#someone can’t physically aid you but cares to take the time to talk to the God of the universe about you and your need and plead for you

[demigodofhoolemere]

Me through most of Boom: Wow, this is a really solid dramatic episode.

Me when Moffat needlessly sprinkles in anti-faith sentiments without specifying that it’s blind faith in bad things that the Doctor doesn’t like, which makes it come off like the Doctor is just against religion generally:

[fauustic]

Hello! I hope you are having an excellent day! Soo I saw you asked for Miguel requests so.. only if it's possible and if you could, may I request some Miguel O'Hara dating hcs?? Please and thank you! ^^

you are so sweet! thank you for being for my first request, anon!!

Dating Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

gender-nonconforming reader x miguel “spider-man 2099″ o’hara

comfort, fluff. angst. miguel's complicated, but he loves you more than anything.

warnings: insecurity, possessiveness, brief/subtle obsession? he's totally devoted to you, but in truth he just absolutely adores you. again, my spanish isn't the best so i had aid using a translator!

word count: 1745

You thought Miguel was infatuated before as he snatched any chance he could be with you? The moment he officially became your boyfriend, he couldn’t go one moment without reminding you of his affections.

Miguel is intense, eager to express how much he loves you after so long of keeping it contained. He can’t get enough of you, as his lips finally brush against yours– it takes him so much control to not black out and have his way with you.

It's not that he has a high sex-drive, he’s just so reliant on physical affection for reassurance. Miguel will take every chance to ghost his lips over your skin, whether it be between the juncture of your neck and shoulder or treating your hands as if they were made of gold. He felt as if it was his purpose to make you feel cared for, as his teeth grazed your knuckles.

His trust had been broken many times before you stepped in his life, which shocked him with fear at the idea of getting hurt again as he tried his best to open up about himself. But once you obtain his trust, show him that your intentions of being with him were nothing less than pure, the loyalty he has for you rivals anything you've experienced before. 

Though, due to the insecurities Miguel tries to keep to himself, some questions he may throw at you in the dead of night after returning back home late were heavy. He'd slip between your hold with a heavy sigh, skin still damp from the shower he took moments prior. You would ask him what's wrong, telling him he could talk about anything– and that's when the doubts and hurt rose to the surface.

"Do you think I'm a bad boyfriend, cariño?" Miguel would ask, voice broken and full of worry as if he's in physical pain at the idea that he's not doing enough for you. Not keeping you happy, or loved. Before you had the chance to wash away his worries, the exhaustion fogging his brain would make him ramble more, unearth his mysterious thoughts that he'd kept tucked away when the sun was shining. It was always a learning experience for you, and it made your relationship even stronger as Miguel learned to be more open and you learned how to reassure him that he was amazing by just being himself.

On nights like that, you'd drown him in kisses and swipe away the stray tears that may have fallen against his skin.

As much as Miguel loved dousing you in affection, he couldn't help but trip over himself like a lovesick puppy when you'd pass by a kiss his nose without a moment's notice, or slip your arm around his own to keep yourself from losing one another in the busy streets of Nueva York.

His demeanour was soft when it came to you because you were a safe space he craved for so long. And when that space is threatened, he can't help but show a part of himself that he won't ever be able to contain.

Miguel's jealous. Very much so.

He wasn't used to feeling such a way when the bouts of jealousy would flow into his veins and short-circuit his brain. Even before the two of you were officially together and you both shared the same space at work (you being a lab assistant at the time and him being a chemist), his scarlet gaze unconsciously scouted every move another individual made as an effort to be more than friends with you.

A seductive laugh from someone who leaned a little too close for his comfort or the whisper Miguel picked up on about a "bar a couple blocks away, we need to get drinks sometimes." Oh, it made him see red.

You never knew it, but your reserved, polite dismissal of intimate advances saved multiple people from returning to their stations with a burning glare or even a broken nose.

The jealousy and possessiveness came hand in hand.

So after a night of you possibly testing his patience unintentionally, he'd play off the excessive bite marks and hickies as heat of the moment the next morning. But you even knew how he felt about you, and the repetitive chanting of "You're mine, mi conejito. Mine, you hear me?" Another bite. "I ever see someone on top of you like that, taking advantage of your kindness. Los mataré." He'd sputter with his spit and your blood intertwining like the most delicious taste he's ever been blessed upon. He'd generously share the taste with you.

Gifts such as jewellery was common, but never anything too expensive or flashy, you warned him. You were more than willing to adorn the things he gifted with you in mind, but at the beginning of you two dating he had gone overboard with an engraved diamond necklace that had everyone's head spinning.

Miguel loved knowing that, a little fang smirk as he hummed to himself with his ego inflating like a balloon. You popped it easily, establishing the boundary of toning it down– but he couldn't help but forget sometimes. He'd beg for your forgiveness as he promised how he knew the rules, but the "ring he passed by on his way home was just, so you he couldn't pass up." Usually this excuse dived into a plethora of compliments, and relating the piece of jewellery to the idea that it has your favorite flower or color. You couldn't help but cave, the little argument long forgotten when he'd slip the expensive metal on you himself. Always ending with his lips to the gift and your skin in one kiss, a content expression in his gaze.

When he finally was comfortable enough to reveal his secret to you, his other life he desperately kept under the wraps, the confession was scarier than anything he's ever done in his entire life. Miguel faced criminals every sundown, putting his life at danger for his own morals. He's been genetically mutated, a painful process which he's still trying to accept. He's lost so many people in his life, Miguel would lose himself if you left too.

But as you accepted the truth, you soon accepted everything that came with it.

His teeth, the fangs he would muster up every and any excuse for, would be freely showcased now in every cackle and smile he had to offer. His obsession with biting you strengthened tenfold. You thought the amount of marks you had beforehand when he got jealous was too many? He introduced you to a whole new reality.

Of course, with the cat out of the bag, Miguel would show all the things he deemed ugly about his transformation with a guilty stance and a downward gaze. He'd get mad at himself for not controlling his retractable claws when getting too into whatever he was doing with you, he'd grow distressed at how you'd react when his surroundings grew too overwhelming because of his different, more advanced senses. 

It wasn't until you finally caught Miguel when he slipped into your shared apartment where you drilled it into his head, lovingly, that he shouldn't be ashamed to be himself around you. That's what you're there for, to be his biggest supporter. By that night, he would be bent over on the toilet seat in the small space of your shared bathroom, hissing when alcohol came in contact with his wounds and purring when a massage relieved his tension. Stories became common between the two of you, shared within the safety of bathroom walls and fluffy towels. Miguel would recall almost every detail of a specific mission or an on-the-whim job. Sometimes, he could feel the anxiety in your soul, but he'd reassure you with a promise and a sweet kiss. Suddenly, Miguel became very good at lullabies.

Miguel was needy, in a way where he couldn't stop himself from asking for another kiss when you'd already given him fifty. He also would hound to give you one more kiss when you refused, which made him pout in a way he'd never show anyone else.

Pet names became like a second language as Miguel sputtered almost all of them under the sun, except the ones he obviously found distasteful. "ángel, cariño," were no doubt something he called you often, but once the both of you grew more comfortable in your relationship he soon began calling you things that reminded him of you; "Mi conejito, mi lucero del alba." You would ask him why you reminded him of a bunny, and with a cheeky laugh he'd say because he's the "big bad wolf" in the silliest way possible. Yet, a more serious answer came to the term of endearment "my morning star." 

Miguel began calling you that due to his relief of seeing the morning sky peek through the pitch black, lighting up stars before drowning them out. You are the morning star he finds and catches every time the late night bleeds into early day, reminding him that the danger is over until the next night. You were his protector, as his scars met cold kisses and blood found the warm press of a washcloth. You kept him hopeful.

Miguel was a complicated boyfriend, but his heart bled for you. If you found yourself overwhelmed and needed a break or a split altogether– of course he'd accept your wishes. Was he truly the man of honor he tried to believe he was if he couldn't let a single person step out of his life for their own happiness?

It hurt him badly, and despite the swirling thoughts of bringing you back and keeping you to himself– he never allowed himself to cave. Miguel tried to play the hero, and despite knowing that most would view him as a monster– you wouldn't want that for him. You wanted him to be happy more than anyone ever had, you just couldn't take his complexity. And that's okay, Miguel knew that.  It's unlikely your relationship would ever take such a heartbreaking path.

You two are together still, happy and settled into your own routine. Miguel, being able to find a balance within his chaotic mind and you were able to find a purpose for someone you loved.

Miguel needed you as much, if not more than you needed him. He was absolutely enthralled with you, devoted until his last breath.

[oldfashioned-lovergirl]

Can I request a ff where reader is lewis hamilton's wife. Like they are married and reader is pregnant then lewis made some mistakes that caused them to fight one night. Reader get so angry/sad and it just makes lewis worried so much about her and grovel A LOT. High angst and fluff towards the end would be cute. THANK YOUU

☆ moth to a flame — lewis hamilton x pregnant!reader

tags: jealous!lewis, pregnant!reader, angst, fluff

note: lewis is so the weeknd coded so i’ll name every fics about him as his songs

masterlist

»»————-　★　————-««

Your birthday party went well. Well, until your ex boyfriend showed up uninvited and Lewis went crazy about it. Apparently he just wanted to say hi, but the night ended with a physical fight.

When you came back home you were so mad you couldn’t look at him in the eyes, nor you could look at his wounded hand or at the cut on his eyebrow.

“Thank you for ruining my birthday.”

“Thank that prick of your ex.”

You threw your purse on the table. “Oh so it was his fault you pushed him first?”

“C’mon Y/N, he was clearly trying to fuck you.”

You turned to him with a disgusted look on your face. “Not even if he was the last man on earth. We were just talking. Can’t I talk to another man now?”

“He was standing way too close for someone who’s aware of your condition. I’m sorry, I saw red.”

Your gaze inevitably shifted down at your own belly. It’s been almost two months since you found out you were pregnant, so it wasn’t quite visible, though you could feel it very well. “And you think getting in the way between you and him couldn’t have hurt the baby?”

The realisation struck Lewis. “Oh my God, are you okay?” He tried to come closer but you stepped back.

“I’m tired of you being jealous of everyone. You’re supposed to trust me, you’re my husband. I…” You sensed tears in your eyes. Damn it, you didn’t want to cry again. “I should feel safe with you but instead I just feel anxious all the time.”

Lewis came close to hug you. “Don’t. Leave me alone.” You fought back, wiping your eyes with your hands, but that just caused him to strengthen the grip on you until you gave up and abandoned you in his arms. There was no point in trying to fight him.

“You’re right, that was stupid, I fucked up your birthday.” He laid a kiss on your forehead, slowly caressing your hair. “I’m gonna take you some water.”

He escorted you on the sofa and brought you a glass of water from the kitchen. He covered you with a blanket and sat next to you. He touched your cheek with his palm while you drank the water and then put it on the table in front of you.

“Better?” He asked.

“Better.” You looked at him. He had that Bambi look in those big brown eyes and trying to resist it was vain.

You suddenly realized his wounds were still hurting. You sighed. “Bring me bandages and something to disinfect that cut.”

“I’m good, I don’t need–“

“Lewis.” You interrupted him firmly.

He stayed silent. He then nodded, stood up and did as you told him. It certainly wasn’t a good time to contradict you.

When he came back on the couch, you began dabbing his face gently with a wad of cotton dipped in the solution. “He was such a dick.”

A corner of his mouth curved in a little agreeing smile. “Indeed he was.”

You carefully put a band-aid on his eyebrow, then proceeded bandaging his hand. He was watching every actions of yours. You understood he was actually sorry for what he did and you couldn’t help but forgive him. His intentions towards you were kind hearted after all.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re my life. You both are.” His bandaged hand slid down on your belly.

Your hand joined his. “And you’re mine. You know I wouldn’t trade you for anyone else in the world.”

You laid on the couch and he followed you, resting his head on your chest and his body next to yours, careful not to press his weight on your womb.

Your fingers travelled in his soft braided hair. “Besides, there’s nothing about him you should be jealous of. You have everything he doesn’t have.”

“You mean a beautiful wife?”

“I was about to say seven world championships, but I guess a beautiful wife will do as well.”

You both laughed.

He squeezed you more with his arms around your back, turning serious once again. “How are you feeling?” He asked, although he was the injured one.

“Don’t worry, it was nothing.” You stroke his back with your hand. He was so strong, it felt so good having him curled against you like that. You couldn’t imagine anybody else to build a family with.

“I was scared I hurt you. I don’t want to fight. Not only for the baby, I don’t ever want to fight with you.” He kissed your abdomen and buried his face in your neck.

“It’s okay, you could never hurt me.”

[silhouetteonpaper]

Public Figure

Summary: The world wants to know all about you as the newest addition to the Avengers. But what happens when a normal interview session digs up something you’ve never told a soul… not even Natasha? Natasha Romanoff x Reader WC: 1,616 Warnings: Mentions of killing

“A new addition to the Avengers leaves the city on the edge of their seats as we all wait to hear more about this young recruit. A public Q&A with the new Avenger in question is set to take place this week. Stay tuned for more coverage on all things current…”

You turn the volume of the TV down, your commitment to attending this public event starting to fill you with regret. It’s been a week of officially being a part of the team, and to say the city is going crazy would be an understatement.

“How’re you feeling?” Natasha sits down beside you on the couch, eyeing the TV as the newscaster spews more words about you and the rest of the team.

You shrug, rubbing your forehead to try and push away the increasing stress. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous.”

“It’s okay to be nervous.” She consoles you, but you’re aware she doesn’t know the real reason why you’re so anxious about the whole ordeal.

“What if the world isn’t ready for… someone like me?” You ask, partially rhetorically—but something in you hopes Nat has a real answer. The city has created turmoil over certain Avengers in the past, and the last thing you want is to cause commotion. All you’re trying to do is save the world, which you’d think would make everyone like you. Unfortunately, it’s never that simple.

Natasha takes a deep breath, seeming to search her brain for the right words. “Look, it’s up to you how you present yourself, but you can’t control how everyone else sees you. I know for a fact you’ve done so much good here, and that’s all I care about.” Nat offers you a smile.

You wish you could return it, but something inside you churns with guilt. “What about my past? All those records… someone’s likely to dig them up. It’ll make me look like the monster I used to be—or maybe still am…” You become lost in your own thoughts, the idea of someone digging up your past haunting your present.

A part of you has never let go of the person you used to be, in the off chance someone betrays your trust or sets you up for failure. You’re physically a different person now, making great waves with the Avengers, doing good all around the world—but that doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten about the person you left behind before moving into the compound.

“If they go low enough to do that to you, we can deal with it,” Natasha’s continued support pulls you out of your thoughts. “You know I understand that better than anyone. Do I look worried?” She raises her eyebrows.

You finally smile, shaking your head. “No, but that’s not fair because you never look worried.”

“Because there’s nothing to be worried about.”

The day of the event finally arrives, and you’re already on the verge of a breakdown. Natasha has prepped everything ahead of time so you wouldn’t have to use extra energy, starting with the freshly ironed outfit hanging in your closet.

You feel mostly prepared when it’s time to drive over to the venue, two of your biggest supporters right at your side. Tony and Natasha are even more ready than you are, the pair ready to defend any harmful questions and comments.

As great as it is to have such powerful people at your side, it only does so much to aid the growing nerves inside you. “Breathe. This’ll be over before you know it. We just need to answer some questions, let them get to know you, and then we’ll go celebrate.” Natasha explains with a calm voice.

You only manage to nod as you worry talking will expel all the air in your lungs. As soon as the sleek van arrives outside the tall pillared building, you’re greeted by a storm of paparazzi camera flashes. Nat warned you about this, but nothing could have prepared you for the intense crowd shoving cameras and microphones your way.

Tony attempts to hold off the extra pushy photographers, but he can only do so much swimming upstream. As soon as you make it into the building, there’s no time to take a breath as a crowd of important looking people sit staring directly at you.

Breath. Natasha mouths, offering yet another warm smile. You take a deep breath, heading forward with one foot in front of the other.

A facilitator guides the three of you to a table on a raised stage, the perfect amount of room for three to sit at the microphone-filled surface. You find a spot right in the middle, knowing exactly what’s coming the second you sit down.

“Question!”

“Over here!

“Miss, question!”

A caucus of voices fills the room, soon being silenced as the facilitator calls on one. “Ma’am, please describe to us the superhuman capabilities you bring to the team.”

You swallow thickly while leaning into the bouquet of microphones. “Well, uhm… I can manipulate energy. Turning off lights, powering machines, emitting beams of light… uh, yeah.” You lean back, taking another deep breath.

The sudden eruption of voices makes you jump, the facilitator following the same routine and calling on another person. “Does the team feel that these abilities have the possibility to be dangerous?”

You knew it was coming, a question like this. Natasha sees your frozen state and is quick to comment before you have the chance. “Anyone can be dangerous with the wrong intentions. We wouldn’t have recruited her if we didn’t feel she was a great asset. Not only is she doing well in training, she’s exceeding our original expectations.” You nod at her in thanks, getting one in return.

“What do you have to say about the murder of Jean Ridley?” An interviewer juts in. Your mouth goes dry, any response unable to form. The cacophony of voices fills the room as you go completely quiet. Jean Ridley, the young girl who was just trying to live her life, in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Back when you were on your streak of crime—before the Avengers took you in—you wouldn’t hesitate to demolish anything in your path to succeed. Including the little girl who didn’t even know what she was a part of. In an attempt to terminate a larger target, Jean just happened to be a casualty. An even larger casualty than you realized at the time.

“I implore you to ask our newest recruit questions about her current position, otherwise we’re done here.” Natasha’s voice brings you back from the overflowing guilt spreading across your mind like wildfire. You slide your hands under the table as they begin to shake, attempting to press them against your thighs before anyone has a chance to see the weak criminal that somehow made it onto the team.

Natasha looks at you and nods, her gaze quickly darting to your hands before she places her own on top. The shaking is soothed, but your nerves aren’t. The crowd of voices continues as the flood of worry destroys your mind. Everyone knows your past now, and there’s nothing you can do to hide it.

The rest of the interview session goes as smooth as it could have, the last of the inappropriate questions ending when Tony finally threatened to expose every document the council is holding, his defense being ‘if I can find it, it’s public information.’

The drive home is silent, but that’s not to say you don’t feel the pressure of Natasha’s eyes on you the whole way back. As soon as you arrive at the compound, you make a swift escape to your room. The only thing you want is to hide yourself from the rest of the world, your entire past seeming to chase you back into the dark abyss you came from.

The second your door slams shut, the noise stops. All the voices in your head screaming you’re a monster, you’ll never be a hero, get trapped in the hallway. The silence is peaceful, no shouting interviewers or civilians with snide questions. Just you and the cold surface of the door on your back.

But it’s unfortunately short lived as a soft knock sounds. You move away from the door, already guessing the person standing on the other side. The overwhelming tornado of insecurities topples into your room as the Widow walks in, a concerned expression painted on her face.

You already know what’s coming, a long winded pep-talk about how you’re more than your past. You don’t even bother lifting your head when Natasha bends down beside you.

“Look,” Her sudden firmness takes you by surprise. “What they said was wrong, but you can’t control what others say or do. You can either sit here and weep, or get out there and prove to them they’re wrong.”

Natasha’s words leave you speechless as your gaze slowly finds her. She’s looking directly at you, her green eyes warm yet expression stern. That’s when you realize you don’t have a choice.

Again and again, Natasha has directed you onto the best path. From recruiting you for the Avengers, to training you, to avoiding utter chaos in the face of the public eye—Nat’s proved she knows what she’s talking about.

“I know it’s hard to keep moving forward when the entire world is trying to paint you as something you’re not, but the only thing you can do is show them who you really are.” She affirms, her eyes still stuck on you.

And in this moment, you know she’s right. There’s no reason to sit here in self pity, rehashing the past that won’t ever just disappear no matter how hard you shove it down. The only thing you can do—the only thing left to do—is prove them all wrong. To show them the hero you can truly be.

[blkdaddie]

Empregnas University: Code Gold

I shifted in my seat as Professor Roca droned on. As a second-year law student class, it's important to have good notes but my concentration is shot today. The baby has been sitting low in my pelvis for a week with no signs of labor. At least I can breathe a bit better but a 10 lb baby plus sitting for hours is murder on my back. I feel the now familiar urge to pee, and ease my heft to my feet. Prof. Roca doesn’t miss a beat of his lecture – with almost 40% of our student body pregnant at any time they’re pretty easygoing about bathroom trips during class. I take a few shuffling steps, knowing my waddle has become exaggerated with this bowling ball of a kid between my hips, when I feel a sudden wetness. I try to waddle faster mortified that I’ve wet myself, when a contraction seizes me and I double over with a grunt. “Holy shit, Derek’s finally having his kid!”. If I weren’t in so much pain I would laugh; I realize the wetness is at my rear – my waters have broken.

Prof. Roca finally pauses his speech on the intersection of artificial intelligence and ethics, turning his attention to me with a sigh. “I really thought we’d get through one semester without a labor starting in class. Damn nuisance, these kids.”  I don’t know if he’s referring to me or the baby, but I’m too panicked to care. This baby feels like a boulder between my hips and I sink to my knees aided by a classmate,  Anthony. I distractedly notice he has a slight belly, and he’s clearly freaking out, probably imagining his own labor.  I’m too breathless to reassure him.

Prof. Roca crosses to an old-school landline phone on the wall and I understand why it’s still there when he picks up the receiver. “Code Gold, Memorial Hall Room 242. And send janitorial, he’s leaking all over the place.”

The pressure is immense. I feel like I’m floating outside of my body as I watch my belly warp from the force of my muscles all moving the baby down.   “Derrick, just sit tight for a minute, health center is sending someone with a wheelchair. Now, where were we…”  Professor prepares to continue his lesson but I can’t bite back the pained cry that escapes my lips. I have an overwhelming need to push, and start scrambling for the waistband of my jeans. “Um, professor, I don’t think he has a minute!”  Anthony awkwardly kneels beside me and I feel cool air against my ass as I push my pants lower. A couple of classmates who have delivered before rush to my side, but most sit there gawking. We all know anal birth is normal and natural but seeing it live and in person is some wild shit.   James, who I know had twins last year, probes to check my dilation, and Andre, who has a toddler, starts talking to me softly.  “Bro, you gotta focus. Quit screaming and breathe. Da fuck is wrong with you, coming to class like this?”  He shakes his head but looks resolved when James signals something from over my shoulder. “Next contraction, fuckin’ push.”    My belly hangs low and heavy as I sit back on my haunches, looking for any relief, but it’s futile.  I’m terrified but my body takes over. One push. Then another. Unbearable burning. On the third push the baby’s head is out and I can feel it wiggling. The sensation is surreal but I don’t have time to ponder. I bear down again and the baby slides out into James’ hands. I feel a sudden physical emptiness but my heart is bursting when I hear a mewling, then a cry. My classmates help me lie back; I’m shivering as I come down from the adrenaline high, but my grasp on my wet squawking baby is confident and secure. Professor Roca gives up, slamming his laptop shut. “Forget it. Class dismissed. See you on Thursday.”

[getosugurugirlfriend]

hii, could i have a NANA headcanons of reader being ren's younger sister, who is born deaf & mute? (maybe there's a bit of shin x reader as well👀) thank you so much! have a nice day :)))

Shin x deaf & mute! reader, Ren x younger sister reader

Hey anon, if you wanted something more specific feel free to also elaborate more in chat with me in private, I am not judging requests. <3

a/n: Correct me if there are misinformations, because I am not deaf and mute, but I can kinda relate to it, because I am a semi verbal autistic person and I can only hear on one ear, so I tried my best. I tried to get into the disability with this. Shin and the reader are in a relationship in here.

So read this as the reader and shin being around the same age. I love my boy.

Request are open, but it will take me some time, because I am changing schools atm :).

Will proofread it tomorrow.

masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── Ren ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

✮ So Ren will be used to taking care of you, because he is the older brother. I see him as a protective brother, so he will make sure that everybody is treating you right and will correct people if they are saying something hurtful.

✮ If you get harassed in school about being deaf and mute, he will take action and yes, it’s in a physical way.

✮ Ren is a loving brother, he will give you the world, because he wasn’t treated well in his childhood, when he was young.

✮ When you grew up, he will learn sign language along with you, so he is able to communicate with you in every way possible.

✮ If you are feeling down because of your disability, he will confront you about it and will make sure that you know, that it is normal to have something special about you.

✮ He is probably a brother that will show you physical affection, to make you feel more grounded and will hug you and cuddle with you.

✮ If you need a hearing aid, he will do anything to provide you with one, even tho your family (I mean it’s probably only you and him I’m sorry) are having financial issues.

✮ He will inform people about your disability, so you don’t have the need to do it yourself and avoiding the chance to make you uncomfortable.

✮ He wants you to feel like a ‘normal’ kid.

✮ If you have problem making friends, I can see him as someone, that will drag you to shin, because he found out from Nana, that her band member is in your age.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── Shin ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

✫ I can only see Shin as someone that wants and will learn more about the disability, how to comfort you, how to properly handle it and how you want to be treated. He wants you to elaborate everything, if you can read lips, if you are able to use sign language or you are able to hear, but not well.

✫ He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, as in making you feel like you are different than others, so he will do research.

✫ My boy will learn sign language for you (if it’s the way you want to communicate with others), he wants to take the effort to properly have a conversation to you.

✫ When he first met you, he heard that he should avoid mumbling and covering his mouth. If you didn’t catch what he said, he takes his time and will repeat it for you.

✫ Shin will be having conversations with you from eye to eye, he will not see you as something less or as someone that can’t do something on their own. While talking he will keep still, to make it easier for you to understand him.

✫ He will make sure that you are in an environment with not much background noises taking place.

✫ When he got to know you better, at first he obviously couldn’t do sign language, but he will be very excited to show you the new words he learned (such a puppy), you mentioned to him before that he should use gestures and express his body language a lot, so he did.

✫ He will be a bit self conscious, because he thinks he won’t be doing a good job at learning about it, but he actually does really well with it.

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[whimsicalpolitical]

if ur comfortable (ofc it’s okay if not) could you write one where reader self harms and matty helps her to take care of it and comfort her <3

bandage- Matty Healy

content warning: self harm, blood, sharp objects, mention of heroin, comfort

You think he’s gone for hours when you go into the bathroom.

Your wrist trembles, the razor blade clutched in your hand, its cold, unforgiving edge resting against your skin. The sting is sharp at first, like the bite of a winter wind, but then a warm trickle follows, a red ribbon unfurling down your arm. Each cut is a release, a distraction from the numbness that envelops your heart. You watch the blood with a detached fascination, feeling the pain blur into a strange, sick relief.

It's not the first time, and you doubt it will be the last. You can't pinpoint exactly when it started, only that the ache inside became too much to bear without a physical outlet. The irony of using pain to drown out other pain isn't lost on you. Ironic, perhaps, but effective. The physical pain is a distraction from the mental torment, a way to exert some control when everything else feels so chaotically out of reach.

The sound of the front door creaking open barely registers at first. You’re lost in the rhythm, the methodical slicing that offers a temporary escape. The routine of it almost calms you, but then reality crashes in. Matty is supposed to be gone. Hours at the studio, a late-night session, anything to keep him out of the house and away from you. You were safe in your solitude, at least for a while.

“We finished early tonight, love,” his voice rings out, casual, unaware. Panic surges through you, hot and immediate. The bathroom door swings open with a creak that echoes in your ears, and there he is, a silhouette against the light of the hallway.

“Fucking Christ!” Matty’s eyes widen, horror mixing with confusion as he takes in the scene: the blood, the razor, the mess of tissues. He rushes forward, his movements frantic, and the door slams shut behind him, cutting you off from the rest of the world.

“Why- what the fuck are you doing baby?” His voice cracks, and you can see the tears welling up in his eyes, the disbelief etched into his features. He kneels beside you, his hands reaching out but stopping just short of touching. He’s always so careful, so afraid of making things worse.

“I didn’t know you were coming back,” you manage to choke out, your voice breaking. It’s a weak explanation, as if the timing is the issue, as if it changes anything.

“Shh, s’arlight,” he says, his voice softer now, gentler. He grabs a towel, pressing it gently against your arm, and you flinch at the contact, the pain now mingling with a shame so deep it feels like drowning. His hands are shaking, and you can see the fear in his eyes, the desperation.

“Why, love? Why would you do this to yourself?” His voice is a whisper, a plea for understanding that you can’t give. You don’t know how to explain the darkness that wraps around your mind, the weight that makes every day a struggle.

“It... it helps,” you mutter, the words feeling hollow, inadequate. “It makes me feel something.”

“You don’t have to hurt yourself to feel something. There’s so much more to life, so much more to feel. I love you, okay? Please, just let me help.”

Matty’s eyes soften with a look of understanding, a look that tells you he’s been where you are now. You know his story, the scars he carries on his own skin, a reminder of battles fought in the quiet corners of his mind. He’s talked about it before, in hushed tones and late-night conversations, how he once turned to self-harm to cope, to find some semblance of control.

“Here, let me clean this up.”

He fetches the first-aid kit from under the sink, carefully tending to your wounds. His touch is tender, his hands working with the precision of someone who’s done this too many times before, both for himself and for others.

As he wraps your arm in a clean bandage, his fingers linger on your skin, a silent promise that he’s here for you, that you’re not alone.

“C’mere, love.” He sits beside you on the cold tile floor, his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. You bury your face in his chest, and for the first time in a long while, you let yourself cry. His hand strokes your hair, his voice a soothing murmur in your ear, telling you that it’s okay, that you’ll get through this together. “Please don’t do this again, alright? You have to tell me when you think about doing this.”

He pulls your head back and wipes your tears with his thumb, keeping them on your cheek. “I love you so much, d’you know that?”

You nod in his hands, your lip still trembling.

“Hey, we’ll figure this out,” he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. “You don’t have to do this on your own. We’ll get through it. One step at a time.” His words are a lifeline, pulling you back from the edge. For a moment, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to face this alone.

He holds you close, your tears soaking into his shirt, but he doesn’t mind. He’s been here before, in this place of darkness, and he knows what it means to be pulled out, to feel a lifeline tethered to something real.

“Let’s get you to bed, yeah?” he murmurs, his voice a soft whisper in your ear. “We can talk more there. It’s warmer and, you know, less like a crime scene.”

You nod against his chest, your strength ebbing away, leaving you exhausted. He lifts you with surprising ease, his arms firm and secure around you. It’s not just about the physical support; it’s about the trust, the belief that he won’t let you fall, not now, not ever.

“Alright, s’go,” Matty gives you a small, reassuring smile before shifting to scoop you up into his arms. He lifts you effortlessly, his strength a comfort as he carries you out of the bathroom and down the hallway to your bedroom.

He lays you gently on the bed, the softness of the mattress a stark contrast to the cold, hard tiles of the bathroom floor. He pulls the covers up around you, tucking you in with a care that makes your heart swell. He sits on the edge of the bed, his hand resting on your arm, his touch warm and steady.

“Do you need anything, love?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. “Anything at all? Just say the word.”

You shake your head, a small, tired smile playing on your lips. “No, I’m alright. Just... stay with me, please.”

“F’course, I’m not going anywhere,” he replies, his voice gentle but firm. He leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, the warmth of his lips lingering long after he pulls away. “I’ll always be here for you. Always.”

He moves to lie beside you, pulling you close so that your head rests against his chest. You can hear the steady beat of his heart, a comforting rhythm that lulls you into a sense of calm. His arms wrap around you, holding you tight, as if he can protect you from the darkness that threatens to consume you.

“We’ll get through this,” he murmurs, “one day at a time yeah? And I’ll be here every step of the way.”

You nod against his chest, your eyes growing heavy with sleep trying to pull you in. “I’m sorry Matty.”

“Hey no, s’not your fault.” His voice breaks and if you were a little more tired you might’ve missed it. “You don’t ever have to apologize, never, s’normal to struggle with life. I get it, I mean I fucking did heroin, not any better.” He says.

“What I’m trying to say s’ that everyone tries to cope differently, we just have to look f’ another way to cope, yeah?”

You nod, “how did you find another way?”

“I did horse therapy, shit was crazy, but it did help. I had my guys, fans but most of all I had you.” You don’t notice how his hands find its way over your bandage on your arms.

You hum, “I love you, Matty, I promise I’ll try.”

“S’ my girl,” he kisses your nose, “and even if you can’t, you always need to tell me.”

“Okay,” you whisper, “can you tell me about horse therapy?”

Matty chuckles, knowing that you just want him to talk you to sleep.

“Well,” he starts, “for the first three or four days it was me stood in a field rolling my eyes next to a horse.”

You smile to yourself, falling deeper against him and his soothingly rubs never stop as he goes on.

“There was a guy and he was literally telling me to ‘talk to the horse’ and I was like ‘ah alright’ because it’s obviously ridiculous.”

“So he leaves me alone and I’m like ‘hello’,” and the horse obviously didn’t say anything.”

You appreciate when Matty opens up and talks to you about his past because he had his struggles as well.

“So I was talking to it for a bit and I was getting frustrated and then he put me in a round pen…”

you don’t know when you feel asleep and Matty knows you’re going say you’re sorry because he was talking to you, but he doesn’t mind. He wants you to rest.

“Ah, I hope you dream f’ me and the horse,” he whispers, kissing your lips softly before closing his eyes as well.

[yuurei20]

Leona Info Compilation part 28: Leona, Epel and Vil (pt 1)

We do not see Leona and Epel interact much outside of Halloween when a possessed Epel “boops” Leona on the nose, but Epel speaks of him often: He says that, while Leona spends a lot of time during Spelldrive club practice lounging, he is always paying close attention to them.

When Floyd ties Epel to a gravestone to attract ghosts Leona is quick to go to his rescue, with Ace pointing out, “You talk like you don’t care, but the first thing you did was untie Epel. You actually look out for your own people, don’t you.”

There is a vignette where Epel is reading a book as he walks, which causes him to run directly into Leona. A nearby Pomefiore student expresses worry but Leona does not react, and Rook observes, “A king knows how to be magnanimous.”

During his birthday Epel says that he would want Leona to be his older brother for how he his laid-back personality is so different from his physical appearance, how his so intelligent, so cool, how he is always looking out for him during Spelldrive club practices and is a leader that can be relied upon.

(Interestingly Idia claims that, while both Vil and Leona are “tanks”, neither are suited to leadership roles, perhaps betraying how little he understands his fellow classmates.)

Epel says that he likes “cool, strong animals like tigers and leopards,” so he might just have a thing for large cats in general.

Vil compliments Leona almost as much as he insults him, often in the same line of dialogue, saying “The only thing you have going for you is a handsome face” he could “make an eye-catching main model if we leverage that air of smug superiority he gives off," “One of Leona’s precious few fortes is is the sheer power of his presence”, and “Leona is little more than a good-looking layabout.”

A kanji-based joke on JP asking Leona if he isn’t sure he’s actually an egg and not a prince at all (the kanji for egg and prince are very similar) was changed to comparing him to a jester on EN due to language restrictions.

(Yana has a thing for intentionally incorporating egg references into the game wherever she can, more here)

Leona and Vil have a lot of overlap during Phantom Bride where they both refuse to go to Idia’s aid, and when Vil changes his pronouns and speech patterns in the “role” of a prince for Eliza Leona responds, “Who are you and what have you done with Vil?" and "I’d take the regular you over this slime ball.”

(Due to language restrictions this interaction had to be rewritten on EN.)

When Eliza is explaining how they simply do not compare to her “darling Idia” both students interrupt with the insistence that they are “Obviously superior!”, while Jade observes, “Looks like they’ve lost sight of our objective.”

Both Vil and Leona express annoyance about being dismissed in favor of Idia.

When Idia begs them for help they respond, “It sounds like you’ve found someone who loves you in spite of your bad attitude” and “Good on you for finding your soulmate.”

(Leona is rejected for not realizing that Eliza expected him to join her in a duet. In a moment of foreshadowing Leona says, “That shut-in prolly can’t even sing!” In reference to Idia, but it is revealed during the Glorious Masquerade event that he can.)

[nostalgic-woodwind]

It Takes a Hotel to Raise a Cub

Chapter 3 - Something That Can Help

Plot: Crymini gets her hand patched up, and Charlie discovers a treatment plan that can help her.

Content Warning: Mention of physical/corporal punishment, mention of abuse, trauma, injury, outburst of anger

Once Husk and Angel arrived at the hotel infirmary, the spider set Crymini down on one of the beds.

“Alright, lemme take a look,” Vaggie said.

“Can I fix Crymini’s hand?” Niffty asked eagerly. “Can I? Can I? Can I? Can I?”

“Uh… well, you can hand me the supplies I need.”

“Okay!”

Niffty sped off to grab the first-aid kit while Vaggie carefully removed the glove from Crymini’s paw. The cyclops quickly returned with the first-aid kit in her arms.

Vaggie got to work patching up the hyena’s paw. Crymini sat there in silence. She knew that she was probably going to be in huge trouble for the stunt she pulled, but she didn’t care. She was used to being punished at this point.

“Alright, I fixed it up for you,” Vaggie spoke after bandaging Crymini’s hand. “You’ve gotta quit getting yourself hurt.”

Crymini rolled her eyes as she pulled her hand away.

“Gee, not even a thank you?”

“Want a sticker or a lollipop?” Niffty offered as she held up a box of colorful stickers and Dum-Dum suckers.

“No, how old do you think I am? Five?” Crymini scoffed.

“Okay, more for me! I can use them for my bug traps!”

Niffty ran off while Charlie entered the room.

“Is Crymini going to be alright?” Charlie asked.

“Yeah, she’s gonna be fine. The cut wasn’t deep, and the bleeding stopped,” Vaggie responded.

“Crymini, why’d you sneak off like that?” Angel questioned. “We didn’t know where you were. You could’ve gotten yourself more hurt than you already are!”

“And why would you steal alcohol from the bar?” Husk added sternly. “You know that you’re not old enough to be drinking.”

No response came out of Crymini’s mouth. She stared at the floor as the grown-ups continued lecturing her about the dangers of what she did, about how underage drinking was dangerous, along with sneaking out of the hotel. God, this was bringing the hyena back. She felt uneasy. Her heart began to race. Her body started to tense up. She could feel herself getting angry and overwhelmed. She was sick of being bitched at.

“I get it…” Crymini grumbled.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Husk asked.

“I said I get it!”

“Excuse me, we’re not gonna have you talking to any of us like that.”

“We’re trying to help you get better,” Angel scolded.

“You guys aren’t my parents! Why should I have to fucking listen to any of you, anyway?” Crymini yelled.

The hyena got up from the infirmary bed and then stormed upstairs, not before punching a hole through the wall with her non-injured hand.

Charlie, Vaggie, Angel, and Husk stared at each other, thinking to themselves “What the hell just happened?”

“Maybe I need to go talk to Crymini,” Charlie said as she started to leave, only for Vaggie to stop her.

“Why don’t we just let her cool off?” Vaggie suggested. “You can’t reason with someone when their temper’s at an all-time high.”

“But she looked so upset.”

“I know, we all know. However, sometimes, you just need to let people simmer down for a while.”

“Alright, but I wish I could at least talk to her,” Charlie sighed sadly. “I’ll get Niffty to patch up the wall.”

When Charlie and Vaggie walked out of the room, Husk and Angel were still speechless. They looked at each other again, not sure of how to react or respond to what happened in the last hour.

Meanwhile, Crymini slammed the door behind her once she reached her bedroom. She didn’t feel sorry about what she did. She was tired of getting pushed around like a child. She was tired of these childish redemption exercises. She was tired of everything. However, her stomach began to turn once her mind began to imagine the worst, once again thinking of the possible consequences she might receive after all the trouble she caused. She wouldn’t be surprised if the hotel had corporal punishment as discipline. Crymini then slid down the door and curled up into a ball. Why did she have to make everyone around her so frustrated with her? Why can’t she just go back in time and redo everything? She didn’t choose this life of suffering, but she deserved it. After all, it was her fault for making God angry.

—————————

Charlie was looking through her files in the office, trying to figure out a solution for Crymini. She couldn’t help but mentally replay what happened today, nor figure out why the hyena had been so callous ever since her first day at the hotel. Charlie made a promise to help all the sinners in need, but she nor the hotel has ever dealt with someone so stubborn and defiant. Well, Angel was stubborn and defiant when he first joined the hotel. However, he at least participated in the redemption exercises. Where was the anger coming from, and why was Crymini so mad and reclusive? If only there was a way to help the hyena…

“Honey, Husk and Angel are here,” Vaggie said as she walked in, interrupting Charile’s train of thought. “They want to discuss something.”

“Oh, they do? Sure, they can come in,” Charlie nodded.

Vaggie opened the door, allowing Husk and Angel to step inside the office.

“Hey, guys! I’m glad you could make it,” Charlie greeted as Husk and Angel took their seats. “So, what’s going on?”

“It’s about Crymini,” Angel said.

“You guys have been thinking about her, too?”

“Yeah, Angel and I talked a bit at the bar and wondered what we could do,” Husk said.

“Crymini’s been hurting herself in more ways than one,” Angel added. “She’s… unfortunately, she’s starting to become kinda like me in a way…”

Husk patted Angel’s shoulder sympathetically.

“There’s gotta be a way for Crymini to stop self-destructing…” Charlie rubbed her chin as she heard a knock on the main door downstairs. “Excuse me for a moment, guys.”

Charlie went downstairs and opened the door. She looked down and spotted a bunch of letters scattered across the ground. Knowing Hell, it doesn’t always have great postal service.

“Huh, looks like the mail came,” the princess said as she scanned through the envelopes. She then paused once she saw a light purple one, which was addressed from a therapist named “Dr. Lullabi” from the Sloth Ring. She opened the envelope and noticed a letter, along with a pamphlet inside. She scanned through the letter and found something interesting.

“Hey, whatcha got?” Vaggie asked as she came downstairs.

“I think I found something that can help Crymini.”

—————————

Crymini was scrolling through her phone, looking through her photos of her and Raven and Ash. She then heard a knock on her door.

“Hey, Crymini. Charlie wants you in her office,” Vaggie said from the other side.

Crymini’s stomach dropped. She knew that she was going to be punished for what happened today.

“Tell her I’m not here,” the hyena responded.

“She said it’s important.”

“If it’s another one of those redemption exercises, I’m not interested.”

“It’s not that, it’s a meeting, and Charlie needs you right away.”

Knowing there was no way out of this, Crymini groaned as she got up and walked with Vaggie to Charlie’s office. On the way there, the hyena tried to keep her cool, pretending to still have her I-don’t-care attitude. However, on the inside, she couldn’t help but feel that familiar feeling of anxiety. If only she hadn’t snuck off and isolated herself… if only she hadn’t had such a bad attitude… if only she…

“Hey, we’re here,” Vaggie said as she opened the door.

Crymini stepped inside the office, and her eyes widened when she saw Angel and Husk with Charlie.

“What’s going on? An intervention or something?” Crymini questioned as she took a seat.

“Not an intervention, per se, but it’s a special kind of redemption exercise for you,” Charlie said. “Before we talk about it, we should talk about your behavior here at the hotel. We’ve noticed that you’ve been excluding yourself from the activities provided, and you’ve been down on not only everything but yourself as well.”

Crymini just shrugged and rolled her eyes.

“Have you always felt this way here and on Earth when you were alive?”

Another shrug and eye roll.

“I guess my childhood was shitty… my family was shitty… lots of shame and hitting…” Crymini admitted.

“We’re sorry,” Charlie apologized. “You shouldn’t have been hurt by those who raised you, but your actions have shown how you’ve been possibly coping, and it’s not really healthy for you to live that way. Sneaking out, underage drinking, having a bad attitude…”

“I’m a grown-up like you guys,” Crymini rudely interrupted. “I died when I was nineteen, and I’ve been here for twenty-eight years.”

“But you’re stuck in the age that you died, so you’re still nineteen,” Husk pointed out.

“Oh my God…”

“Anyway, moving on,” Charlie said. “Instead of punishing you, Vaggie and I’ve talked with Husk and Angel and we decided for you to do a special redemption exercise.

Charlie pulled out a pamphlet and handed it to the hyena, who had a befuddled look when she saw the title “Age Regression and You” and the picture of Dr. Lullabi — a pastel-pink turtle demon — on the cover.

“The fuck is this?” Crymini questioned as she read the content inside the pamphlet.

“This is age regression,” Vaggie said. “Age regression is when your mind regresses to a younger mindset, and you’re sometimes taken care of by a caregiver or more.”

“What… what does all of this mean?”

“It means that your headspace can go back to the equivalence of a younger age, such as a kid or a toddler. Some people’s mindsets sometimes go back to as young as infancy. Some regressors — or littles — play with toys, watch cartoons, read children’s books, et cetera.”

Crymini was gobsmacked at that point. Does that mean…?

“Am… am I going to have to act like a baby?!” Crymini glared.

“Well, no, not per se, but this is more of giving yourself a second chance at childhood,” Charlie explained. “To let yourself be reparented, to—“

Crymini ripped the pamphlet in half and became pissed.

“Fuck no! You’re really going to pull the whole ‘act like a baby, get treated like one’ punishment on me, aren’t you?” the hyena yelled.

“Crymini, calm down. It’s not a punishment, we promise,” Angel reassured.

“Angel’s right. Age regression’s not a disciplinary action for what you did, but rather a treatment plan to help you cope and regulate your emotions better,” Charlie added. “You don’t have to regress to infancy or a toddler’s headspace. It’s your regression.”

Crymini groaned as she buried her face in her hands.

“And to add, Angel and Husk have agreed to be your caregivers,” Vaggie stated.

“What? Them? The drunk bartender and the porn star caring for me like I’m a kid all over again?” Crymini scoffed. “Why can’t you and the princess do it since it was your idea?”

“As much as Vaggie and I would love to care for you and your little self, we’re busy with the hotel and running the redemption exercises with the rest of the residents here,” Charlie said.

“Plus, Husk and I’ve had our fair share of struggling with unhealthy coping mechanisms,” Angel informed the hyena.

“We’re still helping each other out, and we’re gonna do the same for you,” Husk said.

Crymini rolled her eyes and slouched in her chair, hiding her face in the hood part of her hoodie. She really can’t fucking believe this. She’s really going to have to go through with being watched over like a fucking kid. She’s really going to have to be a baby… she’s going to probably have to relive her childhood… she felt fucking sick.

[possibilistfanfiction]

another wn prompt “brusque”

[also a lil snippet from part 4 of girls against god, shoutout to camila & mobility aids]

/

camila lounges better than you had expected, honestly, much to your delight.

‘so,’ she says, stretched out on one of the chairs on your patio in a pair of bea’s shorts and one of the t-shirts that’s so old you don’t know who it originally belonged to, feet bare, ‘how’s your back?’

‘well —‘ you think about lying, but this is camila, so it would both be wrong and completely unbelievable anyway — ‘pretty bad.’

she hums. ‘and what are your plans to make that better?’

you don’t have any, really, because bea is trying so hard not to push and you want to live in denial as long as possible. ‘i guess talk to dr. salvius. last time she said she would come up with some interventions that might help.’

‘last time, as in when you went three months ago?’

‘uh, yeah?’

camila sits up. ‘beatrice is so in love with you, you know.’ the clench of her jaw is a little unexpected, her next words brusque. ‘i love you. we all love you, ava.’

you feel yourself pout but you can’t help it. ‘you don’t sound like you love me right now.’

camila stands and moves to sit on the end of your lounge chair, takes your hand. ‘there’s no shame in needing any help, with anything.’

‘i just hate —‘ you wipe sudden, embarrassed tears from your cheeks, and camila waits patiently — ‘i hate feeling like a burden.’

‘ava,’ camila says, ‘you won a war.’

‘yeah,’ you say, ‘and now, sometimes, i can’t even get out of bed. i have this beautiful partner who basically gave up her entire life for me, and this beautiful house in, like, paradise, and it’s just —‘

camila rubs gently up and down your spine while you get your breathing back under control.

‘i swear to you, ava, none of us, especially not beatrice, think any less of you because you’re having problems with pain and mobility.’

‘i — i have a history of that being the opposite.’

she nods calmly, her hand still steadily wrapped around yours. ‘i hear that. but, and i know you know this, but — when you were younger, you deserved so much better.’

‘i guess.’

camila squeezes your hand. ‘first, you deserved care. more than anything. but, practically, you deserved physical therapy, and an electric wheelchair, and all kinds of adaptive resources. you shouldn’t have had to stay in one room, just because you didn’t have the same mobility as me, or as bea.’

bea has told you the same thing, mostly gently, sometimes with a frustrated edge to her voice that betrayed the deep hurt she feels on your behalf, after all this time.

‘and i know we can’t make up for the abuse you had to go through, for so long, but i know that bea is desperate for you to get all the help you need. she isn’t saying it, because you two are frustratingly respectful of each other’s boundaries, but it’s eating at her.’

you sniffle. ‘i know that. she thinks she’s very measured but sometimes i can read her like a book.’

 ‘you know, before you were together, every time she’d check in from switzerland, all she could talk about was you. always exasperated, but always about all the ways you’d made her laugh.’

’that’s so gay.’

‘ava.’

’sorry, sorry.’

‘what i’m trying to say,’ camila tells you, intent, ‘is that so many people with spinal cord injuries live really cool, really normal lives — with way less pain than you’re fighting your way through now, and all kinds of cool aids that i’m certain dr. salvius would love to create with you. we’re not going to let your life be less full or smaller or less happy because you need help sometimes.’

‘i’ll call her tomorrow,’ you say, and camila smiles. 

‘good, you absolutely should.’

‘will bea be mad that we talked.’

she shrugs. ‘i don’t really care. someone had to talk to you if she wouldn’t, and it was either me or lilith.’

‘terrifying prospect,’ you say, and then salute her. ‘thank you for your service.’

camila laughs. ‘i would say anytime, but i’m here in your gorgeous, ridiculous beach house in this even more ridiculous city, and i’d really like to just think about margaritas from now on.’

‘that,’ you say, ‘can certainly be arranged.’

bea wanders up from the beach, her wetsuit pulled down around her waist, perfect abs on display, her bikini top a little askew, a tattoo peaking out from the wetsuit along her hip. you stare, unabashedly, because she loves you and she never wanted, really, to give up her life to god anyway, you know by now well enough. there’s freckles all over her shoulders and her chest and she’s still a little wet, smelling like the sea, but you welcome the kiss she drops to the top of your head after she props her board up against the wall. 

camila gags when you simply stare at her above you, and you roll your eyes; bea just ignores it.

‘all right?’ she asks.

‘great,’ you say. ‘hey, after you shower, can you grab my cane before we walk to get drinks? camila has requested only thinking about margaritas for her time here.’

camila smiles at her hands and bea pauses, stock still, before she seems to whir back to life. ‘yes, of course,’ she says, like it’s the simplest and most frequent thing you ever ask for. she can’t help herself, though: she brings a hand to the back of your head tenderly and you lean forward to kiss her hip, just over the ink there. you let everything settle, and then bea nods resolutely. 

‘well, camila, i’ll spare you ava’s oogling and shower indoors.’

‘thank you for that; i’d rather not throw up today.’

‘hey,’ you say, put your hands up, ‘it’s not my fault bea had an outdoor shower installed for this express purpose.’

bea scoffs. ‘you asked for the shower.’

‘you could have said no.’ you shrug. ‘but you didn’t.’

camila groans. ‘please, beatrice, go shower. you both owe me tacos now too.’

‘fine, fine,’ bea says, but she winks in your direction and strips her wetsuit off the rest of the way and then walks inside without a second glance, shooting off an obnoxious little wave.

‘do not follow her,’ camila says. ‘i’m jetlagged and starving, and i don’t want to wait another hour before we get food.’

‘if you think we need an hour you’re insane.’

‘ava.’

‘fine,’ you say, lie back against where camila is sitting to essentially force her to cuddle with you, which she does without any protest. ‘i will not make love to my beautiful, sweet partner who only continues to grow hotter by the day.’

‘i’ll call lilith right now. she’ll teleport here in a second.’

‘no, no,’ you say, pat her hand. ‘there’s no need for that.’

camila laughs and you both doze off a little for a few minutes in the sun before bea touches your shoulder to shake you gently awake. she’s dressed in a pale linen short set, the top few buttons of her loose shirt mercifully undone, and you know she’s not wearing a bra. her hair is long, blonde, swept over her shoulder in waves ever-present whenever you’re by the ocean. 

‘you’re so beautiful,’ you say, and she kisses you before handing you the cane you’d reluctantly gotten a few weeks ago, when your flareup had been so bad you couldn’t even make it down the stairs in your house.

‘i’m awake,’ camila says. ‘so please, no funny business.’

bea, even in her loose, light clothes and sunny hair, still stands prim and proper, like she’s been caught doing something wrong. camila seems to sense that, and so she stands and taps bea’s butt, then laughs and says, ‘okay, time to buy me everything for dinner.’

bea nods, and her shoulders relax after she takes a deep breath: usually, the days stretch on and she smiles more than she ever has, with her strong thighs and the aikido classes she teaches to little kids at the dojo, the tattoos she quietly loves getting, the drag brunch you go to once a month on sunday. most of the time, she loves you so deeply — quiet, still, but with a reverence she hadn’t allowed herself at first, and a joy that tinges everything yellow like the sun — and camila smiles when bea settles and takes your hand. 

you grasp the cane in the other, and you walk the few blocks to your favorite place, camila and bea chattering the whole time. it’s easier, admittedly so, and when you walk home, after the sun has set, it’s a little easier then too.

[eatmangoesnekkid]

When you are multidimensionally birthing, when you are creating, producing, curating, or sculpting signature work, you may have birthing pains that remind you of a mother in labor. I have assisted in delivering a baby alongside my friend who was working as a midwife at the time, and I am grateful to have experienced the primality and passion of a natural birth experience. I wasn't professionally trained to be an aide, an unofficial doula, but she and the mother and father trusted my temperament, breath, and heart to be of service which was more than enough reason for me to say "YES!" to their request. Of course a mother laboring a child spirit into this reality is a high octane energy that nothing could EVER compare to, and it was also very real for me in a deeply spiritual way. I didn't feel physical pain, but spiritual/energetic, (meta)physical, the incredibly overlooked and undocumented kind of birthing pains I felt. Earlier this evening I had the deepest guttural cry. I was wailing, sobbing and making loud heaving sounds while profusely shaking and unaware that I was bent over in a deep squat position. My partner was at an event and I knew if called, would have been worried and came home right away and I really didn't want that to happen. I really didn't want to talk to anyone to be honest. What calmed me into harmony was realizing that I was squatting like a sovereign mother about to have an unassisted birth. With my postural awareness and growing comfort in a resting deep squat position like the Grandmothers who flexibly squatted while prepping and cooking garri or egusi soup on the ground, I felt primordially held and cared for. After thumbing through my body of work and being taken aback by the content and page petals, feeling the potency, vulnerability, and magic and at the same time, feeling devastated and a bit scared, all I could do was surrender and sob. Encoded within our the female line and feminine psyche is a fear of being harmed whenever we speak uncommon truths that change lives, expands hearts, and free minds. These memories can put us in unconscious "fight or flight" or freeze states. I can't explain the polarity much more than my exhilaration and excitement was coupled with deep grief and devastation like "will someone come for me?" Weep, weep! There is some subtle part of my system--your system-- that remembers --this ancient fear fermenting in the female line. A signature body of body full of divine wisdom and here I feel mixed dense contradictory emotion. The last time I held this level of mixed emotion was in 2006 when my mum transitioned from breast cancer. As her primary caregiver, I felt a sense of relief that she was no longer in chronic pain but was also incredibly devastated and couldn't imagine living life without her. Being able to feel what we are actually feeling is an immeasurable blessing that I won't ever take for granted. Deeply listening to our tissues and becoming emotionally attuned to the needs of our body are gifts we give back to a world that lacks deep feeling and deep listening skills. This way our female tissues- breasts, vulva, and vaginal canal--and heart do not become contracted and hardened. And the accompanying nerve endings do not numb out. Nor does our nervous system normalize dysregulation. Like "this is it, India. Time to let it go." And I wailed and screamed because my body felt safe to release what was there. I feel tears bubbling up again as I type. It's all stunning and achy. This too is part of the love story. When there is new love, when you meet a potential new lover, there is also this fear of waiting-for-the- other-shoe-to-drop so I feel like the presence of oppositional states are a kind of creational thrust of the universe, similar to feminine and masculine energies elevating in divine union.  I know authors are usually not emoting their authoring struggles online- I'm not like them.  I live with an immense amount of self-generating pleasurable energy streaming through my body and on the rare occasion pain arrives at this time in my life, it's also immense. I don't care to live life like other authors. No shade to anyone but I feel things in my body that a person who lives mostly in their left brain would not be able to fathom. I know the difference because I have lived both realities. No advice needed from anyone...only vulnerably documenting this part of my journey. I will graciously receive energetic hugs though. :)

India Ame’ye, Author

[genderkoolaid]

As a trans and disabled person, I have no strong opinions on endo systems but I actively hate “transdisabled” people. Most of the community I see treats disability like an aesthetic, like I chose to have my legs not work and that I look cool in my chair. And yeah maybe I do look cool but my disability brings so much fucking pain it feels disrespectful to act like it’s something I should be happy about. If you’re not in pain, you’re not in pain. Gender is a social construct but disability (to an extent, and I’m talking about my disability which severely impacts my nervous system and also causes access tissue to grow leading to severe pain) is not a social construct. It is something I have to suffer through every fucking day and to try and co-opt and draw conclusions between me and someone who doesn’t have to go through that is so disrespectful to me. You do not want this, it is painful and frightening and I have a good chance of dying before 30. If you feel like you have these symptoms and can’t afford a doctor I have no hate against self dxing. But acting like you have a disability with no symptoms is just a plain fuck you to those who suffer from them everyday.

Again, if you feel transdisabled due to an underlying psychological issue, I wish you the best and I hope you’re able to access adequate mental health care. But you do not have what I have. Your body is not twisted, you do not wake up everyday in agony, your body is not destroying yourself and I find it horrific of you to act like it is. For me transableism feels like it is treating the fact that I have had to fight for every step I take, every place I go, every time I’ve collapsed in absolute agony, the nights vomiting my guts out because there is tissue growing where it shouldn’t be, the amount of times I’ve screamed my throat raw into a pillow because my nerves are on fire and simplify it into a flag or an identity is so fucking disrespectful. If you have the same symptoms as I do and it is unsafe to go to a doctor or the doctor won’t believe you, I’m sorry and I support your right to self dx and I hope you find medication that helps. If you have BIID I hope you can find the therapeutic help you need in order to feel at home in your body. But you don’t have the disability I do, not to say BIID isn’t a disability or it’s a lesser disability, but you do not have what I do and it is infuriating to me to say you have what I have without experiencing a fraction of the pain that I have Final message: I don’t want to say I hate transabled people or I wish harm among them because most of them are younger people. But I want you to think about how demeaning it is to tell someone who’s body is twisted and overgrown and painful to say you want to be like that? To say you’ve been through the same thing? Stop. I know you’re not trying to be, but you’re being ableist. Trans people transition through a social construct by my pain is not social. Please seek psychological treatment for your BIID and stop making those flags

Okay, first, I need to clear this up: I do not have BIID and I am not transabled. I am already physically disabled, I use mobility aids, I am in pain constantly, my ability to eat normally is fucked up, and my quality of life has been severely negatively affected by my physical disability, to the point where it has been a major component of why I have been suicidal. Trust me, I understand. I would be pretty upset if someone came up to me and said they were envious of my disabilities, because it's rude to act that way about someone else's suffering.

My problem is, everything you have said is the exact same reasoning cis women have for seeing trans women as offensive. There are many cis women who have lived lives full of horrific misogyny, who have been deeply traumatized by misogyny, who view womanhood as intrinsic suffering and pain. And they feel that trans women are extremely disrespectful, because how could they possibly know what it's like to suffer through horrific misogyny? How could they act like womanhood is some fun game full of pink and flowers when it has been a major source of trauma in your life? These cis women feel that trans women view womanhood as an aesthetic, they only see the patriarchal construct of femininity and think it looks like fun, and they are extremely offended by the idea that a "male" can just co-opt womanhood and try to act like "he" knows anything about the horrible, traumatic experience of being a woman.

Now, disability and gender are not the same thing, nor do they function the exact same. But its the same arguments, and the same gut reaction to seeing someone seek out something that causes you so much pain, and feeling like they are spitting on your pain by doing that. Its an understandable reaction, but not one that is based in connection with those people.

The more I read about people with BIID/transabled people and their experiences, the more I really feel for them. Their experiences of dysphoria are real, and lead many to the strong desire to hurt themselves in order to relieve it, in lieu of available surgery; many trans people can relate to that desire. Their experiences of euphoria are also real- the few people who have achieved their desired disability seem to, fairly consistently (although the data is Scarce), genuinely feel relief and are able to live happier lives. Here is one study on a man who had his leg removed and was very happy with it, and another one on 21 people who were able to get surgery- for that one, every single person said they didn't regret it at all. They felt happy with their bodies, free from depression, and overall felt their quality of life had improved extremely.

Again, I understand the gut reaction to seeing someone say that they are envious of amputees or that they wish they could be disabled. It's not an evil reaction, it's not a bad reaction. But their desire does not negate anyone's suffering, just like a trans woman's euphoria does not negate a cis woman's trauma. Their pain and their joy are real, and it does not negatively affect me, or you, for them to experience and pursue that joy. They can definitely be ableist, and be disrespectful to disabled people, but that is not an inherent part of BIID/being transabled. And there are people who are already physically disabled who are happy with their lives and are fine with being disabled, especially amputees; why should that be fine, but transabled people are warped fetishizing freaks? And, again, their desires are not hurting disabled people. All of the people in the above studies spent years thinking about their desires and what it would mean (which I think is important to point out, because if you are basing your entire view of a group on teens on Tumblr, you probably aren't going to get the most nuanced, coherent perspective). I think it's rude to suggest that other people, who have never met a transabled person, just inherently know that they are fetishizing and thinking being disabled is a fun game. Shouldn't we listen to them on their experiences? Writing all of them off as not understanding what it's like to be disabled is a generalization, and the same can be said for trans people- how do we damn transabled people in a way that doesn't give fodder for transphobes? I feel like solidarity between both groups can be used to fight for greater bodily autonomy, no matter how strange their desired body seems to the culture they are in.

All in all, I completely understand why you feel the way you do. As I said, I would not want someone to tell me, to my face, that I'm lucky to be disabled. But that's not what having BIID or being transabled means- and I do think there is some value in the radical statement that being disabled is not inherently a lesser existence than being abled, and people can and are able to be happy and love their lives and their bodies as disabled people. I don't think transabled people should claim that they are physically disabled (unless they have transitioned and do have that disability), but their desires are not inherently ableist or awful. Their dysphoria is legitimate and they have a right to seek body euphoria, the same as a trans person, or someone who wants tattoos, or someone who wants to get body modifications to look like a lizard.

[sleepytimepup]

bad kids regression hcs!

riz

baby regressor and cat regressor!

can nearly always be found in someone’s arms

he’s so stressed all the time that it’s really nice to be able to completely relax and be taken care of for once

he does have difficulty getting into that headspace but he can’t age dream because that’s even harder. often ends up regressing as a result of his friends regressing too

hisses if someone tries to pet him but will also hiss if he crawls into someone’s lap and they Don’t pet him

needs to be watched bc he Will start biting wires

so vocal he loves to babble very enthusiastically and everyone’s just like yeah!! totally buddy!! for sure!!

fabian

usually about 7 or 8, takes his role as a big brother very seriously

however he does complain about the younger kiddos being boring bc he wants to play with them and all they do is lay down and cry

very used to fighting For Real when he was a kid so he’s often a little too rough and has to be told to pull it back a little bit

will throw a tantrum if he doesn’t get his way bc he always got everything he wanted as a bio kid

the hangman spends most of his time in dog form, chasing fabian around seacaster manor (he still calls fabian sire and fabian thinks it’s cool ‘cause it makes him feel like a pirate prince)

adaine

regresses anywhere from 4-12

it starts out as much more of a stress/vent thing for her and gradually becomes more enjoyable as her mental health improves

definitely makes use of her retroactive bday gifts from jawbone

loves playing with boggy and moggy

curls up on jawbone’s lap so he can read her stories

kristen

usually one of the oldest kids. it takes her a while to unlearn the parentification and realize that she’s allowed to be taken care of, and after that she starts to slowly slip younger

the best at fixing boo boos! she always has band aids on her—even if she can heal her friends with a spell, it’s nice to have a physical reminder too (plus, sometimes it’s not Actually something that requires healing)

a very silly kiddo, always the first one to agree to any wild plan fabian or fig come up with

sometimes has breakdowns where she isolates and won’t use her words, but the second jawbone or sandra lynn come in to see what’s the matter she’ll burst into tears and throw herself into their laps. she still won’t talk about it but it’s nice to be held

gorgug

probably regresses the least of all of them, except maybe riz. he’s a great big brother though!

when he does regress he likes adaine to cast reduce on him so he can be smaller. he’s so used to being too big for the things around him from a young age so it’s nice to feel like he’s small

everyone will band together with the thistlesprings to also make him Larger versions of things so he can still feel small even if adaine isn’t around

likes making flower crowns/chains and singing songs while he does it. he, riz, and adaine will usually hang out together in the shade, typically supervised by jawbone or lydia, while the other kiddos run around and get their energy out

riz loves curling up on gorgug’s chest and gorgug is a sleepy guy, so they can often be found napping together

fig

switches back and forth between very pink bubbly unicorns and rebellious little punk monster

she likes singing with gorgug but her songs are often more of the violent nature (think the barney or my little pony songs you heard in elementary school) so it scares him sometimes

loves sandra lynn and gilear. always has to be attached to one of them or in their sight. there’s a lot of “mom! mom, watch me! did you see that, dad??”

paints the other kids’ nails (usually something with sparkles) and gives them punk rock makeovers

[flutteringfable]

various bakugou and kirishima headcanons because i love them a normal amount <3

bakugou

ohhh where to begin with this guy. hes so interesting hes got so much goin on

a really common headcanon i see shared around is that he uses hearing aids because of his quirk! i like that one a lot, because it’s also very funny to imagine him grumbling and taking them out when midoriya starts rambling

only 1-A has really picked up on this, but when he’s close with someone, his aggression turns more into passive-aggression and sarcasm. he’s really bad at expressing his feelings, but if he makes a joking snarky little comment at you, that means he likes you!!

bullies midoriya but will murder you if you try to do so. that’s HIS childhood friend, he’s the only one allowed to be mean to him. (this develops a little later in their years at UA; most of the initial bullying was actually just him being intentionally mean and he could not care less if someone else did the same. it also tones down more as time goes on, and turns into mostly snarky remarks and sarcasm.)

literally so bad at apologizing; someone help this man. he eventually makes some semblance of peace with midoriya (there’s still tension, but significantly less), but it takes AGES for him to actually say the words “i’m sorry.”

mellows? kind of? with age. he’s still short tempered and snappish, but he’s a lot more mature by the time he’s graduating. still gets a little too passionate in battle sometimes, but that’s just him.

doesn’t know how to react to physical affection. don’t hug him randomly if you aren’t close, or he might punch you. if you’re close friends or his significant other, though, with some warning he’ll hesitantly let you hug him. his first couple of hugs back are awkward and stiff, but he eventually gets the hang of it.

thinks 10pm is super late at night. doesn’t like staying up, even for parties or studying. gets really tired around 10:30.

cuddle! this! guy!!! he won’t admit it, but he loves being snuggled. prefers to cuddle in private to keep the others from teasing him. he likes having someone leaning on his shoulder or held against his chest. also partial to having someone on top of him like a weighted blanket.

will remind you about self care. “drink water, idiot; you’re gonna pass out otherwise.” “if you’re tired, just go to bed. you can worry about your work tomorrow. no use doing it if it’s gonna turn out bad because you’re half asleep.” stuff like that.

overall, he is truly the guy ever. i have so many thoughts about him he’s so!!!

kirishima

i think he would be really into baking. he sucks at cooking actual meals, but can make the most incredible cakes or brownies you’ve ever tasted.

1-A’s personal heater in the wintertime. bakugou would rather die than have the class huddled around him, but kiri is happy to accept the snuggles!

the type to help others but forget to take care of himself. tends to accidentally overwork himself and pass out on the common room couch.

very big on physical affection. loves hugs and cuddles so so much. give this guy a headpat and its OVER. he is MELTING. has really nice, snug hugs.

also not great at staying up late. he’s not someone that goes to bed super early like bakugou, but he tends to get sleepier the later at night it is.

LOOOVES aquariums. his favorite animals are the giant rays and whale sharks, but he likes all sea creatures! could stand in the tunnels all day and watch all the fish. will make friends with all the aquarium workers and talk about marine life with them.

headbutts as a gesture of affection! will gently bump his head against your shoulder or head like a cat if he’s content or happy.

collects plushies! his favorite is a giant dragon plush he won at an arcade.

really good at rigged games! claw machines you can’t really help, but games like darts and that one ladder climbing game are his jam. will win you all the best prizes.

i think he would be a roller coaster nerd. he likes learning about the mechanics and history of coasters, and also loves riding them.

likes carrying his friends around on his shoulders. what else do you do with all that strength, after all? :D

[boysborntodie]

3,7,15,16,22

Thanks for the ask, anon!!!

3: As you can see by my pfp, it’s Miss Cherry Valance. I absolutely adore her<333

7: So like everyone talks about the Curtis brothers, the Dally/Johnny/Trio, the gang, Randy and Pony, etc. And I adore those relationships but I wanna talk about one less talked about.

I fucking love whatever the fuck Bob and Johnny have going on.

Bob and Johnny, despite not exchanging a word, are so compelling due to their past and this tension that surrounds them. Despite one appearing in one scene, Bob continues to haunt the narrative, his presence never disappears, especially for Johnny.

For Johnny, Bob was the physical manifestation of his abuse, someone who hurt him more than anyone ever had, and this causes Johnny to decide that he would kill before he got hurt again (not like a proper intention but just lurking at the edge, enough to make him capable of what no other character is).

For Bob, Johnny ends up being the executor of the consequences he had always needed, but never got as his parents refused to set limits for him. They are so intertwined ugh (actually you can make an argument Cherry/Bob/Johnny/Dally are all intertwined but that’s a topic for another day)

15.

Johnny is gay and demisexual. For the longest time, he believed himself to be unable to feel romantic love (it didn’t bother him tho).

Sodapop learned some basic first aid from his mother and is the gang’s go-to as they can’t afford to go to the hospital after getting any scrapes. He also is good at taking care of someone when they’re sick

Dally has a chunk of one of his ears missing and stories as to how it happened vary. Two says it’s because Dally got into a fight with a street dog. Tim swears that Dally told him it’s nasty story involving a pipe and a car accident. Pony has several different stories of how he imagined it could’ve happened

Half of the greasers don’t even like Elvis that much (they don’t dislike his music and some songs are catchy but it’s nit their fave), they just listen because it’s considered cool

Johnny takes after his mom in appearance (canonically) and personality but has his dad’s eyes. He seems to not take after either of them in personal due to his meekness, but in some ways, he’s more similar to them than he’s comfortable being. And yet he is not because he chooses to not pass on the hurt his parents gave him

16. I love some more gang interactions in general. Two and Dally have always felt like besties to me so I wish we saw more of them. There was no way to fit in Cherry and Johnny interactions but I still yearn for them

22: I do this with all minor characters to some extent, but mainly Sandy and Sylvia. I have an entire enemies and lovers, toxic yuri canonverse AU about them

[rambling-robot]

turns out, the relief of my surgery being potentially very soon and the confidence that I’m in good hands because I know the nurse in charge over pre- and post-op and she recommends this surgeon does not take away my anxiety about having, you know, surgery. (Long anxiety ramble under cut)

I talked with her today and she was very kind and essentially gave me a verbal walkthrough and answered all of my questions, and offered to give me a physical walkthrough when I’m at my consult, and said that they wouldn’t let me keep the stones because they’d be biopsied but they’d probably take pictures!!! I feel more informed and a little more confident and like there’s a little less of the Unknown (and, better yet, like the Unknown only contains things I don’t need to know about).

And then I left the conversation and got super anxious because, holy cow dudes, I’m getting an IV stuck in my hand and air pumped into my abdomen and someone I know might see me at least partially naked (although she’s gracious and professional enough to never mention it or treat me differently, so that’s not a top concern but I’m rambling here) and little robot hands are gonna go inside me (they’re even more accurate than the years-experienced surgeon and he’s been using them frequently with somehow better results) and they’re gonna give me a lidocaine shot before the hand IV so like ugh two needles but at least it’ll be numbed because I hear hand IVs (and a blood draw, if he wants it) hurts so like, better that than nothing I guess, and. and. and. I mean it’s a simple surgery and won’t have any complications unless the room explodes or something crazy, and it’ll be done in under an hour (I’ll spend more time in prep and waiting on him that actually in surgery) and I have a support system to help me when I get home (especially the day-of) and really, I won’t be conscious or even fully lucid for the worst of it, but despite recent positive experiences and brave moments, I’ve got some deeply-rooted medical fears and it doesn’t matter how much relief I logically know I’ll receive, that’s surgery, dude. I’m going under and having an organ snipped out and then my digestive system has to work back up to figuring out what I can eat. It’s still a little scary. I don’t want to be brave, but indulging in the fear and shrinking into myself is uh Not Helpful, bit regressive and whatnot, so I have to be falsely brave and just not think about it except as necessary and simply Not Care.

Also I’m going to be taking hydration aids (Gatorade, “liquid IV”) and drinking protein shakes (solely because I’ve been getting. like. zero protein. and I’m scared of trying stuff out. and she said protein helps me heal better and if I can tolerate the taste then have at it) to prepare for the days leading up. Which is good for me!! So. That’s nice. Been meaning to ask if protein shakes could be an option, anyway.

I also need to make sure I don’t trigger another flare-up, because yes, I could get it done right then and there and the current pain would outweigh anything the nurses could stick me with, but, and I quote, “you’re set to have a really good doctor right now, but you’re not going to get a choice with emergency surgery and I can’t help you out if you’re in there.” So. Yeah man I’m gonna stick with my trusted friend who works there and knows everyone and says, yeah this doctor is thorough and has good results and doesn’t rush, stick with him. No intentional triggers.