#as for the binder part ive never felt the Need to wear or get one but of course Now im like 👀😶🤔 oh ???

[sofie-toffy]

Mizu Headcanons

AN: Broo ive just finished blue eye samurai and im obsessed w it..so here are some headcanons! SHE WAS SO FINE IN THE LAST SCENE BTW UGHH

(I’ll be separating it based on genre eg. angst or fluff)

Warnings: Angst, Contains mentions of death & murder, spoilers! The fluff is x reader

(if you know me irl, no you don’t)

Angst:

- Mizu often thinks about how life would be if she chose to forgave her husband and didn’t kill him

- After Ringo leaving her she feels awful for what she’s done and wishes that she could let go of her revenge path but cannot

- Once Mizu’s “mother” betrayed her and Mizu killed her, she still had the motive of killing her father, but instead of the motive to avenge her mother it was to curse the man that made her live in the first place

- She understood that she never should’ve been born in the first place and was born as monstrous, hence her obsession with revenge. But there is obviously a part of her that wants to live a peaceful life

- She normally has panic attacks but no one has ever witnessed them except Swordfather

- When she was with her husband (the night before the sparring) that was the only time she felt loved for who she was

- She wanted to show who she really was as her husband asked to, and once she did she was called “a monster” and now she’s reluctant to show anyone even half of who she really is

- She overworks herself to the point of exhaustion and most times collapses, forgetting to eat and rest

- Whenever she checks her reflection, she imagines herself with brown/black eyes

- (Canon) she wears the same clothes she wore since she was a child and stitches them whenever they tear

- because of her binder she often has trouble breathing but she’s so used to it she thinks it’s normal

- She once wanted to gouge her eyes out so she won’t witness the looks of disgust when they see her eyes

- She’s entirely convinced that there’s no way she’ll ever be truly loveable. She’s convinced she’s monstrous in every way, from the hues of her blue eyes to the violence she bears

(MY POOR BABY I LOVE HER SM I JUST WANNA SEE HER HAPPY N SATISFIED 😭😭)

Fluff/Not angst(finally)

- Love language is quality time & acts of service

- Although she’s not aware of it, she has an unconscious fixation with music. Mizu has always been drawn to musical festivals and it both calms and excites her

- If given the time, she normally asks if you want to go to festivals (her unnamingly pleading for you to agree) and her face is relaxed the whole time, her fingers intertwined with yours

- I feel her normal dates with you would be very simple. She’d enjoy just spending time with you, quietly or with small chatter

- She loves stargazing with you. My god. Laying beside each other, feeling each others warmth contrary to the harsh snow as you look at the different constellations

- Actually, you’d be looking at the constellation while she looks at you with a small smile tugging at her lips, while she adores the light in your eyes as you gaze up

- Speaking of holding hands she LOVES to hold your hand, doesn’t matter if your hand is cold or warm, it intertwines with hers perfectly

- Whenever you compliment her eyes she doesn’t believe you until you say it a thousand times

- takes a LONG time to warm up to you, but once she does it is SO worth it

- unconsciously misses your warmth, once sleeping she searches for your hand to hold or for you to hug

- speaking of hugging, i think she can be both spoons but mostly big spoon

- loves resting her head on your chest but loves wrapping her arms around you, ensuring that you are safe

AN: GUYS I NEED HER SO BAD U DONT GET IT

[violasmirabiles]

me: yeah no the stuff i watch never really affects my dreams

also me: has a dream two nights in a row where mark fucking hoffman shoots me in the throat after a Very Long chase around a dream town that was basically the town i live in except it was now by the sea and there was a huge skyscraper type of building that was a??? i think a research facility of some kind??? a lot of government officials too?? military people?? idk i hid in there for a bit which was a mistake cos it was a dream and there was a huge elevator that started defying all sorts of laws of reality and physics. and i was so fucking tired!! no reason for that bitchass cop to chase me anyway, id done nothing (except i think i had in fact done... something... to make him That murderous... but ive no idea What exactly) anyway at one point i just sorta had a breather in some dark alley and went Fuck, i dont even wanna live, why am i doing this to myself, this isnt fun, thisd be the easiest fucking way to go if i let it. i think i was scared hed do something to the people i love. and also i wasnt, like, 100% sure he wouldnt do it slowly and slow wasnt the way i wanted to go. anyway i eventually made it to a rather public place - at a crossroads (fucking crossroads fuck) right by the university campus. the smug bastard had a car - nothing too obvious about it and idk if id even seen it before but it was big and black and sleek and the second i saw it i just kinda nodded to myself like Him. Ah There He Is. That Motherfucker. What A Tool. and lo and behold it was him speeding in that fucking car. tried to shoot me but fucking missed and turned a corner as i was literally yelling for him to do better, i know you wanna, try again come on bitch just do it - and a friend of mine heard me and i saw her approach from the uni campus and i yelled at her to get back, this isnt about you, you dont have to see this - just as hoffman had made it around the block (dont know why he drove all the way there and back, this was a dream). i just kinda stood there looking at him and went cmon, do it, and for a second the bitch hesitated cos ig he thought id put up a bigger fight after the whole chase thing, but it was only a second. he had that smug grin of his that makes me want to punch it right out of his face. and this time he didnt miss, shot me right in the neck. looked me in the eye as he did it and then sped away. the friend of mine whod seen me earlier came running - shes a nurse irl and was wearing her nurses uniform here - and, cos it was a dream, she didnt really do anything practical to help or call an ambulance, and i didnt die either, was just bleeding all over the place and was kinda out of it. i could stand and walk all right and the nurse friend just started walking me away. walked way further than shouldve been possible, i think she was taking me somewhere (another friends place maybe) to be taken care of and to rest. i think i blacked out at some point cos it just faded into nothing and when i came to i was still dreaming but i wasnt even sure in the dream whether or not the hoffman thing had really happened. i was in an apartment with a bunch of my friends & kept touching the side of my neck where hed shot me and there was a scar but it was all healed and no one brought it up. the rest of the dream was just regular dream weird. robbed a clothes store and wore a binder throughout. have never worn one before and in the dream i remember being like Oh Okay so this is what we do now O. K.!! all right! and my friends were like yeah yeah it is shut up this isnt the time to talk about it... kept looking for a mirror too but never found one

[abandoned-ax]

I’m on the team - pt 3

Pt 1 pt 2 pt 4

Summery: the first day of training camp!!

Tw!!! scratching (self harm scratching), panic attack

It’s strange, over the week the team has been super busy, practicing and studying. I helped Tsuki with Hinata and Kageyama trying to make sure they pass there exams, Iv gotten pretty close with the two, there both really fun, and watching them both struggle with classes and Tsuki scolding them is super funny. Sadly the two didn’t pass their exams and are both super upset. I remember when we were getting our test scores back i rushed to their classroom with Yams hoping to see them both super excited only to see Hinata come out pouting, and Kageyama with this super dejected look like he was super disappointed in himself for his grades. They were assured tho that they would be able to get to the training camp just a bit late!

We’re headed to the training camp, me Tsuki and yams are all sitting together, me and Tsuki on one side and yams on the seat across the isle. I’m starting to get nervous, not knowing how other teams are going to react to me being there! They don’t even know who I am, or my situation!

“Tsuki!! What if their angry! Maybe I shouldn’t have come- or-or maybe I shouldn’t have even joined, we don’t know how people are going to react!”

“It’s going to be ok (Y/N) im sure their all nice.” Yams said with this super supportive smile

“Yeah and if anyone bothers you I’ll take care of them.” Tsuki says knocking shoulders with me giving me a small smile.

“Yeah (Y/N) don’t worry! You’ve got all of us, we won’t let anything happen!” Suga says turning around, seemingly having heard me freaking out.

I sigh starting to scratch my hands a nervous habit of mine. After a minute or two Tsuki notices grabbing my hand giving me a disapproving look. He reaches down into the backpack he brought on the bus looking for something, pulling out a stress ball and hands it to me.

The rest of the bus ride me Tsuki and Yams ended up falling asleep, I guess I tired myself out with all of my stressing.

We got to Tokyo faster then I thought, the bus ride felt way to quick! But I guess that happens when you sleep, it’s like time travel.

Getting off the bus we were greeted by some guy with crazy strange rooster hair, I quickly moved to hide behind Tsuki still scared about meeting the other guys. Daichi went over to talk to rooster head while the rest of us got our bags off the bus Tanaka and Noya pushing me and Tsuki and Yams to “walk faster” and “get more excited”.

I overhear The guy Daichi is talking to saying “ your missing a few aren’t you? Wait who’s the new kid” I move closer to Tsuki hoping his tallness will hide me, “why does the new kid look so scared of me.” all I can think about is what if they’re transphobic, what if they don’t want me here, what’s going to happen when they find out. “I’ll tell you about him in a bit.” Daichi responds giving me a concerned look. Tsuki makes a comment about annoying volleyball guys while nudging me to try and get my attention, he and Yams start bickering a little bit and Noya and Tanaka are practically bouncing off the walls and it keeps me distracted.

We were pointed towards the room we’d be staying in putting our bags down and changing. I started getting more nervous, Iv never met these people before and they don’t know my situation. What if I walk on the court and someone yells at me, what if people start asking questions, what if one of them gets super angry and starts yelling at me, what if the team decides they actually side with them! What if-

“(Y/N)” it’s Tsuki and Suga, the two are standing in front of me, Suga is holding my hands and Tsuki has a hand on my back.

“Come on let’s sit down yeah,” the two move me to go sit on a windowsill I look over their shoulders and see all the guys looking at me, I don’t know why I feel so small now, I know them all, I know their not judging me, but I still feel like the piercing stare I’m getting from them is too much. I see Asahi start moving and coming to stand next to Suga on the opposite side from Tsuki.

“Hey (Y/N) I need you to breath for me ok,” he gives me a really concerned look I hadn’t even realized I was hyperventilating, taking one of my hands from Suga and putting it on his chest taking big deep breaths so that I can feel it. “In and out, in and out.” The two words being repeated like a mantra.

Once I’m breathing slightly better Tsuki starts asking questions

“are you lightheaded?”

“Kinda”

“did you eat this morning”

“no”

“why?”

“Didn’t have time.”

“Can someone go grab a granola bar or something?” I see some movement and I think it was Noya who left to go grab something for me to eat. “Are you nervous about training camp?”

“Yes” I say quietly hoping that only he can hear

“Is it because you haven’t played a real game yet.”

I shake my head, I haven’t even thought about that fact that I’m going to be playing a real game for the first time, the only people Iv played against is the team.

“Is it because your afraid people are going to be mean about your gender?”

��I- yes,”

I see everyone look around, I guess they hadn’t thought this was really that big of a deal, but for me, this isn’t something that happens normally, while they all had the door to this space opened to them, I had to hike up a mountain to just get to the door, and I’m just scared that once I get into the space that they all see as a right, is a privilege that most people like me don’t have, it isn’t a space I’m normally supposed to be in, and once you realize my situation everyone knows it.

Suga pulls on my hands making me face him. “ it’s gunna be ok (Y/N), if anyone says anything we’ll deal with it. You’ve got the team! We’re going to make sure your ok.” Suga says with a reassuring smile.

Noya quickly gets back in the room with a granola bar and a water bottle sliding in front of me to hand them both to me. “Thanks Noya” it’s a couple more minutes that I sit there catching my breath before I give everyone a nod letting them know I’m ok, everyone starts to disperse to Finnish getting ready.

Tsuki went over to his bag giving me an extra shirt he had, just like when I first stopped wearing my binder while playing. It’s a reassuring gesture. I get changed and everyone starts leaving before Tsuki grabs my hand, holding me back for a second.

“Your gunna be ok. I promise. And if you get scared or anything just let me or Suga or Daichi know and we’ll get you off the court ok?”

“Thanks Tsuki.”

Tsuki speeds up a little bit to get to yams and Daichi slows down a bit to get back to me.

“Hey I wanted to let you know before we get in there, there might be a cupule people who know your situation, mainly Kuroo the captain of Nekoma, he’s the guy from when we first show up. And I think Kenma their setter might. Him and Kuroo are close and he’s friends with hinata, and we’ll you know hinata. Other then that I’m not sure, they might have told some others but still I can’t tell you what the rest know.”

“Thanks Daichi, um did Kuroo seem chill about it when you told him?”

“Yeah, yeah definitely, I mean he was for sure surprised but, he ended up just saying ‘oh! That’s cool’ so I don’t think you have anything to worry about there.”

“Thanks Daichi.”

“Of course kid.”

We finally all get into the gym moving to get warmed up before our first game!

—————————————————————

Let’s just say we haven’t been winning much, Coach put me into Hinatas spot so Iv been playing a lot. Honestly Iv been so stressed about my gender that I didn’t have time to stress about the fact that Iv never been in a game before. Iv gotten a few good spikes in and have been blocking a bit, but I’m by no means super good! We’ve been doing lots of flying laps.

After one of our practice games with nekoma everyone was taking a break to drink some water when some guy with bleached long hair came over to me.

“Hey.” He said kind of quietly, he seemed pretty awkward like he doesn’t do this often.

“Hey?”

“Um I just wanna let you know- i mean I’m friends with hinata and he’s told me about your situation.”

“Ah I see”

“I just wanted to let you know I’m chill with it, all of us on Nekoma are, so you’ve got nothing to worry about with us.”

“Thanks. It’s uh really reassuring to hear that. I’m (Y/N)”

“Kenma.”

“It’s nice to meet you Kenma”

“So uh how long have you been playing, it’s just we did a practice game with you guys not to long again and you weren’t there.”

“Oh yeah umm I just started playing only a few weeks ago.”

“Wow really. Your pretty good for someone who’s never played before.”

“Ha thanks, but I really have my team to thank, they got me playing and have been pretty good teachers”

“I hope one of those teachers hasn’t been Hinata I’m pretty sure most of what he says to explain volleyball is sound-effects.”

“I know right! It’s like he doesn’t know words sometimes.”

“Yeah it’s really strange but you get used to it.”

“Haha I guess eventually I’ll learn to speak his strange language!”

“Yeah!” Kind of out of nowhere the guy from this morning Kuroo I think his name was wrapped an arm around Kenmas shoulders.

“Well well what do we have here! Is Kenma actually talking to someone!”

“Shut up Kuroo”

“Hi I’m Kuroo, (Y/N) right?”

“Yeah, yeah that’s me.”

“Well it’s nice to meet the newest player.” He sends me a wink, “come on Kenma our games about to start, it was nice to meet you (Y/N)!” The two walk off headed back to the court.

It’s a little bit later in the day that Hinata and Kageyama show up! Hinata taking my spot in the game, and honestly I’m grateful, this day has been exhausting.

An: hey guys! Thank you so much for reading! I hope you all liked this part!! I’m so excited to keel writing!! I take requests so if you have any please just message me!!!

[silverandarsenic-hcs]

Could you please please please! Do Papas/cardiac and ghouls reacting to S/O being nervous to do anything because their trans, or coming out to them? (FTM and MTF)

First post in a long time and it’s not even my work! This is something @solofreakk answered for us FOREVER ago that I never even go around to pressing the 8 buttons to post it. How absolutely lazy can I be. But please enjoy (-kat) 

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*cracks my knuckles* alright Oingos and Boingos and Those Who Are Neither i’m gonna do my best at this as a trans/nonbinary guy but i definitely don’t speak for everyone’s experiences, so… if you don’t like this i apologize. I want everyone to be supportive of you so if they sound repetitive I’m sorry! And I apologize in advance for not including MTF :( I just feel like trans women and men can have some similar experiences but in the end I don’t think it’s my place to write for them. If there are any trans women out there writing stuff for Ghost i would say Please Shamelessly Shout Yourselves Out In The Replies Ladies.

Papa I: He’s a bit too old for most activities that would reveal you being trans imo. A pride parade is too crazy for him, he doesn’t have the energy to go to the pool or something. If you did he’d just lay there in the sun with a ghoul waiting to open an umbrella when he’s about to start getting too crisp. So if you didn’t go swimming, or take your shirt off, it literally would not raise any questions. He’s not in the water. He might make an offhand comment about how you should enjoy yourself but you could very easily tell him you’d prefer to be sitting with him, and you melting his old man heart like that kills any other question he might’ve even had. If you do end up explaining it to him later, he kindly reminds you there’s nothing wrong with knowing who you are. Encourages you to feel comfortable around him, you shouldn’t feel like you have to hide who you are because of your past. No further questions asked. You can say what you’d like about yourself but he won’t press or get in your business.

Papa II: This man is totally comfortable with nudity. You being opposite is… weird. He’ll ask. Are you insecure? You can say it’s something like that. He’ll be able to tell that you’re kind of dodging the question and he’ll leave it alone. But you’ve piqued his curiosity now. He’s gonna watch you just a little bit closer than he did before. He’ll suggest you guys take a swim, or go to the beach, and when you shoot that down too, he’ll ask. “Is there a reason why?” You can try to make excuses, or be vague, or say a half-truth, but those mismatched eyes see right through you. He probably already knows. When you ask him if he does, he’ll just wrap you in a nice strong Papa II Rare Tender Hug™. “It’s nothing to be ashamed about, you know. It’s okay to decide you’re not what everyone said you were. It’s part of becoming your own person.” Would probably be more bold in asking what your future plans are for yourself. Later on quietly reminds you not to bind for too long, or helps you with shots, or is making sure you’re laid up in luxury if you get top surgery. Supports you even if you’re gnc and don’t bind or don’t plan to transition and would impart his death glare upon anyone who dared to misgender you or treat you poorly.

Papa III: Hope no one shoots me down for saying “Papa III trans man” but *eyes emoji*. He’s gonna recognize your behavior immediately. You sweat at the idea of going to the pool or the beach, you don’t wanna change in front of him, you get nervous if someone calls you pretty instead of handsome. He’ll see you very very discreetly tugging at your binder, or taking deep breaths. And he just knows. And he’s elated. He’s like “OH I AM GONNA MAKE YOU FEEL SO HANDSOME.” Immediately deploys plan “Compliment Anon ‘Til He Dies”. He’s telling you that your hair looks great today, your laugh is so masculine, I love the way your arms look, That shirt is so handsome on you, I’m lucky to have such a wonderful man in my life. Anything it takes to have you know how great you are. If you’re busy melting over the compliments, you might not immediately realize he’s caught on. You’ll probably think he’s just doing his regular Papa III schmoozing. Eventually, it clicks in your head. He’s lauding on you ‘cause he knows. So because he seems so cool with it, you finally work up the nerve to tell him. And he smiles at you and he’s taking his shirt off and whoa whoa WHOA HEY IT’S WORK HOURS MAN- oh. Oh. I see. That’s why. He buttons his shirt back up and pats you on the head and asks if you wanna get top surgery too, and if you say yes he’s literally writing you a check on the spot. He wants you to feel as comfortable in your body as he does in his and if you have any dysphoria woes he is all ears. He’s seriously like ride or die for you bro.

Cardinal Copia/Papa IV: He thinks your nervous behavior is totally normal, only because he is also nervous all the time. So he doesn’t even read into it. He’s totally clueless. You don’t wanna go swimming? Okay, yeah, actually he doesn’t really want to do it either. He’s pale, he’d just get burnt. Let’s stay inside all day in our pajamas. You don’t wanna put your pajamas on in front of him? That is also ok, hell let’s change in different rooms. You don’t even have to explain yourself, he just Gets It™. Eventually if you start wondering why he hasn’t asked about your odd behavior, you’ll just ask him. “Did you notice that I’m kinda… weird, about some stuff?” He’ll say he’s weird about stuff too, why should he pry into your personal business? So you press on and tell him you’re trans. You don’t want anyone else to know, for a myriad of reasons. You might start rambling about it, complaining about stuff, talking about what you want. And he’ll just… listen. Nod sometimes to let you know he’s hearing you, and you can keep going if you want. Finally you’ll end it with an exasperated and maybe slightly embarrassed sigh, but before you can apologize he’s pulling you into a hug. You are free to talk about it as much as you want, especially if you don’t tell anyone else. You’ve got all this stuff weighing on your mind and no one to vent it to, and he’s flattered you finally felt comfortable enough to let him know something so personal. 

Dewdrop: Dare I say it… I headcanon Dewdrop as trans too… He’s much more like me though, feisty and kinda gnc. Like III, he’s gonna catch onto your behavior immediately. He’s not gonna make any moves to let you know that he knows, though. Just quietly be in your corner. Well, as quiet as Dew gets. He’s gonna… violently be in your corner. If he finds out someone misgendered you or committed some related act he considers a heinous crime, they’re losing some teeth. He’ll take a chunk out of them if someone isn’t there to rein him in. Eventually when you confide in him that you’re trans, he’s telling you that’s cool. You ask him why he’s so chill about it and he’s just smirking at you. “What…?” You ask. “Seriously, what? Why- ooohhh…” You’re free to not bind around him because most of the time, he doesn’t. He’s not gonna judge you for anything. Whether you wanna be traditionally masculine or be lax about gender norms, he’s gonna tell you you’re cool as Hell no matter what. Admires your courage in coming out to him and will take your secret to the grave.

Aether: First may I start this off by saying I may or may not have asked Aether, like irl, if he said “trans rights”. To which Aether kindly and genuinely said, “Does [Aether] say “trans rights”? Of course trans rights!” So there you have it Fosters and Peoples. Mr. Quintessential Ghoul himself did indeed say trans rights and I’ve never been happier to have asked someone that. I digress… He’s not gonna focus too much on odd behavior or nerves. It’s not because he’s got his head in the clouds, it’s just because this is a Judgement Free Zone™. If and/or when you come out to him, expect him to say, “Hell yeah, you do what’s right for you!” He’s got your back. If you want help with something, say an outfit or you need a new binder, he’s gonna help you figure it out. If you ask him not to tell anyone else, his lips are sealed. 

Mountain: He is so used to being taller than everyone else so if you’re a short king (like me 5’3 man gang rise up [but not too high]) that does not make him ask any questions. He’s also out of your business when it comes to how you dress, or messing with your shirt, or not wanting to do certain activities, etc. He just… it’s not that he doesn’t care, it’s that he’s chill about everything. So chill in fact that eventually one day you just casually mention it. And he’s like, “Neat, you have lore.” Which is hilarious. He’s probably likely to ask if you’re making sure not to wear your binder for too long. He wants you to take good care of yourself, y’know, you’re really cool and you should treat your body kindly. He’ll ask if anyone else knows and if you tell him you’d rather they not find out immediately, he’s already giving you a thumbs up and making sure any question directed at your gender is immediately shot down.

Swiss: Swiss is too focused on having a good time and being good to everyone who deserves kindness to worry about why or why not you don’t want to go to the pool with them. You’ve got your reasons and that’s enough, although he’ll sorely miss you because he could use the extra help in fending Dew off in the water gun fight that most definitely will end in bloodshed if Aether doesn’t step in. Eventually he’ll convince you to maybe go, but not before you cave and tell him you can’t be seen with your shirt off. He’s smart enough to know what that means. No worries! And you know what? In solidarity he just won’t take his off, either. Will support you regardless of how you choose to present yourself and will sometimes casually gift you a new shirt or something, “because I think you’d look really handsome in it.”

Rain: Tender boy. He literally would not pry or push you to tell him anything you didn’t seem like you wanted to say. If you come out to him, that’s completely on your terms. I think he might eventually have a feeling, but he’s not going to make assumptions about you and will let you tell him when you’re ready, and even if you never do, that’s ok too. When you do tell him, he’s completely supportive and won’t make you feel any less of a man about yourself. Is a bit sad to know that you may struggle with dysphoria and he wants you to know that you’re a wonderful person, inside and out, even if you don’t always see it.

Cirrus: She notices your odd behavior, but she’s polite and chooses not to say anything about it. She doesn’t want to make you feel like she’s judging you or scare you or make you uncomfortable. She probably doesn’t flat out make assumptions about you, but she does think about it occasionally. Eventually when you come out to her, she completely understands. Sings her praises about how nice it is that you trust her enough to tell her something so personal about yourself, and says she’s thankful to have such a great person in her life. Also she’s always been your protective mom friend, but if you need anyone to get punched for saying anything transphobic, just let her know. Mama bear has got you. Mama bear has got claws. Hell, Cumulus will even help beat someone up. She doesn’t even need to know the reason. If Cirrus is verbally or physically abusing someone that’s good enough reason for her. You now have two powerful and protective mom friends, use this power for good.

Cumulus: She’s not gonna notice if you’re acting nervous or weird about anything. She’s focused on hanging out with you and having a good time and making sure you’re having a good time and that fun things are happening. If you go to the beach and don’t take your shirt off, not weird. Neither of you are even in the water, you’re probably making an impressive sand castle on top of a sleeping Mountain. If you’re at the pool, she’s okay with sitting on the side talking your ear off about anything under the sun (which currently includes all the other ghouls as it was a family trip to the pool). She wouldn’t notice if you tugged at your binder or had a higher voice or anything someone might think would be conspicuous. If and/or when you eventually come out to her, she’s like “Ooohhh, okay!” And honestly? She might forget. And then remember. And then forget again, and remember again. It’s just another thing about you, like your hair colour or what music you like. Doesn’t make you any less wonderful to her, and wouldn’t change anything about your relationship.

- @solofreakk

[flipomatic]

Internship Chapter 33: Day 26 - Amity

First Chapter Previous Chapter

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After school ended for the day, Amity went to the library with Luz. They hadn’t spent time just hanging out in a while, since they’d been visiting covens for the last month. There was still one coven left, the healing coven, but Amity felt different about this one. It felt like things would change when they went, like this time spent with Luz might come to an end.

That was silly; Luz wasn’t only hanging out with her because they visited covens. Still though, the thought hovered in the back of Amity’s mind. The nagging fear of being left behind.

Today though, she tried not to think about that. This trip to the library was dedicated to the Azura book series.

Luz had brought all of her books to school in preparation, so she would have them for the discussion. She showed them to Amity while they walked, going into detail about how she acquired each one. They all had different origin stories, which Luz told with gusto. Amity always enjoyed listening to her tales, to the way her eyes sparkled as she spoke.

At the library, they went to Amity’s secret room. She had acquired another chair for it, so she and Luz could sit in there together. Once the two settled down, they dove into conversation about the books.

Amity was enjoying the peace and quiet, but of course that couldn’t last.

She was flipping through the pages of Azura 3, looking for a specific passage, when a magic bird fluttered through the wall. It was small enough to fit in one hand, with bright blue feathers that glowed in the low light.

It fluttered around the room for a moment, drawing the attention of both teens, before settling on the table. Now that it had landed, Amity could see that there was a note tied to one of its legs. The magic bird lifted that leg and chirped.

“Are you expecting a message?” Luz asked, eyes locked on the small creature.

“I’m not.” Amity shook her head, a bad feeling settling into her gut. She stood from her chair to approach the bird, and carefully untied the note from its leg.

Once the note was loose, the bird chirped again and flew away, vanishing back out through the wall.

Amity slowly unrolled the paper, which had to then be unfolded. This was what it said:

Hi Mittens,

Em and I are at the clinic near the market. They won’t let us leave. Please help. Do not tell parents.

-Edric

Amity wasn’t quite sure how to react to that, her first impulse was irritation at the nickname but it was quily followed by worry. Hopefully they weren’t injured too badly.

Ed had mentioned that morning that they had big plans, but she hadn’t thought that included getting injured. For both of them to be hurt, it couldn’t be related to the internship. Or could it, Amity wasn’t sure what to make of this.

Regardless, she hoped they were safe. It was usually Em who took the lead, so for the note to come from Ed meant that she was hurt worse than him. That only increased Amity’s worry.

The clinic by the market wasn’t too far from the library, so if she left now she could be there within fifteen minutes.

Wait, the clinic was part of the healing coven. That was the last one, the only one she hadn’t visited with Luz yet. Regardless of her reservations, it was time to go.

Amity turned back to look at Luz, who had been watching her read the note. “What’s it say?” Luz asked as their eyes met.

“Ed and Em need help. They’re at the healing clinic.” Amity frowned as she looked back down at the note, reading the words again to search for hidden meaning.

Luz closed her book and stood. “Let’s go then.” She said without hesitation. She put her books back into her bag, mouth set in concern as she did. Amity followed suit, stowing her books on the shelf.

Within a minute, they were heading out.

“Have you ever been to the healing coven?” Amity asked as they walked down the sidewalk, side by side. She had never succeeded at casting healing magic. Besides, it wasn’t one of the Blight family approved tracks.

Luz shook her head. “Nope, not yet.” Considering all of the antics Luz got up to, she was lucky to have avoided any serious injuries.

“That’s probably a good thing.” Amity chuckled, remembering her most recent visit. It hadn’t been that long ago, after she fractured her ankle while playing grudgby.

“I’m still excited to see it.” Luz picked up the conversation, kicking at a rock on the sidewalk. “Even though the circumstances aren’t ideal.” That was an understatement.

Amity took the note out of her pocket again. The writing was straight at least, so Ed couldn’t be that badly hurt. That’s what she told herself as they neared the clinic.

It was a single story building, with no fancy decorations on the outside. There was a set of doors at the front, with the word Clinic written above them on a large sign.

The two teens entered, looking around the lobby. Straight ahead of the doors, a witch sat behind a counter. There were a couple doors along the left wall. To the right, in a larger space, there were a few rows of chairs. That must’ve been the waiting room. Amity went straight to the counter.

“How can I help you?” The witch behind the counter asked, glancing between Amity and Luz.

“I’m here to see Edric and Emira Blight.” Amity figured she should ask where they were instead of just trying to search for them.

“Ah yes, they’re expecting you.” The witch glanced down at a binder, eyes skimming over an open page. “Through the door on the left, just down the hall in room 5.”

“Thank you.” Amity stepped away from the counter and walked to the designated door. She pulled it open and entered, with Luz close behind. The hallway ahead was lined with closed doors, each with a number on them.

They only had to walk about ten feet to reach door 5. Amity knocked, to be polite, and was surprised when the door was pulled open.

A witch dressed in the Emperor’s Coven uniform was on the other side. Amity didn’t know this witch; he wasn’t the witch Ed had introduced to her when she visited the coven.

“Your sister’s here.” He turned back into the room, saying that to those present inside.

“See, I told you she’d come.” Ed replied, sounding the same as he usually did.

The coven member stepped away from the door, allowing Amity and Luz to enter. The room was small, just big enough for two beds with a couple chairs between them. The coven member immediately sat in one of those chairs.

Em and Ed were each on one of the beds, both awake and wearing bandages. Ed had his leg and arm wrapped, but otherwise looked unharmed. Em, on the other hand, was wearing a loose shirt and had large bandages wrapped around her waist. Her face was paler than usual, and she was hooked up to an iv. The iv bag was almost empty.

“What happened?” Amity crossed her arms as she looked between them, settling her glare on Ed. He seemed much better equipped to respond.

Ed smirked, an expression that did not calm Amity’s ire. “Just internship things.” He said, drawing a scoff from the Emperor’s Coven member. Amity just raised an eyebrow at Ed, prompting him to continue. He looked over at Em, prompting for her to jump in.

“We got in a fight.” Em said, though that still didn’t help much. “With an Emperor’s Coven member. It’s complicated.” That didn’t make any sense.

Amity must’ve been making the strangest face, since Ed quickly tried to explain. “It was to help Frederick, and we won.” He said that like it justified getting hurt like this.

“That’s so cool.” Luz stepped over to the open chair, taking a seat. “What kind of magic did they use?” She leaned excitedly towards Ed.

“Fire magic.” Ed made an exploding motion with his hands, to represent the fire. “Which, believe it or not, hurts when you touch it.”

Amity lifted one hand to her forehead, trying to gather her thoughts. She stepped over to Em’s bed, leaving Ed and Luz to discuss the magic. “Are you okay?” Amity asked, trying to put aside her confusion for the time being. She sat down at the foot of it, taking a good look at her older sister.

Em seemed to be making a real effort to smile, though she looked even paler up close. Her bandages were white, with no sign of blood seeping through. “I’ll be fine. It’s just a burn.” She gestured at her bandaged side, wincing as she moved.

Amity wondered, if she knew healing magic, would she be able to help her? She wanted to, even if she couldn’t.

“Do you need to stay overnight?”

“I don’t think so, only if Mike detains us.” Em replied, tilting her head slightly towards the Emperor’s Coven member.

Amity’s confusion came right back. “Why would he detain you?” She felt a headache coming on.

“They picked a fight with a well-respected member of the coven.” The coven member, whose name must’ve been Mike, responded dryly. “All of the information has been sent to Kikimora, including the video they took, but until I hear back they are both detained.” That explained why he’d been sitting in the room.

“He was sabotaging Frederick.” Ed cut in, likely having heard what Mike said. “I couldn’t just let things end like that.”

“Yeah, yeah, you already told me.” Mike sounded annoyed, though it was hard to tell how he really felt through the mask.

A knock came at the door, which was then opened by a healing witch. She was carrying a clipboard, and looked surprised when she entered the room.

“I see you have visitors.” The healing witch commented, eyes flicking from Luz to Amity.

Ed nodded, now smirking smugly. “I told you someone would come pick us up.”

The healing witch stepped around the side of Emira’s bed, where the iv was set up, and checked the bag. “You were right.” She said, focused on her work. “Would all visitors mind stepping out for a minute?”

Luz practically jumped out of her chair. “Of course.”

Amity stood as well, following Luz towards the door. The healing witch directed her gaze to Mike, who sighed.

“Fine.” He said, rising to his feet. He was the last out of the room, so he shut the door. He leaned against the wall next to it, arms crossed. Amity figured this hadn’t been the first time he was kicked out of the room.

Luz was looking around the hallway with wide eyes, taking it in now that they weren’t trying to go somewhere. “This place is so impressive; I wish I knew a healing spell.” She said, fingers tapping over the pocket where she kept her glyph paper.

“It is very useful.” Amity thought about her attempts to heal in the past, and how badly those ventures had gone. She moved a couple steps away, and then settled against a different portion of wall. “I’ve never done one either.” She admitted, drawing Luz’s bright brown eyes back to her.

“We can practice together!” Luz practically hopped over to her, clearly excited at the prospect.

Amity couldn’t help but smile at her. “I’d like that.” To keep doing things together with Luz, like she had been for the last month, was a much better prospect than any of the covens they visited. Healing magic could be the route, or at least the starting point, that kept them together. “Thanks for coming with me today, I know this wasn’t how you planned to spend the afternoon.”

Luz reached forward and took one of Amity’s hands in her own, drawing a flush of hot red to Amity’s cheeks. “I wanted to.” She said, gently and softly, eyes locked on Amity’s. Amity thought her heart would beat out of her chest as she fought to keep her hand from shaking.

A beeping sound distracted her from the conversation, which was coming from Mike. Luz let go of her hand to look over as well. He took a small object out of his pocket, flipping it open and holding it up in front of his face. “Ma’am.” He said to the device.

A familiar voice came out of it, just loud enough for Amity to understand. “We have finished interrogating Nick. Starting tomorrow a full investigation will be done into his conduct.” That was Kikimora’s voice; Amity was certain. “You may release the Blight twins.”

“Yes Ma’am.” Mike said briskly, before closing the device.

This was good news; it looked like Amity might actually get to take the twins home. They still needed to be cleared by the healing witch, but at least they wouldn’t be detained.

“Ed told me they fought an abomination too.” Luz picked the conversation back up as if nothing had changed. “It was huge, but they tricked him into hitting it.”

“They always were good at that.” Amity said with a small shake of her head.

The two talked a bit longer, about the battle and the story Ed told, until the door to the room opened once again.

“When they’re ready, bring them up to the front to sign out.” The healing witch said as she walked out, directing the comment at all three of them.

“Thank you.” Amity was the first to step back into the room. Ed was on his feet, though he looked slightly unstable. Em had fresh bandages on her wounds, with more color to her cheeks than before. She was still sitting on the bed, though with her legs over the side and feet on the ground.

Mike was just a step behind Amity. “You’re being released.” He said, drawing a fist pump from Ed. “Try not to cause any more trouble.” With those words he turned to leave, brushing past Luz and down the hallway.

“Can you handle that Ed?” Em asked in a lilting tone, rising slowly to her feet.

“Might have to break it a few times, just to make sure.” Ed laughed, though Amity didn’t find it nearly as funny.

“Let’s go you two.” She gestured at the door. Both of her siblings moved slower than usual, but they made it out to the front. The witch at the counter gave them both tubes of cream, to be applied on the burns for the next couple weeks.

They then signed out, and the whole crew went outside.

Luz parted ways with them in front of the clinic. “Let’s meet up tomorrow to finish book club, see you back at the library at noon!” She had said, which Amity agreed to do, before walking away.

As Amity turned her back on the healing coven, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to join it. Right now though, there were more pressing matters.

Now Amity had to walk the twins home, and also figure out just how they intended to hide this whole incident from their parents. It wasn’t going to be possible, of that she was sure.

Next Chapter

[spikemelikeavolleyball]

ii : rules ( part one ) ( high low )

high low ; miya atsumu x fem! reader

i. ii. iii. iv. v. [masterlist.]

───── ❝ high low ❞ ─────

[name] [surname] was off limits--

except miya atsumu finds himself

flirting with danger and becoming

rapidly addicted to the sparks between

them.

what osamu doesn’t know won’t

kill him. will it?

───── ❝ high low ❞ ─────

 tags; mafia au, sexual content,

violence, strong  language, blood,

gore.

this chapter: a time skip of about

four months, alcohol, mentions of

domestic abuse, strong language,

guns, a POV switch.

note: i decided to do the twins’ accent

how the southern us does; sometimes

they talk properly and without it, but

when they’re excited or angry, it flips

a switch.

───── ❝ high low ❞ ─────

two ; rules ( part one )

Miya Osamu had four rules that--at any given time--you had to follow as if your life depended on it. And sometimes, with the people he was around, or the people who visited him, it usually was. He had never given you a real reason why you should follow these rules, or why you were such a high risk case that you actually needed rules, but you knew he had a gun under his pillow, under the couch cushions, hidden in a drawer in the kitchen, even one in the bathroom.

He had pointed them out to you with a flat expression, that night he had taken you to his apartment after Akaashi and Kou had cleared you, and you weren’t able to argue or even ask why he was showing them to you. He had given you a very crude crash course in how to load and shoot it, but had forced you into bed right after, shoving you between him and his bedroom wall.

You didn’t ask what that was about, either.

The rules had been written down on a piece of paper that Osamu had ripped out of the back of a book. His handwriting was neat and printed, or as neat as it could be when he was writing it down like a man in a frenzy, and spelled out for numbers with four rules.

In your head, they sounded simple. Easy, even.

One: Don’t go out alone.

Easy, you thought, reciting the rule to him with a cracked voice.

Two: Keep a weapon on you at all times.

A switchblade was easy to hide, you had quipped jokingly, but he seemed to have taken you seriously.

Three: Always be aware of your surroundings,

You almost felt like he was drilling you in secret service rules. You even told him as much. He ignored you and shoved a plate of tuna onigiri in front of you.

His final, and most important rule, was what had left you stumped. Even four months later, you couldn’t understand why he was so adamant that you follow that rule down to the letter, even going as far as to warn you if you were at risk of breaking it.

Four: Never, ever let Miya Atsumu know you existed.

“A magazine spread is fine,” Osamu told you after you had gotten comfortable with your back against the wall, clutching his ridiculous onigiri plushie against your chest to hide the bruises on your collarbone. “But you can’t meet him in person. Please, [Name].”

“Okay,” you had promised. Your eyes were so heavy that you would have agreed to anything he had asked if you could just go to sleep. “I promise, ‘Samu.”

“Good.”

Now, as you sat at Osamu’s kitchen island, fork frozen halfway to your mouth and with arms that clearly weren’t Osamu’s wrapped around your waist, watching tattoo adorned fingers dance with the fabric of your shirt, you knew you had already broken that rule and it wasn’t even your fault.

It was Osamu’s.

🇾​🇪​🇸​🇹​🇪​🇷​🇩​🇦​🇾​…

“Congratulations.” Ushijima, Akana graced you with a wide smile as she closed the plastic binder on her desk, hiding the glossy full frontals from your wide eyes. Your name, printed neatly on the cover, was as foreboding as it was a blessing. “You’ve made it, [Name]. You’re now the official face of Wisteria’s lingerie line.”

“This is crazy,” you blurted, much to the older woman’s immense amusement. Four months ago, you wouldn’t have expected you would be here, much less as a model. “I mean, not that I’m not thankful for the opportunity, Ushijima-san, but--”

“You weren’t expecting it,” she finished, her red lipstick a dagger against the harsh white paint of her office walls. Akana nodded in understanding. “That’s alright. I know you weren’t. That’s why I chose you, out of all the other girls--for your humbleness. It helps that Wakatoshi likes working with you.”

Your face flushed red at the mention of the woman’s son. While Ushijima Wakatoshi was a good friend of yours, he didn’t really like modeling for his mother unless it was for volleyball. It didn’t stop her from wheedling him into a couple of shots with you one evening in Rio, while he was free from his volleyball career for a few weeks, while you were wearing close to nothing but scraps of lace. That had been embarrassing. His words, however, hadn’t been.

“You shouldn’t be embarrassed,” he had told you, hoisting you up onto his shoulder at his mother’s command. You had rested your hand on the opposite shoulder to keep your balance, Akana exclaiming that was the perfect pose and for you to be still. “I helped you train to get back into shape. You should be proud of it.”

Needless to say, the both of you had been plastered all over several different lingerie magazines and billboards, but it didn’t just stop there--the volleyball papers and fandoms were excited to have your face next to Ushijima’s too, and gushed about it for months afterwards. While it didn’t stop the fangirls from flooding your profile with jealousy ridden hate, his teammates loved to needle you for it endlessly, and tease Ushijima, although he didn’t really understand why it was so exciting that he was in another magazine.

“I just… After that whole scandal, I didn’t think I was even up for the position,” you admitted. Akana’s face softened, but only slightly.

“If it had escalated further, you might not have been,” she confessed, taking a sip of her coffee. “But that was then, and this is now. You have a couple of weeks of vacation before you have to fly to Paris for fashion week. I’d suggest you fly home to Japan, steal some moments with your friends, and take some time to relax.”

Your mouth fell open. “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.” Akana smiled. “Although, Wakatoshi did profess an interest in having you watch one of his games. It was one of the more larger motivators for me giving you so much time off.”

“Ushijima knows I like watching his games,” you laughed, recalling his blunt question as to why you were at all of his games when you were usually at work. “I might not know much about it, but I enjoy the excitement and tension in the air.”

Akana smiled, then, this time wider. “Then you better get going. Your flight leaves at six tomorrow.”

By six the next morning, you were on your way to Japan--but not before having Miya Osamu call you an hour before your flight, sounding winded and like he had run a couple blocks.

“You’re coming home?” he questioned, tone full of surprise and shock. “Yer not pullin’ my leg?”

You giggled at his accent slip, tossing your copious amounts of luggage onto the conveyor belt. “No, ‘Samu, I’m not pulling your leg. I really get to come home, although I was wanting to  keep it a surprise… Who told you?”

“Sayaka,” he said, as if that explained everything. And it did; after that night, it was like the two of them were best friends--best friends in having your back in everything you did, at least. Kuroo thought it was hilarious how they argued. “I’m glad ya get to come home.”

“Me too.” You smiled, even though he couldn’t see it. “So, how’s college going? You fell asleep before I could ask you last night.”

“It’s the same. Between opening the shop and studying for exams, I’ve been pretty busy.” He paused, then, and spoke to someone who was most likely standing beside him. “Yeah, yeah. Gotta go. Stay safe on yer flight.”

“Aye-aye captain,” you said, right before you were swarmed by paparazzi. You hung up your phone and sunk backwards behind your bodyguards, who held your purse and coat with them.

This was going to be a long, long flight.

[squeezeofthehand]

A (late) Review of Moby-Dick: A Musical Reckoning

I saw Moby-Dick: A Musical Reckoning by Dave Malloy last month, and I can basically divide it into “The Good, The Bad, and the Racist/Queerphobic/Ableist etc”

Some background: As most people who’ve ever spoken to me will know, I have a special interest in Moby-Dick AND Dave Malloy/Rachel Chavkin musicals (I truly believe that Great Comet is one of the best works of all time) and I consider Malloy and Chavkin both to be my biggest heroes and inspirations, at least when it comes to their respective style of writing and directing. That being said, they’re not perfect. I waited for this musical for about two years, and music/set/etc wise it exceeded my expectations, but it also majorly let me down in a lot of ways.

The Good: The cast! The crew! The set! (It was literally The Pequod - like, they got rid of the stage.) The lighting design in particular was really good - thank you, Bradley King. Manik Choksi, Andrew Cristi, and Starr Busby are gods. I do not have a singular bad thing to say about the cast or the design team! Even the stuff that was tacky/campy (i.e. some of the puppets) was tacky/campy in an enjoyable way. And the “fun” parts of the show were REALLY fun - the fact that they invited the audience on stage, the fact that they TRIED to make Moby-Dick more accessible even if they didn’t do it perfectly at times….the music, when not problematic, was BEAUTIFUL. Listen, I’d be lying if I said Dave Malloy wasn’t one of the best composers when it comes to skill. Everyone in that show sure can act, and sing…the band too, was marvelous, I heard no errors from anyone. This is, what, a three hour long show? And the cast/band was just like, “oh, no big deal.” Which makes “the bad” and “the racist” even worse because these people deserve better. This show deserves better, it deserves to be better.

The Bad: Well, as a book fan, I disagreed with a lot of characterization…most of which can fall into The Racist etc, so I’ll just focus on the “bad but not inherently problematic” here. I really didn’t agree with a lot of things about Ahab’s characterization, i.e. I did not read him as just a bad white guy who’s the epitome of privilege. Stubb, on the other hand is, a canon white supremacist in the book and that barely gets acknowledged in the ways that it should. I do get what Dave was trying to go for, especially in re: Ahab & climate change, but this wasn’t the show for it - or at least, Ahab wasn’t the character for it. Which brings me to my next point: Most of the time, I’m a fan of the quirky Malloyian anachronisms and parallels to modern day issues, but I feel like he was trying too hard here and stepping out of line. Loose adaptations can be fun, anachronistic adaptations can be fun, even INACCURATE adaptations can be fun…but this just wasn’t. It didn’t feel like Moby-Dick, but more like a story vaguely inspired by it. If that had been what he was going for, it would’ve been fine, but he really acted like this would be an accurate adaptation of the book, so I felt let down. The only anachronism/breaking of the fourth wall that I somewhat liked were the talks of Melville and Hawthorne, honestly, and even those I’d sacrifice in favor for accuracy to the source.

And now…The racist/etc.

So. 

Where to begin? I suppose chronologically. Queequeg. Who, according to Dave Malloy, is a stereotypical flamboyant queer person of color! and also a quirky cannibal! He’s trans in the musical, apparently, but there’s not much indication of that in the show beyond from him wearing a binder and a skirt. Now, I am all for trans Queequeg of course, but he was a caricature in this particular adaptation. I do not blame Andrew Cristi. I blame Dave (and mayyyybe the costume designers to some extent). I felt baited. Also, early production rumors and quotes said that there would be a song in which Queequeg saved someone from drowning. That never happened. It pains me to say it, but he didn’t feel that much like an important character (due to the bad writing -- again, it has nothing to do with the actor). 

Additionally, Dave Malloy said that Queequeg and Ishmael would be a clear gay relationship…but the musical left so much room for them to just be interpreted as friends. It somehow became less gay than it is in the original Melville novel. The marriage was excluded, as were the quotes about them being a cozy and loving pair and about Queequeg holding Ishmael like a wife. They were replaced with the “I don’t wanna sleep with a cannibal” song, which was fun to watch at first but way too grossly stereotypical for me to genuinely enjoy it. Queequeg deserves a fun and light-hearted song, but he does not deserve a racist/homophobic one. My advice? Replace it with the actual chapters from the book, please. I do like the fact that The Pacific was a romantic duet and that they sing directly at each other during Squeeze Of The Hand, but those two songs are mere scraps especially compared to, for example, the Bosom Friend chapter of the book. It looked like they were going to kiss during The Pacific and I was very disappointed that they did not. Perhaps the team should keep the songs the way that they are for future productions, but add more romantic staging.

Pip-not-Pip/Elijah/??? (Ashkon Davaran’s character) and Fedallah were also major, major, issues. Not the actors, I love them. Not the book characters, I love them. But the musical characters.

Basically, Fedallah gets this 20 minute long monologue that can be summed up as “religion is bad” and a lot of other things including but not limited to egotistical fake-woke praise on color conscious casting and how badly America is fucked. And that’s not even mentioning the fact that Fedallah is Parsi and Zoroastranian in the book (and it is NOT good rep in the book by any means, trust me, I’ve been calling Malloy out on his racism but I can’t act as if book!Fedallah was anything less than an ~exotic caricature~ either). However, that’s beside the point, at least in this review. Musical!Fedallah is not Parsi nor Zoroastranian. Don’t read this the wrong way, I’m all for Black Muslim rep! But with a character who is already canonically something else? Take a white character and make them a Black Muslim, I encourage that, but when a character is already something else, no.

If the monologue was influenced/written by the actor, that’s one thing and I’d have less issue with it, but I think Dave wrote the vast majority of it, which…yikes…

My constructive criticism: Cut the Fedallah monologue. If the creative team still wants the actor/character to have the same amount of stage-time as he does now, replace it with a different monologue, maybe something from the book? Something about whaling history?

Another thing that needs to be cut or at least completely rewritten: Tambourine. The song starts off with an ableist verse that can be summed up as “you think you’re crazy because you get nervous on the subway? No! I’m more crazy than you!” Don’t take this as me saying that Pip’s trauma/PTSD shouldn’t be addressed at all, but this is the absolute worst way to address it. The song also has a lot of performative lines such as “is god cisgender?” Which, considering this is the same musical that also has trans bait, I truly hate it. Not that I think God should ever be viewed as a cis white man, but much like the “America is awful” stuff in the Fedallah Monologue, this is an offensive and fake-woke way to address such a topic. 

Part IV was really heart-wrenchingly beautiful. No criticism there.

To summarize by part-

Part I: Cut/replace the campy Queeqeug song, but otherwise keep it as it is.

Part II: Cut/replace the racist and xenophobic Fedallah monologue.

Part III: Cut/replace Tambourine. The rest of the Ballad Of Pip (starting with Kim Blanck’s beautiful song) is alright. Good, even.

Part IV: Great! No editing needed besides from the typical tweaking that writers may choose to do after their first draft.

In general: Make Ishmael/Queequeg more obvious, make Queequeg less of a caricature, do some major editing to Fedallah and Pip-Not-Pip/Elijah/???. Tambourine and Fedallah’s Monologue need to be completely rewritten, but I get that the creative team may not want to take scenes away from the actors, which is why I encourage them to remove all of the racist bs and create something completely new/different for the actors to perform. 

I understand that Moby-Dick is clearly a work-in-progress on all levels. I do not dislike for the show for being a scrappy rough draft. I judge it for its racist, homophobic, ableist, etc messages. Dave has acknowledged that this first copy is far from perfect, and I sincerely hope that the racism/etc. is the first and main thing that he fixes. 

[sugoi--sushi-blog]

Here's the Tea🍵

Please read this till the end before you judge it!!

I came out as ftm transgender about 4-5 years ago.

I thought that me hating my body and hating how everything looked wrong, was dysphoria.

Ive been to therapists and counselors, but not for my dysphoria.

My parents and family treated me like shit.

When my friend Carter came out as trans, he was the first in our group. And I do in fact believe he is ftm transgender, he's a boy, I know it deeply in my heart and I trust him.

Shortly after Carter came out.

Ethan came out

At first he thought he was Genderfluid, cool whatever, ya know?

Then I related to their struggles of hating their bodies, I did some research (not much, mostly just going to Pinterest and looking at pictures of different identities and genders.

And I related to Agender/Non Binary

Now this was during when the whole gender thing wasn't blown out of proportion. Trans-trenders existed but weren't as commonly known as far as I could tell.

Shortly after, I struggled and believed I was incorrect about being NB, and thought I was a ftm trans male.

Then Ethan came out as ftm transgender.

Then his twin came out as non binary.

Fast forward 3 or 4 years.

We have a few more friends, we met at cons or pride. I was beginning to question myself more than the usual dysphoria.

Our friend Grey, who always has perfect makeup, never discussed dysphoria, nothing that could que you into them being anything other than a girl.

They always announced they were proud to be a girl and wore (so super cute) dresses and skirts (I'm legit jealous)

Now, this isn't me hating on my friend or anything. I still respect them.

But has anyone heard the new saying, "the gays gather", like we all group up?

Like its cool! Support team of people understanding.

But 98% of our group, wasn't cis, and out of 12+ people that's pretty crazy.

What I'm trying to say

Is that I think some people are romanticized, relating, or using being in the LGBT+ community as an escape.

Like a coping mechanism.

Wanna know why I think that?

Because I (and many others) had very very low confidence or other underlying problems, I related to those who came out and told their story.

How they felt.

What they went through as a child.

What they're going through now.

Etc

I dressed masculine, I went by Jeremy and then Holden

I used he/him pronouns

I have always had short hair and I've always thought "Since I've always been such a tom boy, this makes sense!"

It felt right

But it also felt wrong

I couldn't figure out why, I thought it was just my dysphoria talking.

It wasn't until the last few months of my senior year (I graduated this year, 2019) that I noticed I genuinely enjoyed dressing androgynously or just super cute in general

Baby blues, pastel ya know all that

I didn't mind when people called me they/them

I thought, hmm, maybe I'm non binary?

I let that sit for a while

Now I have a boyfriend I met about a month after graduating, and he respected my gender identity, because he's a good egg

Anyways, I told him about my possible doubts and that maybe it was just my dysphoria talking

It wasn't until I hurt myself by wearing my binder too long that he encouraged me to wear a sports bra during my work shift because I worked 'behind scenes' anyways and I have to wear cook clothes and it would be beneficial to my health. I finally bought a sports bra

I found one thats kinda concealing and almost had the same shape as a binder so I thought it was perfect

But that hurt me too

My ribs were bruised, my lungs aches, I was short of breath, etc etc

((Man I'm so sorry if you're reading this and you're just confused because I definitely didn't plan my life story out and uhhhhhh its all over the place))

He did some research and suggested I just take a week long break from my binder. I didn't have many hours scheduled at work, so it was a good time to just stay at home

After all that, I questioned myself more about my gender

I recently purchased a pink tutu cuz I thought it was cute

I wore that so often, just around my house

I thought I was so cute oh my goodness

I questioned more

My boyfriend brought up his Theory to me, his theory about how all my past abuse, neglect, and overall bad childhood, my lack of confidence, depression and anxiety, possibly played a role in why I believed I was trans

He was terrified to tell me, he thought I would get pissed at him and break up with him

But everything he told me

Was exactly how I felt and completely accurate.

He wasn't pressuring me to change or anything, but I took what he said as motivation to experiment and figure out who I am

A few months later I can confidently say that I am a woman, and all I needed was confidence and support

Now, I've gained so much confidence through my experimenting

I feel so good, and beautiful

It feels so nice (((:

A few days ago, a video popped up on my boyfriends YouTube, it said "Hundreds of Transgender People Trying to Return to Birth Gender" (or something similar)

We watched the video (which was just a dude reading the article)

There are 'ex-trans' people trying to save money to detransition.

Their mental health and physical health problems led them to believe they were transgender

I believe people are being romanticized into believing they are part of the LGBT+ community

Cis people saying "only women can do that" or "since you like to do (masculine thing) you must be trans!", is very hurtful!!

My name is Genevieve, and welcome to my Ted Talk

Please message me your thoughts!!!!

[macbookpro-hard-drive]

control [jeremy h. x squipped!reader] pt.3

did you know that tumblr no longer has those lil.. lines that i liked to separate my notes from my fic with? i didnt. until now. unbelievable.

SO NOW I HAVE TO SUPPLY MY OWN and hopefully this is fine

anyway. ive been... dead for a while. summer destroyed all motivation to do Anything, but ive been forcing myself to write on and off and this part feels... shorter than it should be, but

anyway! i am alive! i have plans! i have things to write! some of them are never going to be on this blog bc theyre original works, but im always open to talk abt them skdfhdsfh

warnings: uhhhhhhh vague manipulation, and i think thats it? just general. squip. yea.

         The last time you had seen Michael Mell as a friend had been the beginning of sophomore year. He and Jeremy sat on either side of you in his basement, clutching controllers and halfheartedly playing video games. Soda went untouched and unopened, snacks left alone, and too many times had Jeremy lost on games he knew like the back of his hand. The air had been stiff and uncomfortable, and the feeling had seeped into your nerves and bones to make your stomach turn at the thought of staying longer. Jeremy wasn’t quite there, and Michael was trying too hard to be extra present to make up for it. He became doting on the two of you - quick to refill a snack bowl that had barely been touched with Jeremy following him out of the basement. That was when you found your phone and called your parents, asking if they could come pick you up - bullshitting some excuse about how you felt sick. When Michael came down, he saw you packing up your things with a half-assed apology and a shitty acting job before you tore up the stairs and nearly rammed into Jeremy in the process. Your chest had tightened as you pushed past him with a quick apology and went to wait on the front steps outside for your mom to come get you.

          That had been the beginning of the end. After that day, Jeremy had slowly stopped talking to you almost completely. Michael had tried to patch things up, to keep things going, and then he just stopped abruptly. To make things worse, you had broken down at school a few weeks after everything went silent, because you’d been alone. You wiped at your face roughly with the sleeve of your hoodie, and left the bathroom. Barely seconds after you had turned the corner to head to class, you ran straight into him - headphones on and head down - only for his gaze to find yours the moment you stumbled back. He opened his mouth to speak, and you stumbled through a rough, shitty apology before you pushed past him and onward to your class. And then you avoided him purposefully, not wanting to address that little moment of weakness you had.

          And now you were sitting in front of him, eyes red and tears streaming down your cheeks as you struggled to find your voice. Your back pressed into cold metal, the lockers clanging behind you as you pulled away and tried to say something, anything to explain yourself. But Michael just stared at you, uncertain about what to say to you. Your legs were like stone, almost as if something was keeping you from darting away, from finding a safer place to land and cry and get over the tears forced from your body.

          “[y/n]?” Michael finally said, still staring at you. The lights overhead gleamed off his glasses and headphones as he pulled them down and around his neck, music loud enough for you to hear. He gave you a quick once-over, his attention now fully on you. “You okay?”

          You went to nod only for another sob to overtake you instead. “I don’t know why I’m crying,” you admitted after a moment, voice shaking and broken. And it was sort-of true.

          “Are you sure?” He said, “hey, I, uh, I know I sorta stopped talking to you and that was kinda shitty but... I’m still here if you need someone to talk to, alright?” After a moment, he tacked on another thought, “do you need a ride home?”

         Immediately, you didn’t want to say yes. It didn’t feel right to. But you’re already nodding before you can debate anything further. “Yeah,” you said slowly at first, reaching up and wiping at your eyes. Realization hit you quick. Your bag. “Shit.”

         “What’s wrong?”

         “I, uh, kinda left my bag in the auditorium.” You hesitated to step away - you didn’t really want to go back and make an excuse to leave, to let anyone see you with puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “Michael... can you-”

         “On it,” he gave you a small, two-finger salute, “I’ll be back in a sec!”

         As Michael took off down the hallway, you felt a pit develop in your stomach while he disappeared around the corner. Nothing felt right. You looked around for a moment, acutely aware of how silent everything had gone. When your SQUIP materialized in front of you, you avoided its gaze as you wrapped your arms tighter around yourself for a moment. The world felt a little colder, a little dimmer, and everything was off. The sound of Michael’s approaching footsteps minutes later played the steady beat for your incoming guilt-induced breakdown, and yet the boy smiled at you - as if nothing was wrong. Maybe that was because it looked like nothing was wrong. The strap of your bag was tossed over his shoulder, bouncing against his own backpack, and yet he looked at you like you were still friends.

        “Thanks,” you finally said as you reached for your bag.

        Michael stepped back, “I’ve got it,” he said with a smile, “don’t worry.”

       You let your arm fall back to your side, only to then shove your hands into your pockets. “Thanks,” you said, avoiding eye contact for a moment.

       The walk to Michael’s car was mostly quiet, with concerned glances thrown your way every now and then - that, when you caught then, were met with insecure smiles at the situation he’d been pulled into. Which.... frankly, threw you off a bit. Michael had always been the one who was better with all this feelings shit - you and Jeremy had the unhealthy habit of bottling everything up. And now Michael walked in step with you, still warm as ever - and still wearing that damn red hoodie you swore he showered in, but it still made you smile because of course Michael still took good care of it. When you hesitated for half a step upon seeing his P.T. Cruiser, he looked back at you before you shot him an uneasy smile and continued towards the passenger side. One of his moms must have given it to him - whether for his birthday or as a gift for passing his driver’s test, you weren’t sure. But the seats were still well-worn, a Pac-Man sticker stuck on the head-rest of the driver’s seat that Michael had stuck there when bored out of his mind. It was worn with age, like you’d expect it to be, but you suppressed a small smile at the fact it was still there.

      If the walk to Michael’s car had been quiet (with the occasional snippit of Michael saying something about how he still feels bad about what happened between the three of you, or about how he’s kinda sorry about the walk to the back of the parking lot) then the ride to your house was dead silent. Music flooded through the car speakers, Michael’s phone resting in your lap due to him pushing it in your direction and telling you to play whatever you want, and his attention was fully on the road - the sound of his phone’s GPS spitting out directions every so often to guide him. You watched out the window, a small sense of dread resting in your stomach the entire way, and for some reason... you felt sick.

      When the car started to roll to a stop, Michael reached up and turned the music down. “Hey, uh, you still have my number, right?”

      You blinked at him for a moment, before pulling out your phone. “I, uh, think so?” You opened your contacts, flipping through them, “I don’t think I deleted it or anything-”

      “Good,” he smiled at you, “if you ever wanna hang out, I’m, uh, pretty free since Jeremy’s busy with this whole.. play... thing.” He paused for a moment, only to follow it up quickly with “I mean if you aren’t doing anything, since - I dunno, you aren’t apart of the cast so-”

      “Okay,” you cut him off, “yeah, sure - I’m only painting the set for it, so... I’ll probably try to do that during lunch.”

      “I, uh,” he began, nodding towards your jacket, “I like your pin. Have you ever played the old shit?” When you shook your head, he was filled with excitement. “Dude. You have to come over then. I’ve got the classic Zelda stuff if you wanna play.”

      Running a hand through your hair, you just sort-of nodded in response as you opened the car door, swinging your bag over your shoulder. “Thanks for the ride, Michael.”

      You closed the car door, taking a few steps back as he pulled off and drove away, before you turned and head up to your house - pausing to notice your parent’s cars were missing. Right. Letting your bag fall down to your elbow, you began to fish through it to find your keys tucked away in the bottom of your bag, and you nearly sent the contents of your bag spilling when you went to pull it back to your shoulder. But with lightning reflexes that weren’t your own, you managed to snap into action and pull it shut before anything could spill - and when you looked up, your SQUIP was standing before you.

      Huh. “... Thank you?” You zipped your bag back up, letting yourself into your house.

      “You should stick to hanging out with Michael,” your SQUIP said, watching you head into your bedroom

      Dropping your backpack onto your bed, you shrugged at the idea as you began to search for your homework. “I mean, sure, he’s still a cool guy-”

      “Michael is close to Jeremy,” it said, as if the fact wasn’t obvious, “therefore, if you get closer to Michael, you’ll get closer to Jeremy.”

      You stopped. “Isn’t that using Michael?”

      “You were friends with him before. It’s rekindling your friendship that just so happens to mean you’ll rekindle something with Jeremy.” It said, “you aren’t manipulating him.”

      You shook your head, setting one binder down and searching for another. “I don’t really like this,” you said, “I don’t want do hurt Michael or anything-”

      “Why would you be hurting him by being friends with him?”

      Thinking it over, you finally nod a little. “... I guess you’re right,” you looked down at the textbook in your hands. “It just feels wrong-”

      “Don’t feel, [y/n],” it stepped beside you, turning your head to meet it’s steely gaze. “Just listen. I’m here to help you.”

      Reluctantly, you nod. “... Right.”

      So you did. The next day, Rich fell into step beside you - inviting you to stop acting like a loner and to sit with him and Jake and the rest of his friends. You debated taking him up on the offer for a moment, only to spot Michael sitting alone in a corner of the cafeteria. You declined immediately, not looking back as you crossed the room to join Michael. That became your routine - sliding into a seat near Michael, talking about video games and whatnot, and occasionally letting the topic slip to Jeremy as Michael had the habit of occasionally venting about the boy.

       “I mean,” he started one day, pointing a fork in your direction, “you remember how he is. He’s just... so in love with her,” he shook his head, “and, I mean, yeah, it’s Christine, but he could, y’know... not abandon me every day.”

      You nodded, “I’m sure he’s just blinded by his crush, Michael.”

      He nodded, stabbing into his burrito bowl, “I know...” He trailed off, looking away for a moment, “I just... he’s excited about this and - and that’s great! He’s actually sort-of talking to Christine!” He smiled back at you, “every time he talks about her, he gets that stupid look on his face. He practically has heart eyes, [y/n].” He paused for half a beat, “but... y’know, I can’t blame him. He keeps talking about how she’s been helping him with his lines, and that she’s so passionate about theatre...”

      You couldn’t help but smile a little at that. From your limited interactions with Christine, she seemed to be a complete sweetheart. No wonder Jeremy liked her.

      “In time, he’ll like you more.” It nudged it’s way in between your thoughts, “as long as you do what I tell you to. I’ve got a plan-”

      Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you busied yourself with your lunch. “Sure, buddy.”

      The stern silence that responded to your tone spoke volumes. But like a knife through butter, Michael’s voice washed away the slight tension you’d begun to feel: “hey, do you still draw?”

      You perked up at the question, turning your full attention back to Michael, answering with a far-too chipper “yes!” You immediately forced yourself to calm down, “yeah, I, uh, I still do. My art’s changed a lot, though,” you kind-of smiled, “I have a, uh, pretty decent following online now. I’m just glad I get to do what I love.”

      Snagging his phone from his pocket, Michael went silent for a moment as he opened up his tumblr app. “There’s this artist that Jeremy and I discovered - they seem really fucking cool, dude, and they seem like someone you’d like-”

      And then you were met with your own artwork, tagged with your online alias, and you had to resist the urge to immediately spill that he’d found you online after you remade your account. You could feel your SQUIP’s fingers gripping your shoulder, and you bit your tongue as you nodded, giving some half-hearted answer about how they seem cool, sure, before wondering why it had stopped you from saying anything.

      You didn’t address it until later. Halfway through your homework, you looked up and pushed yourself away from your desk. “Hey.” You spoke aloud. 

      Within seconds, your SQUIP proceeded to materialize in front of you. “You’re speaking aloud-”

      “I know,” you said with a hand wave, “my parents are still out. What was up with that earlier?”

      “You shouldn’t go around saying things-”

      “But it’s Michael,” you refuted, “I trust him. Besides - wouldn’t telling him that get me closer to Jeremy?”

      It’s cold gaze made you shrink under pressure. “I have a plan. [y/n]. If you want to get Jeremy, you have to obey.”

      “What about what I want?” You forced yourself to stand your ground, staring at the figure before you, “what if I want to do things differently?”

      “You bought me for a reason.” It crossed its arms, watching you, “this is what you want, though. That’s why I’m here: to help you get what you want. And what you want is Jeremy. I’m going to help you get Jeremy, but I can’t do that if you don’t trust me, [y/n].”

      Pressing your lips together, you mustered up a weak nod. Right. “Sorry,” you finally said, “I just - I’m scared it’s not going to work.”

       “It will.” 

        When Michael invited you over the next day, you were more than happy to take him up on the offer. He began to reason it as well, Jeremy’s at play practice, before he ended up dropping the facade and admitting he still kind-of missed you and that it’d been a while since he’d kicked your ass at video games (and, fuck, the glimmer in his eyes when he said that was enough to make you agree, and you realized in that moment just how much you actually missed Michael). So he drove you to his house, letting you take complete control of the music, and then he left you in the basement to find any games you’d be interested in while he grabbed some snacks from the kitchen.

       While the two of you played, you talked idly when the situation would allow it. About anything. About everything. About trips Michael had taken with his moms, about his and Jeremy’s brand new Halloween tradition of watching horror movies - usually the shittier ones - and gorging on candy, about how your parents always seemed so busy (and almost immediately Michael offered up his house for whenever you didn’t want to be alone, and you melted a little at the offer). The entire time, the room felt too quiet, even among the conversation and the music of each game. At first, you thought it was because Jeremy was missing. Things didn’t feel right without him. But it hit you, right as you were laughing at something Michael said.

       “Hey!” Michael brightened up at his idea, “you should join us.” When you looked over, slightly confused, he continued, “the, uh, Halloween thing? You should join our marathon.” 

       You faltered for a moment, looking down at your controller. Your voice isn’t your own as you speak, saying some sort of confirmation that felt too distant for it to be you. The guilt built within you, as you pushed yourself to hide the feeling while turning your attention back to the game, back to beating Michael this round. But the thought lingered.

       You were using Michael Mell.

[a-dragons-drabbles]

Trans Lance Part 16

Lance’s excitement is beginning to turn to nerves as he sits on a hovering hospital bed dressed in a fancy alien hospital gown that is fully equipped to monitor his vitals. He reaches out a slightly clammy hand to hold Keith’s while one of the alien nurses explains the aftercare process to Lance, Keith, and Coran to make sure that Lance’s chest will heal without any complications.

Keith smiles soothingly at Lance in one of the rare instances where he actually shows emotions in front of people he has just met. Lance takes a deep breath then returns the smile.

He isn’t sure why he is so nervous. This is something he’s looked forward to for most of his life. This should be the biggest relief he’s ever felt but instead his mind is full of anxiety and his stomach swirls with uneasiness. This will be a huge change in his life and changes are scary even when it’s a good change. Lance’s tirade of anxious thoughts is interrupted when Lurox asks him a question.

“Sorry, could you please repeat that.” Lance says with a sheepish smile. He puts his nerves aside when he hears Keith snicker quietly beside him. Lurox smiles down at the blue paladin with the grace of a man who puts up with nervous patients daily. Coran cuts Lurox off before he can repeat the question for Lance.

“My boy, he is asking if you are ready for your surgery.” Coran says while beaming at his favorite of the paladins. Lance feels his heart slip a beat and for a moment he fears that this isn’t real and he’ll wake up in a moment and be back on the castle ship in his bed, only to find this had all been a dream. He takes a deep breath and pushes the doubtful thoughts away then nods his head. “I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.” He says and beams brightly up at Coran.

“Excellent! Lurox, the boy is ready!” Coran chirps in an over exuberant voice which turns some of Lance’s nervous energy back into excitement. Lurox nods and leaves the room with a quick goodbye before going to wash up and change into a sterile gown and pair of gloves so he can perform Lance’s surgery.

The same nurse who had explained the aftercare process steps up to administer the anesthesia to Lance. She expertly inserts an iv into Lance’s arm in much the same way a nurse would on earth. Lance finds he can’t feel the tube or needle at all which is an improvement from the discomfort that earth medical equipment is usually accompanied by.

Lance finds himself seeking out Keith’s face as a sort of comfort as his mind begins to grow foggy and his senses dull. He clumsily reaches out a hand toward the red paladin who quickly takes Lance’s hand into his own slightly clammy one. Keith rubs his thumb soothingly over Lance’s knuckles and then bends down to kiss his boyfriend on the forehead. He straightens up from the kiss but stays within earshot of Lance. He looks down at his boyfriend’s tired blue eyes and he can tell that Lance is trying to fight off the sleep that the anesthesia is trying to lull him into.

“Let yourself fall asleep babe, everything will be fine when you wake up. I’ll be here waiting for you and you’ll finally have the chest that you have always wanted.” Keith assures Lance. He didn’t dare admit to Lance that he is also nervous about the procedure but he knows that Lance is in safe hands. The alien doctor in front of him is the best trained in all of the surrounding universes and is probable better trained than any doctor on earth. This knowledge doesn’t prevent the nagging voice in the back of Keith’s head that something bad could happen to Lance.

A comforting hand on Keith’s shoulder prevents him from following his nervous train of thought and he glances over at the Altean next to him. “Keith’s right my boy, we’ll both be here when you wake up and when you wake up everything will be right as the water that falls from the sky on your planet.” Coran assures Lance.

Lance nods sleepily and lets himself fall asleep to the comforting words that his boyfriend and space uncle are whispering to him in soft voices.

-

The next time Lance is awake, he is only briefly aware of a numb feeling his chest which feels lighter than it ever has. A different kind of pressure surrounds his chest but this pressure feels comforting and protective. He slips back into dreamland as he feels the bed he is on being pushed forward.

-

Lance’s next memory of being conscious is the sinking feeling in his stomach which accompanies falling out of a healing pod. He lets out a disgruntled whine but he recognizes the feeling of the arms that caught him around his waist. He slowly opens his eyes and finds himself looking up at Keith’s concerned but smiling face.

“I need you to move around a bit for me, Lance. You have to stretch out your muscles so that you can heal properly. We want you to have a full range of motion when you are fully healed.” Keith explains and helps Lance steady himself and then guides him through the stretches that Lurox recommends his recovering patients.

Lance follows Keith’s instructions and stretches out his stiff body and is surprised to find that he is only the littlest bit sore. His chest is still mostly numb but he did enough research back on Earth to know that numbness is common after surgery and most if not all of his feeling will come back as he continues to heal.

After finishing a session of thorough stretching, Keith and a nurse guide Lance back into a healing pod. The healing pods on this planet are far more advanced than the pods on the castle ship and Lance is pleasantly surprised to find that these pods are not bone chillingly freezing like the ones he has become accustomed to. Lance drifts back off into unconsciousness as the healing pod works its magic and heals the body he’d always dreamed of having.

-

Being woken up to stretch and perform light exercises becomes an almost daily routine and it is only two movements later that Lance finds himself released from Lurox’s care. He is asked to come back of any problems should arise but video chat check ups will suffice as he continues to heal. Lance thanks Lurox and the team of nurse profusely and heads back to the Castle Ship with Keith and Coran.

“Now my boy, the healing pods sped your healing along considerably but you still need to take it easy. No intense exercising but you can still participate in easier drills with the rest of the team. Every couple days we can pop you into a healing pod aboard the castle for a few Vargas to continue speeding up your healing process.” Coran rambles as he happily twirls his mustache around his finger.

Lance smiles up at his space uncle and nods, “I know, Coran. We just went through all of this with the nurses and Lurox. Right now I just want to get back to my own bed aboard the castle and maybe cuddle with my amazing boyfriend.” He turns to look at Keith who is blushing slightly because of Lance’s words.

Lance laughs happily and tugs Keith close to his side, still being mindful of his sore chest and the hospital issued binder that he needs to continue to wear for the next one to two movements. His smile only grows when Keith loops an arm around his waist.

“Sorry to burst your bubble but I think we’ll have to postpone or cuddle session.” Keith says and looks up at his boyfriend. Lance pouts down at his Korean boyfriend who simply laughs. “Well we can skip the feast Hunk has made to celebrate your surgery and you being released from the hospital but I think it’d really hurt his feelings. Plus, space garlic knots are always better fresh.” Keith says with a shrug.

“Garlic knots?” Lance gasps and quickens his pace toward the Castle Ship. “Sorry Keith, cuddles can wait until after I stuff myself full of garlic knots and then brush my teeth because garlic breath is grody!” Lance rambles and tugs Keith behind him and Coran follows the couple, laughing the whole way.

Happy Pride Month everybody! I know it’s been forever since I updated and I’m sorry senior year of high school turned out to be busier then I expected. I am now out of school and will have a lot more time to write so expect faster updates! Also, I know I promised a homeless Lance update first but it’s pride month so I decided to upload this one first! Trans Lance Masterlist

[flockofdoves]

been gaining weight pretty quickly this month (which is good! i’m glad i seem to be improving a lot with eating normally again and my stomach is slowly tolerating things better) and i’m pretty disaociated from my body i didnt realize how much i lost before its kinda wild the few moments of clarity i did have (like it wasnt objectively a shocking image just in comparison to my typical weight throughout the past few years) and now ive only started realizing ive gained weight again because my boobs keep ffucking hurting like i’m going through puberty again to a lesser extent i havent worn bras regularly in like a year and a half (and no i dont have small ones i know a lot of people with breasts my size think its something they physically cant do or w/e but really as long as you dont care about looking “saggy” (so what lol) physically i think its actually felt better for me than the “support” of a bra i only wear sports bras with button ups to avoid when they open up) but yeah god i might need to wear one for a bit again just bc they hurt lol i think this maybe is a sign to start actively pursuing transition stuff again soon

wait actually coming back to this like an hour later bc i was curious what my bra size is and

why is sizing so complicated it should not be this hard what

i think i only thought i knew how it worked before because i wayyyy measured myself wrong

what are you even supposed to do for measuring when the middle of them sags well below where your band measurement is

trying to look this up just made me angry because instead of tips for properly measuring i only got “prevent saggy breasts” “saggy breasts are a problem that effects some women when they age or breast feed heres our special expensive bras to treat them” like literally shut up theres nothing “wrong” about it thats literally just how things are gonna be for most people with larger breasts. i should not be surprised but even the smallest forays into femininity never fail to disappoint me

thought i was like a 36~38D~DD but i’m actually like . somewhere in the broad category of 32~34F~K no matter which method of measuring/chart i used. which is wild because at only slightly less than i am now i thought i was a B cup for ages just because i wore the tightest sports bras lolol

so lol yeah i already wasn’t planning on buying any more bras but like. that cements it bc thats even more expensive and inaccessible

also maybe some of my posture issues are from my boobs??? but bras did literally nothing for that. granted they werent the right size i’m learning now but i don’t like their general feeling or how they look on me or anything. binding also isn’t possible most of the time for me anymore with my fibro and chronic fatigue and how it exacerbates back problems/muscle and rib pain/preexisting shortness of breath so i’m actually really happy with where i’ve come to in the past couple years in feeling comfortable with my breasts as they naturally sit/look and not feeling constantly aware of them and just letting them be and part of my body just wearing what i wear without bras. i still am pretty sure i’d like top surgery because aesthetically it’d be easier for me and it’d make a lot of outfits less of a hassle to pull off and button ups would be easier because i wouldnt have to choose between camis when its hot out and ill fitting sports bras. and like. yeah i still have some gender dysphoria (for lack of a better term. idk how to say it shortly without getting into All That personally) surrounding them but i think its a lot less central than it used to be when i had to think about wearing bras and even binders and stuff they just felt a lot more central to my life and alien while now i could deal with them probably outside of the still consistent but less constant reminders of 1. i am a person who is perceived by others and 2. sometimes just. objectively physically they are uncomfortable and annoying and 3. the taboo on showing them in our world and how our clothing is structured doesnt help

[teddy-feathers]

gender is scary id rather have a cool rock.

i just wish this wasnt so important to me. that it didnt matter.

i tried to make it not matter.

ive been thinking about this hard for many years growing more confused and upset

because. youre you.

gender isnt a performance. its not an aesthetic.

i cant in good faith say im going to take back the parts of me i struggled to accept- i mean rainbow pastels are super cute and i adore adorable things and im not going to let life make me feel cringey over it again

i cant say ill change at all because im not. deciding to adhere to a different set of gender rules and rolls - hell thats one of the largest reasons i didnt want to deal with this at all

dudes dudettes and everyone on the outside of the ven diagram of idiocy can be and act and represent themself however they want and what they wear or hownthey act can't change that

so it shouldnt matter that in many ways im... girly. just listen to me talk or sing or whatever shit i do that makes me flinch now when i notice

but it does because.... because i was waiting for permission

i didnt realize it but. i didnt feel like i had any right to claim anything

im not a "special snowflake" im just like stupid queer or whatever idk

i laughed at the first person - a guy - who told me he was ace turns out im aro and ace.

i said i didnt care if my soulmate was a guy or a girl or multiple people because thatd be stupid - and then i didnt even NOTICE girls because well im not gay id know... until i dated one.

and then i found out nonbinary and trans folk were a thing.

its not scary to think you might be nonbinary. youre just outside the ven diagram. thats fine. obviously youve got to decide what that means for yourself

but.

i still felt... wrong. and it built and it built and i was afraid because... because me being a guy isnt allowed. im not special. i dont want to be special. and this - thisnis me just jumping onto the train right?

but i started getting angry and hurt and noticing all the time "miss" this and "maam" that.

or

"well im not a smartman" "youre not a man at all tho?"

"pfft well i could wingman for you." "blah blah blah wingWOMAN"

like. i decided. id try the binder thing and i liked it but dont we all like new fashion? new looks...

i decided to start cutting my hair and then... becoming dissatisfied when i looked like a lesbain instead of vaguely dudeish even though yeah im flattered that apparantly id make a cute lesbian? super flattered. its a LOOK and god do those girls look good

i got called sir once at walmart and was ecstatic.

but now i just want to cry. because people know and... i dont know hownto feel or even howni feel because the most i feel is scared which

alrifht i always feel scared about everything especially change

im lucky. i told my coworkers and they didnt even blink and changed pronouns and started calling me Dan.

Im thrilled but

im terrified

i dont take me seriously. how can anyone else? and i. i dont want people to know im trans. im not proud or whatever when i go and look at the cute designs on redbubble the way i am over aro ace stuff. its not funny or safe feeling.

itd be nice if i could just say i wish people wouldnt know by looking - they just saw a guy but its not even that? i sont want people to see me at all and yeah some of thats me just flipping out because... what if im wrong but...

i know. a large part of this is my avpd.

i got a rush

im super psyched i can just go "hey I'm a dude" to some people i know and its chill

but my brain runs on misery - if it sees me happy about something it freaks out and it takes a while for the battleship alarms to stop going off and assume the other horrible shoe is going to drop

but some part of me is wondering still

what if im not a guy

what if im making it all up

what if what if what if

you know?

right now if someone were to come up to me and say no. youre not trans. youre not valid... id probably bare throat.

byt its not validation i want or need. weirdly enough for the first time in my life ive got. plenty of validation its

surety.

confidence.

which. will only come with time. until hearing "sir" or "dan" becomes natural like a broken in shoe and then i can figure out if that was all it was or if the fit wasnt right after all.

its like. the humiliation i feel and have sometimes even now when i wear dresses. like im naked or wearing it wrong ornits very obviously unnatural on me because im very old to still need to learn how to be comfortable in it.

itll come with time but...

i already feel like i want to wear this label.

i just dont want anyone to make a big deal about it when i do... or... second guess myself out of something i want just because im not used to it.

at the end of the day in a coward... ill get over it im just... tired.

i dont want to say im a man. i never have.

but im a dude, a guy. just a person. just me.

i just wish it was more like dying my hair - unremarkable really even if it can be pretty or neat.

because. its not a big deal to me but simultaneously the biggest deal possible and honestly i wish it didnt matter

gender is scary, id rather have a cool rock

[tumblunni]

MORE UPDATES ON THINGS WHAT HAPPEN

The half week milestone of the hospital house thingie time! I think the term they use for it is "a residential stay"? Cos like its not a hospital its a shared housing block thats just full of doctors. I get to sleep in a real bed and there's a nice community room and board game nights and stuff. But its still really scary how intense the supervision can be! Like they have a window to look into your room once per hour every hour constantly. And they have to go through your undies and catalog them as part of the possessions check. I was not warned about that and it was mega embarassing trying to explain a binder to a bunch of old lady doctors! Oh and i had yo do a urine test today which was possibly the most fuckin embarassing thing in the actual universe. And you're not even allowed to take your own pills! They keep them locked in a big ominous wall of lockers and you have to come into the office and swallow the pill while theyre watching. I guess maybe because some people might be faking their illness and selling their pills on the black market or whatever? But that literally doesnt happen with antidepressants, they have no 'high' or even any effect at all on non-sick people. So it just makes no sense to me and its real embarassing cos like i said i suck at taking pills with plain water and without a straw. The ones i take are real damn chunky things the size of my thumbnail! I think i'l get better at not (literally) choking under pressure over time, tho. Hopefully.

Anyway that's all the bad out of the way! Now the good and the neutral and the just miscellaneous!

Its still nervewracking having to shower in a shared house but they have a cool walk-in shower and ive never tried one of those so it was vaguely interesting. And im allowed to take my showers early at 6am to minimize the chance of anyone else trying to use the door, lol. My biggest fear is having some staff member walk in on me when im naked like back in that homeless hostel. Oh or that time in the homeless hostel where the teenage boys filled the entire bathroom with inflated condoms wall to wall. Like wow so much damn effort to prank the stupid nervous bunni who probably would have been embarassed by literally anything else. Man this place is bringing so many memories of that homeless hostel but at least this time its a place specifically for sick people and they know i'm anxious doing shared cooking and board games and whatever so they dont make fun of me for it. But in a lot of ways that hostel had more freedoms too.. *shrug*

Anyway! A good! I get to have cooking lesson!! I know literally nothing about cooking and now i get to know several thing!! This nice doctor called Josie taught me how to make an omelette and i tasted ham for the first time! That is just how limited my life experiences are, lol. Oh and they want me to say that she's a 'mental health worker' not a doctor, but its all real confusing?? Like they have the staff that look after you and then the only ones we're supposed to call doctors are the ones who actually have the authority to prescribe pills and diagnosies. But like if youre in a hospital you'd call them all doctors, not just the actual surgeon? Or i guess theyre kinda like nursing home staff?? But they cant be support workers cos support workers are specific government assigned inspector type guys like Richard who only meet with you once a week.and i have to remember to not call him a social worker either cos social workers only work with family and custody related stuff. I dunno?? Basically the medical industry has a lot of names that dont really describe what the actual thing is, lol. Anyway the ham omelette was great and now im gonna try and remember so i can try and make it myself next time! HAM ACCOMPLISHED

Also i played bingo with a few other patients and it was fun but funny that i lost 6 times in a row when there were only 3 of us. I got a consolation prize of a pack of neon highlighter pens so hell yeah!!

I'm getting booked in to try some additional classes starting next week on monday and tuesday morning. The computer programming one was sadly unavailable, but i managed tp snag a place in "confidence building group therapy" and "basic how to use power tools". I wasnt really all that interested in that one but i thought it would be a useful skill even if its less fun. And maybe you get to actyally make something to take home at the end? A lil shelf to help organize this awkward lil room better, maybe?

And an unexpected bonus of being semi-hospitalized is that i get a free bus pass! And cos im here cos of my social anxiety theyre gonna help me get outside more and actually use this thing to the fullest! The first thing we did was the trip to actually get the bus pass itself. It was like "bus, take my money to take me to the place where i can never give you money again!" XD Ive been really stupidly nervous about going on tne bus in my old neighbourhood cos MAN it was really isolated there and everything just amplified my mental illness. An almost two hour bus ride to get to ANY SHOPS AT ALL, with only one bus for the whole town so it was always crowded and full of screaming kids and gossipy everyones. Social anxiety: maximum level proud mode!

So yeah i feel BIG ACCONPLISHED! I was able to take this bus for the first time with a doctor coming with me. Power Grandpa The Strong. His actual name is Paul and he has awesome sleeve tattoos of like anchors and dragons and sports teams and stuff! And he likes thrift stores and wearing silly hats too! Its like he's powerful enough to wrestle away everyone's anxieties! I was able to be a bit reckless too and i went out wearing my fave shirt thats like trans pride coloured plaid. A POWERFUL SHIRT IS REQUIRED FOR THIS QUEST! so we went to the office to register this bus pass and i panicked a bit cos apparantky we brought the wrong form and i wrote my name in the wrong box and then my passport photo looked terrible and aaa! But it all worked out and i was kinda freaking out for nothing. And he took me for a lil tour of the place and showed me this cool shop that does spray paint tye dye t shirts with spiderman on them?? Why does this incredibly specific shop exist and how have i never heard of it before?? There was also a new harry potter shop next to the disney shop, and the old used book store i used to visit as a kid was still there, complete with rickety spiral staircase and ominous basement trap door. I'm still not brave enough to go down there, but apparantly its just the history books section so meh. Then we actually went to a fancy coffee shop and i had this brain freeze mango ice frappucchino thing! Im trying all the new foods!!

And i was TOO HIGH ON DECADENCE and made a RECKLESS CHOICE! i blame power gramp's amazing tattoos, they were totally whispering to me that i shoukd screw the rules and ride off into the sunset on a metaphorical harley davidsen of mental health

So i was like Hey Paul I Am Totally Fine Getting Home On My Own, and it was like i was floating off in the distance somewhere begging my body to not speaketh these words. But it ended up working out okay! The excitement of it all and the sense of accomplishmebt from getting there all okay allowed me to mostly not freak out as i spent the day in town and looked at some shops and stuff. Basic Living Skills: Completed! I chilled out in the library (tho i dont have a card yet, alas!) and visited like five comic and anime stores, and got lost but found a Pizza Hut and that was SO NOSTALGIC FOR MY CHILDHOOD and it didnt taste quite as good as i remembered but the waiter guy was super nice and had a similar shirt and it was All Good! Oh and i gave all my money to a homeless person and that's why i'm broke now. And i bought a plastic slug! I just saw it from across the room and was like OH NO I AM BEING MAGNETISED TOWARDS IT OH NO IT HAS ALREADY BEEN BOUGHT. I need to think of a name for this new friend!!

So yeh i got home okay and i felt really acconplished and that was the furthest trip away that i've taken in ages! Man my mental illness makes me feel pathetic, but it also brings ridiculously big joys from the smallest of silly acconplishys!

Oh and thank you so much to the people who sent me emails! It really helped so much to keep me from giving up during the first few days before i made a bit of progress and felt like i could really do this, yknow? Especially big thanks tp the friend who sent me that mysterious super happy song that they found on a mystery disc in a german market?? Im still not sure whether its in greek or hasidic jewish but it sounds AMAZING and i hope someday i can figure out the band so i can hear their other singles!

Ok this is bunni out! BIG HUGS FOR THE EVERYONE AAAA

[abandoned-ax]

I’m on the team - pt 2

Summery: you start training with the guys and Suga gets concerned! 

Pt 1 Pt 3 Pt 4

TW: over binding

“Drop your hips a bit more (y/n)” Noya said, helping me with receives, he’s a really good teacher! They all are! It’s been about 2 weeks that Iv been on the team and I’m learning really fast! Asahi and Tanaka have already declared me a super threat in spiking! And Tsuki has been helping me with learning blocks (although he isn’t a great teacher)! Kageyama has been working with me on my jump serve and has taught me the basics of setting but with him and suga around there’s really no reason for me to learn it! I’m still a beginner but everyone says I’m learning quick!

Iv gotten pretty close with the guys over the past two weeks! I hang out a lot with Tsuki and Yams since there in my classes and I find there dynamic super fun! And Suga has already become like a big brother to me! They’ve all been really awesome about making sure I’m comfortable with everything, I just started using there locker room today cause I finally felt comfortable enough with them!

Practicing has become like my life! Even when I’m not with the team I’m doing whatever I can on my own! I want to make them proud, I know me being on the team must have taken a lot of convincing and I know it’s going to be hard on them so I want them to know they didn’t make a mistake taking a risk on me!

“Ok it’s getting late! Let’s all clean up and get out of here!” Daichi yelled, I hadn’t even realized how dark it was! I was so focused on working with Noya on my receives.

“Good job today (Y/N)! In no time your gunna be game ready!” Noya said jumping around

“Oh I don’t know, Iv just started!”

“Oh come on kid! Your picking up so fast! Although I would give some credit to your senpais for teaching you!” Tanaka said wrapping an arm around me and smiling like an idiot.

“Yeah yeah! My wonderful Senpais, who thought me everything.”

“Exactly what you say when you make it big!” Tanaka laughed

“Oh but don’t forget to put emphasis on us!” Noya added

“Yeah! Yeah! Add on especially Tanaka and Noya!”

“The best senpais ever!”

“Thanks it that’s the perfect speech!” Tanaka announced “you should write that down, wouldn’t wanna forget it!”

I just laugh at them moving to help clean everything up.

After we clean up and change everyone’s walking to there houses panning yo stop for mean buns that the third years said they’d buy for everyone. The more excitable ones walking ahead with most of the (more responsible) second years walking with them. Me Tsuki Yams and the third years walking behind.

“Hey (Y/N) I was wondering what the things you wear on your chest is?” Suga asks kinda suddenly.

“ oh um it’s called a binder, it helps flatten my chest!”

“Oh I didn’t know they had something for that! That’s super cool!” Suga’s always been interested in my gender identity, asking questions and such! He’s always super respectful about it too, just wanting to understand my situation.

“I’m sorry about all the questions Iv been meaning to do some research on my own but classes have been killing me.” Suga laughs!

“Oh no it’s all good don’t worry about it.”

“Are we supposed to be doing research!” Asahi asked nervously.

“No no! You really don’t have to! Really!”

“Just make sure you tell us if we do anything wrong (Y/N)” Daichi asks like the good leader he is

“ I will! I promise!” I say reassuring both of them that they don’t have to be nervous.

Tsuki moved his arm around my shoulders

“He’s to scared to correct anyone, lucky he’s got me to call them out.” Tsuki says passively walking faster making me and yams catch up to him

“You and your stupid long legs!” I say basically jogging to keep up with him, and he slows down so I can keep up.

And we keep waking and talking, mostly about class and planing day to study together fun an upcoming test like we’ve been doing since I joined the team and became friends with them.

The next day before I get to the gym Sugas standing outside stopping me.

“What’s up Suga?”

“Can I talk to you about something real quick.”

“Sure what is it, is something wrong?”

“No, no! Well I mean, I did some research last night. And I remembered you told me that you wear a binder, so I looked it up! But I um well I found out that your only supposed to wear it for 8 hours and your not supposed to work out in it, and we’ll if you put it on before school and then don’t take it off during practice, your breaking both of those.”

“I-I don’t know Suga, I don’t like not wearing it.”

“I know you don’t like not wearing it but you can overwear it either, it’s not safe!”

“I agree” a voice says from behind me, I turn to see Tsuki looking at me disapprovingly.

“I don’t know what to tell you guys, I’m not going to stop wearing it!”

“Why don’t we get you some binding tape for sports and see if you like it. You don’t even have to send it to your house if you don’t want your parents seeing it, we can send it to mine if you need.” Tsuki says seemingly having thought this out already.

“I don’t know”

“I know it’s hard, but it’s unhealthy to overwear.”

“Ok” I say looking down.

“Take it off before practice, you can wear one of my shirts, it’ll be bigger on you.” Tsuki says walking into the gym.

“I know it’s hard (Y/N), well I don’t know, I could never understand.”

“Thank you Suga.”

“Oh it’s really no problem.” Suga says putting his hand on his neck laughing nervously.

We both head inside seeing that Tsuki put one of his extra shirts in my locker to change into.

We get to practice a bit late but Daichi doesn’t say anything, giving Suga a look, I assume they talked about this before.

While we’re practicing (Noya still working with me on receives) takeda suddenly rushed into the room seeming super excited about something. Everyone stoped.

“We’ve been invited to a training camp!”

An: thank you guys for reading! I’m super excited for the next part!!! Ready for training camp!!! Let me know if you wanna be tagged in future parts!!! And please send in any requests!!!

Tag: @gooseyhouse

[sakurasangcl]

Lightning (part one)

Summary: With newly discovered powers, you’re not only a hazard to yourself, but to the public too.

Word Count: 2.6k

Pairing: Reader, Peter, Tony

Warnings: attempted suicide, divorced parents (idk if this is a warning or not, but hey, you never know), verbally abusive father (the reader describes it as “quasi abusive”)

Notes: Some of this is based off of my experience in high school, but is not at all true (obviously). And yes, this is part one of a series. *winks*

Changing from secondary school into high school was no big deal. You were a smart kid and knew how to go about it. You’d keep a low profile, be quiet, learn quickly. You’d fly from class to class, never lingering in the hallways. You seemed impatient and fidgety, and perhaps that was true. In your free time at school, you’re nose was always in a book. You knew it was an extremely antisocial behavior, but reading was an escape. An escape from the hell that was reality. And it worked… for a time.

It was one particular afternoon that really got to you. Since you changed school districts after moving to a new apartment across town into Queens, you didn’t have any friends. You’d sit alone on the bus, or even chance walking home if you felt like it.

It was a Friday that should’ve been like any other Friday. Except, it wasn’t. This was the first weekend that you had to go with your father. Your quasi abusive father. He never laid a finger on you, but you could just tell that he hated you. Your younger brother and older siblings were his pride and joy. One was becoming a doctor, the other an engineer. Your brother was showing promising athletic capabilities. But you, you were nothing special. Sure, you were incredibly smart and could write the equivalent of a novel about the Battle of Gettysburg, but he wasn’t interested in history or reading. No- only changing the world.

Your last class was Geometry, and the teacher had a nasty habit of holding you over the bell. You scribbled triangles and degrees on your notes, but nothing seemed to process in your mind. It was a foreign language to you-but much worse. As the bell shrieked, your teacher shouted your homework.

“The homework starts on page 54, and I want you to do 1 to 50 but only the odds!”

“Twenty five problems? Really?” you mutter under your breath.

You heard someone snigger nearby, “What, the nerd can’t handle it?”

You ignored the nasty comment as you rushed out of the room, hoping to make it quickly to the bus. Instead, Russell Meyers blocked your way.

“You’re doing my math for me, nerd,” He states, dropping his binder and pencil into your arms.

“No I’m not!” You reply, shoving the items back in his arms.

“You are, or that ugly face of yours will get even uglier,” Russell threatens.

“I didn’t know you were talking about yourself!” you scoffed, feigning shock.

“I’m not, you fool! I’m talking about you!” he growls, throwing his books at you.

Maybe it was that you were done with school for the day, really wanted to be gone, or were just really nervous, but you were not expecting what happened next. “I’m not doing your homework, you unintelligent oaf.”

“What’s that?”

“I said no.”

“No, you called me an oaf.”

“An unintelligent oaf, actually,” you correct, as his face reddened to the shade of a tomato.

As a child with extreme anger issues, Russell did what was only logical to him-punching you square in the face.

“What a perfect day to wear white,” you sarcastically comment about the bright red blood as you run to the bathroom.

You take out a ton of paper towels, and hold your nose to stop the bleeding. You bend over to help it clot faster, but to no avail. You must have broken your nose.

You silently cursed at Russell, hoping he’d rue the day he met you. And rue the day he would.

Except today it was you who would be ruing the day. You ran outside, still trying to stop the bleeding but also to make it to the bus. Just as you made your way outside, the buses were pulling out of the parking lot.

“Great. Just what I needed.”

With a very audible sigh, you began your long trek home.

Not once did a stranger offer you help for your nose, ask what happened, or why there was blood on your shirt. Not even any of the police officers that you passed- five, precisely.

Once you got home, you had thirty minutes to get ready to go with your dad and to fix your nose.

“MOM?” you shout, hoping to get her help to fix your nose. “MOM!” Of course, she wasn’t home. Instead, your brother came out of his room and looked at you quizzically.

“What happened to you?” he questions.

“I got punched in the face.”

“Nice! Did you hit ‘em back?”

“No, I fell.”

“Aww man…” he mumbles, retreating back into his room.

Alone with your younger sibling, you go into the room that you shared with your sisters and backed a small bag for the weekend. Once you were done, you went to the bathroom to clean yourself up with only ten minutes to spare.

What you saw was bad. Your face was caked in dried blood, and your nose and lower left eye swelling black. You gently touched the inflamed area and squeaked in pain. Your nose was definitely broken.

With warm, soapy water you washed away the blood, revealing a cut under the bruise. At the same time, your mother came home, now only with five minutes left.

“Oh honey, what happened!” she exclaims, examining your nose.

“I got punched,” You state as though it was the most obvious thing ever.

“I figured that much, but why?” she inquires further, taking out her first aid kid.

“I wouldn’t do this kid’s homework.”

“That’s not right! I’m going to talk to the school, and his mother. What is this delinquent’s name?”

“It doesn’t matter. His mother wouldn’t care, and neither would the school. It would just make it worse for me.” You explaining, wincing as she patched up your nose.

“Oh honey, I am so sorry!” Your mother exclaims, kissing you lightly on your uninjured cheek.

The sound of barking and the ringing of the doorbell got your mother up. “I’ll go explain to your father, you finish getting yourself ready.”

“No, it’s no use. He’d congratulate the guy who punched me.” You admit, grabbing your mother’s hand to stop her.

You rushed yourself to get the rest of your cloths, and quickly went down with your father, keeping your head low.

“You should’ve just done the kid’s homework. Your sisters would have done that.” You father says, the disgust clear in his voice.

You say nothing, as his reply would be worse than anything.

“Or you could have fought him back. Your brother would have done that. You ran away like the coward you truly are.” He adds as an afterthought.

You don’t know if it was being punched, your dad, or a mixture of everything, but you found yourself on the top of his seven story apartment building, looking down. You were holding a piece of paper that you scribbled three words on- I’m not sorry.

Clenching the paper tightly in your fist, and you step onto the edge of the roof. You look around the city-your city- and sigh.

“This is it. The end.” you assure yourself.

After a deep breath, you hear the door to the roof open, and know it’s now or never. You glance over your shoulder to see your brother and say, “I love you. This is not your fault. Just let me go.” Then leap forward onto nothing. You heard screams and sirens. All you could see was blurred, and all you could smell was tacos.

You only partially remember being transferred into the ambulance, and the ride to the hospital.

You kind of remember blurred faces leaning over you, checking your pulse and heart rate. They put one of those masks to help you breath over you face. You wanted to take it off.  

You remember being stuck with an iv at the hospital, so you wouldn’t die and could be given medicine since you couldn’t (but also wouldn’t) take it orally.

You also remember the doctor explaining a new type of experimental drug that could help speed up your healing time.

You remember seeing the arrangement of your bones from your x ray on the wall next to you, and how almost every bone in your body was broken.

You remember the days and hours ticking by.

You remember your two sisters coming to visit you, both of them wondering why you’d ever do such a terrible thing.

You remember them whispering how much they love you to your motionless and numb body.

You remember being carted down to get your second x ray a week and a half later, and seeing the results through drugged eyes. The smaller bones had healed, and you were almost done mending.

You got sent home that day with your mother. As a nurse, she was trusted to take care of you-and the heavy medications you were on. But rather than staying with you, she had to work overtime to get money for all the procedures.

You remember the doctor from before coming home to check on you and helping out. His beard was oddly shaped, but you couldn’t remember how. You swore you’d seen him before somewhere.

You remember your brother watching the doctor with awe, and that he would actually listen to him.

You also remember a red and blue blur looking at you through your window, both at the hospital and at home.

You remember the comfort from the strange blur, though you couldn’t explain why.

You couldn’t remember when you starting having a tutor, but his name was Mr. Brown. He was a chill dude, and you think you must have had him as a substitute teacher before. He was a very smart man, and optimistically assured you that you would be back in school in no time. Of course, you’d rather just be home schooled the entire time and never have to go back to that dreadful place.

Of course, you could only take so much boredom. Even Mr. Brown could tell two weeks in that you were over halfway caught up with over two months worth of missed classes.

“Miss y/n, did you ever find school paced too slowly for you?” he inquires one evening while grading your papers.

You shrug solemnly. “Yeah, but there wasn’t much I could do about it.”

“Well, on the bright side you’ll be caught up soon if you actually try from here on out.”

Of course, try was not something you wanted to do until your anxiety spoke up and pointed out that continually failing everything you missed would bring down your GPA. So you were soon back in school after four months of absence. Your casts were all off, and you were walking by yourself. By all accounts, it was a miracle. You should have taken about six months to heal, not hardly four.

You got to school early your first day back. All of the teachers were extremely attentive to you, and wanted to give you ample time to adjust again. They were being overly nice, and avoiding the fact that the last time they saw you was the day you attempted suicide.

Your first class was history, and it was with your favorite teacher. You made your way through the labyrinth of a school to his class, and was the first one there. “Morning Mr. Smith,” you say, sitting down in your front seat.

“It’s good to have you back, y/n. How are you doing today?” He asks you, being earnest unlike the rest of the people you’d run into.

“I’m nervous, to be honest.”

“You’ll be fine!” he assures you.

That couldn’t have been further from the truth.

History ended up being fine, as Mr. Smith went in full detail of the Battle for Chattanooga, specifically the one on Lookout Mountain. English was stressful, since you were behind on the reading, but your teacher was understanding. When it was time for lunch, you had bitten off almost all of your nails. You were not looking forward to sitting by yourself or worse-being bothered by people wanting to know why.

You gathered your lunch from your locker, and slowly made your way to lunch. By the time you got there, most people were already sitting down, paying you no mind. With your luck, all tables were full. One was mostly empty, except for two boys. One of them, with brown hair and dark brown eyes, smiled at you.

They both gave off the nerdy vibe so you thought you’d give them half of a chance.

“Is it okay if I sit here?” you manage to ask over the fear rising in your stomach.

They both stared at you blankly.

“That’s a yes,” a girl laughs, who was sitting at the opposite end of the table near the wall.

The larger one elbowed the one who had shyly smiled before, and he nods. “Yes, please do! I’m Peter and this is my friend Ned.”

“I’m y/n,” you mumble, quickly eating your food.

“Well it’s nice to meet you!” Peter says, smiling again.

“You wanna eat any faster?” Ned jokes.

You shrug, but begin to eat a bit slower. You wanted to appear more “lady like,” but you roll your eyes at the thought.

Then you pause mid bite of yogurt and your eyes widen as Russell makes his way over. Before you could even leave the cafeteria, he was in front of you, blocking your way out.

“Do you know what we had to endure because of your episode of attempted suicide?” he grumbles, clearly irritated.

You shrug, not wanting to provoke him.

“We had to sit in this shitty assembly while they went on and on about the warning sides of suicide. All because of you. We aren’t even supposed to talk to you, because you’re ‘fragile’ and ‘damaged.’ Well, I just think you are a selfish bastard.”  Russell blurts.

“Sorry,” you say, your voice as monotone as your emotions.

“Is that really all you have to say for yourself, you little bitch?”

You look down at the linoleum floor, not saying anything.

“You pathetic little-” he began, throwing a fist right at your face again.

This time, you were ready for it. In not even a blink of the eye, you were behind him and out the door. You moved literally over twenty feet in not even a second. You look back, only seeing Russell dumbfounded and his friends confused. Deciding that it was best not to wait any longer, you race off to the girl’s bathroom to wait for your next class. You step forward, and the next thing you knew, you were in front of the bathroom door- which was at least 40 feet away.

You open the door, beginning to hyperventilate. Your heart begins to race, your body begins to shake, and your breaths become short gasps for air. You feel bile in your mouth as you try not to throw up, and the salty tears as they made it to your lips.

Then you hear your name being called on the speakers, which does not help. You rummage through your purse and take your inhaler, then splash cold water on your face to help you calm down. You gently pat your face dry with a paper towel and blow your nose. You make sure you look as presentable as possible.

Peaking out of the bathroom, you look to see if the hallways were empty. They were.

You then sped walked to the front office, where the last person you ever expected to see was waiting for you.

Tony Stark, also known as Iron Man.  

tagging: @ruined-by-destiel @teamfreewill-imagine (if either of you don’t want to be tagged just lmk)

want to be tagged? send me an ask and you’re name will be here for part 2!

[burningalight]

my binders/locker in grade school were stuffed with so much shit i couldnt find anything...always crumpled up papers, trash etc

chewed pencils/pens, broke them taking them apart in class, lost them, often didn’t have one, frequently borrowing them and forgetting to give them back to the point that certain people wouldn’t give me pencils

could comprehend reading i liked very well, but when we’d have reading groups with boring books id always be lost,  or when the teachers would have one on ones and have u read something short and ask questions after to assess ur reading level, they’d often have to tell me to read it again bc they knew how much i remembered didnt add up to my intelligence and reading speed 

moms college friend gave me an unoffical iq test and i did much worse than i know i shouldve on the reading portion bc she’d play a story and then ask me after to list every detail i could remember and i couldn’t remember anything. but when she played 10 numbers and asked me to say them out loud backwards i scored extremely high ?

couldnt do projects, would be in tears, last minute every time, parents mad bc i need a poster board RIGHT NOW ITS DUE TOMORROW . hated assigned reading, horrible at essays even when they helped us plan them. 

i remember my 7th grade social studies teacher assigning a paper, i wrote extremely detailed and well in the first paragraph or 2, and the following ones got shorter and shorter and were completely bullshit bc i got bored. she told me ‘really strong first paragraph.’ and gave me a B  

talk too got damn fast. customers constantly telling me to slow down bc they cant understand me

my mom always says she had to challenge me as a kid bc i would get bored and get in trouble. i was acting out bc i was understimulated, i happened to like learning (esp numbers and puzzles) bc smart so that’s what i could fixate on and felt stimulated by

lunch detention frequently in 8th grade in my first highschool class, algebra, bc i wouldnt do my homework, at one point he just stopped giving lunch detention for that bc i wouldnt do it. i hated that class bc the math was boring and i never paid attention but would somehow pull off a’s and b’s on tests so i ended up with a B. my first B, and i had brought that up from a D (told my mom it was almost a C, he gave a really hard test and we all did bad etc, when she had to sign a paper about my low grade) at the end of the year, during the exam i was so confused the whole time, it was my first highschool exam and i didn’t know ANYTHING. i ended up with a 92 from guessing, and a curve, and every one of my friends got at least a 93 or better and i felt so stupid bc i was supposed to be the best at math

i would take every highschool class in honors but not one english class bc it required more essays and summer reading and i knew i wouldnt do the reading and would cry over the essays

the only other class i didnt take honors was chemistry bc i knew the honors teacher had a lot of projects and i would be stressing over them. i ended up with an A in the standard chem class even tho i never finished any work in class and didnt do homework, but i was still the smartest in the class and did the best overall

lunch detention for forgetting to get papers signed like report cards. they weren’t even bad grades i just couldnt remember. one time i got actual detention for forging my moms signature bc i got lunch detention for several days straight bc i kept forgetting to get the paper signed 

often had permission slips waiting to be signed the day before the field trip, or told my mom it was picture day the day before or morning of. one time i totally forgot it was picture day and didnt dress up

acting out and not thinking ab the consequences, many referrals.. many more times that my teachers let me get away with acting out when someone else doing the same thing would’ve been punished. one time anna and i left in the middle of class to go with emma to the library, only emma had permission, and my teacher had anna and i do wall sits instead of going to the office. in gym in middle school i would never dress out. i hated the clothes and hated gym bc i was awkward and if we didnt dress out we had to copy pages out of the health textbook the entire time and i would barely write 2 paragraphs bc i was so bored and my hand hurt and he never did anything ab it. i wouldnt dress out at least twice per week if not more. told my mom I had a C bc he had it out for me but i was the problem

in elementary school if we didn’t come to gym day wearing the right shoes we had to go into the back and pick out a pair of sneakers that fit out of a box of shoes, and also borrow socks if necessary. i had to do this frequently bc i never remembered to wear the right shoes

i would extremely often forget my library books and have to sit on the couch waiting for everyone to pick out their books for half an hour

when we were even younger we’d have story time and you had to sit in the middle of the floor inside a big circle of chairs where everyone else was if you forgot your library books. i lost one at one point for months and my parents didnt just pay for it so i had to sit in the middle every time. we found the book on a shelf somewhere in the house 

my chorus teacher never liked me bc i talked too much and i always felt like the worst singer, not bc of my singing but bc she wasn’t ever nice to me

in 7th grade science we learned latin root words and every day we’d play a game where we all stood up and one by one he’d ask for a root and we’d give it. if you got it wrong on the first round you’d have to write it on a piece of paper x amount of times and turn it in. if you were the last person left you were allowed to sit on your desk for the rest of the year, during these games while everyone else had to stand up. i wanted so badly to sit on my desk, esp bc i was fidgety and couldnt stand still, but i would never study them bc i’d forget or not want to if i did remember, even tho i really wanted to know them and sit on my desk. that teacher had a huge soft spot for me and one day i just started sitting on my desk during those. everyone knew i was smart, and it was all the smart kids who got to sit on their desks, so no one questioned it. im not sure if he knew i wasnt supposed to and just let me, or didnt realize i hadnt won bc i was smart. 

hyperlexia? mom said i could practically read before i was taught. i’ve always obsessively air written, ie writing words out w my finger in the air, on my leg etc. 

esp during lectures i doodle excessively to the point that my papers margins have always been covered with random scribbly overlapped words, or song lyrics. the words are usually something someone in the class said. ive started keeping an extra sheet of paper just for scribbling when im taking notes or listening in class. when we finished end of year tests in school i would write down full lyrics to songs on my scrap paper so i wouldnt be so bored. my hand cramps up so much but it was better than staring or trying to sleep with the lights on 

doing things and forgetting to turn them in

hyperfixating on books to cope w boredom and social anxiety, at one point read one per day, i was definitely one of the most frequent people in the library 

‘ The way I see it is if I can get information into my mind, I can do a lot with it but getting it in there in the first place is the really difficult part.’ - not mine

none of my teachers ever told my mom any of this i dont think, bc i was the smartest and i always got good grades, most had a soft spot for me BUT COULDNT SEE I HAD ADHD like damn. one time my fourth grade teacher whom i liked a lot was mad at us and indirectly calling people out, and referred to the fact that some of us never stopped talking , then made direct eye contact with me and i felt rly embarrassed bc i didnt realize i did that until she mentioned it

i often had to move seats if i was near friends bc i wouldnt stop instigating talking

at big lots when i had to run the register i was so painfully bored , fidgety, had to sneak my phone soo much bc i was so bored. when i was on the floor i would put away the go backs very quickly and then take upon myself a project like going through the entire wall of individual drinks and pulling out all the expired ones, it was like 5 carts full. my manager put me in charge of organizing the entire makeup section and all the gross clearance makeup bc she knew id do it the best and fastest 

when bosses have me do inventory i can count the products super fast and efficiently, but then when they have me put them into a spreadsheet i stare at it for hours getting nothing done bc distracted and its boring. ammar told me if i’d just get off my phone i could get it done bc he’d been asking for it for weeks, i wasnt trying to ignore it 

when im trying to do something at work that needs more concentration, i want to cry with frustration whenever i hear the door chime and have to get up and help customers and break my focus