#Well the good thing out of it would be that on the first time period hits Fulgrim would lay in bed in fetal position

[anakinstwinklebunny]

PAIRING: nerd!anakin x f!reader

It was Valentine’s Day, and you were nervously sitting in your first-period class, the one that teacher was too tired to conduct. So here you were, tapping the pen to the rhythm of the music in your earbuds, just when the door opened and in walked ANAKIN SKYWALKER. He was too early, eyes wide as he scanned the room, and there was something a little off about the way he walked towards your desk. You looked up, raising an eyebrow, confused and filled with curiousity.

He grinned sheepishly as he stopped in front of you, holding something behind his back. Cheeks flushed a shade of red that made your heart race and throb.

“Hey... uh,” he started, shifting from foot to foot, “I know we’re kind of in the middle of class, but I, uh... I wanted to give you something.”

You furrowed your brows, still confused. What on earth was Anakin doing?

Before you could say anything, he carefully pulled a little bouquet of LEGO flowers from behind his back. Each petal was a different color, perfectly symmetrical, the craftsmanship clearly done with so much love and attention. Your mouth fell open in surprise.

“Anakin,” you whispered, eyes wide in awe. “You... you built this?”

He nodded vigorously, trying to keep his cool but failing miserably. “Yeah, I thought it would be different. Y’know, special...like you..But... do you like it?” His voice was low, almost shy

“I love it,” you replied, smiling softly. “You built this for me?”

“I—of course - yeah,” he said, looking down at the flowers as though they were the most precious thing in the world right behind you. “I spent... a lot of time on it..to he honest..You’re... special...as I said..So-uh- I wanted it to be perfect.”

“Anakin, this is amazing.”

His grin grew wider. “Really? You’re not just saying that?”

You laughed softly, reaching up to touch the flowers. “I’m not. Thank you, Ani.”

Then, as if on cue, he pulled out a second bouquet—this time, real flowers, bright red roses and daisies—before placing them on your desk with a bashful smile. "And these are... uh, just 'cause," he added, looking down at the ground.

“You’re spoiling me,” you teased gently, reaching for the flowers, still in awe of how thoughtful he was.

“N-no,” he stammered, shaking his head. “I... I just wanted to make today special for you. It’s... Valentine’s Day, and I—well, I--" he took a sharp breath in "I love..you.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his quiet confession. “I love you, too,” you whispered back.

After classes, Anakin was practically dragging you by your hand to the LEGO store. He didn’t even try to hide his excitement. It was adorable to watch as he pulled you through the aisles, practically vibrating with energy.

“This way!” he said, squeezing your hand as he led you to the custom build section. “I wanna make us.”

“Make us?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” face lighting up. “You and me. I’ll make you. And you can make me.”

You both sat down at the station, and he immediately got to work, expertly assembling the pieces for your little LEGO figure. You, on the other hand, took your time, teasing him with little glances as you slowly put together the figure of him.

When you finally finished, he gave you a playful smirk. “You, uh... did me justice, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did,” you teased back, carefully attaching the head to the torso. “Look how handsome you are.”

He grinned, his eyes twinkling. “You’re just too good at this,” he murmured.

Once they were finished, he attached his to your keyring. “You can carry me around wherever you go. I’ll be your little mini me.”

You smiled, taking your keyring and attaching his LEGO figure to your bag. “I’ll always have you with me for now on"

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17-deactivated2025 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty @luluartpop @nikiloveshayden @cloverina

[georgiapeach30513]

Daddy's Pride and Joy

Summary: Andy wanted you. He wanted things right. But your dad refused. What other choice did he have?

Pairings: Andy Barber X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, narrow views of sex due to the time period, slut shaming, unprotected sex, breeding kink, PIV sex, first time, creampie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 3.9K

Andy Barber Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

Your mom fiddles around with a bouquet of roses and daisies, refusing to meet your eyes. You’ve heard her talk about how you made a mistake for weeks now. How you put yourself in this position. That you should consider yourself lucky that things are going the way they are. And still you feel her judgemental gaze as she peeks at you over the bouquet.

“Marge?” your grandmother questions your mother. Picking up your dress, she then turns to look at you. “What did you do, you stupid girl?” You hold your head high as your sister starts to zip the dress up. Grunting when she reaches a snag. Well…it is now too tight.

“How far along are you?” You play dumb. The dress wasn’t supposed to be a give away. Your grandmother walks behind you to help your sister. “You could have gone with a bigger dress.”

“It fit last week,” your sister is much too young, and does not understand the adult conversation happening between you and the women who are ashamed of you.

“That far along, huh? Are we going to have to bribe someone to lie about the date on the marriage certificate?”

“No,” Andy told you everything would be okay. And it would be. Everything would be just fine.

“Marge?” Your dad peeks out the front window, watching as the little boy from down the street pushes you in the swing. “Marge!”

“Yes, dear,” your mother responds. She wipes her hands on her apron as she walks into the living room.

“Who is that boy?” He points to the little boy with the bright blue eyes that had captured your heart the moment he and his mother moved down the street. “Hmm?”

“The kid from the old house up the street,” it isn’t like your father didn’t know this already. He asked about him every time you played with him. The problem was your father didn’t like him. Didn’t think the son of a single mother was good enough for his precious angel.

“The one whose father is in jail?”

“That would be the one. She fancies him.”

“I think he just sees an access to money,” your mother rolls his eyes, as she starts to step back into the kitchen to prepare lunch. “You laugh at me, but kids younger and younger are being taught by their parents the best way to money is finding some stupid girl that has a rich family to marry. He sees an in. A respectable man that owns a magazine, like myself. The heir…”

“We’re not royalty. His mother says he wants to be a lawyer.”

“Bah. That kid is a loser.”

“Sir,” your father attempts to close the door in Andy’s face, but the younger man places a foot there first. “I would like to take your daughter out on a date.”

“No,” he deadpans. “Is that all?”

“Why can’t I take her on a proper date?” He looks the man up and down. The scrawny little kid has filled out. But the reputation of a son raised by a single mom still lingered. A son who had to get a job far too young to make sure that he and his mother could survive. A son that was accepted into college, and now about to graduate Harvard law. And still he isn’t good enough for you. He is no good. And never would be.

“What do you mean by proper?”

“Oh, umm…I didn’t mean anything by it,” he meant he didn’t want to wait below your window as you snuck out with him. In order to not be spotted, he’d just take you on long walks at night, where eventually the two of you would lay looking at the stars. It was kind of infuriating to have you all alone. But you are a respectable woman. And clothes always stayed on.

“You know, Dwayne down the street mentioned something about you and her. Now, I thought it was a bit crazy to suggest that my daughter was riding in a car with the likes of you after midnight,” Andy stands up straighter. Nothing had ever crossed a line. But he has every intention of marrying you, and would prefer it be done the right way. “I want you to stay away.”

“I want to marry your daughter.”

“Over my dead fucking body,” Andy’s cheerful face turns sour, and he glares at your father. “You know nothing about my daughter.”

“I know that she prefers the moon over the sun. I know that her favorite flower is a lily, but your wife thinks her room looks better with roses and daisies. I know that she wants a big family, and wants to live just out of the city. I know she wants a dog, a golden retriever, and name her Bagel,” your dad stumbles back on that. You said you never would tell anyone that unless you knew they loved you. “I know she loves baking, and she loves to read. I know that you taught her to type.”

“You’re not marrying my daughter. Do you know why?” Andy shakes his head. He has done everything a man should do. He even has a job lined up. He has a home he is going to buy, just for the two of you, and eventually your children, and Bagel. He has a car. He will provide for you. “You’re a piece of shit, born from a piece of shit. Do you not think I know about your bastard father rotting in prison? Do you not think I don’t know about how your mom was making some extra money? You’ll never be good enough for my daughter. Never.”

—

You lean outside of your window, smiling when you see Andy on the lawn. Throwing your legs out of the window, you shimmy towards the tree branch, and make your way towards the most perfect man you have ever met. Getting down to his arms, where he gives you a bruising kiss. His hand is holding onto you a bit too high on your rib cage, and his thumb grazes over your breast before you jump away from him. He shouldn’t touch you there while at your parents’ home.

“Where are we going tonight?” your voice is so soft as he grips your hand, and leads you down the road and to his parked car. You are so proud of Andy and all that he has earned.

“Did you talk to my dad?” Andy opens the door of the car for you, and closes it before he crosses over to the other side. “Andy, did you talk to him?” He has to let you date Andy now. He is a lawyer. And you weren’t some shy little girl anymore. You wanted to become his wife, and have cute babies with him. And the sooner that this was public, the sooner you can have that, “Andy?”

“He said no,” your arms cross over your chest as you look out the window of the car. “It’s not stopping me.”

“Why is he like this?” it upsets you that your father can’t see the Andy that you see. He is perfect. And he will give you a perfect life.

“Because you’re his oldest daughter. His pride and joy, and he just doesn’t want you to be married off to some boy.”

“Except you’re not some boy,” you give him a smile, scooting over on the seat towards him. Your dainty hand rubs up and down his chest as you snuggle in, “You’re all man.”

“You have no idea,” he gets the most devious plan. It’s not as evil as it may sound. Andy plans on marrying you anyways. Currently he doesn’t have your father’s blessing, and this way wouldn’t exactly be a blessing. But at least he couldn’t say no. You are just like every other girl, and would only get the proper talk until you were engaged. You didn’t fully understand how babies are made, or the ways that Andy could love you, and evour you.

They’d tell you how a woman has wifely duties. But sex with you isn’t a duty. Sex with you almost seems like a life force for him. It is proper to wait for marriage, but this marriage doesn’t seem like it’s going to be approved by your father. And he’d hate to see you leave Andy behind because you needed that.

But…if you were to accidentally fall pregnant how could he say no? You would need to have a man to marry you. What man would marry a sullied woman? Leaving him with no choice but to approve the marriage. Demand it.

It’s not evil. It’s just changing up the way he would like things to go. He doesn’t want you to be looked down upon in the community. He wants you. He doesn’t want to wait. He wants his future wife properly. He’d taken way too many cold showers after leaving you. Relieved himself way too much.

His car turns in a different direction. The house was supposed to be a surprise. But he was also supposed to be given your dad’s blessing. It’s empty, and a bit bleak right now. But if he’s going to have your properly, he wants it to be in your future home with him. You would no longer be a lady, and sex didn’t automatically mean pregnancy, but he wasn’t going to stop until you became pregnant.

Andy has always played the long game with you. He knew the moment he saw this sweet little girl rocking in her saddle shoes as you stood there holding out a coloring book and crayons for him, and told him that you have a swing that he was in love. He fell instantly and even told his mom that he was going to marry you. And he will. Even if you have to get pregnant out of wedlock for it to happen.

“Andy, where are we going? We’ve never been here before?” You ask after a while of silence. You are perfectly content rubbing on your boyfriend as he drives. He gets all fidgety and squirrelly when you do. It makes you feel better knowing his heart is racing just like yours always does around him.

“I bought us something.”

“Oh?” You look up at him with doe eyes, and kiss him on his neck. Giggling when he makes that sound. Kissing on his neck always makes him squirm. You love watching him adjust how he’s sitting and even how he pulls you closer to him. Letting his hands roam where they want to roam. You don't mind as long as you are alone.

“It might not be much. But this is just a starter,” he says, slowing down as he turns onto a road. You squeal as you look forward. Your hand lays on his upper thigh, and he clears his throat. Andy is such a funny man when you touch him in certain areas.

“Andy, it’s perfect!” It truly is. The cutest little white house with a white picket fence. A perfect starter home. “Can we go look?”

“That’s why we’re here,” you don’t even wait for him to open the door before you spring to the house. Having to wait a bit too long for him to come to your side and unlock the door before you're running through the empty house.

Home.

Yours and Andy’s home.

The kitchen is bigger than your mom’s, and a few modern appliances. The living room is huge, but maybe that’s because there was no furniture. Running down the hall you see the perfect room for a nursery. Can already envision the crib.

“Honey,” Andy pulls your hand down the hallway, leading you towards the biggest room in the house. It is mostly empty, sans a bed. “This will be ours.”

“Ours?” You sigh, turning towards him, and run both hands up his chest. “And we’ll get to sleep in the bed together,” your mother hadn’t quite taught you anything concerning marriage. And you’d heard your friends gossip a bit about their husbands, but it just made you queasy. You didn’t want to think about another man. You just want him. You want those conversations with Andy or nobody.

“We can do more than sleep,” he says with a sly quirk of his mouth.

“What else does one do in the bed with their husband?”

“Well,” he says softly, pulling you into his body. His meaty hands run up your sides before they’re high enough for his thumbs to caress over your breasts, and you sigh leaning into him. You were in private, and there’s nothing you wouldn’t let Andy do. Or touch.

Your body heats up with ministrations, and you stare up at him with your eye lids at half mast. “It’s something I’ve always wanted to try with you.”

“And what’s that?”

“I want to make love with you,” your tongue flicks out of your mouth, and you pull your bottom lip in. Biting on your perfect pout as you look up at him. “Do you know what that is?”

You shake your head no as Andy’s hands go to your back, and he grips tight to your zipper as he pulls it down. You gulp, allowing him to undo your dress. It feels right. And you love Andy, so making love sounds right. “When two people love each other, they give each other their bodies.”

“And then what,” you release a wanton mewl when he fully unzips your dress. Placing his hands back on your shoulders, he pulls the dress down, and you watch with bated breath as it pulls at your feet. Andy’s hungry eyes roam over your body before he reaches back behind you, undoing your bustier, and you’re the one pulling it off.

He stands there, taking your nearly nude body in. “Then what, Andy?”

“I taste you,” you gulp. “You taste me,” you shudder. “I enter inside of you,” you whimper. “I come inside of you.”

“Inside where?” Andy’s finger taps between your legs, and your knees start to buckle. Leaning more into him for support, and you shyly pull at his jacket, and fumble with the buttons on his shirt. “Have you ever came inside someone?”

“No,” it isn’t a lie. He’s had sex, and only because he wanted to be the best for you. But that part of him…it is only for you. “Can — I touch you?” You nod your head enthusiastically, and he leans forward. Both hands cupping your breasts before he sucks one into his mouth.

“Oh, god,” the other breast he squeezes and pulls until he reaches your swollen bud, and gives it a little pinch. You pant as you stare down at him. Sucking on your nipple before he pulls off with a pop, and moves to the other one. “Andy…I can’t breathe.”

“We’re just getting started,” he practically growls. He grabs your hand, and places it on his crotch, while you moan. Slick heat races to your core, and your mind goes all fuzzy. Andy always has this innate ability to make butterflies race to your belly.

Feeling Andy like this doesn’t even feel criminal. He’s showing you exactly why he adjusts his pants, “This is what you do to me.”

“And this,” you take a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts. You can feel his pulse under your fingers. He’s so hot and heavy under your palms. Yours. This is all yours. “This goes inside me?”

“It does.”

“Show me,” Andy steps away from you before sinking to his knees. He starts to slowly peel away your panties and stockings down your body. Assisting you in kicking off your shoes, and stepping out of your confines while you stand completely bare in front of him.

“Andy,” you coo before he kisses you over your naked mound. “Andy,” you start to melt as he coaxes your legs apart, and he licks through your slit. “Oh dear,” Andy is getting a part of you that no man has. Open and so ready for him. Whatever it means. Is this what people are talking about when they mention the wedding bed?

Wedding be damned. You can’t stop this now. You want to feel him inside of you. “Andy, I want you in there,” he glances up at you with an almost evil smirk. “Will you show me what that means?” He will marry you. He will make an honest woman out of you. Your father drove him to do things this way.

Lifting you up, he lets your legs wrap around his body, while he moves you to grind over his enlarged bulge. Your eyes blow wide open with curious lust and the simpering sounds of your needy voice make his movements so much quicker. He could just about come looking at you like this alone. Laying you down on the bed, he spreads your legs so wide to stare at your weeping cunt. Perfect. And all his.

“Andy,” you whine, wiggling around. You feel so exposed, and want him so bad. You want him all over you. You want him to feel a part of you that no one has.

“Shh,” he whispers as he starts removing his clothes. You gasp as his cock springs free. Scooting back in the bed, suddenly scared of where he says he’s going to have you. “You can take it. You’ll take it all, and if it doesn’t fit, we’ll make it fit.”

Andy clamors onto the bed, using his wide berth to keep your legs parted as he lines himself up with your center. Pushing just the tip of him in you and quickly pulling back out, and you yip. “Honey, you can take it, huh?”

“Y-y-yeah,” you take a deep swallow as he goes deep, but doesn’t pull out. “Oh, golly,” he slowly sinks his girth deeper. Letting your body adjust to the intrusion inch by inch. “Oh…oh!” Panting when he fully sheaths his steel rod all the way inside of you, and into the depths of your soul.

Both of your bodies hum with the throbbing intensity that is the two of you becoming one. It’s overwhelming and lovely all at the same time. All these years have led you here. Spread wide open for him. Taking him. Loving him.

“There’s a good girl. There is my sweet good girl,” it is overwhelming having Andy inside of you. Stretching you out deliciously. You want him always there. It just feels right. How dare your father try and take this from you. You belong with Andy with him inside of you.

“Andy, I love you.”

“I love you.”

“I want a baby with you,” fuck yes. Yes. Just what he was wanting to hear. “I want to marry you, and live here with you, and have you inside me every single night. I want to take care of our sweet babies, and —“ he pulls himself out of you again, causing you to pout, but then he pushes back in with a jolt. “Oh, Lordy be!”

“You like me fucking you?”

“Uh huh,” such terrible language, but right here, right now, it feels wrong not to be saying that. “Fuck me harder. I like that,” he snaps his hips, barreling back into you. Again. Again. And again. And tears spring to your eyes, but he kisses them away. Pistoning into your body with such force you cry out.

The fullness of him. It makes it hard to breathe. Even the sting of the stretch doesn’t hurt all that much.

“Good girl. You sound so pretty crying for me,” you just cling on for dear life as Andy’s movements make the bed slap against the wall. “You were made for me, Sugar. Nobody can ever take this away from us. I won’t stop fucking you until I plant a baby in your belly.”

You’re too far gone to truly understand the implications in that statement. You just nod your sweet little head, opening your legs wider. Andy leans back, pinning both legs to the bed as he watches himself impale you. Your tight little cunt clings to his cock. Even your body didn’t want him to leave you. It was begging for him to stay buried deep inside you.

And he would be. He’ll keep fucking you, and planting his seed until it takes. What is your dad going to say when you’re swelling with Andy’s pride and joy? He wouldn’t want to ruin your good name, therefore the family’s. He’ll be forced to allow you to marry. And he’ll have you exactly how he wants you.

On your back, taking him every night, while every day he gets to worship you. The dream.

“Sugar,” Andy pants, his movements stiffening up. “I’m gonna give us a baby.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Fuck,” he crows, keeping himself lodged deep in your body. “Fuck!” Warmth blooms in your belly, and your mouth goes slack as you stare up at him. “This will be our little secret, okay?”

Until your belly is so round that everyone knows that he’s fucked you good and hard enough to get a baby. Men will stare jealously knowing that Andy has had you with no inhibitions. There will come a day that he will get to tell people that the two of you are trying for a baby. Meaning they’ll know he’s fucking his come inside of you every night.

It will come. But for now, he’s going to keep coming inside of you. Creating a life in secrecy. In hopes that your father will approve this union. He won’t have another choice.

“Beige,” your grandmother huffs as your sister pulls the veil over your head. “You seriously think people won’t notice you’re wearing beige? You spread your legs for the first man that whispered how much he loves you in your ear. You will ruin this family!” your sister looks back and forth between you and your grandmother, but you keep your head held high. Today you become his wife.

“You were supposed to marry the astronaut.”

“Guess he wouldn’t want to marry some whore, huh, Nana?” You let your hand drift down your stomach, rubbing over the barely there bump. “Andy did ask daddy for his permission to marry me. He said no, but all I’ve ever wanted was to be Mrs. Barber.”

“He trapped you,” your mother gasps, holding her hand over her mouth, while the other fans her face. “Sweetheart.”

“Don’t feel sorry for me. I wanted this. I begged for him to give us a baby. And now he’s giving me his last name. We have a home, and he has a job, and will move up at the firm. Let me have this happiness. He kept his promise. So let me keep mine.”

Let your mom continue to pray that nobody sees the weight you’ve put on. Four months, and six weeks, it is becoming harder to hide. There wouldn’t be a honeymoon. There would only be you going home to your husband. Sleeping in the bed right beside him where you belong. No more sneaking around, and leaving before sunlight. Everyone may know that you didn’t wait, and you don’t even care. Because he still kept his promise.

There would be no more lies. Only the truth, and that’s what has always been known. You love Andy Barber.

Andy Barber loves you.

And Andy is yours.

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @donutloverxo @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bambamwolf87 @musingsfromthemitten

@theinheriteddutchess @buckybarnesisdaddy @distractingbeth

[rebelliousstories]

Card

ValenFics

Relationship: Eddie Munson x Reader

Fandom: Stranger Things

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Brief Strong Language, References to Drugs

Word Count: 1,322

Main Masterlist: Here

Summary: Why must candy-grams be a thing? What purpose do they serve? Why do people think it’s okay to deal them out to students who use them to rub it in each other’s faces?

Consider Donating: Here

How in the ever loving hell did Eddie get into this point of his life? Struggling to finish his senior year in the wonderful year of 1984. And now, specifically at this point in time, he was racking his brain as he tried to think of just who was turning his life upside down. It started off the previous Monday on the 6th.

With Valentine’s Day next Tuesday, the school was in full swing. There were decorations strung about, and every student was being sickeningly sweet. It was genuinely starting to piss him off the more he was in this god forsaken school. And, of course, with Valentine’s Day so close, such began the annual, cruel and unusual punishment known as candy- grams.

Eddie put no faith into getting one of these things. For three years he has witnessed everyone around him getting one, but not the freak. It seemed he was the only person that was not worth the effort. But it did not bother him all that much. Valentine’s Day meant that his side- hustle would be doing well in the coming week as those who ridiculed and bullied him during the school day, suddenly needed something from him after hours.

Which is why on Monday, the day before Valentine’s Day, he was utterly baffled by the scenario that had unfolded. Just before the first period bell, Eddie was at his locker to grab his text book for American history with Mr. Doyle, when someone tapped him on the shoulder. Turning, he was face to face with Jake Bellman, another senior and one of those preps that made sure Eddie knew his place whenever he got the chance.

“Yo, Munson. Got something for you.” Jake stated, with a certain attitude that conveyed the silent message that he would rather be anywhere other than here. Reaching into the box that he held in his hands, Bellman grabbed a box of candy hearts with his name on them, and passed the sweets to the freak. Without a word, Jake walked off, greeting others with their candy-grams with much more enthusiasm.

Shifting his focus to his hands, Eddie, in bewilderment, observed the box closely. His name was written on it in a differing handwriting than the note on the back. Wait, there was a note on the back. Anxiety creeped in as he hoped that this was not some stupid senior prank. In delicate, cursive handwriting, he read, “Roses are red, Elves are cute too, I’d like to have a DnD date with you. Happy Valentine’s Day, Eddie.”

There was no signature. Nothing that would indicate who had written and paid for the candy- gram. So, he spent the rest of the day keeping his eyes out. Eddie’s head was on a swivel as he tried to see if someone was staring at him longer than usual. Or with a different look than he was used to. But no luck in his first three classes. Leaving third period English, he went to go put his books away when he saw something sticking out of his locker.

A single rose. Whoever was playing the joke was doing a damn good job of convincing him that they were serious. Pulling the flower carefully from the grates, the boy mindlessly shoved his books away and grabbed his lunch box. The entire walk to the cafeteria was split between looking at his new ice of flora, and again, searching for whoever was the one that had been giving him all the attention today. Sure, it was a welcomed change from his usual schedule of torment and ridicule, but an odd one.

In the lunchroom, Eddie did not even bother trying to follow the conversation at the table. He was too focused on trying to find his secret admirer to pay attention to the other boys. Half the day, he had been tormented by the question for knowledge. But how was he supposed to narrow this down when everyone just wanted to buy drugs off of him off school property, and hate him on it for the status quo?

This was going to be near impossible and- hey wait a second. Eddie caught distant eyes across the lunchroom before they ducked back down to stare at her lunch in front of her. A pretty girl that he had unfortunately never learned the name of, but definitely had a little crush on, was staring at him. But before he could do anything, she was finishing up with her lunch and leaving the room. It was now or never. She had always been nice to him, but they truly had never spoken longer than saying hello, or excuse me.

Leaving behind his measly few snacks, and friends, Eddie rushed after her towards the hallways outside the cafeteria. Skidding his high tops to a halt, he tried to think of something, anything, to grab her attention.

“Hey, elfie!” As soon as he said it, Eddie cringed. Hey, elfie? That was the best his brain could come up with.

Surprisingly, it worked, because she did stop. And she did turn around. Taking a couple steps towards the now stunned boy, her lips trailed up in a smirk. “Elfie?”

“I…uh, well-” Eddie stammered, “I didn’t know you’re name, and uh-”

“It’s fine. I’ve been called worse.” She finally put him out of his misery and offered her name up to him. Eddie could not help but let the name wash over his tongue a time or two before responding.

“Um… you are the one who did the candy- gram for me though, right? And, and the rose?” He asked hesitantly, holding out the flower as if to prove that he had received it.

Looking away, a fierce took over her cheeks. “Well, I just… I thought I would do something nice for you.” It was now her time to stammer.

“Uh, gesture received.” Eddie could not think of anything else to say without risking sounding stupid in front of this girl. And yet, he somehow mustered the courage. “Did you mean what you said? On the candy- gram, that is. About a Dungeons and Dragons date? With me?”

“If that’s alright with you. We can make characters and backstories. Or just geek out over lore. Most people won’t let me play because I’m a girl but I still love the world building aspect.” Her rambles were cut off when she suddenly could smell his cologne closer. It was not a bad smell either; rather one that she could enjoy a lot.

Surging together his last bit of courage before it left his body, Eddie blurted out, “are you free tomorrow night?”

“Yeah,” she chuckled, “Just gotta knock out some homework but yeah.”

“Could I take you out on a date? The diner on the outskirts is where I usually go since they let me stay so long as I’m nursing a milkshake. We could compare DnD books, if you’d like.” Eddie continued, felling the back of his neck get hot.

“I’d like that.” She replied. “Here. Do you have something I can write on?”

Without thinking, he offered her his bare left arm. Another giggle left her as she broke out a pen to write down a string of numbers. “That’s my house phone. Call me tonight and we can go over details, okay Eddie?”

“Yeah.” He said, sounding breathless.

“Okay. Well, bye.” Smiling at him once more, and in a bold move of confidence, she pressed a kiss to his cheek before turning, and leaving deeper into the school.

“Hey,” Munson called once more, causing her to turn. “Where you going?”

“The drama class. I paint backgrounds.”

“Give me three seconds, and I’ll walk you. Hopefully?” He inquired.

“Don’t keep me waiting long.” She confirmed, watching as he rushed into the cafeteria.

This was going to go well. She just had a feeling that this would be her year. Maybe Eddie’s too.

[starlvcied]

₊˚⊹♡ rin itoshi x f!reader " FRAMED RIVALRY " CHAPTER 002

in which your academic rival, aka the captain of the soccer team, sneaks his way into the photography club with you. ꨄ︎ CHAPTER 002

cw: swearing (a lot) , rin definitely needs therapy wc : 1.8k

if someone had told you a week ago that rin itoshi would willingly join the photography club, you wouldve laughed in their face. yet here he is, showing up to every meeting like he belongs, sitting in on discussions, and most annoying– actually being good at it. 

it doesnt make sense. rin is the the type to dismiss anything that doesn't revolve around soccer, the kind of person that scoffs at having to do anything that doesnt serve his ambitions. but every time you try to pry into his real motives, he gives you the same flat responses.

“i told you, i just like photography.” or–

“can you piss off?” or–

“mind your fucking business, lukewarm.”

but noone else seems to question it. the club members welcome him in without hesitation (except for livvy and daria, who you specifically warned to stay the hell away from him), is probably more impressed by the fact that the soccer captain is even acknowledging their existence. it gets on your nerves, especially when people start treating him like he’s some kind of prodigy. well, he sorta is– but thats besides the point.

“he’s a fast learner,” daria comments as you all review recent shots on the clubs computer. “look at this framing– i cant believe he did that.”

you barely glance at the image before skipping them with a scoff. “anyone can take a decent picture with the right settings. he’s just copying the techniques i already explained to him.”

rin, whos leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. he doesnt even react to your dismissiveness. “jealous?” he asks, his voice as indifferent as ever. 

you slowly turn around, facing him with a scowl. “of you? not a chance.”

“well thats not a pretty face.”

it becomes a pattern. rin attends every meeting that doesnt get in the way of his practice or his games, participating just enough to remain involved, and occasionally throws in dry, insulting comments at you and your clubmates, mostly you, made to push your buttons. and unfortunately, it works. you’d expect him to lose interest within days, to get bored and drop the act. but he doesnt.

and thats what bothers you the most.

you dont usually mind morning classes. if anything, you enjoy them– mostly due to most of the students being too tired to be rowdy, so mornings at your school are pretty peaceful. but that was before rin itoshi started making them unbearable.

ever since the debate project forced you to work together, things have only escalated between you two. its like a silent war– every test, every assignment, every question posed by the teacher turns into an unspoken battle for dominance.

and neither of you are willing to lose.

so when your first period teacher walks in, announcing an impromptu quiz, you already know exactly where this is headed. you get a glance at rin through your peripheral and find that he was already looking at you. obsessed freak. 

“i’ll be grading these on the spot,” the teacher says, handing out the papers. “no multiple choice– explanations are required. show your reasoning.”

you glance to your left once more, where rin is already twirling that stupid ballpoint pen between his fingers, the epitome of nonchalance. but you know better. you can feel the competitive energy radiating off of him.

the moment the papers hit your desk, it begins. you dont even bother writing your name, nor the date, nor the period.

the only sound in the room is the scratching of pens against paper. you work quickly but precisely, mapping out each answer with clear, logical steps. you’re writing harder than usual, your lead breaking a few times, and your palm begins to burn. you refuse to give rin the satisfaction of finishing before you.

a flicker of movement catches your eye. rin shifts slightly in his seat, leaning forward as he writes, his stroke sharp and decisive. he’s fast. too fast. it reminds you of how he acts on the field.

you grit your teeth. hes rushing. that has to be it. theres no way hes double checking his work at that pace. (unless he doesnt have to. maybe he is as perfect as he presents himself to be.)

your pencil moves faster.

you finish just as rin sets his pen down.

both of you look up at the same time, locking eyes.

theres a moment of intense silence. then, without a word, you both flip your papers over and slide them toward the edge of your desks, waiting for the teacher to collect them.

the rest of the class finishes at a normal, more human pace– less like a factory machine. but you and rin remain frozen in place, the unspoken competition still lingering between you.

the teacher grades quickly, making occasional sounds of both approval and disapproval. you watch as she pauses at rin’s paper (you knew it was his because you had already memorized his stupid handwriting, and got a glance at the moment she picked it up). her eyebrows lifted slightly before marking something. then she gets to yours, tapping her pen against the desk thoughtfully before moving on.

finally, she returns her focus back to the class. “excellent work from most of you,” she says, “but per usual, our top scorers were neck and neck.” 

you sit up straighter. rin remains still.

the teacher glances between the two of you, lips quirking slightly, as if she finds this amusing. “one of you scored 100%. the other, a 99.”

your breath catches.

you whip your head toward rin at the same time he looks at you. his expression is unreadable, but you could see it in his eyes– hes waiting.

the teacher places the papers down on her desk. “the perfect score goes to…” she paused. you felt as if she was creating suspense on purpose. she finally flips one over, revealing the name scrawled at the top.

and to your surprise, its not yours.

for a second, you just stare at it. the weight of that single point settles uncomfortably in your chest, and embarrassment bubbles in your stomach.

slowly, you turn to look at him. he’s not smirking, not outright gloating, but theres a flicker of triumph in his expression. the way his lips press together, the way his fingers drum lightly on the desk as if to say, i win.

you inhale sharply. one point. you lost by one point.

it shouldnt bother you this much. its just a quiz. its not like this is the first time one of you has beaten the other.

but it does bother you– no, it enrages you.

so when the teacher move’s on, discussing the correct answers, you lean slightly toward rin and mutter, “enjoy your fuckin’ moment. this wont happen again.”

he doesnt look at you, but the corner of his mouth lifts slightly. “thats not very head of the student council of you.”

that stupid fucking smirk made you want to strangle him and leave him to the rats. you pursed your lips before responding, your tone the opposite of polite. “shut up, dickwad.”

he didnt seem to take it to heart. all he gave was a simple eye roll and a breathy laugh, if you could even call it that. “sounds like someones mad they lost.”

and just like that, the war continues.

rin itoshi is an annoyingly fast learner. 

that much becomes obvious after only a few days in the photography class.

youd hoped he would get bored, that the frustration of being a beginner would drive him a way. but rin treats photography the same way he treats soccer or school– like a challenge. and rin doesnt lose.

which means hes actually trying.

and, worse– he’s getting better.

you watch as he crouches low, camera in hand, adjusting his focus with practiced precision. as of right now, the photography club was taking pictures while the student government set up the school to become more valentine's day themed. currently, you had rin practice by taking a photo of a boy hanging up heart-shaped decor on the walls. he clicks the shutter, barely pausing before reviewing the shot.

you dont want to admit it, but the composition is good. the depth of field is balanced, and the framing naturally draws the eye to the subject.

he stands, his frame towering over you as he turned the camera toward you. “better?”

you tilt your head, pretending to scrutinize. “..its fine.”

rin frowns slightly. “thats what you said last time.”

“maybe you’re just ‘fine’ at this.”

his lips press into a thin line. “lukewarm critique.”

you roll your eyes. “you want real critique?” you snatch the camera from his hands and point at the screen. “your subject placement is predictable, your angles are too rigid, and you rely too much on symmetry. it looks… controlled.”

rin raised an eyebrow. “and thats a bad thing?”

“its a safe thing.” you lift your own camera. “photography isnt just about control. Its about instinct, feeling natural. feeling the shot instead of just calculating it.

rin doesnt look convinced. “feeling doesnt win anything.” 

“tell that to every award winning photographer literally ever.” you step past him, snapping a picture without even looking through the viewfinder. then you turn the screen toward him. “see?”

rin stares at it for a moment, then exhales through his nose. “so youre saying i should just take random pictures instead? thats stupid.”

you roll your eyes again. “i’m saying you should stop treating this like a competition.”

he gives you a look that is so blatantly unimpressed that it makes your blood boil. “you think im competing with you?”

you stare at him. is he fucking serious?

rin doesnt react. no denial, no confirmation. he just watches you with that same impassive expression, teal eyes unreadable. then he tilts his head slightly.

“or maybe i just like photography.”

the way he says it– so deliberately, so casually– makes you want to shove your camera down his throat and watch him choke to death.

instead, you step closer, voice low. “say that again with a straight face.”

rin blinks. then, like the shitty little menace he is, he repeats with a deadpanned expression. “maybe i just like photography.”

you swear he’s fucking with you.

the moment is cut short– the bell. the club members begin packing up, and rin, as usual, moves on as if nothing happened. you watch as he slings his camera strap over his shoulder, leaving without another word.

and you– you are left standing there frustrated beyond belief. 

because of the rivalry.

because he’s improving too fast.

and because you're starting to believe he’s damn near perfect, and you hate it.

what does this mean for you?

001<< >>003

i got lazy w this so its kinda bad sorry!! also i dont know jack shit abt photography lol just roll with it.

tags: @mixolya @x3nafix @rinniebinniebay @levihanmyotp @anqelkoz @megumismyhusband @aisqka

[theiaphage]

This is a really well worded post and I generally agree! However, I think I got another angle of this same conclusion based on the idea that Amy's original redemption arc never really concluded only to backslide -- rather, that her expectations about redemption fundamentally change what that redemption arc means in-text

Like you say, it absolutely falls well within the typical narrative-trope parameters of the expected 'redemption arc,' she hits all the core points -- but, like with a lot of tropes related to pain, trauma, healing, forgiveness and so on, the typical narrative portrayal isn't often a realistic one. In that way I think Amy acts as both a good example and, with further context, a deconstruction of the redemption arc, because under further examination a lot of the arc itself isn't necessarily as positive as it first came off. In so many of her attempts, she's trying to do better according to all she knows when surrounded by the worst influences possible. She doesn't have a solid safe role model, and hasn't for her entire life. Someone to tell her that sometimes you just won't be forgiven, that not every fight ends with a hug and back-to-normal at the end.

In that way, Amy's attempts at doing the right thing in Worm, though absolutely noble in conscious intent, still betray a few of her failings and the places she was failed. Like you say, she really does try to get better, she does the things she may know broadly lead to healing or help or forgiveness, but a lot still ends up being more about her than her efforts.

The tattoo here absolutely stands out to me -- even before Ward went and had her all but explicitly say that the tattoo holds a different meaning now, even in Worm it still seemed imperfect, questionable potentially, but with heart behind it. It was a memorialization of pain and a reminder to do better -- but like so many pieces of art about pain or failure, it could inadvertently romanticize the subject just as much as it condemns it. Amy is, in a very real way, actively working this tragedy into a part of a narrative -- one she tries to use for growth, but ultimately fails in.

I'm trying not to be too harsh on Amy here, but vibes-wise I'm reminded somewhat of something like an ex-boyfriend, leaving flowers at the door of someone who dumped him, or cry-singing a song about how they were a bad boyfriend on the car drive home. Sure, the pain is real, the acknowledgement of failure likely is as well, but at some point the gesture becomes more about the boyfriend's pain than the actual relationship, or even the breakup. In this moment Victoria, a victim who literally cannot speak for herself in this instance, is 'memorialized' in a very real sense, turned into a symbol by a person that already as a base nature of their power and life can feel so disconnected from the humanity of others.

So many of these choices by Amy center her -- her attempted growth, her attempted retribution, her attempted change. It's the kind of thing that in real life really can be done for the right reasons, but can also be done for worse ones -- that ex-boyfriend working out thinking of their ex, getting a job thinking of their ex, hanging a picture of their ex above their bed to motivate them to get up in the morning. Amy's actions aren't even this extreme or pointed, but I view it as them sharing a sort of kernel of trying to do better because they really want (or even need) better in turn -- and thus, Amy's arc in Ward is what happens when the textbook redemption arc doesn't work.

When all those acts of memoriam, distance, betterment, health, are done with the kernel of hope in your mind that it means you'll be forgiven, that it all will be fine again and you can go back to how it was.

And that's why I see her redemption arc as never having completed -- she's trying, she's hitting the right steps, but ultimately at the conclusion of this redemption (which I would argue is a long period of time, starting with Vicky's new body and coming back up again for a while) would come when those attempts were tested, when Victoria refuses to forgive her and she's forced to either accept her betterment without Victoria, or let go of it and keep pushing for her -- she begins to choose the later.

In this way it's less of a backslide and more of a recontextualizing moment. She is backsliding in behavior, but it's not that she got foundationally better and then became foundationally worse again, and more so that she tried to get better, put in real effort, but ultimately failed. This version worked for me because it seems to be what Amy acts like right out of the gate; annoyed that Vicky won't accept her, continually trying to do things 'for' her or based on her happiness when Victoria wants nothing to do with any of that.

These give some context to her past actions, allow you to re-examine Worm in a way that both provides answers and adds a new layer in a way many readers (myself included) missed at first simply because yeah, Amy's arc does have all the pieces of a redemption arc, and it takes Ward to get people thinking about whether or not those pieces add up.

I do want to state to conclude that yeah, her portrayal (and especially the initial choice to tell this story surrounding Amy of all people) has its issues, many major, but the portrayal of someone who falls into toxicity and abuse because they thought they were doing everything right and still didn't get what they wanted out of it; A person who still didn't get that one selfish prize they latched onto in a moment of pain that they tried to be a saint to deserve or make up for wanting? Yeah, that's pretty unique and powerful, and despite its flaws it really hits home as an accurate-to-the-point-of-painfulness portrayal.

Okay, fuck it, I've built up enough goodwill with this sideblog - let's risk it all by sharing my opinions on how Amy is handled in Ward.

It's kinda complicated I think.

Okay, now that I've resisted the urge to immediately hit post for the bit: I think the way her interludes are written substantially flattens her character in a way that I find distasteful and unpleasant, but I find the overall shape of her arc and her role in the narrative compelling. The things I dislike have been well-covered by plenty of other people in the fandom, so I'm going to focus on the things I like.

To talk about Amy's role in Ward, I first need to talk about my interpretation of Ward as a whole. To me, Ward is, above all else, about trauma and recovery. Society is traumatized by the end of the world, the shards are traumatized by the death of Scion and their loss of purpose, individuals are traumatized by all the things individuals are traumatized by. As an aside, this reading is a big reason why I'm not too bothered by a lot of the world building choices that other people frequently (and fairly) criticize - I think many of them serve this theme effectively.

One specific facet of that reading that I find particularly compelling is Ward's interest in people who are traumatized not just by the harm done to them, but by the harm they've done. Characters don't just regret what they've done, they don't just want to be better, they are traumatized by it, and their reactions to that trauma are as messy and complicated as any other traumatized people. I don't always agree with the stances the text takes on how to deal with having done harm and been traumatized as a result, but I find the exploration of the topic compelling.

Enter The Altruistic Amy Dallon.

Amy's arc in Worm was, to a degree, a prototype of this kind of storytelling. She is repeatedly and horrifically traumatized, the actions she eventually takes in response to that experience inflict equally horrific trauma on her victim, and she is further traumatized by her own actions almost to the point of ego death. She removes herself from the environment she was in, begins rebuilding her sense of identity and ethics, and reemerges having grown, prepared to do better going forward and to make reparations for her past actions as best she can. Arc done! It's satisfying and cathartic, and we leave content in the knowledge that the part she's on will take her to better places. It's the quintessential appeal of a redemption arc, and it's a strong example of its type.

There's something people like to say a lot when talking about mental health and personal growth in real life, and that is that progress isn't linear. It's an important truth to understand.

It's rarely true in fiction. Very often, in redemption arcs, in personal growth arcs, after a series of false starts and setbacks, the character reaches a critical point where they resolve their conflict and either overcome it or succumb to it. From that point on, their nature or behavior is fundamentally changed - if they've grown they never relapse past a certain point, or do so only fleetingly, or else never improve past a certain point. This makes sense from a storytelling perspective, but it doesn't map to how growth often works in real life.

In Ward, Amy occupies the very rare narrative position of being who completes her arc of growth and redemption, who crosses that critical threshold of lasting, meaningful change... but backslides anyway, to the point of essentially losing all that progress.

It's an outcome that I find very believable for her, honestly. Her newfound worldview and conviction were forged in the very insular environment of the Birdcage - of course they would be impacted by her new environment. She says at the end of Ward that she had been able to excuse all of her worst behavior because she had convinced herself that she could fix anything - and at the end of Worm, I can see how she would come to think that! She's been pardoned and released from Forever Prison, she overcame her old aversion to brains to create Khepri and thereby saved the world, she's formed a positive relationship with the father she never thought she'd meet, she's receiving love and support from parents she never felt good enough for, she's using her powers to help people in a way that doesn't make her want to die, and she even "fixed" Victoria, when failing to do that before was the final nail in the coffin she just finished clawing her way out of! The sheer number of seemingly impossible things she's accomplished, of apparently irreversible failures she's seemingly put right, is mind boggling! It'd be the easiest thing in the world to let that go to your head!

Her social circle is also a perfect environment to enable her worst tendencies - there's no one left in it whose opinion she trusts that's willing to call her on her shit. Marquis doesn't see anything wrong with her behavior, Carol is trying to make up for a decade of neglect and unwarranted criticism, Mark just wants everybody to get along and be happy, and Riley and Rinke are pretty shaky on this whole human decency thing themselves! With a (not unjustified) pride in how far she'd come, a circle of willing enablers, a complete lack of moderating influences, and a bulletproof get-out-of-moral-culpability-free card, and two years to spiral, I find her backsliding to be completely believable. And given that Victoria is the fly in the ointment to all of this, that her continued refusal to have anything to do with Amy gives lie to Amy's belief that she can fix anything, and thereby puts the entire edifice of her self-rationalizations at risk, it also makes perfect sense to me that Amy would become fixated on her, on proving that she really can fix anything.

Of course, being believable isn't the same thing as being compelling. The thing that makes all this so resonant for me is that, at the end of Ward, after being this grasping spectre that haunts Victoria the whole book, after rejecting countless opportunities to demonstrate a hint of self-awareness or the slimmest motivation to change - Amy does. She sits down with a therapist. She rips off the band-aid - both the metaphorical one and the literal one made out of Victoria's skin, jesus christ Amy - looks at what she's done, at how she went awry, and resolves to do better. And we end with her in essentially the same place she was at the end of Worm: prepared to do better going forward and to make reparations as best she can. But the journey she has taken to get there gives the destination entirely new meaning for me. She's already fumbled her chance at redemption! But her journey gives lie to the idea that you only have one chance, or two, or any finite number! Every moment you draw breath is a chance to do better.

To me, Amy Dallon's arc in Ward shows that the most important step you can take is the next one, and no matter how many times you walk up and down that road, it never stops being true. And I find that compelling as hell.

[demigodsanswer]

A little tattoo au smut for your Sunday. Basically, I meant to write the percabeth first date per someone's request, but I ended up just jumping right into their night together. I just really wanted Annabeth to sit on his face idk.

~

Annabeth sipped the last of her wine and found her courage as Percy signed the check. 

“I had a great time tonight,” she told him, racing across the table for his hand. 

“Me too,” he said, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. 

“Should we get out of here?” She suggested, trying to remember how she used to flirt. 

Percy smiled and looked away from her, a bit pink in the cheeks. Annabeth held her ground and waited. 

“I’d invite you to my place,” he started, “but truth be told, I’m staying with my parents at the moment, while I look for my own apartment.” 

Annabeth smiled. “Well, that’s alright,” she promised, “Sophia is with Luke tonight. As long as you don’t judge how dirty my place is --” 

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Percy assured her. 

~

Annabeth poured them each a glass of wine when they got upstairs. They made it though about four sips each before they were on each other. Annabeth couldn’t remember who kissed first, and it really didn’t matter. All she knew now was that Percy’s hand was under her shirt as her hands unbuttoned his. 

“I should tell you, I haven't had sex since Sophia was conceived,” Annabeth said. 

“Don’t worry, they haven’t changed it much,” Percy promised. Annabeth laughed and kissed him again. “Honestly, I haven’t been with anyone in two years, between the research and job market …” 

That was actually quite comforting. 

“The bedroom is that way,” Annabeth said, pointing to the small hallway. 

Percy pulled her off the couch and started to lead her there. Annabeth would have to thank Thalia for her forward thinking with the condoms that morning. Turns out, they were going to see some use. 

~

For going two years without sex, Percy certainly didn’t seem out of practice. His fingers, tongue, and cock knew all kinds of ways to please her. It was a miracle really. She’d always enjoyed sex for the intimacy of it, the comfort of another person there, the feeling of them reaching places in her so few ever had. But with Percy … Well, it turned out sex could also feel really, really good too. 

The sheets under them were damp from her pair of messy orgasms, one as he fingered her during foreplay, and one while he was inside her.

Inside her. He’d felt so nice, hot and hard, moving at such a perfect pace for her. She’d started on top, riding him until she came, and then he’d flipped them over. He’d started at a pace she’d describe as “making love” before really taking her hard, whispering all kinds of filthy things, and showering her with compliments. He’d cum inside her (well, in the condom, really), and the pulse of it was comforting and familiar. 

Afterwards, they just laid there, breathing and sweaty, ignoring the dampness on the sheets and the smell of sex in the air. Annabeth rested in the crook between his arm and his side, her head on his shoulder as traced some of her tattoos with his finger. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he told her. 

“You’re pretty handsome yourself,” she said back.

“I’m serious. That first moment I saw you last week, I mean, I was done for,” he told her. It didn’t sound like a line. Anyway, what would be the point of a line now anyway? He already had her in bed. 

“Oh really?” She asked, nudging him on. 

“I knew I had to ask you out from the first second I saw you,” Percy said. “At the very least, I needed to find all your tattoos.” 

She leaned back a little bit. “Feel free to have a look around,” she said, laying on her back, her body outstretched so he could look her over. 

Percy kissed his way slowly down her arm, then across her chest, stopping periodically to ask if there was a story behind a specific tattoo. Sometimes there was: a favorite moment from a book, a symbol she held dear. Sometimes, she just liked the idea. 

She had a few tattoos on her hips that had been stretched out and cut into during pregnancy. Percy ran a delicate finger over the scar tissue that ran across her bikini line. 

“C-Section?” He asked her, his green eyes curious and sympathetic. 

Annabeth nodded. “She didn’t want to come out,” she told him. “I was in labor for … oh, fifty-five hours I think? In the hospital for forty-something.” 

“Jesus,” he sighed, “you’re a hero.” 

Annabeth laughed and ran her fingers through his already messed-up hair. Percy seemed to lean into her touch, and she was confident that if humans could purr, he would have. 

“I sat at home with Luke watching Lord of the Rings extended editions, just waiting for the contractions to get closer together. By the time Return of the King was over, it was probably still too early to go to the hospital, but I didn’t want to watch the Hobbit movies, so I demanded we leave,” Annabeth said with a laugh. “Then it was forty hours of Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives.” 

“I mean, a classic,” Percy agreed. 

“Grade A TV, for sure. Anyway, she was supposed to go this way,” she held out her hands straight, resting them in between her thighs to mimic the birth canal, “but she went like this,” she turned her hands slightly to the right. “Her little head was just bumping up against my uterus and they couldn’t get her to move. She was trying to come out neck first. If it was even a hundred years ago, we both probably would have died. After a while, she was in distress, and within minutes I was being cut open.” 

Percy kissed the top of her hand, before crawling back up to kiss her face. 

“I’m sorry. I’m glad she made it here okay,” he said. 

Annabeth smiled. “Yeah, me too.” 

They kissed again, lazy and tender. He stayed on top of her, but his weight off of her, so all she felt of him was what warmth radiated off his body. She let her hands explore him a bit more. 

She had discovered another tattoo on his side. She’d panicked at the sight of a woman’s name, but she’d simply laughed and explained: “My mother.” 

“Oh,” she breathed out, relieved. His single mom. Who he was living with. And then she wondered if she was simply fulfilling some naughty role-play for him. Don’t be an asshole, she chided herself. 

Now her hands roamed past the tattoo to the fat of his waist and hips, and then to his ass. She’d caught him flexing plenty, and knew some of it was taut muscle when he felt like showing it off. But she preferred him squishy. 

“Can you roll over?” He asked between kisses. 

She pulled back as much as she could with her head still on the pillow. 

“Oh?” She asked, eyes wide, smile intrigued. 

He laughed a little. “Sorry, I just meant. I want to see your other tattoos. I assume you’ve got more on the other side?” 

“Oh, right,” she said with a laugh, “sure.” 

She rolled over and let him inspect her. There was a rose on her shoulder. That had been one of her first tattoos, when she was more into color. It was pink with a long stem. She’d only been nineteen when she got it. People said it looked like the rose from Beauty and the Beast, and they were right, but that hadn’t been intentional at the time. 

When she was confident enough in Frank’s work as he graduated from Thalia’s apprentice, she lent him her mostly-blank back to do a traditional serpent tattoo. It was actually cool as hell. But it didn’t have any real meaning, besides Frank getting to actually do it. It had healed pretty well too, although he had since touched it up for her twice. 

The only other thing of note was the smiley face on her right ass cheek. Percy’s attention caught that one right away. He poked it. 

“You’ve got a happy butt,” he said. She could hear the smile in his voice. 

“That was my first tattoo,” she lamented. 

“Why a smiley butt?” He asked. 

“I lost a bet,” she told him, before burying her face in her pillow. “I was so sure I wasn’t going to lose.” 

“Dare I ask what it was over?” He asked. 

“That I could lose my anal virginity by the end of Freshman year,” she said, embarrassed more than she maybe ever had been in her life.

There was a brief pause, before: “Wait, not a single man at Harvard wanted to do you in the ass?” He sounded shocked, angry, and outraged for her. 

“Right?!” She said, rolling over a bit. She’d tried to lie to her roommate about it, claiming that it had happened, but the holes (ha) in her story started to emerge too quickly. Eventually, she had to confess. “I think I intimidated all of them,” Annabeth said. 

“Probably,” Percy agreed. “Thankfully, I’m not intimidated,” he said, kissing her smiley face. 

Annabeth hummed, curious. “Oh?” She asked, innocent. “I don’t usually let men do me in the ass on the first date,” she told him. 

He kissed her other cheek. “No, but it would have saved you about fifty-five hours of labor if you did,” he teased. 

Annabeth gasped with faux-indignation, rolling over and pushing him onto his back to straddle him. They were close to the other edge now. She’d almost rolled them off completely. 

Percy was just laughing though as she held him to the mattress, her hands pinning his shoulders. 

“You’re impertinent,” she said. 

He just kept smiling. “Oh, I sure am,” he promised.   

~

She didn’t let him fuck her in the ass, at least not yet. She hadn’t done that in ten years, and she wanted to actually impress him tonight. Because if Percy Jackson never called her again, she’d have Thalia hunt her cousin down for her. Annabeth was absolutely determined to have a second, third, and fourth date with him at least. 

Percy wasn’t ready for another round. He looked a bit sheepish when she touched his still-soft cock, as if it was abnormal for him to not be hard again ten minutes after orgasm. Annabeth just kissed him gently, as if to assure him it was okay. 

Percy’s hands gripped her thighs and tried to coax her up towards his face. 

“Are you sure?” Annabeth asked, hovering over him. 

“So sure,” Percy said, trying to pull her down. She still hovered a bit, close enough that he could lick her clit. But after a few teasing flicks of his tongue, Percy pulled on her a bit harder. “Sit down,” he said, his tone commanding and confident. It thrilled her from her chest down into her lower belly and compelled her to listen. She sat down then, careful not to put all of her weight on his neck. Birth had left her with a bit of a Pixar-mom body, not the slender, narrow hips and thighs she’d been used to in her early twenties. But Percy didn’t seem to mind. He seemed to worship her thighs and the cunt between them. 

Annabeth hadn’t sat on someone's face in years. Truth be told, she hadn’t had sex with someone since Luke. She’d had a few dates, but the men she’d gone out with hadn’t interested her, and the one woman had been asexual. (Annabeth had introduced her to Thalia, and they went out for three years, so it worked out for someone). Luke hadn’t been into eating her out. He never seemed particularly that sexually interested in her at all. Even now, his rare kiss was more of a desperate search for love and family than sexual gratification. It was almost funny that the two of them had conceived. 

But Percy … 

“Oh, god,” Annabeth moaned, pressing her hand against the wall to steady herself. Percy knew what he was doing. He’d discovered what she liked during the foreplay -- a gentle pattern of circles until the pressure built, then a little suck, and then a little more. 

Percy fingers gripped the fat of her ass tight as she rode his tongue. The pressure was building low in her pelvis. She’d already cum twice tonight. A third time sounded lovely. So nice. So needed. Percy sucked on her clit a little more, and Annabeth rolled her hips against him. 

“More,” she pleaded. Percy curiously sucked on her clit again. “Yeah, yeah,” she confirmed. Percy did what he was told, and Annabeth closed her eyes to focus purely on the feeling. “Oh,” she yelped, closer, closer -- 

Annabeth gripped Percy’s hair as her thighs clenched around his head as she came. She didn’t expect to squirt again; she usually needed something inside her, not just on her clit, but oh, his tongue had been so perfect on her, her body didn’t give her any choice or any warning. Maybe it did, and she was simply too satisfied to notice. Her orgasm soaked her thighs, the pillow under her, and Percy.  

Oh fuck -- 

“Jesus,” she said, climbing off of him quickly, “I’ve waterboarded you.” Percy was just laughing as he wiped at his face. Annabeth’s own face felt scalding hot; she was sure she’d gone red from her forehead to her chest. “I’ll get you a --” 

Percy just grabbed her hand and tugged her down towards him. He pulled her into a kiss, deep, filthy, his tongue slipping into her mouth still tasting like her. Annabeth braced herself on the ruined pillow as he let her taste herself on him. 

“How are people not lining up around the block to date you?” Percy asked her, before pulling her in again, this time just pecking her lips. “You’re fucking magnificent.” 

Annabeth just moaned a little, not exactly sure what to say. So, she chose to just watch Percy move his hand from her face to his cock, hard again, pink tip straining up towards the ceiling. He stroked himself slowly. 

Annabeth pressed kisses into his neck, before sucking gently on a sensitive spot she’d found. 

“Do you want me to do something about that?” She asked, nodding back towards his cock. 

Percy nodded. “If you’re up for a little more …” 

Annabeth tied her hair back. “I am,” she promised. 

(When he warned her he was about to cum, she pulled back and let him finish on her face. It was only fair).

[lostinlovingrevery]

Logan howlett being gross please 🙏🙏

I so badly wanted to answer this all day but I was busy so thanks for your patience!! I may end up writing an actual drabble of him being nasty BUT since it's 10 and I need to be up by 5 am tomorrow I'm gonna give some headcanons out to keep you freaks (lovingly)(im a freak too otherwise i wouldn't be writing this) satisfied. Love you guys <3

if there's anything specific you want me to talk about, feel free to send an ask!

(logan judging me for putting his nastiness out there)

NSFW stuff under the cut. Beware. some of it's gross. :)

Lets start with what I said in that one post

Yes, Logan would fuck himself in every part of you if you let him

personally not big on anal myself but if you guys are down for that, he would definitely like to try it.

I think it's less of getting himself off or being attracted to it, like your elbow or knees

its more of being able to claim you more ways than one, his animalistic instinct REALLY kicks in on this. Scents probably play a part on this

IF you let him do the things he wants, you're gonna get treated SO GOOD afterwards, believe me. Satisfying his urges in the weird ways he gets em? You're an actual fucking angel to him

I've mentioned foot jobs before. I think honestly the foot job is probably what started this whole thing. It's a body part he never considered getting off from. It's until you guys were in your bedroom, hes walking around naked fresh from the shower and you get playful, reaching your feet out and messing with his cock. He was surprised how hard it made him and then when he cums he's like... "Now what else can I get off on?"

I almost mentioned scents. Logans so big on scents yall we established this. You smelling like him, him smelling like you.

When you're a little more settled in your relationship, he may start making comments on how good you smell after workouts, sex, etc. Its the pheromones man

You don't think much until you catch him straight up inhaling your workout clothes one day

He's a bit flustered over it

claims he didn't know what he was doing (he did) and that he was just getting ready to do laundry (he was not) (he went straight to your laundry with the goal of smelling that shit)

PANTY SNIFFER

Loves your panties and bras the most. Definitely will keep your used panties here and there. he does it discreetly, confidently. He's not so ashamed for you to find him sniffing your panties.

Nasty making out. big fan of this

he wants you both practically drooling into each other. can and will spit in your mouth and wants you to do the same

will make out with you with his cum in your mouth. He doesn't like his cum it's just the fact of it's you mixed with him.

He'll love it if you have each others essence and make out like that too.

It's not every time but sometimes he'll just get these urges to make you both messy as hell. spit and cum, hickeys, scratches etc etc

I've also said this before but period sex period sex period sex

He does not fucking care

Makes him a lil wild actually. Might scare you a bit.

If you initially don't want to do it, he'll leave it alone and eventually get needy enough he'll find excuses and then he founds out sex can help relieve periods and he's like

"I'm just tryna make you feel better baby"

When you finally give in his ecstatic

he will def be careful though. He truly doesn't want to hurt you. He's just a needy lil thing for you

Eating. you. out on your period.

I know, it's gross. But so is he.

The first happens on accident. He tastes it while eating you out and immediately recognizes it. he doesn't stop and doesn't tell you

You realize it when he finishes and looks up and his face is covered in blood

quite frankly you're horrified

he didn't care. just goes and washes himself up and you as well.

You're gonna need to change the sheets though. Logans a messy eater

He will eat and drink food from your mouth

you're telling him "oh Lo! Try this pie its SO good-" as you put the fork in your mouth and you're about to give him a piece and feed it to him and he insteads grabs you by the back of your neck and sticks his tongue in your mouth and tastes it that way

It shocks you (and turns you on)

"Yeah baby, it is good." he chuckles as he smacks his lips and walks away leaving you dumbfounded and a bit horny

(you're just like)

will get so nasty about fucking you too like the dirty talking

"Your pussy so fucking tight and wet. Sucking me in and everything."

"You fucking love how I taste don't you? All that cum and sweat. dirty girl."

"my cum tastes good in you baby"

"cmon, taste how good you are darling"

Ive mentioned about him going into a trance after he cums on you

he's cummed inside you and now staring at it leaks out of you

he's pushing it back in and trying to keep it all in you

doesn't even hear you whining over it

he starts spreading it all over you. it just looks so good painted on your pretty pussy

like i said this man adores you and that means ALL of you

will drool during sex

you're just going at it and you guys hit a point where your mindless and fucking

you feel so good and he can't even think straight. acting purely on instinct and you feel his drool on your back. You look back and his mouth is hanging open and his eyes shut and he's thrusting into you over and over, completely contorted in pleasure

lets talk a little about some other stuff

logan keeps up his hygiene of course. brushes teeth. washes his ass. he may consider himself an animal but he's not gonna let himself go. he IS from the 1800s yknow

but he runs like a heater and can and will sweat

esp with all those fucking layers

sweaty dick and balls. nuff said. hope you enjoy that

his natural musk is strong as hell. honestly though to you it'll smell really really good

leaks a lot of precum when he's horny.

his hairs insane though. So much hair. Its' gonna get in your mouth

actually even if hes groomed it's still gonna get in your mouth. he has a lot of hair

Enjoy nasty logan! <3

[setmeatopthepyre]

WIP wednesday tagged by the amazing @rcmclachlan and @agentpeggycartering <3 thank you!

here is some more from the fic formerly known as phosphorescence, now renamed pothos | pathos or pothos fic for short. follows [this]

-

Eddie worries about Buck.

And, if he lets himself think about it, he feels a little guilty for only worrying about Buck now, and not before.

Sure, he'd felt bad for the guy when Tommy dumped him but, well, Buck had been dumped before. He always ended up fine.

Maybe Eddie should have caught on earlier to the ways things were different this time around. Part of that was because Tommy was his friend, and that made things a little awkward, but he'd figured out soon enough that if he just... avoided talking with Tommy about Buck and with Buck about Tommy, it was... fine. He was just a little more vague about it when he had plans with either of them. Easy.

It wasn't exactly like he didn't have anything else on his mind, what with Christopher speaking to him in actual multi-word sentences these days and the whole El Paso house hunt.

Still, he should have probably caught on the fact that it was weird, how easy it was to avoid the subject of Tommy around Buck. At least, in depth.

Sure, Buck talked a lot about how he wanted to reach out, how he'd seen Tommy bubble him again, and the baking... well, the baking spoke for itself. Still, it had taken Buck a full week to share any sort of details as to why he and Tommy had broken up, how it had happened. Even then, Buck had been pretty closed off about it.

And then Buck just... kept baking. And, okay, sue Eddie, it hadn't pinged anything at first because Buck has a tendency to get a little intense about things in general. Until now, those things usually only lasted for a short period of time before Buck wore himself out and things went right back to normal. Or he would go on to the next thing, which, for Buck, was normal.

But the baking went on, so Eddie had figured, hey, Buck had a new hobby. It was a way to cope that wasn't unhealthy for anyone except the people he kept trying to pawn his pastries off to. He was keeping local businesses running with his shopping habits. Buck was keeping himself busy, processing his emotions in a way that didn't involve suing the department or having to be bailed out of jail. You know, all good things. So surely it was fine.

But now... the Tommy thing.

Eddie had kept in contact with Tommy. They'd kept up their weekly hangouts and it hadn't been awkward, because they didn't talk about it. Tommy had looked a little more rough around the edges and he was a little quieter than he had been, but Eddie could tell he was dealing with it in his own way. Their sparring got an extra edge of intensity to it and Eddie enjoyed the extra challenge. Figured if Tommy wanted to talk, he'd talk. But he didn't, so they didn't. Easy as that.

Eddie thought it was, well, fine.

But now Buck is very clearly not fine, and Eddie just watches and sips his coffee while Buck gestures emphatically as he says something to Maddie.

“Have you talked to him?”

Chimney appears by his side and Eddie very nearly inhales his next sip. “Holy-- Chim, stop sneaking up on people like that.”

“Well, have you?”

Eddie dabs at his shirt, trying to figure if he's going to need to change or if the dark blue fabric masks the coffee stain well enough. Glances over to find Chimney still standing next to him, also watching Maddie and Buck.

“You talking about Buck, or Tommy?” Eddie finally asks.

“Either, or.”

“Talked to Tommy day before yesterday. He seemed fine.”

“What about Buck?” Chim says, turning towards Eddie. “Has he... talked to you?”

Somehow Eddie suspects he doesn't mean just in general. “About...?”

“His... theory.”

Eddie frowns. “No, he hasn't mentioned a theory. What kind of theory?”

Chimney ignores his question. “Nothing about Tommy seeming... off?”

“No, I...” Eddie hesitates, thinks back. “Well, he has been asking a lot more questions. But like, trying to be subtle about it, you know?”

Chimney hums.

Eddie casts him a sidelong glance. “Why? What'd he say to you?”

“I probably shouldn't say,” Chimney says. He's fidgeting. Eddie waits him out.

All it takes is a single raised eyebrow on his part and one glance up from Chimney, and Chim cracks. “Fine, but this stays between us, alright?” He glances around them. “He thinks Tommy isn't Tommy.”

Eddie lets the words sink in. Waits for them to make sense. They don't. “What the hell does that mean?”

“See? That's what I asked him, but he couldn't explain it. Just said he wasn't acting like himself.”

Eddie considers this. “I mean, he has seemed a little different, recently.”

“Different how?”

Eddie thinks its a good thing Buck isn't here to hear it, honestly felt guilty about even noticing it, before. “Honestly? Tommy seems... better.”

“Better how?”

Eddie shrugs again. “Calmer? Like he's actually getting some sleep these days.”

“Shit,” Chimney huffs.

“Yeah.”

“Don't tell Buck that.”

“Wasn't planning to.”

They finish their coffee in silence.

-

big big shout out to the one and only @hubcaphalo for the input re: eddie pov

no pressure wip wednesday tags for @trombonechurchill @geddyqueer @sugarpenchant @ambernotember @leashybebes @beanarie @bidisasterevankinard @iphyslitterator

tag list for those who requested tags for this fic under the cut ↓

@fiyaerrigan @bisexualbrainrots @leashybebes @louuieferrignojr @rubydaiquiri @teabroomsandbooks @crimsonwildcat-blog @sweaters-and-silly @nochance-noway @manifestingchaoticvibes @hyperfocusthusly @frogsinflannel @beanarie @rcmclachlan @sad-girl-hours23 @ambernotember @apartmentsmoke

let me know if you wanna be added or removed!

[deconstructthesoup]

Okay, at this point, I genuinely don't care if I've made a post like this before, because I have new ideas and working on Put Your Records On again has gotten me in the fucking mood.

*ahem*

What Kind of D&D Players the Dead Boy Detectives Characters Would Be (this is totally subjective)*

Edwin: Pro bono rules lawyer, full-stop. He's the type of player who has memorized what every single spell can do, knows the best combos to make an incredibly effective build, and is one of those maniacs who's read the 2014 DMG cover-to-cover more than once. He's also got surprisingly good backstories and motivations for his characters, though it takes him a couple sessions to really get into the roleplay of the thing. (Also, you cannot convince him to play a martial class. It's spells or nothing.)

Charles: Gets insanely invested in his characters. He comes up with their name, personality, species, voice, and backstory wayyyyyyy before anything mechanics-related comes into play, and every single decision about mechanics is a "would my character pick this" question, not a "is this going to make my build broken" question. His decisions are always deeply in-character, in the way that makes the DM incredibly happy for story reasons, and he's absolutely the type to make character playlists and moodboards. It's a fifty-day mourning period on the very rare occasions his character dies.

Crystal: Also gets invested in her characters, but she goes for vibes first. You won't catch her playing a human fighter (no shade to human fighters)---if a species isn't from Monsters of the Multiverse or in the "uncommon" section of the core species part of the Player's Handbook, it's not for her, and she'll always pick a class with lots of big, flashy moves and magic to throw around. Most of the time, she even winds up multiclassing, though it's never for optimization and always for flavor... buuuuut Crystal still manages to do pretty cool things with those multiclasses. She also goes hard with making character cosplays. Her social media's now full of pictures of her dressed up as her characters.

Niko: The DM's ultimate hype-person. She's always asking questions about the world, gets super into the plot, and tries her hardest to get as immersed as possible into the story that's unfolding. Basically, she's my dream player who's always making suggestions that perfectly add to the lore---like, for instance, "what if Fantasy Adventure College required you to defend your thesis by actually fighting your professors?" (This is something that one of my IRL players asked last session, and I swear to god, I reached new levels of platonic adoration as soon as those words left his mouth.) I think Niko would make characters who are mostly support, not really wanting to take up the spotlight... but when her characters do get a moment to shine, oh boy do they shine.

Jenny: Starts out as a hack-and-slasher who's only playing to make everyone else happy, and then winds up having genuine fun with it. I'm pretty sure that Jenny would never be anything more than a casual player, probably the person who just shows up every now and then to play a plot-relevant character that the DM had lined up, but she likes rolling dice every now and then.

Monty: Dice. Goblin. Yes, he plays incredibly well-crafted and heartfelt characters who deliver Shakespearean monologues and have backstories that make you cry, but the most important thing is that Monty initially got into D&D for one thing and one thing only---to collect shiny dice. Glitter, inclusions, metal---you name it, he has it, and his collection is something to behold. (He's a crow, of course he loves dice.)

The Cat King: The chaos player. His characters are pretty decent, he commits to the arcs, and he's not terribly disruptive, but make no mistake---he will try to resolve a sticky situation by suggesting doing something absolutely insane, he will roll a nat 20, and the DM will have to pick up the pieces. It's pure "I-disguse-myself-as-him," "I-don't-think-you-heard-me-I-said-blimey," "I'm-gonna-conjure-up-an-image-of-a-sexy-rat" energy, and it's an absolute delight and nightmare all at once. (All of his characters are charisma casters. Go figure.)

*The Night Nurse and Esther have zero interest in D&D, Night Nurse because she has no time for childish activities and Esther because she doesn't see the point in playing make-believe slaughter your enemies when you can do that in real life

[meangreennunseen]

The more I roll idea of Fulgrim's obsession to have a child, but lacking fertility in his swimmers to make one, the more I want to believe he would order Bile to give him feminine reproductive organs...

Sure surgeries go well and all, but the funniest part is that Fulgrim just starts to randomly menstruate soon after...

[al-luviec]

still haven't moved on from zane in this episode (aka I hit tag limit again and am unhappy about it)

[seilon]

I wish I could tell every young person with a uterus (especially with bad cramps and/or dysphoria and/or depression, etc) that there is a decent chance they just straight up don’t need to live with that. don’t let the stigma surrounding contraceptives and the expectation that you should just ride it out and suffer win. for the love of god if there’s a chance you can lighten or even stop your period and it’s symptoms all-together, unless there’s a legit health concern, your doctor should at least make you aware of that option. I want every young person to know that “birth control” is not just for birth control and it has the potential to make your life infinitely easier to live. do not give in to anti-pill propaganda im serious

[phagodyke]

the masculine urge to take a saucepan off thr draining board and bash myself repeatedly over the head with it until I pass out and no longer have to experience feeling Bad 😍

[unnonexistence]

an important writing question to ask yourself is "how much time and effort do i want to put into figuring out what this character's legal documents would look like"

[seaofreverie]

Anyway.... Back to what I was pondering earlier today... It's been 4 months but I'm still as deeply obsessed with Exotic Creatures of the Deep as at the very start

[gingersnapwolves]

So today I want to talk about puberty blockers for transgender kids, because despite being cisgender, this is a subject I’m actually well-versed in. Specifically, I want to talk about how far backwards things have gone.

This story starts almost 20 years ago, and it’s kind of long, but I think it’s important to give you the full history. At the time, I was working as an administrative assistant for a pediatric endocrinologist in a red state. Not a deep deep red state like Alabama, we had a little bit of a purple trend, but still very much red. (I don’t want to say the state at the risk of doxxing myself.) And I took a phone call from a woman who said, “My son is transgender. Does your doctor do hormone therapy?”

I said, “Good question! Let me find out.”

I went into the back and found the doctor playing Solitaire on his computer and said, “Do you do hormone therapy for transgender kids?” It had literally never come up before. He had opened his practice there in the early 2000s. This was roughly 2006, and the first time someone asked. Without looking up from his game of Solitaire, the doctor said, “I’ve never done it before, but I know how it works, so sure.”

I got back on the phone and told the mom, who was overjoyed, and scheduled an appointment for her son. He was the first transgender child we treated with puberty blockers. But not, by far, the first child we treated with puberty blockers, period. Because puberty blockers are used very commonly for children with precocious puberty (early-onset puberty). I would say about twenty percent of the kids our doctor treated were for precocious puberty and were on puberty blockers. They have been well studied and are widely used, safe, and effective.

Well. It turned out, the doctor I worked for was the only doctor in the state who was willing to do this. And word spread pretty fast in the tight-knit community of ‘parents of transgender children in a red state’. We started seeing more kids. A better drug came out. We saw some kids who were at the age where they were past puberty, and prescribed them estrogen or testosterone. Our doctor became, I’m fairly sure, a small folk hero to this community. 

Insurance coverage was a struggle. I remember copying articles and pages out of the Endocrine Society Manual to submit with prior authorization requests for the medications. Insurance coverage was a struggle for a lot of what we did, though. Growth hormone for kids with severe idiopathic short stature. Insulin pumps, which weren’t as common at the time, and then continuous glucose monitoring, when that came out. Insurance struggles were just part and parcel of the job.

I remember vividly when CVS Caremark, a pharmaceutical management company, changed their criteria and included gender dysphoria as a covered diagnosis for puberty blockers. I thought they had put the option on the questionnaire to trigger an automatic denial. But no - it triggered an approval. Medicaid started to cover it. I got so good at getting approvals with my by then tidy packet of articles and documentation that I actually had people in other states calling me to see what I was submitting (the pharmaceutical rep gave them my number because they wanted more people on their drug, which, shady, but sure. He did ask me if it was okay first).

And here’s the key point of this story:

At no point, during any of this, did it ever even occur to any of us that we might have to worry about whether or not what we were doing was legal.

It just never even came up. It was the medically recommended treatment so we did it. And seeing what’s happening in the UK and certain states in America is both terrifying and genuinely shocking to me, as someone who did this for almost fifteen years, without ever even wondering about the legality of it.

The doctor retired some years ago, at which point there were two other doctors in the state who were willing to prescribe the medications for transgender kids. I truly think that he would still be working if nobody else had been willing to take those kids on as patients. He was, by the way, a white cisgender heterosexual Boomer. I remember when he was introduced to the concept of ‘genderfluid’ because one of our patients on HRT wanted to go off. He said ‘that’s so interesting!’ and immediately went to Google to learn more about it. 

I watched these kids transform. I saw them come into the office the first time, sometimes anxious and uncertain, sometimes sullen and angry. I saw them come in the subsequent times, once they were on hormone therapy, how they gradually became happy and confident in themselves. I saw the smiles on their faces when I gave them a gender marker letter for the DMV. I heard them cheer when I called to tell them I’d gotten HRT approved by insurance and we were calling in a prescription. It was honestly amazing and I will always consider the work I did in that red state with those kids to be something I am incredibly proud of. I was honored to be a part of it.

When I see all this transgender backlash, it’s horrifying, because it was well on the way to become standard and accepted treatment. Insurances started to cover it. Other doctors were learning to prescribe it. And now … it’s fucking illegal? Like what the actual fuck. We have gone so far backwards that it makes me want to cry. I don’t know how to stop this slide. But I wrote this so people would understand exactly how steep the slide is.