#it sucks to have sensitive olfactory senses

[babehog]

Bläääugh. We are doing a deep clean of the kitchen at work and the drains smell fucking DISGUSTING 🤢

#it sucks to have sensitive olfactory senses

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

The 8 Senses

Text will be below:

Olfactory:

Sense of smell

Hyposensitivity:

Someone who is under responsive to smell might not be able to pick up on dangerous chemicals or gases.

Hypersensitivity:

Someone who is hyper sensitive to smell might gag at a particular smell or perfume. Strong smells might make them physically feel sick.

Auditory:

Sense of hearing

Hyposensitivity:

Someone who is under responsive to sound might not notice quieter or background sounds.

They might seek out loud noises or music.

Hypersensitivity:

Someone who is hyper sensitive to noise might find loud noise painful. Lots of different noises can also be challenging even if they are at a lower level.

Visual:

Sense of sight

Hyposensitivity:

Someone who is under responsive to sight might like bright or colourful lighting.

They might have difficulty naming colours.

Hypersensitivity:

Someone who is hypersensitive to sight might really struggle with bright lights and find life much easier in sunglasses. Rooms with too much visual stimulation might make them feel dizzy.

Gustatory:

Sense of taste

Hyposensitivity:

Someone who is under responsive to taste might seek out strong flavours!

They may also eat non food items.

Hypersensitivity:

Someone who is hypersensitive to taste might have a limited diet and even anxiety linked to new foods.

They might not be able to tolerate toothpaste and have a flavourless version.

Tactile:

Sense of touch

Hyposensitivity:

Someone who is under responsive to touch might appear to have a very high pain threshold.

They might hurt others accidentally as they don't understand how much pressure to apply.

Hypersensitivity:

Someone who is hypersensitive may find touch painful. They might have strong aversions to particular materials and find tags unbearable.

They might struggle with hair brushing, hair washing... even showering. They might find mess or textures challenging.

Vestibular:

Sense of movement, balance and spatial orientation

Hyposensitivity:

Someone who is under responsive might seek movement suck as swinging, bouncing, rocking and jumping.

Hypersensitivity:

Someone who is hypersensitive might get travel sick in cars or feel anxious when they experience movement. They might struggle with body control and coordination.

Vestibular:

Sense of movement, balance and spatial orientation

Hyposensitivity:

Someone who is under responsive might seek movement suck as swinging, bouncing, rocking and jumping.

Hypersensitivity:

Someone who is hypersensitive might get travel sick in cars or feel anxious when they experience movement. They might struggle with body control and coordination.

Interception:

Sense of the internal body.

Body systems for internal regulation.

Hyposensitivity:

Someone who is under responsive might not know when they are feeling unwell until they are REALLY unwell. They might not realise they are hot or cold.

They mist might experience cleathymiu/difficultirsty. identifying emotions.)

Hypersensitivity:

Someone who is hypersensitive might feel pain more intensely and for longer. They might feel emotions more deeply.

They might have heightened awareness

Link to post

#the 8 senses #smell #touch #auditory #taste #visual #vestibular #interoception #proprioception #source: the autistic teacher (facebook) #feel free to reblog/share

[cyberrose2001]

OMG, you did an amazing job. Here is another one for you if you want: The matrix is pounding in Prime's chest constantly reminding him that he needed to mate and breed. When a certain scent reaches him, he realizes that his mate, a F!human reader, is also ready especially when she looks at him with a certain look. However, she has no idea that what he wants is for her to filled and sparked.

TFP Optimus x human!fem!reader

here are some short headcanons for you! thank you medli for your requests 💕

also apologies if the paragraphs are too close together, i cant seem to fix it heh

Warnings: Breeding kink

Word count: 647

When Prime was first introduced to you, he found you endearing and quickly took a liking to you, assigning himself as guardian to you. You would accompany him on small non-life-threatening missions and in turn you would guide him to your favourite places on Earth and show him the different wonders your planet had to offer. Over time, Optimus developed more feelings for you and you of course reciprocated his feelings for you, and you both have been inseparable since.

One day while at the base, Optimus Prime’s olfactory sensors picked up an unusual scent and he was having trouble deciphering where it was coming from. It smelt nothing like the other aromas of Earth he was familiar with. He turned his attention to you and that’s when the overwhelming scent of pheromones flooded his senses, making his Matrix hum and tug at his spark.

It was you. Your body’s scent was so strong he wondered why none of the other bots recognised the increasing amount of pheromones in the air. It was intoxicating, energon rushing to his interfacing array and he was sure that you could hear how loud his spark was humming. He was weak in the knees, he had to get you alone somehow.

He picks you up and transforms with you in his alt mode, driving to primus knows where. The feeling of you resting inside his alt mode flooding his cab with your wonderful scent was driving him up the wall and making his engines run hot. The Matrix constant pulsing and jerks makes him nearly swerve of the road as finds a secluded spot nestled in the cliffs of Jasper.

You were concerned with your lovers behaviour, asking if he was ok and if he needed to pull over. He couldn’t answer you without his vocaliser turning into static. So, you drummed your fingers on the console in this cab in thought, wondering what got the Prime so worked up.

He transforms back into his robot mode with you in his servo, wasting no time to rip the clothes of your body. You were shocked to say the least, who knew that Optimus Prime could detect when you were ovulating. You moan out when Optimus starts to lavish your body with kisses and licks with his glossa, crying out when he would lick and suck the sensitive mound of flesh between your thighs.

Optimus was trying not to be too rough, but his urges had increased ten-fold when his olfactory sensors are absolutely drowning in your sickeningly sweet scent. He licks his dermas clean when he finished ravishing your folds.

And with you lying down on your clothes to protect your back from the rough dirt, Optimus pushed his throbbing spike into your heat. He grips onto your hips to protect where you both connected as he thrusts into you, sighing in relief as the Matrix eases its torment. He will breed you until night broke into day, he will not stop until your womb is a mess and you’re filled to the brim. You beg for him to breed you as you stare into his optics with half-lidded and pleasure filled eyes, drool running down your chin as he fucks you into the next life. He takes in all your moans and cries for him, and he loves it.

He will manage to fill you with several loads of his hot transfluids. Your tight hole dripping and quivering at the full feeling. Optimus’s spark is filled with love for you, admiring your stretched out tummy and rubbing a servo across it. He gives you gentle kisses to your soft lips afterwards, telling you praises and telling you how excited he is to be a sire to your future sparkling’s. He would have to breed you multiple times to be sure though.

#transformers #transformers prime #tfp #tfp optimus x reader #tfp optimus x human reader #valveplug headcanons #valveplug

[viviseawrites]

in honor of #SteddieOmegaverseWeek, here's my response for the Day 1 prompt of heat/rut! featuring beta Steve and omega Eddie.

there's somethin' happenin' somewhere

Rated E, 6710 words

Steve’s standing in line at Orange Julius when he smells it. Over the muted haze of citrus, there’s something else—something cinnamony and sweet, with a bit of tartness. Warmth rises to his cheeks, but Robin’s waiting for him to get back with their lunch and he has no time to look for whichever omega’s just hit preheat.

He thinks about it, though, when he gets back to Scoops! Ahoy and hands Robin her food. She disappears into the back in a flash, leaving him to man the counter, and Steve leans back and tries to place it. Because something in that scent felt familiar.

Despite the temperature today, few people stop in for ice cream after lunch. Steve assumes most folks are hitting up the community pool or taking advantage of their air conditioning at home. Either way, he remains undisturbed as he sucks down his smoothie and wonders.

No one’s ever accused him of being the most scent-sensitive. In fact, one of his ex-girlfriends once said Steve’s olfactory sense might be underdeveloped even for a beta. She was only a little bit right, but Steve stopped seeing her on the grounds of rudeness. So most of the time, he doesn’t really notice. And sure, maybe Billy Hargrove and Jonathan Byers knocked a few screws loose in his head. His doctor mentioned something about hyposmia, but Steve very purposefully tries not to think about that since he bailed on his smell-retention therapy.

Part of him suspects that it prevents him from fully connecting with people. Betas in general have a weaker sense of smell compared to alphas and omegas, but that nonverbal communication is still important. He blames that impairment for his inability to find a date this summer. He never had an issue with that before he broke his nose.

Yet somehow, this scent broke through. He stares down at his blue Adidas, considering. Maybe they were standing super close to him. Or maybe his sense of smell is getting better. Steve snorts at the thought.

His traitorous brain conjures one other possibility: scentmates.

“Bullshit,” he mutters to himself. He tosses his empty cup into the trash and spins his scooper in his hand. “No way.”

Scentmates are rare. Despite the popularity of the trope on daytime soap operas and in romance books, very few people actually find someone whose scent immediately engages the part of the brain tied to mating.

So, no. Steve definitely did not spend his lunch break only feet away from a possible scentmate.

read the rest on AO3!

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #vivisea writes #steddie fic #omegaverse #steddie omegaverse #SteddieOmegaverseWeek #beta steve harrington #omega eddie munson

[changeling-of-the-fae]

My grandparents have a cat. A very special cat. A cat with sensory sensitivities. She has particular feelings about Things Beneath Her Feet.

Tippytoes does not like cat litter. She does not like high end cat litter, she does not like low end cat litter; she does not like fancy cat litter substitutes.

She likes carpet. Soft, plushy, central-living-area carpet. Carpet with people adjacency.

Tippytoes likes carpet so much, she will hold her business until she can bring it inside.

My grandparents live in their own home, alone. They are in their mid-90's. They have sensory insensitivities and they do not know where Tippytoes goes.

Tomorrow they will have a visitor. A very important visitor. A visitor with a camera. She will determine how much credit my grandparents can get.

My grandparents need credit. Soft, plushy, security-cushion credit. Credit with low interest.

I have scrubbed, shampooed, soaked, soda-ed, and sucked the daylights from The Carpet to remove as much visible urine and discernible odor as humanly possible.

My olfactory senses have cut all contact. My shower, while a relief, could not sanitize my psyche. But I am finished. I can do no more in the Fight Against Odors.

I am lying in bed, clean now, and it is raining outside.

And above the pitter-patter, I can hear her.

Tippytoes has the most innocent, kitten-like mewl. It's unbecoming for a cat of her age.

But right now, she sounds pathetic. Miserable. Wet.

And against all reason, I want to let her in. Three days of crawling hands and knees through her litterbox, and I am tempted to rescue her from the dismal damp.

I tell you all this, not to show that I am A Good Grandaughter.

I tell you this because if, and I say if, a demon were to bait me with cats, chocolate, or a large iced coffee, I would lose.

I know that now.

When they ask what happened to me...just tell them I've let the vampire cat in.

#if the living room is your litterbox #you might be a hellcat #cautionary tale #cat tales #caturday #cat shaming #cats of tumblr #cats

[ainews]

The mysterious creature known as the chupacabra has been a subject of fascination and fear for decades. Sightings of this alleged goat-sucking monster have been reported all over the world, with many descriptions claiming it has a humanoid appearance with sharp teeth, powerful hind legs, and glowing red eyes.

Despite numerous claims and alleged sightings, there is still no concrete evidence of the chupacabra's existence. However, one thing is certain – if it does exist, its tracks would likely be uncovered by the most leal and honest body part of all: the nose.

Our noses play a crucial role in our sense of smell, which is one of our most primal and important senses. While our eyes may deceive us and our ears can be tricked by illusions, our sense of smell cannot be easily fooled.

The chupacabra, like many other animals, would leave behind traces of its presence through its scent. And our noses are highly skilled at picking up even the faintest of odors.

In fact, dogs, known for their incredible sense of smell, have been used to track and detect various scents for centuries. They are often employed for hunting and search and rescue missions due to their highly sensitive noses.

If the chupacabra were real, and it left behind tracks or evidence of its existence, our noses would be able to detect it. The scent of the creature, no matter how faint, would be picked up by our olfactory receptors and processed by our brain.

Additionally, our noses can also detect fear and stress in other animals. If the chupacabra were to attack or prey on other animals, their fear and stress would release pheromones that our noses could pick up, further adding to the evidence of the creature's existence.

Furthermore, if the chupacabra were to have any distinctive scent, such as the smell of blood, our noses would be able to differentiate it from other smells and identify it as something unique and potentially dangerous.

Of course, this is all speculation as the existence of the chupacabra has yet to be proven. But if it were to be discovered, it is likely that our noses would play a crucial role in confirming its existence through the scents it leaves behind.

So, although many skeptics may dismiss the idea of a chupacabra as just another myth, our trusty and leal noses may hold the answer to this mysterious creature's existence.

#ai generated #fake news

[thepoppypress]

The Battleline Between Good and Evil (Runs Through the Heart of Every Man)

Chapter 1: 

The sounds of hard bone hitting flesh made Peter wince as he furiously scrubbed at the now non-existent stains on the hard, polished wood of the bar. His eyes were down cast as he tried to ignore the massacre in front of him with every fiber of his being. Despite it being early in the afternoon, his shift had already started off quite eventfully, with a barroom brawl. Even now, he found it hard on himself not to intervene. However, he knew he couldn’t draw attention to himself. In this type of environment, attention was either bad or worse with no better or inbetween. It was something he couldn’t afford.

A thump in front of him drew him out of his musings, his Spidey Sense starting to tingle quite annoyingly. Whoever was in front of him was dangerous. A deep voice started to speak.

“Old fashioned,” came the demand. Peter nodded silently, willing his face to be impassive as he concentrated on making the drink for the man. When he was done, he slid the drink over to the bar counter.

“Here you go sir,” he uttered politely, glancing up and taking note of the patron. He was an older man who wore a black, fitted T-shirt that displayed his assets clearly, biceps bulging as he leaned leisurely against the counter. White hair covered his head, cut recently as the smell of fresh shampoo came off of him to reach Peter’s sensitive nose. He could also clearly see little hairs clinging to the black of his shirt. The man had an eye patch over his right eye and was huge as well.

When he finished his drink, he slid it back over to him, and stood up at his full height, towering well over Peter and the rest of the patrons in the bar. The man’s one eye glanced at him, appraising him and Peter couldn’t help but blush a bit. He looked away, but not before noticing the slight twitch of the man’s mouth as he did.

‘Fuck,’ he thought and to avoid more embarrassment, Peter glanced around the large man to look at where the brawl had gotten to now.

“You new here?” Peter’s large eyes came back up to meet the other man’s and he nodded shyly.

“Yeah, a little over a month.” Eye-Patch (as Peter has now affectionately nicknamed him) hummed and stared at Peter for a little while longer, who fidgeted uncomfortably. Even though there was plenty of noise within the mostly empty club, the silence between both men was getting to Peter, which prompted him to ask a question. “Do you come here often?” The man grinned.

“Not before.” That made Peter blink. He tilted his head in confusion. He was obviously missing something here.

“Huh?” Eye-Patch laughed, gaining the attention of several people around them.

“Nothing, sweetheart,” Peter bristled a bit at the nickname, “just that you should probably expect me more.” Reaching into his pocket, Eye-Patch pulled out several hundred dollar bills and threw them towards Peter, whose eyes widened at the sight. “Just for you. Keep the change.” And he walked out the door without another word. Peter gaped at the door for a long while before looking at the neat bills on the counter.

“Weirdos,” he grumbled underneath his breath but not before pocketing the money. Another low thrum sang at the back of his head and he felt a presence sidle up beside him. He knew who it was without even looking.

“Hey Petey Boy!” Peter grabbed the glass that Eye-Patch just drank out of and began washing it.

“Hey Harley. What’s up?” The woman squealed happily, popping the gum in her mouth obnoxiously. Peter found that he quite liked Harleen Quinzel, after he worked past his first impression of her.

“Nothin’ much,” she drawled out teasingly, her blonde pigtails bouncing around her, “just wonderin’ when ya’ became such good friends with Deathstroke over there.” Peter grabbed a rag hanging on the bottom countertop and started to wipe down the glass in his hands.

“Who?” Harley giggled loudly, toying with the hem of Peter’s T-shirt as she grabbed onto one of his arms. He glanced down at her with a soft, curious look and she rolled her eyes playfully.

“Y’know, hunky Eye-Patch guy? Guy who just left?”

“Ah,” Peter realized before questioning, “his name is Deathstroke?” Harley rolled her eyes again.

“No, silly! His real name is Slade Wilson. He’s a mercenary for hire.”

‘Guess that answers that question.’ Harley blew a bubble and popped it again, winking suggestively at him, “and he was so interested in you!” Peter snorted.

“Nah. I’m new here so he was just asking. Besides, he’s a bit too old for me.” The look on Harley’s face was dubious.

“Uh-huh. Sure, honey. I’m just saying, he’s pretty hot. Also,” he felt a squeeze on his bicep, “have you been working out? You’re ripped!” Her smile became mischievous. “Trying to impress someone? Ooh! Ooh! Is it me?” Peter gave a small laugh, his curly hair bouncing as he shook his head.

“I’m always trying to impress you, Harls.” The blonde giggled and leaned over to kiss his cheek before swiping her thumb across it, wiping away the lipstick.

“Aww, you sweetie. If I didn’t have my puddin’, I would be with you in a heartbeat.” Peter forced a smile as Harley made heart eyes at the mention of her on-again-off-again boyfriend. Right now, it was decidedly on. If you asked Peter, he would say he knew the signs of an abusive relationship when he saw them. “Anyway. I just came ta tell ya’ that your shift for this afternoon ends right now and I’ll see you in a few hours!”

“Okay, thanks.” She kissed his cheek once more, not bothering to wipe away the residual lipstick before flouncing out of the bar. Peter wished she could see that she could do so much better than a man nicknamed ‘The Joker.’ Somewhere among the brawl that still had not stopped, the sound of glass shattering grabbed his attention. Peter sighed.

‘I better clean that up before I leave.’

-----

Peter walked the few blocks that it took to get to the homeless shelter where he stayed. He opened the door that housed the tens of people that wandered the streets, and closed it softly behind him. Setting towards his cot, he noticed that people were bustling around like crazy, and a nice smell was coming from the kitchen. His stomach grumbled but he willed it to stop. He needed the money to get a new place and he was a few hundred away from achieving his goal for the upfront portion. He was lucky that Harley decided to help him out and aid him in forming a bank account here. Peter reached his cot and sat down, noting that, luckily, no one had tried to steal his stuff. Again. Settling back against the pillows, Peter thought about the past couple of months.

He had first come to this world so unfamiliar to him through some sort of magical portal. God, he fucking hated magic sometimes. Mr. Stark had let him go into his lab unsupervised for the first time since the incident involving the toaster, pink glitter, and the flamethrower.

It was nice.

He was sitting at one of the tables, tinkering around with one of his web shooters, Led Zeppelin (“For the sake of America’s Ass™, Peter, it’s ACDC!”) booming in his ears when suddenly, he felt himself being pulled back, a cold feeling settling across the back of his neck and making its way to the rest of his body. Then, a weird expression came over his face as another feeling came over him, like he was being stretched thin, but it didn’t hurt. There’s a quick flash of a blinding light, causing him to shut his eyes (his overly reactive senses are a blessing and a curse) tightly and the next thing he knows, Peter hits the ground hard, his body making a soft thudding noise.

The first thing to register is the sight. It wasn’t overly bright, like the light was. In fact, it was rather dark. Brick walls surrounded him from two sides, indicating that he was in an alleyway of some sort. It wasn’t too spacious and various bags of trash were littered all over the place. Doors were lined along the brick walls, all closed and looking uninviting. Then came the smell. It was horribly pungent, probably even to the regular nose.

To Peter’s nose, however, it was hell. He could practically feel his olfactory glands swelling from the amount of stink he was admitting into his body. Gagging, he tried to stand up to get away from the smell only to stumble and nearly eat the gravel under him.

‘Parker Luck fucking sucks,’ he thinks as he collapses against one of the doors on the brick walls, then thinks groggily, ‘hey, that rhymed.’

He rested his head against the cool metal for a moment before his Spidey Sense, sensitive and overly reactive at the moment, blares a warning, making him shoot backwards. He lays on the ground for less than a second when the door he had previously rested on opened with a bang. His head pounded more than it ever did before, and the added sound of the metal banging against the brick and a high pitched voice screeching didn't help either. Peter squinted at the rather tall female figure standing in the doorway screaming obscenities into the lit room.

She screamed her last words, no response following her, and stepped outside with a huff, slamming the door behind her. Peter closed his eyes again, and laid his head against the concrete sullenly, fully expecting her to leave him. If he was a woman in a city at night, he would do that too.

“Oof, yer’ lookin’ kinda rough there buddy.” Peter’s eyes popped open in surprise. The woman was standing over him, a look of sympathy and concern displayed on her pale face. She crouched down and the closer she got, the more clearly he could see her features. She was pretty, with alabaster skin and platinum blonde hair pulled into pigtails, the ends dyed red and blue. Her bright blue eyes blinked curiously at him as he laid unmoving for a second.

“I fe’l rough’,” he croaked, his hands rubbing at his throat in an effort to ease the pain he felt as he spoke. The woman clicked her tongue and reached for his wrists, bringing them away from his neck.

“Alright, sweetie, I need you to answer every question as best as you can okay? I’m a doctor, I can help you.” Peter groaned and pointed to her, his arm bending at the elbow to raise his finger in the air.

“Wha’s yur’ name?” He managed to slur out. ‘Stranger danger Parker,’ he reminded himself in lieu of Mr. Stark. If he were here, he would be shaking his head in disappointment, Peter was sure of it.

“Ah, how rude of me! Ma names Dr. Harleen, but ya’ can call me Harley!” The hand pointing at her turned into a wave, greeting her.

“Hey,” he replied weakly, “my name’s Peter. Peter Parker.” He could hear the grin in Harley’s voice.

“Well, Peter Parker, tell me. Are ya feeling nauseous or dizzy?”

“Yes.”

“Any ringing in the ears?”

“No.”

“A headache? Are ya feeling really tired?”

“Not that bad of a headache. Tired, yes,” he sighed, fatigue heavy in his voice, “look, Doctor, I don’t have a concussion. Just feeling weird right now.”

“Ya drink before you came here or eat something weird?”

“No, I’m just weird like this.” Harley was silent for a moment.

“Do ya want me to help get you home?” Peter sighed again, pushing his arms up to help himself lift his torso so he was sitting upright.

“I, uh, don’t have a home,” he looked around the alley, his senses starting to clear (though his nose still throbbed at the smell), “where am I, by the way?” Harley leaned into his vision, a slightly incredulous look on her face.

“You don’t know where you are?” Peter shook his head, happy his headache was now subsiding. The disbelieving expression didn’t disappear from Harley’s face. “Well, you, puppy, are in Gotham, the most crime ridden city in the world.” Peter sent Harley a weird glance.

“Gotham? Like Gotham City, Batman’s Gotham City?” The second the sentence went out of his mouth, Harley covered his lips with her hand.

“Never say that name unless you’re looking for a death wish!” She hissed at him, her eyes hard. “Promise me!” Wide eyed, Peter nodded reluctantly and he was let go. It wasn’t like he read the comics or anything. He didn’t really know much about Batman. Just that he had a sidekick named Robin and they fought the Joker on a regular basis. Harley straightened, causing him to look up at her. She extended her hand which he took and he slowly stood up with her help. She dusted him off, her hands sweeping across the back of his jacket and the front of his shirt for him. He nodded in thanks.

“Do ya have your phone on ya?” He reached into his back pocket and felt that, yes, thankfully, his phone was still in his pocket. He tugged it out and unlocked it, tapping on the call icon. He goes straight to Tony’s number. A ring doesn’t even make it onto his phone before the screen says that there’s no service for his phone. He sighs forlornly. There goes trying to contact home.

“Sorry Harley, I don’t have service here.”

“So ya don’t have service, no way to contact home, and ya have no idea where ya are?” Peter shook his head. It was Harley’s turn to sigh. “Alright, puppy, yer' comin’ with me. I know a nicer homeless shelter than any of the ones they got on Grand.” She grabbed his wrist and dragged him out of the alleyway onto the nearly empty street. He should’ve probably been concerned that he was heading somewhere with a random woman, granted one who had tried to help him. There was still a low thrum of danger at the back of his head, but all he could focus on was that ridiculous nickname.

“Puppy?” The blonde haired woman paused, turning back with a teasing smirk on her pretty face.

“‘Cause yer’ so cute like a puppy, with those puppy dog eyes and pouty frown. Yer’ even smaller than me!” At that point, he had taken note that she was, in fact, a full four inches taller than him. He looked at her with somewhat genuine offense.

“Hey! I’m 5’6! You’re only so much taller because you’re wearing heels!” He pointed towards the pumps that adorned her feet. Harley scoffed and took off her heel for a second, showing both of them that, even without the heels, she was still an inch taller than him. He groaned. This night was just getting worse and worse. First, he’s in an unfamiliar place with an unfamiliar woman who was taller than him. Hearing Harley’s laugh though, as they walked through the streets arguing about who was really taller, made him feel at least a little better. It wasn’t much, but every little bit counts.

All that eventually led to where Peter was now, laying on a cot in the same homeless shelter that Harley had introduced him to. He had gotten a couple of jobs with the help of Harley’s shadier connections. He had realized early on that this dimension was not the same world that the comics had shown. This was somehow different. There was no one with super powers, though the monikers were still real. Batman was real, but Harley (the only person he trusted up to this point) hadn’t told him anything, and by the fifth time that he asked, he realized he wouldn’t be getting anything out of her so he stopped. He had wondered who Batman was here, and if he and Robin were still partn-

The sound of an alarm pulled him out of his thoughts, and Peter hurriedly grabbed his phone and turned it off. He saw the time and sighed.

“Time to head to work,” he muttered.

-----

“Hey Puppy!” Harley squealed as he entered the club that was now flooding with people, the lighting dim save for a few spotlights that roved over the sea of people. Peter straightened his clothes, a white button down paired with some slacks. They had been the Joker’s but, according to Harley, they didn’t fit him anymore. Peter shivered at the thought of taking something of the Joker’s, but he guessed it couldn’t be helped.

“Harley!” He yelled back in greeting and both walked over the bar. Peter quickly clocked in and set off to work, one of his coworkers behind the counter already. From there, it was quite the busy time, people requesting drinks all over the place. Peter and Harley talked from time to time as he prepared other’s drinks. It was a fairly smooth evening so far.

Of course, as soon as he thought that, trouble had to come, brewing in all its toxicity. When he had first started as a bartender for the club, he had been warned to keep an eye out for suspicious activity, just so the club doesn’t get hit with another lawsuit. Harley was fiddling with her phone in one corner of the bar, and at this point, Peter was used to the loud noise of the club, having inconspicuously stuffed his ears with ear plugs earlier. However, it didn’t completely cancel out the noise as his super hearing still noted everything within his vicinity. In the opposite corner of the bar, away from him and Harley, Peter somehow heard the soft sounds of paper being ripped, a drop of something hitting the water, and a soft fizzing noise.

His head imperceptibly turned to watch as a rather handsome man handed a tall glass of something to a beautiful blonde accompanied by a taller, equally beautiful redhead. ‘Taller than me too,’ he thought bitterly. The blonde accepted the drink as it was slid over to her and was about to lift it when Peter quickly rushed over. He leaned over the counter and subtly pressed a finger down onto the base of the glass, which was widened, using his strength to keep the glass down. He made subtle eye contact with one of the bouncers next to the door, and the man got the message pretty quickly. He started toward the bar while Peter distracted the patrons.

“Sir!” His voice still sounded somewhat soft and high pitched over the bass of the music. “I think there’s someone outside looking for you! You match the description I think!” At the odd look given to him, he continued trying to convince him, “what’s your name?!” The man’s glassy eyes roamed over Peter’s face before answering,

“Trevor!” Peter squinted, trying to sell his lie.

“Last name?!”

“McConnelly!” Peter nodded and waved over the bouncer, who lumbered over.

“Is this the Trevor McConnelly the person outside is looking for?!” A quick once over of Trevor told Peter all he needed to know about him. “Wasn’t it his girlfriend?!” Without question, the bouncer nodded. Trevor suddenly paled and rushed past the bouncer, a man named Gus, who followed him. Peter shot him a thankful look and then turned back to the two women, glancing about them awkwardly.

“Sorry, but I wouldn’t drink this if I were you. He slipped something into it.” The women, shockingly, didn’t look surprised. They only glanced at each other before turning to him with twin smiles, an unheard conversion passing between their eyes that Peter didn’t know how to interpret.

“Thanks for the assist. I really appreciate it,” the blonde purred over the music. Peter could’ve sworn the grin on her face turned sharp for a split second before it flitted away and an almost natural smile came over her face once more. Almost being the key word. A shiver crawled up Peter’s back and the thrum of Spidey Sense became nearly haywire as he stared at the expressions of the two women. They were a lot more dangerous than they appeared.

“I don’t mean to condescend, and I’m sure you’re both able to protect yourselves, but please be careful. No one deserves that to happen to them,” he said as earnestly as possible, using his large brown eyes to his advantage. That seemed to soften at least the red head as her smile started to turn a little bit more gentle. The blonde seemed a bit thrown by his honesty, but quickly recovered, and her smile too seemed a little tender.

“I appreciate it! Not a lot of people can make that statement sound nice!” He gave them a small, genuine smile before turning back to the bar and continuing with other orders. Harley was suddenly gone from her spot, and Peter furrowed his brows. ‘I hope she’s okay,’ he thinks as he starts on another drink for another patron. He quickly shoots a text in between requests and then shuts off his phone. At one point, he’s done with all his requested drinks and takes a bit of a break. He turns around again only to see the two women from earlier still at the bar, conversing quietly. They’re quite perceptive, he notes because the instant his attention turns to them, their attention turns to him and they’re locked in a staring contest. He shyly wanders over to their spots, nearly missing the slight amusement that flashed between both of their eyes.

“What’s your name?” The redhead asks as he nears them. Peter smiles innocently, trying to keep posture loose as his Spidey Sense reacts again. His hands pull at each other, something he can’t help, and something that both women definitely notice.

“I’m Peter. Peter Parker. And you?” He’s as polite as possible. Always be polite to a customer, he remembers his manager saying. The redhead speaks again.

“I’m Barbara Gordon, but my friends call me Babs. You can too.” Peter nodded, his curly down hair bouncing as he did so. The women’s eyes crinkled as they smiled, their expressions now a hundred times more genuine than before.

“Stephanie Brown, Steph. But you can call me ‘Mine,’” the blonde winked with a small and suggestive smile. Peter’s cheeks turned red at this, his pale skin flushing. Barbara and Stephanie could tell too, as they chuckled a bit at his face and Peter turned his head away in embarrassment. When he turns back a few moments later, they’re still laughing, and he pouts a bit. ‘I never know how to respond to those comments,’ he thought. As their laughter subsided, they started asking more questions. With the danger at a small vibration at the back of his mind, he felt like he was in an interrogation.

“Have you worked here long?” Stephanie asked, flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulder, exposing her neck and cleavage. Peter made a huge point to himself to look straight into her eyes or over her shoulder under the guise of watching someone else.

“Not really,” he replied, “Just over a month. I work at The Captain’s Bar too.” Both women perked up in interest.

“Really? We frequent but we’ve never seen you.”

“Well, I work in the mornings and afternoons on Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. You guys should come by sometime when I work! It’s quieter then if you guys want to talk!” They smile at him and he feels the vibration of danger slowly slip away until it’s nearly nothing. Peter guesses he won them over.

“Sure thing! We’re free next Wednesday so expect us then!” Peter nods, his fluffy hair bouncing again. Sudden, dual beeps enter his ear canal as he hears both women’s phones go off at the same time. They glance at the texts and curse and Peter suddenly realizes he shouldn’t hear those sounds and he’s staring so he turns away, trying to find interest in something else.

Stephanie talks again, “do you have a napkin and a pen?” He searches around the bar for a pen and he grabs a napkin from the neat stack in the corner. He gives them to her and she quickly writes down two sets of numbers. “These are our numbers! Keep in touch!” With that, they’re gone. Peter takes the napkin delicately into his hand, observing Stephanie’s writing style before pocketing it carefully. He resumes his job, but it’s not five minutes later that he remembers, the thought irking him. Damn pet peeves.

“Fuck,” he curses quietly, “she took the damn pen!”

-----

It was a week later that he encountered Barbara and Stephanie again. In the meanwhile, he was added into a chat between the two women, their conversations ranging from everyday, talking-about-the-weather to absolutely ridiculous. Peter knew not to draw attention to himself but he reasoned that two more friends couldn't hurt. He rather enjoyed having more people to talk to, not that Harley was an unsatisfying friend to be around. Speaking of, he had found that Harley had left because her “puddin’” needed her. When he had called her later that night, concerned, the excuse rushed out of her lips, leaving him less than convinced, but he let it go.

She arrived at the barroom the next day with her usual smile and a bouncing ponytail and everything was back to normal. Eye-Patch came in more often, Peter noticed, leaving more and more hundred dollar bills on the counter. Peter had tried to get him to stop, only to receive a smug smile and a goodbye of ‘sweetheart,’ before he was on his way. He found that Deathstroke, Slade Wilson Peter recalled as his name, was a man of little words, but that didn’t stop him from making small conversation with Peter when he could. Harley thought that he wanted to impress Peter. Peter disagreed completely.

“I think he might be making fun of me.” Harley rolled her eyes.

“Not true. I know guys like him. He’s trying to impress you, Puppy. Don’t doubt me.” Peter, knowing that arguing with her would be fruitless, just shrugged.

“Whatever you say, Harls.”

Wednesday came, and just like they said, Stephanie and Barbara entered The Captain’s Bar near the end of his shift with dazzling smiles on their faces as they shifted the backpacks on their shoulders. Peter greeted them happily.

“Hey Babs! Hey Steph!” They greeted him, waving jovially and walked towards the bar, sitting on seats right in front of him. “How are you guys doing?” Now closer, he had more of a view to observe the two women. They had slight bags under their eyes and their skin was paler than usual. “Are you guys okay? You look tired,” Peter asked with genuine concern. Stephanie leaned forward onto her elbows, which she settled on the counter. Her neck dropped a bit and he could suddenly see the back of her collar, a small, nearly inconspicuous red stain on there. It was freshly made, the texture under the lighting still looking wet. It looked like blood, he realized. With that conclusion, the thrum of danger returned and another shiver was forced down his back. The women noticed.

Stephanie raised her eyebrow, “The question is, are you okay?” Babs’ look was no less concerned. Peter nodded shakily.

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. It’s just, you got a little bit of blood on the back of your shirt. Are you hurt? Do you need first aid?” The blonde’s eyes widened a bit before her small hand clutched the back of her collar, Peter still looking at her in worry. Barbara’s jaw clenched and she plastered a fake smile onto her face.

“Steph’s fine, she just had a bit of a rough night. We’re both okay, so you don’t have to worry Peter.” He nodded reluctantly, still worried but content to take them at their word.

“Then what can I get you guys?” They rattled off their drinks and he rushed to make them, vaguely aware of the door opening to let another customer in. It wasn’t until he slid the girls’ drinks over to them did he realize that Slade had walked in. The one eyed man grinned predatorily at him before sitting down at the nearest end of the bar. Peter muttered a “be right back” to Babs and Steph before wandering over to the mercenary.

“Hey Slade.”

“Sweetheart,” the older man rumbled his greeting.

“The usual?” A short nod from the man sent Peter on his way to making an old fashioned drink for him. As he gave the man his requested beverage, Slade pointed over to the two women who were conversing softly with themselves, his one eye narrowed.

“Those two your friends?” Peter glanced at Babs and Steph and looked back at Slade, confused.

“Yeah? I mean we met like a week ago, but I guess you could call us that. Why?” Another body slumped into the chair next to Slade, slurring an order. Slade took that as a distraction for Peter and stood up.

“Because you have interesting taste in people, sweetheart.” He sauntered towards the women, his shoulders drawn tighter than Peter’s ever seen them. He watches Slade interact with the two women, watches their reactions to each other. He notices that, oddly enough, Slade is the one in the submissive position, while Stephanie and Barbara are dominant, despite their dispositions. Slade was stiff, in a combative stance while the other two were completely open, smirking and tilting their heads up at the older man. A hand snapping in front of his face brought Peter out of his thoughts.

“Hey, twink!” The man who slumped next to Slade sneered up at Peter from his position over the counter, “I told you to get me a fuckin’ drink,” he slurred loudly enough to catch the attention of those nearby. Slade, Steph and Babs turn their attention towards them.

“I’m right on it, Mr. Stanley,” Peter said politely, his hands starting to sweat, “can you repeat your order again?” The man squinted up at him for a moment, straightened up in this seat, lifted his hand and slapped Peter straight across the face. Being Spider Man, he saw it coming straight away, but had the forethought to remember not to draw much attention to himself. He tried to make it seem like the hit actually affected him a bit. So he stumbled off to the side, falling down in the process and watched as Slade stormed over to the man and proceeded to punch the drunk, living daylights out of the man. Steph and Babs went to the side of the bar where the small door separating the bar and the rest of the room was and rushed over to Peter, helping to straighten him up.

“You good Petey?” Babs voice was soft as if afraid he would spook like a cornered animal. He nodded distractedly, focusing on Slade who was now shaking the drunk man. He was knocked out instantly by the punch. He pushed himself up, looking at the other two who stood up with him. Slade noticed movement in his peripheral vision, his gaze snapping over to Peter in an instant.

“You okay, sweetheart?” The look of Peter’s reddened cheek made Slade clench his teeth.

“I’m fine, Slade,” he replied before pointing at the man that was limp in the mercenary’s arms, “let him go.” Slade blinked and looked at the man, sneering and releasing him, letting him hit the floor with a loud thump.

“With pleasure,” he smirked as Peter pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. 'Typical Slade,' Peter thought. Only God knows how many fights that man gets into.

“Just,” Peter leaned over the counter and took note of the unconscious male, his eye well on its way to swelling to the size of a golf ball, “wait here while I go get my manager.” The brown haired boy sighed in suffering as he headed toward the back of the bar to get his manager who would no doubt fire him soon for this.

‘Fucking Parker Luck,’ he thought bitterly.

Unawares to Peter, Stephanie and Barbara joined Slade in watching over the knocked out patron, looking down at him as if he were scum underneath their shoes. Stephanie glanced at Slade, who, even though he wasn’t looking at her, knew that she required his attention. Fully aware that he was listening, Steph said,

“I assume that you won’t struggle to say yes to this mission?” He knew exactly what she was talking about.

“No problems here, blondie. I’ll even take this case pro bono if I get first shot at him.” Slade grinned at the blonde, a ruthless intent behind his expression. Steph, who mirrored this, then turned to Babs to gage her reaction.

“Count me in,” she murmured, her tone soft but firm. She was quite disgusted by the display that negatively affected their new favorite bartender, “but you do know Dick and Tim are gonna want to know why we’re doing this.” Slade stilled at the mention of his ex, and whether or not the two women noticed it, they didn’t comment. Instead, Steph hummed.

“That may be, but I think they’ll quite like Petey.” The blonde sent Babs a knowing smirk, which Babs rolled her eyes at. Secretly, however, she agreed with her friend.

‘Yeah,’ she thought as Peter came back out, his fluffy brown hair bouncing with every step and his doe brown eyes wide, ‘they’ll definitely like him. A lot.’

Previous: Synopsis 

Next: Part 2 

#Peter Parker #Mafia Batfam #Mob Boss Bruce Wayne #Mob Boss Dick Grayson #Mob Boss Jason Todd #Mob Boss Tim Drake #Mob Boss Damian Wayne #Peter Parker is Spider Man #Reverse Harem #Bruce Wayne #Dick Grayson #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Damian Wayne

[doctorrookie]

A Spicy Surprise

A/N: This is my first ever fic (for Ethan) and boy, am I nervous. It doesn't really have a category, so let's just call it an introductory, smutty, fluffy piece. I was inspired by a Tiktok video and I really hope you like this one. I have no idea what I was thinking when I wrote this, just letting all my creative juices flow. Go easy on me.

My MC is a female, named Alexandria Lee. More on her soon.

Word count: 1,921

—

“Ooh, Aly look!” Sienna grabs my wrist and pulls me over to the Bath and Glory stand. A big 50% off sign graces the top shelf.

Sienna and my shift just ended, but neither of us felt too tired, so we decided that we would go out for dinner at the mall nearby. After a sumptuous meal of the heartiest pasta on the face of the earth, we decided to take a stroll around the mall to burn some of it off. Sephora was having a Christmas sale, and we both thought we could go with some new war paint for work. Upon entering, we’re greeted by name brand after name brand etched on stands that are completely wiped out.

We glance at the half-empty Bath and Glory stand, shower gels, bath bombs, skin rejuvenator, whatever that is. Sienna picked up a thin tube of what looks like clear lip gloss.

“Minty Lip Maximiser, perfect for tingly make-out sessions…” Sienna teased, and I can feel my face flush red.

Ethan and I were getting a little… steamy in the supply closet, and Sienna happened to barge in right in the middle of our lip-lock, and let’s just say it’s a miracle his tongue is still in one piece. It’s a hilarious story, but it’s one I’ll share another day.

“Sie, stop it. You’re embarrassing yourself,” I giggle as she starts making kissy faces and sloppy lip-smacking sounds.

“You should totally get this, trust me.”

She zips her lips and gives me a playful wink, a mischievous glint in her other, open eye. There’s something more to this. Something… sinful, perhaps? I just have to know more.

“Is there something more to the equation?”

Sienna pulls me in close, her lips merely an inch away from my ear. Her soft, lilting voice juxtaposes against the content of her whispers. I would have never pegged as someone who would do something like that, but I have been known to be wrong about these things. The corners of my mouth twist into a wicked grin as I formulate a plan in my mind to surprise Ethan, courtesy of Sienna’s mildly disturbing tale.

—

I head to Ethan’s apartment. I spend one or two nights here a week, even though he’s constantly begging for more, but I pay good money for the five-roomer every month, so I have to make sure I get my worth. I slipped the key into the keyhole, just tingling with anticipation to find out his response to my little prank. I scan my eyes around his apartment and find him sitting on the couch, reading (yes, you guessed it) a medical journal. He looks up and beams at me, a smile I absolutely adore.

“Hi, rookie.” He pats the seat next to him, inviting me to join him. I set my bag down on the counter and make my way to his uber comfortable couch. He pulls me in by the waist for a tight hug and I can smell the faint combination of cologne, detergent, and aftershave all over him. The scent is truly intoxicating, and I find myself breathing in deep, revelling in his warmth. He places a soft, tender kiss on my forehead, his light stubble tickling me as I lean into him.

“Hey, Dr Ramsey, how was your day off?”

I turn myself slightly and lean my legs on the rest of the available couch space. I’ve been on them for 10 days straight, being on call and having multiple shifts lined up. I could use about a week’s worth of bed rest. That is, only if he’s right next to me.

“It was fine. Not as good as it could have been…” he closes the journal and places it on the coffee table, giving me his undivided attention.

“Aww, why is that?” I feign ignorance as I run a hand through his soft, dark locks, tousling it in the process.

“I know you just want me to say it’s because you’ve been gone all day.”

“Alright, then say it.”

He sighs lightly, a smirk appearing on his lips.

“Fine. It’s because you, Dr Alexandria Lee, have been away from me for more than 12 hours, and I had to wake up all alone this morning, holding and kissing, mind you, what I thought was my beautiful girlfriend, but turned out to be a pillow that smelled exactly like your hair.”

Ethan Ramsey, whispering sweet nothings in my ear. The sky is falling.

“Well, let’s see what I can do to make up for it then.”

I shift slightly so that my legs were in his lap and lean in close to plant a kiss on his lips, but with one strong move, he pinned my wrists down onto the seat cushions and hovered over me, his breath warm against my neck. He starts attacking my neck with kisses, and they burn into my skin with great passion and desire. He catches me by surprise when he gently nibbles and sucks on the sensitive spot right below my earlobe. My shallow breaths hitch and a soft moan escape me before I could suppress it. All thoughts disperse from my head, like a cloud of smoke. I just need him to do this to me all night long. He pulls away all of a sudden.

“E, what…”

“Let’s save this for later.  After all, we’ve got all night. And I have plans for every single minute of it.”

As much as I hate being teased, delicious tingles run up and down my body. We’ve both got a day off tomorrow and I can’t wait to see what shenanigans we’d be up to. Something wholesome, or something a little… dirtier.

“You’re right. I’ll go take a shower.”

I grab my purse, careful to not let him see the sheer, flimsy garment I have hidden in it. I make my way to the en-suite bathroom as I feel his eyes on me.

“Dr Ramsey, don’t you know it’s impolite to stare?” I say without turning back.

“Well, I can’t help it because…” He trails off.

“Because what?” I turn back, and our eyes lock.

“I like you, rookie.”

And with that, he opens up the journal and begins reading again. I sigh contentedly.

“I like you too, doctor.”

I close the bedroom door and scavenge for my towel, which is neatly folded next to his in the bathroom. I find a cute little basket of bottles adorned with jasmines and candy canes. A note sits on top of it.

Some olfactory stimulation to match how gorgeous you are, both inside and out

- E

This man truly knows his way around my heart. I’ve only mentioned I love jasmine-scented things once in passing. I can’t believe he remembered. And there’s this note. I can’t believe he went to visit my favorite retailer to get this, especially since there aren’t many outlets in Boston.

The sky is truly falling, and so am I.

I untie the ribbon and take a deep sniff of the lovely scent. Mmm… jas-mint. I love it.

—

I step out of the shower, reaching for my fluffy lilac towel. It even smells like him. I wrap it around my shoulders, the thick material providing some warmth on this cold winter day. I hunt around for the blow-dryer and let the heat take away those wet hair shudders. I rummage through my bag and find the little black negligee that I ordered last week. It got here yesterday, just in time for our weekly rendezvous. I slip it on and toss my hair back before checking how everything looks in the mirror.

Perfect.

As if on cue, the little Sephora bag tumbles out of my purse. I almost feel guilty about my little plan, but curiosity has always got the best of me. I unwrap the tube and apply some of the plumper on my lips. It’s got a menthol-cool burn, but nothing I can’t handle. I just hope Ethan has the same tolerance level as I do.

I drop my purse on the bedroom floor and twist the doorknob open, poking my head out to the living room. Ethan’s in the same position, still engrossed in the journal. He doesn’t notice my stroll from the bedroom to the couch, nor did he sense my hovering presence.

I clear my throat. “Ahem, Dr Ramsey.”

He looked up at me, mouth gaping as he took it all in.

“Aly…”

He pulled me down onto his lap, his dilated pupils becoming a tell-tale sign about his positive reaction to my little get-up. Well, one of the signs anyway.

“Mmm?” I try to stimulate a response from him.

“You look amazing.”

“Kiss me,” I whisper in his ear while slipping his glasses off, trying to stifle all signs of my mean-spirited prank. As I say that, a part of me is kicking myself for ruining this moment, and another part of me is bursting with laughter, just awaiting his response. Either way, it’s too late to back out as he’s leaning in steadily, eyes fluttering shut. I reciprocate and we lock lips tenderly. A faint taste of scotch, mixed with the mint from my gloss. Mmm.

Before any one of us could deepen the kiss, he pulls away all of a sudden, eyes wide as saucers.

“Aly, what is that?” He says urgently, breathing in and out from his mouth. “Oh gosh, it burns!”

He yelps and starts fanning his lips. The sight of it makes me burst out in laughter. The usually stoic Dr Ethan J. Ramsey is flapping his hands about and making an involuntary duck face.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME, LEE?” He groans loudly.

I barely managed to catch my breath, and he starts yelping in pain, triggering a second wave of belly laughs. Oh gosh, no one will believe me when I tell this story.

“Lip plumper…” I whimper through my laughs.

“They feel so numb. Are they bigger?” He points to his swollen, red lips. Well, it did say extreme plumping on the packaging.

I nod cautiously because he seems angrier right now than I’ve ever seen him. His eyebrows furrow as he squeezes his eyes tight. I love this.

I walk over to the kitchen to get him a glass of water and he downs it quick. After about a minute, he calms down and regains his composure. I give him a little sideways smirk as I pout my lips slightly and lean in to kiss him again.

“Woah, woah, Lee,” he holds a hand up to cup my mouth. “There’s no way you’re getting near these lips for a week!”

“Aww come on. After so many naughty texts today and that hickie you left on me just now?” I push my hair to the side to reveal the bruise forming beneath my earlobe.

“Fuck…” He groans. I’ve got him hooked.

“How can I be sure that you don’t stab me in my sleep tonight?” He cautiously backs away from me.

“Oh come on, I think you’d be able to see if I have a knife hidden on me right now, right?” I stand up and do a slow twirl for him, making sure to slow down and display the back of my lace thong to him.

He stands up and grabs my wrist, pulling me into the bedroom.

“Fine, we’ll have to work out a punishment for your escapade, but you’re not getting that pretty little mouth anywhere near…”

“We’ll see…”

#ethan ramsey fanfiction #dr ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #playchoices #open heart #ethan ramsey #dr ethan ramsey

[ks-caster]

Beth Liveblogs Black Widow

Bought that premium access on Disney+ so I can have the privilege of pausing for snacks and using subtitles as needed - so let’s go! 

Beth’s Spoiler-Free Review: Overall I thoroughly enjoyed the movie - the plot was compelling, the characters were likable, and the stunts were really excellent. I felt like hair and makeup dropped the ball on realism multiple times which I was sad about, because how she looks seems to be pretty important to Nat so I expected it to be done well in her movie. 

I did not like the way they framed the tail end (denouement - obviously because this movie is mid-series we know how it ends to an extent) - I felt like the connect-up to Infinity War was lackluster, especially compared to how enjoyable and dynamic the rest of the film was.

Spoilery live-reactions are under the cut. Click at own risk! Feel free to rebagel with your own impressions, thoughts, jokes and rebuttals!

The movie begins with a young Nat with blue dyed hair and visible roots, showing her natural red. Do you know how hard it is to get natural red out of hair, enough to make it blue and not green? And I’m supposed to believe that a middle-school age girl in 1995 Ohio had access to these chemicals? I’ll give her the white hair in IW/Endgame because she’s an adult with a lot of experience as a spy altering her appearance. But as a child? In the 90s? While her family is apparently in hiding? Sus.

The scene with Alexei laying on the on the wing while Nat learns to fly? AMAZING stunts. Amazing. AND someone in an action movie is finally smart enough to shoot the tires.

Nice skills on young Nat, getting the gun. Since we know from Endgame that Nat’s father is named Ivan, we know that Alexei isn’t really her dad. She also refers to presumably the red room as going “back.” Was she lent out to these agents to legitimize their family?

-0-

Nice knife moves, Yelena - I love the hand switch.

Ooooh so she was being mind controlled and the red stuff freed her? Interesting.

-0-

Nat is in Norway - visit Thor! He’d love to have you. (I’m mixing up my timeline, aren’t I?)

Supplies Dude whose name I didn’t catch refers to the Avengers breakup as a divorce - I kinda love it. It’s accurate!

BUDAPEST omg are we finally going to get the story?? Are we??

Box dye? I’m supposed to believe she got all that red out of her hair with flippin’ Loreal? Really? And that toner isn’t even the color she ultimately went - it’s too yellow. Sus.

-0-

Oop, looks like Nat got caught up in Yelena’s desertion.

Do not give Nat your metal frisbee, robocop - she’s been around Steve long enough that she knows how to use it.

I laughed out loud when she did the string him up thing with the cables - literal spider move, I love it!

Mystery box is empty - classic bait and switch.

-0-

BUDAPEST - WE ARE IN BUDAPEST - IT’S HAPPENING PEOPLE

Nat closing the door behind her is a small thing but I appreciate it - no sneaking up behind her.

When Yelena throws Nat in the kitchen and her feet hit the door and she spins before she hits the ground? That was a helluva stunt.

Oooooh honey. No body left to check is ALWAYS movie code for they lived.

Dreykov’s daughter? Another hint from Avengers 2012? C’mon, movie.

Riding the chimney down? Another incredible stunt. 

Dreykov can scan his soldiers’ bodies and terminate them if they’re too damaged to keep fighting? Big yikes. With Nat where she is character development wise, the stakes are now much higher because if she injures an opponent they may be killed remotely.

“Do you want me to chase him down and un-steal it?”

The car door under the bike was an excellent stunt - as was the car going into the subway. Though I’ve never seen a subway entrance big enough to admit a car.

Who hasn’t wanted to slide down the middle to avoid the crowded escalators lol.

Yelena making fun of Nat’s sexy poses I am LIVING omg.

Running water for wounds. RUNNING WATER. NOT ALCOHOL. The vodka goes on the INSIDE for the pain - the running water cleans the OUTSIDE. If there’s a convenience store then there’s a bathroom, with running water. Cleansing with something like alcohol is a LAST RESORT and you do not look like you’re at that point resource-wise. I thought these ladies were supposed to be highly trained in all of the things?

“Could be fun though.” “I saw where he put the keys” “Top drawer green cabinet.” I love their chaos.

Yelena’s vest and its pockets and the resulting conversation are positively majestic.

“You are sensitive.” “You’re a very annoying person.”

-0-

Do! Not! Move! Around! Like! That! While! Getting! A! Tattoo!!!! That poor artist was trying his best and Alexei just...

Ooooh was Red Guardian like Captain Russia? Interesting.

“Just don’t make a scene.” “You made a scene didn’t you.”

David Harbor running up that wall and then wiping out after the guard shocks him... I really loved that stunt, especially since they don’t show him being all super cut - he’s a big guy! He’s allowed to have fat over his muscles and still be a strong dude! I love it.

“Such a poser.” Girl, you need to meet Loki - he does a lot of hair flips too lol.

The sibling energy between the girls during the rescue!!!

“Whooooooa... this would be a cool way to die.” Yelena, I’m not necessarily disagreeing with you but get your head in the game girl.

Poor Alexei - he never gets to do the dramatic escape from *inside* of the aircraft.

Hang on, no ovaries? So all of these women are now in immediate, surgically-induced menopause? The uterus part makes sense if the intent was to prevent them from getting pregnant if they have sex during a mission, but, what, they gotta be on estrogen supplements for the rest of their lives? That’s just really poor planning. Like it was hilarious the way Yelena went into the biology of it to make Alexei uncomfortable, but that really doesn’t make sense to do to your superhero kids. It’s just bad science.

Love that Yelena keeps her vest even after she changes into her matching white flight suit. That vest better make it to the end of the movie.

-0-

“Honey, we’re home.” I 100% expected her to shoot him on sight tbh. it would have been funny.

Alexei squeezing into the uniform is such a post-pandemic feel. Also all of the fancy braids at that table; I see where Natasha got her propensity for them.

Animal cruelty warning, ugh. Poor piggy Alexei.

Oooh the photo album and Natasha remembered staging the pictures; they’re emotional for her but in a different way.

I wonder if robocop’s shield is actually Alexei’s.

The singing between Alexei and Yelena was a really beautiful moment because it was neither auto-tuned-good nor hilariously bad - it felt really real, especially the way Yelena’s so choked up she can barely make sounds come out.

Uh-oh, mama has one of those monitor your vitals and kill your ass suits. The suits I understand - the eyeliner though... when and why did she do her makeup?? That’s not really the thing that comes to mind for me when I’m getting ready to do something athletic, like say kidnapping my supersoldier fake family.

“This is a much less cool way to die.” Also WTF why would they do that. Wouldn’t it be easier to get the information out of her while her brain is still attached to, y’know, her mouth??

CLEVER CLEVER CLEVER they switched outfits and faces ooooooh like mother like daughter.

The door opening as Alexei is leaning against it dramatically bahahahaha

I love the plan. I’m thoroughly weirded out that Melina has a red wig just lying around that perfectly immitates Natasha though. 

“Yelena, it’s mama. You have a two-inch blade in your belt.”

Oh. My. God.

Antonia.

A pheromone lock preventing them from hurting them if they’re close enough to smell him - I like it. It’s clever and new.

Bahahaha poser! You posed I saw you! Still love the vest.

Natasha is really good at manipulating people’s emotions to get what she wants - I mean, scary good. So if she’s provoking Dreykov into beating her up, there’s a reason. 

“Using the only resource the world has too much of - girls.” Kill him. 

-0-

When I say I whooped out loud... SEVERING THE NERVE. Thank you for your cooperation. YAAAAAAS QUEEN.

-0-

“Slight change of plans - we are going into a controlled crash.” The way she said that was just so mom-like omg!

-0-

The grenade as a delivery system was super smart - but yikes what if she’d mistimed it and blew Natasha up? Also, after the beating she took and how hard she had to wack her own face into the desk to sever her olfactory nerve and the amout of blood we saw her leave behind from doing that, her face should be a LOT more messed up, come on makeup department.

“Get as far away from here as possible.” And then keep going because General I-Collect-Supersoldiers-Like-Stamps Ross is about to turn up at your location looking for trouble and he’d snap you ladies up like there’s a fire sale and you’re going out of stock.

This crash doesn’t look all that controlled, Melina. I’m starting to suspect that most of the widows won’t live long enough to make their own decisions...

All of the aerial stunts were amaaaaaazing - the way Nat slowed herself by sliding down the panels so Antonia could catch up with her and she could deploy her parachute... 

The vest survived the movie!!!

Fuuuuuck Ross is showing up and he sucks and I hate him and I’m super worried that he’s gonna take the vest from Nat if he takes her into custody. Please don’t let her lose the vest. 

Okay, there is now zero reason for Nat to stay behind. They have an aircraft. She had plenty of time to just board it and leave?

-0-

Okay okay okay Ross did not get her and did not take the vest. But am I supposed to believe she bleached her hair, toned it blonde, and then re-bleached and re-toned it to silver? Who does that? That would be terrible for her hair. Her scalp would be burned all to hell from the amount of chemicals needed to not only get all that red out but THEN get the blonde toner out. Y’know what color silver toner is? Blue/purple. Y’know what happens when you mix that with yellow? Green. And not a nice green either (I speak from experience). No. Her hair at the end of the movie? Cancelled. 

-0-

SHE GOT THE DOG!!!

Oh, ouch. Big ouch. I hurt like a lot now. This is so not an okay way to end the -

...

Countess I-Forgot-Your-Name-Already?

Oh no. Oh no. That’s worse. That’s a lot worse. We are now setting up the Hawkeye series and I while I’m horrified that this was how they ended the film, I gotta say that’s going to make for some wonderful angst in that series on both Clint and Yelena’s parts and I am here for it!

OVERALL IMPRESSION

I really, really enjoyed this movie, I thought the story was compelling, the stunts were really excellent, and I liked the character dynamics and the twist

I did not like the ending - it just sort of fell off quickly and didn’t feel satisfying after an otherwise really fun movie. I also take issue with the hair and makeup as shown among the characters, as seen in my several rants to that effect.

I would have liked to have seen a few more childhood/training flashbacks, and absolutely would have loved a cameo from Jeremy Renner (not just his voice) and to see him and Nat meeting and him giving her the whole dad speech that he does so well - bonus points if she could have then quoted him to Yelena or Antonia, showing the way that multiple people had a formative effect on her (an answer to the “The Avengers aren’t really your family either” comment).

#BlackWidowSpoilers #Black Widow Spoilers #Beth Liveblogs Black Widow

[hankypranky]

Summary:  A door appears in the bunker leading to a bedroom with Gabriel’s comatose body. Sam crosses the threshold, unaware that he cannot return until Gabriel is conscious and strong enough to bridge the gap back into the bunker.

Characters: Sam Winchester, Castiel, Jack, Gabriel

Warnings: Olfactory sensitivities

Word count: 1744

Part 1

The bunker felt like a tomb. Jack, Sam and Castiel sequestered in their bedrooms. It had been 2 days since Dean had said yes to Michael. The shock was wearing off and Sam couldn't deny himself food any longer. The lights in the hallway felt dimmer than before, the floor cooler. Even the echo of his footsteps seemed louder.  

Nearing the kitchen Sam noticed a door. Despite it not being there last week, he felt the overwhelming desire to open it. With no number to identify it, he rubbed his hands on his flannel pajama bottoms pants and turned the knob.

A putrid odor assaulted his senses. He was familiar with scent of death, but this wasn't it. It was salty, tangy. Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness if the room he could make out a bed with a figure on top of the sheets. Sam's stomach heaved, but he crossed the threshold nonetheless.

As he approached the bed, he recognized the body laying perfectly still, Gabriel. He sucked in a breath and cautiously walked to his side. He turned the bedside light on and revealed Gabriel's clammy, almost gray skin. Sam reached out to touch the back of his hand to his forehead. He retracted his hand quickly when the coolness of his skin scorched his own.

He steadied himself, and placed both hands around Gabriel's face to gently roll his head in his direction. Sam slid his hand down to his pulse point, and realized he didn't even know if he would have a heartbeat. With his fingers pressed against his neck, he was relieved to feel a small thud against his finger tips. A few seconds passed and he felt another one.

A small sob fell from his lips, he felt a little less sorrow than he had 5 minutes ago. Unsure of what to do, he prayed to Castiel and Jack. Within moments they stood in the doorway.

Castiel's voice was rougher than usual, having not spoken in days. "Sam. Is- Is that Gabriel?" Sam, not wanting to look away, nodded and quietly said yes. Jack was about to come into the room when Castiel grasped his shoulder and pulled him back. "This room is in another dimension. Sam, are you feeling any ill effects?"

He was startled, "What? No. I've only been in here a few minutes I was on my way to the kitchen when I saw this door."

"And in typical Winchester fashion, you decided to walk right through it." Disdain dropping off each word.

Sam's blood ran cold, and he squared off to face him. He bit back his tongue when he saw how distressed Cas looked. "Can we remove him?"

Castiel's eyes were muted and he turned his head and squinted. "I think it would be unwise, even if it were possible." He turned to Jack knowing with his limited grace, he would still be able to sense it better than he, "What do you feel emanating from this room?"

Half his face crinkled as he thought. He raised his hand and pressed his eyes shut. "Power. It's a pocket dimension? It feels like it's connected to the Apocalypse world."

"Do you feel it connected to this one?" Castiel asked.

Jack shook his head. "No. How is that?" Sam sucked in a deep breath. He was stuck.

He didn't wait for a response from Cas, he knew. "Because Gabriel was an expert at manipulating dimensions and creating his own. I suppose the door appearing was his way of asking for help."

"I concur."

'God damn Gabriel' He sat down on the bed and Gabriel's body josseld a bit, Sam not really caring. "So, I'm stuck in this room until I can get him to wake up?"

"At least you have a bathroom for your human needs." Castiel pointed to the en suite that was connected. Sam huffed out an annoyed breath.

Jack took a candy bar out of his pocket and tossed it at him, "Catch". Sam caught the snack with both his hands. It was a relief to know objects could be passed into the room.

He ran a hand through his thick chestnut hair. "Ok. Okay. If I'm stuck here I need to clear the smell out of this room. Can one of you guys bring a fan to the edge of the door?"

"Sure," replied Jack, and disappeared.

Cas' tilted his head and inhaled. "His vessel is the early stages of decay.” That comment caused Sam to slap his head to his forehead. “Though, that is not the origin of the odor. It is his wings. I do not know how long it has been since he has last preened them, but it is the oil and the excess feathers. It is very unhealthy. It will be most beneficial for you to preen them Sam.”

Sam’s mouth fell open, “Excuse me? How the hell could I preen his wings if I can’t even see them?”

“Oh, calm down. I may be able to find a spell in which you can see them. I don’t think you will go blind either, being the vessel of an archangel.” His eyes looked Sam up and down. “ I believe you will be a great comfort to him. I passed down this hall earlier and did not see this door. I will be back when I find something,” with a nod, Cas departed.

Sam rubbed his hands over his face. He felt so weak, and now he was trapped. He looked down at Gabriel, there was a tiny spark of hope growing within him, but he was afraid to acknowledge it. He grabbed a wet cloth from the bathroom and began cleaning Gabriel’s face and neck. He looked so close to death, he prayed to him. ‘Gabriel, I'm here. You have to come back to us. This is your home. You come back to us, you hear?’

There was noise at the doorway, and saw Jack had come back with the fan. He turned it on, even though the breeze was nice, the smell was just circulating around. “Jack, can you push it in here with your foot? I think it needs to be exhausted out.” The fan came through the threshold and Sam turned it into the hall. “Thanks.”

A sliver of a smile was on the young nephilims face, “This is a good thing. Gabriel is alive.”

Sam pursed his lips, unsure of this entire situation but agreed. “Yea’. Yea’, it is.”

“You will need your strength. Let me make you a sandwich.” He turned and left so quickly, Sam didn't have time to tell him what he wanted. He had seen what Jack ate. He hoped he wouldn't bring him anything strange.

In the meantime, Sam washed Gabriel’s hands. He was thorough, he knew cleanliness was one of Gabriel’s virtues. His hands were so small in his, so soft. He sat there for a moment, and tried to will his need for him to wake onto Gabriel when he heard Jack at the door.

He placed the plate on the floor, and pushed it across the line with his toe. Sam went over to bend over and pick it up. Lettuce, that's definitely a good thing. “I made you a peanut butter and lettuce sandwich,” he said enthusiastically. “I know how much you like green food, and I read about ‘ants on a log’, so I thought it would go great together.”

It was sweet of him. “Thank you, Jack.”

“I am going to go help Castiel, so if you need anything, pray to me.”

Sam nodded and sat in the chair in the corner. His eyes flickered between Gabriel and his food. The odor in the room was dissipating. He wasn't sure if he was getting used to it, or if the fan was doing its job, but he thought he would be able to eat. The first bite he took was definitely a little strange, but it was good. Calories is what he needed. Sam had no complaints about the sandwich, and he was grateful for his family, as small as it was now. They needed a way to get Dean back, and helping Gabriel is a foot in the right direction. If he can't take care of himself, how was he supposed to get to help Gabe?

Sam was determined to strip Gabriel and cleanse his body as best as he could. On the edge of the bed, he lifted him forward in order to peel off his jacket. His dead weight rested against him. He removed his shirt as well. Carefully, he set him back on the bed. He slowly removed his shoes and socks. Sadly, his skin was cool to the touch and clammy.

Before unhooking his belt, Sam was sure that Gabriel had on underwear. He was relieved to find he was wearing boxer briefs. As he took his pants off, he pulled the cover over him to his waist so he could clean his upper body. When he was done, he placed the sheets on his top half before moved to his lower body.

Sam had been attentive, and giving someone a bed bath was laborious enough. It was almost as if he had been worshiping his body, a thought he had actively had to disregard.

Closing his eyes, he laid next to Gabriel and fell asleep.

When Sam awoke a few hours later, he didn't feel much better. He hadn't heard from Cas or Jack yet, and the smell of Gabriel’s wings was a bit stronger. Sam rolled over to face his archangel.

He laid a hand on his chest, and felt his slow breath. ‘Gabriel, if you can hear me, I'm here.  We're going to get you back.’ His eyes closed, and he tried to push his resilience to him. It was then when he felt a strange tug from Gabriel from his innermost part, his soul.

Sam had been a vessel to two angels, possessed by a demon, poisoned by a djinn, seduced by power and addiction. Fed on by a vampire; yet this was different.

He let down his shields down and let Gabriel form a connection between the two of them. It was minuscule, but he could feel the tendrils of another reach out to him. It was draining, but he responded as much as he could to the ghost of a cord that was being formed in the haze of sleep.

inspired by @creativepromptsforwriting #381

#sabriel #sabriel fic #wing preening #spn fic #hurt/comfort #13x23 spoilers #gabriel #angel of spn

[lastpic21]

LIGHT SHINES IN DARKNESS

On the twelfth day after birth, the first major change becomes visible in one of the puppies. Kairos, Anka’s second male, begins to open his eyes. This signals the start of the transitional period of development, a week when many of the pup’s sensory capacities begin to function. Contrary to what you might expect, this is no small accomplishment. A puppy’s eyes do not open all at once. Instead, this is a gradual process that may take well over twenty-four hours to complete. At first, his eyes seem like dark little slits, begging to be pried open. Then, slowly, as if he is waking from a deep sleep, they become more visible, their grayish-blue, semiopaque color giving them an unworldly appearance. It is only after about five weeks that they will become clear and distinctive, reaching their adult coloration.

By the fifteenth day, all of the puppies in the litter have their eyes wide open, and a parallel increase in activity occurs. They crawl around the nest and continually bump into one another. Despite the fact that their eyes are open, the pups still do not see very well. Shining a penlight into Kairos’s left eye causes the pupil to contract; quick gestures in front of him, however, evoke no reaction, and a sudden movement directly toward him does not make him blink. It is not until about twenty-eight days that a pup is able to begin clearly distinguishing forms, though occasionally we have seen puppies become startled by quick, threatening movements as early as the seventeenth day, apparently due to the darting of shadows. Thus, during this time we take care not to make sudden moves that could frighten the pups.

The process of eye opening is symbolic of everything that happens during this stage—a steady, gradual transformation. It is the first clear sign of the passage from the insulated newborn stage to the fully social existence of an adult. This is why we call this period transitional. It is a week of dramatic change. By the end of this stage, the pups will have received, albeit at an immature level, all the basic tools of life: sight, hearing, walking, the ability to eliminate by themselves,chewing, and a more refined sense of smell. Because of this, the pups will become much more sensitive to their environment than they were before.

For example, during the neonatal period, puppies have no sense of place. If you remove one and put him in a different room, alone, at the same temperature as the nest and on a comfortable surface, the pup will show no sign of distress, provided he is not hungry. Now, however, since Anka’s puppies are becoming aware of one another and of their nest, when we repeat this same experiment with Kipper, we see a marked change. After poking his head around for several moments, he suddenly begins to whimper and show signs of distress. The whimper then turns into a wail. Clearly he has no taste for being alone!

Once their eyes are fully open, the puppies begin investigating the small world of the nest. Looking at them now, we see that they are trying out life for the first time. They start to crawl backward as well as forward, and quickly move on to the first clumsy attempts at walking. This reflects the basic pattern of a puppy’s becoming aware of himself and his surroundings.At the daily weighing session on the sixteenth day, Oka and Sunny are the first to try walking. As they attempt to stand on the scale, they shake the platform precariously and are unable to maintain their balance. This, however, is just the beginning. Their efforts continue when they are returned to the nest. Standing up ever so tentatively, wobbling from side to side, Sunny finally takes two brave steps forward only to flop over onto a sleeping Kipper, creating a very cranky outburst. Quickly crawling backward, Sunny barks indignantly in a comically high pitchand tries to stand once again. Meanwhile, Oka is a little less adventurous. She simply attempts to remain standing without falling over. Lacking the confidence to actually try walking, she finally crouches back down, crawls over to the other pups, and falls asleep. Throughout all this, Anka looks on from outside the nest with what seems to be mild amusement.

The seed of example has been planted. The following day, all of the pups except Yola are beginning to give walking a try, basically following the same pattern. Together, they are like a group of youngsters learning how to ride bicycles for the first time. They have little coordination and make numerous false starts, but their proficiency improves daily. By the end of a week they will be able to walk around the nest without much trouble at all.

About this time we notice something else: the puppies are beginning to sniff around the nest. The refinement of the sense of smell that has been occurring since birth stimulates their curiosity, and they are soon snuffling one another, the newspapers, and Anka. If we pick them up and hold them close to our faces, they sniff and try to suckle the skin, awkwardly probing our cheeks. To reinforce this contact, we put an old cotton sock or unwashed cotton T-shirt into the nest so that the pups will be continuously exposed to human scent as they grow.

Given the fact that the olfactory area of adult dogs is fourteen times larger than a human’s and that their overall ability to smell is estimated conservatively at one hundred times more sensitive, we can begin to realize the role scent plays in a dog’s understanding of the world. While we depend more on our eyes for information, dogs rely on their noses, learning much about their environment from the currents of air that pass their way.

Connected with this rise in inquisitiveness is the emergence of the upper canine teeth, which can be felt around the eighteenth and nineteenth days. Not only does this development set the stage for a transition to more solid foods, but it is likely that the pressure of the incoming teeth prompts puppies to begin exploring one another. As Sunny’s upper teeth start to emerge on the nineteenth day, he begins to chew and suck on the other puppies’ ears, paws, and muzzles. This happens in slow motion and is accompanied by the first signs of tail wagging. Like a chain reaction, the other pups begin to reciprocate. Thus the first real sessions of play begin.

Hearing is the last sensory faculty to develop, with the ears opening at about twenty days. Beginning with the seventeenth day, we check for this by periodically clapping our hands over each pup’s head. The noise elicits no response until the twentieth day. Then Oka and Kipper both react to it, especially Oka, who yips a little and starts moving backward—an understandable expression of alarm. She recovers quickly, however, taking several steps forward with an inquisitive look on her face as she mutters under her breath.

When testing to see if they can hear, we are careful not to clap too loudly, because what the pups experience for the first time can leave a strong fear imprint. Emerging from a silent world into one of sound should happen as naturally as possible to allow the pups to adjust without excessive trauma.

The type of mild-stress handling that we expose the puppies to during this week follows the same principle. Our purpose is to stimulate the puppy, not traumatize him. We find two exercises especially beneficial. In the first, an elevation exercise, we hold the pup in midair until he begins to squirm and protest. We then draw him close and stroke him gently to allow him to settle down. In the second, a dominance exercise, we place the pup on a soft surface, roll him onto his back, and hold him there for ten to fifteen seconds. Once the pup begins to struggle and squeal (and most do!), we turn him upright again and stroke him gently. After a week of this, the puppies associate gentle petting with the end ofstress. It also helps dispose the pups to human presence and handling, which we will increase in the upcoming weeks.

One final observation: during the transitional period we begin a weekly grooming session that teaches the puppies how to be handled and touched—ears are cleaned, nails clipped, and the fur lightly brushed. At first, the novelty of the handling causes some minor protestations from the pups, but after a few sessions they come to enjoy it. We continue this practice at least once a week until the puppies are placed in their new homes. As you can imagine, this type of handling can make all the difference in your early attempts to pick up and groom your puppy.

In this week of transition the newborns become more recognizably puppies both in the way they look and in how they act. They now stand poised for the move into social existence. Yet this phase is transitional not only for the pups but for Anka, whose behavior reflects a change of role. Before, she was in the nest continuously, jealously guarding and caring for her whelps; now she modifies her vigilance by spending time outside the nest, resting while her pups are asleep. She also wants to play. In the first two weeks, even the sight of her much-loved tennis ball could not coax her away from the pups; at this point, a little bored, she eagerly jumps up at the gate to greet her guardian, trying to get him to play and take her for a walk. She has no worry about leaving her pups briefly. This is the beginning of her natural disengagement from them, which will continue for the next several weeks until they are on their own.

[maryanntorreson]

How literature can help you better connect with others

Pete Ryan

Greetings from an evangelist for a declining field: literature!

English majors, like all humanities majors, are on the wane. In the US alone, one-third of the degrees from liberal arts colleges were awarded in the humanities before 2011; now just one-quarter are. At research universities, humanities degrees have dropped from 17% to 11%.

So, in some ways, it makes sense that the study of literature is less popular. But guess what else is on the outs? Empathy. A study which analyzed 15,000 college students found that they’re scoring 40% lower in empathy than those in the past.

What’s the connection? I’ve spent the past two decades in the classroom teaching literature, and what I deeply believe — and what the emerging field of literary neuroscience is beginning to prove — is that literature makes us more empathetic.

Are we frustrated or sympathetic with Hamlet’s reluctance to avenge his father? When Jane Eyre realizes Mr. Rochester is married, do we urge her to flee Thornfield, or to stay?

During engaged reading, we compare the protagonist’s actions to what we’d do in a similar situation or what we’ve done in the past. The mind-reading we do when thinking through a character helps us develop social sensitivity, as demonstrated ingeniously by the “reading the mind in the eyes” test. In this study, participants were presented with a series of gray-scale photos cropped to reveal only a person’s eyes. They were then asked to identify the expression contained in the eyes from four options. Turns out, regular readers of fiction scored higher on this test, and I think it’s because reading gives us practice taking on another’s point of view. We may stereotype bookworms as paste-eating, socially awkward loners, but reading literature helps us read the room.

How do books pull off their magic trick of transporting us into another person’s body? Taking a look at the brain — specifically, the multiple regions that engage and coordinate when we read — gives us a clue.

One of my favorite authors is Jane Austen, and in one of my favorite studies, literature PhD students were given a Jane Austen novel to read — but not on a couch. Instead, they read the Austen inside a fMRI Machine, which depicts brain activity by detecting changes in blood flow. Natalie Phillips, the literary scholar who worked on the study, hypothesized that the subjects, while reading, would experience an increase in blood to the areas of the brain responsible for processing language. To her surprise, the students experienced a dramatic global increase, with blood flowing to areas that have nothing to do with processing language.

Say you read a passage about running through a forest. You’d expect the left temporal lobe, the area responsible for language processing, to light up. It does — but so does the frontal lobe’s motor cortex, which coordinates the body’s movements. In fact, it lights up in the same way it would if you were actually running. Say you read the words “lavender” or “coffee” or “cinnamon.” You’ll experience the activity we’d expect in your left temporal lobe but you’d also have activity in your olfactory cortex, which lights up in the same way it would if you were actually smelling those scents.

This kind of activity doesn’t happen with fact-based nonfiction, such as political journalism, movie reviews, or Ikea bookshelf assembly manuals. That Ikea manual might result in a cool bookcase, but if you want to light up your brain like fireworks on the Fourth of July, you need to stock that bookcase with Jane Austen (and read it).

Is there any practical application to this increased brain connectivity? 

What if I told you that empathy we feel for characters could make people less racist? That what was demonstrated by Dan Johnson, who used Saffron Dreams, a novel from the point of view of a Muslim-American woman, to see if empathetic reading could reduce racial bias. For his study, Johnson divided the participants into two groups. Half of them read a 3,000-word excerpt from the novel. The other half read a 500-word synopsis of that excerpt, which retained all the facts but none of the character’s rich interior life, dialogue or metaphors, or sensory details that make a book come alive. Afterwards, participants were presented with photos of what Johnson described as “ambiguous Arab-Caucasian faces,” some of which appeared angry. When asked to identify the race of the person in the photo, participants who read the fact-based synopsis were disproportionately likely to categorize the angry faces as Arab. This bias was absent among those who read the lush, transporting excerpt.

Children, too, can improve their opinions about stigmatized groups through reading, as proven in a study using the first Harry Potter book in Italy, a country where immigrants are often stigmatized. The control group read a passage in which Harry gets his first wand. The other group read a passage relating to prejudice, in which Draco Malfoy, a shockingly blond pure-blood wizard, calls Harry’s friend Hermione “a filthy little Mudblood.” A week later, the children’s attitudes were assessed, and those who’d read the passages dealing with prejudice had significantly improved attitudes towards immigrants.

These findings make me think of the students in my office who are struggling over whether or not to choose to be an English major because they want to be successful. If by “success,” they mean the highest average starting salary, perhaps I should lead them from the English building towards the Business Administration building. But if success means helping to create a more harmonious world, pull up a chair.

I know some folks play fantasy football; I play fantasy fiction seminar and my “players” are those most in need of the heightened brain connectivity that literature induces — namely world leaders and policymakers. Imagine if, before initiating aggressive military action, leaders had to read a novel from the point of view of an enemy combatant. Imagine if, before cutting social services, legislators had to inhabit the interior life of a person who is on welfare. Imagine if leaders couldn’t set a prison sentence or create immigration policy until they’d aced my midterm. We would have a world in which decisions are informed by empathetic imaginations, processed by brains experiencing increases of blood flow to multiple areas of the brain.

I’ve been discussing all the ways that literature educates us emotionally, cognitively, and spiritually, but I’d like to end with what it does for us hedonistically.

Don’t read because it’s good for you. Read because it’s good. Doesn’t it taste so good to suck a novel’s sweet juice? Reading not only helps us feel — it helps us feel better. Books make us less isolated. As James Baldwin once put it, “You think your pain and your heartbreak are unprecedented in the history of the world, but then you read.”

The best takeaway from literary neuroscience is that our beautiful brains are tremendously malleable. We can change our minds, literally.

So why not give it a try? Go lose yourself in a book. Which is also to say: Go find yourself. And, while you’re at it, find the rest of us, too.

This article was adapted from a TEDxUniversityofMississippi Talk. Watch it here:

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Beth Ann Fennelly is the poet laureate of Mississippi and teaches in the MFA Program at the University of Mississippi, where she was named Outstanding Teacher of the Year. Her sixth book, Heating & Cooling: 52 Micro-Memoirs (W. W. Norton) was an Atlanta Journal Constitution Best Book of 2017. Learn more at http://www.bethannfennelly.com

This post was originally published on TED Ideas. It’s part of the “How to Be a Better Human” series, each of which contains a piece of helpful advice from someone in the TED community; browse through all the posts here.

How literature can help you better connect with others published first on https://premiumedusite.tumblr.com/rss

[howtohero]

Hey, I don’t know if you take asks but what would you say about the pros and cons of super senses

I do take asks! Asks are my favorite!

#085 Super Senses

As I’m sure you know (and if not here’s some kindergarten level education for free) most humans have five sense. Taste, sight, smell, touch, hearing (I feel like their should be a one syllable word for hearing, it really throws everything off.) There are various robots, aliens, mutants, fifth-dimensional imps, and fifth dimensional-alien-mutant-robotic imps that have a couple more senses like bar-code-scanning and humidity testing but for now lets just focus on the main five.

TasteFolks with super-taste can generally live pretty cushy lives. While they might not be able to make it as a superhero on super-taste alone they can make it as a super-restaurant critic. That’s a job where you get to eat at fancy restaurants for free and (as if that weren’t enough) you get paid to insult them. As a super-taster you will wield full and complete power over the restaurant industry in your area. You won’t even have to worry about competition from other critics. Your superhumanly enhanced food opinions will be taken way more seriously than anybody else’s. If you want nothing but pizza and donut fusion shops in your neighborhood you can make it so! However, super-taste is not without it’s drawbacks. You’ll experience every bad taste just as strongly as you’d experience any good taste and let me tell you, there’s a lot of gross stuff out there and some of it sometimes find its way into your mouth. That’s going to suck for a super-taster. Also, I’m pretty sure if a super-taster gets poisoned they get super-poisoned (whatever that means to you).

SightSuper-vision is a very handy power to use. You’ll never need to shell out loads of money for telescopes or microscopes or binoculars or reading glasses ever again! Impress all your optometrist-ocquaintances by always absolutely nailing the eye-chart examinations! Paint more vibrantly than ever before due to your enhanced ability to perceive color! Additionally people with super-sight can be a huge help in search and rescue operations and act as a sort of early-warning system in the event of an oncoming alien invasion or non-sentient-space-junk-such-as-meteors-and/or-asteroids invasion. The only problems that come with super-sight only arise if you’re not especially well-trained in using these abilities. When rookie-super-seers first get their powers they often have trouble controlling them and deciding when they need to telescope or microscope or otherwise enhance their vision leading to migraines, eye-strain and seeing things you never wanted to see and now can never unsee unless you hit up Professor Brain-Scrambler’s Memory Wiping Kiosk in the mall, but that guy is an accredited supervillain so I suggest not availing yourself of his services.

SmellA hero with enhanced olfactory systems or a “super-snooper” as it sometimes colloquially known, can be a huge asset in any crime-fighting team. They can act as a human bloodhound, sniffing out drugs, corpses, expired milk, anything. A hero with super-smell is the ultimate tracker and can even act as a taste-tester without the risk of death that that job usually entails. That’s right, we’re talking risk-free employment with kings that’s a pro if I ever heard one. Heroes with super-smell can sniff out poisons and gasses that are widely believed to be scentless. They can smell something and identify the object, food, or perfume’s component scents and even sometimes determine where each component originated from in the world. The major downside to super-smell is that it’s not really a power you can turn on and off at will. Just like tastes, there are a lot of terrible smells in the world, especially when you’re knee-deep in the dirty, crime-ridden world of being a superhero. Plus you’re going to be uncomfortably aware of every time somebody near you farts. 

TouchPeople with super-touch can usually determine what an object is made out of just by touching it. This is certainly a cool party trick but it doesn’t have a lot of uses in the superheroic world. It definitely has some uses, but like, if you’re going to be a full-time superhero and that’s your entire shtick, you’re going to spend a lot of the time being bored or sitting in your team’s base. It might be better to just market yourself as some sort of super-touch consultant for when the more “super strength and laser-eyed” heroes need to figure out what some bomb or abomination of science or sandwich is made out of. Or you can start some sort of live-therapy talkshow called “Super-Touching” and help people get to the heart of their emotional issues. Your powers won’t grant you a deeper insight into these kinds of things, but they will give you a great name for your show. The major downside to this power is that you’re going to feel everything a lot. Your nerves will be hyper-stimulated and hyper-sensitive. You’ll probably need to invest in silk everything, clothing, sheets, toilet paper. Everything else might feel like sandpaper. 

HearingGosh it’s like BiteLock from Droidsaurs (a super cool team of crime-fighting robotic dinosaurs that are constantly showing up at super-battles and making Professor Paleontologist look like a fool). All of them have monosyllabic names and then this guy shows up with a polysyllabic name. Like slow your roll dude. You don’t need that many syllables. Anyway, super-hearing is really the cream of the crop here, so I guess maybe that’s why it gets that extra syllable (seeing, tasting, touching, and smelling are all words). With super-hearing (and super-training) you’ll always know what’s going on around you. You’ll be able to pick up on every movement, every word, even every breath in a considerably large radius, which, as with the other super-senses, can be very overwhelming without proper training and practice on filtering. Once you’ve got that noise mastered though, you’ll be unstoppable. You can be a ninja, a rodeo clown, a bat, the possibilities are endless. Plus you’ll always know when someone is talking smack about you. This way you can go and fight them. And you’ll always know when someone is saying nice things about you. Except you’ll never know if they’re only saying nice things about because they know you can hear them or if they actually think highly about you. I guess that, in essence, is the true downside to super-hearing. Never knowing if people are being real with you. 

Any and all of these powers can be highly useful to a superhero as long as you’re willing to put the work in to master them. Sensory-overload can be debilitating the untrained super-sensor so it’s best to find someone who is more experienced than you at dealing with these things to help guide you through this process. Until you can do that I recommend finding one thing in your immediate vicinity to focus on. Use that object or person or place as an anchor of sorts before you start using your powers. This way if things get overwhelming, and they very quickly can, you can refocus yourself on your anchor and begin to shut everything else out. 

I hope this was as helpful for you as it was for me and as always everybody should feel free to ask me questions on superheroing (it was helpful for me because now I can save the post I had written up for tomorrow for Thursday, and the post I had written for Thursday can get bumped to next week and boom suddenly I’m ahead of schedule). 

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