#rebounder exercises

[safetyall]

BCAN 40/48" Foldable Mini Trampoline Max Load 330lbs/440lbs, Fitness Rebounder with Adjustable Foam Handle, Exercise Trampoline for Adults Indoor/Garden Workout.

[blumin-reblogs]

So I struggle to find physical exercises that I enjoy enough to stick with, but I've always enjoyed jumping on trampolines as a kid and decided to get a mini indoor one. I got it, and it's great. Don't get me wrong, it's so fun, and everyone that comes over has fun jumping on it.

But you have to understand that my legs are fucked. I've walked on my tip toes since I learned how to walk, and I guess doing that for 24 years straight will like rewire the internal mechanisms that make your legs do what they're supposed to. Like my physical therapist wants to get x-rays of my legs to see what exactly is making it difficult for my legs to function like they should.

Essentially, my legs are flexed when my foot is flat, and my toes being pointed it my default. This means keeping my heel down while lifting my toes is extremely difficult if not entirely impossible in instances. Walking up (steep) hill(s) feels like my lower half is engulfed in flames.

Rebounding is supposed to be super good for those who are struggling with joint pain, so the elderly and heavier people can greatly benefit, but whatever I inadvertently did to my legs has made this relatively fun and easy exercise like torture, I can barely (very lightly) bounce for a minute before my legs are in so much pain that I need to tap out.

I imagine if it's causing that much of an intense reaction for the muscle that it's probably good for my legs and whatever they might call this condition, but it's so frustrating being unable to keep up when I'm following along with senior rebounding videos :(

My leg issues have very likely also caused my hips to be very weak, or the weakness in the hips led to the toe walking, but that's unlikely.

My calves are incredibly strong and powerful, but at what cost. Their beefyness has led to two separate people last year saying that I have "man legs", one person was my mother :/

[fatliberation]

they have a point though. you wouldn't need everyone to accommodate you if you just lost weight, but you're too lazy to stick to a healthy diet and exercise. it's that simple. I'd like to see you back up your claims, but you have no proof. you have got to stop lying to yourselves and face the facts

Must I go through this again? Fine. FINE. You guys are working my nerves today. You want to talk about facing the facts? Let's face the fucking facts.

In 2022, the US market cap of the weight loss industry was $75 billion [1, 3]. In 2021, the global market cap of the weight loss industry was estimated at $224.27 billion [2]. 

In 2020, the market shrunk by about 25%, but rebounded and then some since then [1, 3] By 2030, the global weight loss industry is expected to be valued at $405.4 billion [2]. If diets really worked, this industry would fall overnight. 

1. LaRosa, J. March 10, 2022. "U.S. Weight Loss Market Shrinks by 25% in 2020 with Pandemic, but Rebounds in 2021." Market Research Blog. 2. Staff. February 09, 2023. "[Latest] Global Weight Loss and Weight Management Market Size/Share Worth." Facts and Factors Research. 3. LaRosa, J. March 27, 2023. "U.S. Weight Loss Market Partially Recovers from the Pandemic." Market Research Blog.

Over 50 years of research conclusively demonstrates that virtually everyone who intentionally loses weight by manipulating their eating and exercise habits will regain the weight they lost within 3-5 years. And 75% will actually regain more weight than they lost [4].

4. Mann, T., Tomiyama, A.J., Westling, E., Lew, A.M., Samuels, B., Chatman, J. (2007). "Medicare’s Search For Effective Obesity Treatments: Diets Are Not The Answer." The American Psychologist, 62, 220-233. U.S. National Library of Medicine, Apr. 2007.

The annual odds of a fat person attaining a so-called “normal” weight and maintaining that for 5 years is approximately 1 in 1000 [5].

5. Fildes, A., Charlton, J., Rudisill, C., Littlejohns, P., Prevost, A.T., & Gulliford, M.C. (2015). “Probability of an Obese Person Attaining Normal Body Weight: Cohort Study Using Electronic Health Records.” American Journal of Public Health, July 16, 2015: e1–e6.

Doctors became so desperate that they resorted to amputating parts of the digestive tract (bariatric surgery) in the hopes that it might finally result in long-term weight-loss. Except that doesn’t work either. [6] And it turns out it causes death [7],  addiction [8], malnutrition [9], and suicide [7].

6. Magro, Daniéla Oliviera, et al. “Long-Term Weight Regain after Gastric Bypass: A 5-Year Prospective Study - Obesity Surgery.” SpringerLink, 8 Apr. 2008. 7. Omalu, Bennet I, et al. “Death Rates and Causes of Death After Bariatric Surgery for Pennsylvania Residents, 1995 to 2004.” Jama Network, 1 Oct. 2007.  8. King, Wendy C., et al. “Prevalence of Alcohol Use Disorders Before and After Bariatric Surgery.” Jama Network, 20 June 2012.  9. Gletsu-Miller, Nana, and Breanne N. Wright. “Mineral Malnutrition Following Bariatric Surgery.” Advances In Nutrition: An International Review Journal, Sept. 2013.

Evidence suggests that repeatedly losing and gaining weight is linked to cardiovascular disease, stroke, diabetes and altered immune function [10].

10. Tomiyama, A Janet, et al. “Long‐term Effects of Dieting: Is Weight Loss Related to Health?” Social and Personality Psychology Compass, 6 July 2017.

Prescribed weight loss is the leading predictor of eating disorders [11].

11. Patton, GC, et al. “Onset of Adolescent Eating Disorders: Population Based Cohort Study over 3 Years.” BMJ (Clinical Research Ed.), 20 Mar. 1999.

The idea that “obesity” is unhealthy and can cause or exacerbate illnesses is a biased misrepresentation of the scientific literature that is informed more by bigotry than credible science [12]. 

12. Medvedyuk, Stella, et al. “Ideology, Obesity and the Social Determinants of Health: A Critical Analysis of the Obesity and Health Relationship” Taylor & Francis Online, 7 June 2017.

“Obesity” has no proven causative role in the onset of any chronic condition [13, 14] and its appearance may be a protective response to the onset of numerous chronic conditions generated from currently unknown causes [15, 16, 17, 18].

13. Kahn, BB, and JS Flier. “Obesity and Insulin Resistance.” The Journal of Clinical Investigation, Aug. 2000. 14. Cofield, Stacey S, et al. “Use of Causal Language in Observational Studies of Obesity and Nutrition.” Obesity Facts, 3 Dec. 2010.  15. Lavie, Carl J, et al. “Obesity and Cardiovascular Disease: Risk Factor, Paradox, and Impact of Weight Loss.” Journal of the American College of Cardiology, 26 May 2009.  16. Uretsky, Seth, et al. “Obesity Paradox in Patients with Hypertension and Coronary Artery Disease.” The American Journal of Medicine, Oct. 2007.  17. Mullen, John T, et al. “The Obesity Paradox: Body Mass Index and Outcomes in Patients Undergoing Nonbariatric General Surgery.” Annals of Surgery, July 2005. 18. Tseng, Chin-Hsiao. “Obesity Paradox: Differential Effects on Cancer and Noncancer Mortality in Patients with Type 2 Diabetes Mellitus.” Atherosclerosis, Jan. 2013.

Fatness was associated with only 1/3 the associated deaths that previous research estimated and being “overweight” conferred no increased risk at all, and may even be a protective factor against all-causes mortality relative to lower weight categories [19].

19. Flegal, Katherine M. “The Obesity Wars and the Education of a Researcher: A Personal Account.” Progress in Cardiovascular Diseases, 15 June 2021.

Studies have observed that about 30% of so-called “normal weight” people are “unhealthy” whereas about 50% of so-called “overweight” people are “healthy”. Thus, using the BMI as an indicator of health results in the misclassification of some 75 million people in the United States alone [20]. 

20. Rey-López, JP, et al. “The Prevalence of Metabolically Healthy Obesity: A Systematic Review and Critical Evaluation of the Definitions Used.” Obesity Reviews : An Official Journal of the International Association for the Study of Obesity, 15 Oct. 2014.

While epidemiologists use BMI to calculate national obesity rates (nearly 35% for adults and 18% for kids), the distinctions can be arbitrary. In 1998, the National Institutes of Health lowered the overweight threshold from 27.8 to 25—branding roughly 29 million Americans as fat overnight—to match international guidelines. But critics noted that those guidelines were drafted in part by the International Obesity Task Force, whose two principal funders were companies making weight loss drugs [21].

21. Butler, Kiera. “Why BMI Is a Big Fat Scam.” Mother Jones, 25 Aug. 2014. 

Body size is largely determined by genetics [22].

22. Wardle, J. Carnell, C. Haworth, R. Plomin. “Evidence for a strong genetic influence on childhood adiposity despite the force of the obesogenic environment” American Journal of Clinical Nutrition Vol. 87, No. 2, Pages 398-404, February 2008.

Healthy lifestyle habits are associated with a significant decrease in mortality regardless of baseline body mass index [23].  

23. Matheson, Eric M, et al. “Healthy Lifestyle Habits and Mortality in Overweight and Obese Individuals.” Journal of the American Board of Family Medicine : JABFM, U.S. National Library of Medicine, 25 Feb. 2012.

Weight stigma itself is deadly. Research shows that weight-based discrimination increases risk of death by 60% [24].

24. Sutin, Angela R., et al. “Weight Discrimination and Risk of Mortality .” Association for Psychological Science, 25 Sept. 2015.

Fat stigma in the medical establishment [25] and society at large arguably [26] kills more fat people than fat does [27, 28, 29].

25. Puhl, Rebecca, and Kelly D. Bronwell. “Bias, Discrimination, and Obesity.” Obesity Research, 6 Sept. 2012. 26. Engber, Daniel. “Glutton Intolerance: What If a War on Obesity Only Makes the Problem Worse?” Slate, 5 Oct. 2009.  27. Teachman, B. A., Gapinski, K. D., Brownell, K. D., Rawlins, M., & Jeyaram, S. (2003). Demonstrations of implicit anti-fat bias: The impact of providing causal information and evoking empathy. Health Psychology, 22(1), 68–78. 28. Chastain, Ragen. “So My Doctor Tried to Kill Me.” Dances With Fat, 15 Dec. 2009. 29. Sutin, Angelina R, Yannick Stephan, and Antonio Terraciano. “Weight Discrimination and Risk of Mortality.” Psychological Science, 26 Nov. 2015.

There's my "proof." Where is yours?

[eatmangoesnekkid]

When you exercise in different ways or do many different kinds of movements like stretching, jumping, picking up logs, walking, dance, inverting, ass shaking, neck rolling, throat opening, crawling, rebounding, etc., you develop a more supreme body overtime that is more fluid and patient, and not so easily reactive and triggered. You can be in a crowded nosy place like an airport and feel deep peace and love flow through you. You can experience painful, hard times and feel beautiful and radiant alongside them. When your body is open, you experience less anxiety or panic attacks about the future or this world. You are more relaxed and life encounters you with more relaxation. -India Ame'ye, Author

[purble-turble]

actually, you know what would be interesting and funny you brought up the whole rebounding thing but like... what if that situation happens completely by the others (including Redson and his echo chamber friends) jumping to conclusions and planting that seed of an idea in the two heads. Mk is naturally very affectionate, physical touch is a big part of his love language. he grew up alongside mei who was just as physical and no one actually encouraged them not to be. snuggling/hugging/kissing(like quick head and cheek pecks) your homies is very normalized. he's also dealing with family and friend issues because things are really tense and he's feeling everything at a 10 right know. its not just Red he can't talk too, he can even talk to Mei as comfortably and maybe lately feels like she avoiding him in favor of prioritizing Red.

Nezha. that boy is just starved of affection both verbal and physical. period. yeah its a bit overwhelming and confusing for him at first but after he gets used to mk's love language it's like 'Oh, hey this is really nice...huh...can i do this too?' and the answer was yes of course! he slowly starts implementing little touches here and there, initiating the hugs. it's still a bit awkward for him so he ends up utilizing other forms of love language, but the effort is there and mk is ecstatic. but it starts to make the other side-eye the situation. everyone (especially tang) was on board at first cause like....its a legendary celestial warrior, he's shown to be reliable and mature and so on. surly this could only be a good influence for mk. and yeah at first they only see good things, mk seems to get a little better over time, he's even getting extra exercise training like meditation, yoga/Tai chi. stuff that is supposed to support mental and physical wellness so of course Nezha must be good! Pigsy is the first to notice that maybe there starting to get a little too close, starts drawing parallels to how mk acted with Red. he brings it up with the others. tang isn't bothered and mei isn't either at first but now that idea is in her head, and it grows over time and now shes getting suspisiou as pigsy. and maybe a little pissed. nezha and mk of course havn'ty actually thought of each other like that, there just friends for god sake! he hasn't done anything with nezha that hes already done with mei. but mk gets confronted eventually and of course, tells Nezha after the fact. they both agree everyone's being ridiculous, they are just really close friends! but internally there both secretly like '....but what if?....' Red's group of friends are just shit starters, gold medalists when it comes to jumping to conclusions, especially regarding mk. they see monkey boy chatting up and getting close with another prince and run wild with ideas they of course share with Red. they see them being physically affectionate or hear something even vaguely suggestive they are not gonna look or ask for context. hell you can give them the full context they still cherry-pick it apart like the Christian bible. anything to make Mk look as horrible as they believe he is.

Yooooo I am vibrating in my seat right now i fuckin loooove this!! 💖

You’re so right about MK’s fam thinking that Nezha will be a good influence on him at the start of things.. they have no idea that Nezha approves of the attempted sacrifice MK made at the pillar. I mean, it’s a sore spot for all of them, so it’s likely just not brought up in casual settings. The first time they catch a glimpse of it is probably a tense moment where someone tried to point out to MK that he was taking on too much again and exhausting himself.. but instead of getting a bit sheepish saying he’ll take better care of himself like he might have done before, he stands firm and is like ‘No, I can handle this! These are my problems and I’m going to handle them.’ And Nezha is spotted in the background with a lil smile and an agreeing nod and… ok. That’s weird.

As for the romantic aspect of it, them being a little oblivious about their budding romantic feelings at first and having to have it pointed out by the others how close they’ve gotten is sooooo good! I’m always a sucker for oblivious MK, but I can fully see Nezha being exactly like that too.

Mei for sure shares with Prince Red that she thinks MK has gotten weirdly close to Nezha lately.. and Red has already noticed that MK has been coming by to try to win him back less and less… could it be he’s really been replaced that easily? It’s… kind of hard to think MK would move on so quickly, especially because he is probably still struggling with it. Maybe he even goes to check it out for himself and spots MK and Nezha out together on a stroll. And look, MK is holding hands with the lotus prince and… oh. kisses his cheek… that’s… pretty hard to not interpret as romantic.

Even if Red knows MK and a little niggling doubt in the back of his mind can be like ‘well, he’s like that with Mei too so maybe???’ If he’s already primed to be looking for it by Mei (and also his own already hurt feelings) then this would be pretty clear confirmation of his fear that MK has moved on and is romantically involved with Nezha now. Also yeah it for sure doesn’t help that all Prince Red’s friends are gonna add fuel to this fire once he tells them about it, just like you said. They never thought MK was good enough for Red, so why would they put it past him to move on from him really fast too?

Haha, anyway, once MK’s fam start asking more pointed questions about their relationship, MK and Nezha might even have a frank discussion about it. They’re more open with each other than they are with anybody else, after all, since there’s no fear of judgement or moralizing from sharing how they actually feel. In any case, even if they can’t manage to have the straight up discussion, the displays of affection definitely get more frequent on both ends and things progress that way regardless~

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 118 (The Calm Before)

Life continued for Heather and Conrad after their eventful trip to the city. Conrad couldn't be the one to canvas his old apartment building in San Myshuno, but he made arrangements with his partner, Detective Spangler, before he, Heather, and Ash had even returned to Brindleton Bay.

He believed they would find Ximena there, but they had to be discreet, and his team worked with San Myshuno PD to watch the Arts Quarter and confirm their suspicions.

They felt life at home might soon return to normal, so Heather started to think about that wedding and kept up her workouts. Spring would come soon enough, and she'd be able to go for jogs with Gord once the weather warmed, too. Gord couldn't wait for that, either.

Conrad would be able to turn his focus to Rafa and George Brindleton without the threat of Ximena breathing down their necks. While officers worked behind the scenes, the Nesbitt-Gordon household buzzed with contentment.

With the family always happy to see him, River paid a visit to talk with Hazel about her break up. Heather wanted to help, but she had to admit to herself that she was disappointed in Hazel for cheating.

Only 'Old Man River' could find the right words to express disappointment without a hint of judgment, and when he walked into the bedroom, Heather got up to make herself scarce.

River glanced at his younger sister with concern. He could see she was beating herself up and wanted to hear her side of things.

"Why didn't you leave your wife before you called Suri again?"

"I think a part of me wanted to hurt Nicola for how she treated me," admitted Hazel. "I know how terrible that is, but she made me dread coming home some nights, and we kept talking about trying to make it work, but we never did. She was too high maintenance and trying to meet her needs was costing my sanity. I think, more than anything, I was just mad at her, but I feel sick about how much I hurt her. I left town, but she's stuck there trying not to hear everyone whispering about her."

"I wouldn't worry about Nic," River said. "I ran into her mother at the Crumpleclones' flower stall yesterday. She took a sabbatical from the school and Mike's class will have a substitute teacher until she's back. If she comes back. I guess she's going on a show called Dating Deanna that starts filming in Tartosa soon."

Hazel reeled. "Nicola?! On a dating show? Does she know they usually put contestants through their paces and people...people cheat?"

"Maybe she thought her usual ways weren't really working for her anymore."

Hazel considered this with a nod. It was suddenly all too clear why he'd come to see her. "I hope Nic finds someone who makes her happy."

"And is Suri a rebound? Or are you really interested in her?"

"I don't know. I really like her and we have more in common than Nic and I did." Hazel shrugged. "I hope it's real, but we're giving each other space right now, after everything fell apart so publicly."

"That might not be the worst idea, but don't punish yourself and miss out on something that might be really good. You made a mistake and you have to learn from it; it's really that simple, but you're not a horrible person." River offered his little sister a hug, and Hazel accepted it willingly. "Maybe one day you and Nic can get closure for the way everything broke down, but you're on different journeys now, and you both have a chance to find happiness and really discover who you are. That's what really matters."

"Thanks, big bro. I know I'd deserve it if you were all mad at me."

He shook his head with a warm smile. "No you wouldn't. You didn't do anything to us. Just Nic. Maybe Suri, if you dragged her into this for nothing."

He stayed for dinner before heading home, leaving Heather dancing to the aerobics channel on his way out.

Lavender loved to be outside, and if her mom focused too long on her exercising, she'd usually sneak outside with her coat on to play around in the snow. One evening, she found a snowman Ash had built and promptly destroyed it - much to Ash's chagrin.

"I worked hard on that snowman!" he cried, pulling a frightening face to try to scare his little sister. Lavender peeled back in surprise.

"I sowwy, Ashy."

Ash scowled, but he couldn't stay mad at her, and immediately pulled her in for an autonomous hug. "It's okay, Lava. Just try not to do it anymore."

"I'll twy."

The next day, Ash invited his friend Arron Kalani over after school, excited to show off his brilliant new invention. "It's a remote control that will melt the snow!"

He pressed a button. Arron glanced outside the sliding patio doors in the living room and frowned at the white powder that had coated the town since the start of winter. "I don't think it works."

"It's solar powered. When the sun returns in the spring it should power up easier."

Arron turned up his nose in confusion. "What's the point of it working in the spring when the snow will be melted already?"

Lavender sat on the couch and giggled happily. "Ashy took ice-chippy!" she tattled.

Arron chuckled as Ash laughed at his oversight. "It's still pretty cool," Arron insisted. "I bet your next model will work better."

Life was always good, but the Nesbitt-Gordons couldn't help but feel as though things had never been better. For once, they weren't afraid to be hopeful. Heather kept working hard at Buttercup Pet Clinic, and Conrad focused on some other cases at work.

He had just finished looking over Officer Adler's notes on the recent Mercury Gratz assault case when the text they'd all been waiting for came in from Detective Spangler.

"We got her, Lieutenant. She was booked at San Myshuno PD first thing this morning." ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

NOTE: Arron is the son of Zoe Patel and Mitchell Kalani, and he has younger twin siblings Isabelle and Xavier.

Thought I'd end the year on a high note with Ximena behind bars! The second batch of year-end favourite screenies comes tomorrow before the story continues on New Year's Day, but the last one could rival any of the last 25, in my opinion.

[genderqueerdykes]

My apologies if you've answered this already, I sent an ask like this before but the weight gain, (potentially also muscle gain?) On Testosterone seems to have caused my breasts to grow some which has caused a lot of dysphoria...

I'm also feeling quite bad about the way the weight of my torso sits on me in general too. I just kinda feel like I need to hide my body behind big sweaters or something cause thinner clothes just look wrong.. i wish I could like the way my upper body looks like how I like my lower body. I know exercise could help but the chronic illnesses make it tough--do you have suggestions for how to maybe get in the habit of starting at home/any at home exercise regiment suggestions?

thanks for stopping by! i'm sorry to hear you have increased dysphoria from this

this can be temporary- when taking hormones sometimes you can have a rebound towards the beginning of starting HRT where you will produce a high amount of estrogen while your body gets used to having higher and higher levels of T. a lot of it will get converted into excess estrogen at first, which is why you start on a slow and steady dose schedule. your body needs time to adjust

talk to your provider regardless of how long this takes, but it may just need a few more weeks or months before it stops. you may also be growing muscle tissue under your breasts and its pushing them out more and making them look bigger than they are. that's something to consider as well, you may be experiencing muscle tissue becoming more dense.

always reach out to your providers when something like this comes up if possible, if not i totally understand! but they will know way more than i will, and they can try to get you tests that can help determine the root cause

if anyone else has advice for anon, feel free to pitch in. either way take care, you shouldn't have to feel worse like that. stay safe

[tea-and-secrets]

i think my favorite sport is turning me into a masochist LOL, my friends will know who this is but idc, its mostly a joke but like not entirely?

so basically, i do aerial silks. i started around 6 months ago (most likely 8 when this is posted) after spending ~7 YEARS in a very inactive, mostly sedentary lifestyle due to some health conditions (physical and mental) that made it very hard to get motivation to do any exercise. however, i’d ALWAYS wanted to so something like aerial silks or pole dancing etc because it looked so pretty and fun, and my mom recently found a place that does classes.

when first starting, it was genuinely agony. like i couldn’t do any of the moves because the sheer pressure on my limbs was so much that i couldn’t go upside-down for more than a few seconds. however, for some godforsaken reason (/lighthearted) i decided to stick with it, and over time it stopped hurting, and i started building some muscle! it took weeks to start being able to do the simplest things (ie. diaper pose), but now i can do them easily.

well anyways, to get to the point, ive been very much recently finding myself obsessing over it. not in an unhealthy “i need to improve myself” way but in a “i love how this makes me feel” kind of way. and one of the things ive found i really like about it is the pain that it gives—again, i dont mean in a self-harm way, but in the satisfied endorphins and sore muscles kind of way. it just feels so good when the lesson ends and all my joints are loose and achy.

and yeah lol, ive started to associate that kind of pain and aching and stretched muscles with the good feeling that aerial silks gives me, and i love doing it. it’s such a lovely sport, and is so satisfying, and im starting to think that those associations are turning me into some sort of masochist LMFAO

i love doing it, i love lying upside down and letting my spine decompress, and stretching my limbs and letting myself go weightless in the silks, and the ache of my core when i pull myself up into a diaper climb, and the way my calf muscles have become so strong after months of hard work.

anyways i guess the lesson is that if traditional exercise isnt for you, try alternative exercise!! things like aerial silks, rebounding, bungee fitness, etc, because at least for me the issue was largely mental because traditional exercise didn’t give me the dopamine to keep at it and this new kind is! and of course it isnt for everyone, however i will say that as a fairly fat person myself aerial silks is actually quite accessible. a rigging can (or should be able to) hold 700+ pounds, and because of the extra weight you end up gaining quite a lot of muscle because you have to put in more work to pull yourself up (same reason why fat people often have VERY strong calves, because walking takes more energy than for someone who weighs less)

i just. really love the classes, i love the teachers, and i love seeing all the regulars, and having people who know my name and smile when they see me feels so good. idk, im a lot happier now, i can focus better on schoolwork, and im mad that my mom was right and that exercise DOES make you feel good lol. a lot of that stuff is due to being on medications that help me with my conditions but the exertion of silks definitely helps as well.

er, ted talk over, anyways! highly highly recommend aerial silks, it hurts like hell but if you’re crazy like me you’ll start to like it LMFAO, have a good day

.

[sizzlingcandyjellyfishhhhhh]

yo tori can u share which exercises or workouts u do ლ⁠(⁠・⁠﹏⁠・⁠ლ⁠)

yeah of course!!

alright so walking of course, and I also like the apple fitness + workouts a lot! I do the core, yoga, Pilates, and mindful cooldown workouts. I also like using a rebounder or a jump rope. depending on the time of year, I also enjoy paddleboarding, swimming, and skiing :))

[the-physicality]

we eeked that out.

15:21 minutes of good hockey [including OT]

thank you cayla barnes

if your specialty is the pk, do not take stupid penalties

mgm is innocent

100% pk

desbiens has improved a lot from point blank

wilgren was the only one who did not give up on defending that second goal

i wish this team would see when passes have to be cleaner

the turnovers were so bad today

depth scoring yay

keopple and poulin with a +2

i think on breakaways we need to be less concerned with board battles and more concerned with getting back and setting up

i would like them to run some rebound exercises because the number of rebounds that just sat until boston picked them up, unacceptable

we need to spice it up because i think we are becoming predictable and that's why other teams are able to turn us over

[darkwing-katy]

The Spider and the Fly Part II

Pairing: Eventual Leland x Reader (sorta? You’ll see what I mean)

Word Count: 3,943

Summary: All you want to do is get through your online courses and keep your best friend from making bad choices in men. But there’s this creepy therapist who is absolutely insisting on you making an appointment with him. Who the hell is this Leland Townsend, and why won’t he leave you alone?!

Part two of seven. Takes place sometime around seasons one and two.

The series is inspired heavily by my favorite poem, “The Spider and the Fly” (1829) by Mary Howitt. This poem is in the public domain.

Tagging: @primosflowergarden; @vi-er

Part One

——————————————————————————————————

“I’m sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high;

Will you rest upon my little bed?” said the Spider to the Fly.

“There are pretty curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin.

And if you like to rest awhile, I’ll snugly truck you in.”

You hang up your phone with a smug grin. So this Dr. Townsend thought he could intimidate you? Fuck that. You weren’t about to let that happen, and you’d made sure to give a fake last name, fake address (that you verified to make sure it wasn’t easily google-abley false), and left a fake phone number. It wasn’t the first time you’d done something like this—you’d made up fake names in bars when you saw creeps hitting on women (and men) who were clearly uncomfortable. One time you’d made up a whole elaborate backstory about being the adopted sister of a woman who was being harassed and that was why you looked so drastically different. The drunken creeps had bought your little story, and the woman had been so grateful for the help.

You’d scheduled the fake appointment with Dr. Townsend for a week from now, and you had such a great time imagining the pissed-off expression on his face when you never showed and he found that he’d wasted his time on you. Why the hell had he been so adamant about you meeting him, anyway? You didn’t need a therapist; if anyone did, it was Betty, who was already on the rebound with a guy she met on tinder. You loved your friend, but by God, she needed to take some time to figure herself out. Maybe she’d do that when she went to her parents’ place for the rest of the summer.

Life goes on, and you put Dr. Townsend out of your mind as you work your job at the bookstore and come back home to the apartment you and Betty share to work on your creative writing coursework. Your latest course assignments consist of reading multiple books in your preferred genre of writing, but they all have to be by different authors. You also have to keep a journal that you write in first thing in the morning, three pages, and a few things involving figuring out what your goals are as a creative person and what kinds of thoughts hold you back. It’s all very introspective, which was hokey at first, but you’ve learned some things about yourself, and you find that you actually enjoy the exercises…even if they feel silly at times.

You come home from work on Thursday to an unfamiliar car parked in front. That alone is enough to send your nerves tingling, but the real shocker is when you step into the apartment to see Betty sitting at the kitchen table drinking tea…with Dr. Townsend seated across from her.

What the actual fuck? you think as you stare at the scene before you. As if he’d read your mind, Dr. Townsend turns his head to look at you, a warm smile on his face that does not reach his eyes in any way, shape, or form. “Oh, hello there, (Y/N)! Betty was just filling me in on her latest boy toy problems. Man, that James sounds like such a wonderful fella, doesn’t he?”

From what you’ve heard of James, you already hated the guy, but you weren’t about to declare that in front of Betty. You’re not sure what your face looks like, but whatever expression you have seems to give Dr. Townsend some form of satisfaction because he leans back in the small wooden chair and takes another long draught of his cup of tea.

“Yes, Dr. Townsend was telling me that I shouldn’t be so quick to judge guys by their profiles,” Betty said with a wide smile. Hers is authentic, you note grumpily. “I know that you said I should investigate James some more, but Dr. Townsend thinks I shouldn’t be afraid to take chances and explore the unknown instead of going into a relationship knowing everything about a guy.”

“Please, call me Leland,” Dr. Townsend says, flashing what seems to be a friendly smile in Betty’s direction.

Betty titters, a weird sound that you do not like hearing from your best friend. Oh, God, she’d better not be crushing on this asshole. It’d be just like her to fall for his charm and try to hit on him, even with the age gap.

“Alright, Leland,” she repeats, her cheeks pinking. You resist the urge to roll your eyes, but you need to stop this conversation right now.

“Betty, don’t you have to get to your Zumba class?” you say, your eyes darting to the stove clock. Her Zumba class isn’t until 5:30, but it’s close enough to now that she should be leaving, especially if she’s hoping to chat with her buddies in the class.

Betty jumps up from her chair, the legs scraping the floor as she turns her head towards the clock. “Oh, shit! Yeah, I gotta go!” She gives you an exasperated look. “I’m not even ready for it yet! Danny is gonna kill me if I’m late again.”

“Then GTFO,” you tell her, glad that she’ll be leaving the apartment. Of course, that means that you and Dr. Townsend—Leland—will be alone, but you can handle him. You just don’t want Betty to be collateral damage.

Leland the Loser keeps the smile on his face, but you doubt that Betty noticed that it never reaches his eyes, which are icy and fixed on you. You walk into the kitchen and lean against the counter to wait for Betty’s footsteps to head into her room. Leland opens his mouth to speak, but you hold up a sharp finger at him, and he clamps his mouth shut, though he looks irritated about being cut off.

You refuse to say anything until Betty’s gone, the door slamming shut behind her as she rushes out. The moment the door closes, you whip your head at Leland. “What the fuck are you doing here?” you demand as you glare at him. 

Leland tilts his head at you innocently. “You never showed up to your appointment yesterday, (Y/N),” he replies in a honeyed voice. “I was concerned.”

And that is very fucking disconcerting. You’d given his office a fake address, a fake name. How the hell had he found you? “I think we both know I had absolutely no intention of meeting with you, Dr. Townsend,” you say in a flat tone.

“Please, call me Leland.”

“Fine, Leland. How the hell do you know where I live, anyway?”

His face changes. It’s a subtle shift, but it’s there, a mixture of annoyance and amusement. “Ahh, yes. You gave my secretary a false address, false name, the whole dang shebang, didn’t ya?” That eerie glitter is back in his eyes. They’re just so damn blue. They’re not even a light blue; they’re dark and that makes them all the more off-putting. “It might’ve taken me much longer to track you down, but you made the mistake of using your own cell phone to call in.”

Oh, shit, you realize. “You tracked my cell phone?”

Leland smirks. “No, I just asked.” He doesn’t sound apologetic about it, not one whit. “I admire the effort, though. Not that it matters that much. If I wanted to find you, I would’ve found you.”

“Clearly,” you mutter as you scoot along the counter edge. Your kitchen knives are by the microwave, and something tells you that you might want them close. If this guy is so determined that he’s willing to figure out where you live and coerce your friend into letting him into the apartment…then he’s dangerous. 

His eyes catch your movement, and in less than a second, the smile is gone, replaced by a sneer. “You mind telling me why you’re so determined to avoid me, (Y/N)? Why you’re so…” his eyes dart to the knives and his lips curl, “afraid?”

You stop. You’re closer to the knives, but you’re also closer to him. What if he’s fast enough to get to you before you can grab a knife? You need a new plan. You mentally catalogue everything in your kitchen that you can use as a weapon. How fast can you unplug the microwave and throw it? “Well, you were pretty weirdly insistent at the coffee shop, and now you’re sitting in my kitchen. I think that’s reason enough to be suspicious of you,” you reply.

“Don’t tell me that you’re actually afraid of little old me?”

He sounds like he wants you to say yes, to admit that his presence makes you very, very afraid. Like hell you’re gonna admit that, especially if that’s what he wants.

“Concerned? Sure. Afraid, though?” You force yourself to chuckle. “What is there to be afraid of?”

He doesn’t respond, and the silence says volumes. You feel the goosebumps prickle again, but at least this time, you’ve got a light sweater on, a habit from your workplace. You’ve never been so grateful that the bookshop is kept at a freezing temperature as you are now.

Who the hell is this guy? You start to cross your arms but stop, knowing it would only make you look more defensive. Instead you put them on your hips. “The hell do you want with me?”

Leland adjusts the chair so that he can face you, and you curse internally at him. He knows you’re going for the knives and he’s telling you that he’s watching. “Like I said—I think we could do great things together.” He sets his mug down. “I’ve heard some interesting stories about you, you know.”

You purse your lips. “From who?” you ask.

He smiles, but there’s no kindness in it. “Oh, from some associates of mine here and there. They’ve hinted that you’re…quite imaginative when it comes to hurting people.”

“I don’t hurt people,” you snap. “I don’t do shit like that.”

Leland doesn’t look bothered by this revelation at all. “Alright, so then you don’t torment the men who hurt your friends? You’ve never done anything to the assholes who break your heart?” He raises his eyebrows, and you feel your breath catch.

How the hell does he know about that? Not even Betty, your best friend in the whole wide world, knows the extent of what you’ve done, the psychological vengeance you’ve exacted on each and every one of those dickwads. It’s almost a game at this point—you rank the men on how easy it is to scare them, on how elaborate your schemes need to be to terrify them. You’ve already started working on plans for James if he turns out to be just as shady as you expect him to be.

“No,” you lie, and Leland’s face twitches, like he expected you to do that. But how could he possibly know? You’re excellent at covering your tracks. There’s a reason you’ve never been caught by any of the exes.

“Why are you lying, (Y/N)?” he asks in a silky voice. “You’ve done some fun stuff. You’re allowed to brag about it. This is a safe space.” He waves his hands at your kitchen and you scowl.

“No, it’s fucking not,” you reply, a touch too aggressively.

Leland sighs dramatically and rises to his feet. You ready yourself for—for what? Is he gonna attack you in your own kitchen? “What would it take to get you to come to an appointment, (Y/N)?” he asks, and there’s an odd wistfulness to his voice. You’re confused. You barely know the guy. Why does he care so much? Why do you matter to him? “I’m serious—I think you’d be surprised at how beneficial it could be for you.”

He’s just…standing there, waiting for you.

So you take a step forward in the hopes that maybe you can scare him off. He doesn’t step back, doesn’t even look nervous. 

“Nothing—I repeat, nothing—is gonna make me come to an appointment with you,” you tell him, your voice firm.

He sighs again, looks away from you for a moment as he seems to come to some sort of conclusion. “Alright, then. What about this?” He looks back at you, and you do not like the way he’s looking at you. You want to back up, but backing up would mean giving in, even if it might be safer to do that. “How about you come to an appointment, and I don’t slip into here in the middle of the night—or day, I’m not picky—and slit your friend’s throat?” He nods his head towards the empty chair that Betty had been sitting in when you’d arrived home.

His tone is amicable, pleasant, but the words are jarring enough that you do take a step back. “Uhm, what?” You say, certain that you must’ve misheard him.

He gives you a cordial smile, and his entire face is lit up with glee at garnering a reaction from you at last. “I mean, unless you want me to. God knows she’s a whiney little bitch who really needs to make better choices in men. It’s probably a lotta work keeping her protected from all the assholes of the world.” He shrugs. “Maybe you’d prefer it if she was gone. I can get rid of her body, too. Easy-peasy.”

There’s a queasy feeling churning in your stomach. Your heart is racing, and you’re trying to keep your breathing steady, but it’s hard when he’s talking like that—he’s fucking talking about murdering Betty, for Chrissakes! You have to breath in through your nose to keep it from shuddering.

You take another step back, this time on purpose. You need those knives now.

“What? You don’t like that idea?” Leland takes a step towards you, his face contorted into a mockery of concern. “You don’t like the idea of coming home to find that your roommate has disappeared without a trace?”

Your mouth opens and closes. You don’t know what to say, but you need to think of something, and fast, or else he’s gonna realize you’re feeling behind you for the knives. What would a final girl say? What would they say in the movies? “Uhm…thanks, but no thanks?” You say. Your voice is faint, and you hate it, because it’s betraying how worried you are. You suck in a shuddering breath. “I, uhm.” You shake your head in the hopes that it’ll clear your thoughts. It helps, if only a modicum. “As annoying as Betty might be at times, I’d, uh, appreciate it if you don’t, you know, murder her. Rent in New York is a real bitch.”

Alright, that works, you think to yourself. That’s morbidly funny, right?

Leland snorts in amusement, and you relax juuuuuuust a hair. He hasn’t yet noticed that you’re feeling around for the knives, and your fingers brush up against the wooden knife holder. “Great! So I’ll see you next Thursday at 3?” He chirps.

You blink as you lick your lips. “I, uhm. I work until 4:30.”

A flicker of irritation crosses his face. “Fine. Five, then.”

You nod. “Sure. Five.”

He holds up a finger at you. “Thursday! Don’t be late!”

You flash him the biggest smile you can muster as your hands wrap around one of the knives. “Thursday at five. I’ll underline it on my calendar.” You nod your head towards the magnetic calendar that’s hanging on your fridge, and when Leland glances at it, you strike.

On second thought, charging at the man probably wasn’t the best idea you’ve ever had, but the fuck else are you supposed to do when he’s casually talking about killing your best friend?! It’s clumsy and dumb, but it’s too late; you’re committed to this. You lunge at him, the knife turned outwards. You’re really not sure what you’re meaning to do—intimate him? Slice him? Kill him yourself?—but it doesn’t even matter, because Leland has weirdly fast reflexes and he slaps the knife out of your hand easily. It doesn’t even fricking graze him, the son of a bitch.

The knife clatters to the floor. You try to duck down to grab it, but he grabs your arm and pins it to the table. You swipe at him with your other arm, but he manages to avoid it and pin that arm down, too. Now you’re both face-to-face, glaring at each other. You do the only other thing you can think of—you headbutt him, hard. He yelps in pain, but that wasn’t the best choice ever either because now your head hurts, too.

He releases your arms, but at the same time, he’s got the wherewithal to kick the knife away, and somehow you two have rotated in the kitchen so that he’s the one with his back to the rest of the knives and you’re the one with no other weapons.

Plus your head hurts like hell.

You’re huffing, breathing heavily, and he’s doing the same, but there’s laughter mingled in as Leland catches his breath. “Alright, that was fun! Not how I wanted our first session to go, but…” He raises a hand to you, not in retaliation, and you see that there’s red across his nose where your headbutt pushed his glasses into his nose.

You stare at him, dumbstruck, heart thudding in your ears. You’re genuinely not sure if you need to run away. You probably should, in all honesty, but then Leland moves, and you get ready to fight him again if you need to. 

But Leland doesn’t show any signs of wanting to keep fighting. Instead he reaches up to his cut nose, dips his finger in the red blood, and brings the finger to his mouth, where he slowly licks his own blood off of his finger.

And dammit all to hell, as fucked up as it is, it’s kinda sexy. You immediately shut down that line of thinking because what the fuck, brain, he just threatened Betty and for all you know, he might be planning to murder you after you just attacked him, you should not under any circumstances be attracted to that!

There’s warmth pooling in your lower belly as you watch him, and you have to wrench your face into an expression of horror to hide your true thoughts. God, what the hell was that?

Leland finishes licking his blood off of his finger and gives you a sultry, smug grin. “Oh, yeah, this is gonna be really fun,” he drawls, and there’s something in his voice that makes you flush, and you hate it. Betty is the one who falls for the shitheads. You’re the one who protects her from them. You do not put up with this kind of crap.

“Get out of my apartment,” you growl in a low voice, ignoring the throbbing in your forehead. You’re gonna have a lump there, you can tell.

His grin widens, and you catch a little splash of red on his teeth. He adjusts his glasses, wipes his nose. There’s no blood on the back of his hand, which means you didn’t headbutt him hard enough to break his nose. That’s unfortunate. “I can’t wait to see how next week goes. Maybe we’ll get to talk about Jordan.”

The name drop is casual, but the sensual warmth that you’d felt vanishes in a split second at the mention of your ex. You’ve been single for six months now, almost seven—Jordan was a disaster that fucked you up for a solid month and a half. How the hell does Leland know about him, though? You’ve taken great care to delete any and all traces of him. 

You don’t have time to ask that—not that you want to know, either. Leland Townsend has done his research on you and you hate it, but the sooner he’s out of your apartment, the sooner you can do some research on him.

“Get out,” you snarl. 

Leland looks pleased that he’s touched a nerve. “What’s the magic word?”

You glare at him. “Oh, my bad,” you say, forcing yourself to sound sweet. “I meant to say, ‘Please get the fuck out’.”

Leland laughs at that. “Alright, since you asked so nicely.” He turns his back on you, and you’re tempted to lunge for the knives and just stab him in his stupid creepy back, but he probably wants you to try that, and you can’t risk his stupidly fast reflexes, so you don’t. You stand in your spot, stiff, unblinking, only moving to make sure he’s actually going out the door and not trying to stay behind. “See you next week at five!”

“Yeah, whatever,” you mutter. He flashes you yet another wide grin, one that you return in the most shit-eating way possible. His eyes are still cool, but they’re tinged with amusement. He enjoys your anger, the sicko. 

The moment the door shuts behind him, you rush to it and lock it. You also go to the window and watch him get into his car. He turns his head towards you as he opens the door and gives you a wave, which you return with a middle finger and another falsely bright smile. You see him laugh at you before he climbs into the car and drives away.

“What the fuck have I gotten myself into?” you ask as his car grows smaller and smaller, the distance between you and him growing greater. “What the fuck is going on with me?”

You turn away from the window and take a seat at the kitchen table, your eyes landing on the knife on the floor. You kick it, sending it spinning across the kitchen and under the fridge, which makes you groan in frustration as you drop to your knees to retrieve it.

When you’ve tossed it into the sink, you turn to the rest of the kitchen. Leland’s empty mug is still sitting there on the table, and you scowl at the sight. You’d love nothing more than to smash the mug, but it’s your favorite one. How the hell had he wound up with that mug, of all the coffee mugs in this place? It’s like he somehow knew that you’d want to smash it when he left, like this is some kind of sick test of your self-control.

Well, screw that bullshit. You’re not gonna smash your mug, but you’re not gonna take this lying down, either. You’re gonna research the hell outta this guy, and then once you figure out his weaknesses, you’re gonna scare the fuck out of him before he can do the same to you.

You make yourself pick up the mug and put it gently into the sink. There’s a smear of red on the rim, and you’re reminded of the way he’d looked at you as he’d sucked the blood off of his finger.

That warm feeling returns, and you hate yourself for being just a little turned on by the memory.

To stop yourself from reminiscing any further (you will not catch feelings for this psychopath), you turn to your writing assignments. Maybe writing about you feelings will get them out of your system, and then you can turn your full attention to researching this blue-eyed bastard.

You’re also gonna have to give Betty a talk about letting strangers into the apartment. A very strict talk.

“Oh no, no,” said the little Fly, “for I’ve often heard it said

They never, never wake again, who rest upon your bed!”

————————————————

Part Three

[scientia-rex]

Hello, I appreciate your medical posts very much and having seen a post the other day where you said migraine was in your areas of special interest, I'd love to ask a related question. You talk about bodies and medicine and patient experience etc in a way that makes a lot of sense to me and I'd trust your take.

I have chronic migraine. I'm currently at 100% pain days, with varying severity. Very hard to pin down what is prodrome, the main event, and postdrome as it's all blurred into one. My migraine team want me to reduce painkiller usage (currently dihydrocodeine and paracetamol daily, and ibuprofen maybe every other day on top) due to rebound headache. I want to cut down because they're fucking expensive and I'm scared for my liver and kidneys. But I literally can't cope with life without them. I went off them for four months a few years ago and the pain was so severe and so debilitating I was the most suicidal I've been in my life. Without painkillers I can't get to the toilet unaided, rarely leave bed, even more rare to leave the house. It's hell. And that's not even considering the effects on everyone around me who has to pick up to care for me.

So what do I do? The way I see things, I need something to help the pain improve before I can use less painkillers, but the longer I go on trying to find something that works and not getting there, the more I think maybe I'm wrong in that. I know a bit about how codeine based painkillers can reduce your pain tolerance / pain baseline. I don't think it's an addiction issue because I've been at the same (over the counter) dosages for 4 years now. I just want to do all that I can to be better, but I also need to be alive to be better. I am stuck.

TL;DR - If you have any thoughts on the relationship between chronic migraine, painkiller use, preserving quality of life while finding a treatment, and increasing the chances of a treatment working, and where on earth the balance between all that lies, I'd really like to hear them.

Again, I absolutely appreciate if you can't answer this, don't want to etc. Giving advice online is notoriously tricky and all that. But a big thank you for your time in reading, and all your weight and exercise posts especially which make me feel so much better about my body. Wishing you all good things! 💖

I won't speak to your case directly, since I'm not your doctor, but here is my personal algorithm for escalating treatments for migraine (note that "abortives" in this case means something you take after a migraine starts to try to end it, while "prophylactic" means a daily treatment you take to reduce likelihood of developing a migraine):

-OTC combination of magnesium, feverfew, and butterbur, taken daily

-Triptans (insurance will usually demand patients fail at least 3 to cover a more expensive treatment)

-High-dose NSAIDs (as abortive treatment given risk of rebound headaches if used daily)

-Daily topiramate (insurance will always demand this is either failed or there's a clear contraindication)

-Daily calcium channel blockers

-Daily beta blockers (higher dose than used for anxiety or low-grade arrhythmias)

-Daily anti-epileptic medications (such as Lamictal)

-Monthly anti-CGRP monoclonal antibody injections (Aimovig or Ajovy; expensive so insurance will demand you've failed some or all of the previous meds)

-Abortive anti-CGRP orals (Nurtec or Ubrelvy)

-Abortive ergotamine, usually Migranal, a nasal spray (very expensive and must be repeated 15 minutes after initial dose regardless of whether symptoms are improving or not)

-Prophylactic Botox (I believe this is every 3 months, must be done in the office of a trained and licensed professional, usually but not always a Neurology provider)

-Sphenopalatine ganglion blocks (done by dripping lidocaine far back into the sinuses to reach the sphenopalatine ganglion, again in the office of a trained and licensed professional)

-Cephaly (transcranial magnetic stimulation at-home device), expensive so insurance hates covering it

Now, one of my newer tools, and my current personal favorite, is a greater occipital nerve block--easy and fast, low risk, and I've had about 90% success with my patients in aborting current headaches. Effects seem to last 3-4 weeks in most cases and since it's straight lidocaine (you don't have to include steroids, though you can) you can do it as often as needed. I generally do this in my office, but I did train one patient's spouse to do it at home given how frequent their headaches. The pharmacy lost their fucking mind about letting an outpatient have lidocaine. I don't know why.

I currently manage my pretty awful chronic migraines with a combination of monthly Aimovig, as-needed Excedrin (the combination of caffeine, Tylenol aka paracetamol, and aspirin is effective for many people but is a real risk for causing medication overuse headaches, the more official term for bounce-back), as-needed Ubrelvy (I can sleep after taking Ubrelvy but not Excedrin so it's a good option), and roughly monthly greater occipital nerve blocks (I teach my trainees to do it using myself as a subject). I wouldn't mind trying the Botox but it's a PITA to get in to see our only local Neurology provider and since my migraines are relatively well-controlled (probably 1-2 headache days a week right now) I don't think it's worth the effort.

I also really got a lot out of this lecture, so give it a try.

[hello-my-name-is-aves]

A couple days ago I did a little Sanegiyuu bookshop reincarnation AU meet-cute as a writing exercise (read it on Tumblr or AO3). I had someone on AO3 say they wanted Sanemi's POV and it was fun to explore the other side. So Sanegiyuu Bookshop Meet-Cute Part 2 Sanemi POV:

Read it Here or after the break 😊

 "I didn't call for advice, Shinobu,” Sanemi growled into his phone. He ran his finger over book spines, reading titles, “I just need to know which books she already owns so I don’t buy her something she has.” 

“Fine, fine, let me go look at her shelf,” Shinobu said through the phone with a long-suffering sigh. “You should already know this. I mean, you’ve spent enough time in her bedroom.” She made a kissing sound into the phone. 

Sanemi choked, feeling his face flush. “You are a brat, you know that right?” he snarled. 

Shinobu laughed brightly. “Oh, calm down, Shinazugawa; you know I just have to give you hell about it.” 

Sanemi huffed in annoyance. You kiss your best friend one goddamn time, and suddenly it’s all her bratty little sister can talk about. It had been six fucking months! 

He and Kanae had been friends since high school. Sanemi felt a connection with her from day one, and they quickly became inseparable. After five years of being attached at the hip, they’d both figured they owed it to each other to just see what happened if they took the friendship one step further. Turns out one kiss was all it took for them each to realize that theirs wasn’t that sort of connection. But, strangely, that revelation had sealed their friendship even tighter than before, and Sanemi couldn’t imagine life without Kanae Kocho in it. 

Which, incidentally, was why he was here in the seventh circle of bookstore hell looking through hundreds of volumes that fell under the topic of “botany” from cookbooks to wildflower field guides to Horticulture for Dummies. Why? Because Kanae’s birthday was coming up, and his best friend was like the human version of a butterfly: delicate and gentle and obsessed with flowers. So. A book on flowers, he figured. Perfect gift. If he could find the right one. He hadn’t anticipated the selection would be quite this large, and looking through the shelves upon shelves of books was sort of like a nightmare.  

It wasn’t that Sanemi didn’t like books. He thought that reading was great. He just had little respect for physical books and their paper-consuming waste. What the hell was the point of physical books when you could have virtually the entire catalogue of books ever written in the palm of your hand? Kanae, however, liked to have something solid in her hands. Hence his predicament. 

“Okay,” Shinobu finally said, “I’ve got the list of books. I’m going to text it to you.” 

“Thanks,” Sanemi said, “I’ll bring you a cookie for being such a good helper.” 

“Ha ha ha,” Shinobu said, “Bye ‘Nemi.”  She hung up. He shook his head and sighed, shoving his phone back into his pocket while he waited for her to get around to sending him the list. He already had a handful of books he thought might be good options. Based on what Shinobu sent him, he could narrow it down. 

Sanemi approached the end of the shelf, and realized that the section continued around the corner. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, baffled that there could be THIS many books on fucking plants. 

He adjusted his load of books and made to go around the corner. Unfortunately, at the exact same time as someone was also coming around the corner in his direction. 

They collided. Hard. The person was nearly as tall as Sanemi, but with a slighter build. They rebounded off Sanemi and lost their balance. Sanemi instinctively tried to catch their arm, intending to keep them from keeling over, and forgetting in the process that his arms were entirely occupied with books. So the person still lost their balance, falling back on their ass, and all of his books tumbled to the floor. 

Of course. Of course. His temper flared as he looked at his scattered books, the bulk of it directed (perhaps irrationally) at the clumsy dumbass on the floor who’d clearly not been paying any attention whatsoever.

“Would you fucking watch where you’re going?” Sanemi snapped sharply at the person, glaring down at them and–

Oh.

The man he’d nearly flattened was…was… goddamn. Obsidian hair in choppy layers, hanging just past his shoulders, framing a porcelain face and highlighting shockingly blue eyes. He was almost too pretty to be real, like someone had taken a person and run them through photoshop. Sitting on the floor, he rubbed his elbow where it must have smacked the shelf on the way down, then looked up at Sanemi like he’d never seen another human being before, his expression flat and empty as a sheet of blank paper. 

“Shit,” Sanemi said, dragging himself out of his shameless ogling of a total stranger. He reached a hand out to help the man up. The man looked at him, then stared at his hand. And stared. And stared some more, remaining frozen where he sat. What the hell? Patience wasn’t one of Sanemi’s great strengths. He made an exasperated sound and reached down to the man’s arm, taking it just below his shoulder. He blinked in surprise. Lean, sure, but not slim, Sanemi noted as his fingers gripped around solid muscle, the kind you had to work for. Pretty and strong, then. He dragged the man to his feet, and only when the man was barely more than six inches from him did Sanemi realize how his forcibly pulling the man to his feet had positioned them, standing close together, and the man was still staring, his cheeks flushing lightly, and shit, he was even prettier up close. It would be so damn easy to close those last few inches and–

Woah. Slow the fuck down. 

The man took a step back, and Sanemi let go of his arm. Good. That was good. Because Sanemi had just been hit with the most lunatic impulse out of fucking nowhere and space was a good call. 

Connection, realization dawned on him. 

He’d felt a weird sort of something, a few times in his life now, a thing that he didn’t have any other name for. It usually came as a vague sense of familiarity, the feeling that he knew someone from somewhere despite knowing that they’d never met. Sometimes it was fleeting. Sometimes it lingered. Sometimes he pursued the connection, like he had with Kanae. More often than not, he simply let it pass without acting on it. 

He was getting that feeling with this man. 

Strongly. 

The man had crouched back down and was gathering up Sanemi’s books one by one. Something passed over his features as he read the titles, barely a hint of it, but Sanemi caught it all the same. Skepticism. 

“They’re a gift,” he supplied self-consciously, not sure why he felt compelled to explain himself except that…he could tell that the man knew that these books weren’t something Sanemi would look for for himself. And Sanemi knew that the man knew, as impossible as that should be. “I’ve got a friend,” he said as he crouched down and picked up the last two books, “Her birthday is next week. She’s into flowers and plants, all that green thumb bullshit.” 

In his periphery, Sanemi watched the slight crease of the man’s brow ease, and the skepticism was replaced with what Sanemi knew was satisfaction. Such miniscule expressions, they might as well have not been there at all. But Sanemi could read them, all the same. Of course, he wouldn’t have to do so much guesswork if the asshole would just say something. In fact, he hadn’t said a single word in their entire interaction, all silence and stoicism, and Sanemi really needed him to say something, anything, unconsciously leaning into the connection he felt, needing to know if his voice would feel familiar too. Why was he still not saying anything? 

Sanemi’s temper slipped, and his voice was too harsh as he demanded, “Are you a damn mute or something?” 

The man blinked. His gaze flickered across Sanemi’s features. Face. Arms. Hands. Chest. Back to his eyes. 

“Of course not,” he said. His voice was as smooth as still water, and it struck Sanemi deep in his chest. “Here are your books,” he continued, holding the load out. 

Sanemi looked at the books, meaning to reply, but he felt strangled by own voice, and all that came out was a sort of shapeless, disgruntled sound. He pushed past it and accepted the books, trying not to touch the man, but unable to help it entirely, and God, his skin was soft, and Sanemi’s hands twitched with the entirely uncalled for urge to abandon the books entirely, take the man’s hands and feel the shape of them folded in his own–

STOP.

“Be more careful,” Sanemi said through his teeth, turning away. He had to get the fuck away from this person before he made a complete ass of himself. He took one step, but then hesitated. He’d never felt a connection like this one before. Not even with Kanae. And Kanae had turned out to be his very best friend. If he let himself chase down this connection, what would it turn into? He didn’t know. And it terrified him how badly he wanted to. He shook his head, clearing the stupid fallacies from his brain, and forced himself to walk away. 

Walk. Walk. Walk, he thought furiously, arguing himself off the ledge he’d come dangerously close to jumping from. Just put more space, more distance, more time, between you and him, and whatever this feeling is will go away, just like it always does when you don’t waste your time with these deluded feelings that don’t mean anything. Give it a day. Hell, give it an hour. He’ll just be a memory of a random dude you ran into in the bookshop, and a good story to tell Kanae.

He meant to head to the check-out, but paused when a book caught his eye, the cover scattered with jewel-bright butterflies. Okay. One more book, then he’d decide between the one’s he’d gathered. He walked over to the shelf, pulling the book out and looking over the back cover to get an idea of what it was about.

A moment later, someone (and Sanemi hated that he knew who without turning around) cleared their throat behind him. Why had the man followed him? He felt nerves in his stomach and a zing of anticipation race down his spine and he swallowed hard before he looked over his shoulder. 

“You again?” he asked, grateful that the breathlessness he felt in his lungs didn’t come out in his voice.  

The man– shit, so goddamn pretty –didn’t say anything to Sanemi’s question. He just held out a book. 

“You should give this one to your friend,” he said confidently, “My brother’s girlfriend loved this book. She’s also into all the ‘green thumb bullshit’.”

Sanemi looked at the book. Then back at the man. And Sanemi felt himself wavering in his resolve to not pursue this whatever it was. The man had gone out of his way to find a book and bring it to him, which he definitely didn’t have to do. And he was standing there, watching Sanemi, staring at him again. And it didn’t feel strange that he was staring. It didn’t feel awkward like it, by all logic, should have. It just felt like he was trying to figure Sanemi out, the same way Sanemi was trying to figure him out, each of them dancing around this connection that Sanemi felt, and at this point, he was half-convinced that the man felt it too. 

But he hesitated. He was back on that ledge. And he knew, he just knew, that if he stepped off, he was going to fall hard and fast and there would be no going back, not ever.

And he just wasn’t sure if he was ready for that. 

“Thanks,” he said, taking the book from the man’s hand. And then he looked away from him. Deliberately. 

He could practically feel the disappointment that arced off the man, rippling outward into Sanemi. But to his credit, he didn’t push Sanemi any further. He turned and started walking away. Sanemi closed his eyes. Every step dragged at him, tugging like some invisible tether between them, pulling taut the further away he got. It had to be all in his head, it made no sense at all, and yet he felt it like a physical thing, a need to know this man. 

What was he thinking? Suddenly it struck Sanemi, all at once painfully clear that he couldn’t just let the man go. If he did, refusing to take a chance because he was scared of the outcome, there was not a shred of doubt in his mind that he was going to regret it. 

He turned. “Hey–” he called, and the man froze. Then turned. And Sanemi could see the threads of fragile hope woven across his expression, clear as day. 

“You come here very often?” Sanemi asked in a rush, then promptly cursed himself for what sounded like a cheesy-ass pick up line. 

“Often enough,” the man said with a shrug.

Okay. Okay. Sanemi steeled himself. He was going to do this. 

“Happen to know if the cafe is any good?” he asked. He’d seen the place just off the entrance when he’d arrived, a little coffee shop that sold sandwiches and salads and pastries. 

“It’s good. A little overpriced maybe–” the man said, walking back over to Sanemi slowly. 

Sanemi snorted at that, arguing, “What isn’t these days?” 

There. Sanemi saw it. The traces of the man’s smile as he nodded. God, he wanted to see him smile and that hint of it gave Sanemi the confidence he needed to ask, “You hungry?” 

He was never this forward. He never spontaneously asked people out, let alone asking them to join him for a meal right then and there. He had no idea what he was doing. He felt like he was delirious, high on his own goddamn imagination. But at this point, he’d resigned himself to being carried on the wave. 

“Sure, I could eat.” 

And that was that. Sanemi sighed deeply, relief warring with disbelief, because what the ever-loving fuck was he actually doing here? He felt like he’d opened a door, having no way to know where it led, and stepped into a room, but all the lights were off, and he was just wandering blindly in the dark. Somehow, the thrill made it worth it. 

“Great,” he said and started towards the cafe, trusting that the man would follow him, and sure enough, he felt his quiet presence at his shoulder, saw his dark hair and pale skin and ocean-blue eyes in his periphery. “My treat,” he threw out, just to be clear about his intentions. But would the offer to pay make the man uncomfortable? Sanemi added, “Since I knocked you on your ass – even though it was your own damn fault.” 

The man didn’t answer, just let out a quiet huff of air that might’ve been the start of a laugh. Other than that he stayed silent. Sanemi had never met someone who kept his words so locked up, and he hoped that once they were sitting down, he would open up a little more. Sitting down, he realized, in a bookshop cafe: they were practically on a date now, and he didn’t even know the guy’s name. 

“You got a name?” Sanemi asked, holding his breath as he waited, not sure why it mattered so much. But, then, none of this was anything remotely resembling logical at this point.  

“Giyu,” he answered.  

Giyu. Sanemi repeated the name to himself, savoring it. God, even his name felt right, achingly familiar. It fit the man like it was tailored to him. Giyu, Giyu, Giyu.  

“Sanemi,” Sanemi offered his own name in return.

A pause, like Giyu was taking his time processing the name, feeling it out. Then he said warmly, “Nice to meet you, Sanemi.”

Shit– Sanemi’s name, in Giyu’s still-water voice – he didn’t think he’d ever appreciated the sound of his own name so much. He wanted Giyu to say it again, and the thought made warmth pool in his cheeks and creep down his neck, and he hoped it was less obvious than it felt. Yet, somehow, he didn’t really care so much if Giyu saw him blush. In fact… 

He thought he was sort of looking forward to it.   

[ripplestitchskein]

I’ve seen a couple posts about this topic so I wanted to throw my hat in the ring. Or at least make my position clear.

I do not think that Stolas needs to be with other people, be that Vassago, Better Than Blitz guy, or someone else. I do not believe he needs to have more sexual or romantic relationship experiences with someone other than Blitz for his character arc or to learn how to be a better partner for Blitz or any of that. I intensely dislike the idea that a character or person has to have a bunch of different experiences to know what they actually want in general or as like some kind of life skill building exercise to obtain enough experience points to “earn” the person they want. I don’t think it’s necessary for Blitz either, he can see Stolas moving on and away and want to work to change without a third party as the catalyst. There’s just a lot of weirdness around these concepts in general. Like the fixation on “healthy” relationships is odd to me, it’s definitely a newer fandom thing, and it has a lot of implications for neurodivergent people I’m not going to unpack here. So yeah.

I’ve also already made it clear that I definitely don’t want Stolas to lose his desire for romance. He doesn’t need to get more realistic expectations or be more grounded in his relationships. I would be extremely disappointed if that was the ultimate takeaway for his character as I feel his desire for romance is a really central part of him and I don’t need the messaging to be about “realistic” romance.

However. The story has opted to hint at the possibility of Stolas *possibly* moving on with someone else, and Viv has implied Vassago is that possibility, so a lot of my speculations or theorizing follow that potential plot line or I try to theorize ways Vassago could fill a role in a platonic capacity while Blitz might think it’s more than it is etc. We still don’t know what role he’ll fill so it is only speculation but it is natural to wonder if it’s a love triangle or misunderstanding in that vein since the nature of the conflict is romantic.

That’s not to say that they can’t do interesting or compelling things with a love triangle plot line, I also don’t buy into the idea that cliched or tropey plot lines can’t be done well, they very well could. I love tropes. I got the watch the same shows over and over and over and listen to the same songs on repeat, read nothing but fan fiction which is basically just remixes of the shows I’m watching over and over brand of autism so I’m all for some cliche romance tropes.

So all this to say there is a difference between lining your theories and speculations up with a particular direction, and furthering discussions about those ideas if it seems like the show is going that way without explicitly endorsing the concept while still having an open mind to see what they ultimately will do with that concept. It may not be that people are yearning for or personally even wanting Stolas to have a rebound relationship but more they are setting their expectations up for that possibility since it is a common story thread.

That’s also not to say people who do want those types of stories are wrong for wanting them. There are compelling ways to write love triangles, just like we’ve seen them handle miscommunication, another often loathed trope. I’m just giving whatever they serve a chance and seeing where it goes. I am very much of the mindset that if I am enjoying what is happening, even if it’s cliche or not the direction I would have gone if I were in charge, then I’ll settle in for the ride. At the moment I trust the writing, I am having a blast with these characters and their issues and the ways things can play out and bending and twisting them into different scenarios. I trust the crumbs they’ve laid along the way and I’m interested to see how it ultimately plays out.

From a personal self indulgence level though I do like jealousy in fiction, I like yearning and angst and misunderstandings and messy things that aren’t desirable in reality, that aren’t even realistic and these cliches do open up for a lot of that. It CAN be done well. Fiction does not need to be clean and wholesome and “healthy”. Characters can do crazy shit real people can’t. I don’t watch shows or read fiction for realism. I do require happy endings though so as I’ve said all along if it seems like they aren’t going a direction I’ll enjoy I’m fine saying “okay, that was fun but I’m getting off the ride now, have fun you guys”.