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i-write-newsies · 3 years

Text

A/N:

(Y/N) - Your Name

(L/N) - Last Name

(N/N) - Nickname

(H/C) - Hair Color

(D/N) - DEEZ NUTS!! /j Deadname

(E/C) - Eye Color

(H/L) - Hair Length

(Y/A) - Your Age

Ships Included:

- Jack x Davey

- Spot x Race

- Finch x Smalls (Platonic)

- Albert x Elmer

-Katherine x Sarah

- Spot x Reader (Brotherly Platonic)

- Race x Reader (Brotherly Platonic)

Summary:

You have always dreamed of living in the world of your favorite characters, to escape from whatever rotten life you have and make friends with the people you love. One day, fate decides to give you a chance. But when you're not prepared to be rushed into that universe, it becomes a roller coaster of balancing good and bad emotions and events.

Good luck, Reader!

!!TW!!

~ SELF HARM

~ TRANSPHOBIA

~ MAJOR INJURY

~ ABUSE

~ ARGUING

(Y/N) POV:

I'm (Y/N) (L/N). I'm (Y/A) with (E/C) eyes and (H/L) (H/C) hair. At least it used to be (H/L). I cut it all off today. I can tell my mom just found out because of the loud cursing and stomping. "GODDAMMIT, (D/N)!!" she yells. What scares me the most about this situation is the fact that I'm kinda used to this. I hear her coming up the stairs to my room and rush to the door and lock it. As expected, the door handle starts rattling violently, "(D/N) YOU LET ME IN RIGHT NOW, YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE SH!T!" She starts banging on the door, stressing the lock.

I sigh. Today was one of the worse days. I slip on my noise-canceling headphones and press play on my musicals playlist, consisting of:

- Waving Through A Window

- On My Own

- A Little Fall Of Rain

- Angel of Music

and of course...

The entire Newsies soundtrack.

By the time I get to 'Seize the Day', it's twilight outside. I lift one of my headphones to check if my mom is gone. I hear nothing. I look out the window and don't see her car. Perfect.

Unplugging my headphones and letting the music play, I walk over to my dresser, open it up, and reach deep in the back. Aha!

I pull out some bandages (A/N: DO NOT ACTUALLY BIND LIKE THIS OK BYE). I take off my shirt and try not to look in my mirror, fearing what sort of feminine body I may see. I start wrapping my chest to the point that it gets a little hard to breathe. This kinda hurts, but my dysphoria is stronger than my need for comfort and, let's be honest, safety.

Slipping my shirt back on, I look into the mirror and smile, satisfied with my flat chest and somewhat choppy short, (H/C) hair. I jump onto my bed and plug my headphones back into my phone which is now playing Santa Fe. Santa Fe honestly makes me think. I'm only, what, (Y/A)? And I still go through all this BS. I need out. Somewhere my mom can't tell me I'm female. Somewhere like...Newsies. I mean, Race is canonically trans, right? Not to mention all of them are definitely fruity. They'd accept me. The fresh, bandaged cuts on my arms are the only things keeping me in reality right now

As the song ends, I realize that I've been crying. God, why am I stuck in this wretched place? The question as well as thoughts of Newsies reverberates in my skull, a sort of white noise until I fall into a much-needed sleep.

"Aye, kid! Watcha doin sleepin on the street?"

"Especially in a place this..."

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Jack POV:

I yawn, rubbing sleep from my eyes as the circulation bell drones on an' on. I let my eyes adjust to the view of the sunrise from my penthouse in the sky.

As I try to get up to get ready, a pair of arms drag me back down. "Jackieeee" a half-awake Davey groans, "come back down, it's freezing up here." "Dave, we gotta get to work. The boys can always count on me being at the gates early, so if you don't get up, I'm leaving you behind." This seems to wake him up a little more, "Alright, alright fine." he shivers as he gets up. I throw him his top shirt and vest and he desperately claws them on to gain warmth. Carefully, we climb down the ladder.

"What'd I tell ya, Dave? Even in the middle of summer, the night's always freezing." Davey rolls his eyes and does a little shiver "I know, Jackie, now c'mere and warm me up" I grin and move in closer, holding his hand, as we start walking to the gates. "Still not warm enough!" Davey said in a singsong-ish voice. I sigh and feign annoyance, leaning in to give a short but sweet peck on the lips. I think he's satisfied now. We're not usually this lovey-dovey, but I think we're both touch starved and subtly begging for a hug.

Davey, being the amazing boyfriend he is, stops by Jacobis to get us some breakfast. "Dave, you really don't hafta-" "I insist, Jack. After all, breakfast is the most important meal of the day," he says in an almost snobbish voice. I give him a small smile. That's my smartass Dave.

As we get to the gates, I notice a small figure leaned up against it. By now, the sun has come up some more over Manhattan 'n Dave 'n I don't have to walk as close to warm ourselves up. The figure seems to be sleeping, a newsies cap over their eyes. I think it's a kid. Maybe a new newsie looking for work?

I crouch down in front of him lift his hat, and start tapping his shoulder, "Aye, kid! Watcha doin sleepin on the street?" "Especially in a place this..." Davey notes. The kid seems to wake with a start. He rubs his eyes, and I chuckle a little "Whatsa matter? Ya look like youse seen a ghost." He doesn't seem to find this funny and repeatedly switches from looking at me then Davey with some confusion and shock in his eyes.

"I um-" he stutters over his words, "Aye, aye, kid, calm down, you ain't in trouble or nuttin." He takes a few deep breaths. "Okay... I'm (Y/N). I'm just freaking out because This isn't where I fell asleep, and- and I just- feel like I know you..." "Well, (Y/N) it sounds like you're one of da Newsies now," I say with a grin, "Now, we gots ta give you a nickname, we rarely eva call someone by their real name, 'cept Dave 'n Albert of course," The kid stays silent, clearly still shocked from waking up in a foreign place. "I feel like I know you.." he says, barely discernible. "Maybe ya do, maybe ya don't, Dave here's the only one good with faces." The kid looks up at Davey, who seems deep in thought, "(N/N)" he exclaims, "Ah, sorry, what I meant was your nickname should be (N/N)!" "I like it! But why (N/N) exactly?" I question, "Well, *insert reason why here*" "Well ain't you a clever boy, Dave!" I say, ruffling his hair. Davey shies away, "Jack! Now I have to fix my hair!" he complains, "Sorry, sorry." Davey then leaves to fix his hair in front of a shop window nearby, leaving me and (N/N) alone.

(N/N) seems to want to say something, but as soon as he opens his mouth, he shuts it just as quickly. I try to fill the awkward silence, "So, what's wit' da bandages, kiddo?" He freezes, "Nothing, just a ploy to get people to buy more papes..." he trails off. I have a feelin' he's not tellin' the truth, but I go along with it anyway, "Ha! What an idea, I wonder how I neva thought a' that before." he smiles, seeming satisfied with the praise. Davey returns from the shop window, "Alright! Ready to start the day?" (N/N) nods, and so do I.

Newsies start gathering, some glancing at (N/N) and some anxiously peering through the gates. I look at the headline for today: New Newsie Price! "Aye, Dave, you seein' this shit?" "Language- and yeah... what in the world was runnin' through Pulitzer's head when he thought of this??" I look at (N/N), whose mouth is a thin, pale line but whose (E/C) eyes are glinting with determination. "Heh, kid, what's that look for?" He looks at me, a little startled, but quickly regains that same tough expression, "I have a feeling that this ain't some silly little joke. And I'm worried 'bout the kids that may get hurt in the crossfire." I laugh, "Youse just bein dramatic! Surely, they wouldn't be as dumb as to underpay their own employees." I walk over to Weasel and slap down a penny "100 papes please!" "That's gonna be dime, Kelly."

My heart almost stops, and it takes all my strength not to break down in front of the boys. I fake a laugh, "Surely you're joking." "100 papes costs a dime, take a look at the headline." I hit the money box out of anger, "Then we'll just take our business to Brooklyn." Someone pipes up, "The same thing's happenin' there." "Then we'll go to Rushing!" Specs jogs over, seemingly out of breath, "I'll save ya the walk; it's the same everywhere."

Fuck.

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Y/N POV:

A sharp pain in my chest temporarily distracts me from the situation at hand. Ah. I almost forgot. I still have to bind. This sucks. I feel a pair of eyes on me and turn just in time to see Racetrack Higgins avert his eyes. I give him a confused look and turn back to Jack singing "The World Will Know" I forget all about his weird staring and get back into the determined beat from before.

Soon, the newsies and I make our way to Jacobis for some...water I guess? I do happen to have some extra money in my pocket so I think I can treat all the boys to some seltzer. I sit down on a hard wooden chair in a slouch. The room is buzzing with excited talk of the strike. I give a small, sad smile. These boys have no idea what they're getting themselves into. Crutchie sits next to me serving a wide smile just as Jacobi enters with a tray full of waters, "And here's one for you, and for you, and for you- who's the big spender that ordered everyone seltzer?" shyly, I raise my hand, "That's me, sir." "You know these cost a quarter each, right?" I pull out a handful of quarters with a cheeky smile "and I got more where that came from." The boys go wild, "Where did ya get all that money, kid??" Davey, being the concerned mom, asks "Please tell me you didn't steal that." I shake my head, "I used to live comfortably, but my mom kicked me out for...reasons." my grin falters for a second, but no one seems to notice.

"Well!" Jack stands on a table, "Here's to the strike! And, of course, (N/N)" He gestures towards me with a wink as everyone cheers. As Katherine enters, I start to zone out and stare at a speck of dust on the ground. After all, I know the plot all too well. I perk up, though, as soon as Jack asks who's goin' to Brooklyn. My hand shoots up, "I nominate me and Race!" I exclaim. I look over at Race, who's staring at me, blushing and jaw dropped a little. I grin at him and look back at Jack, who's a little shocked. "A-alright! Me and Dave'll take the Bronx, I guess."

*Timeskip to after the restaurant scene*

I walk down the Manhatten alleys blindly, no clue where I'm going, when I hear someone come up behind me. "Hey, (N/N)! It's me, Race." I smile weakly, "Oh, hey." "I always sell my papes at Sheepshead in Brooklyn, so I know where to go."

It's almost completely silent except for the clicking of our shoes on the paved roads. "So... how'd ya get here as a Newsie, (N/N)?" "Well, Jack 'n Davey found me sleepin' on the street just this mornin'" He laughs, "Wow! So you got used to the Newsie life real quick!" "Yeah, I did.." I let out a small chuckle as well. Race pulls out a cigar and clamps it between his lips and goes to light it but hesitates. "Uh- Wanna cigar?" "Wow, Racetrack Higgins giving me one of his own cigars? I'm flattered!" I joke, "But, yeah, I need smoke." He digs into his pocket and hands me another cigar, "You eva' smoked before?" he stares at me as I put the cigar in between my lips. I grin sheepishly, "No." "Okay, maybe we should stop for a second. Coughing while walking ain't the most fun thing in the woild."

We lean up against a wall as Race lights first his, then my cigar. I inhale and immediately spiral into a coughing fit. Race smacks my back, "You good, (N/N)? I ain't neva' seen a fella cough that hard on the first puff." I roll my tear-filled eyes and continue coughing.

Once my coughing fit subsides, I feel a wave of relaxation. "God I should do this more often." I groan, Race grins, "Yeah, once you get past the whole blowin'-your-brains-out part of smokin', it's real nice. Anyway, shall we continue?" he gestures to the streets ahead. I nod my head and take another puff, "Yeah, it's gettin' kinda late and we do NOT wanna wake up the Spot Conlon." Race nods in agreement and we hurry along. Even though I know Spot is kind of a softie, that doesn't stop me from being intimidated by his prowess.

We reach the Brooklyn lodging just as Race's cigar burned out. Race takes a deep breath and gives three solid knocks on the door. A kid younger than me answers the door, "State ya business" "I'm here to let Conlon know about some very important news." The kid squints his eyes but responds "I'll ask him if he's willing to meet with anyone right now. Who should I tell him is askin'?" "Race. Higgins." He says somewhat awkwardly.

The kid closes the door. Race and I stand quietly waiting for the OK to see Spot. Suddenly the door swings open to reveal Spot. "Ra-" he notices me and coughs, "I mean- Higgins, would you like to step in to discuss the important news?" I almost laugh at the way he went from totally in love to distinguished gentleman. I shoo them away, holding in laughter, "don't worry, I'll wait out here and give you lovebirds some space." (A/N: or should I say sprace) I see them both go tomato red.

I sigh as they head inside. I take a drag from the cigar and start thinking. How did I end up in the newsies universe and act this calm about it? This feels so surreal. But I want to stay here forever. Far away from my sh!tty mom and all my responsibilities.

Lost in my own head, I barely notice as Racetrack storms out of the lodging, clearly pissed. "C'mon (N/N), we're leaving." he grabs my hand and angrily powerwalks to the next street over. Once we're there, he lets go of my hand and sighs harshly, walking slow. "I assume it didn't go well?" I ask, already knowing the answer. "Not. Well." "Wanna talk about it?" he shakes his head and starts walking "No, thanks. I think we's better get to bed before Jack gets worried." he stops. "Do you have a place to sleep?" I look down, "Not really..." "Well!" he grabs my hand again with a big grin, "Looks like youse bunkin' wit' me." I start to protest, but realize it'd get me nowhere with this stubborn SOB, so I let myself get dragged along. Oh, well. I might as well get rest for the strike tomorrow, goodness knows I need it.

As I settle down into the rough sheets, the gentle snoring rocks me to sleep with thoughts of the strike. One thought flashes through my mind before I fall asleep; God help us all.

I wake up to someone poking my face. My eyes flutter open and I almost fall off the bunk at the sight of Race's face right in front of mine. "JESUS CHRIST, RACE, YOU SCARED THE SH!T OUTTA ME!" He backs off, putting his hands up in surrender, "Sorry, sorry, it's just that Jack said you had to be up and out in 10 minutes so we can have an organized strike or whateva'" Race rolls his eyes, "I'm startin' ta think that Davey's rubbin' off on 'im a lil' too much."

I groan, tempted to slide back under the covers, but get up anyway. I slept with my clothes on so I don't have to do anything about that. As I look into an old, rusted mirror and comb my fingers through my now tangled hair, I feel another sharp pain in my chest, accompanied by a dull throbbing. I really should have taken off the bandages while I slept, but now it's too late. I take one last look in the mirror and, ignoring my eyebags, quickly head out the door to join the others. As I get to the gate, everyone's waiting with anticipation, faces grim but hopeful.

Everything happens in a blur. One moment we're striking, and the next we're beaten into a pulp. I manage to soak a Delancey in the eye when suddenly a familiar sharp pain fills my chest and wince, faltering. Morris takes this as an opportunity to knee me in the stomach, forcing me to the ground, where their take turns kicking my chest and body with those damn steel-toed boots of theirs until my clothes are torn and the cuts on my arms reopen. Suddenly, there's a small crack as my body swells up with pain and the taste of metal enters my mouth. I let out a blood-curdling scream as the pain registers in my brain. In my blurred vision, I see the Delancey's walk away, ready to torture their next victim; Crutchie.

I try to get up and reach out, try to scream at them not to hurt him, but all I can do is weakly move my hand in their direction and spit out blood. Suddenly, a small but rough hand reaches out and drags me into an alley. "Dammit, (N/N) what were you thinking?! Fighting in a gawddamn binder, and a makeshift one, no less!" "R-..Race..?" "Not now, (N/N) I have ta get youse to safety foist." I watch as he chews on his nails in thought, "Dammit! The only way back to tha lodge is through the Delancey's again!" He sighs. "Brooklyn it is..." He gingerly picks me up and carries me as fast as possible to Spot's turf.

Setting my feet on the ground and propping me up against him, he bangs on the door. "Spot!" Please! This is serious, I need your help!" I can hear the tears in his voice. Spot flings open the door, obviously very concerned. He's confused for a second, then looks at me and his eyes go wide. "GET THE MED KIT AND A COT OPEN, WESE GOT SOMETHING HORRIBLE THAT'S HAPPENED" he yells behind him. Race, now more calmed down, takes me in his arms again, but seems to refuse to look at Spot, who looks away as well, but more in shame.

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Race POV:

I watch as some of the Brooklyn newsies take (N/N) and lay him on a cot, anger surging through my veins. I take a deep breath "I'll take care of him. You guys don't have to worry about it." As they leave the room, I look down at (N/N) and can't help but feel guilty. Like this is my fault. I only got away with a black eye, but he got all this?

I regain my composure and start by taking (N/N) shirt off. I can already see the bruises starting to form and cringe. I take off his binding bandages and see his chest expand immediately. Poor kid. He must have been hurting in more way that just one. I take the gauze from the wooden box and gently wrap his torso with it. Maneuvering around his arms, I notice something. The bandages on him arms. When he was wearing them before, Jack said it was a marketing ploy, but now I see red bleeding through the white gauze.

I unwrap (N/N)'s arms and gasp. Hundreds of tiny, but deep cuts litter his forearms and wrists. F#ck. He was hurting so much more than I could have ever known. I wrap them with fresh gauze and treat the rest of his wounds, stepping back to admire my handiwork. That's when I start to cry. Full-on tears falling, face in hands crocodile tears. I turn my head with a start to see Spot, standing over me with a hand on my shoulder, looking apologetic "I'm so sorry..." Suddenly this sadness turns to rage. I grab him by the shirt collar and drag him outside to an empty alleyway. "SORRY?? SORRY, MY 4SS! (N/N) AND SO MANY OTHER 'HATTEN NEWSIES ALMOST DIED OUT THERE BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T WANT TO JOIN UNTIL YOU KNEW WE WOULDN'T "CAVE" WELL, WE DIDN'T CAVE, AND LOOK WHAT F#CKING HAPPENED! AND DONT YOU SAY SORRY TO ME AND EXPECT ME TO FORGIVE YOU JUST BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, THAT'S FOR CROW TO DECIDE." Spot seemed silent at first, but now I could see his anger building up; "WADDAYA THINK WOULD O' HAPPENED TO MY BOYS, HUH?? I WANTED TO WAIT TO SEE IF WE WOULD BE THE ONLY ONES FIGHTIN IN THIS BATTLE AGAINST PULITZER."

I open my mouth then close it. He has a fair point, but doesn't he trust me and the udda newsies not to bail in their hour of need? I sigh, pinching my nose. "I'm sorry Spot, I just-... I just wish you trusted me a bit more..." I look up at him to see tears in his eyes. "OH, SPOT HONEY, ITS OKAY, I'M NOT MAD, DON'T CRY, DON'T CRY" I shush him, pulling his head into my chest, which isn't tough considering his height.

As he lets go, the adrenaline rush from today dies down. God, I'm so tired. My knees nearly buckle and Spot notices, "Aye, aye! Tony, you doin' okay?" I nod at him, but the bags under my eyes are making them droop, "Race, honey, you need to get some sleep, okay?" I shake my head but soon fall into Spot's arms as my legs give way. "Fine..." I mumble. I can feel him grinning, "Good, we gots an extra bed for youse to sleep in." I sigh, grateful. I can feel Spot picking me up, the rhythm of his boots tapping along the ground, a pause and shift as he opens the lodging door and kicks it closed behind him as I fall asleep.

I wake up in a cold sweat. (N/N). I need to see (N/N). I need to check if he's okay. I climb out of the bed Spot laid me in and let my eyes adjust to the dark before maneuvering around all the other sleeping kids. I make my way as quietly as possible to where (N/N) is resting. I crouch down and take his hand in mine. How could I let this happen? And how did I not notice his suffering? I press the back of his hand to my forehead, closing my eyes. My body is so tired right now, but my mind is too tortured with guilt to let me sleep.

By the time my thoughts finally leave me alone, the sun is rising in the sky. I'm finally drifting when- "Race?" I turn my head to the voice, "Oh, jesus, you look horrible!" Spot exclaims, "did you even get any sleep last night?" I shrug, to be fair, I lost count of the hours. Spot sighs, "Race...go sleep. At least for a few more hours. I can watch (N/N) if that makes you happy," I nod, rubbing my eyes. I stumble back to my bed amongst all the Brooklyn newsies and fall asleep the moment my head hits the pillow.

My mind dreams of talkin' cigars and bloody bandages. I see Crow propped up against the wall, smokin' a cigar. "(N/N)! (N/N)! Oh my god, I'm so happy that you're okay!" (N/N) doesn't answer, I slowly starts walking towards him, "(N/N)...?" he starts laughing. Softly at first then roaring, and the laughing turns into a heavy coughing fit. As (N/N) coughs, red smoke pours out of his lungs and clouds my vision. I swipe at the air, trying to brush away the fog, "(N/N)?? (N/N), where did you go?!" suddenly, the smoke clears and I see (N/N) bruised, damaged, bleeding body at my feet, I gasp and step back. (N/N) slowly turns to face me, and in a painful, teary, almost sickly whisper asks, "Why did you let this happen?" Tears start spilling down my face, "I- I didn't me-" "You did this to me Race. Race. Race. Race! Race! RACE! RACE!--

Spot POV:

--RACE WAKE UP!" He wakes up with a gasp. He looks around wildly, tears dripping from his chin. I've never seen him like this. He must care for him like a brudda. To be honest, I'm worried as well, not only about (N/N) but now that we know 'Hatten isn't gonna back down and we join the fight, what's gonna happen to the newsies in general? Kids could get hoit. Bad.

"Spot?" Race starts sobbing, clinging to my shirt fabric, "Please...tell me it'll be okay..." I can't. Race, I don't know if it will. I almost start sobbing on the Spot ( A/N: heh...), but I hold my composure and smile at him, "It'll be okay, Tony...we're all gonna be fine" He seems to believe this, at least a little bit. "Now, don't you gotta meet up wit' da udda newsies?" He retracts his head from my chest, eyes wide. In a nasal voice, he goes "AW SHOOT, I 'MOST FORGOT" I watch him with a small smile as he rushes to get dressed like the goof he is. God, I love 'im.

Race POV:

Silence. I got there too early. Fuck. I can't just be alone with my thoughts, but at least I have some extra money to... I don't know? I walk up to the bar, where the owner of Jacobi's is cleaning out glasses. I sigh and sit down, "Got anything to help forget? At least for a little while...?"

"Ain't you a little too young for that, kid?" I give him a look and push my money over the counter to him. He quietly collects it, "So what can I get ya?" I'm silent for a bit "Fireball." I say with some demand in my voice. He disappears behind the counter and comes back with some shot glasses and a Fireball bottle, pouring it out into the glasses as I watch. I notice as he sighs, "Feel betta, kid." Can't promise that.

I pick up a shot glass, watching as the orange liquid spins around in it. I take in a breath of spicy cinnamon before letting the liquid slip down my throat, leaving a trail of a burning sensation. Soon, one turns into another, and another, and another and before I could comprehend it, the room starts to spin and blur. Eventually, the room fills with newsies, mumblin' 'bout how crappy the strike went. I do my very best to fit in and not act drunk, but the time zooms by and I find myself singin' 'bout bein' the king o' new york. At some point in the blurry memory, Katherine suggests getting drunk and I throw my hands up and cheer. More free Fireball! But then she clarifies that it was a metaphor, to which I am very disappointed.

The rest whizzes past me and soon I'm stumblin' my way to Brooklyn. I knock heavily on the lodging door, then lean on it. Unexpectedly, the door opens and I'm left to fall flat on my face at the feet of my boyfriend, Spot Conlon. "Race! Darlin', you okay? Youse fell flat on ya face!" He extends a hand that I receive and pulls me up. I giggle, "Ahhhh, my Spotty! Always carin' 'bout uddas. Pshht! Yeah, I'm fiiiine." I flop my hand down to wave off his concern. He wrinkles his nose, "You reek of cinnamon....and alcohol." He widens his eyes and I let out anudda giggle, "Race! Tell me you didn't jus' get drunk!" he whines, I grin, "Okey, 'you didn't jus' get drunk'" I imitate him in a deep voice and he sighs, "Jesus Christ, Racer.." he grabs my hand pulls me inside, eventually laying me on a bed, face red with a giggling fit. "Goodnight, my liege," I giggle some more, "and you my Prince," he gives a small smile before covering me with a blanket. I fall asleep before it's up over my shoulders.

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I wake up with my head feeling like it's going to explode.

Fuck Life.

I groan and sit up. "Mornin' Sleepin' Beauty" Spot smirks and hands me a cup of water, "Shut the fuck up" I whine and grab the glass, "Ooh feelin' feisty today, huh?" I shoot him a look that could rot a squash with one gaze. He holds up his hands in defense, "Alright, alright, my bad," He shrugs. I sigh and take a sip of water, which turns into me chugging the whole thing. "You betta get ova this hangover fast, hon" I groan, not ready to do anything at all today, "We gots the meetin' wit' Jack."

End my life.

"No, I don't think I will," "fuuuuck did I say that out loud?" I let out a small wail, and Spot chuckles a little, though you can tell there's somethin' on his mind still, "Yeah, ya did sweetheart." I grumble something incomprehensible and look down, red. He smiles, "Get dressed and drink as much water as possible, okay? We can't have you hungover for the big meeting, right?" I nod...which causes my head to hurt. Ow.

I sigh and decide to take my sweet time getting dressed. This sucks. "Spotty!" I call, then cringe after a new wave of pain hits, he pokes his head through the door "Yeah?". "I don't have the energy to deal wit' all dese gawddamn bandages. Help me?" He blushes a bit but agrees to help me bind. All I focus on is not hurting my head again. Spot ties the bandages and stands back to admire his handiwork but quickly notices my cringin'. "Do you want somethin' cold?" he asks gently, I nod as gingerly as possible.

*Timeskip to after the newsies meet n greet bcuz I'm power-finishing this at 12am and my mental health is steadily declining*

My hand shakes as I bring a fresh, unlit cigar to my lips.

Jack. That sellout, that traitor.

A sharp pain knocks me out of my angry thoughts. Ah. I burned myself.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, "Racer.." says a gentle voice, "You okay? that's your 3rd cigar in the past 2 hours or so." I look up to see Finch leaning over me as I sit on the ground, a concerned look on his face, "You're gonna run out all too soon" I give a bitter laugh, "Yeah, I guess I will." Finch can see that there's not much he can do to help me. He gives a weak smile and turns to walk away.

I see Davey run off somewhere. I wonder where they're going? I sigh and turn my head back down to the ground. Who cares? Without a leader, the strike'll just fall apart and Pulitzer'll win. Who was I kidding when I bragged abt being da "King o' New York"? I'm just some nobody kid without a nickel to my name. The bigger guys always win, so what's with me tryin'?

Jack POV:

I can't let any more kids get in this much danger. I visited (N/N) today. I found out about all his... injuries, as well as whatever he was born as. He's been through so much before all this, he doesn't deserve it.

It's my fault for being so ignorant. For not noticing anything was goin' on. My fault for inciting this stupid strike. For getting all these kids hoit. and Crutchie...poor Crutchie, locked up in that godawful place. I know he ain't helpless, 'e's a cheeky little bastard, I'll give him that, but the Refuge breaks down even the biggest of smiles and smothers the brightest of people. I will never forget that hell I went through. I went in a cheeky fightin' kid with a deep, strong flame, and came out with the embers barely glowing. It took years just to spark it up again. I'm terrified as to what'll happen to him.

I lean over the railing of my penthouse, not even noticing as it shakes and squeaks, making way for a young boy a little younger den me. "-Jack! JACK!" "Jesus Christ, yeah??? Oh, it's you, Dave..." I look away shamefully, he's probably here to chew me out and tell me we're done and gone. "What the hell was that?" I wince, I knew it. "Waddya mean 'what the hell was that?'?" "You know what I mean, JACK KELLY." I'm fucked. "YOU BETRAYED US FOR MONEY?!" "I WOULDN'T HAVE FELT PRESSURED TO IF I WADN'T DEALIN' WIT' A FLAKER!" Davey gives a bitter laugh and balls up the front of my shirt in his fist, tugging me towards him. "Ohoho! And if I wasn't your 'best friend' you'd be lookin' at me through one swollen eye!" "Oh, yeah? Well, don't let that stop ya, huh? Gimme your best shot!" something soft roughly pressing against my lips. The only thought at the moment is; 'Well, this is new... and passionate, 'specially from Dave' there's a heavy, awkward silence.

I back away from him, knocking over my drawings in the process. One specific drawing rolls out seemingly by fate. It taps on Davey's shoe and he looks down. His eyes widen a little as he reaches down to get it. "Is this.. the Refuge?" he puts a hand over his mouth, "weren't you stuck here once? Rats, cockroaches everywhere, 6 kids to a bunk? Holy fuc- I mean fudge." If the moment weren't this tense, I might've laughed. "Jack..." I feel a hand on my shoulder. "You don't have to tell me if you're not ready." I shake my head and he drops his arm understandingly. "Either way, we could use this. Heck..." Davey seems deep in thought before his face lights up, "We could make our own newspaper!" I look at him in disbelief, he notices, and speaks again "think about it, Jackie! Kath's a real talented writer! This art could change the perspective of hundreds! We could write to tell all the workin' boys to go on Strike tomorra'! And we could expose Snyder in the process!" Hey, that's not too bad..."But, Dave, how're we gonna print it?" His face falls, "I didn't think about it...we're banned from every printin' press in New York.."

Oh no. Ohhh no. "No. Noooo." I whine, Davey chuckles, amused "what?" "I know a printin' press that no one would ever think of!" Davey grins, "Then what are we waitin' for?" He puts my drawing back into the case, and slings it over his shoulder, getting ready to climb down. Suddenly, a thought strikes me, "Wait-" "Yeah?" "Dave- what are we exactly? Like I know how we act to each other n' everything, but we've never really said out loud what we are..." Davey giggles, "Jackie-" "No! Tell me right now, are we... in love? Boyfriends, I guess?? Or am I just something for your own experimentation?"

He cups my face in his hands, "Jackie..." he kisses my nose, "Of course I love you! And yes! We are in love! Dating! Boyfriends! Whichever way you want to define us!" Soon we're both grinning ear-to-ear and blushing. "Now!" he exclaims, hopping up, clearly on a high from the whole kiss and convo, "Let's get to it!" I laugh and stand up as well, following my over-enthusiastic boyfriend down the ladder. As Davey said; Let's get to it!

(Y/N) POV:

'My head hurts...' I think groggily. I try to open my eyes, but my vision is blurred and wonky. I sit up. Nevermind. Everything hurts. As my vision starts to clear, I see a very tired Spot Conlon sitting in a chair in the corner of whatever room I'm in rubbing sleep from his eyes. He fixates his eyes on me for a second, and I can see the sleepiness and confusion in his eyes turn into shock and joy. "(N/N)! Ohmygod! I'm so glad you'se awake!" I can see him go to wrap me in a bear hug before holdin' himself back after he remembers all my injuries. Wait. My injuries. "Does this mean you know about...?" I vaguely gesture to my arms and Spot nods sadly, "And..." I cringe and gesture to my chest, now only lightly bound with medical tape, but tighter than needed for a typical injury. I smile to myself. That must've been Race. He's like a perfect older brother, not only thinkin' about my physical health, but also my mental well-being.

Spot notices the look on my face and sees me lookin' down at my chest, he chuckles, "Yeah, Race decided on that. He wanted you to feel as comfortable as possible while you heal." I start grinning even harder. Spot spoke up again "Don't forget that even boys born seen as boys don't have perfectly flat chests, so binding as tight as you did wasn't necessary or safe, for that matter." I give him a look, is Spot really trying to be the cis savior right now? He gives me a look right back, "What? I know what I'm talking about." He lifts his shirt up to reveal two scars on his chest. I gasp, "But you're only *insert years/months* younger/older than me! How did you even know that this was an option, as well, how did you do it?" He smirks, pulling his shirt back down, "Thought so. Anyway, I don't really know. I needed them off desperately and randomly thought of it. As for the how, Buttons is AMAZING with scissors and blades. Like, scary amazing." He shivers. I blink. Damn.

He gives a shy grin "Do I really pass that well?" I look at him enviously "Of course! But... how do you look so...masculine?" "Well, I tried my best to copy the behavior of other boys I saw. And the whole working out didn't hurt." I nod, taking a mental note. Behavior, got it. Can't promise sticking to a workout, though. Spot scoots closer, taking my hand in his, "But the most important thing to understand is- behavior, body type, and a powerful reputation doesn't define being a true boy. What does is what's in here-" he taps my head, "-and here." he points to my heart. Spot looks me in my eyes, "You could wear dresses, skirts, use a 'girly' name, hell, even go by she! and you'd still be a boy in my eyes." I feel my eyes water, and Spot opens his arms to me with a sincere look. I fall into his arms and cry tears of joy. Spot and Race are the older brothers I never had, helping me at every fork in the road of my transition.

(A/N: I noticed that a big issue in trans fanfics was that the cis person was always the one to condescendingly teaching the helpless trans kid how to bind properly. I decided to make both of your mentors trans, had them both know what they're talking about, and made sure that you weren't completely useless or clueless, only that you needed guidance seeing as (Y/N) is a trans kid with no former knowledge about his transition. As well, I kinda wanted this fic to be of help to any newcomer trans men. Anyway, on to the last of the story!)

"So how are your ribs feeling?" Spot asks after we both calm down, "A little sore, but pretty much moveable. Is it really this painful to bind? I mean, the past few weeks I had the binding stuff on was my first time." "It shouldn't, I mean, lookit Race. He seems energetic and flexible even when he's binding." I think he sees my insecure face because he speaks again, "What I mean to say is- if you have more experience binding, you'll know how to mix mental and physical comfort. Either way, what fucked up your ribs wasn't the binding, it was the Delancey's. Not saying the way you were binding wasn't bad and wouldn't have caused lasting damage, of course."

I see Spot have a flicker of thought behind his eyes, he pulls out an obviously stolen silver pocket watch with the initials H.A. engraved on it to check the time. "Almost time..." he mutters. I give him a suspicious look, "Almost time for what...?" he looks sheepishly at the ground, "Nnnnnothing." I let out a noise halfway between a snort and a scoff, "Uh huh." "Fine." he sighs, "All the newsies and workin' boys is comin' together today. We'se hopin' ta finish up this strike Once And For All."

"Let me guess, I shouldn't go because I'm still healing." He nods, "Spot!! I need to do my part in this strike! I can't miss the most important day of my life." he gives me a weird look, "You don't even know what the outcome'll be, plus I promised Race that you wouldn't get hurt." "Please, I've been bedridden for WEEKS. And I won't get hurt" I protest stubbornly, he sighs exasperatedly "FINE, but I'm gettin' you right outta there at the foist sign o' danger, okay?" "Okay!" I say, content with the compromise. "We should prolly get you up and used to legs again before the strike--" my stomach rumbles harder than Les when he sees the chocolate croissants in the Pastry Shop window, and that's seriously saying somethin', "--and something to eat, too."

Spot holds my hands as I get out of bed and basically learn to walk again with wobbly legs. You could just paint my back with spots and call me a baby deer. Once I get my legs to work with me, Spot leads me to a tin tub. I give him a 'seriously?' look, "What am I doin', goin' ta church?" he laughs sarcastically, "Ha, ha. (N/N), you haven't cleaned yourself since the last time you were conscious. I also need to refresh your bandages since those haven't been touched since Race changed them in the foist place." "Fiiiine" I growl.

Spot unwraps my arm and chest bandages, but when it comes to me taking off the rest of my clothes, he looks away (not even for my privacy, but just because he is highly repulsed to the idea of naked bodies) I add enough soap suds on top of the water to cover my body so he's comfortable.

He grabs some soap and lathers up my hair with it, soon rinsing it. He also lathers and rinses my face, removing the built-up dirt, grease, and sweat, which accumulated surprisingly quickly for only spending a month, or was it two, here. Spot brings out a small piece of scrap fabric and a bottle of some liquid, then gently grabs my arms. "This might burn a little," he said empathetically. He dampened the cloth with what I am assuming is disinfectant and started pressing it against my healing cuts. I tried to hold in my pain but let out a small hiss when the cloth reached the deeper cuts on the backs of my arms. Spot stopped temporarily, letting my arms adjust to the sting a little, before continuing. Once he's finished, he hands me the soap and leaves the room to let me bathe myself in peace and picks up my dirty clothes and old bandages. "Holler if you need anything!" he yells on his way out.

I create a lather in my hands and stand up so I can actually wash my body. The air is chilly compared to the bathwater, so I do my best to be quick as I let my soap hands travel gingerly over my body. I look down, and for the first time in a long time, I don't feel ashamed. Spot words echo in my mind as I smile softly; 'You could wear dresses, skirts, use a 'girly' name, hell, even go by she! and you'd still be a boy in my eyes.' I guess, for now, I'm confident in my masculinity.

I sit back down, enjoying the warmth, and rinse myself off. I step out of the bath and look at the grey-ish brown-ish water. Ew, was I really that dirty? As the cold air envelops me once more, I realize I don't have a towel. Or clothes. "Spot!" I call out, "Yeah?" I hear a faint voice, "I need a towel and some clothes!" I answer. There's quiet, then a series of rustling sounds that slowly get closer. The door opens a crack and I see a tan, muscular hand slide a pile of clothes and a towel in my direction. I smile gratefully, "Thanks, Spotty!" "Aye! Only Race can call me dat..." "Okay, fine."

I dry my hair as much as possible, before continuing to my body. There's not much actual rubbing rather than patting because of my injuries, so when I get my pants on and slip my button-down onto my shoulders, they get a little damp. "Spot?" I call out again, "Do you think you could help me with my bandages?" "'Course!" He casually picks up the chest bandages and binds it pretty much perfectly- Tight enough to make a difference in my chest size, but loose enough to let my ribs heal. Spot then starts re-bandaging my arms, "Can I ask you a question, Spot?" "Sure, (N/N)" he says nonchalantly, "Why is it you are repulsed by fully naked bodies, but you're perfectly casual and fine about helping me bind my chest when I'm half-naked?" he clears his throat as if he was ready to spin a whole story, "Well, Race used to live with me and we started trusting each other a lot more than when we first met. He trusted me enough to teach him the best way to bind, and he trusted me enough to feel comfy without a top on when around the house, so I'm kinda desensitized. But when it comes to people being naked or bein' overly suggestive, I just..don't like it. At all."

'Asexual,' I think, 'Knew it."

"Anyway, you ready to fight off the bulls and get our rights back, (N/N)?" He stands up and offers a hand to help me up, which I receive. I catch my reflection in the dirty bathwater. I can see crystal clear, that I am dapper, strong, and ready to kick some Delancey ass.

But first, Lunch.

Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω

I arrive at the strike on Spot's shoulders, hyped for the happy ending they all worked so hard for. Spot sets me down gently and scans the crowd for someone. It seems he found them because his face lights up. I see Race run over to us. "(N/N)! Oh my god, I'm so fuckin' glad that you're awake! Especially today of all days!" however, his enthusiasm is soon replaced with concern, "But is ya sure yer okay? You must've woken up just today, so are you feeling good? Yer injuries don't hurt too bad, you're not dizzy, hungry, thirsty?" "Calm down, Tony, I gave him a bath, changed his bandages, gave him food n' water, even a pep talk, so you don't need to worry!" Race takes a few deep breaths, "Okay, okay, yeah I'm fine. But that's great!" He engulfs me in a firm, but gentle hug. I look around the crowd and see some familiar faces, Katherine seems to have brought another girl with her, who I'm assuming is Sarah, Davey's sister. I see Albert and Elmer tightly holding each other's hands. I see Finch and Smalls exchanging jokes as a form of distraction. I look back at Race and Spot, who are being so romantic, it's almost gross. Almost.

The adrenaline still hasn't left me so when people start getting as excited as me, it just hypes me up even more. We look up at the window of Pulitzer's office and see Jack and a few others standing there, waving. I wave back vigorously. Not too long after, Jack, Davey, Pulitzer, and The Governer appear on a balcony, Jack at the front. "Newsies of New York City..." cue the pause for dramatic effect, "WE WON!!" The crowd of newsies roars with joy. I watch as Crutchie limps out and beats Snyder's ass as the abuser is dragged away, I don't understand why so many people see him as an angel, it's obvious that he's a cheeky lil' rat bastard.

Suddenly, it's like everything is in slow motion. I look around once more and see Katherine and Sarah kissing, same with Albert and Elmer, Finch and Smalls are hugging each other tightly. I look back up at the balcony and see Davey and Jack gettin' it ON. I look once again to Spot and Race, who just finished kissing. Spot reaches down and hoists me onto his shoulders to cheer. And as I take in this momentous victory one sense at a time, I realize in a moment of pure bliss-

I finally found my true family.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Word Count: 8190

(A/N):

This took VERY LONG (approx. one month, I just finished after working from 9 pm to 5 am) I know it was supposed to be a simple one-shot, but since there was no one to help narrow down and shorten the plot for me, I got carried away. I am, however, pleased with the length of it. This may be the longest fic I've ever written. As well, I hope any underlying advice or tips mentioned in the story helped you to understand/realize something.

I would love it if you were to vote, give me some constructive criticism, and/or request something for me to write! Don't forget- I live to write that one fanfic you can never find.

Love y'all!

~ Race

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talisidekick · 2 years

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Today ... I see a psychogist.

Today I see a psychologist to get my official diagnosis for "gender dysphoria". I'm scared for hundreds of reasons. A lot of them small things, but things I focus on none the less. I feel myself backsliding into impostor syndrome, I feel exposed, I feel all the progress I've made slipping away because now ... I have to talk about it. I have no problem bringing up my past trauma, I do it often in fact, but it's always been my choice. But today ... it's not my choice. It's a necessity I'm not in control of. I want the surgeries this official diagnosis would get me, no ... I need them. I'm tired of disassociating because I hate parts of myself so much I'd honestly take a knife to them myself if I knew it would help and not harm me. I would feel pain for these surgeries, I would bleed, I would risk death for them because after, even though it's months to heal, is peace of mind. Satisfaction that I'm more me, and less him.

But the biggest fear lies in a statement made below:

Everyone I've told ... isn't a therapist ... they're friends, chosen family, the occasional co-worker. They've told me it's "messed up" what I've went through, that "there's no way anything like that happened" because it sounds so archaic, "like a horror story you tell children to scare them into behaving". But now ... here's a person who deals with trauma ... who has training and experience ... who made their entire career into taking a look at people and their issues ... and I'm scared because ... how fucked up am I? How terrible were people to me? Public and private humiliation, physical abuse, mental abuse, coercion, manipulation, loss of agency ... it was my normal. I grew up with this. I flower it a bit behind larger less basic language because I worry it could trigger others so skip this part in pink if you don't want to read this but in truth... I was beaten for any percieved inconvenience, told I wasn't smart or good for anything, treated so visibly second best to my own sibling that I simply stopped asking for things because getting anything hurt more, I was forced to do things I didn't like even if I was vocal about it that I stopped complaining. I was assaulted twice weekly at school since grade 3 to grade 10. Kicked down stairs, tripped, pushed into lockers, punched, sexually assaulted, humiliated in front of my peers, shot at by BB guns and paintballs, beaten by a group of kids in the woods behind school, I had my fears actively used against me by bullies that include my own parents. I got hit in the head with a baseball bat and was left by school staff to my own devices as I bled from my nose and mouth. And I acted like I was fine to everyone, didn't complain, said I was okay. And that's light compared to what happened at 14. That event I'll only tell in person, but I wore a turtle-neck sweater through the hotter weeks of late july, early august to hide the bruises on my neck.

That was my normal. I lived it, survived it, each assault on me was just another day. And it took people to finally hear it to tell me that all I lived through was not normal. I told people initially because I'd hoped I wasn't alone ... but I was. And now ... now I get to let a stranger judge the horrible people in my life, to point out how terrible those people were ... and it scares me, because I'll get to finally fully understand fully just what I lived through because to me, despite the statements made by my chosen family ... that's still my normal, my basis of expected treatment. Every kiss, touch, hug, word of encouragement, and statement and admission of love makes me want to cry because deep inside I'm feeling thankful for every person treating me better than I had been told (and believed) I deserved.

And to top it all off. On top of all that growing up, I'd repressed why but ... I didn't feel human. Truth was, I'd been told boys thinking they're girls is sick and wrong and creepy and since I was determined I would never be sick or wrong or creepy ... I became nothing ... I couldn't change the way I felt but I could choose to feel nothing. I became a fact. I live. Simple, to the point, and acceptable. And it almost killed me, because when you can't feel, everything is effort without point. I'd been lied to because sometimes who we think is a girl is just a boy who needs help and sometimes who we think is a boy is a girl who needs help. There's nothing wrong with that. And had I known that, maybe I'd have hated myself a little less for being the demon my family would think I was, because I'd know I could change. Maybe not then, but in the future. Maybe I'd not repress how I feel and feel uncertain and like I'm lying to myself until the last possible moment. Maybe I'd have learned to cope better.

#unfortunately mine #just a vent really #scared but seeking help #trans #transgender #no other tags

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alexhasaknife · 2 years

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hello friends!!

I was trying to explain my dysphoria to someone, and realized!! that shits hard!! so i just threw together a little story about it (loosely, ofc) and wanted to share it!! enjoy!!

I woke up, and glanced at my clock. It said it was 11:23 AM. I took a deep breath, and sat up. Pushing my weighted blanket aside, I got out of bed. 11:23 meant that i had slept too late again, and I was going to be lethargic today if I didnt take my meds soon. I got my cup of water from the kitchen, fed my dog and cat, and headed to the bathroom.

I glanced at myself in the mirror, only to remember I forgot to put my glasses on. Setting my water down, I waltzed off to my room to find my glasses. They were right where I had left them last night, sitting on my nightside table, next to a note to remind me to take my meds. I threw my glasses on, and started to grab the slip of paper to throw it away- and stopped short.

My nightstand was a different color. Scratch that- everything was a different color. My bed, my walls, my floor, everything looked- colorful. Wait, was it my glasses? I took them off, and put them back on. No, not my glasses. I guess my eyes changed overnight? But that doesnt make any sense. That would be a medical miracle. Remembering about the note im my hand, I ran to the bathroom to take my meds.

I grabbed my water and meds, threw the note away, and was about to raise the water to my lips when I caught sight of myself in the mirror. Realizing the medicine was dissolving in my mouth, I glugged down the water, and started to stare again. This was the first time I had seen myself in full color. I knew I was colorblind, but also knew that there was nothing anyone could do about it. The meds were for my ADHD, but so many doctors had tried to give me something to make me see in colors.

I looked so… weird. My face was kind of the same, but not. I always thought I had grey eyes, but now they looked green. I also never noticed I had freckles. It’s hard to put into words, but it’s a bit like a huge weight was just lifted off of my shoulders. I blinked at the person in the mirror, and she blinked back. I stood and stared for a while longer, but then my stomach growled and I realized I hadnt eaten yet.

Rushing to the kitchen, I poured myself a bowl of cereal and sat at the island. I stared at the bowl of peaches in front of me, and wondered what color you would call that. Growing up colorblind, most of the colors look the same-ish. I got my phone from the bedroom, and looked up ‘color names’ to help me out a bit. The peaches looked kinda… orange? Yeah, orange looks the closest. I turned to the counter, which hadnt changed colors. I was wondering if my newfound powers were lapsing, and turned back to my phone in a mild panic. No, the colors were still there. I sat in confusion for half a second, then spotted a color that looked like my counter top. Grey. So thats all I’ve been seeing for all these years? Now I have a name for that color.

A rush of excitement filled me, and I ran around my apartment putting different things to color names. The tile in my kitchen was blue, and the countertop was white and grey. My ceiling was white, my couch was brown, my curtains were white- I stopped. Looking out the window, the full scheme of what I had been missing all these years finally hit me. I stood staring out at the veiw of Denver. It was beautiful.

I spent the rest of my day on cloud 9. I was so happy to finally be able to get to see all these colors, for the first time in my life. It was the weekend, so I didn't have to go to work, and I got to just look at colors all day. I walked around the park, went to starbucks, and did everything else I could think of to do. By the end of the day, I had decided that my favorite was this orange/yellow color I saw in the clouds around 7 o’clock. It had taken my breath away, and I was very sad to watch it leave.

That night, I wrote down some of the things I had seen today, because I thought it would be important to remember for later. I played some minecraft, and went to bed.

I woke up the day after this started, and put on my glasses. I put them on and off again several times. I couldnt believe it. My bedsheets, that had been green the day before, was back to grey. The floor, the nightstand, the ceiling, my curtains. They were all back to they way they had been all my life. I felt a stab of grief, and sank back into my pillows. Realizing I had work today, I got back up and somberly got ready.

I was so exited to tell all my coworkers about what happened. To ask them what their favorite color was. I wanted to say, “Hey, I’m like you now! Look at me!” but now I know I’ll never get the chance. I don’t know how, but I could feel that it wouldnt come back. Ever. So now I know exactly what I’m missing. I know what 93% of the world sees, how they all take it for granted. Or maybe they don’t who knows. All I know is that I’ve never felt so alone in those days after this all happened.

#dysphoria #dysphoric #trans #transgender #trans pride #writing #colorblind #adhd

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cottoncandy-jester · 4 years

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✨lie down darling it's time for a dream✨

Princess (hajime iwaizumi)

Okay so..once again I was inspired by someone's random drabble or thought. The person you all are to blame for this trashy horny mess is @iwaizoom

✨Sorry this is late was busy telling gender dysphoria to fuck off and it made me lose inspiration for a few days✨

Sorry it's short was gonna type more but tumblr app said absolutely not and deleted my last two drafts if this

This story contains: public sex, feral iwaizumi, light nipple play, iwaizumi with dick piercings, degrading, light breeding kink

A soft hum escaped you as you walked into the familiar shop that you tend to visit everyday, this time you were on a mission. You were wearing a pair of black leggings and a jacket which wasn't so bad but under that jacket was quite the surprise.

"babe!"

You called out only to see iwaizumi look up at you from cleaning the needles, it wasn't surprising to see you here but he didn't have any other clients today so it was just you two.

"hmm? Whats up princess?"

"I want a tattoo!"

Your words made him quite excited as he already had ideas of what tattoos to give you, he's done small tattoos for you in the past and everytime it gets him excited to know that he will be the one marking you and making your beautiful body into art.

"alright take a seat and tell me what ya want"

Phase one was now in order, you happily skip over to the chair before took a seat and unzipped your jacket while iwaizumi was setting everything up.

"well I was thinking of getting your name, I want it here!"

When iwaizumi looked up his eyes widened as he gulped and watched you feeling his cock harden

You lifted your shirt before trailing your hand to the area sitting right above your chest, iwaizumi's eyes were glued to your chest as he bit his lip to hold back to urge to attack your nipples with his mouth, honestly ever since you got those damn things he has been fucking you like crazy and it was coming to a point where it was like a trigger to him

It was like his mind blanks and next thing he knows he's balls deep inside of you with you shaking under him and begging him to stop before you break, this time he kept from blanking and simply stood up before pointing a shaking hand to the room in the back. He was now sweating as he tried to form words but his mind was filled with different positions to put you in so he could make you scream.

"g-gonna come up with the design in the back sit tight, and get ready"

As son as the words left his mouth he was rushing off while you pulled your shirt down holding back a devilish laugh, honestly his reaction was way too perfect.

When it came to doing the actual piercing, iwaizumi sat in front of you with his knees in-between his legs as his eyes were focused on your tattoo but ever so often his chest would brush against yours and the feeling of your nipples touching his thin tank top made him want to stop and just ravage you

finish the tattoo

Finish the tattoo

Finish

The

Tattoo

He was sweating bullets and once he finished he never wrapped a tattoo faster in his life before slamming the ink gun down panting softly as he glanced at his jeans which showed his throbbing bulge. He couldn't stand that fake innocent smile you gave him as you tried to pull your shirt down only for him to rip his gloves off before yanking your shirt right off before he reached out and gropes your chest with his thumbs rubbing along your nipples

"ah! hajim-"

"shut the fuck up, you nasty girl"

You felt a chill go down your spine while a feel of arousal hit you right in between your legs, he was definitely pissed off and that only made you more horny. You immediately reached for his bulge only to feel him slap your hand away before he leaned forward resting his hands at your hips while his tongue replaced his hands now trailing his tongue along your breasts but also being mindful of your new tattoo

"you thought you were so cute strolling in here and practially shoving your tits in my face knowing what I'll do, god you piss me so off when you act like a needy slut"

His voice was deep as he moved one of his hands to shove it down your pants now feeling your wet hole that begged for him to feel it, the slick feeling made him smirk as he trailed his lips down your stomach, he slipped your underwear to the side only to plunge two fingers deep into your wet cunt.

"why is the princess so wet, were you hoping to piss me off like this?"

"Mmmm..n-no.."

Iwaizumi now pumped his fingers faster in and out of as he watched your lustful expression as you squirmed around lightly. He simply pulled back only to hear your panicked and needy whines with a light scoff as he licked the juices off his fingers while watching you whine and babble about how you needed him.

Honestly he felt the exact same about you, he didn't have the time for foreplay or any of that like he usually did so it wasn't quick before he was throwing his clothes off and doing the same to you, his cock pressed against your wet cunt as he rubbed the piercings against your slick pussy.

All ten silver balls starting from the base with and ending just below the tip with just an inch of space in between each piercing got soaked in your juices which only fueled his lust more to the point where he just couldn't help but shove himself into you.

"fuck- how do you always stay so tight baby, we've been fucking almost every day and yet your cunt is still milking my cock like this"

As he pushed deeper he watched as you would shudder everytime his piercings rubbed against your inner walls, the sight of you enjoying that always made him chuckle.

"ah..you like my piercings? Yeah baby I love yours too, such sexy little things"

"h-hajime..please"

He wrapped a hand around your throat and added light pressed as he shoved his cock as deep it would go before glaring down at you, his cold eyes alone could make you cum but you knew why he was pissed off.

"you know what to call me princess, now say it"

"d-daddy-"

A single word was enough for him to start sloppily thrusting in and out of you with little to no mercy, he leaned down kissing and biting along your breasts but made sure to avoid touching your new tattoo though he did have the sadistic idea of cumming all over it but he figured he should wait til it was healed for him to do that

"ah daddy! P-please-"

"hmm? What do you want, babydoll? You're almost crying so badly you must need something good"

He glanced up at you as he pulled back now pulling your legs over his shoulder as he deeply thrusts into you with an unsteady breath.

"p-please fill me with your hot cum! I want to have your babies"

Now iwaizumi is normally not the type to go absolutely crazy during sex unless you pissed him off enough to engage in angry sex which has happened before but this, oh this was different and before he knew it he was ravaging your poor cunt giving you animalistic thrusts as he thought about your stomach swollen with his baby, that would prove that you are all his plus he did want kids with you.

"if that's what you fucking want baby, I'll pump a baby into you and get you pregnant, our baby. God you drive me so damn crazy you want me to breed you? Yeah you fucking do you naughty girl, be my little pregnant wife. "

Iwaizumi was now kissing your inner thigh as he roughly slammed his hips into you letting out a shaky breath as he felt you tighten against him, a feeling he knew all too well.

"is the little slut going to cum? Do it then baby. Coat this cock with your slutty pussy juice and scream out for daddy!"

"ah! Daddy- please please please-"

Iwaizumi couldn't help but chuckle at your crazy begging and sobbing, his eyes landing on your breasts bouncing with each rough thrust he gives you, those damn piercings would be the death of him.

As he felt his climax approaching he was now like a savage animal breaking you with his harsh thrusts and wrapping his hands around your neck starting to squeeze it but of course not too tightly but just enough for you to feel the rush if adrenaline.

"cum for me pretty girl! Cum for daddy like I know you want to!"

His demand and slamming into you one final time made you squirt all over the chair and his cock. The sight alone drove iwaizumi to his own climax now filling you up and watching as your body twitched and shook under him.

As you both started to come down from your highs he just realized how messed up the chair was, from the sweat and cum to the claw marks gifted from you during this little session.

A wave of annoyance hit him as he glared at you with a light scowl, damn you! He couldn't really stay mad for long and he simply pulled out before kissing the top of your head.

"oi, get dressed we are going home alright?"

As he moved to get dressed he could hear a comment from you that made him pause and feel his cock harden all over again.

"i-i should get my clit pierced, yeah hajime?"

Okay so maybe another round wouldn't kill you both, after all shop was closed and you two had all the time in the world.

#hajime iwaizumi #haikyuu smut #haikyuu imagines

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hermits-that-craft · 4 years

Text

This Is Home - Nonbinary Iskall

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25972159

*Laughs in agender* it’s projection time

Iskall stares into the mirror, trying to work out what’s wrong. He doesn’t understand it. Something feels wrong, and he can’t work it out. Tears well up in his eyes, threatening to fall out even as he tries to blink them away.

His hair hits his shoulders now.

Everyone says it looks nice, Stress will braid it absentmindedly if he sits down in hermit meetings, no one pokes fun at his hair. No one pokes fun at him, most of the hermits even saying that he looks really nice with it. Iskall runs his hands through it, wondering why it feels so wrong , so unnatural . He thought he liked it!

Maybe it’s too short.

---

"Your hair is looking nice today my dude!" Ren says from the doorway of The Omega Store, watching as Iskall restocks. Something eats away at Iskall's stomach, confusing him. The same thing that makes him feel bad looking in a mirror is here .

"Thank you!" Iskall tries to smile, trying to ignore the chaotic dread growing in his gut.

"You should grow it longer, it suits you!" Ren pats Iskall on the back. "Be the first man in hermitcraft with middle of the back long hair!"

Man . That's not right. Why is that not right?

---

Iskall stares at the computer screen, reading over the words. Transgender. Euphoria. Dysphoria. The words wash over Iskall. The words make sense, the words fit him - her? - situation.

She.

Iskall will try she .

---

Iskall lets her hair grow out, subtly asking Stress for help. She came out to Stress soon after, when Stress offered to cut her hair.

Stress was lovely, accepting her. So was Grian, and Mumbo. Scar too, jokingly saying that Iskall started in the body Scar should have started in.

She doesn't tell anyone else, and the jungle hermits keep their lips locked.

---

Iskall stares in the mirror, wondering why she still has dysphoria, why isn't it stopping? She thought she had it figured out.

She collapses to the floor, tears jerking out of her eyes. It isn't fair.

---

“Your hair looks nice today.” Cub says, sitting next to Iskall as the hermits slowly show up for the weekly meeting. “It’s getting pretty long, since you can put it into a bun.”

“Yeah.” Iskall looks towards the middle of the room, panic in her brain. She isn’t a girl. She isn't a boy. None of this makes sense .

Stress thinks she should come out at the meeting today.

She can’t. She cant come out, not when she doesn’t know who she is. Not when none of this makes sense . Stress sends her a thumbs up from across the room, and fear settles in her heart, digging and clawing its way into her veins. This isn’t right .

Iskall can’t hear Xisuma speak. Her - no, her isn’t right. Why aren't any of them right? They is nice, but no one will respect that. He, she, those are singular. The hermits would -

“Iskall, you wanted to say something?” Xisuma says quietly, and Iskall’s head snaps up. Everyone is looking at them, and they can’t speak, they can’t think , it hurts . None of the hermits have any eyes, it’s too bright theres too many colours here. They stand, nervousness eating at their throat.

And they run.

They can’t think, it hurts too much. There’s too much here. They can’t think , it’s too much. They run, then they fall off something and they fly. They can’t even tell what dimension they’re in, everything merges together and they can hardly see let alone think about where they are.

They crash land into the side of something, curling up into a ball where they land. It hurts . It hurts, their entire side blooming in pain. They never should have gone to the meeting, they never should have told anyone that they thought they were a girl. They aren’t a girl! They aren’t a boy! They just are .

---

They sit in Doc’s bathroom, a pair of scissors in their hands. Doc found them, shivering and bruised, on top of the Goat Mother after they flew off. Doc didn’t ask anything, didn’t judge them as they were brought into his half of the mansion, just letting them rest and heal. They stared at the ceiling of the room, tears in their eyes. They don’t want to fall asleep, not yet.

Doc didn’t ask why they left. Doc didn’t judge, just handing them a pair of scissors when they asked for them.

They bring the scissors to their hair, taking a deep breath in. They start cutting, tearing unevenly through their hair as they struggle to reach the back of their head. They don’t stop, not until the tears block their vision and their hand shakes too much to continue. They collapse to the floor, holding onto the sink as they try to stop crying.

Doc runs in, shock on his face as he sees Iskall kneeling on the floor, sobbing into the side of the sink. Doc helps Iskall up, helping them to a seat outside the bathroom.

“Is it your side?” Doc asks quietly, kneeling by their side.

“I’m not a boy.” Iskall blurts out, tears in their eyes. “I’m not a girl either, I can’t keep pretending , Doc.”

“Okay.” Doc says, smiling at them. “That’s, that’s amazing. They/them?”

“ Yes .” Iskall sobs, pulling Doc into a hug. “Thank you.”

“Does Stre- Anyone else know?”

“No.”

“That’s alright. You don’t have to tell them if you aren’t ready.”

---

Iskall stayed with Doc for a few days, ignoring the hermits and building small redstone circuits under Doc’s back garden. They don’t speak that much, getting used to their pronouns. To hear them said. It’s nice. They don’t want to leave. It’s safe, working under the garden as Doc plants bushes and flowers.

“The others are worried about you.” Doc calls down into the hole that Iskall is sitting in, trying to invent a better redstone circuit. “You need to tell them that you’re okay, even if it’s just in the group chat. I think they might raid if you don’t.”

They don’t want to. They don’t want to see the rejection in the others eyes. They haven’t even worked out what they are, though Doc suggested ‘Nonbinary’ and ‘Agender’. The first one fits like an oversized sweater, comforting and large. The second one fits better, though Iskall doesn’t know if they’ll use it. The agender flag is nice though.

“You don’t have to, I could send a picture to the group chat, but I think Xisuma will come around anyways.” Doc slides down the ladder, walking over to them. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“You sound like a Dad.”

“I’ll call you kid later,” Doc smirks, messing with Iskall’s hair, “or kiddo.”

---

Iskall hides behind a wall, trying to ignore the fear in their chest as Xisuma, Stress, Grian and Mumbo talk to Doc. They can’t breathe, not as the small group exchanges pleasantries and small talk, clearly waiting for them. They can hear someone tap their foot impatiently, either Grian or Stress, and they try to stand, to leave the wall and face the facts.

“Is sh- Is Iskall alright?” Stress’ voice is harsh, and Iskall can’t help but to flinch away. “You said that Iskall was alright, why isn’t sh-”

“I said that they’re fine.” Doc interrupts her, and Iskall can hear the eye roll. “You petrified Iskall, no wonder they’re having trouble coming out here. You can’t force someone out, Stress.”

“What?” Xisuma says, and Iskall ducks their head around the door. Xisuma is looking at Stress, who has her hands in the air. Doc has his back to the door, though he’s clearly looking at Grian. Mumbo makes eye contact with Iskall, sending them a little wave and a questioning look.

“Doc, may I use your restroom for a second?” Mumbo asks politely, a smile under his mustache.

“Go ahead.” Doc waves off the tall redstoner, who dips behind the door, offering a hand to Iskall.

“You alright?” Mumbo mumbles.

“I’m scared.”

“Don’t be. We all love you, ‘Skall. You don’t have to be afraid.”

“I don’t think I’m a girl or a boy, Mumbo.”

“Then you’re just Iskall, unless that's not the name you want. You are you. We won’t stop supporting you because of something as simple as that .”

---

“You’re looking nice today my friend!” Ren says as Iskall restocks the Omega Store. “I like the little braids in your hair, did you do them or someone else?”

“I did them, it makes me feel nice.” Iskall smiles, a warm feeling in their chest.

Why did they think the hermits wouldn’t accept them?

They’re family.

#iskall85 #oneshot

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ineffable-writer · 4 years

Text

Not a woman.

I have some really awesome IRL stuff going on and people keep posting really nice stuff on my Facebook that misgenders me pretty strongly. I’ve been called an “incredible woman” like eight times today.

I’m not a woman.

Women are amazing. I love women. I love all the amazing things women do, I love how strong women are, I love everything about women! But I’m not a woman.

I identify they/them for a lot of reasons, partially because I have girly moods sometimes (fuckin LOVE nail polish) and mostly because as a writer I really like the plurality of it but it hit me today that I don’t really have the same strong “this is NOT ME” reaction when someone calls me a man. I get annoyed by it but it’s not the same gut reaction. Like if I’m honest with myself I would be so much more comfortable with a male body than a female one.

(I just... don’t want to go on T and lose my hair. Is that vain? It’s vain. I have amazing hair but it’s my dad’s hair and he’s so bald.)

And I don’t want to lose my mom, who would see me so differently if I transitioned even partially. Right now we’re casually affectionate--lots of hugs, shoulder-leaning--and I know if I transitioned she just... wouldn’t touch me anymore. I wouldn’t be able to go over to her place and take a nap in her bed while she made dinner. She wouldn’t play with my hair.

(My dad too. Although I haven’t seen him in over a year for Covid reasons, so that’s not as close to home.)

Which is so fucking stupid. And really, really disgusting in some ways I don’t want to think about.

Fuck.

I don’t want to transition. I want to snap my fingers and have the body I want to have and that’s it. I don’t want to have to deal with top surgery and hormones. I’m going to have to deal with hormones no matter what (yay PCOS) but I don’t want to. I really don’t want to lose my hair. I like my hair. I’ve got amazing hair.

And I know when the dysphoria passes I’ll breathe and convince myself I’m fine just dressing androgynous and using they/them pronouns and yeah, it’s fine, no big deal. I’ll convince myself I’m pan NB and leave it at that and totally won’t keep looking longingly at the gay male community and convince myself it’s fine, I’ll just look for bi guys, that’s always gone well in the past, and hide the fact that I’m more attracted to men because people call me straight even though honestly being attracted to women is the straightest part about me and

God

damn

I know what I want I just.

I hate it so much. I hate everything I’ll have to lose if I were to transition. I hate that people don’t see me for who I am even though I know I’m deliberately keeping myself hidden. I hate feeling like a fraud for being an incredible woman when I’m not a woman, deep in my gut I am not a woman and I don’t even know if I’ll publish this rant or delete it or what.

This is not coherent at all.

#slice of irl #dysphoria #felt gross may delete later #idk #trans

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casper-writes-stuff · 4 years

Text

The Black Cat Part Four

ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23247103/chapters/58845892

This took almost two months to write and I’m honestly so sorry for that but also like... It’s almost 2k words of platonic affection. Part four of my fic trade with @rose-gold-roman!!

General Taglist: @acanvasofabillionsuns, @emo-disaster, @greenninjagal-blog, @jungle321jungle, @sleepy-sides, @gattonero17, @another-sandersidesblog, @strawberryjellystuff, @remusownsmyuwus, @logic-with-a-pinch-of-deceit, @gr3ml1n-loser, @main-chive, @kiribakuandcats, @firey-alex, @orca-iguana, @spooky-scary-virgil, @sanderssidesweirdo, @stormypaint, @just-a-little-bit-gay-oops, @dying-is-a-hobby

TBC Taglist: @daring-elm

Waking up to the sun in his face sent a jolt of panic through Patton. There was still school to go to, and the sudden shouldn’t be out when he had to get up.

“Oh, crud!” he cursed, shooting out of his bed and cringing when he looked down at himself.

He didn’t have time to get changed, he’d have to go to school without a binder today. Gosh this was going to suck with his dysphoria, but he was late and he had to get out of the house.

A thought struck him, and Patton looked at his bed, and then under it, and then other places around his room. The window was still closed too, and Patton let out a noise of confusion because if that were the case, how did Salem get out?

Patton’s text tone went off, and he remembered he was supposed to be getting ready dang it! He’d worry about Salem when he wasn’t at risk for detention or his sister getting mad at him!

It was a rush to get ready, and since his sister had already left for the college he was going to have to walk to the school. Heck, he was going to miss so much of his classes.

He pulled out his phone, wincing when he saw it was approaching nine. Missed all of the first period already. Logan might be able to pick him up though? Now was his free period and he usually drove to school.

Decision made, Patton pulled up his text conversation with Logan and hit call, putting his phone on speaker while he struggled to get pants on.

“Patton? Where are you, it’s unlike you to miss school without warning us before it even starts.”

He winced, then let out a yelp when he nearly tripped.

“Are you alright?” Logan asked, clear worry in his tone as Patton sighed.

“Yep! Trying to get my pants on. Will you come pick me up? Morgan’s at college and if I call her-”

“Ah, the dragon witch, yes of course Patton, I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

The amount of affection and gratefulness he felt for Logan in that moment nearly overwhelmed Patton to the point of crying.

“Thanks Lo! See you in ten!”

Before Logan could respond, Patton tapped the end call on his phone and finished buttoning up his jeans before he shoved his phone in his pocket.

With a sigh and a frown at his dresser drawer, Patton grabbed his backpack and then made his way to the bathroom to fix his bed-head. The brush caught a couple times in his curly hair, and he hissed in pain (the sound bringing his mind back to Salem for a moment) before he decided the mess was tamed enough.

Patton was at the top of the stairs when he heard the TV on and felt his heart sink into his stomach.

Was his sister home? She had class today, why the heck would she be home?

Making his way downstairs, Patton did his best to creep as quietly as possible. As soon as he was able he peeked around the corner of the wall to see Morgan passed out on the couch, arm thrown over her eyes and mouth hanging open.

There was drool on her mouth, she was still asleep. He’d have to skip breakfast if he wanted to get passed her without waking her up.

His stomach growled in protest at the thought and Patton winced. That’s right… he’d skipped dinner last night too.

With a deep breath, Patton shook off his hunger and tiptoed through the living room. He kept his eyes either on the couch or the door, straining hard to make sure she didn’t wake up until he had his shoes in hand and was out the door.

Sighing in relief, Patton sat on the concrete step and shoved his feet in his shoes, glancing up every few seconds to watch for Logan.

Hearing Logan’s truck pull up made his heart leap into his throat, and he rushed to get in so they could leave faster.

“You’re rushing,” Logan commented while Patton pulled his seatbelt over his chest, wincing at the way it nestled against his chest and making his breasts way more pronounced than he wanted.

“Yeah, Morgan over slept too apparently,” he responded, looking up to eye the door and windows while Logan shifted gears.

“Your sister is infuriatingly hypocritical.”

Patton sagged when Logan finally pulled away and he didn’t see any signs of his sister having woken up.

“Not like I can do anything about it, Lo,” he said, pulling the seatbelt away from his chest and staring out the window while he played with it.

Logan hummed, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.

“My offer for you to stay with me still stands.”

Shaking his head, Patton sighed and let go of the seat belt. He didn’t answer verbally though, not really having the energy to fight with Logan about why he didn’t want to do that.

Silence filled the truck, and Patton settled in to deal with how awkward he felt by pulling on the seatbelt intermittently until Logan pulled into the school parking lot.

Patton didn’t really want to go inside. Didn’t really want to deal with feeling like everyone was going to be staring at his chest.

“If you’d turn around, Patton, you’d see the sweatshirt I’m holding out to you,” Logan said, making Patton do as he narrated.

Holy heck that was a massive hoodie.

“Is that… Is that Teagan’s?” he asked, grabbing the navy fabric and holding it up.

“It was. I borrowed it when he moved out for college,” Logan said, unbuckling his seatbelt before turning off the truck and pulling his keys out of the ignition.

Patton looked at Logan, then raised an eyebrow.

“You stole it from him while he was packing, didn’t you?”

Logan cleared his throat, hiding the embarrassed tint of his cheeks by climbing out of the truck and making Patton giggle at his expense.

“He never used it, I just wanted to re-purpose it in case something like this happened.”

Patton felt his affection from earlier return, and he climbed out of the truck himself before pulling the hoodie over his head and breathing a sigh of relief at how it hung off his frame.

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks Lo, I really appreciate it. Where’s Roman? Doesn’t he have a free period this period too?”

Logan scowled, though it was probably because Roman said something stupid to irritate him again rather than actual anger at their friend, and pointed at the building by the stairs.

Following his finger, Patton grinned when he saw Roman sitting in the grass hidden by the shade. He started waving his arm over his head, but when that failed to get his friend’s attention he took off in his direction, trusting Logan to follow behind.

Roman didn’t notice him until he slid across the grass like a baseball player would to base, a yelp escaping him followed soon by groan and a giggle.

“Padre! You made it!” he exclaimed, earning a ‘shut up’ glare from Logan before he looked around to make sure there were no teachers around while Patton was supposed to be in class.

“I did!” Patton shouted just as loudly, making Logan rub the bridge of his nose between his thumb and pointer finger.

“You two are impossible. Patton, do you want to get in trouble?” he asked, sitting across from the two while Patton draped himself in Roman’s lap.

“No! We’re in love specs! Do you really want to break up our wonderful chemistry? Become a home wrecker? Are you really that cruel of a man?”

While Roman spoke, he wrapped his arms around Patton and maneuvered him until he was resting against his shoulder. All the while Patton giggled, resting a hand on Roman’s chest and doing his best to give Logan his best impression of a hurt look.

His laughter definitely ruined the effect, but based on the fact that Logan was struggling not to smile, Patton thought it hit home well enough.

“Insufferable, both of you. Patton you need to get to class, you can’t stay here the rest of the period.”

Patton let out a whine and sagged in Roman’s arms, letting out an ‘oof’ when he dropped him back into his lap.

Well, he’d been planning on complaining, but now he was giggling too hard to continue.

Roman seemed to have him covered though, because he pushed Patton off his lap and stood up with gusto to wrap an arm around Logan’s shoulders.

“We’re not skipping,” Logan spoke before Roman had a chance to say his piece, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh come on Lo! We need a break! School in Salida is stressful! One missed day won’t hurt us, consider it a mental health day!”

Patton lifted himself off the ground, shifting until he was sitting cross-legged in the grass as he looked up at Logan and Roman in consideration.

“I- That sounds really nice actually. Morgan-”

“Ugh, Dragon Bitch.”

“-only answers the phone when it’s one of her friends, so I shouldn’t get in trouble for it.”

Logan sighed, looking between the two for a moment before dropping his arms in defeat.

“Alright, fine. Mental health is just as important as physical, skipping it is.”

Roman let out a cheer, though Logan cut him off quickly by clamping his hand over his mouth. Patton started giggling again, getting up from the ground and grabbing his backpack that’d he’d flung off him so he could be dramatic in Roman’s lap.

“I’d ask if you were stupid, but you asked me what the capital of Paris was last week,” Logan hissed, looking at what they could see of the school doors to make sure a teacher wasn’t about to come out and ask what they were doing.

With a roll of his eyes, Roman pulled Logan’s hand off his mouth.

“Relax, specs. The only one here who has a class right now is Patton and he knows how to sweet talk his way out of being in trouble.”

Logan sighed again, rolling his eyes to the sky.

“I don’t have enough patience to deal with you.”

Roman grinned at him, tightening his grip on Logan’s shoulders before suddenly rubbing his knuckles over his hair and earning a yelp.

“We should go to the park! The one by the river so we can watch all the birds!”

Patton watched the two interact, giggles still occasionally bursting out of him.

He just hoped Salem wasn’t at the park today, considering that was the one he’d met him in.

#casper writes #ts patton #ts logan #ts roman #moxiety #future moxiety #shapeshifter au #trans male patton #platonic moralogince #platonic logicality #platonic royality #platonic logince #theyre so soft im !!!!!#i ended up having to split this chapter up into two parts #it was supposed to have the park scene too #but i wanna keep the chapter lengths consistent

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bpdanakins · 5 years

Text

Anakin Skywalker + Borderline Personality Disorder

Hello there!

My name’s Elizabeth, and I really love Anakin Skywalker. I also really love the headcanon of him having Borderline Personality Disorder, so today I’m going to explore that headcanon. I’ll be explaining both the illness and its symptoms in detail, so you don’t need prior knowledge of BPD to read.

Like all mental illnesses, BPD can be expressed in many different ways. I’ll do my best to explore the ways Anakin shows signs and symptoms of it, and I’ll use a bit of both my own experience and experiences others have shared. You may agree or disagree, it’s all good. This is just something for fun, and I hope you enjoy reading it.

To start, I should explain what Borderline Personality Disorder is first. In the words of the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI), Borderline Personality Disorder is defined as:

Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) is a condition characterized by difficulties regulating emotion. This means that people who experience BPD feel emotions intensely and for extended periods of time, and it is harder for them to return to a stable baseline after an emotionally triggering event.

This difficulty can lead to impulsivity, poor self-image, stormy relationships and intense emotional responses to stressors.

The symptoms of BPD as listed in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-5) reads as following:

** A pervasive pattern of instability of interpersonal relationships, self-image, and affects, and marked impulsivity, beginning by early adulthood and present in a variety of contexts, as indicated by five (or more) of the following:

Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment.

A pattern of unstable and intense interpersonal relationships characterized by alternating between extremes of idealization and devaluation.

Identity disturbance: markedly and persistently unstable self-image or sense of self.

Impulsivity in at least two areas that are potentially self-damaging (e.g. spending, sex, substance abuse, reckless driving, binge eating.)

Recurrent suicidal behaviour, gestures, or threats, or self-harming behaviour.

Affective instability due to a marked reactivity of mood (e.g., intense episodic dysphoria, irritability, or anxiety usually lasting a few hours and only rarely more than a few days).

Chronic feelings of emptiness.

Inappropriate, intense anger or difficulty controlling anger (e.g., frequent displays of temper, constant anger, recurring physical fights).

Transient, stress-related paranoid ideation or severe dissociative symptoms.

Alright, now that we have a basic understanding of the illness, I’ll move on to breaking down these symptoms and how they relate or show in Anakin with examples. I’ll be categorizing them as done in this article for ease of reading: Affective symptoms (covering criterion 6, 7 and 8), Impulsive symptoms (criterion 4 and 5), Interpersonal symptoms (criterion 1, 2, and 3) and Cognitive symptoms (criterion 9).

Affective Symptoms Affective symptoms is the category which covers the emotional dysregulation shown in BPD (intense moods, depression, anger and chronic feelings of emptiness). Those with BPD have difficulty controlling the range and intensity of their emotional responses; their emotions are incredibly unstable, changing moods often - sometimes within minutes.

In my experience, having BPD is like having a constant storm going on in your head, drowning out so many different things while highlighting all the wrong ones. Emotions can slam into you, so suddenly without warning or reason, so overwhelming that you can’t even think. That emotion is all there is. And then, just as suddenly, it recedes, leaving you feeling empty, or is replaced by another.

There are many, many examples of moments where Anakin’s emotions seem to change within moments. It is most prevalent with anger, especially since he has used it since a child as a way to cope with fear or other distressing situations and emotions.

Anakin was on top of him so fast the bigger being barely had time to put up his arms in defense before he was on the ground. Anakin was hitting him as hard and fast as he could, not thinking about anything but how angry he was, not even aware that the source of his anger had nothing to do with his victim and everything to do with losing Padmé. -- The Phantom Menace novelization

It is worth to note, too, that often the expressions of anger noticed in Borderlines stems from fear, panic, hopelessness, and desperation.

Borderlines are extremely sensitive to outside stimuli, meaning that a lot of the mood changes are in response to external events; particularly perceived rejection, failure or abandonment, although not always.

We know, as many characters have pointed out, Anakin focuses on the negative. Borderlines tend to be hypersensitive to the emotions of others, but often we’re more likely to notice negative emotions, rather than positive ones. This often results in us being more vulnerable in the face of criticism, and what would cause slight embarrassment for another may cause deep humiliation for us.

After this iconic first attempt at flirting, and Padmé’s subsequent teasing remark [“You’ll always be that little boy I knew on Tatooine.”], Anakin’s reaction is explained thus in the novel: “And if she had taken his lightsaber from his belt and sliced his legs out from under him, she would not have shortened Anakin Skywalker more.”

(Another note on his attention to negativity is that he missed her widened smile, or the clear implications of it, too caught up in the idealized experience of being in her presence.)

However, while it is more common for a Borderline to swing toward the negative, this is not always the case! We feel all emotions to a higher degree, and this includes happiness, excitement, and other positive emotions. Anakin shows this too, mostly in response to things like approval, or love:

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s voice had gone soft, and his hand was warm on Anakin’s arm. “There is no other Jedi I would rather have at my side right now. No other man.” Anakin turned, and found within Obi-Wan’s eyes a depth of feeling he had only rarely glimpsed in all their years together; and the pure uncomplicated love that rose up within him then felt like a promise from the Force itself.

This is how it feels to be Anakin Skywalker, for now: The Supreme Chancellor returns your look with a hint of smile and a sliver of an approving nod, and for you, this tiny, trivial, comradely victory sparks a warmth and ease that relaxes the dragon-grip of dread on your heart. -- Revenge of the Sith novelization

(Also look at this face he makes when Obi-Wan says he’s proud of him help me it’s so cute.)

We have an example of all three (anger to perceived criticism and disapproval, heightened emotions to approval, jealousy and playfulness all fluctuating quickly):

Padmé moved back to arm’s length and managed a smile as she looked over to Anakin. “Then my Jedi protector will have to prove how good he is.” Dormé gave a nervous chuckle and wiped a tear from her eye as she smiled and nodded. Off to the side, Anakin held his smile within, deciding consciously to wear a posture that exuded confidence and control. But inside he was thrilled to hear Padmé’s compliments coming his way. Obi-Wan shattered that warmth, pulling the young Padawan off to the side. “You stay on Naboo,” Obi-Wan said. “Don’t attract attention. Do absolutely nothing without checking in with me or the Council.” “Yes, Master,” Anakin answered obediently, but inside, he was churning, wanting to lash out at Obi-Wan. Do nothing, absolutely nothing, without checking in, without asking for permission? Hadn’t he earned a bit more respect than that? Hadn’t he proven a bit more resourceful, a Padawan to be trusted? “I will get to the bottom of this plot quickly, M’Lady,” he heard Obi-Wan say to Padmé. Anakin seethed inwardly. Hadn’t that been exactly the course he had suggested to his Master when they had first been assigned to watch over the Senator? “You’ll be back here in no time,” Obi-Wan assured her. “I will be most grateful for your speed, Master Jedi.” Anakin didn’t appreciate hearing Padmé speak of any gratitude at all toward Obi-Wan. At least, he didn’t want Padmé to elevate Obi-Wan’s importance in all this above his own. “Time to go,” he said, striding forward. [...] “Suddenly I’m afraid,” Padmé said to him as they walked away, heading toward the giant star freighter that would take them to Naboo. Behind the pair, R2-D2 rolled along, tootling cheerily. “This is my first assignment on my own. I am, too.” Anakin turned about, taking Padmé’s gaze with his own, and grinned widely. “But don’t worry. We’ve got Artoo with us!” Again, the levity was much needed. -- Attack of the Clones novelization

Most of the events that take place on Grievous’ ship in Revenge of the Sith, both the movie and the novelization, are a great example of Anakin’s inability for emotional modulation (i.e. the ability to control the intensity of emotions) and his emotional dysregulation. He experiences joy when joking with Obi-Wan, later fear which he turns to fury during his fight with Dooku, dissociates (as I will show below) when he executes him, and then happiness when teasing Obi-Wan and having approval from Palpatine.

Impulsive Symptoms There are many times in media and society that being impulsive is seen as a good thing. Spontaneity is a thrilling and exciting trait, and someone who has it is framed as a fun person to be around.

However, in mental illness, impulses are often uncontrollable and detrimental to the health and safety of the self or of others. In BPD, it is described as reckless and self-damaging.

Many in the fandom see Anakin as a reckless and impulsive person. It’s framed in a good light; it means he thinks “outside the box”, is unconventional but gets things done and saves the day anyways. And it is true, he is those things and he often does so to help others. Plus, we have to take into consideration that the Force plays a role too. What is considered almost automatically harmful recklessness to us may not be for someone with the Force.

The line that must be drawn, then, is all about intent and motive. Is he doing this because he wants to hurt himself, or because he does not care if it harms him as a result? Without knowing his internal thoughts on the matter, or without being shown the actions as carelessness combined with negative emotions, it can be pretty tough to nail down.

So, we can perhaps infer if something Anakin does might follow in the lines of suicidal/self-injurous behaviour, but given the nature of what the shows/movies/books are (aka, not meant to be THAT dark, despite, you know, burning people and dead children, I guess), we don’t really have much to go on.

One easy example, however, is shown through the lens of parasuicide.

PARASUICIDE Parasuicide is a term for behaviour that includes both actual suicide attempts and self-injuries with little or no intent to cause death. Take, for example, an individual engaging in reckless driving: they could be doing it for the rush, in hopes it drowns out their overwhelming negative emotions, and while their intent at the time is not on crashing and dying, they might not care if it happens.

Cannonfire blazed past him, impacting on the support struts ahead. Too late to change his mind now: he was committed. He would bring his ship through, or he would die. Right now, strangely, he didn’t actually care which. -- Revenge of the Sith novelization

Interpersonal Symptoms One of the most commonly recognized symptoms of BPD are those that affect our interpersonal relationships. The fear of abandonment, the black-and-white thinking, the lack of a true identity: these are symptoms you are most likely to hear discussed first when looking into BPD or talking to someone about it.

These three criteria are all very intertwined, and they often feed or lean into each other. But most importantly, these are the symptoms that tend to come with a lot of terminology used specifically in Borderline circles.

SPLITTING What is splitting? Splitting is the term we use for the moments we switch from idealization to devaluation, or vice versa. Borderlines tend to think in black and white with no shades of gray; either people are all good, or all bad. When we “split”, it is a change in that opinion or worldview from one to the other.

In other words, one could say...

Splitting can be caused by all sorts of things, such as someone not living up to the ideal or triggering the fear of abandonment.

Splitting is often associated with opinions of others, but Borderlines can split on their views of themselves, objects, things, beliefs or even organizations (like, say, the Jedi Order).

Anakin’s splitting is often shown in his relationship with Obi-Wan. He sees him as a great hero, the greatest Jedi ever - as wise as Master Yoda and as powerful as Master Windu. (There’s also this.) He can wax poetic about how Obi-Wan is his best friend, a great mentor, that Anakin loves him...

Yet, even in the same conversation, or even within only days, he talks about Obi-Wan being jealous, overly critical, holding him back, saying it’s his fault that Anakin’s struggling. He can be joking with him in an elevator one moment, to seething the next when Obi-Wan expresses disapproval or disappointment. (Essentially AotC Anakin is splitting on Obi-Wan the whole time.)

Anakin can go on about how he loves Obi-Wan, that he wouldn’t have it any other way than to be fighting at his side, and then easily switch to saying that he cannot be trusted, to saying I hate you. And when he says and thinks these things, he means them. Why is it that Anakin can seemingly forget the soft, genuine moments he’s had with Obi-Wan within hours, to the point his entire view on who Obi-Wan is can change?

RELATIONSHIP OBJECT PERMANENCE Object permanence is a skill we all learn when we are mere infants. To put it simply, it is the realization that just because we cannot see or sense something anymore, does not mean it no longer exists. It’s why babies cry when someone leaves the room; they do not realize that things can exist even when not right in front of them.

In turn, relationship object permanence is the knowledge that a relationship, and all the good feelings that come with it, exists even when that relationship is not being constantly affirmed. (i.e. If you do not tell me you care for me, how can I know?) This skill is one Borderlines tend to lack, which is why we have such fears of abandonment, even when it’s irrational.

A simple example of this in Anakin is that he shares that Soft moment with Obi-Wan mentioned above - the one about the pure, uncomplicated love - only to later that night tell Padmé:

“Maybe he does [love me]. But I don’t think he trusts me.” His eyes went as bleak as the empty night. “And I’m not sure we can trust him.”

In the moment, Anakin does not doubt Obi-Wan’s feelings. Later, when he is full of fear, when he is so focused on Padmé and their child, he doubts Obi-Wan’s loyalties, let alone how much he cares.

On the flipside, Anakin idealizes Padmé. A lot. To the point he has, in a way, built part of his identity around her. Borderlines tend to lack a solid sense of self, and sometimes an expression of this identity disturbance revolves around defining oneself by their relationships; losing these, in turn, results in a sense that everything is meaningless and empty.

Since he was a child, Anakin saw Padmé in a grand light: she was an angel, beautiful and perfect, and he just knew he was gonna marry her. Since that moment, he has not ever dismantled or even noticed that pedestal he has placed her upon.

For years, he clung to the idea that he would be her husband, and this turned into, in his mind, a simple fact of his life. A piece of him that he could be sure about. He knows he is not what a Jedi should be; he is called the Hero With No Fear, which he knows is so inaccurate; they’re losing the war... but he has Padmé, and he cannot lose her.

“The Hero With No Fear. What a joke... Padmé, I can’t lose you. I can’t. You’re all I live for.”

“I couldn’t wait, Padmé. I had to see you.” He took her in his arms. “Tonight is forever from now - how am I supposed to live that long without you?” -- Revenge of the Sith novelization

Another of the hallmark symptoms of BPD is the frantic efforts to avoid abandonment, whether real or imagined. Borderlines often find it extremely hard to let go of relationships, and will do much in an effort to keep others from leaving.

Losing people he loves is the source of Anakin’s greatest fears.

But Anakin’s fear is another kind of dragon. A cold kind. A dead kind. [...] The dragon reminds him, every night, that someday he will lose Obi-Wan. He will lose Padmé. Or they will lose him. All things die, Anakin Skywalker. Even the stars burn out... He can barely even think about it. -- Revenge of the Sith novelization

Now, I have it on good authority that most Borderlines don’t end up going Dark Side and committing massacres to avoid someone they love leaving them, but Anakin likes to stand out.

Cognitive Symptoms These are the symptoms that relate to dissociation, paranoia, hallucinations, delusions, and other troubling but non-psychotic symptoms.

DISSOCIATION Dissociation is a psychological experience in which people feel disconnected from their sensory experience, sense of self, or personal history. It is usually experienced as a feeling of intense alienation or unreality, in which the person suddenly loses their sense of where they are, who they are, of what they are doing. (x) For Borderlines, the most common forms of dissociation experienced are derealization and depersonalization.

DEPERSONALIZATION is defined as a detachment within the self, regarding one’s mind or body, or being a detached observer of oneself. Symptoms include: feeling that you’re an outside observer of your thoughts, feelings, or your body; emotional or physical numbness of your senses or responses to the world around you; a sense that your memories lack emotion, and that they may not be your own memories, and more.

DEREALIZATION is defined as an alteration in the perception or experience of the external world so that it seems unreal. Symptoms include: feelings of being alienated from or unfamiliar with your surroundings - as if you’re living in a movie or dream; feeling emotionally disconnected from people you care about; distortions in perception of time, such as recent events feeling like distant past, and more.

For some, dissociation can often be the mind’s way of trying to protect itself from traumatic events or actions; sometimes even in response to extreme emotions. An easy example to observe is after Shmi’s death in Attack of the Clones - Hayden’s reaction can very easily be read as someone who is immediately trying to disconnect (emotionally, mentally) to this sudden trauma.

It’s expounded upon in its novelization as well:

The minutes slipped past and Anakin just sat there, immobilized by his confusion, by a budding rage and the most profound sense of emptiness he had ever known. Only when the pale light began to grow around him, making the low-burning candles seem even thinner, did he even remember where he was. He looked about, wondering how he might get his mother’s body out of there. [...] He could hardly move, though. There seemed a profound pointlessness to it all, a series of motions without meaning.

We also often have Anakin describing moments as if they were ‘a dream’, as if these things weren’t a part of him, but here are two good examples from the RotS novel:

The murderer blinked again. Who am I? Was he the slave boy on a desert planet, valued for his astonishing gift with machines? Was he the legendary Podracer, the only human to survive that deadly sport? Was he the unruly, high-spirited, trouble-prone student of a great Jedi Master? The star pilot? The hero? The lover? The Jedi? [...] The deck bucked as the cruiser absorbed a new barrage of torpedoes and turbolaser fire. Dooku’s severed head bounced along the deck and rolled away, and Anakin woke up.

In the Tusken camp he had lost his mind. [...] The Tuskens has been killed, slaughtered, massacred - but that has been beyond his control, and now it seemed to him as if it had been done by someone else: like a story he heard that had little to do with him at all.

PARANOID THOUGHTS Paranoia involves intense anxious or fearful feelings and thoughts often related to persecution, threat, or conspiracy. Paranoia can become delusions, when irrational thoughts and beliefs become so fixed that nothing (including contrary evidence) can convince a person that what they think or feel is not true. (x)

Signs of paranoia include intense, irrational mistrust or suspicion, which can bring on a sense of fear, anger and betrayal. Some symptoms include mistrust, hypervigilance, difficulty with forgiveness, a defensive attitude in response to imagined criticism, preoccupation with hidden motives, fear of being deceived or taken advantage of, inability to relax or being argumentative.

Within Borderlines, this ideation is described as transient and stress-related, meaning it often only lasts a short time and is brought on by a high level of stress.

Anakin experiences many bouts of paranoia over his life, often manifesting in his (sort of) delusion that Padmé is in grave danger, that he must do anything to protect her from it; in the thoughts that the Jedi mistrust him, are out to get him because of jealousy or other reasons; that even Obi-Wan cannot be trusted; and even, at times, that Padmé will stop loving him and leave him.

He knew, deep in his guts, that something had happened to her. An accident, or she was sick, or she’d been caught in one of the vast number of buildings hit by debris from the battle today... She might be trapped somewhere right now, might be wounded, might be smothering, calling out his name, might be feeling the approach of flames- [...] He could barely breathe. He couldn’t make himself even think it. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking it. Had something changed? For her? In how she felt?

“Is Master Windu turning everyone against me? [...] It has to do with them all being against me. They always have been - most of them didn’t even want me to be a Jedi.” -- Revenge of the Sith novelization

His biggest triggers for these episodes are often related to his prophetic nightmares, but also in any reminder or flashback of his trauma and fear of losing the people he loves.

---

Conclusion Anakin Skywalker is a fascinating and complex character for so many reasons, and many people are intrigued by his story because of it. Many of those are people who also have neurodivergencies or other disabilities, and that’s why - even if these headcanons are simply that, and probably won’t ever be verified - sharing with each other the ways we see ourselves in characters is both important, but also fun.

Whether you can see this headcanon for Anakin, have one for a similar/co-morbid disorder (such as mood disorders, PTSD, ADHD, etc), or none of the above, I hope you at least enjoyed the read. It was certainly pretty text heavy, so I thank you for getting this far.

If you enjoyed this and have your own thoughts, feel free to share! I’d love to chat if you have any questions, want to make fun of this Literal Human Disaster(tm), or if you have your own headcanons you want to talk about.

I certainly have many more thoughts on this - how it could relate to his decisions/actions, more examples (especially since I only used the bare minimum), more BPD behaviours, even theories about how maybe the Force could have played into it, etc. Hopefully I’ll get better at writing these out if I ever get around to sharing them.

Ultimately though, at the end of the day, we all just want to have fun, and bond over stories that mean a lot to us one way or another. Thank you again for your time; it means a lot.

---

SOURCES:

Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace dir. George Lucas. Lucasfilm Ltd, 1999 novelization by Terry Brooks

Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones dir. George Lucas. Lucasfilm Ltd, 2002 novelization by R.A. Salvatore

Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith dir. George Lucas. Lucasfilm Ltd, 2005 novelization by Matthew Stover

Borderline Personality Disorder National Alliance on Mental Illness

Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fifth Edition, 2013 American Psychiatric Association

Diagnosing Borderline Personality Disorder by Robert S. Biskin, MD & Joel Paris, MD National Center for Biotechnology Information

Dissociation and Dissociative Disorders Mental Health America

Paranoia and Delusional Disorders Mental Health America

Cognitive-Behavioral Treatment of Borderline Personality Disorder by Marsha M. Linehan

My own personal experiences

FURTHER READING:

shitborderlinesdo on tumblr has an extensive FAQ (p1, p2) which you may find useful, although most of the posts are from about four years ago

anything by Marsha M. Linehan is useful, especially her book listed above (download)

the NCBI site has a lot of good articles with even better citations, and the citations can be read through sci-hub.

#star wars #anakin skywalker #actuallybpd #actuallyborderline #star wars headcanons #mental illness headcanons #bpd headcanon #borderline anakin skywalker #anakin headcanons #star wars meta #this took me a long while #anyways! tldr anakin skywalker has borderline personality disorder thank you for coming to my ted talk

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headfullofstories · 4 years

Text

Truly Monstrous Luck - part 2

I wake up in a new room, and the first thing I notice is that my binder is off. Fuck. I bolt upright and bring my arms up to cover my chest. Oh no, oh no no no no no. If someone had to take it off of me, then… someone saw my body. I throw up a little bit in my mouth at the thought.

I look around the room I'm in. I'm on a cot, and… oh god, there're my tits. I curl my knees up to block them from sight, and continue to survey my surroundings. The room as a few more cots scattered about, most of them empty. There's a desk at the end of the room, currently occupied by a girl who looks a little older than me, skin the color of volcanic glass - a sort of deep blackish purple, covered in white freckles that look like stars. Her lavender hair is tied up into a bun, and she's wearing a denim jacket. Fuck, she's pretty.

She looks up at me suddenly, corneas jet black and irises a startling silver. If I was still alive I’d probably have a ridiculous blush all across my face right now.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” She lets out a sigh of relief. “Yvonne was freaking out when you collapsed, thought she pushed you too hard with that walk, which was… kind of the case, but c’mon dude, you had to know this was gonna happen if you kept this thing on.” She holds up my ratty old Underworks binder, stretched and worn from years of constant use. I’m not quite sure the last time I took that thing off, whether it was last night or the day before, but my ribs are sore as hell now.

“There’s a recommended maximum time to wear these for a reason, y’know.” She sighs, dropping it onto the desk and picking up a walkie talkie. “Yvonne?” She asks into the radio, “your kid’s awake.”

A few moments later Yvonne runs through the doorway at the far side of the room near the desk, looks around the room for a moment and sees me.

“Oh thank god.” She sighs, walking up to me. “Camilla said it was probably nothing to worry about, but… I didn’t wanna cause you more grief today.”

“You gonna adopt every single fledgling you find, Yvonne?” The girl at the desk grumbles, looking down at her phone. “That’s… five now, right? Over the past 15 years? You should introduce New Kid to the others.”

“Well, none of my other 4 have left, which is a lot more than can be said for a lot of people here.” Yvonne reasons, before turning back to me. “I’m sorry that we had to take the binder off, Victor, but you’re not supposed to sleep with it on. Or do strenuous activity, which is on me, but you really should follow the doctor’s recommendations on these things.”

“I know, but… it’s… too much, sometimes, not to wear it.” I reply cautiously, doing my best to use the right words. “I get sensory overload really easily, and looking at my body makes it… a lot worse, most of the time. Being on T has helped with a lot of the visual dysphoria, but until I get surgery I’m gonna risk it with the long hours.”

The girl at the desk grumbles something under her breath, then picks up her walkie talkie again and mutters something into the speaker. Yvonne looks saddened by this and mutters something about the healthcare system in this country, but doesn’t object outright. After a few minutes Arthur walks into the room, exchanges a few brief words with the girl at the desk, then walks over to me and stands next to where Yvonne is sitting. He sighs and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment.

“Hey kid, what are your thoughts on top surgery?” He asks, sounding a little fed up. “Because what happened today can’t happen again, and if you fuck up your ribs there’s only so much vampiric healing can fix, and you’re gonna have a bitch of an afterlife.”

My vision goes double for a moment as I try to process what I just heard. “T-top surgery?”

“We have contacts at this practice out on Long Island, some people who are… specially equipped to handle people like us.” He elaborates, “We’ll cover all of the medical expenses, so you won’t have to worry about selling your fucking soul to the american healthcare system.”

Against my better judgement, I start sobbing. Arthur looks confused and Yvonne looks worried.

“Hey kid, you good?” Arthur inquires cautiously.

“I'm really sorry,” I manage to blubber out between hiccups, “but… th-that’s the closest thing to good news I’ve had in m-m-months.”

He nods. “I had bad luck when I was your age, too. Broke a rib wearing ace bandages when i was 19, couldn't bind for a year and damn near killed myself. In a fucked up way, dying was the best thing to happen to me.”

I look up at him, wipe my tears out of my eyes, and calm down a little. “You-you’re trans?”

He flashes a demonic looking smile, all teeth and a bit of pride, and lifts up his shirt to flash twin scars sprawling across his chest.

"Came out at the Stonewall Riots when I was 18 years old." He explains, still smiling wide and wild. “Year and a half before I was turned; when that happened I was a little younger than you, I think.”

I look at him in awe. “I’ve never met a trans person that was so much older than me.”

“For real?” He snorts, crossing his arms. “I should introduce you to Liz, then. 600 years old, turned when she was 14, didn't start transitioning until she was 87. I think she came over here on a Spanish Galleon, I'm pretty sure she originally made landfall in Guatemala..."

"Art, I know you're trying to focus, but you keep getting off topic." The girl at the desk yells over.

"Thank you Camilla, I realize that." He growls at the girl. Oh, so she's the Camilla person Yvonne mentioned. "Shit, did I forget to take my adderall again?”

I suddenly realize I don’t know where my backpack is. Oh fuck no, that thing has everything I own in it - my T, my journal, my charger, my spare clothes…

"Where's my backpack?" I ask Yvonne, panicked. I can feel my leg start involuntarily bouncing. “I need it, it has everything I have in it…”

Yvonne leans down and reaches under the cot I’m on and pulls out my ratty jansport, setting it down on my lap. I cling to it for dear life. It’s too late to stop the shaking, but at least it’s not gonna get any worse.

I see Yvonne go to rest her hand on my shoulder, but Arthur grabs her wrist and mutters something in her ear. My vision goes out of focus again as I try to calm myself down.

After a few minutes the shaking stops and I look up at the two now even more worried adults in front of me.

"Sorry…" I mutter, looking at my feet. "I… I need to know where this thing is or I… lose it, a little. It's really stupid, I don't know why it happens, it's super overreactive… my teachers all thought I just wanted attention in school."

“They…” Arthur starts, then hisses something unintelligible before looking at me in the eyes. The eye contact makes me a little nervous, but I do my best to hold it. “You’re not looking for attention if you have big emotions. That’s bullshit.”

I look down at my hands now, pulling at my joints and popping my knuckles. “My parents always said I’m broken and my brother thinks it’s something I can manage. I love my brother, but it’s… hard to get him to understand.”

He nods a little, then looks over at Camilla. “Can you check when Boris is open next?” He shouts over, to which Camilla gives a thumbs up. He turns his attention back to me, and shoots me a quick finger gun. “You need a new bus card, right? And you were going to your brother’s house when you got attacked, did you call him when you were heading over?”

I shake my head. “He was at work when I was heading over, and I have a key to his apartment so I was just gonna head over and wait for him.”

“Do you feel comfortable staying here for the night?”

"I think… that'll be better than going to my brother's house. I’m not sure if I can deal with the subway yet…”

He nods, mutters something to Yvonne, then heads out. Yvonne stretches out her hand, a silent invitation to get up and follow her. I take it after a moment of consideration, suddenly overwhelmingly nervous about my entire situation. What if these people are bad? What if they want to use me? I consider running, but after a moment I start thinking logically again. At the very least, Yvonne and Arthur are good. That’s enough for right now.

I grab my binder from Camilla on the way out, her silver eyes piercing my very soul, a silent warning to bind properly. I put the binder in my backpack, and throw the bag over my shoulder.

Yvonne guides me through ancient looking halls, lined with candelabras fitted with dim mercury light bulbs. I pull out my phone to check the time - 1:34PM. Shit, the day’s still only halfway done. I try to read Yvonne’s expression as we walk, but all I see is worry. No indication of where we might be going or what Arthur was whispering to her about.

Some people look at us as we walk by - some stare for a moment, but mostly they just glance briefly then look away. I keep as close as I can to Yvonne, and eventually we stop in front of a big pair of wooden doors.

“This is the common room,” she explains, gesturing towards the doors. “It has the best wifi in the building, it also has public computers, some books, board games… the works. I’ll leave you here, but feel free to explore around. There are signs at most of the intersecting hallways, so it’s not too hard to get lost around here, but most people will be willing to give you directions if you get turned around. You good with that, Victor?”

I give her a thumbs up, and hang outside of the common room until she disappears down the hallway. I debate going inside for a moment, but decide against it. There’s probably people in there, and people means social interaction. It means people seeing me without my binder on. I subconsciously start hitting the heels of my hands together as I debate what to do from here before deciding to head further down the hallway, away from where Yvonne and I came from. I cross my arms in an attempt to hide my chest, which is a little counterintuitive since it's probably just drawing more attention to that area.

I walk around for a few minutes without really seeing anybody, and after a little while I start to zone out, looking at the ironwork on the candelabras instead of where I’m walking, when I bump into someone. I yelp and jump back out of instinct, and the other person falls to the ground.

“I-I’m sorry!” I squeak as I start to fiddle with my backpack straps. “I didn’t see you!”

The person I knocked down, a boy with black hair and dark brown eyes, growls at me as he stands back up, “Who the fuck are you?”

“Um, m-m-my name’s Victor.” I respond, on the verge of tears.

“Alright, Victor, what the fuck are you? What are you doing here?” As soon as he’s fully upright he starts examining every detail of my face, and I realize that my mouth is still slightly open, so I slap a hand over it to cover my fangs.

“Oh, you’re a vamp.” He grumbles. “Were you one of those assholes who sells their blood to rogues, one of em went too far, threw you out?”

Suddenly I’m crying again. Three times in one day, what the hell? I start scratching my arms to try and counteract it. I try my best to look even smaller.

“Wh- oh fuck, don’t cry! I… fuck, I’m such a dumbass!” He hits his head a couple times. “Look, I’m really sorry, I have really bad impulse control issues, that was just the first thing that came to mind. Uh…”

It takes all of my willpower, but I manage to stop crying, only thing now the stimming is worse. I start hitting the heels of my hands together and tapping my left foot uncontrollably. “Um… thanks for the apology. Most of the time when I start crying I just get yelled at even worse.”

He looks at me, mild horror on his face, which I’m not quite sure if it’s from what he said earlier or what I said just now. “That’s fucked up.” He mutters, then he outstretches his hand. “I’m Adrian. Again, so sorry about what I said, I do not know what came over me. You’ve probably had a really rough day, huh?”

I take his hand after a brief moment of hesitation. His grip is really strong, I think normally I would be a little hurt by it but now it just feels like a very firm grip… wait, can I still be anemic if I'm a vampire?

"Um, yeah." I laugh a little, slightly intimidated by this guy. I'm automatically a little scared of anyone who makes me cry, but… I don't know. "It was kind of a shitty day before, but then with the… getting jumped and everything, and my life kind of being over, it's just been a whole lot worse."

"God, I'm an asshole." He says, a forced grin plastered to his face. "I completely understand if you never want to interact with me again."

"I'll think on that." I respond as I bring my arms back across my chest and start to focus on the wall right next to his head. "Uh, nice to meet you? Kind of?"

"Um, likewise." He responds as he shoves his hands in his pockets and walks off quickly. That was... weird.

#original story #spooky monsters n shit #this is maybe the most self indulgent thing ive ever written i have no goals in mind for this guy but im havin a good time

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jenna-jayde-the-renagade · 5 years

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When i was 13, i found out that men can and do become women. That there was a word for the way i felt inside: transgender. All i had to do in order to be who i am is reach out to the right people, seek help and support.

However, it isnt always so easy. Our world judges people like us in alot of scenarios, and for a kid who just wanted to live her best little life that was a scary concept. So i hid it, i did well until i was 15 and 16. My dad and my stepmom went through my room, twice. On both occasions they found womens clothing, which i would quite often wear to bed cause i felt so soothed by the soft fabric. I had leggings, and panties, and a sports bra, and a white tank top the first time. Even back then i always loved the way leggings hugged my lower half, and how relaxing and comfortable sleep was in them. Back then it was a source of comfort, i "dressed up" in order to cull the anxiety i had from putting on this mask every day. It was killing me.

I made fun of, i bullied my own kind, i bullied the LGBTQ community as a whole. I did it because i wanted to distance myself from my own identity, and cause i was jealous of other trans women who were already in their transitions and living their best lives!! I became a homophobic, misogynistic asshole to just get away from it, and to make sure nobody would ever expect it. I hate that period of my life, i look back on it in deep shame.

But then one day i moved into a place that i would eventually feel safe in. I was 18 now, and just starting to really get worn down by drugs and mental illness. But i turned around there, and i got really close to the staff at this group home. They supported me like my parents would, even though they were a different nationality and spoke bad english i felt closer to the group home workers than almost anyone else. They talked me down when i was mad or crying. They helped me get further in life. I had thoughts of coming out one day, and how i could probably do it both in vancouver and in this house. I had thoughts of how it would go. Who to tell first, it raged in my head for a couple weeks. But one day i was with my therapist, we were driving around and i had just gotten a cheddar bacon angus burger from mcdonalds with a vanilla bean frappuccino to drink. But before i could eat, my stomach wouldnt let me go on without telling my therapist whats really going on.

"I dont know how to say this ashley, but its been on my mind since i was 13 and ive planned out the whole process in my head already! Im fucking trans, im a woman, i want to be a girl and im tired of putting on this rough and tough mask just to try and fit in and be a man!! Im tired of rough, i want soft!! I want to have boobs!! I want to have nice long legs with thick hips! I want to see the sparkle come back to my eyes! I want to see my smile have happyness behind it, and not nothing, im tired of faking it!! Im scared, i could never do this around my dad, or in kelowna!! But ive got a fresh start in this city, and i know i can do it with the supports i have!! Everything i did was to please someone else, and i tried to be the best man i could to hide it.. im not a man though, im a happy, beautiful girl and im tired of hiding her!!"

That was 2017, in the spring. I was a drug addict back then, and i lived full time as a girl for 3 whole months!! Although i was so happy, and felt so comfortable in my skin i couldnt handle it once i lost my supports on top of my addiction.

On september 14th 2017, i buried Jenna for a while. I felt so horrible, even rhough i knew it was temporary i didnt know how temporary it would be. I was scared to be a boy now, and i felt even more dysphoric full well knowing the result of transitioning and the improvements to my mental health. Burying jenna was burying who i am. It couldn't last long, and once i got sober on december 15th 2018, and got myself into a safe space again in march. By late april i couldnt hold jenna inside me anymore, she needed out, jenna needed to bloom and grow big and strong!! I came out a second time to my mother and my grandmother who were both as accepting as two people who know no trans people aside from me can be. It went well, i told them it was time for me to resume my transition.

They were there for me when i reached out to Skipping stone, and got hooked up with a gender therapist. By august i had a date for when i would start hormones, october 9th 2019. On october 9th i was tense, i just wanted it to go right. I even had a little freakout in my appointment at my phone. But, after driving an hour and half each way, i walked out of my doctors office still in boy mode, but with a script for cyproterone and estradiol!! I started that night!!

When i started hrt, i was a different person in two weeks, i wasnt jayden, i was jenna. I acted way more feminine, my skin got softer, my erogenous zones changed, my voice got higher, my testicles shrunk. The feminization process had begun! I had emotional breaks here and there, and it hasnt been easy all the time. But my bad days today are still better than my best days when i was playing a character, acting as jayden. Today when i get sad, i put on something cute, and i take some cute pics and i look at them. I love it when i can honestly say, i love the way im changing. How my face lost the wrinkles of 5 years of bad habits in two months!! How my breasts are here and so so sensitive, i feel them moving on my chest and theyre like little stress sacks there for me to squeeze and hold when im feeling down!! I love the feeling of weight on my chest, and the jiggle when i walk or hit bumps on my bike! My medical transition so far is destroying any bit of my dysphoria!

I think trans is beautiful, because theres something just so positive, so god damn enlightening and beautiful. About one mans journey to woman. My body is changing, its curves being accentuated, its features becoming more noticeable by the day. I feel so much joy when i see a change, when i notice my body looks feminine. Or when i get compliments, like "my god youve got legs for days!!" It makes me know for a fact i chose right, cause im a beautiful girl, going through this beautiful process with beautiful changes.

Jenna jayde is a girl, i wasnt born a girl, but i make a better girl than i ever could have a boy. Wearing clothes that make me happy, and feel hugged all over from the soft tight fabric. Feeling emotions i never thought existed after a while on hrt!

Its so beautiful, like a sunflower swaying slightly in the summer breeze!

Life is better now, its worth standing up and fighting for.

Woot woot!! Its trans positivity jenna!! Woot woot!!

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spop-vld-wtf · 6 years

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More random she-ra headcannons.

Bow is Trans

He used to be called a princess, which is why he has an honorary seat at the table of princesses

His crop-top is basically a binder

He came out when he was twelve

Dads: Fully and completly supportive

One cried happy tears

The other just hugged him and talked to him

Then they went out and got a blacksmith to make him the armored crop-top binder that he wears today.

Glimmer: Already suspected it, but was happy for him.

It didn’t really matter to the other princesses, but they still accepted him

Sometimes he’ll visit a smaller kingdom he hasn’t been to in a couple years and people will still introduce him as “Princess Rainbow” and the dysphoria hits h a r d.

When this happens, Glimmer and his dads are usually his main beams of support

He cries a lot and glimmer just holds him and talks to him and his dads cry with him then bake cookies.

He only started t a year ago

(Before that it was unavailable)

He’s kind of really scared that he’ll never fully change because he started late

He starts to talk to Mermista about this

Sometimes its just easier to talk to someone your not as close with

Mermista tries to help, but sometimes she gets really blushy and Bow can’t figure out why

It takes six whole months of Adora living in the castle for her to find out

“It doesn’t change my opinion of you. Your the same Bow I’ve ever known, even though you used to look different, and your still my best friend.”

*Cue group hug and tears*

His voice cracks all the time and he fucking h a t e s it.

So like, Catra and Adora’s relationship: Hella complicated

Back at the horde, Catra and Adora were in love with each other.

They knew this but they never confronted the other on feelings because they were in the middle of a war

(and also because they were both scared of their feelings)

They kissed once, and it was passionate and sweet, and loving

Then they ignored each other for a week and never talked about it again

But Adora really wished she could have more

They always comforted each other when things in the horde got too hard

So Adora did a lot of the comforting seeing as Hordak hated Catra

Catra would cry and Adora would hold her in her arms whispering sweet words in her hair and kissing her foehead.

Adora was the only person who Catra showed this side of her to

So, when Adora left both of their emotions were going crazy

Adora got a crush on Glimmer, and tried to push her feelings for Catra away because they’re enimies now.

(But some part of her deep down still loves Catra and desperately wants her to be free from the horde)

And Catra has convinced herself that she hates Adora and that she deserves to burn under the fire of a hundred bullets for her actions, but she still loves her

So it’s kind of like there’s always a war going on in her head when she see’s Adora.

They both feel really sad and empty without the other.

And Adora, she has Bow and Glimmer to keep her going

But Catra has no-one

She starts over training and eating less to compensate for her feelings

She just really needs a hug :’(

That’s it for now, sorry it’s so short.

#SPOP #She-Ra #she-ra and the princesses of power #adora #glimmadora #Headcanon #glimmer #bow #trans bow #catradora #catra #bow's dads #mermista

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recentanimenews · 5 years

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An Explorer's Guide to the Wonderful World of Visual Novels

Visual novels! Once decried as a “niche” by the masses, they have slowly but surely wormed their way into video games as a whole. Persona became a visual novel, then Fire Emblem. Now Saya no Uta, Gen Urobuchi's disturbing cult “classic” (?!) is available on Steam to stumble upon. There are fewer barriers than ever before to experiencing this varied, historic and often misunderstood medium.

But where to begin? Some visual novels are very long. Others are quite lewd. A number of them (even the ones people love) front-load their most boring material at the beginning, and save the best moments for the last hour of what can be twenty or thirty-hour games. Picking up Saya no Uta without being primed for the extremes of the medium is a recipe for despair. But don't be afraid! Many of the best visual novels being made today are only a few hours long, encompass many approaches and genres, and are acceptable for all ages. In this piece I will lay out a path that you, dear reader, may follow into the thickets. Some things to keep in mind:

1. Every one of the games featured here is legally avaliable in English. If you know Japanese and are willing to spend some money, feel free to experiment on your own!

2. The games featured here range from appropriate for teenagers, to appropriate for mature audiences. Content warnings will be marked as needed. That said, almost none of these games feature the kind of graphic sex you'd see in old-school titles like Fate/Stay Night; the exception is the final title, included for completionism, which is truly sordid and not appropriate for anybody (but I like it).

3. While I've had some experience with the medium, BL and otome games are huge blind spots of mine, so I won't embarrass myself by pretending expertise! If you're interested in exploring those fields, I've heard good things about Code: Realize (get the collector's edition with the extra content!), Hatoful Boyfriend and (if you're OK with some NSFW material) Coming Out on Top.

With that said, let us being our journey!

SHORT AND SWEET:

These games last about two to three hours, but will stick with you longer than that. Don't assume these are “beginner games” simply because they are short! I could argue that collectively, the three titles here are the best on this list.

Butterfly Soup is Brianna Lei's follow-up to her cult success Pom Gets Wi-Fi. It's free! It's also one of the most acclaimed visual novels ever by the mainstream games press, scoring praise from folks like Patricia Hernandez and Steve Gaynor. As for what it's about: it's the story of four girls on their high school softball team, two of them are in love, and there are many funny jokes. I found the ending to be abrupt, but if you're looking for good vibes and some much-needed encouragement to stay true to yourself, I highly recommend this game. Plus it references Matt Mullholland's excellent “My Heart Will Go On” performance, which earns it extra points in my book.

Content warnings: Brief depictions of parental and physical abuse (no visuals!), ableist slurs.

We Know the Devil is “what if Kelly Link wrote Revolutionary Girl Utena?” Plenty of anime and games channel that energy (my beloved What A Beautiful visual novel series among them) but few do so as succinctly and distinctively as Aevee Bee, Mia Schwartz and their team do in this game. The result is a punk, unsettling take on magical girl stories set in a Christian summer camp, featuring sneaky world-building and some striking body horror. You'll feel for the cast and their struggles, and cheer in the True Ending when everything goes completely off the rails.

Content warnings: Psychological and body horror, alienation of queer youth in a religious setting, freaky music.

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EXTREME MEATPUNKS FOREVER is a game about gay antifascist folks fighting fascists across the desert while riding giant robots made of meat. It's the equivalent of a zine you'd pick up at a fair, willing to dive into messy topics most games shy away from and wholly uninterested in sanding away any rough spots. The music is great too! Play this game if you want to beat up Nazis in a giant meat machine called ROOTS AMONG ASH.

Content warnings: Body horror, mentions of self harm and abuse, suicidal ideation, alcohol, gender dysphoria, loss of bodily autonomy, apocalyptic ideation. For mature audiences!

NICE AND MEATY:

These games are a good bit longer, ranging from five to fifteen hours to beat. If you enjoyed the earlier entries and want more, try some of these!

The House in Fata Morgana is a bonafide cult classic, a game made by a small studio that earned itself a legion of die-hard fans in the visual novel space. At first glance it's an entertaining genre pastiche, four tales of doomed love centering around a cursed mansion. But read past the first four chapters, and suddenly the real story comes to the fore—the tale of two ordinary people and a love that lasts for centuries. Fata Morgana takes some huge swings, tackling societal oppression, intersexuality, recovering from past trauma and learning to move on from those who have wronged you without having to forgive them. Its success at landing these swings likely depends on the reader, but I found Fata Morgana's heart to be in the right place. Couple that with one of the best soundtracks in video games, and you have an experience that is worth it even at 0% off.

Content warnings: incest, domestic violence, racist and sexist remarks, psychological manipulation, homophobic and transphobic remarks, sexual assault, child abuse. For mature audiences!

Heart of the Woods is, as of yet, the most ambitious game made by Studio Elan. It's a supernatural mystery where two adult women travel to a small town in the cold and dark to investigate some strange occurrences. What they find leads to unexpected romance, but also incredible danger. Heart of the Woods is sweet, it's funny (Tara is hilarious!) and as has come to be a running theme in this piece, the music is excellent, courtesy of Sarah Mancuso and Kris Flacke. Heart of the Woods is a game made by people who clearly have a lot of affection for visual novels as a medium, but had enough discretion to snip out the bits they weren't fond of. It also comes with a plethora of accessibility options, allowing you to customize everything from the text to the music to your needs.

Content warnings: Parental abuse, alcohol, light horror elements, some sex scenes you can enable with an optional R-18 patch. For mature audiences!

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As for Seabed, it's... yuri ASMR? It's difficult to describe, as the appeal of this one for me isn't so much the story—which is intriguing, but very slow-paced—as it is the feel of it. Everything from the music, to the sound effects, to the text, contributes to a languid feeling unlike every other game in the medium I have played. Seabed won't be for everyone, but few titles match its distinctive atmosphere.

Content warnings: alcohol, partial nudity. At least one sex scene that isn't too explicit by the standards of the medium. For mature audiences!

THE DEEP END:

These games range in length from fifteen hours to fifty... and beyond! If you're looking for the experience your Japanese-speaking friends fell in love with back in the days of fan translations and frantically searching online for information on Type-Moon properties, this is it!

Imagine that you have an idea for a great Japanese TV-drama, but you decide to make it as a visual novel instead. Wanting to produce as authentic an experience as possible, you hire actors and have them act out every scene in your script as you take multiple photographs depicting every twist and turn in the plot. Imagine the sheer amount of time and labor it would require. Then multiply it by five, let the player switch between these narratives with the ease of hitting a button on a gamepad, and tie them together into a vast meta-narrative. That's 428: Shibuya Scramble, one of the most ambitious visual novels ever created and a game that was famously awarded a score of 40 by the Japanese games rag Famitsu. Despite having an enormous and complicated script, it was localized into English just a year ago. Don't miss out on this bizarre and fascinating video game! If you're a fan of the Yakuza series, you'll be right at home with 428's brand of lunacy.

Content warnings: Violence, drugs, alcohol, some bad language.

Umineko: When They Cry is a lot. A gonzo mystery story that starts as a riff on And Then There Were None, it swiftly mutates into a hundred-hour game of four-dimensional chess. It was made by a small team, scored by the music of the gods, and is fully committed throughout to its brand of sentiment, metaphysical rambling and extreme horror. Some might say that Umineko is overwrought, but that is the point: the game is memorable for its excess, not despite of it. If you're looking for a taste of the full VN experience, complete with shocking twists, a weird obsession with trivia and far too many words, this is the most authentic you can find that's appropriate for all audiences. Please play with the original art! It's charming.

Content warnings: Parental abuse, blood and gore, people getting killed and suffering fates worse than death at the hands of witches (???). For mature audiences!

And now we come to [NSFW] Wonderful Everyday, everything your anxious friend told you about visual novels. It's not just that Wonderful Everyday has sex scenes, it's that it takes less time to list what triggering and problematic content is not in the game than what is in it. It references Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus and Cyrano de Bergerac. The game isn't afraid to take huge, unexpected shifts in tone and aesthetic in order to scare or destabilize the player. You might be wondering: why recommend a game like this, which many would find morally abhorrent? All I can say is that Wonderful Everyday is the game that convinced your Japanese-speaking friends to read Wittgenstein. It's a cult classic, a title unavailable in English for years that came with the highest praise imaginable: that it was a profound work of art, that it would change your way of thinking forever. After finally playing through the game two years ago, my feelings were more mixed; but there's no mistaking that few games better personify the visual novel medium's eccentricities, indulgences or shoot-for-the-moon ambition than this shaggy, gross, but fascinating video game.

Content warnings: suicide, psychological and body horror, multiple variants of sexual assault, extreme bullying, extreme violence, bestiality (thankfully cut down for release in the US!), a transgender character who is handled in a pretty specious way. Many graphic sex scenes. For very mature audiences!

There's even more great titles out there that I couldn't fit on this list! The high stakes and interface-shattering plot twists of 999. The countless games being made in engines like Ren'Py, Choice of Games and Twine. South Korean visual novels like Nameless and Mystic Messenger. No matter what kind of person or reader you may be, there is a visual novel out there somewhere for you. I wish you luck in your endless journey of discovery!

Are you a fan of visual novels? Do you have any (safe for work, if possible) recommendations? Please let us know in the comments!

---

Adam W is a features writer at Crunchyroll. When he isn't eagerly awaiting the announcement of the Girls' Work anime by Type Moon, he sporadically contributes with a loose coalition of friends to a blog called Isn't it Electrifying? Follow him on twitter at: @wendeego

Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: [email protected]

#Anime #News #Latest in Anime News by Crunchyroll!

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