#i prescribe these two physical affection

[ghelgheli]

i would actually like to hear more of your thoughts on whipping girl, whenever you feel ready enough to talk about it. i've only ever heard positive recommendations for it. i was thinking of reading it. i've read one or two introductory 101 texts on transmisogyny as well as some medium/substack posts, and always looking to read more as a tme person. ty!

thanks for asking! I'm gonna try to be concise because I'm stuck on my phone for the month, but here are my thoughts on whipping girl:

serano is at her strongest in the book in three areas: manifestations of transmisogyny in media (e.g. how trans caricatures pervade movies), the history of medical institutions developing a pathology of transsexuality (like the diagnostics of blanchard et al. or how trans people seeking healthcare were and continue to be forced into acting out prescribed expressions and manufacturing memories), and the construction of her own transition narrative (telling the reader what it was like for her to grow up desiring femininity in a way that confused her, the experience of crossdressing, the effects of hrt for her)

whenever she's just sticking to this, I think she effectively communicates a lot that the unaware reader could benefit from—even many trans women/transfems/tma people who are otherwise in tune with the history of medicalized transsexualism and our popular depictions could probably benefit from her own personal narrative, by nature of how variegated our experiences can be.

unfortunately I think the book fails at its primary—stated—goal, which is to theorize about transmisogyny. in the big picture this is a bifurcated failure:

on one branch of her argument, she remains committed to there being something biologically essential/innate about gender. this manifests thru multiple claims: that we have "innate inclinations" toward masculinity/femininity and "subconscious sex" rather than what I believe, which is that the latter are constructed categories imposed on different matrices of behaviour/expression/desire in different cultural contexts; that there is "definitely a biological component to gender" (close paraphrase) after a discussion of how she believes E and T tend to affect people (thus equivocating gender with dominant hormones!); that we have such a thing as "physical sex" which is the composition of our culturally decided "sex characteristics" (don't ask me how the dividing line is drawn) even as she says we should stop using "biological sex" as a term; that there is "no harm" in agreeing that "sex" is largely bimodal with some exceptions; that social constructionism is necessarily erasure of transsexual experiences in early childhood... altogether she is unwilling to relinquish arguments about the partial "innateness" of femininity/masculinity and gender. this is at tension with her admission on several occasions that these are neither culturally/geographically nor temporally stable concepts! but that doesn't seem to be a line she can follow thru on.

on another, intertwining branch, she engages in what I think is a deep and widespread mistake in the theorizing of transmisogyny: reducing it (mechanistically) to what she calls effemimania* or essentially anti-femininity. it is her stated thesis at the start that masculinity is universally preferred to femininity. she doesn't offer a definition of either term until one of the final chapters, where she defines them as the behaviours and expressions associated with a particular gender. but I think this reduction just misunderstands transmisogyny. it is even in tension with an observation she makes early on, that trans women are often punished for their perceived masculinity! but again, this is a thought she seems unable or unwilling to follow thru with.

my problem with the thesis is that masculinity and femininity do not float free of gender—it is not possible to speak of their valuation in the abstract. anyone who grew up as a masculine cis girl and never "grew out" of that "phase" can attest to the violence wrought upon expressions of masculinity from women. and this applies doubly so to the subjects of transmisogyny! not only are we punished for any perceived bleed-through of masculinity from our supposed "underlying male selves", those of us who are willingly masculine and thriving as mascs are punished for our failure to conform to the rules of the normative womanhood that is imposed on us (just as we are punished for any willing femininity as "false" and predatory upon cis womanhood—observe that transmisogyny is reactive degendering in every case!).

on both branches serano makes only perfunctory remarks about the intersections with race, class, and colonialism. "sex" as such was made to only be accessible to the "civilized", most of all the white european! for a racialized person and particularly a Black person navigating gender the waters are just not the same; the signifiers of sex neither available in the same way, nor granted the same medical legitimacy. what is the "physical sex" of someone who is de-sexed altogether? how can gender have a "biologically innate" component when its expressions between the bourgeoisie and the working class are at total odds with one another? this all goes for the masculine/feminine distinctions as well. what sense is there in the claim that we have innately masculine/feminine inclinations when globally (and transmisogyny has been made global!) what is feminine and masculine can be very nearly mirrored? nor is "masculinity is always considered superior to femininity" innocent of obviating race. transmisogynoir adds yet further degendering thru the coercive masculinization of someone as a Black woman—masculinization as punishment, again!

and as a final point, the account fails to be materialist. there is no attempt to place transmisogyny in its role as an instrument of political economy or, as jules gill-peterson might say, as a tool of statecraft. it is just a psychological response to the way the world is, as far as serano has anything to say about it. but how did the world become that way, and why?? serano's solution, the abolition of what she calls gender entitlement, is naive to the fact that gender entitlement is necessary to the maintenance of the capitalist state, which is structured thru patriarchy and built on colonialism. it is not possible to reskin this into something innocuous!

this is why I cannot recommend whipping girl as a work about transmisogyny except at the most shallow level. it could be a helpful critical read, but imo, it is just wrong about transmisogyny.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

😴😴😴 (to find later) AITA for putting sleeping pills in my boyfriend's drinks without him knowing?

I know this sounds absolutely awful, but please bear with me.

Basically, me (27 m) and my boyfriend (26 m) have been living together for around five years, meaning we usually also sleep together. Or at least we try, since my BF suffers from terrible insomnia and reoccurring nightmares so bad sometimes he wakes up into a full on anxiety attack. He does go to therapy and has prescribed sleeping pills, but he hates taking them because he's always afraid that when he does fall asleep he's just going to have nightmares, (which also just makes him avoid sleeping in general even not including his insomnia).

Usually I try to help him by staying up with him, watching his favorite show while cozied up on the couch under a bunch of blankets and with a hot coco, or we do something else that he likes and helps him relax. I really don't mind, I love him and I love spending time with him. However, it used to be that he would fall asleep at around 3-4 AM, but as time went on he started staying up longer and longer, until at a certain point I literally had to start leaving for work in the morning while he still hadn't gotten any sleep.

This was an issue for two reasons: 1. Obviously, without me there he felt even less comfortable and had an even harder time falling asleep, sometimes staying up for even 48 hours (or maybe more, I'm not sure) just to wait for me to come back home so I could help him unwind again. 2. He actually started lying to me about sleeping while I wasn't home, so that I would go to sleep normally and let him stay awake because "he wasn't tired" even though I could clearly tell he was.

That's when I started getting seriously concerned and questioning him about how much he actually sleeps, especially since I could see it was affecting him more and more both mentally and physically. He was avoidant about the topic but I pleaded with him to talk to his therapist about it, to try and find anything else to help him. Apparently his therapist just told him to keep using his sleeping pills to help with the insomnia, and if they're not working she'll look into prescribing him stronger ones. Yet despite that he still insists on not taking them and just going to bed normally even though it's clearly not working.

To clarify: as far as I'm aware, he has no negative side-effects from these sleeping pills, he's never complained about feeling any pain or feeling worse after taking them or anything like that. Literally he only doesn't want to take them because he's just that afraid of going to sleep.

That's why whenever we stay up nowadays, I always add a small dose to his cup of coco, which thankfully has a strong enough taste to cover the pills (I've tried a small bit myself and couldn't tell a difference). Since I started doing that, he's been regularly falling asleep before 2AM and even though the nightmares still sometimes wake him up or make him feel a bit tired in the morning, overall he's been doing much better.

Still, I do feel bad about putting stuff in his drinks without his knowledge even if it's for his own good. I really wonder if I should stop, but I'm really scared that if I do, he'll start spiralling again. I want to help him and be there for him but I've already tried talking about it and it never worked. So, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[psychedelic-ink]

𝑨𝑸𝑼𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑪 𝑹𝑬𝑯𝑨𝑩𝑰𝑳𝑰𝑻𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni, no outbreak au, strangers to lovers

word count: 7.2k

summary: Joel has been experiencing knee pain for the past two months. When he finally sees an orthopedist, he learns that he has some minor damage to his meniscus. The doctor prescribes him anti-inflammatory medication and physical therapy, recommending swimming. At the pool, he meets you.

warnings: conversation about past failed relationships + sexual relationships, sarah's off at college, reader being briefly self conscious about her body, touch starved joel, oral (giving), both reader and joel not being intimate with anyone for a while, piv sex, riding for the first time, ass play, messy, joel showing small signs of relationship anxiety, sexual tension, size kink, dirty talk, joel is mentioned to be older than reader but how old isn't specified, praise kink, joel being...well-endowed

a/n: this ended up being more emotional and longer than I intended lmaodfbvfg whoops?

Joel worries his bottom lip between his teeth. His right knee bobs nervously, his jeans making a sound every time. The early morning sun filters through the small window. A soft yellow light bounces off the picture frames on the orthopedist's desk. She’s not here yet. The kind nurse had let him in early, saying she would be there shortly. It smells like medicine. It’s too clean and he doesn’t like it. 

His stomach turns. Some part of him actually hopes the doctor doesn’t come in. Joel’s not hopeful about the results. His knees have been bugging him for the past two months. Locking painfully whenever he sat too long and got up. Or when he was sitting in the truck for too long. It just started to ache out of nowhere. It had gotten worse. He’d give in, finally, after Sarah practically begged him on the phone to see a doctor. After all this time he still couldn’t say no to his sweet girl. 

The door opens with a click. Joel becomes stiff, eyes nervously following the woman. She takes a seat. Placing the folder neatly on the shiny table, she opens it and smooths it out with the flat of her palms. 

“Good morning, Mister Miller.” she says, not bothering to look at him. “I've taken a look at your knee x-rays and it seems that you have a bit of damage in your meniscus.”

His molars catch the smooth inside of his cheek and sink into it. She just said a whole lot that he doesn’t understand. He shakes his head. She’s finally looking at him, sharp eyes peering between thinned lashes. 

“Is it serious? What does that mean?” he asks, hands finding the curve of his knees. 

“Well, the good news is that it's not a major injury. There’s just a bit of damage in the tissues and can be treated with some medication and physical therapy. You won’t need surgery unless it escalates. Which, hopefully, it won’t.”

“Okay, that's good to hear. What kind of medication and therapy do I need?”

“I'm going to prescribe you some anti-inflammatory medication to help reduce the swelling and pain in your knee. And as for physical therapy, I'd recommend you try swimming. It's a low-impact exercise that can help strengthen the muscles around your knee and promote healing. I also have some stretches I want to show you. I want you to do them daily.” 

She closes the folder, picks up a deck of Post-it notes, and starts scribbling something. 

“You were a contractor, right? I’m going to need you to refrain from heavy lifting for a while. No jumping, no running, no extreme movements that can affect your knee. Some walking is fine, but not a lot.” 

“Well,” he smacks his lips. Now relaxed, he leans back into the chair and crosses his arms. “There goes my weekend plans.” 

“Do you work out a lot? Because this is quite common in athletes.” 

“Uh…It was a joke.” 

“Oh.” 

Suddenly he’s fidgety again. Not wanting to look dumb, he explains. “Because you said jumpin’ and runnin’ and no one spends their weekend jumpin’ do they?” 

A nervous laughter bubbles in his throat, and he manages to swallow it down. She nods and peels the paper away. Handing it to Joel, she looks at him with a small smile. 

“Sorry about that, it’s still early. And you’re right. They don’t. 

You step into the small shower cabin and allow the cold water to trace over your skin and wash away the outside. The elastic of your swimming cap digs into your forehead, the goggles applying pressure right above your head. Slightly irritated, you sneak two fingers under where the plastic starts, allowing your head to breathe one last time before taking a dip in the pool. You come here almost every day. It’s relaxing, soothing. 

Your fingers slip as you twist the knob, turning off the spray of water. You might be biased due to your childhood, but you love the pool. You love the chlorine that fills your lungs with every breath. It’s sharp and pungent, leaving a slight burn in your lungs. During summers your parents would send you off to summer camp, which you thoroughly enjoyed. Though, calling it a “camp” felt wrong. It wasn’t outdoors, and you would return after the day ended, just like regular school, but instead of math, there was swimming and basketball. 

You remember those days fondly, which is why you sigh blissfully at the scent whereas a lot of people would wrinkle their noses. 

Walking to the pool, you roll your shoulders. You wince upon hearing them crack. It’s been a long week. Your gaze lifts to the ceiling. The soft pitter patters of rain echoes. You love to swim when it rains. It also meant there would be fewer people, and no children. You don’t have anything against the tiny humans, but they had a habit of being loud. 

You spot an older couple, their bodies swaying in a lazy backstroke, their voices spilling out in laughter. You also notice one other person that’s aggressively swimming back and forth. In one lane, you notice a man. His cap and black goggles make it hard to catch a glimpse of his face. It’s hardly inappropriate, but you can’t resist stealing a few more glances at him. 

You take in his broad shoulders, thick neck, and shapely arms. You narrow your eyes. You catch a glimpse of his salt and pepper beard, the darker hue of his mustache hinting at the  color of his hair. Your eyes drop to his hands, hidden in the water up to the knuckles. He clenches them into fists before releasing them.

Your curiosity piques. You’ve never seen him before, he looks lost. He’s standing above the built-in stairs which are mainly used for people who are just learning to swim. He takes another step lower. The light blue water splashes over his soft stomach and he jerks away. You instinctively smile. You usually don’t reach out to people. If they smile at you, you smile back or talk about the weather. But the stranger’s nervous energy prompts you to take a couple of steps closer—close enough that he can hear you. You take a deep breath, pressing your nails into your palms, you push down the thoughts about your own appearance. No one really looks that good in a one piece. You feel exposed, which is why you usually dip into the water as fast as you can before anyone can get a good look. 

“Hi there,” you squeak, with an awkward lift of your hand. The man stiffens and turns. Your own image is reflected back at you thanks to the goggles he wears. “Sorry to bother you, I was just…wondering if you need help?” 

He stares at you in silence for a brief moment, his brows drawn together with confusion. But a moment later he relaxes, his shoulders drop and he playfully shakes his head. 

Finally, he removes the goggles, and you see his eyes— his gorgeous, big brown eyes. Your breath catches in your throat. You’re suddenly feeling very clammy and sweaty. 

“Is it that obvious?” he asks, a grin teasing at his lips. “My doctor said I need to start swimmin’ before my knees give out entirely.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” 

He waves his hand in dismissal, “Don’t be. It's nothin’ that serious, just small damage to my meniscus. I know how to swim, so it’s nothin’ like that but I guess my nerves are fried from worryin’ all weak about the results. My brain still ain’t convinced that everythin’ is fine.” 

God, he’s gorgeous. All you can do is focus on the movement of his lips. Him speaking is enough to fluster you. You need to get it together before he thinks you’re a creep. You part your lips, but the words die in your throat as you watch him. He starts climbing the steps one by one with an extended hand. The water cascades down his body, his trunks sticking to his thighs. In a fit of panic, you glue your eyes to his. 

“I’m Joel by the way.” he takes your hand and gives it two firm shakes. You introduce yourself but all you can hear is your own frantic heartbeat. 

“I’m glad it’s nothing serious,” you blurt out. You have no idea what to say or what you’re doing. “If you’re nervous we can do a couple of laps together if you want—if you’re comfortable with that, of course.” 

You swear your heart stops when his eyes flit across your face, assessing how serious you are. His smile never fades. You inhale sharply when his tongue darts out from between his lips, sweeping over his damp bottom lip.

“I bet you say that to all the older guys.” 

“Only the cute ones.” 

Clearly, the circuits between your brain and mouth are heavily damaged because there’s no way on god’s green earth did you just say that. You blink fast. Images of you choking out another you vivid in your mind. You’re insane—only the ones that are cute, who even says that? No more romantic comedies for you. 

Joel pushes his shoulders back. He exhales a deep breath, his chest heaving. 

“Well, ain’t that kind of you.” he takes a step back into the water, some part of you regrets not sneaking at least one more glance at his nethers. “I guess I should take you up on your offer. It’s only polite.” 

A nervous bubble of laughter escapes your throat. You don’t say anything and follow him into the pool. You’re glad to be finally submerging your body in water. Ever since you were little you would believe that water had magical healing properties. You would go into the water, thinking that someone it would speak to you. Despite being an adult, you still think that sometimes. It just makes life a little bit more fun. You know it’s stupid to think of chloric water having any kind of benefit to your body, however, it’s hard to break old thought patterns. 

Joel dips head first, and after watching his distorted silhouette underwater, you follow. You smile, bubbles coming from your nose. Your spine cracks as your body becomes more fluid. You turn around so you are facing upwards. Light bounces on top of the small waves. The ceiling is nothing but a blur of white and blue. Some part of you wishes this was an open pool so you could feel the vibrations of raindrops hitting the waterline. 

Turning again, you notice Joel moving up. His head pops above water. You take one last glance at his body before propelling yourself up, joining him. 

Your eyes follow the way waterdrops smooths a line down from his neck to his shoulder. Your mouth goes dry. 

“So,” you say. “Did your doctor give you any specific exercises?” 

He shakes his head, “She just told me to go swimmin’. And not to put pressure on my knees.” 

You think for a bit before answering, “Alright then. We’ll just take it slow, so a couple of laps first, take small breaks in between.” 

“You…really don’t have to, you know,” Joel looks almost guilty before his eyes move away from yours. Confused, you raise an eyebrow. 

“I don’t have to what?” 

“Swim with me.” 

You feel your heart shattering into tiny pieces of glass that stick to your lungs. His voice is barely above a whisper, cracking at the end of his sentence. Your body moves towards his by instinct. The most natural thing would be to place your hand on his cheek and pull him for a tender kiss. Your body singing at you to do it. And man, you’re tempted alright. You want to trace the seam of his lips with your tongue, taste the chlorine on his lips. 

You ball your hands into tight fists, thankful to be hidden underwater. You recognize the loneliness that maps across his handsome countenance. 

“I know I don’t have to,” you say instead. He looks back at you with surprise, eyes immediately dropping to your wet lips. “I want to.” 

He lets out a breath of relief, and nods, a smile gracing his lips. “A’right then. As long as I’m not keepin’ you from anythin’.” 

The swimming had gone well. Joel definitely had the body and stamina for it, and the more laps he did, the more confident he became with his strokes. You found yourself staring at him openly, stealing glances before you dipped below the water, hiding your embarrassment. 

However, he was still a beginner, and he’s knees began to ache after the tenth lap. He insisted that you continue without him as he sat at the side of the pool. You were hesitant at first but agreed, however, your cheeks burned from the mere prospect of that man watching you swim. 

When you’re done, you catch him staring at you with a fond smile lingering on his lips. You imagine that’s the same look he’d give you with the first rays of sunlight after a rather passionate night. 

Your pussy bottoms out, heat spreading between your legs. You inhale sharply, accidentally snorting a bit of water. It burns and your eyes water, but you manage to swallow down the frantic coughs that threaten to rip from your throat. 

“Sweet little mermaid.” he mutters as you approach, eyes following you with greed. Your breath hitches, and Joel loses his grounding for a moment. He clears his throat and looks away. “You swim well.” 

“Thanks,” you answer. “You’re not so bad yourself.” 

You ignore the heat that emanates from his thigh, your arms accidentally brushing against the hard muscle. You clumsily push yourself out of the pool and take a seat next to him. 

“How’re your knees feeling?” you ask. 

He lets out a hum, stretching his legs underwater. “They’re fine. Hopefully, this works.” 

“I’m sure it will.” 

"Even if it doesn't work out, at least I won't be going home empty-handed," he says with a smile. Your eyes flick to him and widen slightly. Very inappropriately, your nipples tighten. A blush starts from his neck and spreads across his broad chest, you notice the goosebumps bursting over his skin. He starts to fidget with his thumbs. “And by that, I mean that I got to meet you. I think I put that weirdly.” 

The world comes rushing back and you feel the soft waves of the pool on your skin again. You smile. Without thinking much, you playfully nudge his shoulder with your own. A soft chuckle parts his lips as he leans into you. Neither of you moves away from the other. 

“So,” you say, flinching at how high-pitched you sound. “Is there a Mrs. Joel?” 

He laughs. The sound reminds you of an open field with colorful flowers dancing side to side with the wind. Instinctively, you sigh, your lashes kissing your cheeks. 

“Nope,” he answers. “What about you?” 

You shake your head, “I’ve been single for two years.” 

“I find that hard to believe.” 

“Well,” you look ahead, the old couple you spotted before is getting out of the pool. “My heart got broken quite a few times. I think without noticing I closed myself off after my last relationship. I find it hard to open up now and—” you cut off, your gaze drifting back to him. You bark an uncomfortable-sounding laugh and drop your head to your chest. “Aaand, I have no idea why I’m telling you this. Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize, darlin’. For what it’s worth, I haven’t been with anyone for a long time either.” 

You grin and raise an eyebrow, “I find that hard to believe.” 

Joel smiles but it’s a soft one, like he’s remembering something—or in this case, someone. With unblinking eyes, you wait for him to elaborate. He notices your gaze, his smile stretches into a grin. 

“It’s not that interestin’ of a story,” he sighs. “I had my daughter when I was quite young. Mother left. And until Sarah went to college there was no one. After she left…I had a couple of flings but that’s pretty much it. Nothin’ long term.” 

“You have a daughter?” 

“Uh, yeah.” he answers, scratching the back of his head. You feel kind of bad now that you made him feel awkward. That wasn’t your intention at all. You’re surprised, but you find it to be sweet that he has a daughter. It must’ve been hard to raise her on his own. 

Before you can say anything, you sense him pulling back, both emotionally and physically. His shoulder isn’t pressed against yours anymore, the lack of contact makes you ache. He moves his legs languidly under the water, your gaze follows the movement. 

“I know it might be awkward. And not ideal. But I would love it if we could get to know each other more.” 

Your ears burning, you take his hand into yours, squeezing it tightly. If he’s surprised by your sudden gesture, he doesn’t show it. He doesn’t look at you and you squeeze again, drawing his gaze back to you. 

“That’s not why I asked. That was probably a bit insensitive of me, I was just surprised and it came out wrong.” you let out a breath of relief when his thumb begins to draw slow circles over your skin. A shiver settles at the base of your spine. “And I would very much like to get to know you.” 

Your heart skips a beat at the way his entire face lights up. Looking at him proving to be similar to looking into the sun, you lower your gaze and grin. You feel dizzy. 

“Does that mean I can ask for your number sunshine?” he asks and leans closer. His warm breath fanning your cheek. 

You nod, “Of course.” 

The pleasant buzz that thrums in your veins soon shift into one of simmering annoyance. Of course, someone took—no, stole—your umbrella. It’s just your luck. It’s raining cats and dogs and all you can do is watch the heavy drops collide with concrete as you wait outside. You look up to the sky, pleading that it stops. You love the rain, love listening to it, but only if you’re surrounded by your cozy home wrapped in a blanket. Or if you’re swimming. 

You could’ve handled a soft drizzle, sometimes you even enjoyed walking under the rain, but not this. You swear one of those drops alone can poke an eye out. It’s deafening. Thunder echoes, and you can’t help but flinch. Everything is so loud. Your body is refreshed, but at the same time, your muscles are drained from all the swimming. Exhausted from the workout and the excitement, all you want is a cozy nook with a steaming cup of tea and a good book.

You don’t have much else to do until the rain stops, therefore, you think of Joel. He’d been truly a splendid surprise. Sometimes life sucked but moments like those made it better. After exchanging numbers, he’d promised to call you as soon as he was back home. 

A smile tugs at your lips. You find it cute that he said he called instead of texting you. You’ll get to hear his voice which is a huge plus. 

You’re viciously ripped away from your thoughts when a loud honk echoes above the rain. With your hairs standing on edge, you see a truck with the window pulled down. You narrow your eyes. The rain and headlights create a thick fog, making it difficult to see clearly. 

“Joel?” you call out, hoping that you’re seeing right. 

“Hey,” he answers, leaning over and popping the door open for you. “Hop in.” 

You take the first step, a bit uncertain with your movements in fear that it might be an illusion created by the stormy night, but it’s not. The leather seat under you is solid and so is the man sitting next to you. You wipe your face with your sleeve. 

“Thanks. You basically saved my ass right now. Some asshole stole my umbrella.” 

He grins, “It’s the least I could do.” 

The rain pounds relentlessly against the windshield, the sound a chaotic symphony that drowns out everything else. Thunder rumbles in the distance, and you flinch as a particularly loud crack splits through the air. You jump in your seat. Joel’s hand lands softly on your thigh, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You look at him, surprised, and he meets your gaze with a small smile.

“Is this alright?” he asks, his voice gentle as he squeezes.

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest. His touch is warm and inviting. Like a soft caress that makes your skin tingle. You feel a sudden urge to lean into him, to climb on top of his lap, and allow his wide hands to roam all over your back. 

Joel starts the car and drives onto the road. The world outside is a blur of colors and lights. Neon signs flicker in the rain, casting a rainbow of colors on the wet pavement. The buildings are tall and imposing, like ancient giants looming over the city. The headlights of passing cars slice through the darkness, creating sharp streaks of light that dance across your vision.

You watch the world pass by in a daze, lost in thought. The rain is a soothing sound, like a lullaby that whispers you to sleep. Joel’s hand on your thigh is a comforting presence, grounding you in reality. 

The rain grows louder, the drops striking the windshield almost violently. Much to your disappointment, he pulls his hand away, leaving you feeling a sudden emptiness. You open your eyes, watching as he shifts gears and maneuvers the car through the busy streets.

You lean your head against the window, watching the world outside blur by in a dizzying whirl. You don’t have much to say and that’s okay. His presence isn’t forcing you to make awkward small talk. You’re completely content just being here with him, a moment you’re positive that you’ll never forget, no matter which direction your relationship with him goes. 

When you finally pull up to your house, dread washes over you. You want to invite him inside for something warm, as a thank you for rescuing you from the rain. But you’re not entirely sure that you should. 

You push back your worries.

“This is me,” you break the silence. "Would you like to come inside for a bit? I have tea and coffee— or perhaps you would prefer wine to warm you up?" 

The last addition was meant as a joke, a little bit of humor to break the tension. Joel’s lips are tightly pressed together, his knuckles almost white from how hard he’s squeezing the steering wheel. After grueling moments of silence, he swallows and turns off the car. 

“Wine sounds great.” 

The sound of your front door closing behind you feels momentous. Ironically enough, you don’t get to open the bottle of wine. You kiss him first, and he follows, pushing you up against the wall with possessive hands. You barely manage to push the door closed. He’s all consuming. Inhaling your chlorine scented skin and drinking lust from your lips. He kneads your breasts in his large palms and you gasp into his mouth, he swallows the sound. Parting away, he licks the seam of your lips before leveling you with a steady gaze. 

“I promised myself to take this slow,” he rasps, panting heavily. When the first hints of laughter tickle the back of your throat, he takes hold of your hips and presses them firmly together. You feel the hardness of his length through the fabric of his jeans. Your eyes roll back. “That feels good don’t it—fuck—I just don’t want to fuck this up, you’re really nice and—” 

“Joel,” you say, cupping his cheeks and forcing him to meet your gaze. “Calm down. You’re not going to fuck this up. We’re in this together. I really want this, you do too. But if you want to go slow, have that wine, we’ll go slow. But I don’t want you to be stressed out of your mind no matter what you choose, okay?” 

He exhales a breath, deep and steady. “Okay,” he says, hands squeezing your hips. “Okay. Sorry ‘bout that. I hope I didn’t scare you off.” 

“You could never,” you say, brushing your lips together. “So, what do you wanna do?” 

“I think I want to show you to a good time, sweetheart.” 

“Meaning?” 

“I want to fuck you.” he swallows. “If you want it too.” 

“Oh, believe me. I do.” 

You catch the curve of a mischievous smile before he crashes into you, claiming your lips in a heady kiss. He pushes a leg between your thighs and your grind down, gasping at the friction. Warmth gathers under the tissue of your stomach, everlasting. It’s been so long since you felt like this. The heat of someone tearing you apart and pulling you back again. 

A pleasant tingle spreads from your legs up your spine. Joel licks into you, his tongue moving over yours. He nips at your bottom lip. You whine when he parts away, his lips leaving a trail of wet kisses down your neck. He feels your pulse with his lips. An involuntary giggle leaves you as his mustache chafes the skin. He teeths at the flesh and you grind your hips down once more, wetness growing between your legs. 

“Sweetheart,” he breathes shakily. “Show me to the bedroom.” 

The trip to the bedroom is a disorienting one; A blur of limbs and kisses being traded with one another. You feel like a teenager, not being able to keep away not even for a second. You don’t bother to close the bedroom door. Joel pulls your shirt off, your ears left ringing at the force of it while your hands fumble with his zipper. Joel chuckles and bats your hands away. The way you furrow your brows goes unnoticed. He dips his head, closing his lips around the tight nipple. 

Your legs start to shake. He flicks his tongue, the tight nub pebbling swiftly. Your head falls back, a deep moan coming from the back of your throat. He sucks and moves his jaw, applying pressure. While one hand rests over the curve of your waist, the other promptly toys with your unattended nipple, pinching and twisting until it’s hard and aching. 

“Shit—Joel—” you gasp, voice quivering. “It’s been a while, it feels so good. Fuck.” 

He parts away from your chest, the tip of his tongue swirling deftly around the areola. His warm breath makes you shiver. “That’s okay honey, I’ve got you.” 

“Take this off,” you mumble in a daze, pulling at the hem of his shirt. You bend your knees to cup his erection, it pulses under your palm. “And take these off too. I want you in my mouth.” 

“You’re killin’ me, sweetheart,” he breathes out. “You’d like that, huh? My cock in your mouth, cummin’ down your throat as you wrap them pretty lips around me—what a sight it would be.” 

“Fuck yes,” you choke out, gently pushing him towards the bed. 

You’re almost delusional in the way you speak and move. He’d painted you a picture you so desperately wanted to make into reality. You tug off his shirt as he kicks off his jeans along with his underwear. A sharp exhale parts your lips when you feel his dripping cock against your lower stomach. Heavy and hot, pressing against your skin. You wrap your fingers around the base and they barely close around him. The tips of your ears burn. 

“J-Joel, oh my god,” you say with awe. “I-I don’t know if I can take you all.” 

His fingers touch the back of your neck and he pulls you between his legs as the two of you tumble onto the bed. He gently squeezes, your body melting at the touch. His lips touch your ear. 

“Sure you can, sunshine. We’ll just take it nice and slow, a’right? I’ll fuck this pretty little cunt with just the tip if I have to, it feels good all the same.” his thumb traces your bottom lip, and slowly, he pushes the digit into your mouth. Your eyes fluttering, you suck his thumb. “Just get my dick nice and wet with this dirty tongue of yours. Been twitchin’ since you uttered the words.”  

He pops out his thumb and leaves wet streaks across your cheek. You move down his body, dragging your nails down the swell of his stomach as you get closer and closer to his length. Joel hisses when you wetly kiss the tip, a bead of precum forming. You wrap one hand around the base and rest the other over his stomach, fingers caressing the coarse hairs that form a sinful trail. 

“You’re so big,” you whisper, lips dancing over the length of his throbbing cock. He moans. “That swimsuit of yours doesn’t do you justice at all.” 

“If you continue to talk like that I’m going to bust,” he chokes, hands fisting the sheets. “Please just—” he swallows. “Just stop toyin’ with me.” 

Answering him with a throaty hum, you dip your tongue into the slit, groaning at the taste of him. His cock twitches against your lips, smearing precum over the tender swell of it. Parting your mouth wide, you take the bulbous head between your lips and flatten your tongue. You feel a vein that curls underneath his length. You groan and take him deeper. He’s been truly blessed, the width stretching you wide, forcing saliva to dribble from the corners of your mouth. Your cunt clenches around nothing. Slick glistening at the insides of your thighs. 

You’re still worried about not being able to take him all. You want to feel every inch of him buried deep inside, and even though Joel assured you that it would be okay, you still want this to go perfectly. It’s been a long time for you both, you want it to feel good for him too. 

“Deeper,” he croaks out and when you look up, you find those gorgeous, dazed out, brown eyes looking down at you. “Can you?” 

Your lids flutter heavily. Nodding, you force your head down, your chin straining as you take him halfway. Your vision blurs with tears. Spit oozes down his length, your throat convulsing at the pressure. 

“You’re takin’ it so well,” he praises through grit teeth, his southern drawl deeper and more noticeable than before. “So fuckin’ well. You feel so good—I ain’t gonna last sweetheart.” 

Encouraged by his sudden honesty, you mentally grin. And with more fervor than before, you bounce your head up and down while stroking the rest with your hand. Briefly you remove your lips, swipe your palm over the head and move it back down, coating the rest of him with slick. You take him again, his thighs tightening around your frame, shaking uncontrollably as he forces his hips to remain still. 

Moans echo from the back of Joel’s throat, filling the room with his deep cadence. He reaches out for your hand and locks your fingers together, holding you and guiding your hand further up his stomach. You’re a bit unbalanced now. His cock spears almost painfully down your throat. While trying to limit yourself with only the half of his length, his cock twitches, and throbs. You repeatedly swallow around him, your hand starting to shake. 

Large drops of precum coat your tongue and go down your throat, his grip on your hand painfully tight. You breathe heavily through your nose. He’s about to come. With a ferality you haven’t felt with anyone before, you push apart your legs and force yourself down against the sheets. The soft fabric doing little when it grazes your aching clit. You moan around him. 

Then you find yourself empty. A gasp rips from your throat at the way Joel pulls you off his cock, breathing in heavy pants. Your gaze drops to his cock. The head a beautiful shade of red, glistening with precome and spit. You lick your lips. 

“Sorry,” he grunts, pulling you so that you’re straddling his waist. He pushes himself up by the elbows, face only an inch away from yours. “I didn’t wanna come just yet. Need to feel you around me, sunshine.” 

He closes the distance and claims you with a devout kiss. He tastes himself on your tongue, hips jerking up in a weak attempt to seek you out. You breathe him in. The scent of chlorine and something so undeniable Joel fills your lungs. 

“Don’t keep me waiting then,” you grin against his lips. He mimics your expression grinning as he lays back down. He guides you to raise your hips, and briefly, worry crosses your face. 

A question quickly follows, “What’s wrong?” 

“I…fuck, it’s stupid. Don’t worry about it.” but of course, he doesn’t let go and fixes you a look that has you spilling your guts. “It’s just been a while and well. I’ve never actually done it like…this.” 

“You never rode someone before?” 

You shake your head and bite your bottom lip. Frowning, he touches the abused flesh with his thumb and tugs it away, smoothing it with the pad of his finger. 

“We can switch positions. It’s okay.” 

“But I want to try it.” your words coming out in a rush, it’s followed by a nervous laughter. “I always did, but my partners usually had other plans. And after a while, I just generally chickened out and stopped asking. I got embarrassed.” 

“Oh, honey.” 

Your eyes widen upon feeling his arms around you, pulling you into a bear hug. His hand cradles the back of your head and you bury your face into the crook of his neck. You kiss the skin. Warmth blossoming in your chest. Both of you suspended in the moment, breathing each other in and out. Soon, his fingers trace a path down your spine, and a chill spreads at the end of your back. 

“Believe me,” he mutters, you feel the movement of his jaw. “I would want nothin’ more than to have you on top of me, takin’ you deep. I’m sorry those assholes made you feel otherwise.” 

You choke out a sound, smiling and shaking your head. “It’s not that they were assholes—well, maybe some of them—but maybe I just wasn’t good at expressing myself. Or I just didn’t look…” you clear your throat, his arms tighten around you, forcing the air out of your lungs. “Anyway, it’s not important.” 

“You express yourself fine if you ask me.” his thumb skims over your clit and you gasp. The digit slides between your folds with ease, he hums in approval. “And it looks like your body is expressin’ itself quite well too.” 

An understanding without words forms between your two. He cups your ass and you lift yourself up by holding onto his broad shoulders. Joel jerks himself with one hand before he motions you to lower yourself. Despite how soaking wet you are, the stretch still makes you wince. You continue a bit further, having to stop when it proves to be more painful than pleasurable. Sliding his one hand back to your front, he leisurely circles around your clit. You clench and dig your nails into his shoulders. 

“That’s it, go slow sweetheart. We have all the time in the world. You’re doin’ so good for me. Spreading yourself around my cock like that.” 

Feeling yourself becoming loose, you sink further down, only having to stop again a few inches later. You groan in frustration and Joel puts his mouth on your breasts, sucking. 

You draw in a long breath, “Is that all of it?”

Joel looks up and allows himself to smile. 

“Well, nearly. Just a bit more.” 

His mouth moves down and captures your nipple between his lips. Your walls flutter around him, adjusting to his size. With a moan, you sink down completely, his hips flush against yours. Joel breaks away from your tender skin, both of you moaning loudly in unison. His head falls back against the bedpost, staring at you between heavy lids. He looks completely blissed out. 

Wanting more of the debouched expression, you ever so slightly move up your hips and sit back down again. His eyes squeeze shut, his throat trembling with a wrecked groan. You’re not doing any better, your eyes rolling back as your muscles start to spasm. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, you’re wet. Shit. Can I move, sunshine? Please?” 

“God yes,” you breathe out, your head spinning. His hands cup your rear, helping you to lift halfway off his cock before lowering you again. Electricity runs up your spine. Your cry out his name, pulsing around him uncontrollably. “J-Joel, I don’t think I’m gonna last,” you say apologetically. 

“That’s okay,” he groans, voice hoarse. “I ain’t gonna last long either.” 

The two of you capture a soft rhythm that works for the both of you. Joel guides the sloppy roll of your hips, and you do your best to move up and down his cock. Your legs aching due to the swimming. You want to go faster, the burning between your legs growing with every grind of your hips. There’s an itch deep inside. An inch that you can’t seem to scratch with the way you’re moving. You whimper and fix Joel a pleading look. His cock twitches. 

“You want it harder?” he rasps, lashes fluttering. 

“Yes,” you exhale. “Give it to me, Joel. I want you to fuck me hard with this big cock of yours.” you make a show of rolling your tongue and pressing your hips flush against him, grinding yourself into his pelvis. 

“The mouth on you, Jesus.” he drawls but with a smile. Your heart skips a beat, a grin of your own touching your lips. 

You’re confused when Joel sucks two fingers into his mouth. Not that you’re complaining. You see the pink of his tongue, the glistening spit that coats his thick fingers. Pulling them out, Joel massages your asscheeks and spreads them, you moan as the open air hits your other hole. He brushes two wet fingers over the rim, making you quiver. 

“Feels good?” 

You nod and he slips one finger, your entire body jolts, your breath catching in your throat. However, you don’t have time to focus on the new sensation. Joel presses his feet into the mattress and with fervor, he starts fucking up into you. Railing you until you’re gasping for air and left feeling nothing else but the heavy stroke of his cock. You shout his name, your lungs burn. 

“That’s it make a mess of me, darlin’. Such a good fuckin’ girl. All you need is my help isn’t it? Look at you, doin’ so well for me.” the words he continues to mutter force out a visceral reaction from you. You claw at his chest. Dragging them down as his cock spears into you over and over. The slick sounds echoing throughout the room. You notice him watching where you two connect, he looks hypnotized. His lips parting as he watches his cock disappear into your wet cunt. 

He pushes his finger in deeper and you’re suddenly aware of how full you feel. Your arms that keep you upright buckle and you fall down, covering him like a blanket. An apology touches your lips, but before you can, Joel’s lips are already on your temple, kissing and whispering praise all the while continuing to fuck you senseless. He pulls out his finger and slightly lifts your hips for a better angle. You whine at the loss and hear him chuckle. 

“Another time, sunshine.” 

Your walls start to spasm and contract, his hips start to stutter. His strong steady strokes becoming sloppy and rushed, he pushes you down against him rolling his hips and grinding deeper into you. Fuck. Your head is spinning violently. Your cunt dripping and making a mess of his cock. He rubs into you again, the dark hairs that crown his length stimulating your throbbing clit. 

A silent scream shakes your chest. You see white before you squeeze him tight, the force of it making his breath hitch. You gush around him. Slick rolling down his cock and seeping into the sheets. You don’t even notice the wet tears smeared all over your face as you nuzzle him. Waves of pleasure wash over you again and again. Leaving you shaking and panting for air. Joel holds you still, his hands comforting against your heated skin. 

Your jaw goes slack when he gently thrusts up again, shushing you when you let out a whine. 

“Where do you want me?” 

It takes you a while to understand the question. Lifting your head, you give him a blank stare. His eyes glimmer with amusement, a lopsided smile forming on his lips. 

“Look at you,” he coos. “Pretty little thing completely fucked out. You look beautiful, sweetheart.” 

You’re pretty sure you actually purr at his words. You leisurely smile. You lift your hips and push them back down, both of you groaning in delight. He keeps uttering pretty from under his breath, his own composure breaking down. Another orgasm rolls over you, albeit much softer this time, like a fire warming your skin. You sigh happily, kissing him on the lips. 

“Where?” he asks, a bit more desperate this time. 

“My mouth.” 

“Oh, fuck.” 

Everything is sloppy and uncoordinated. You’re not even sure how you make your way down between his legs. You’re still throbbing when you suck on the tip, your eyes closing as you taste the mixture of you and himself. You take him as deep as you can, feeling him at the back of your throat. He holds your head but doesn’t force you to the more. 

“Sweetheart, move your tongue.” 

Your skin prickles at how hoarse he sounds. You happily obliged, stroking the underside of his cock with the flat of your tongue. He sucks in a sharp breath, his chest expanding, and on the exhale, he lets out the loudest moan of the night. It comes from the depths of his lungs. His hips jerk, finally spilling down your throat, you swallow him greedily, your walls pulsing with a need to be stretched again. 

He comes and comes and comes. There’s so much of it. It floods your mouth, trickling down your chin. You breathe heavily. His cock throbs on your tongue and god you love the feeling. 

“Fuuuuuuuuuck, that felt so good.” his hands fall limp to his side. With a grin, you release his cock and swallow once more, more audibly this time. His dark gaze drops to your lips. He shakily wipes the come that spilled from your lips, popping it back into your mouth. You lick at the digit eagerly. “I should thank whoever it was that stole your umbrella,” he mumbles. 

“We should get them a cake,” you tease, kissing the empty patch on his beard. “So…should we get cleaned up and then…talk?” 

He squeezes your hips and then follows the curve of your spine. “Sounds like a plan, sunshine.” 

You end up sharing that bottle of wine after all. 

[etrsilk]

Hellooooo can I please have headcanons of the main 4 with a sick reader? I really want some comfort because my head and stomache hurts 😭

₊✩‧₊˚ ᡣ𐭩 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 ⇝ 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 .ᐟ

˗ˏˋ ➛ 𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙡𝙪𝙙𝙚𝙨: 𝘒𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘢,𝘎𝘰𝘯,𝘒𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘪𝘬𝘢,𝘓𝘦𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘰

˗ˏˋ ➛ 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 — ✘

˗ˏˋ ➛ 𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧

⎝ 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚:: hello! Yes of course ! ♡ By the way, you have all my support! I hope you'll be better !! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

 —𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐔𝐀ꫂ ၴႅၴ

➘ This guy doesn't really empathize with you at first because he's only been sick very, very rarely in his life!

➘ But alongside your cold, you developed a very high fever that kept you bedridden, and that's when he began to worry about you

➘ His first instinct? Call Leorio!!!

➘ He listened very carefully to all his advice, and applied absolutely all of it!

➘ He takes it very seriously, and if you don't want to take one of the medications he will chase you around until you take it...

➘ He won't stop making jokes like "oh no, you touched me yuck I'm going to be sick" (10 minutes later he'll cuddle and kiss you because he can't be without your physical affection for more than 20 minutes)

➘ He was the most worried of the two of you, you were just like "bro it's just a cough" and he was like "what if it turns into Chronic Bronchitis???? Or what if it's a symptom of the Tuberculosis???"

“IT’S JUST A COUGH AND A LITTLE FEVER”

 —𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐈𝐊𝐀ꫂ ၴႅၴ

➘ You don't want to admit that you're sick, not at all out of pride, but because you absolutely don't want to worry him.

➘ You know that with his work, he is very stressed and busy so you didn't want to make his stress worse or disturb him. So you simply didn't tell him anything about your state of health and you tried to look as normal as possible.

➘ but one day you passed out in the kitchen

➘ The doctor diagnoses you with some sort of infection and prescribes lots of medications and instructions to follow!

➘ Kurapika gives you a moral lesson for hiding your poor state of health from him by saying that in a relationship you had to say everything and that we went through everything together and bla-bla-bla

➘ While you're healing, he becomes a little overprotective and refuses to let you exert yourself unnecessarily until you're fully recovered

➘ He stays with you as much as possible and cuddles and kisses you a lot to comfort you !!

 —𝐆𝐎𝐍ꫂ ၴႅၴ

➘ He feels a little lost and doesn't really know how to comfort you or help you get better.

➘ If he notices that your condition is really starting to get worse, he will call Leorio for advice and Leorio will obviously help him as best he can as a good dad friend!

➘ Gon would make you rest and take care of all the household chores. He would also bring you blankets and sweets, and together, you would spend your days and evenings watching movies, completely wrapped around each other like Legos.

it's so cute…

(He got sick shortly after and it was Leorio who had to take care of you two)

 —𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐎ꫂ ၴႅၴ

➘ He is very very very slightly happy because he finally has the opportunity to show you these doctor skills…

➘ But otherwise, obviously try to help yourself as best you can.

➘ It makes sure you have everything you need, from nutritious meals to medications to a clean, comfortable environment.

➘ He tries to comfort you by making you laugh with jokes!

"Leorio, I think I should see a doctor."

"Who are you talking to right now? Who is it you think you see? Do you know how many people I treat in a year? I mean, even if I told you, you wouldn’t believe it. Do you know what would happen if I suddenly decided to stop going to work? A clinic big enough that it could be listed on the NASDAQ goes belly up. Disappears. It ceases to exist without me. No, you clearly don’t know who you’re talking to, so let me clue you in. I am not in need of a doctor, my dear. I am the doctor. A guy feels a bit off and gets told to see a doctor and you think that of me? No. I am the one who diagnoses!"

(It was much funnier in my head)

—English is not my first language, so sorry for any mistakes!!

[sevensoulmates]

Buddie 7x01 Meta

Okay! Finally, I was able to watch the full episode uninterrupted and have had a couple days to gather my thoughts. Quite simply this episode was fucking fantastic. My meta does sometimes include some spec, so if that's not your thing feel free to ignore those parts. Those of you who follow me know I write long ass essays, so fair warning for a long meta under the cut. ((Also idk how to make gifs, so enjoy my shitty screenshots)).

First, I love to see Buck and Eddie back at it again in their natural element being partners on a scene.

This was very obviously a call back to season 2, even down to the positioning, having Buck watch Eddie be competent in defusing a bomb. Buck has complete faith in Eddie's abilities, it's the fighter pilot whom he distrusts. In the end, they narrowly avoid getting blown up, just like they did in 2x01. This one scene re-establishes the Buck/Eddie work dynamic and shows how they inherently trust each other on and off the field.

Next, we get a scene of Buck and Eddie getting dressed in the locker room. Notably, Buck is fully dressed and Eddie is without his shirt until halfway through the scene. Buck also keeps his eyes on Eddie's naked torso pretty much through the whole shirtless section. This is another blatant callback to season 2x01 when Buck's first introduction to Eddie is when he's shirtless. This draws attention specifically to Eddie's physical attractiveness and how that affects Buck. This scene is odd to have with Eddie half-naked if we're then gonna make comments later on about "sexual tension" with friends, no?

In the same scene we are reintroduced to Buck and Eddie's separate love lives. Eddie is just now learning that Buck and Natalia broke up, and gives an odd facial expression that looks far too much like vindication. We know from the graveyard scene in 6x17 that Eddie wasn't really a fan of Buck's relationship with Natalia (I don't think there's ever been a relationship Buck's had where Eddie has legitimately been happy about it, which is weird if they're just friends, right?) so to him, this was always coming down the road. He seems proud that Buck was able to end it this easily.

Meanwhile, Eddie's going on a "not-date" with Marisol to chaperone Christopher's date with Penny. It's telling to me that Eddie doesn't classify this as a date with Marisol, but Buck does. Buck considers being at home watching Christopher as a date, and yet he seemingly doesn't classify all the times he's been over at Eddie's hanging out with just him and Chris to be a date? To me, this shows the first big disconnect in Buck/Eddie's brains that the show will likely dismantle this season: what is classified as platonic and what is classified as romantic, and which gender is allowed to be in each category. We'll come back to this when we get to the next scene.

Eddie is very supportive of Buck breaking up with Natalia. He doesn't say it directly to his face, but it's implied that Buck really lost himself when he was with Natalia, hence Eddie's "Welcome back to the land of the living". While Buck did struggle with figuring out his life purpose at the end of season 6, he falsely prescribed that purpose to Natalia. Thankfully, this was rectified here. This also shows significant growth for Buck from his last relationship with Taylor Kelly. Buck was able to identify issues in his relationship quicker and was able to cut the relationship short when he realized it was no longer healthy to maintain for him. I am extremely proud of Buck in this moment, as is Eddie, which is the first of two big moments in this episode where Buck and Eddie really showcase their pride in the other's personal growth. "You were missed" is such a simple yet perfect line for Eddie to give to Buck. To show Buck that Eddie has always seen him, and will always see him, even through personal lows, and will still remain by his side when they come out the other side. I really love this showcase of unconditional love here.

The next time we see Buck and Eddie, the chaperone date has already passed. Eddie and Marisol are seen watching Chris and Penny from behind the wall, but it's highkey awkward to watch and the focus of this scene is really not Eddie/Marisol but rather Chris and Penny and Eddie relaying this info to Buck. I first want to point out that we don't actually get to see Eddie/Marisol's first date, we don't see any subsequential dates, and the first time we DO see her, in an episode meant to be establishing couples, she's so blink-and-you'll-miss-it that I had to try 3 times to get this screenshot because it went by so fast. It's never a good sign when we don't actually get to see the beginnings of a non-established relationship.

Additionally, Eddie/Marisol's relationship is framed WITHIN Eddie recounting the night to BUCK. The important Eddie relationship we're supposed to be paying attention to in this scene is not Eddie/Marisol but Eddie and Buck's. It's not important for us to see Eddie and Marisol hanging out, but it IS important for us to see Eddie TELLING Buck about the night. That isn't insignificant. This means the show is clearly placing far more importance on Eddie/Buck than on Marisol, and for a pointed reason to be revealed hopefully later this season.

This is the only line that Marisol has in the entire episode. This being the one line she has is interesting because it's a callback to Eddie's arc last season ie. "Eddie has no game with women". Christopher makes a pointed comment about it in 6x18. And of course, it's a callback to Performance Anxiety 6x14 where Eddie was being pressured about dating women and 6x17 Love Is In The Air where he once again pressures himself into dating women until he finally settles on Marisol. It's an interesting call back to have, considering this scene could have been considered Eddie successfully dating a woman. And of course this ties into later in this episode where we get the "turning women off" comment, which I'll talk more about later.

Eddie goes on to tell Buck that he didn't really see any difference between Christopher hanging out with his male friends vs hanging out with his female friends. This is drawing attention to two things. The first is a call-back to Buck and Eddie's previous scene where we saw that Buck and Eddie have two different ideas of what constitutes "a date" when it's with a man versus a woman. Buck thinks that an at-home date with Marisol to watch Chris counts as a date, Eddie doesn't. Yet Buck doesn't consider his own at-home "hang-outs" with Eddie and Chris to be a date despite them being far more frequent and more meaningful than what we just saw with Marisol. Eddie also doesn't see it that way. This line is an indicator that both Buck and Eddie have blinders on currently when it comes to their interactions with each other, interactions which very much COULD be considered a date (including the later mentioned "underlying sexual tension") if they had done the same thing with a woman. They're just unable to recognize the truth of it at the moment, and this is clearly demonstrated when Eddie can't tell the difference between Chris having his date with his male friends vs. female. My prediction is that this will become more defined for Eddie by the end of the season or leading into next season.

But it's very interesting that this idea of not being able to recognize the possibility of romance except for the heteronormative options is coming into play now because there's really only one gay way to subvert that.

Which is then doubled down by Buck in the very next scene.

This is blatantly not a true statement. Buck is not only assuming Chris's sexuality, but he's assuming the same would be the case in general, which is not true. Buck knows many queer people, but at the same time, every queer person he knows canonically falls more into the gay-lesbian binary, and not really anywhere in the middle (ie. bi/pan people). It's an oddly heteronormative statement coming from Buck, who is known to be very open-minded and also researches a shit ton? So why are we being shown that Buck has this sort of narrow-mindedness specifically when it comes to the possibility of people being bisexual?

(Spec) Firstly, I think this is to set up for a bisexual Buck arc. It's showing that Buck actually 1.) hasn't ever been with a man before so this is not just a casual bi reveal and 2.) that he's never actually considered it a possibility to have sexual tension with a man before. This is what we in writing call "the character's fundamental misbelief" and it is brought in specifically to be challenged, and I'm near-positive it will be at some point in the season.

Secondly, On the surface, this statement is telling the audience that obviously Christopher would only have tension with his female friends, right? (sarcasm). But what's interesting is that this statement is purposefully gender-neutral. It leaves the real meaning up to the audience to decide. Why? Because this part of the conversation is not really about Christopher. On the surface, yes, but beneath that, this line and the line before it are about Eddie and Buck's relationship with each other. Buck's not out here talking about Christopher having sexual tension with people, and even Eddie recognizes that it's weird to talk about in relation to their child. He's still in the nest for christ's sake! These lines are in relation to Buck and Eddie's friendship and how both of them are blind to the fact that it very much IS possible to have sexual tension with your female AND male friends.

And this is where the gender-neutrality of that phrase gets extra interesting. Because as we've seen before, Buck and (more prominently) Eddie often lack chemistry with their female love interests. It's up for debate, but the general consensus was that most people did not feel any chemistry between Buck/Natalia, and Eddie/Ana or Eddie/Marisol. What's fascinating is that Buck has had chemistry with some of his female love interests, but Eddie hasn't had any since Shannon (and this is not an endorsement of Eddie/Shannon's romantic relationship. I'm not getting into the extreme nuances of that right now.) Some argue Eddie's had chemistry with Felisa or Vanessa, but they aren't the ones Eddie's dating right now, are they? So Eddie, unlike Buck with his female LI's, hasn't really had any sexual tension with Ana or Marisol. The only person that (most) people agree Eddie has had sexual tension with is Buck. And we had a scene with them earlier with Buck watching a half-naked Eddie change too. So in this case, the line might also be a reference to Eddie having chemistry with men, but not really with any of his female LI's. I think the purposeful vagueness here though was a very telling choice on Tim's part.

Additionally, the use of the word "underlying". Underlying implies that the sexual tension isn't overt, but rather is something that lingers unspoken. Under the surface. Subtextual, if you will. Of course, it's possible to have subtextual sexual tension between an M/F pairing. But placing it in the context of this scene, where Buck is being weirdly heteronormative, it feels contradictory. If Buck believes that he (and Chris by proxy) can only have sexual tension with a female friend, why is it something that is hidden under the surface? If anything, due to heteronormativity, the sexual tension between a boy and girl should be plain as day for anyone to see, on the surface, very much textual and with no room for interpretation (ie. "He was a boy, she was a girl, could I make it any more obvious?"). But let's flip this around. With queer pairings and couplings, there's a huge history of their sexual tension and romance only being able to live and breathe in the subtext. This line being spoken between two men that many people for years have pointed out are heavily queer-coded and have a romantically-coded "bro" relationship with each other that so far has only been able to exist in subtext? Tim, you're not sly. I see right through you.

After that, Eddie tells Buck about Christopher seeing 5 girls at the same time. Everyone's shocked and Eddie insinuates that Christopher didn't get this from him. By pointing out that Buck is a reformed playboy (I personally disagree with aspects of this statement but that's neither here nor there), Eddie is implying that Christopher may potentially be getting this trait from Buck. Which is an interesting thing to say to someone if they're not already heavily involved in the process of raising your child. Eddie claims that he's a "nester", which in my mind means someone who is very paternal/maternal, or constantly trying to build the home or the family. ((Sidebar: I googled nesting and apparently it's ALSO a term used in both polyamorous spaces and was later separately coined as a term referring to "where men treat women like they’re in a relationship, but they expect those women to know that it will never lead to real one." I don't interpret this line to mean either of those other definitions, I just think it's interesting that this is what popped up when I googled Nesting)).

Eddie then says he "married the first girl he dated" and Buck instantly volleys back with "think you mean slept with", which is EXTREMELY telling of a few things. First, I want to point out, that I don't believe this is Buck denouncing or disrespecting Shannon's important role in Eddie or Chris's life, but rather recontextualizing it.

We got clarification last season that Eddie fell into his relationship with Shannon almost in the same way that he fell into one with Ana and Marisol. It was heavily implied that Shannon was the pursuer, the one who made their relationship happen. Not Eddie. While Eddie was a little less passive with Ana and Marisol, being the one to ask both of them out, he still exhibits extreme passivity in the furthering of each of these relationships, preferring to "stick it out" rather than actually end it when it's not working. This is the exact same thing he did with Shannon. It's interesting that Buck argues that Eddie married the first girl he slept with rather than the first girl he dated.

Dating someone implies you really genuinely want to form a deep romantic relationship with someone (ie. call back to Buck's line to Maddie "at least when I date someone, I date them"), whereas sleeping with someone does not have to immediately mean wanting to be with them romantically. To me, this implies that while Eddie might've deeply loved Shannon as a friend and eventual mother of his child later and had sexual chemistry with her, the reason why he stayed with her is not because he wanted to continue dating her or being with her because he was IN LOVE with HER but rather because they slept together. And what came about from sleeping with her? A fucking traumatic teen pregnancy.

Both Buck AND Eddie recognize that in this scene (which is huge, especially for Eddie). I'm kinda blown away honestly. It's extremely important for the audience to see that while Eddie did, does and will always love Shannon, it is NOT romantic love, and may have not ever been. Which is FINE. They were literal teenagers for god's sake.

This is once again a recurring theme in Buck and Eddie's story in this episode. Defining what is considered romantic and what is considered platonic AND the possibility of redefining those distinctions years later. And it's interesting that in this case with Shannon, a woman, it's finally being acknowledged that it might not have been as romantic as Eddie may have believed for all these years.

Eddie then asks Buck to be the one to talk to Christopher about his relationship indiscretions. We see Eddie making the active choice to bring Buck deeper into the co-parenting role that's already been established in seasons 2-6. Right after Eddie talks about being a nester, a home-builder, he brings Buck deeper into his family in a parental role. To me, this scene doesn't imply that Eddie can't do it, or that it's out of his wheelhouse, but rather because he feels like Christopher might relate to Buck more about this. But even more so, it shows that Eddie inherently trusts Buck to be the one to talk to Christopher about this, because he's seen how Buck has grown over the years.

Eddie doesn't want Christopher to continue making bad choices in life and he tries to convey this to Buck, but Buck, with his own self-esteem issues, assumes that Eddie doesn't want Christopher to end up like Buck. Which is fascinating because Buck's made it a huge point throughout the series to show that he's grown past his sleeping-around phase (which was never about disrespecting or using women, it was always about Buck's own desire for love and connection that he felt he could only get through sex). And yet with this line, we see that Buck still doesn't realize how far he's come. He still feels like he isn't worth emulating or being someone to look up to. But Eddie does. Eddie sees and loves Buck to his core, and so he points it out to Buck that no, Buck actually didn't become that person, and that Buck is, in fact, worthy of being the one to parent Christopher in this situation. Once again, this is a great moment of showing how these two are able to see past their facades to the truth of each other's issues and provide strength, reassurance, and clarity to each other, as an ideal life partner would be able to do.

Then we get to see this amazing scene of Eddie talking down a panicking woman using his own unique "jello" methods. This coping mechanism tool he walks her through really does sound like something a therapist might teach their patient. Eddie not only is able to admit to having panic attacks but he's able to do it in front of strangers and his team alike with no shame (even a bit of pride at the end). This scene, which could've gotten very awkward very fast, ended up becoming a very sweet, serene moment where we also get to see that love reflected on Buck's face just how proud he is of how far Eddie has come. This episode made a point to show Buck and Eddie recognizing the other's growth and their pride in the other, as well as demonstrate how both are able to be there for the other emotionally in their times of need.

What's interesting is that this is all stuff that we've seen before. Buck and Eddie have been each other's emotional pillars for many years now. This is just a re-establishing episode. We know that this season their relationship is going to be shifting, growing, and showing a new side to it. So I'm intrigued to see how that will manifest given that we have already seen in one episode how Buck and Eddie are each other's closest person. Some might argue that this episode actually frames them to be closer and more emotionally supportive of each other than two of the other canonically romantic couples on the show.

Bathena are shown to be having marital problems in this episode, with Athena worrying she and Bobby might not actually have that much in common outside of the chaos. Madney is shown with pre-martial problems, with Chimney unnecessarily worrying he and Maddie's spark might fizzle out over the years and they might grow to resent each other. I'm not saying either of these relationship problems is really accurate, but it's just interesting to look at in comparison to how Buck and Eddie were framed in this episode, despite not being in a canonical romantic relationship at the moment.

This exchange absolutely took me the fuck out. Because this line did not need to be there. Even for the giggles. It could've even been a line of Buck being sincere and saying that he's proud of Eddie or something. Instead, we get this. "I've never seen a man turn a woman off with such skill". This line connected with the line from Marisol are both callbacks to Eddie's series-long issue with dating women. We get this in conjunction with Buck pointing out that Eddie doesn't really date these women he's in relationships with. He's just with them due to circumstances. Even if the circumstances are of his own making (which could be a symptom of compulsory heterosexuality). Eddie has never once talked about dating women like he's actually attracted to women. I'm so sorry. AND combined with the line where Buck and Eddie actually acknowledge that Eddie wasn't really with Shannon because he wanted to be with her but because of the family they accidentally created. All of this in ONE episode leading up to this line where it's heavily implied that Eddie's skill is his inability to turn women on, and to actually be able to turn them all the way off. And I'm just going to say it, but this line HEAVILY implies queerness. This is the kind of line you'd expect someone to say to a gay man or someone who doesn't actually want the sexual attention of a woman. This, again, in conjunction with Eddie not being able to tell the difference between a date with a woman vs. a man, is all too pointed.

This line alone in a vacuum could maybe not mean queerness, but alongside the whole rest of the episode where beat after beat after beat implies that Eddie has in fact NEVER been in a relationship with a woman 100% of his own active desire for her as a person and not just for what she can provide to his or his son's life?

This points to a very particular direction with Eddie that I'm expecting to see him fight against really hard this season. I would not be surprised if he ends up holding onto Marisol as the last shreds of perceived "normalcy" (ie. heterosexuality) are being threatened. Hopefully, he'll be able to reconcile the truth by the end of the season or going into season 8.

God this is so long and we haven't even gotten to the buddifer scene yet. This part will be a bit more condensed because I'm not really analyzing Chris as a character here or his relationship with Shannon. Maybe I will later.

I'm really loving seeing Christopher become his own person this season. But what really fascinates me here is Chris as a parallel to both Buck and Eddie. Christopher's abandonment trauma is starting to manifest in him through his choices with his love life. The same thing happened with Buck and with Eddie individually. Buck's trauma growing up informed his choices of sleeping around and seeking love from a myriad of individuals who didn't necessarily have his best interest at heart. Eddie's trauma manifested in him being so self-sacrificing that he can't ever choose a relationship for himself, but it always has to be in service of someone else or in pursuit of a perceived "Normal" standard.

In this case with Chris, his trauma is manifesting in a way more similar to Buck's, which is another reason why it's so perfect to see Buck being the one to discuss this with Chris, even though they don't necessarily delve too deep into it. There's no question Buck sees his own issues reflected in Chris. This has been true since 4x08 Breaking Point when Chris runs to Buck's house and confides in Buck his worries about people leaving him. Chris demonstrates a similar issue that Buck and Eddie both hold individually. That being the notion that "it doesn't matter what I do, or how good of a person I am, or how good of a partner I am, I am not worth staying for."

But the difference here is that Eddie and Buck, like the amazing co-parents they are, recognize the problem and take steps to address Christopher's trauma in a way that gives Chris autonomy and isn't condescending or out to make Christopher feel bad about making mistakes. The Buckley parents and the Diaz parents both failed Buck and Eddie in these ways because they blamed their children, never actually took the time to see the underlying issues let alone address them, and made them feel like everything was their fault, even going so far as to actively put their children down over and over and over again. Eddie and Buck get the beautiful chance to break the cycle here with Chris and get to be the parents that they never had.

It was so amazing to watch this episode with Buck and Eddie being supportive partners to each other and supportive parents to Christopher. It was an episode of growth just as much as it was an episode of reintroduction to a new audience. It was also extremely telling of what the future conflicts and themes will likely continue to be for Buck and Eddie for the rest of this season. I'm so excited to see what the rest of this season brings! And thank you from the bottom of my heart, ABC.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: PITT

Published: Sep 30, 2023

Our son recently started graduate school. He began hormone therapy during his final year of undergraduate education. Because he began to identify as a lesbian, transgender woman at 20 and showed no sign of gender dysphoria before that, we never had a chance to reflect – or advise him – on his choices. Going through the published medical research on the effects of estrogen made me aware that psychologically, excess estradiol in the serum causes depression among males, and physiologically, there are potentially much more severe side effects, including some impacting the brain and the immunological system. More of that in a minute.

Fast forwarding to the present day, before our son left for graduate school at a University with one of the country's most renowned medical schools. I decided to write to their student health center and share the studies I had found and, more relevantly, the psychological history of our child. What follows is the text of the letter and, after deleting potentially identifying information, the response from a high-ranking official within the health center. They are, for the lack of a better phrase, quite revealing.

First, my letter (I have not disclosed the name of the university and have changed the name of our child here, with apologies to the real Jonathans of the world; furthermore, apologies for the triggering usage of pronouns – I did not want to be dismissed as the “usual, hateful, bigoted transphobe”; rather, I wanted to be considered as the deadly serious parent who would do anything in their power to prevent their child from coming to harm):

-

Dear Apex University Health Center,

Our child, Jonathan, who is joining the graduate program at Apex University this Fall, identified themself as transgender during their sophomore year in college (2021) and started estrogen therapy in early 2023. Since every one of these interventions is off-label, I have been looking up the peer-reviewed literature on the effect of estrogen and whether there are any risks that our child needs to be aware of as they continue on this path. My findings, which I summarize below (and link to the sources), have been alarming. Several endocrinologists – some who publish extensively – have told me they were unaware of the new literature. I have also been in touch with the Endocrine Society, and their response heightened my alarm.

While we respect our child's identification with their gender identity, we felt that they exhibited several psychological symptoms right before identifying as a lesbian, transgender woman (Jonathan was assigned male at birth and did not show any inclinations to identify as female before April 2021), and these co-occurring symptoms were not considered at all before he started on the prescribed medicines. Most tellingly, just before identifying as transgender, Jonathan's romantic advances were rebuffed by the woman of their affection. Subsequently, Jonathan also lost every friend they had, thereby remaining completely alone in their dorm room for the greater part of their last two years of undergraduate education. However, these psychological symptoms were never explored. Jonathan was recommended to start on estradiol and spironolactone immediately, which they did – and their physical and mental health symptoms have deteriorated since. Jonathan is also quite depressed, spending all their time without emerging from their room.

That is not surprising since, when it comes to the recent research on estrogen in natal males, excess estrogen in the serum in natal males has been associated with depression – studies among adult men and adolescent boys show that. Clinical studies (i.e., studies that recruit actual subjects and follow them clinically rather than rely on anonymous, online, non-probability surveys) that promote gender medicine fail to show any improvement in psychosocial outcomes among natal males. For example, the New England Journal of Medicine study from early 2023 concluded that hormone therapy is psychologically beneficial for transgender youth. However, in the main text, the study finds no improvement in depression, anxiety symptoms, or life satisfaction among natal male youth (the relevant paragraph is at the bottom of page 244 of the journal issue).

Thus, psychologically, there is ample evidence that excess estrogen is associated with depression among natal males. Physiologically, recent research shows that estrogen might have far more deleterious effects. A study showed that 12 months of estrogen treatment among transgender women leads to a decrease in serum BDNF levels. That is significant because a separate study shows that this decrease in serum BDNF level is associated with increased risks of developing MDD (or major depressive disorder).  Lower levels of brain BDNF levels have also been associated with neurodegenerative disorders and found in the brains of patients with Alzheimer's, Parkinson’s, MS, and Huntington’s disease.

A high-quality rodent study shows that estrogen therapy among adult male rats leads to changes in their brains that resemble the changes in the brains of trans women. (There have been several other studies (2 links) among trans women that have shown these changes, but the rodent study indicated the mechanism by which these changes occurred in the brain.) Specifically, estrogen seemingly reduced the water content in the astrocytes and thereby disturbed the delicate homeostasis in the brain by increasing the relative concentration of glutamate (the brain's most abundant excitatory neurotransmitter), leading to glutamate excitotoxicity. As the Cleveland Clinic informs us, an increase in glutamate in the brain is associated with higher risks of neurological disorders like Alzheimer's disease, ALS, and many other diseases like multiple sclerosis. The research also showed that estrogen decreased brain cortical thickness and volume (which other studies have linked to patients with schizophrenia and bipolar disorder and lower levels of general intelligence). Furthermore, it was found to reduce cortical white matter integrity (which is related to cognitive instability). There is also empirical evidence of the lowering of cognitive abilities among transgender women that was presented at the EPATH conference in April 2023 (in Killarney, Ireland) - the researchers noted this decline among long-term patients at Amsterdam's famed gender clinic.

Research in the last few years shows that estrogen therapy among trans women has been associated with higher risks of various autoimmune diseases, from multiple sclerosis (recall, too, the association of MS with an increase in glutamate) to rheumatoid arthritis and many others in between. It has been associated with increases in the risks of prostate cancer and breast cancer. It increases risks of cardiovascular diseases (2 links), often by as much as tenfold compared to their cisgender counterparts.

Empirically, we see a much higher incidence of many of these physical and neurological diseases in the transgender population. It is perhaps not a coincidence, therefore, that population cohort studies (2 links) show that trans women, on average, die decades earlier than either cisgender men or women.

When I approached the Endocrine Society with what I had found and pointed out that many of these findings came out after the publication of their guidelines in 2017, I received an email from their Director of Clinical Practice Guidelines that they are currently fast-tracking a revision of those guidelines. She also mentioned that their evidence evaluation criteria have changed since the guidelines were published and that they now use the GRADE criteria for evaluating evidence. This is encouraging, but I have no idea how long it will take for the new guidelines to appear.

I point all of this out because Jonathan has the chance to start afresh and be reevaluated at Apex University's healthcare system. We increasingly see them stumbling with their memory, something that we could not even think of a year earlier – Jonathan used to have a photographic memory ever since they were a child. Having heard so much about Apex's medical school, we have high hopes that Jonathan's evaluation at Apex University's medical system will be more thorough than it has been so far. Let me be clear: We have no doubt about their gender dysphoria or their intense discomfort in their traditional gender role – we worry about that all the time. It is just that we have observed that medicalization has not brought them any balm so far – in fact, just the opposite. While the absence of any upsides (and the possible significant downsides) in the literature – psychological or otherwise – heightens our alarm.

After all, it is not only a lone voice like ours, but even mainstream media like the Economist (their April 5 issue with the cover story “The evidence to support medicalized gender transitions in adolescents is worryingly weak” comes to mind) and storied institutions like the British Medical Association and the systematic reviews of the literature from national medical associations of very transgender-friendly countries like Sweden, Finland, Norway, the UK, and (most recently) Denmark that are raising the alarm on the lack of high-quality evidence of any benefits from hormone therapy. (And these reviews I mention above cover only the evidence of the psychological effects of the hormones – they do not even consider the long-term physiological consequences.)

If all the evidence from the past few years is to be believed, there is now quite a body of evidence of genuine harm from administering estrogen to the natal male body (I have not researched the effects of excess testosterone on the natal female body, and so I cannot comment on that.)

As one of the world's leading lights in healthcare to nudge society toward better outcomes through research, Apex University will be well placed to lead the march for evidence-based care in gender-affirming care.

Thank you very much for reviewing the evidence that I have found and considering our child's health as they start their journey at Apex University. Please let me know if you have any questions. I look forward to hearing back from you.

With warmest regards,

XXX

-

A few days later, I got their response. I have highlighted the relevant portions of their email and annotated them within brackets [all formatting mine]. As I said, it’s quite revealing.

-

Dear XXX:

Thank you very much for sharing your concerns about your child with us.

…Apex U's Student Health Center (Apex SHC) is not directly affiliated with Apex Medical School and we do not provide care under the umbrella of the hospital. [Is the respondent making sure that the medical school is not implicated if something goes wrong with our son?] However, we do collaborate closely with our colleagues at the hospital and medical school, including in the management of our student receiving gender affirming care.

…

Gender affirming care is a unique process in medicine in that we are not aiming to treat and eliminate a disease process. [Ah, an admission that there is no real goal of treatment through this care. Finally! But read on…it gets better.] Instead, we are using the tools of medicine to help individuals achieve very personal and sometimes nebulous [nebulous? WTF? After all these years of "settled science," all we have is “nebulous?”] physical and emotional goals. Success is not based on a clinical metric but usually involves a better quality of life balanced with potential risks including morbidity and mortality. [So, finally, an explicit admission – success is not based on any clinical metric. That makes complete sense to us inconvenient parents. After all, how can there be? There never have been any metrics, ever. At. All. All we have are some "nebulous" ideas of "better quality of life" – as decided by the patient right now, with no consideration of what might happen in the future as a result of the free dispensation of off-label medication. And oh, by the way, that "better quality of life" includes morbidity factors and dying much faster.] We at the Apex SHC make every effort to ensure that our patients are well-informed [in other words, make sure that they have signed the informed consent forms!] about each decision that they make and have time to consider these impacts without pressure [The irony of the sentence – “have time to consider these impacts without pressure.” Wow! really?]

Should your child decide to engage with us in care, our commitment to them is to prioritize their safety [oh, the irony, once more!], the elements of their well-being that we can support [the rest – whether caring for them for the rest of their lives or paying for their illnesses and hospitalizations, with a big fuck you to your dwindling retirement funds – is up to you, you bigoted parents!], and to help them make a bright future for themselves.

Very best,

AAA

-

As I read and re-read the email, all I could think was – Wow! What an amazing letter! AAA has no qualms admitting that there are no clinical goals of treatment when it comes to gender-affirming care. This is really quite convenient if you think about it—if there are no aims, any outcome is fine! No wonder these physicians get all flustered when we inconvenient parents ask them about clinical goals and outcomes.

All that these caring physicians want to achieve are some nebulous (which the dictionary defines as unclear, vague, or indefinite) goals. Oh, and please remember – once again – that those are personal goals, so please don’t ask about evidence of well-being. (An inconvenient question, though – why should such personal goals be funded by others, whether it is the government or private insurance?)

And what if, as a result of those nebulous goals, the patients go through psychological, emotional, and physical distress for the rest of their lives, as detailed in the medical literature? Really, shame on you, you bigoted parents! Always such a nag! Always the party pooper. Why do you have to ask such inconvenient questions? Haven’t these caring physicians already made it clear that these are personal goals and that it really doesn’t matter that young children who are distressed might have no idea how to make a rational choice about the future? Who cares if they become hyper-fixated about something, as young children are wont to?

But then again, really, there is no pressure. No pressure at all. These kids are otherwise well-adjusted grown adults who know exactly who they are. Probably from the time they were toddlers. (What? You want evidence? This is getting really tiring. Give it a break, will you?) These are kids who are not immersed online, who do not gulp down narratives about “gender euphoria.” They are stable, rational human beings with a very clear idea of what the future holds.

All these well-meaning saints – these gender-affirming physicians – want is to give these kids a bright future: a future so bright that it will probably include that intense bright light these pitiable young men will see when they die decades earlier than their non-medicalized peers. Who are you parents to stand in their way?

==

This is quite a remarkable admission. If there are no metrics and the objectives are "nebulous," then that's the very definition of not-scientific, not-medical. How can this be "necessary," and even "life-saving" if it's also "nebulous"? God is both real and undetectable?

How can it be "settled science"?

You're letting people self-diagnose and self-prescribe in order to chase something nebulous? What the hell?

[nyrandrea]

Hello! So sorry if I’m bothering you, but do you still accept Astarion x Tav requests? If so. I have a prompt for you if you care to read about it.

Basically, you know that moment in Astarion and Tav’s relationship where Astarion fully opens up to Tav about his trauma and his feelings regarding intimacy? Let’s say in this scenario, this Tav realizes that they feel the exact same way about intimacy after Astarion describes his revelations about it. Tav and Astarion have similar trauma and handled it in similar, but also vastly different ways: Astarion used intimacy as a survival tool and a manipulation tactic, and Tav used intimacy as a means of keeping those they love interested, as they feel they have no other redeeming qualities that would make people stay.

I think it’d be funny for two clowns to realize that neither ever wanted to bang each other yet and both just wanted a hug. It’s also touching, two abused souls finding comfort in each other and coming to terms with their boundaries.

Of course if such a scenerio is not one you are comfortable writing for, I completely understand! I couldn’t find your guidelines so I’m taking the risk and asking.

Your writing is spectacular by the way. I hope you have a nice day!

Yes, hi, hello, I LOVE the scene you're talking about so I decided to expand on it slightly for this prompt! We stan consent and boundaries in this house 😔✊

TW for vague mentions of past sexual abuse

Word Count: 1.3k

Enjoy!

xxx

In the quiet recesses of your memory, you held the echoes of a time when you had walked down the path that society prescribed, where passion was deemed a necessity and love an excuse for physical intimacy. But as you gazed into your past, you realized that the fire within you had been a mere illusion, a flicker of conformity. 

Your heart longed for emotional intimacy, in the gentle touch of a hand or soft-spoken words was where you found the depth of affection you so desperately sought. It was in these moments that you felt most yourself, when your inner conflicts melted away and you embraced love in the way that you wanted to. 

So, you succumbed to the pressures of a world that insisted on desire in exchange for such affections. You danced in the moonlight, your body a vessel for another’s longing, and yet, each touch had felt like a borrowed emotion. Your past was a stage where you had performed, but the script was never truly your own. 

The turning point arrived like the soft whisper of truth in the night. In a moment of self-reflection that you thought might never come, and from the person that you least expected. 

“Do you have a moment?” Astarion asked, softly adding, “I... I think we need to talk.” 

You knew that tone all too well: apprehension from one that you hadn’t had sex with for a while. You braced yourself, swallowing a dry lump down your throat and turned to him with a smile. 

“Are you alright?” you asked, already knowing full well what the answer was. 

“Oh yes, I’m fine,” he quickly said with a grin that fell just as fast. “I just... feel awful.” 

You sighed through your nose and crossed your arms, expecting the honeyed words, the seduction tactics, and then the demands. 

“Look, I had a plan,” Astarion started. “A nice, simple plan – seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me.” 

You raise an eyebrow as he chuckles nervously while fiddling with his hands. You weren’t quite used to seeing him so... tense. Astarion was usually the suave, calm and entrancing type that swept you off your feet with his charms and dramatic flair.

But right now he looked like some scorned child that got caught with his hand in the sweet jar. 

“It was easy-” 

You frowned.

“Instinctive,” he swiftly corrected. “Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do... was fall for it. And all I had to do was not fall for you.” 

Ripples of anxiety pulsed through you as you observed his subtle shifts in body language – how his eyes darted away from you, the way his lips twitched up into a forced smile. You dissected every word, convinced that this was his way of an impending farewell. 

“...Which is where my nice, simple plan... fell apart.” 

You blinked in surprise while he gestured at you as if he was at a loss for words. 

“You... you’re incredible,” he breathed. “And... you deserve something real. I want us... to be something real.” 

You struggled to find your voice, to address the storm brewing in your heart. You longed to confront the unknown, to seek the truth, to bridge the gap between your turbulent emotions and quiet expectation. More than anything, you were just confused. The presumption of sex loomed like a thunderhead in your mind. Did he... truly see you for more than that?

Nobody else had. Why should he be any different?

You had to find the strength to confront the tempest before it engulfed you for good. 

“So, the... the nights we s-spent together,” you grimaced as you stuttered, hating how pathetic you sounded. “They didn’t mean anything to you?” 

“Of course they did!” Astarion moved to lay a comforting hand on you, but his arm stayed motionless in the air for a moment before dropping to his side, almost in defeat. “That’s the problem, or... part of it.” 

Your mouth soured with the taste of bile. “Were you even... attracted to me? Or was it all a lie?” 

“Of course I was attracted to you, I mean, just look at you!”  

Try as you might, you couldn’t help the heat that crept along your cheeks. 

“You’re a vision. And you’re so much more than that.” 

Your heart raced; your surprise palpable. You never imagined anyone seeing you as more than a lover, to be more than just a physical desire, but as someone to be cherished. 

He bit his lip as he glanced down briefly, his fangs nearly piercing the skin. “Being... close to someone – any kind of intimacy – was something I performed to lure people back for him.” 

Astarion’s voice was laced with venom at the mere mention of his old master, and you wanted nothing more than to comfort him, but you restrained yourself, allowing him to continue. 

“Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels... tainted,” he said. “Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing.” 

His eyes locked onto yours, and you could see how afraid he was. How scared that his confession will shatter the delicate equilibrium of your relationship, transforming it into something unfamiliar. 

“I don’t know how else to be with someone,” he admitted. “No matter how much I’d like to.” 

The stars seemed to align for you as he looked at you, through you, with his eyes glazed over. You wanted him to understand that love was not confined to lust and desire, but rather it was an intricate mosaic of trust, companionship and unwavering support.  

You wanted to cradle his hopes and dreams, nurture his ambitions and rejoice in his happiness. You were the keeper of his secrets, and the safe haven of his vulnerabilities.  

���Astarion,” you said. “I care about you. Deeply.” 

“Really?” he muttered, his eyes crinkling into disbelief. 

“Yes,” you felt a shiver down your spine, a chill that had nothing to do with the cooling temperature. “This might sound strange but... may I hold you?” 

Astarion’s surprise was evident, but his eyes soften as he observes the mixture of anxiety and hope on your face.  

“I... I would like that,” he quietly responds, his voice nearly a mere whisper. 

With a tender yet unexpected smile, you wrap your arms around him, embracing him tightly. 

Astarion’s body tenses up and for a moment, he just stands there, uncertainty etched across his face. It was as though the world had momentarily paused, leaving him in a state of sweet confusion. He hesitates, as though he’s unsure of how to respond. Then, with a reluctant but genuine warmth, he slowly brings his arms around you. His embrace is cautious at first, like a hesitant deer testing the waters of a lake. 

As you hold each other, a gentle breeze rustles through the leaves of the surrounding trees and his grip gradually begins to tighten as though he’s afraid of letting you go, his head burying further into your shoulder as if to get lost within you. 

It was in this simple act, in the unspoken acceptance of your affection, that Astarion realised the beauty of your ability to break down barriers, and it was in this moment that the evolution of your understanding came with a newfound freedom. No longer did either of you need to force yourself into moulds that didn’t fit.  

Your relationship transformed into a profound connection built upon trust, and the conversations that lasted long into the night. Your love was no longer tangled in the constraints of physicality; it soared in the uncharted skies of emotional intimacy. 

xxx

Links to my other Astarion works

Everything's Fine

Restless

Request - Astarion kills everyone in his path to get to you

Request - Astarion tries to save you from kidnappers

Request - Astarion helps you to see that you're beautiful

Request - Astarion gets kidnapped

Request - You and Astarion share an intimate moment (light smut)

[thewhumpcaretaker]

⚜ 𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕎𝕙𝕠 ℍ𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕃𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝔽𝕠𝕣 - ℂ𝕙. 𝕍𝕀𝕀𝕀: 𝕀𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℝ𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕡𝕤 ⚜

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ ✧.*★ Thank you to @evren-sadwrn for the beta read!

Summary: After returning from the hospital, Vincent struggles to move on.

TW: grief, depression, discussion of past child abuse, flashback to a past murder, smut (frot), Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Author's Note: I searched Bill Skarsgård hospital bed last time and this didn't come up but now I search Bill Skarsgård pajamas and it does come up - it's okay. Sigh. Also yes, the rain-related parts in this chapter are a reference to The Crow.

Whether it was a blessing or a curse that he missed his father’s funeral, Vincent hardly knew. He wasn’t sure he would have been able to bear it, to interact with mourners and give eulogies and talk confidently about future plans for the family name. But one way or another, as prescribed by French law, it took place within six days of the Marquis Àlderic’s death, while Vincent was still in a coma. By the time he awoke, let alone recovered, everything that could have been considered any form of closure was already over, and he had missed it. He seemed stuck in that awful moment in the ballroom, unable to move on.

After another two weeks in the hospital, there was an attempt to take him back to the Gramont estate. Physically, he was better. There were some limitations on exercise to prevent overexertion, but no reason for him to be in the hospital any longer. Nonetheless, upon his return, the household politely agreed that the Marquis was still in severe pain. Yes, that was why he remained bedridden, behind locked doors, for the bulk of each day. He was not, for instance, depressed.

But even he couldn’t deny that he was terrified to leave his room, or to be in that house at all. Setting foot outside his bedroom sent him into nervous fits of cold sweat at the sight of the halls where his father had died, and where he had nearly met the same fate. He could not bear to look at any part of his surroundings, and even in his own bedroom, he seemed to stare through the walls in a way that frightened the servants. They were mostly driven out. No one was allowed to see him. No one except Chidi.

Vincent looked up at Chidi from under heaps of blankets. He was silhouetted against the window, while Vincent just lay there and breathed. It was raining heavily, enough to send sheets of water pouring down the glass, obscuring the ground below. Chidi must be watching that ceaseless pattern of raindrops that depressed Vincent even further than usual. He hadn’t managed to get up at all that day, even to get dressed. His eyes were clouded over with tears that he couldn’t dispel or explain. Yet Chidi stayed next to him, weeks and weeks into this mess, and still waited for him to feel better. Was this the behavior of a bodyguard? What were they to one another?

Chidi looked over at him suddenly. “Monsieur, si la pluie s'arrête plus tard, voudriez-vous aller au jardin avec moi? [Sir, if the rain stops later, would you like to go to the garden with me?]”

“Oui. Si la pluie s'arrête. [Yes. If the rain stops.]” But it showed no signs of stopping, and if it had, perhaps he wouldn’t have agreed. Vincent’s voice sounded worryingly quiet and barely alive. He would not at all like to go to the garden. But at least he was a little more alive than usual. He felt some alertness, had the strength even to think about Chidi at all. The presence of mind to feel grateful. And with gratefulness came a deep affection.

He reached out a hand and pulled Chidi into the bed beside him. Chidi offered no resistance, only his full attention. But Vincent wasn’t sure he had anything to say. He just wanted his bodyguard closer. They sat like that a while, enjoying the sight of one another. At last, Chidi broke the silence, perhaps encouraged by Vincent’s willingness to go for a walk. “Si je peux vous demander… voudriez-vous parler de certaines choses, monsieur? [If I may ask…would you like to talk about things, sir?]”

Vincent stiffened immediately. They still had never spoken directly about what happened, or why exactly it had disturbed Vincent so much. But that seemed too obvious for words. Or maybe too horrible. He cleared his throat and blinked, trying to get rid of pesky tears. “Qu'y a-t-il à dire? [What is there to say?]”

“Je ne sais pas. Vous seul le savez. Mais il semble que quelque chose ne vous laisse pas tranquille. [I don’t know. Only you know that. But it seems that something won’t leave you alone.]”

He was right, of course. Vincent wasn’t breathing. For a long while, he considered whether to answer at all. Maybe, if the moment stretched long enough, he’d never need to. But then he found words tumbling out of him. “Peut-être que j’aurais juste aimé que cela ne se passe pas ainsi. C’était si soudain et si horrible tout ce qu’il avait fait juste avant – et puis j’ai raté les funérailles et il est parti. C’est… c’est juste un tel choc, c’est tout. [Maybe I just wish it hadn’t happened this way. It was so sudden, and so awful, everything that he did right before - and then I missed the funeral and he’s just gone. It’s…it’s just such a shock, that’s all.]” That wasn’t remotely all it was. And Chidi seemed to know that because he stayed quiet. “Ce n’est pas que je ne le reverrai jamais. Je n’aimais pas le voir. Je ne l’aimais pas… lui. Mais c'était mon père. C'était la seule personne… qui était toujours soit à mes côtés, soit visiblement absente de moi. Généralement ce dernier. [It’s not that I’ll never see him again. I didn’t like seeing him. I didn’t like…him. But he was my father. He was the one person…who was always either at my side or noticeably absent from me. Usually the latter.]”

He paused. Chidi was just listening – listening perfectly. Encouraged, Vincent went on. “Il y avait ma mère, bien sûr. Et elle… [There was my mother, of course. And she…]” he considered whether to say it. “Eh bien, je l'aimais vraiment. Mais c'était il y a si longtemps. J’ai beaucoup réfléchi, ces dernières semaines, au moment de sa mort. C'est comme si tout se reproduisait... [Well, I really did love her. But that was so long ago. I’ve been thinking a lot, over the past few weeks, about when she died. It’s like everything is happening again…]”

“C'était pareil, n'est-ce pas monsieur ? J'ai entendu dire qu'elle avait été assassinée. [It was similar, right sir? I’ve heard that she was assassinated.]”

“Oui. Empoisonné. J'ai vu mon père exécuter le tueur à gages qui l'avait fait. Une décapitation. [Yes. Poisoned. I watched my father execute the hitman who did it. A beheading.]” He said it very calmly, like it was just an ordinary fact. Everything felt distant.

Chidi exhaled. “Tu n'avais pas quatre ans alors? [Weren’t you four years old then?]”

“…Oui.” He could still see his father looming over a bound man encircled by guards at the top of the palace steps, under a surreally blue sky. His sword arm rising. The wind catching his perfect hair in a ripple that happened to shade his eyes for half a moment, while Vincent wondered what he could be feeling, how it was possible to do what he was doing, what exactly he was doing. But it didn’t matter. It was for his mother, and his father could do anything for her. He was a hero. And then there was a sweeping motion that moved the whole world with it, and ended in a spray of awe-inspiring crimson that he would never forget…

“Cela a dû être effrayant. [That must have been frightening.]” Chidi rested a hand over his shoulder and Vincent wished he wouldn’t. It was making him feel so small, like his whole body was shrinking around the lump in his throat that was suddenly so tight. He had to take a deep breath before speaking again.

“Oui… j'avais peur, mais j'étais tellement fière de lui. Je voulais alors être comme lui. Et il m'a dit qu'un jour, je le serais. Et j'ai essayé de l'être. J'ai essayé tout le temps de lui montrer que je pouvais le faire, de l'impressionner, de… le rendre fier. Et maintenant je n'ai jamais – [Yes…I was scared, but I was so proud of him. I wanted to be just like him then. And he told me that one day, I would be. And I tried to be. I tried all the time, to show him I could do it, impress him, to…to make him proud. And now I never - ]” Fuck. No. Don’t think about that. Everything slipped out of his control into a very dark place and he was sobbing into the pillow again. There was a voice coming to him so very softly, and a soft, powerful haven encircling his torso from above, practically laying on top of him.

“Monsieur. Tu l'as fait. Vous êtes un homme meilleur qu’il ne l’a jamais été, à tous points de vue. Je suis fier de toi. Il aurait dû être fier de toi. Et franchement, il aurait dû t’aimer de toute façon. [Sir. You did it. You are a better man than he ever was, by every measure. I am proud of you. He should have been proud of you. And frankly, he should have loved you either way.]”

That last sentence tore at him, both because he could not believe it and because of its implicit acknowledgement that he really had not been loved. But it tore at him the way that pulling out an arrow tears the flesh. There was something in its wake that was raw and hideously painful, yet not ruined. At long last, when he had stopped shaking with tears, he felt...not better. But maybe capable of being better one day. What a gift that was.

He rolled onto his back under Chidi and hugged him back, tracing his fingers idly over mountains of muscle. His hands were tingling from crying and the world felt purer. “Merci. Tu sais que je ne dirais ça à personne d’autre. Pas une. Tu es... [Thank you. You know I wouldn’t say this to anyone else. Not one. You’re…]” What was Chidi exactly? “Vous êtes un très bon auditeur. [You’re a very good listener,]” he finished, though not quite satisfied with the phrase. He could feel Chidi smile against him at the praise.

“Tout ce que je veux, c'est être bon pour vous, monsieur. [All I want is to be good for you, sir.]” Warmth spread through him from the heart outwards, unkillable even in the face of all else he was feeling. Gratitude, to be here in this bed entwined with this sweet man.

He was suddenly aware of the bed beneath them: this bed where they Vincent had taken him so easily a few weeks ago, so thoughtlessly, just because he could, just because he liked how much Chidi wanted him. The past days had slowly taught him not to balk at his own clinginess. Chidi embraced it, urged it even. Searching his face now, Vincent found only a hunger to please, to comfort, something almost terrifyingly protective. He leaned over Vincent in deep concern and kissed him on the lips.

Vincent’s body stirred in answer, for the first time in weeks, and he shifted under the blankets, feeling suddenly restless with need. Chidi had become accustomed to even the slightest change in Vincent’s breathing, and he noticed immediately. “Vous avez besoin de plaisir après si longtemps de pur malheur, maître. [You need some pleasure after so long in pure unhappiness, master.]” That was another habit Chidi had taken up: calling Vincent master in private every now and then. Even “sir” did not seem adequate to describe what he was feeling, he had explained. It sent a wave of delicious sparks down Vincent’s every nerve each time he said it. It felt obscene, scandalous, yet so right.

His fingers laced through Chidi’s and he braced their hands together. Yes. I need something good to happen. I need to feel you against me. I feel like I’ll die without something to live for. But he was choking on the words. All he managed was, “S'il te plaît. [Please.]”

It was enough. Chidi slid under the blanket with him and pressed a hand slowly up the front of his torso like he was smoothing him, ironing him out right into the bed, and then swept his shirt up over his head. Two hands on the way back down, cupping either side of his ribcage, his waist, his hips, and the pajama pants were swept away too. He unwrapped him, exposing his flesh to the soft clouds of silk on all sides that smelled like the both of them, like sadness and desire, and Vincent reclined in front of him, legs spread, arms trailing up above his head and water still sparkling on his lashes. Eyeing Chidi, watching him, daring him to show what he was made of. To rescue Vincent bodily from the clutches of sorrow.

He was malleable, supple, but by no means submissive. No, every ounce of his limp body demanded to be carried relentlessly towards joy. And Chidi rose to the challenge. He kissed him open mouthed as if to share the air between their lungs. He trailed kissed down his collarbone and buried his bulk of a head into Vincent’s neck as if it was too much even to see him this way. Vincent just ruffled his hair in thanks, and sighed, and cuddled their whole bodies together. Their cocks lay warm against each other, pulse to pulse, driving them to move, hump, press closer, thrust harder. Chidi’s wide hips seemed to swallow his own. He arched his back affectionately up into Chidi’s chest and bit his lip, trying not to moan. He squirmed desperately. Just a little more and he would feel good, feel adored, the pain would go away…

Chidi rose up and pinned his hands above his head, suddenly bold. “Maître. Je ne veux pas que tu t'inquiètes de quoi que ce soit. Ne retenez rien. Ne bouge pas. C'est mon travail. Dis-moi juste quoi faire. [Master. I don’t want you to worry about anything. Don’t hold anything back. Don’t move. That’s my job. Just tell me what to do.]”

The first sound he made was a moan torn straight from his soul that made Chidi’s cock twitch against him. And then, blushing fiercely, “…Plus rapide. Grince-moi. Chevauche moi. Je – putain. Je veux sentir même tes os contre les miens. […Faster. Grind on me. Ride me. I – fuck. I want to feel even your bones against mine.]”

A gorgeous, crooked, obliging smile. “Oui, Maître.”

And then the world faded. There was only the hot, urgent, ecstatic hollow of heat where a tautness was slowly building, clenched between his hips. Every time he needed more, Vincent cried out in a soft, breathless whine and Chidi responded until vigorous, steady thrusts were driving him right into the mattress and making him see stars. He felt dizzy from gasping. Chidi kissed him again. “Respirez pour moi, maître. [Breathe for me, master.]”

“Ah… pour toi, n'importe quoi. [Ah…for you, anything.]” He didn’t mean that. Did he? Well, he would have to decide another time. For now, that wonderfully taut thing at the base of his stomach was finally on the point of snapping, and he was incapable of thought or speech while it burst out and overwhelmed even the soul-deep misery for half an instant.

In the next second, that misery was back, but Chidi was still with him, kissing his cheeks, holding him, spilling over him in a sweetness that followed his own – never far behind him. There was the sorrow, yes, but there was the joy beside it.

Panting, Chidi looked up at the window. “La pluie s'est calmée pour l'instant, monsieur. [The rain has cleared up for now, sir.]”

“Allons marcher. [Let’s go walking.]”

◃ Back ⚜ Next ▹

Image Sources: 1 2

[spurgie-cousin]

listen i have so much sympathy for anyone experiencing anything mental health related, but i feel like i need to pull back on giving advice for things i have not fully conquered myself and numero uno on that list is definitely anxiety/OCD

i had my psych/therapist appointment friday and brought up the line of thinking i posted about a couple days ago (that countingonmama had a great response to which shifted my thinking) and i was literally prescribed a new medication because of it, which my doctor does not do lightly at all. it's temporary but it's literally to bring down my blood pressure bc i have such physical reactions to my morality/catastrophizing OCD esp regarding things like Palestine, like the strategy is to revisit it after i manually turn off my fight or flight.

so truly my best advice is if you even sort of think you have anxiety or OCD behaviors that are interfering with your life, seek professional help (I am super open to helping ppl find that btw). A few months ago I thought I just some OCD tendencies that have no affect on me, cut to two days ago, I've learned it's actually affecting my blood pressure, like it truly never hurts to just check on things like that.

[himeprincessa]

Supplements and Vitamins to start your year RIGHT! 💖

Warning: Make sure that the supplements you are taking do not counteract as this could lead them to be ineffective or even dangerous. Vitamins that interact tend to need to be space out by four hours.

Morning

Iron: It is really common for young adults (especially those who are living on their own for the first time) to develop iron deficiency. Common symptoms are dizziness, a fast heart rate or brittle nails. If you have these symptoms check in with your doctor as taking too much iron can make you sick as well. If you are iron deficienct but don't have full blown anemia, you can take multivitamins that contain iron. These will help boost your levels and keep you full of energy.

Allergy pills: TAKE ALLERGY MEDICINE!!! Especially if you live in an urban environment that contains a lot of trees that produce pollen. It is not normal to be sniffling, coughing and feeling fatigued just from natural air. Generic works just as well as name brand.

Allergy Nasal Spray: If you are like me and your allergies are more extreme, I recommend a nasal spray. These can be prescribed by your doctor or bought over the counter.

Lunch

Multivitamins: If you take nothing else, make sure to take a multivitamin! They contain the majority of vitamins we need everyday to function. So if you're feeling tired even after sleeping a lot, it might be that you're not getting the essential nutrients you need. This can lead to acne, fatigue generally making your body weaker. Make sure to look at the label to see how much daily percentage the bottle you chose has.

Probiotic: One of the most important parts of our body is our gut. It affects our mental health and functioning of our physical bodies. Probiotics help introduce good bacteria into our stomachs as it's needed to keep it healthy. Probiotics can also be found in drinks like kombucha.

B-12: This vitamin helps so much with energy! I started taking 500 mcg but I felt it wasn't enough so now I'm taking 1,000. It's always good to start with a lower dose of any vitamin to see how you react to it.

Biotin: We all know how beneficial biotin is for looking good. It helps strengthen your nails, hair and skin.

Dinner

Calcium: This vitamin helps strengthen your teeth and bones. It's typically considered a supplement you start taking as you're older but by then it's already too late in a sense. I also recommend taking the magnesium zinc version. On top of these two being good for you, they help the calcium absorb so much better.

Fiber: OK I just ran out lol so here's a stock photo. Because most modern food is so processed we typically do not get enough fiber in our diet. Fiber is so important to keep our digestive system running. Adding 5 grams of fiber can make such a difference.

Optional

Saw Palmetto: If you have issues from hair loss like me, anemia is so awful, this can help a lot. Depending on your body, it can either help stop the thinning or even help regrow it. However this is a herbal remedy that can affect your hormones. Thus, it can cause mental health reactions and should be used with caution if you struggle with it.

Get Lit: This I bought on a whim from the Sephora sale! It is meant to help with both skin issues and your mood. It's the type of supplement where you dissolve it into water.

[britishalien12]

Something that struck me about Season 4 of The Umbrella Academy is just how distant and separate the various character storylines feel.

All of the characters (even the ones that are paired up) feel so lonely throughout and the big event at the end of the season that normally brings the gang back together has that feeling of loneliness persist where it all feels too little too late and so why bother.

I know that the ending and overall message(?) of the series has received a lot of criticism and I certainly class prescribe to a lot of that criticism.

For me, the series is about how family (whether biological, adoptive, chosen, found etc) is able to confront challenges, embrace differences and triumph over trauma.

In each previous season, you have the characters set off on their own paths (ie: Five trying to prevent the end of the world/Luther trying to solve his father's 'murder' when no one else cares/Vanya pursuing life with Leonard and the orchestra/Diego and Patch etc), being split up (finding themselves alone in different years from the start of Season 2 and not running into one another until Five shows up) or trying to find purpose in a world where they/their recent raison d'etre has been replaced/erased or resolved (The very presence of the Sparrow Academy/Allison's family outside of the Umbrella's being written out of time/Ben moving on at the end of season two and how this affects Klaus etc).

But in the end, each series has them all come back together where they succeed whether they mean to or not (looking at you season 3 😁)

Season 4 isolates the family members from the beginning, both physically and emotionally, whether that's Ben going to prison, Luther living in the remains of the Academy, Diego working a 'day to day' job while dreaming of working for the C.I.A, his life not matching up to what he foresaw when he dreamed about having family of his own.

But where the other seasons have the character goals cross over and join up to move towards their ultimate conclusion, Season 4 feels like you could take characters out of the series and you just wouldn't notice they were gone. The idea that the outcome is inevitable in a show like The Umbrella Academy that shines because of the strength of its cast of characters just sets the series up for failure or at the very least disappointment.

None of the character story lines that show their individual journey in this season, like Diego and the CIA, Klaus being sober and what happens when that is taken from him, Viktor's weird road trip with Reggie, ultimately affects the final outcome.

In previous seasons, individual character storylines are wrapped around one another and inextricably linked no matter how much distance (whether spatially or temporally) is put between them before being bound by their actions and the reasons for them.

Season 4 ends with the Hargreeves family together but this time there is no relief or celebration or walking away. They die together but very much alone.

[cbk1000]

Also, re: that terrible doctor (because my last appointment was so horrible and useless I can't fit all my complaints into one post), the cardiologist gave me some calcium channel blockers to help with high heart rate, but I stopped taking them because they didn't seem to be helping, they caused really bad fatigue, and also I'm worried about dropping my blood pressure if I take them long-term. My blood pressure has always been basically ideal during all of this, and I don't want to lower it too much because that will also cause issues.

So I mentioned this to my doctor, and that I had read there were beta blockers that were more targeted and would affect my heart rate but not my blood pressure as much; is that so, and if so, maybe it would be worth trying one of those while I get this all under control. He says, yes, there are more targeted beta blockers. Ok, cool, because I'm worried about the calcium channel blockers lowering my blood pressure too much. Him: Yes, your blood pressure would be a concern. Me: Ok, so is there a beta blocker I can try that wouldn't affect my blood pressure as much? Him: Reeee shots.

I never did get an answer out of him about whether I should try a different med.

Then he tells me he just wonders whether this is going to get worse, and I look right at him and remind him that I have told him, multiple times, across multiple appointments, that I have been improving, that several weeks ago I felt like I was dying, and now I can get out of bed quite a bit more and don't feel nearly as bad. But as I'm still mostly bedridden, and have been for three months now, could we please just try a small iron infusion and see if that helps speed up my recovery. I kind of want to, you know, go back to my life and job. He tells me if he's right about chronic fatigue and POTS, I'm going to be stuck like this for a long time. I have read a bit on both and am aware they are chronic conditions, but they are also managed through medication and physical therapy. I say, 'Yeah, but there are ways to manage those conditions.' (Btw, beta blockers are a common treatment for POTS.) He's told me I have two different chronic conditions caused by the Covid vaccine and given me no hope of any treatment and pretty much implied I am going to keep deteriorating and I am just going to have to wait for the neurologist to confirm, so I'm trying to prompt him into at least offering useful advice. He completely ignores me when I say there are ways to manage those conditions, does not reassure me at all, just starts in on Congress investigations or the doctor being 'persecuted' for inappropriately prescribing Ivermectin or whichever part of his rant he was on at that point.

He also actually DID admit at one point that low iron could be 'a component' of all this, but has no interest in treating it.

Also, why do these anti-vaxx people ride Ivermectin's dick so hard? Because Trump mentioned using it to treat Covid? This doctor has mentioned that he personally takes Ivermectin at almost every single appointment. Ok?? Take an anti-parasitic multiple times a week if you want, that's your business, what do you want me to say? Do you want me to ask for my own dose of worming medication so I can detox from the shot or whatever the hell you think Ivermectin does?

[mega-ringsandthings-world]

I know we’ve talked about this via messages, but I wanted to ask again about health issues (mental aside) they’ll have to deal with from being tortured for two and a half years straight.

Not just that, but also the scars they accumulate—do those cause issues? Is part of their bedtime routine putting on scar cream so the skin can move less stiffly through out that day? Is it a ritual every night that they try to perform without fail? Does Mihawk let Shanks get his back? Does Shanks let Mihawk treat his Haki burns?

Are some of their joints messed up from being dislocated so many times? Do they hate cold weather and winter islands most of all? Can they feel an oncoming storm or the weather patterns just from the aches in old broken bones?

Are some days so bad for Mihawk's hands, which are scarred and broken to hell and back, that his fingers just shake all day? Does Shanks get crippling migraines from all the times he was punched in the head?

Do they take medication? For the pain or for their mental illnesses? Now I’m just imagining them dragging themselves miserably to Drum Island for a checkup to make sure nothing’s going to kill them physically or have long-term effects from their captivity, and Dr. Kureha just taking one look at these two miserable kids absolutely riddled with PTSD and going, "Okay, whack that shit out," and prescribing them Lexapro.

Not to mention the stress probably rewired their brains, and the brain damage from getting beaten around so many times. What about their immune systems? High stress and lack of proper nutrition can mess that up forever. Oh, and weight gain is going to be different as well as bone density and muscle loss. They are going to be a mess.

There's also the grief that comes with the loss of bodily autonomy in this way. They had a bright future and young, healthy bodies that have been traumatized. Now, not only will they live with the mental scarring but also the physical scarring that will affect them in fights, breathing, or just being for the rest of their lives. Think of Mihawk just staring at himself in the mirror, grieving the health he had before, how he's scared he’ll never be the world's greatest swordsman, that they taken that away from him like so much else. Think of Shanks crying over the thought he might not get to explore the world because of his migraines.

But at least they have each other! Hopefully, they also learn to lean on each other when shit gets bad and take up accommodations for their issue. I don't know; Mihawk is headstrong but more about efficiency, and if wearing a brace or taking a certain med means he'd be at his peak, then I can see this Mihawk swallowing his pride and doing it. Shanks, on the other hand... I don't know, maybe?

Ooh, more logistics. Bodily logistics, that it. The severest issues come from the initial healing process, like the scar on Mihawk's leg which keeps him bedridden for months. When they heal, it falls to the people who are treating them to maintain continuing treatment for the scars that are left, because they won't be in a fit state to do that at first. But yeah, they get into a routine of care for themselves as they get better mentally, Mihawk especially. And while he wouldn't let Shanks near the scars on his back for quite a while, he'd insist on treating Shanks. The Haki burns are going to be something he's guilty about, naturally. Hm, Shanks' left arm was fractured at the elbow and the burns on Mihawk's knuckles would have damaged the tendons there, and they both have dislocated a shoulder/wrist/rib/knee numerous times. Cold weather/pressure drops/high humidity all exacerbate injuries, so yeah, they'd avoid all of those if it could be helped. Shanks spends a lot of time slumming on beaches for that very reason. Mihawk would probably like cold better than he does heat, so his preferred basking spot is Kuraigana, which was picked for its atmosphere. Yes to them sensing storms. Shanks in particular actually finds that useful. So, dislocated wrists, damage to the nerves/tendons from the burns on Mihawk's knuckles would cause tremors even if his hands were never broken outright, and those mixed with stress/anxiety/sleep depravation can get nasty. Shanks develops migraines due to the head trauma, that come in varying levels of severity. Suffice to say, there's days when neither of them are in any state to do any daily tasks, or much of anything. (they still push themselves to, though) Pain meds, mostly, Mihawk self-medicates on Haki, Shanks alcohol. Sedatives in the early days, when they need to be calmed down. They do get taken to Drum Island at some point, and they'll get a cocktail that takes them off the edge. More on that later. (Kureha would have stock of Lexapro somewhere lol) Speaking of which, they might need short-term anxiety medication and help mitigating (they won't go away) the stress responses they've developed. They amount of head trauma would probably mean permanent damage in real life, but memory issues here, probably. They're kept marginally well-fed, seeing as how they need to be kept alive, and they get enough that their growth isn't stunted to the extreme, but it's not the nutrition that's up to par for two-young men. They'll grow up leaner, having to work to put on muscle definition. Their on and off EDs don't help, and neither does getting sick more frequently until their immune systems regain full health. It looks hopeless to them at the very start of their recovery. Looking into the mirror at every flaw and bleeding wound, feeling utterly weak in every cell, it'll be hard for them to imagine returning to even a shadow of their former selves, let alone advancing past that. Which brings it's own mental issues, of course. And the horror of having to be so weak in front of each other. Which makes them reluctant to have a hand on each other's recovery, at least up until the need to be with each other takes over. After a while Mihawk treats the accommodations he needs as just another thing he needs to do to stay on top, like exercising, doing sword drills, sparring. In canon Mihawk obviously takes care of himself and it's the same here (mostly). He adds it (braces, pain meds, exercises) into his meticulous routine and that's that. Shanks, on the other hand, tends to lean more towards curing the issue than preventing the issue, he'll wait until something can't be ignored to do something about it, out of his own pride. And then it's fuck it we ball and washing down pain meds with liquor, which always gets Mihawk pissed at him.

[psykoticrefuge]

DIY

Content warning: discussion of biohacking and both medical and slang terminology of sensitive areas

<--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><-->

Not only do I like to science stuff, the PDA (persistent need for autonomy <or> pathological demand avoidance) tism type brain is a big, do it yourself kinda vibe. And as such I've ordered some progesterone cream to stimulate breast growth.

You wanna science along? Come with.

Background stats:

9 months HRT

8 of which was sublingual estradiol 2mg thrice daily (if you remember a previous post I had extra and was taking 4 pills a day and felt amazing)

Spironolactone 50mg twice a day

3 weeks in on depo estradiol injections

First week: 0.3ml/5mg and the last day was BRUTAL

Past two weeks: 0.4ml/5mg and feeling good

I do have an endo prescribing Spiro and E but reluctant to do prog yet

Cis women in immediate blood family and extended are typically gifted in the bewb department

Currently a tanner 3 tanner 4 cusp, unknown cup and band size

I've used the cream two days now and let's talk turkey:

I ordered the cream from Amazon and it's bio identical progesterone from yams. Smells great. Bottle says to use one pump (1.3g of cream) once or twice a day on soft skin areas. I started the same day as shot day and I'm applying the cream evenly between both breasts twice a day. The bottle also says to cycle it depending on menopausal or not. No instructions for trans folk. I'm doing this off of research and anecdotal evidence.

Today was a rough mental health day, combined with a rough physical pain day. Unsure if mood affected by introduction of new hormone. Over the last 3 weeks day 2-4 after injection are usually higher days. But also it's a very heavy time to be trans so again, can't make pure judgement call on mood effects. The nipples are more sensitive, like I can feel subtle movements of my top while I breathe. I'm prone to headaches and there is a listed migraine warning but so far no worries in that department. I probably won't post updates daily but will keep track of progress and write about it.

[lets-donate-a-kidney]

Reasons Why You Might NOT donate a kidney

Your medication requirements aren't compatible

After donating a kidney, you may have to change the medication you take to minimize stress on the remaining kidney. For instance, all kidney donors are supposed to avoid NSAIDs like ibuprofen, Aleve and aspirin, and to take Tylenol (acetaminophen) instead. You may also have other medications (including psychiatric meds) that would need to be changed.

If you aren't able to take Tylenol or find substitutes for other medications, it may be worth thinking long and hard about whether donation is right for you. Your physician and psychiatrist will be able to give you more information if needed.

You're scared of needles or blood

You will get your blood drawn a lot in the process of donating an organ, and may also get an IV drip after surgery.

You're nervous about surgery

That's valid! All surgeries and anesthesia do carry risks. The risk of long-term complications from donating a kidney is very low, but it's your body and your choice, period.

Your family has a history of kidney disease, or you already have just one kidney.

Some people are born with only one! Or if you think there's a good chance you'll need two, it's totally rational not to donate one.

You've had issues with painkiller addiction in the past

After surgery, you may have a morphine or fentanyl drip in the hospital, and you're likely to be prescribed an opioid painkiller. The amount of painkillers is normally not enough to create a physical dependency. But for some people in addiction recovery, this may still be concerning.

If this worries you, I highly recommend discussing this topic with your physician and the surgeon, and following their advice. Medical professionals in the USA cannot report you to law enforcement for using illegal substances.

Any other medical conditions that make you a bad candidate

Your own health is important, and it might also affect whether your kidney would be viable in someone else's body.

You'll get scanned to hell and back during the screening process, so if there's any medical issues that would get in the way, the transplant team will tell you. They will NOT remove your kidney if they believe the surgery or loss of the kidney could harm your health later.

You want to make a connection with someone

Yeah...don't go into this process expecting it to change your life, or win you lots of praise, or hoping to meet the recipient (if you donate to a stranger like I did). What if your recipient turns out to be someone you don't like? What if you stay in touch but the kidney fails after a few years? What if you were hoping to feel better about yourself, but a month after surgery you realize you're still the same old you?

(Personally, I do feel like it changed my life for the better, and some people do form strong relationships with their recipient after the transplant. But people can have a lot of different reactions. Nothing is guaranteed.)

I chose not to contact or receive contact from my recipient, or to hear follow-up reports of how they were doing. I didn't want them to feel indebted to me, or for me to unwittingly place expectations on them. You might choose differently, which is valid - but make sure you'd be okay with not ever hearing from the recipient, too.

You can't afford it

This isn't always a hurdle. If you donate through the National Kidney Registry, for instance, they'll try to compensate you for any lost wages during your surgery and recovery period. You won't bear the cost of surgery or follow-up appointments, either. At least, that's how it is in the USA.

However, I did have to take time off work to go to the pre-surgery appointments. I did have to buy extra groceries for before and after the surgery, an abdominal binder and robe, and a few other costs. If I get medical complications later in life, I will have to pay for those either out of pocket or with health insurance. These may still be serious considerations for you.

You can't take enough time off to recover

My surgery team recommended two weeks off work - even though I work from home. They also wanted me to have someone present to drive me to and from the hospital, and to stay with me for the first few days after surgery. Your own job, childcare needs, or transportation/living assistance needs may impact your ability to do this.

You just plain don't want to

As I said, it's your body, your choice. You never, ever have to undergo surgery and give away part of your body for someone else. Even if you love that person and they're in pain. A donated organ should be a gift given freely, and gladly, not a source of fear or worry for you.

If you aren't able or willing to donate yourself, there are still many ways you can help people in need:

You could donate blood or plasma, which regenerate over time and don't require surgery.

You could help a prospective kidney donor by offering childcare while they're in the hospital, transportation assistance, or helping them recover after surgery.

You could register as an organ donor on death, so that your body isn't affected at all while you're alive. In the USA, only 60% of adults are registered as organ donors even though 90% support postmortem organ donation.

You can spread awareness of how organ donation works! Many people don't realize that they can donate a kidney, even without an intended recipient. Or they might believe it's more dangerous or debilitating than it actually is. By sharing educational resources about it, you can still increase the likelihood of more patients getting kidneys.

[ayliffe]

not that google will straight up lie to you or anything but i just spent like five minutes searching for whether it's safe to drink on the new medication i've been prescribed. as far as i could tell, bnf said nothing (which tbf should have given me my answer right there but i wasn't sure if i'd somehow missed it). top links on google were rehab sites going "you mustn't drink while on it!!!!" without sources. every actual paper i've found on it says alcohol has literally no interaction with it. like, the question of whether it's a good idea in general to drink/use substances while depressed is a very different one from "will drinking while on this medication affect its efficacy or indeed physically endanger me" and i'm not thrilled that the top results implicitly conflate the two.