#they started growing their hair out maybe a year before they officially came out/transitioned

[lucaanis]

oh noooo i just realized lleyth's hair would have looked kinda like viago's at some point... that's so cute

[rocorambles]

Murder of Crows

Pairing: Hinata, Kageyama, Yamaguchi, Tsukishima, Yachi x Reader aka a Karasuno first-year gangbang (Takes place when they’re all third years.)

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, Toxic Relationships, Rape/Non-con, Degradation 

Summary: You should have trusted your gut when you first felt the wandering eyes and lingering stares, but now it’s too late and you’ll learn first hand what it feels like to be utterly defeated by a murder of crows.

Requested by Anon

You’re not quite sure how exactly you’ve found yourself here in a gym full of sweaty athletes, hauling a basket of ice cold water bottles to the sidelines with your best friend, Yachi, but here you are. With a loud thud, both of you drop the heavy container down and grab the pile of towels just in time for the boys who are quickly approaching you, splattering droplets of sweat everywhere and you crinkle your nose and playfully pretend to gag as they draw near. Tsukishima rolls his eyes at your antics, but he nods his head in thanks as he grabs a clean towel from you. You patiently wait as some other team members relieve you of the pile of fabric in your hands before Yachi and you sit on the bench as Yamaguchi and Coach Ukai order the team to gather around as they discuss practice drills. 

You smile fondly at the way Yamaguchi confidently holds himself as he stands next to Coach Ukai with shoulders squared and a serious, but kind face directed at the rest of the team. To think that the shy Yamaguchi you had met when Yachi had first started helping out the team during your first year would grow to be the respectable captain that he is now. But he’s not the only one who’s gone through drastic changes and you look over the rest of the third-years intently listening to him. Hell, you even turn to briefly look at Yachi and yourself. When you had become friends with Yachi at the beginning of high school you barely knew what volleyball was, let alone thought of managing the team and yet here you both are as third-years, decked out in the black Karasuno warm-up track suit.

Yachi was your first and best friend by far of the group, but you can’t deny that over the last two years you’ve also gotten closer to the rest of the boys in the same year as you. Well, you suppose they technically aren’t boys anymore. A faint smile plays on your lips as you reminisce on all the memories you’ve shared together between study sessions that somehow became just tutoring sessions as you all tried to force information into Hinata and Kageyama’s heads and exhausted nights where all of you slumped in front of Coach Ukai’s store eating meat buns and chatting away until he kicked all of you out and made you go home. But that smile turns downwards when you think about some of the more recent and less positive changes in your friends.

You can’t quite put your finger on it. You know the six of you are exceptionally close, almost weirdly close, but you had just chalked it up to the fact that you all see each other for hours every day between classes, volleyball, and after school and weekend study sessions and hangouts. Yet that doesn’t stop the slight unease from growing inside of you as you observe the increasingly strange behaviors your friends exhibit and it’s only become more...physical...now that you’re all in your third year and officially all adults. 

You had visibly winced when Yachi had first introduced you to Hinata and the orange haired ball of energy had decided to scream a greeting at you, but you couldn’t keep the wide grin from spreading across your face as you got swept up in his enthusiasm. Every moment with him felt like riding an exhilarating roller coaster and maybe that’s why you barely noticed how strange it was that he came knocking on your door almost every single day asking you to come hang out or jog with him, how strange it was that he texted you as soon as you got up, blowing up your phone all day until you went to sleep. You were so caught up in the wild ride that Hinata Shouyou was that you never had the chance to get off and think about how you had even gotten on this ride in the first place and when was the last time you had been able to take a break from it. You were still flipping upside down in loops as you entered your third year and the ride just became more intense as he began wrapping his wiry arms around you at practice, nonchalantly talking to the rest of the team with your body firmly pulled against him and his chin resting on your shoulder. You had shooed him off of you the first few times, but he had turned his huge puppy eyes on you and no one else on the team seemed to care, so you just went along with it. 

Kageyama took a little more time to warm up to you, but you didn’t take it personally knowing how reserved he was. However, over time and after a particularly long study session you had personally sat with him through, he had left a carton of his favorite milk on your desk and you had beamed at the innocent object. He started hovering around you more after that. The two of you never really spoke much, but you enjoyed the peaceful and comfortable quiet that surrounded both of you and yet, despite his silence, you noticed that he spoke loudly through his actions. You were beyond shocked the first time you had sat down to lunch with him, ready to dig into your food, when he had frowned at your bento, taken it from you, and removed some of your rice while adding more meat and vegetables without saying a single word to you. Mouth still open in disbelief, you had pierced him with a questioning look only to receive a muttered reply about making sure you were eating a balanced diet. Your heart had fluttered at the endearing reasoning, but it had become a bit strange later on when he would hand feed you, practically shoving a stalk of broccoli or a piece of chicken in your mouth even at times that you said you were too full to eat anymore. But that just meant Kageyama cared for you, right? You know the boy’s terrible when it comes to social interactions, so you shrug it off.

Yamaguchi has arguably gone through the most dramatic personality change since you had first met him and you’re so proud of the confident leader he’s become. But even in your second year with him, you had sworn that sometimes there was a hint of something...darker, hungry...something lurking underneath his shy facade that made you shiver in fear. But every time you tried to take a closer look it disappeared only to be replaced with a soft gaze. And now that he’s fully grown into himself, he’s become more physical with everyone, casually slinging his arms around everyone’s shoulders and backs in a comforting, friendly manner as he rallies up team morale. But you can almost swear that when he slings an arm around you in thanks or in greeting, his arm gets progressively lower to the point that you almost recoil from him when you feel his hand brush against the hem of your skirt. But he’s always quick to move away from you and you wonder if all of it is just your imagination or an accident on his part. 

You're briefly distracted from your thoughts as loud shouting fills the gym and your eyes are drawn to Tsukishima’s figure as it leaps through the air and blocks a spiked ball. Honestly, you’re surprised you’re even friends with him, let alone close friends. He had been nice enough to not insult you like he did with the rest of the boys, but on the other hand, he rarely spoke even a word to you or acknowledged your presence. But as you hung out with the group more, you noticed the tall shadow that seemed to always walk beside you between classes, to the cafeteria, and back home. And he’d only grown bolder in your last year, wrapping a large hand around your wrist and forcefully dragging you with him when the both of you were running late for volleyball practice. You were so caught up in keeping up with his long strides and complaining loudly about his tight grip on you that you didn’t notice the terrifying glares he shot at any male who even looked at you as the two of you walked through the school halls.  

And finally, Yachi, your sweet and adorable best friend. The two of you had hit it off right away as soon as you met each other and it was like you were connected at the hip ever since. You can’t even keep track of the amount of sleepovers, weekend trips, day trips, girl talks, and everything else you’ve done together. But you had found it a little weird when she had slept over for the first time after both of you had officially turned eighteen and insisted on sleeping in the same futon as you. Assuming she was just feeling a bit lonely and nostalgic, you let her slip under the covers with you and drifted off to sleep, unaware of the hand wandering across your resting figure. After that night, she kept on finding her way into your futon and it soon just became the norm for the both of you and you grew accustomed to falling asleep with her body heat next to yours, your dreams suddenly full of feather light touches. 

Yes, they’ve all definitely changed since you first met them all, but they’re still your closest friends despite all their new quirks, and perhaps it’s just the natural transition of entering adulthood that’s affected them. People change. You aren’t kids anymore. Of course they’d be different now. But that conviction struggles to stick in your mind when you’re stuck in the gym alone with all of them after practice every day. Yamaguchi’s always quick to dismiss the first and second years the minute practice is done and he politely assures the coaches that you all would be fine cleaning up the equipment and locking the gym up as he bids them good night. It becomes normal for the six of you to take down the nets and round up all the volleyballs and yet your hackles rise as you swear you can feel multiple pairs of eyes intensely staring at you as you bend over to pick up stray balls. You swear you feel a hand drag and linger across your ass as someone helps you lower the net. You swear it almost feels like they want to devour you as they linger a moment too long in the doorway of the equipment room, not immediately letting you pass when you try to exit. But you have no proof and the moments happen so fast that you wonder if you’re just becoming more paranoid for no reason. 

You really should have trusted your gut. 

There’s an excited buzz in the air as the team hops off of the bus and intermingles with the Tokyo teams. It’s the first training camp of the year and everyone’s busy catching up with old friends and meeting new people. You struggle to lift a bag of equipment and almost drop it when a hand reaches out and catches it before it hits the ground. Stunned by the surprising interaction, you quickly whip around and smile when you see Inuoka beaming down at you. The two of you hug and he walks with you to the dorm rooms, helping you carry everything as both of you catch up, unaware of the many pairs of eyes darkly staring at your backs.

Karasuno has always been close to Nekoma and that hasn’t changed over the years, so when the teams aren’t practicing, you happily joke around with the Nekoma third-years, laughing at Lev’s stupid shenanigans and conversing with Inuoka and Shibayama. A part of you feels guilty for not spending more time with your own team, but it’s so rare that you get an ample amount of time with your Nekoma friends and you brush the feeling off. Surely your friends would understand. But the narrowed eyes, clenched fists, and tight jaws across the room are hardly understanding as they lock in on the sight of Lev excitedly grabbing your hands as he asks you something, the sight of Inuoka resting his hand on your shoulder as he talks, the sight of Shibayama’s eyes lingering a bit too long on your face when he thinks you aren’t looking.

The week flies by and all too soon it’s the last night of camp and you horse around with the Nekoma boys, loudly shouting and fooling around well past curfew. But you know the coaches are turning a blind eye to any mischief tonight, letting you all do as you want as a thank you for all your hard work and dedication. Inuoka and Shibayama are cheering you on as you have Lev in a headlock, but all of a sudden your phone vibrates and you reluctantly release the lanky giant before opening up the unread text.

From Yachi: Come hang out with the rest of the third-years and me! It’s probably going to be our last training camp all together so we want to make some new memories together. 

Guilt gnaws at your heart when you read her message and you immediately rise and say goodbye to the rowdy boys before rushing off to your own team. The Karasuno third-year boys had managed to secure their own dorm room and you excitedly open the door only to yelp as a hand grabs you by the collar of your shirt and you vaguely register the sound of the door slamming shut as you’re shoved to the ground and adjusted until you’re on all fours. You try to shove off the hands that are tearing off your clothes, but tired of your flailing, Tsukishima wraps a hand around your throat and squeezes and squeezes until you stop you’re struggling, choosing instead to wheeze and claw at the arm restricting your air flow and only when you’re completely naked with Kageyama pressed tightly behind you, holding your waist in a bruising grip, does he let go.

You gasp for breath as you stare up at the blonde with teary eyes. “Why are you guys doing this?” You pray that it’s all a terrible joke, just a prank gone out of hand, but you flinch as Tsukishima sneers down at you. 

“What? Upset that we aren’t your Nekoma boyfriends instead? Tell me, if we hadn’t asked you to come here, would you be letting them fuck you all night long? Of course you would, you fucking slut. You have four cocks and a pussy literally just waiting for you to say the word and they’d be all yours, but no, you just had to go off and be a little whore, letting those fucking cats put their paws all over you instead. We don’t share. You’re ours, do you understand?” 

Tsukishima smirks at the fear in your eyes. “Well, even if you your stupid little bimbo brain can’t understand that now, it’ll be engrained in your mind and body after we’re all through with you tonight. Open your mouth.” You try to twist your face away as he lowers his pants, letting his cock spring out and hit your face, but his hand threateningly hovers over your throat once more and you obediently take him into your mouth. He’s so long and you begin to gag with only half of him inside of you. With an irritated sigh, he painfully grabs you by the roots of your hair and forcefully shoves the rest of his length down your throat and you try to scream around the object stretching your jaw, but you’re muffled as he starts pistoning his hips in and out of your wet cavern and tears stream down your face as your throat burns from the abuse. You’re so distracted by the struggle of trying to breathe that you don’t even notice the movement behind you until you feel something hard nudging past your entrance and shame washes over you at Kageyama’s words. 

“She’s already so wet.” You clench your eyes shut as Tsukishima laughs and only ruts into your mouth faster. “God, you’re pretending to cry and hate it, but you love this, don’t you? You love being fucked from both ends. You’re such a fucking cock slut.” He emphasizes each word with a harsh thrust and your eyes roll back as his tip hits the back of your throat at the same time that Kageyama bottoms out into you. You’re so full and you swear your jaw might unhinge itself from trying to accommodate Tsukishima’s cock and yet you can’t help the way your hips start rocking back to meet Kageyama’s thrusts as he takes his time sliding in and out of you at a languid pace, relishing the feeling of your tight walls clenching and sliding across every inch of his shaft. 

You shake your head as much as you can with Tsukishima’s fingers still tightly interwoven in your locks, trying to deny the degrading accusations Tsukishima relentlessly spits at you, but you can’t help the moan that escapes you as Tsukishima curses and pulls out, hurriedly giving himself a few more strokes before painting your face with thick white streaks. Your cunt unconsciously clenches from the humiliation of being so lewdly marked and Kageyama hisses before increasing his pace and you collapse to your elbows as Kageyama desperately chases his end while Tsukishima crouches in front of you, reaching around to play with your clit. And despite the horribleness of the entire situation, you can’t help but fall apart and your quivering walls are all it takes for Kageyama to release deep inside of you.

Kageyama has enough foresight to at least gently lower you down to the floor after he pulls out of you and you lay there on the hard surface, wishing it would just swallow you whole and take you anywhere from here. But of course that doesn’t happen and you weakly sob when you hear Yamaguchi’s soft, but commanding voice ordering you to kneel in front of him. You raise yourself up on shaky arms and move to stand up, but Tsukishima’s hand keeps you down. “Crawl like the bitch that you are.” You tremble from emotional and physical exhaustion as you make your way towards the captain, placing one hand and foot in front of the other, and you cringe at the feeling of Kageyama’s cum beginning to trickle down your inner thigh, but soon enough you’re in between his thighs as he sits on a chair above you. 

His cock is already out and even though he’s not as big as Tsukishima, your mouth still goes dry at the thought of trying to take him in your still aching mouth. You begin to lick him, taking in just his tip and swirling your tongue around him before delicately licking down his entire length, anything to buy you some time before you need to use your mouth again, but you push off of him with a scream, your hands tightly clutching his thighs as Hinata slides underneath your spread legs and licks a long stripe across your pussy. Yamaguchi is patient with you, enjoying the way drool begins to leak out the sides of your mouth as you moan from Hinata’s enthusiastic licks, but his cock twitches at a high pitched whine that exits your throat and he places a hand on your head and firmly pushes you back down to his leaking cock. 

You’re sloppy, unable to fully control your mouth as you moan and drool while Hinata’s tongue pushes inside of you, tasting every inch of you. But the sight of you slobbering all over his cock and the debauched mess of it all only makes it feel better for Yamaguchi and he can’t help the way his hips buck up into you when he finally finishes and he hungrily drinks in the sight of your throat swallowing every drop of him. Your thighs begin to clench and your body is taut as you can feel another climax quickly approaching and when Yamaguchi casually twists and pulls your nipples with his fingers, your back sharply arches as you open your mouth in a silent scream. You stay in that shape for a few seconds until the pleasure begins to ebb away and you try to move away, but Hinata’s arms wrap around you, holding you in place, and you wail as he earnestly continues lapping and sucking at every inch of your drenched pussy that he can reach. Your upper body collapses into Yamaguchi’s lap as he tenderly strokes your hair and it feels like ages before Hinata finally reliquinches his grip on you and moves out from under you. 

You shakily whimper as Yamaguchi soothingly whispers into your ear about what a good slut you are, how beautiful you look when you’re falling apart because of them, but you have no energy to push yourself away from him and you lay there, with your face in between his thighs and your arms splayed over his legs. You can feel your eyelids fluttering shut and just when you think you’ll at least be able to escape into the shelter of your own unconsciousness, strong hands pull you off of Yamaguchi and lay you flat on your back. It’s not comfortable, but you’re at least glad to finally relieve your knees which you’re sure will be black and blue tomorrow. But any small consolation you felt instantly dissipates when you see Hinata hovering over you and you don’t even have a second to understand what’s happening before he shoves his entire length into you in one swift motion. 

After being stretched out by Kageyama and thoroughly lubricated with the sticky mix of your own juices and the setter’s cum, Hinata easily slides in and there’s no pain as he fills you, but this new position means there’s nowhere for you to hide your face from the predatory eyes staring down at you and the humiliation is so much worse as you’re fully aware of Hinata intently staring at your slutty fucked out expression as he continuously rams in and out of you. Your eyes are so far back in your head that it’s hard to clearly see and maybe that’s why you don’t notice the growing shadow covering your face until it’s too late and your nose and mouth are covered by a musky warm scent. Sex. It smells like sex. You rapidly blink the pleasure from your eyes as you try to focus your vision, but you wish you hadn’t when the image of Yachi’s small breasts bouncing above you as she rides your face sears itself into your brain. You try to close your mouth as tightly as you can, refusing to service the woman above you, but it’s so hard to breathe with her pussy covering the bottom half of your face and accidental moans are forced from you as Hinata continues railing into you, which only cause Yachi to grind and moan more as the vibrations from your mouth stimulate her slick heat. 

Later you’ll try and convince yourself that it was just survival instinct, just you trying to do what you needed to do to breathe, to have everything be over and that you aren’t eagerly drinking Yachi’s essence that never seems to stop flowing on your face as your lips and tongue explore every inch of her more intimately than you’d ever dreamed of doing. You’ll deny you felt any pleasure despite the wanton moans you can’t stop releasing and the powerful orgasm that wracks through your body as Hinata’s cum mixes with the mess between your legs and as Yachi’s hips stutter as she smears her release all over your face. But for now you lay there, in a pool of your own liquids and the fluids of the five people towering over your limp and used body, drowning in the dangerously intoxicating pleasure they’ve submerged you in. 

A tiny screeching voice inside of your head tells you to get up, get away and despite the dazed state you’re in, your hands attempt to push you up and it feels like you’re stuck in molasses as you excruciatingly slowly push yourself up into a sitting position and it takes everything left inside of you to feebly move your legs as you attempt to rise. But just when you almost have your feet underneath you, something is pressed against your chest and you’re pushed back down and you whimper at the heavy embarrassing weight of the foot squarely planted in the middle of your chest, stepping on you, keeping you down. Tsukishima’s never looked taller as he leers down at you.

“That’s cute. Did you really think we’d let you just get up and walk away from us? We’re nowhere near done with you. We’re not stopping until we literally fuck you to sleep and make sure that your body is so worn out that we know you’ll be safe and sound in your own futon tonight and not sneaking off to whore yourself out to anyone else.” 

And if you’ve learned anything from managing this team, it’s that they’re relentless in the pursuit of their goals and for the first time since you’ve managed them, you feel a pang of pity for the teams they’ve crushed and destroyed, wondering if this is how all their opponents feel as the five of them pounce on you with the intent of thoroughly dominating and conquering you.   

[nico-no-talk]

I have decided to make more headcanons of the gang and maybe go more in depth to a particular one that we may all know of

Sunny

As I said before, this boy can fit so much autistic symptoms

His parents are quiet close with their kids but it seems like they messed some things up like parents do: Mari is somewhat a perfectionist and Sunny may have undiagnosed autism

Quickly headcanoning Sunny's name might be Hikaru or any name that means light

ANYWAY, as he grew up, the more he verbally opened up to his friends and still uneasy with his family, except for Mari.

Sunny likes to play with toys like any other kid does but he only likes toys that he can role play with such as his stuffed toys and building blocks that he can make homes for

When he was in this 11th year of being alive, his parents got rid of his building blocks as a way to help him 'grow up' since what kind of 11-year old play with building blocks still? They didn't touch his stuffed toys since they knew he would kick and scream way more than with his blocks

Sunny was devastated when he learned his parents tossed his blocks and cried for weeks that his friends, his stuffed toys, didn't have homes anymore

Mari decided to earn money with Hero's help to get him a new set so he won't be sad anymore, and knew he liked the feeling of smooth wood against his skin

After his 12th birthday party, Mari asked to not toss this set out and just keep it for any kids that Mari and Sunny may have in the future. Even Mari wasn't sure if Sunny would want kids, but it was something that managed to convince their parents

Speaking of Sunny speaking, he is somewhat semi-verbal around his friends but he does talk most of the time with them since he felt like it doesn't hurt when talking to them unlike with the rest of his family.

Speaking of family again, Mari's name might be short for Mariko since the transition to the 'ko' may have been difficult for Sunny to pronounce but her name might actually be Mari since it is a Japanese name as it does mean 'real logic' if written in a certain way

Their parents may have gotten a speech therapist for Sunny to help him pronounce words better and so the other adults will stop saying things how strange he is

Stims includes, minor biting, finger snapping, whistles, finger tapping, hand flaps, and random noises. Why random noises? Because I do too

Post-canon, Sunny's mom decided to actually get him diagnose and help him out more so he can graduate in school quickly since he did drop out of middle school

He did managed to get back in school within his age-grade and goes to separate rooms during testing for his classes

For long weekends, he tries to visit his friends as often as he can, especially Kel since he likes the way Kel's hair feels and enjoys feeling the callousness on his hands

Mari

Mari Mari Mari

She is a perfectionist, even towards herself since he parents often compared Sunny to her, saying how Mari was able to do a lot of things when she was Sunny's age

Seeing how they made her a goal for Sunny, she tried to be the perfect image of what it is to be normal

Do after school activities, have hobbies, play music, have friends, fall in love, have long hair since she's a girl and he's a boy, only like boys and show him to only like girls, so on and so on

After the building block incident, thats when she realizes that Sunny will never be a 'normal' kid and go out of her way to make his life easier. She'll continue to be his role model but for a new and better reason

She bought him some of his stuffed toys since he liked the texture, picked out clothes that he liked but had to make the tough choice of getting him 'normal' looking clothes so he won't get bullied, eat any of the food he hates, continued to play the piano since he likes the sound, is happy that she stopped softball because he hated going out to her games because of how loud it is and it felt cramped to him, and so many other things

When hanging out with the gang, Mari allowed herself to relax and not focus on Sunny

Kel

Middle child syndrome screams

Despite it being just being him and Hero for the longest time, he was still an afterthought for his parents when it comes to Hero and Sally

He didn't mind. He thought thats how parents are with multiple kids. Sunny's parents were kind of the same as his so he thought he was right but Basil's didn't make any sense

Like everyone else, he has never met Basil's parents and thought they just worked all day and play with Basil at night

But Basil said it wasn't, so it confused him more but he stopped questioning it after thinking about it for a while

As Kel gotten older, the more he realizes that he sort of has 'jumpies' like Sunny does but it was different. It helped him feel less tighten-up and felt better

He asked Hero during on of his visits, Hero explained that Kel may have ADHD or ADD.

"Oh" it clicked

Kel wanted to do something 'smart' on his own for once and decided to research on his own about himself and Sunny

He learned lots of things and became more open minded about a lot of things: gender, sexuality, neurodiversity, polyamory relationships, religion, and many other things

Hero

Biggest Asexual with Mari as well

Only became an overachiever because he loved the praise he got from everyone

Honestly, I dont got much for Hero, sorry man

Aubrey

Bisexual energy

Her father made sure she was a perfect little girl: wears dresses and skirts, like pink, wears a bow all the time, keep herself neat, come home right after school and ask first if she wants to keep playing, not playing with boys especially the rough playing boys

After loosing her shoe and meeting everyone, she decided to stay around them and be herself: rough housing, wear blue, wear spare shorts that either Mari, Sunny, or Kel may have, take off her bow as often as possible, be out of the house as possible to be with her friends, and may have a crush on an older girl you see almost everyday

When her dad left, everything came down: mom gave up, money became tight, Mari is gone, no one is around with her, and start doing things she never done before because of obligated morals

She started dating Kim, hung out with the hooligans, wore 'less' clothing, rude, crude, tomboy, carried weapons, and dyed her hair

Post-canon, she stopped some of her bad habits: wore clothes that are modest whenever she felt like it, a little more polite but still a little rude, stopped carrying weapons, and kept the pink hair in memory of Mari. Still dating Kim since she loves her more than anything in the world

Basil

Who the fuck names their kid Basil? His name was probably Jermey and just he liked the word Basil so much that he said a lot instead of his birth name. He got the name Basil since it was the first thing he planted

For years, no one in the gang knew Basil was a nickname, just accepted that his name was Basil and his parents just liked plants, not realizing his parents are not around a lot

Bet you anything, since Basil vents to Sunny a lot, he may have talked to him about sexuality and gender a lot with him, coming out to him as gay and might be non-binary in some way, still wasn't sure

Sunny was the one he told that Basil was a nickname but he wants to be his actual name

"But, your name has always been Basil, hasn't it?" Sunny asked

Basil had vowed to protect Sunny at all costs since that day and also be proud of himself no matter what and to always introduce himself as Basil, no matter how scared he was

Post-canon, after being in the hospital and some for of mental hospital for some time, after being officially released, Basil came out to everyone else

"Wait, so Basil was a name you picked this whole time?! That is so cool!" Kel cheered as he lifts Basil up in the air in joy

No one dared to ask what his deadname was and use whatever pronouns he asks them to use: He/They but still struggles to respond to they/them pronouns since he never told anyone else other than Sunny

Annnnnnnd thats all I got. Feel free to ask more from me

[limitless-shadows]

Picking up gofushi crumbs from the manga pt. 3

Disclaimer: Beware of anime/manga/fanbook/light novel spoilers. This is just me commenting on the manga with the lenses of a gofushi fan. So... it’s just my opinion.

This section runs from chapter 26 to 79.

About character developments, gofushi first meeting, “Oh, nothing <3″, and others.

[Chapter 26]

Bless Yuuji’s imagination creating gofushi material LOL

[Chapter 32]

Megumi’s disappointed and nonchalant face when others connect “that moron” to Gojou www :surprisedpikachu: it’s even more funny when it’s Megumi who says that.

[Chapter 33]

Megumi being sharp at noticing changes in Yuuji. If he’s that keen, would he have sensed anything different on Gojou after Getou’s death?

[Chapter 45]

“You really can tell even with that guy’s drawing” Dang it, now I have to add great artist to my list of type standards.

Well, Gojou can do almost anything as stated in the fanbook, so it shouldn’t be a surprise that he can communicate well with art as a medium. Ack, is that why Nobara said he had high standards.

I like how fast Megumi is able to dial Gojou’s number here www

[Chapter 55]

If Megumi never tells them anything, what do they think about the gofushi dynamic? Domestic feeling? lolol

Especially Yuuji, who can be perceptive (when he noticed that Junpei was being bothered by his teacher).

[Chapter 56]

Knowing Gojou’s schedule again.

[Chapter 58]

Aaah it implies that Megumi doesn’t usually ask Gojou to train him :(

"Is it that annoying? To ask me?"

...either doesnt want to ask him because he is annoying and/or because he doesn’t want to feel more indebted to him ;-;

I like the face that Gojou makes here haha like: eeeeh~ why is that? what’s wrong that you don’t want to ask me

Did Gojou realize Megumi’s self sacrificing tendencies from just the bunt? or did that already confirm previous suspicions? I liked the anime adaptation of it~

Of course Gojou would be so angry at that that his finger flick made Megumi's forehead bleed. Megumi who isn't growing up in the correct way to be strong enough as was asked from Gojou during their first meeting:

“You better get strong, don’t get left behind.”

And also Megumi throwing away his life in such a manner after Gojou protects him so much ;-; Gojou knows Megumi has plenty of potential but isn’t tapping on it effectively. Disappointment.

Then follows it up by asking him to be selfish so he can grow up strong (it's ok to ask your sensei for training! ;-;). Megumi freeing himself from the chains that bind him to a lesser self valuing is such an amazing character development.

Adding to it is that this flashback was used as the base for Megumi’s change aaaah

I also wanted to add that Ep23 was released 1-2 days before this post and it was such a great adaptation of this chapter with the sunset, the shadows and if that wasnt enough gofushi food, they went with the jujusanpo and and violinteacherhomewreckersformationbgaaah

what is formation a??? or c??? the gofushi interpretation of megumi’s gomeeeeeeeen?andsorrythatepisodewastoogoodImenjoyingthenewgofushiviolinarts

[Chapter 59]

A suspicious dude with white hair who is tactless.

Yaaay way to go with first impressions :D It's funny how Gojou hasn't changed and is still disrespectful in his speech XD

[Chapter 79]

Gojou guessing that Megumi already manifested his cursed technique...

While the fanbook said that he wanted to recruit a talented person, I also fancy believing that Gojou didn’t want Megumi to grow up under a harsh Zen’in training.

Ah. I like how Gojou kneeled down to talk to him about his father’s death. Imagine a 190+ cm tall stranger coming to you, a 6 year old, and telling you from that high up that he killed your father lololol

At this height, Gojou is near Megumi’s stature or at least close to seeing him eye to eye. That pose is also less threatening and even seems childish in Gojou manner lolol but that’s sometimes how Gojou approaches serious things: in a joking way.

Gojou has such a similar reaction where he doesn't say what he is thinking directly, but masks it. In the chapter where Todou says that they should continue with the exchange event, he questions Todou’s age XD and here he asks if he really is a first grader.

That right panel tho... what was going through his mind in that moment? Surprise? Pity? This kid is not normal.

Akutami-sensei Q&A mentioned that the one to tell Megumi about his father was going to be Gojou... and I wonder how it’s going to go? also, Gojou getting out of the box? aaa-

I wonder how it must have felt for Megumi... when the suspicious dude with white hair actually did take care of things. The fanbook with the following Q&A for Fushiguro:

Q: How did he become so insightful?

A: Maybe it's because he has negative thinking and doesn't just trust people.

Source: JJK Official Fanbook (fan translation)

Oof, his own upbringing made him like that. Especially with how he regards himself...

When it says that he “doesn’t just trust people”, Megumi then probably didn’t expect much from Gojou after their first meeting and is surprised when Gojou comes back :(

His father and mother leaving him, but Gojou coming back... although the situation doesn’t get better when later on Tsumiki goes into a coma and Gojou is sealed...

He will take care of things after a hehe~  ;-; 

---

Oh, yeah and:

Q: Has he known Maki and Mai even before entering the school?

A: Yes. When Gojo was working on Megumi and the Zenin clan issue, he took him to the Zenin house, so I think that's when they first met.

source: JJK Official Fanbook (fan translation) (same as above)

Seems like the Zen’in house is in Kyoto? Because of Maki and Mai’s birthplace not to mention Naoya’s kansai dialect. So... did they go on a trip to Kyoto? :D

---

Then, Gojou counting on shotagumi to work extra hard.... so he can be strong ;-; and maybe become part of his nakama group to change Jujutsu's society huhuhu

On the topic about being granted a choice, I only came to realize it after reading this excellent work, Close Your Eyes (To See) it’s a lovely soulmate fanfic, please consider reading it if you haven’t ^^. Megumi usually goes on about unfairness randomly granted on people, so to be given a choice about going to the Zen’ins or not is quite big. Particularly when it comes to how the Zen’ins would have treated Tsumiki, a non sorcerer. It’s too good.

The look when he says that ;-; counting on Megumi to get strong enough to rival Gojou? Then Gojou wouldn’t be the only one going against the conservative higher ups.

When Gojou closes his eyes, it seems to convey regret/resolution where he sets in motion his plan to reform the Jujutsu society so that no more sorcerers go stray or overwhelmed by duties following a rigid doctrine ;-; as if preventing them becoming like Getou. And thats so aaah because while I knew what Gojou's wish was, I didn't know the why behind it, and that would be a great reason. Megumi has been with Gojou since the start (or near the beginning of it), so it’s even more beautiful.

That transition from closed to eyes to the present where the 1st year trio wakes him up. Was he recalling all those events during the nap?

I- I just love Megumi's pouty face here. But it's still not that angry looking, more like, he is used to it (as always). Then my gofushi brain telling me that there is a hint of concern in Megumi's look- its almost affectionate. Could it be concern because he is worried about how much sleep he gets.

About Gojou’s sleep:

Q: How many hours does he sleep?

A: Seems like only for a short while.

source: JJK Official Fanbook (fan translation)

And Megumi being aware of his tendency to eat sweet things:

“When he’s busy, Gojou-sensei tend to eat more sweets like these, after all…”

source: JJK First Light Novel - Chapter 1 (fan translation)

aaaaaaaaaaah

Gojou lifting his blindfold to look at Megumi with his left eye because Megumi is on his left side.

Wait... it’s the same left eye from the second opening of the first season.... is that a hint.

The legendary “Oh, nothing <3″ with the heart~

Is he being fond of Megumi because of dreaming about their first encounter or because Megumi did get strong, or, or, both of those. aaaah what if it was from recalling everything that happened in the 9 years they've known each other? Calm down! Probably because he got strong comrades now! ;-; i-it’s not just because of Megumi! ...but I like how he has his body turned to Megumi only...

It's a "Megumi has been with him all this time (9 years) while he is trying to achieve his dream and he became this strong"

They... they just look so good together ;-; my gofushi feelings... Chapter 79 is special grade.

[Part 4]

[moss-lyman]

I absolutely adore your writing. Because I'm a masochist, can I ask for “I’m leaving.” “Of course you are, that’s all you know how to do"...but maybe with a less-angsty finish 🥺

I am a big masochist, so this was right up my alley ;)

set post-series.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m tired, Josh, and this conversation is going nowhere, so I’m leaving.”

“Of course you are,” he says, fire in his eyes. “That’s all you know how to do.”

She rounds on him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve left me twice already, Donna. Both without so much as a goodbye. I guess I should be grateful you’re giving me a heads up this time.”

“That’s not fair. This is different and you know it.”

“I think it is fair,” he argues. “Because I’m right here.” He spreads his arms wide. “I’m not running, I’m not avoiding you, and I have never left you.” She rolls her eyes and it spurs him on further. “I was there, committing fucking perjury for you and saving not only your job, but keeping you out of jail. I was there after that bullshit with Jack or- or when you found out your granddad died.” He brings his hand up to tick off his fingers. “I was there at 4 in the morning when those creepy neighbor guys wouldn’t leave you alone. I was there in Germany without a second thought, Donna. I was there! You keep leaving. Not me.”

She stands frozen by his front door, both of their breathing coming out a little heavier as they stare at each other. She watches as he unclenches his fist and roughly runs his fingers through his hair, spinning around so he isn’t facing her anymore.

“If you leave,” he murmurs, still not looking at her. “That’s it. I can’t keep going in circles, Donna. Either you want this or you don’t.”

Her mouth quirks at that. They really have switched places with him giving her an ultimatum. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and slowly walks over to him. He doesn’t react when she grabs his hand, so she walks around so they’re face to face.

“I don’t want to leave,” she says quietly. “But I need for you to hear me.”

“Donna, I hear you loud and clear, alright?”

“No, you don’t. You’re listening, but you’re not hearing me.” She challenges him with her body language, but he doesn’t move, just holds her hand tighter. “You’re right. At least on part of it,” she starts. “And I’ll give you the first time, but if you think it was easy for me to leave you last year, you’re wrong. That was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, Josh, and that includes Gaza.”

Josh grips her hand tighter and steps back to sit them down on the couch, not letting her go.

“You weren’t hearing me back then either and I felt like my only option was to leave and it killed me. You have no idea how many times I picked up the phone to call you and beg for my job back, but I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” he asks softly.

“My whole life revolved around you. Everything I did, everything, was tied to you in some way. I thought I was getting away with it, but when CJ called me out—“

“Hold on,” he interrupts. “What do you mean CJ called you out?”

“Before Gaza,” she murmurs, rubbing his knuckles with her thumb. “During the lockdown, she basically said you were underutilizing me and I let you because... it’s you. I was staying in an unsatisfactory job because it meant I still got to be with you and hearing someone else say it was one of the most humiliating moments of my life and then Gaza happened and you came to me.” She smiles softly at him and rubs his forearm as his brow creases in concern. “And I thought we had a moment, but I got back and it was like nothing had changed, we were still doing the same song and dance we’d been doing, and it pissed me off.”

“We did have a moment,” he assures.

“I know we did, but I felt like I butchered it with Colin - who, by the way, was just a reaction to what CJ said - and when I got back to work, it was just made more and more clear that I wasn’t going to get what I wanted from you. With my job or otherwise.”

“I should’ve made the time,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry.”

“I was mad at you for a long time, but I still missed you like crazy. It was very confusing.”

He grins. “I know what that’s like.”

“And I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but I’m glad I left. It made me stand on my own two legs and do something on my own, with no ulterior motives behind it. It was mine even if my candidate lost to yours, I at least knew I was capable and didn’t need you professionally to be successful.”

Josh sits quietly for a moment, looking at their interlocked hands as she continues to run her thumb over his knuckles. He takes a deep breath. “Where does that leave us now?”

She smiles. “Well, that depends.”

“On what?”

She searches his gaze and squeezes his hand. “On how sure you are.”

“About what?”

“About this,” she clarifies. “Me. Us.”

“I already told you—“

“I know you’re not leaving. I mean about the living situation. It’s a big - massive - step and I don’t want to just dive right in if we’re not ready because I’ve waited so long for this, Josh,” she says, pleading with him. “I don’t want anything to mess it up. This is too important. So, if me keeping my apartment - just for now,” she amends when he opens his mouth to protest, “will help, then I’ll do it. Transition is insane even if it’s two Democrat administrations, so I would completely understand if—“

“I want you here,” he says firmly, looking right at her. “I want you right here. Not across town. Here. With me.”

“You’re sure?”

He groans and tilts his head back dramatically before looking back at her. “I need for you to hear me now, alright?” he says and he grabs her face with both of his hands. “You are my girlfriend and I am your boyfriend, and as your boyfriend, I am asking you to please, for the love of God, move in with me.”

Her smile grows. “Well, since you asked nicely.” She laughs when he tackles her back onto the couch and she brings his face to hers, kissing him chastely. “I’ll move in,” she murmurs.

“Permanently,” he mumbles, his lips dragging down her throat. “Tell your landlord your stuff will be out by next week.”

“Permanently.” She wraps her leg over his to widen her hips, letting him lay more comfortably over her. “No more leaving. I promise.”

Josh pulls back and brings a hand up, his pinky out. “Pinky swear?”

Donna wraps her own pinky with his. “Pinky swear.”

He grins, satisfied, and moves her hand to wrap around his neck. “Since we’re officially live-in lovers, we have to consummate it,” he says, his dimples deepening when she pinches the back of his neck. “In every room. It’s the rules.”

She smirks and runs her fingers into his hair. “Oh, is it?”

He nods again. “Yep.”

Donna wraps her other leg around his waist. “Well, since it’s the rules...”

And she draws him down again.

[beca-mitchell]

religion's in your lips (even if it's a false god) (1/1)

Summary: Beca still wants Chloe in whatever way she can get her, even at her own detriment. Rated M/E for sex.

This is for @asimplefavors in thanks for her donation and participation in @ppfandomdrive. This is part of the now i see daylight au.

Word count: 4,944

Read below or on AO3.

* * * * *

Age: 19 Location: New York City, NY Month: December

* * * * *

 Not that Beca’s counting, but this is the fourth month since her break-up with Chloe and the first time since meeting Chloe at five years old that she’s been uncertain about going into the new year without her best friend by her side.

It’s weird. It’s uncertain.

But most of all, it feels like she’s never really going to get over that break-up—her first break-up ever—anytime soon.

It stings, months later, even though Beca knows that Chloe had her reasons for wanting to go their separate ways; even though Beca knows now that she and Chloe hadn’t been working for a while; even though there had been problems on both ends.

It isn’t worth analyzing, not now to Beca at least. The short story is simple enough, rife with enough heartache: it had been too much too fast and they hadn’t been ready to handle it enough.

Still, years of friendship with Chloe has made Beca somewhat of an optimist (a bad one regardless), so she kind of keeps hoping for some kind of refrain to their story, not a coda. The distance between them now feels oppressive—jarring in ways that Beca could have never imagined—even if Beca knows with every fiber of her being that Chloe is closer to her than ever before (physically at least) since they’re both likely in the same city.

Chloe had adapted easily to her transfer to Columbia from Barden, as Beca had expected. They had barely exchanged texts, just simple greetings and congratulatory messages from time to time—as often as they could within the span of the four months they had officially been broken up. Within that time, however, Beca felt more and more desperate to stay connected to Chloe despite everything. It had taken Beca everything to not mention offhandedly that she knew Chloe had started lowkey seeing somebody (or at least sleeping with somebody—though Beca isn’t sure which is the more comforting thought) around the end of October or early November.

...not that Beca had been keeping track.

Or, rather, more accurately put, she doesn’t want to keep track. It just seems like she’s not very good at getting her way when it comes to Chloe Beale.

  * * * * *

 It wasn’t like Beca necessarily had other plans for the New Year. A lackluster collection of messages sit on her phone from her father, her mother, and even her step-siblings, but none of them really invigorated her into wanting to spend time with any of them (and if she’s being painfully honest with herself, she’s almost certain that they’re not wholly interested in spending that much time with her either). Even her increasingly growing circle of friends in Los Angeles didn’t really feel like the right group of people to spend the new year with.

But, even with that on Beca’s mind, all of this had been Theo’s idea. Beca had begrudgingly agreed because she had kind of grown tired of being cooped up in Los Angeles where she would have been happy to spend some quality time in the studio. With the success of her EP and her first full-length album being well on its way, Theo had thought it a good idea to make their rounds to “friends and family” of the Republic Records roster.

It was surreal to say the least, brushing shoulders with people that Beca had once admired from the confines of her bedroom all the way back in Massachusetts, simply hoping that she would have her shot. From her bedroom to the record store where she had spent most days flipping through old albums, daydreaming about music and Chloe and simply wishing for time to fly by so she could finally get her life started.

What she would do to go back to that quiet store, to feel Chloe’s arms draped over her shoulders and her playful giggle in her ear in her attempts to distract Beca from work she had no intention of doing anyway.

Now, at a private party hosted by FLETCHER, Beca has to shake herself more than once simply to get out of the headspace she had been in, good thoughts and bad thoughts alike.

This is, after all, her once in a lifetime opportunity.

  * * * * *

 Scratch that. All of that.

She’s staring right at Chloe Beale at a rented-out abandoned warehouse-apartment. Beca would recognize Chloe anywhere. She can’t quite believe her eyes.

Once in a lifetime opportunities indeed.

  * * * * *

 Chloe looks good.

That’s the first thing Beca notices and she kind of hates herself for it, but it can’t be helped. Her hair is longer, maybe a little curlier, and it falls in loose, beautiful waves over her shoulders. Beca tries to assess whether Chloe looks the same otherwise, but she can’t really tell, not with the dim lighting around them. Beca quickly shakes her head at her companion as she rises from her seat in the corner and darts up to quickly greet Chloe before Chloe has a chance to slip away.

With her heart in her throat, the pressure definitely encroaching on her ability to speak, she steps beside Chloe. She tracks her eyes up the side of Chloe’s face for a moment while Chloe has yet to notice her as Beca moves to lean against the same wall Chloe is leaning again.

It takes a moment but Chloe visibly does a double-take when she twists slightly to observe her new wall partner. Beca’s neck heats and she is thankful immediately for the low light.

“Beca?” Chloe exclaims. “Beca! I—holy crap—” Beca dares to make eye contact, feeling her lips twitch into what feels like a smile even though her heart and brain war against each other to process the emotions swirling in her stomach.

Beca opens her mouth to say something—anything, really, at this point—but words fail her momentarily. She swallows, angling her body towards Chloe as well because to do so feels natural, like they gravitate towards each other on instinct. Something beyond either of their control.

“Come with me?” Beca asks. It is then that it really sinks in for her that she is finally standing in front of Chloe who looks equally surprised to see her. Beca really shouldn’t have been surprised at all, not initially at least, because Chloe always had a way of finding her way into the right crowds, but even more than that, she always had a special knack for finding her way into Beca’s life.

“Okay,” Chloe says. At least, Beca thinks she responds. She wants nothing more than to reach back to grab Chloe’s hand or at least look over her shoulder to see if Chloe is following, but she fears that to look back would mean sending Chloe away again.

When Beca finally dares to look back, she is relieved to see that Chloe followed—that perhaps Chloe would always follow Beca in the same way Beca would for her.

“Hi,” Chloe says, when silence passes between them once more in their more secluded corner; their little corner away from prying eyes and keen ears. “You—” she cuts herself off when she notices Beca is in the middle of speaking as well, gesturing at Beca politely.

“Uh, hi,” Beca greets a bit lamely, for some reason now terrified that Chloe has given her the floor to speak. “You’re...here,” she says stiltedly. “In New York. I mean. Because you go to school here now. But you’re here at this…” She looks around before shrugging a shoulder. “It’s good to see you.”

Chloe smiles, tucking her hair behind her ears in a gesture that seems rather shy to Beca, but endearing nonetheless. “New Year’s treat to myself,” she says in explanation.

“Ah.” Beca tries not to, she really does, but her eyes track down Chloe’s body immediately, taking in Chloe’s outfit. Simple black jeans and a tank top should have no business looking that good on anybody, but Beca feels her mouth go dry at every last forbidden memory that assaults her system. Briefly, she finds herself jealous, like she ought to scan the dwindling crowd and see whether Chloe came with any friends.

Or any one friend in particular.

She drags her eyes back to Chloe quickly, wrestling with her emotions so she can school her expression appropriately. “Did you come alone?” Beca asks, attempting to inject the right amount of curiosity-sans-jealousy into her tone. Nonchalant. She can do that.

Chloe blushes again and something akin to guilt rises up on her cheeks. It’s a bit of a stretch as Chloe takes her time to respond before finally settling on “Did you? Come alone, I mean.” Her gaze dips past Beca’s shoulder to where Beca had been sitting in her corner, half-heartedly paying attention to the conversation she had been engaging in with her plus-one.

A gaze that meant that perhaps Chloe had been more observant than Beca previously assumed. The thought sends heat through Beca’s body, settling somewhere in her chest and manifesting in a blush across her cheeks.

Chloe is here now. And Chloe is evading her question with a question of her own, which makes all kinds of turmoil swirl through Beca’s stomach.

“I didn’t,” Beca manages to mumble, feeling the oddest sensation of guilt as well. She hadn’t been saving herself for Chloe or anything, which is what she tells herself as she tries to talk herself down. It’s harder to remind herself that Chloe hadn’t necessarily saved herself for her either. “Just...mostly a label thing. I’m here for, um, work.”

It’s all really just too fucking fresh and too fucking devastating, knowing that ‘work’ had been what drove them apart in the first place because they had both naively thought that things wouldn’t have to change between them—that high school would follow them both with ease and transition without any real effort.

Chloe’s tongue comes out to swipe at her lower lip. “I didn’t...either. Not really. But they’re…” Chloe casts a glance over her shoulder. She looks back at Beca, bashful. “It seemed like a good way to kick off the new year, you know?”

“How’s school?” Beca asks. “I know you were…” she swallows thinking of how absent she had been when Chloe had been working on her transfer application. “You were really excited.” It comes out softer than intended and Beca feels the sudden urge to reach out to hold Chloe’s hand.

Chloe smiles at her words. “I love it,” she replies, sounding as passionate as Beca remembers her.

I love you, Beca thinks. "That's good to hear," she says aloud.

  * * * * *

 The end up talking for at least an hour. Socially, it’s probably not either of their best attempts at working the room, but they both appear to revel in the ease with which they are able to sink back into their usual conversational habits.

But, more poignantly, their usual chemistry. It ebbs and flows in waves around them, like a heady song reminiscent of all the memories that Beca had attempted (with no real effort in all honesty) to suppress.

Beca is so painfully reminded of how long it’s been since she last had sex (with Chloe).

“Do you have plans after this?” Beca asks during a lull in their conversation. She warms at the way Chloe’s eyes flash towards her.

“No,” Chloe admits. “But my friends were thinking of dipping anyway.”

“Oh,” Beca mumbles. “Okay.” She tries not to fixate on the fact that Chloe doesn’t seem to plan on leaving with them. Her eyes track across Chloe’s shoulders and collarbone again.

Beca’s obvious ogling doesn’t go unnoticed. Chloe doesn’t look upset by the attention. Instead, she looks pleased.

Maybe too pleased.

It makes Beca want to kiss the smirk right off her lips.

She struggles to think of something to say—anything but the thoughts racing through her mind. She blames the adrenaline from the high of the live performance and the reception to her music. She blames the energy of the crowd around them. She blames Chloe’s proximity to her. She blames the fact that she can see the light sheen of sweat on Chloe’s bared skin.

But Chloe’s smug expression fades eventually and she shrugs. “Do you want to...talk more?” Chloe asks sincerely. “Or are you busy?”

Beca glances around, taking stock of the people in closest proximity to them. She casts a glance around, keeping an eye out for a handler or her manager, but upon seeing that the coast is fairly clear, she nods and grabs Chloe’s wrist. “Come with me. We can go someplace quieter.”

  * * * * *

 It feels like a new verse—or maybe an entirely new song. Not quite deja vu, but Beca isn’t sure what she would prefer.

  * * * * *

 The ride back to Beca’s hotel is the quite possibly the tensest car ride Beca has ever been on. She glances at Chloe non-stop, trying to remember the last time they sat side by side in a car. It had been when Chloe had picked her up at the airport that...that last time.

Beca clenches her hands in her lap.

The hurt still flares up from time to time, but over the past few weeks, it had lessened to nothing but a dull throbbing ache. Nothing to write home about. Nothing to fret over. She had simply been too busy with working on her EP, releasing her single, and then doing promotional work to even think about Chloe for more than a few minutes a day. It was only within those few minutes that she found herself lost in the sad memory of her ex-girlfriend.

But now—now, Chloe is next to her and they finally have a chance to talk. Beca wrings her hands nervously as they round the last street corner before her hotel.

Talking is fine. Beca can talk. Chloe was��is—her best friend. She has nothing to be afraid of. She knows this.

“This is me,” Beca announces unnecessarily as the driver pulls to a stop. “A hotel.”

Chloe giggles at Beca’s unnecessary but familiar awkwardness. “I figured.”

Beca’s throat goes dry. “Well, I mean. Just in case...you didn’t know.” She feels nervous, like she’s about to enter her first day of high school again.

Chloe’s gaze locks onto hers and Beca forgets whatever inane thing she was about to say.

So, talking is a little hard now.

Sue her.

Sue them both.

  * * * * *

 But some things are easy enough to fall back into. Too easy.

Like the way Chloe’s hand reaches for hers in the elevator. How gently and intimately their fingers tangle together.

Like the way Beca’s entire body heats up when she sees exactly how Chloe is looking at her.

Like the way Beca knew exactly what she wanted to happen when she suggested they go someplace quieter to talk.

  * * * * *

 “Nice room,” Chloe comments, trailing a finger along the edge of an ornate dresser by the bed. “They didn’t have any suites available?”

The teasing lilt to Chloe’s voice seems amplified—something dark and hungry in Chloe’s tone—but Beca only notices because every last sensory nerve is alert; every sound reverberates through her with the force of a thousand speakers.

She swallows, taking a step towards Chloe before hesitating when Chloe’s eyes cut up to her own.

The thing that comforts Beca most is the stark vulnerability she sees in Chloe’s eyes—the same that she’s sure must be reflected in her own eyes. She wants to say a million things—wants to ask a hundred jealous questions and more. Between leaving high school and now, a mere year and a bit, she feels like they have aged an entire lifetime. The chasm between them is so palpable, rife with tension and hurt mixed in confusingly with the same chemistry they always enjoyed.

“I don’t need a suite,” Beca finally responds. Though her words are bland, she can’t help the way her voice rasps out due to the tightness in her throat and in her chest. Not for this, she wants to say. I need you.

“Guess not,” Chloe murmurs before she closes the distance between them, pulling Beca in for a searing kiss. It is not quite the kiss that Beca envisioned they’d share upon meeting up again, but she curls her fingers tightly into the front of Chloe’s shirt and holds on tight, unwilling to let go, even for what she’s sure is just a night of nothing but uninhibited passion.

  * * * * *

 “Fuck, Beca,” Chloe moans, tangling her fingers in Beca’s hair to the point of pain. “Right there, yeah, fuck, right there—”

Beca continues to eagerly lick and suck at Chloe’s wet folds, wanting nothing more to bring Chloe to the brink again and again until neither of them can move anymore. She grips Chloe’s thighs, forcing her legs apart further, and continues, uncaring as Chloe’s moans and cries only increase in volume. She doesn’t care if she gets a noise complaint. She’d go as far as to say that a noise complaint is the goal at the moment. She wants to get as many noise complaints as she can. It doesn’t matter as long as she makes Chloe fucking come.

She pushes her tongue past Chloe’s folds, as deep as it can possibly go. Her jaw aches badly but still, she pushes forward. She resists the urge to stop because stopping would mean she would no longer hear the wonderful sounds Chloe makes with each pass of her tongue; with each clumsy stroke of her fingers just where she knows Chloe needs her most. Beca groans at the taste of Chloe all over her mouth and the sounds of Chloe coming apart echoing all over the room.

“I’m going to come,” Chloe moans out. “I’m going to come, fuck—” she comes with a sharp cry, Beca’s name on her lips. Her hips rock up and down as if attempting to dislodge Beca from her, but her hand clamps down hard against the back of Beca’s head to keep her in place. It is an almost unfamiliar, possessive grip. Beca barely remembers when they had been so consumed by passion and lust that emotions barely had the chance to make themselves known. Still, the gesture makes Beca grind down against the bed in reaction, clenching her fingertips against Chloe’s sweat-slicked skin. She steadies herself by grabbing Chloe’s hips in a vice grip, moaning as the taste of Chloe further floods her mouth, wetting her chin slightly. Her own cunt clenches around nothing as she pants, muffling her own cry against Chloe’s thigh, finally receiving the sweetest, but smallest of releases. She kisses Chloe’s damp skin, using her teeth to bluntly nip along the soft warmth of Chloe’s inner thigh in an attempt to calm herself down.

Without waiting for Chloe to say anything else, Beca crawls up her body, using her fingers to stimulate her own clit as she goes. She groans, eyes nearly crossing at the sensation. She’s too sensitive, too far gone, so she rocks her hips greedily down against Chloe’s thigh before letting her fingers slip inside herself. Months since she has felt another person’s touch against her—months since Chloe. Even touching herself didn’t quite feel the same without the knowledge that she had Chloe. “I’m so close,” she pants out. “Please, I want to—”

Chloe nods, still slightly dazed from her orgasm, but she pulls Beca in for a searing kiss, tasting just the faintest remnants of herself along the inside of Beca’s mouth. She moans, arching upwards and spreading her legs to accommodate Beca between them. Her hands move to grab at Beca’s ass, helping her rock slowly against the steady, firm thigh Chloe has between her legs, but it’s not what Beca wants most. Her rocking is hindered by her own hand between her legs, her fingers not quite doing what she wants most. She licks her lips, whimpering at the taste of Chloe still lingering just slightly on her lower lip.

“Let me,” Chloe rasps. She wraps a hand around Beca’s wrist. “Come on,” she urges.

Beca bites her lower lip as she removes her fingers, moaning at the loss. She clumsily tries to slot herself between Chloe’s legs, thrusting her hips down as best as she can.

Chloe’s hands drift to her hips in order to better steady her. “Beca, I can—”

“No. Please,” Beca grits out, cutting Chloe off unexpectedly. “I want to feel you like this.” Her hips stutter in their rhythm, but she quickly grabs one of Chloe’s legs and lifts slightly, shifting her hips in just the right way so that she can feel Chloe’s wet folds and her stiff clit brush against her own nether regions. The sensation, even though it is slight with their haphazard positioning, makes her eyes cross and her stomach coil in pleasure knowing that she gets to experience this with Chloe once more. She gasps out, unable to stop the brief, high-pitched sounds from escaping her. She feels so close to Chloe—so connected to her once more. “Please,” she begs. “Let me, God—” she cries out, connecting fully with Chloe’s center.

She aches, badly. Partly from the discomfort of their positions, but also with how much she wants Chloe like this. Like the past few months—hell, the past year—of emotions have come rushing out to spar for dominance in the tangle of Beca’s bedsheets, no longer as crisp and clean as they had been just that morning.

It is as if Chloe feels that surge of emotion from Beca, like she always had before. Chloe’s hands tighten on her hips as her breathing grows erratic once more. She slowly guides Beca’s movements, keeping a steady, gentle rocking motion until she evidently grows impatient and reaches down to swipe her thumb against Beca’s clit. Beca gasps, hips jolting out of place, which is enough for Chloe to roll them over so she can pin Beca beneath her body and slowly press two fingers inside her. “This is so much better,” Chloe purrs, energy renewed.

Beca could disagree on some levels but she can’t exactly disagree fully, not when Chloe’s fingers feel so fucking good inside her, finally.

Months of not having that sensation of fullness, not just physically despite how fucking good it feels, but also that sensation of emotional connection she had been missing so much.

Months of feeling like she couldn’t breathe, knowing that her jealousy had been welling up inside her, threatening to spill over at any second.

Months of not having Chloe, who always knew exactly how to make her feel amazing.

“I wanted to come on you,” Beca pants out, uncaring that her brain is no longer connected to her mouth. “God, fuck, I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

Chloe groans. “Later,” she mumbles, leaning down to suck harshly at Beca’s nipple. “I want you like this,” she declares, letting Beca know that the time for negotiation and demands is over. As Chloe’s free hand comes up to cup her breast possessively, Beca briefly wonders how she could possibly want anybody else; she wonders whether Chloe still wants her as much as she still wants Chloe; she wonders if Chloe thinks of her the same way Beca thinks of Chloe, alone in her bed.

Nothing, however, compares to this—the thick, hot air around them, sheets rumpled all around them like a nest for them to lie in until the morning comes. Beca curls her fingers into Chloe’s hair, arching her back with a weak whimper as Chloe’s fingers flex and push inside her with consistency and force.

The sharp sting of Chloe’s teeth against her sensitive skin makes Beca coil and tense once more, this time more distinct than before. She barely recognizes her own voice when she groans, deep and low, as she clenches tight around Chloe’s fingers. “Make me come, please”

“I will,” Chloe promises, increasing the intensity of her thrusts. The bed creaks.

Like a refrain that Beca has longed to hear over and over, she loses herself in the chorus of her own staccato whimpers and grunts, offset only by the echo of Chloe’s breathless sounds. She lets the sensation of being completely possessed by Chloe wrap her up in the pseudo-warmth of being loved once more—the thin blanket of passion and lust that covers them both. She clutches at it—a tightening of her fingers in Chloe’s hair once more and a sharp scratch up Chloe’s back—with some desperation, wanting to both lose herself completely and yet, stay coherent so she can recall every last moment.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” Beca pants out, losing track of the rhythm for the briefest of moments as she scrabbles to hold on to whatever part of Chloe she can reach. Chloe clutches her back in return, pressing closer to her, nearly trapping her arm and hand between their bodies entirely.

“I won’t,” Chloe promises again in a tone that sends a fresh wave of arousal through Beca.

Beca allows herself to shut her eyes.

  * * * * *

 Beca refuses to let up and to her delight, Chloe refuses to as well. She matches Beca one-for-one for everything and before either of them realizes, it is verging close to the early morning.

Sweaty and sticky, Beca moves to grab water from the hotel room’s mini-fridge and tosses a second bottle to Chloe. Chloe takes a long drink before clumsily placing the bottle on the dresser and twisting to face Beca. Chloe’s eyes are dark and wanting, with the mildest hint of exhaustion. Beca’s sure she looks the same—two of them, complete messes. But this is their own little world. At least for the next little while that Beca has Chloe here with her.

Chloe is endlessly patient. She waits while Beca drinks her water. Beca watches her, eyes tracing over the endless, unmarked skin save for a few red scratch marks and blooming hickeys in hidden spots. She wants to do more. She’s not sure where the obsession comes from, but it springs from deep within her chest, like a well that refuses to empty no matter how much Beca draws from it.

A well full of every last repressed thought about Chloe, about their relationship, and about their lives together. Beca knows that this is so unhealthy—that they should talk. But the sex makes everything feel that much more bearable. She can do this with Chloe. They’re both consenting adults. They both have the freedom to decide what they want. Chloe wants this too.

As long as Chloe wants this, she wants Beca. She wants Beca, without a doubt. It clears the insecurities momentarily.

And that’s good enough for Beca.

Beca slowly puts the mostly empty water bottle down on the closest surface. She wants desperately to shower, but she cannot resist crawling back into bed and climbing back on top of Chloe eagerly. No words are needed as their limbs intertwine and their bodies slot together naturally, like they’ve done this a thousand times. Maybe they have, Beca can’t recall. Not when Chloe pulls her in for a messy, passionate kiss, again lacking much of the care and affection their previous kisses used to have.

Beca doesn’t care. Not now, not ever, she thinks. She can do this. All she knows is that her body is somewhat satisfied, but not fully.

She needs to know that Chloe still wants her—that Chloe still desires her in the way that she always did. She is not disappointed when Chloe’s hands immediately fly to her ass, groping at the flesh she finds before slipping to her still-wet pussy. Beca knows how incredibly sore she is going to be in a few hours—perhaps she feels a hint of it already—but she cannot help but rock back onto Chloe’s fingers as she begins to fuck her again.

“Yes,” Chloe whispers. “Fuck yourself, Bec.”

Beca obeys, nodding frantically as she begins a punishing pace. She can only lift her hips so high as to keep Chloe’s fingers steady inside her, but it is Chloe who picks up the pace, who uses her strength to flip them over so she can use her hips as more leverage to drive her fingers deeper and faster.

Chloe was always better at fucking her anyway.

Again, again, Beca’s body cries out.

Her mind and heart remain shockingly quiet on the subject, but Beca wonders how anybody or anything could be displeased by this result. She comes incredibly quick, clenching tight around Chloe’s fingers. For a long moment, Chloe keeps her fingers still, both of them still breathing hard. Beca almost clamps her legs shut around Chloe’s hands, just to keep her there.

Don’t go, she almost says aloud when Chloe finally moves her hand away.

She doesn’t want it to end.

  * * * * *

 When Beca wakes up in the morning (read: only a few short hours later), her duvet is still warm and Chloe’s pillow is still slightly rumpled. The air smells of Chloe and sex. The bed is half empty, save for a small folded note just above where Chloe’s body had been laying mere hours, minutes, seconds before.

Beca does not have to look elsewhere to see that all of Chloe’s things are probably gone. She reaches for the note even though she knows that the foreboding in her heart is her body telling her that she shouldn’t.

thanks for making the start of this year amazing it was wonderful seeing you xx chloe

She hates how much it feels like another ending.

* * * * *

fin.

[symptoms-syndrome]

hey, do you know of any book, place or anything that could help me understand how gender and dissociation can interact, especially wrt dissociated parts of self? or can you share what your experience with this has been if you've had any (if you're comfortable)? i'm really struggling to understand myself and my experiences and my gender identity and sexual orientation. i've already asked my t and she'll look into it but couldn't think of anything off the top of her head. hope this is ok to ask.

I’m putting this under a read more because it may get sort of long.

Hello!

I don’t know of any books or resources, but maybe some of my followers do.

However, as someone who is trans and dissociative, I can absolutely share my personal experience. I am very fortunate in that both the therapist that diagnosed me and my current therapist are trans. I highly recommend looking to see if there are any LGBTQ specific resources for therapy in your area, if that’s a part of your identity you consider important to you and your mental wellbeing.

I am a bisexual trans person with moderate levels of dysphoria, who identifies as nonbinary/transmasculine, and has been on HRT for about two years and is in the beginning stages of planning bottom surgery/GCS. For both HRT and GCS, I believe DID is one of the specific things they mention as being “controlled“ before starting medical transition. For better or for worse, I got my diagnosis after about a year of HRT. I am choosing to proceed with GCS/HRT despite my diagnosis, but that’s a very personal decision that I’ve given a lot of thought and I don’t necessarily condone that universally.

I do remember when I was doing the initial dissociative test, there were a few parts of it my therapist mentioned could be due to dissociation OR dysphoria, such as phrases like “when I look in the mirror, I don’t recognize my reflection,” or something of the sort. That is something your therapist should take into account, and you could communicate with them about why you might feel that way, be it due to dissociation, dysphoria, or both. However, on those sorts of tests there is a “baseline,“ so being wishy-washy on the specifics of one or two questions won’t drastically change your score one way or the other.

Using this example, there are times I look in the mirror and I don’t like what I see, or it isn’t what I’m expecting. When this is leaning more towards dysphoria, it’s mostly gendered things that I notice feel “off,“ such as my hips, my shoulders, etc. When this is leaning more towards dissociation, it’s more “general.” Something is off, and I can’t tell what, or it feels like everything is off. (Additionally, dysphoria generally carries more upsetting/negative thoughts, while dissociation is more neutral “oh, that’s not right.” However, everyone experiences dysphoria differently, so that may not be case for you.) Sometimes, though, I can’t really tell if it’s dysphoria or dissociation. It’s a murky middle ground.

WRT to sexual orientation, it’s important to remember that like. You don’t really need to have a set one, and you don’t need to tell anyone else if you don’t want to. I identify as bisexual, and sometimes I lean more towards this gender or that one, sometimes there’s no preference at all, sometimes I can’t imagine being with one gender and can only imagine myself with another, it’s all very fluid and personally I think that’s an experience a lot of people have outside of dissociation. You don’t need to file any paperwork or have an “official“ sexual orientation you have to stick with. A lot of folks simply identify as “queer“ for that reason. You don’t owe anyone an explanation of your sexual orientation, and it’s okay to not know, and just focus on the people you like, rather than broader categories like gender.

WRT your own gender identity, a lot of the above still applies. You don’t need a name for your gender if you don’t want one. All other people really have to know are the pronouns you prefer, which you can change whenever. I have some parts that are women, though most of them don’t fully front very often, and when they do they don’t really mind the body they’re in, or the pronouns folks use for them. I on a whole identify as nonbinary/transmasc solely because most of the parts that do front either identify that way, or don’t mind identifying that way. I, as a part, personally don’t remember coming out, or identifying any differently. I know I’ve been out since around 7th grade even though I don’t remember it, and most parts that are most present don’t remember high school or anything before it. For me, I’m mostly taking an “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it“ approach. I came into consciousness identifying as transmasculine, and I don’t have strong feelings about NOT being transmasculine, neither do any of the parts I’m aware of. Overall, 99% of the time, parts present either identify as nonbinary/transmasc, or don’t take issue with being perceived that way.

I think it’s also important to remember that with social transition, you’re allowed to basically do whatever you want. You can cut your hair and it’ll grow back. You can buy new clothes and return them. You can wear makeup or not wear makeup, bind or not bind, tuck or not tuck, and pretty much everything is reversible. As long as you are being safe, you can try out as many gender presentations as you like.

With HRT and surgeries, this is not the case. While stopping HRT can reverse SOME of the effects, there are some things that will not go back to the way they were. It’s important to remember your whole self and consider all aspects, as folks with dissociative parts may have more complicated relationships with their gender and their body. It’s also important to remember HRT will change aspects of your body, but won’t change you. Medical transition is a huge decision, and one that can very positively change your life, but also has the potential to negatively impact you, too. You also do NOT have to medically transition to be valid in your gender identity, nor do you owe anyone an explanation as to why you choose or choose not to medically transition. If you take a while to decide, the choice to start will always be there. You can always decide that you want to start medical transition later.

Depending on where you are and where you go to medically transition though, they may already have these safeguards in place to make sure you don’t do something you regret later. It’s important even for non-dissociative folks to carefully consider the choice to medically transition.

This has all been very rambly, and I’m sorry. I just wanted to get an answer out because this ask has been sitting in my inbox for a while.

[bookworlders]

the wedding date - ch. 9

percabeth fake dating!au based on The Wedding Date movie

part 1 | FFnet | ao3

masterpost

The wine was flowing.

If the rehearsal dinner gave any indication of what the ceremony was going to be like the next day, it was sure to be lavish. Piper’s mother and father, supermodel Aphrodite Love and actor Tristan McLean, were paying for the ceremony. Zeus Grace, Jason’s father and host of the rehearsal dinner, had obviously not wished to be upstaged. Zeus had hired an upscale party company to completely transform the front lawn of the Big House into some kind of fairytale winery, much to Chiron’s protest.

Every post on the wrap-around porch was wrapped in twinkling lights. The porch itself had been transformed into an altar for the rehearsal ceremony. Picnic tables laden with white table clothes, succulents, and lanterns littered the front lawn for the dinner. The parents of the bride and groom greeted the wedding party as they arrived: Tristan and Zeus shaking everyone's hands and Beryl Grace and Aphrodite shooting each other reproachful scowls — they had worn the same dress.

Percy sat with Will and Calypso as their dates rehearsed walking down the aisle. Jason’s annoying cousin, Octavian, was officiating. Percy caught Annabeth’s eye from where she stood at Piper’s side on the porch. He made faces at her until he saw her smile crack. He grinned at how cute she looked, trying to stifle her laughter. Reyna, standing directly behind Jason, noticed and followed Annabeth’s line of sight, she shot daggers at him.

When he was sure Reyna wasn’t looking anymore, Percy winked at Annabeth and motioned to her neck. She blushed.

After dance lessons, Percy and Annabeth had fooled around in their cabin before getting ready for the rehearsal dinner. Annabeth had even more hickeys on her neck to conceal after that afternoon, especially with the low-cut neckline of her lavender rehearsal dinner dress. Percy didn’t exactly know where they stood with their agreement, but he knew he was having fun with Annabeth regardless of all the lines and boundaries they had crossed by being intimate..

“You are not allowed to look at me tomorrow!” Annabeth said, punching him in the shoulder after they finished rehearsing the ceremony. Percy pulled back her chair for her as they sat down at the head table with the wedding party.

“I agree,” Reyna replied, but Percy had a feeling she was not joking at all.

The food was amazing, but the wine was better. Percy was in bliss, chowing down and refilling Annabeth’s wine glass as the parents all made their rounds of speeches. Dessert was served just as Tristan McLean concluded a monologue from one of his 90s chick flick movies that he was dedicating to Piper. The dessert was vanilla cake with blueberries.

Percy’s eyes lit up and he attacked the cake with his fork, “Heck yes!”

Annabeth grinned at his enthusiasm as she adjusted the napkin on her lap, “What is it with you and blue food?” She ate a piece, it was really delicious.

“It’s a thing between me and my mom,” Percy spoke through mouthfuls. “I asked for a blue birthday cake when I was little, and my old stepdad was being an ass, ‘Blue food doesn’t exist!’” Percy stabbed a blueberry on his fork, dark juice staining the white china. “After that, my mom made an extra effort to make me blue food like pancakes or bringing home all the blue candy from when she worked at a sweet shop.”

Annabeth reached out and brushed icing away from the corner of his mouth, “Your mom sounds great.”

Percy looked at her, smiling, “She is.”

Annabeth broke away from Percy’s gaze. Her face started to feel hot. She stood, “I’m gonna go grab some water, do you want some?” Her feet were taking her to the beverage table before Percy could respond.

Annabeth filled a glass with ice and water and downed it. She refilled it once more, gulping it down. She had felt the words I’d like to meet her about to escape her lips right then. She had to be more careful or she was going to fall into this façade. This arrangement was just for this one weekend. She was never going to meet Sally Jackson.

“Annabeth! Hello, dear.”

She turned, “Aphrodite, hello.” Piper’s mom reached by her to fill her glass with ice. She managed to make the casual, rustic dinner outside of the Big House look like the backdrop of a photoshoot. Annabeth thought, she was too beautiful, too perfect.

“How was the food?” Aphrodite asked, gazing at her as she sipped her water. She had the same kaleidoscope eyes Piper had, but whereas Piper’s gaze was warm and comforting, Annabeth could barely look her mother in the eye.

“It was great. Nice speeches too.”

Aphrodite smiled, her lipstick unsmudged by her glass, “It’s nice to see you sitting over there with your date.”

Annabeth’s stomach dropped, she already hated where this conversation was going yet she just nodded and smiled.

“You’re such a pretty girl,” Aphrodite continued, “You’d never have thought with a face like that that you’d have such trouble in the love department. Well, then I saw how you are about work and your little job. I’m so happy that you finally found love! It feels so much better than drawing some buildings, doesn’t it?”

Annabeth’s jaw tensed, “Yes.” After years of friendship with Piper, she learned it was best not to argue with her mother.

“Your career may be what makes you happy, but love is what you needed.”

“Right, Aphrodite,” Annabeth muttered through gritted teeth, she gripped her glass and walked back over to the table.

She was fuming when she sat down.

“Whoa, whoa,” Percy asked, cautiously, seeing her tensed shoulders, “What did I do now?”

Annabeth crossed her arms. “Not you,” she spat, “Piper’s mother ugh. She had some commentary about my personal life again.” Annabeth hated, hated, hated conversations with Piper’s mother because they always ended like that. A successful career and love are not mutually exclusive.

However, in Annabeth’s case, it had been. Luke had left her because she chose her job.

Percy took her hand, “Hey, come on, forget her, let’s dance.”

The wine had loosened Annabeth enough to actually join Percy on the makeshift dance floor, and the mandatory shots for the bridal party got her to let Percy twirl her into the middle of the dance circle.

Michael Bublé’s “Sway” came on next, and Percy and Annabeth made for Will and Nico as they salsa-ed into the middle.

Annabeth’s left hand rested lightly on Percy's shoulder as they swayed on the outskirts of the dance floor. As the sun went down, fireflies began to twinkle on the lawn.

“Is this even real?” Annabeth muttered, her gaze following a lightning bug, “How did we get here?”

Percy chuckled, twirling her, “Not sure.”

“For real, how did you become an actor, Percy?”

Percy shrugged as Bublé transitioned to Sinantra, “I never wanted to be an actor when I was younger, I just wanted to swim. Competitive swimming led to scholarships. I was undeclared and Grover was my freshman roommate and he did tech for the theater department. I hung around him and other theater majors who ended up casting me in their studio shows for fun. When I needed to declare a major, the only thing I had enough credits in was theater.”

“I’ve never met anyone who was an actor who didn’t want to be.”

“I like it, I really do. I don’t want to be famous or anything, though. There are enough acting gigs in New York and connections from college to keep me busy and employed until the next thing.”

“What’s the next thing?”

“I like acting, but not forever. I might go back to school, maybe a masters? I have a little sister, Estelle, so I want to stay New York.”

“How old is she?”

“She’s only nine, she’s my half-sister from stepdad, Paul. I want to be there as she grows up so I would never leave New York.”

“That’s what we all said.”

“Hm?”

Annabeth’s expression fell, “We all said we’d never leave New York. I’m the only one left. We all went to camp up here, and I remember we all talked about how we’d move to the city together. We all did at first, but eventually everyone moved to New Rome out in California.”

“Yuck,” Percy joked, “Imagine leaving the greatest city in the world for California.”

“I don’t know, what’s New York given me? Rent I can barely keep up with and my only friends now are my roommate’s.”

“Not true. Look at you, only 25-years-old and the most successful architect I’ve ever met.”

“You meet a lot of architects?” Annabeth grinned.

“No, but I know you designed that new building on Lexington Avenue.”

Annabeth’s heart warmed at the fact that he remembered the building she was proudest of designing.

“Why did you want to be an architect?”

Annabeth paused, they weren’t dancing as much as just swaying in place with the music now. She thought about it, “I wanted to build something permanent. Everyone in my life is always leaving and moving, but buildings will be there pretty much forever. Camp is the only home I’ve ever known.

“I moved around a lot with my mom and my dad and step family and my cousins in Boston. I finally asked my dad to send me to boarding school just so I at least knew where I would be for the next four years no matter where he moved. Boarding school and camp. Even my friends, Piper and all of them moved back to New Rome. I’m just tired of people leaving.”

Annabeth’s last thought hung in the air between them. Percy brushed a strand of hair out of her face. The song changed into an upbeat pop track.

“Oh gods, here she comes,” Annabeth muttered.

“Who?”

“Annabeth! Well, this must be the first time you’ve ever gotten on the dance floor, isn’t it?” Aphrodite said, walking over to the couple. She eyed Percy and grinned, her perfectly white teeth glinting, “And I finally get to meet your date.”

“Er, Percy, this is Piper’s mom, Aphrodite. Aphrodite, this is my, uh, boyfriend, Percy Jackson.”

Percy held out his hand, “Nice to meet you, Mrs. McLean.” Aphrodite held her out like she expected Percy to kiss it. He awkwardly shook it.

“Oh, please, call me Aphrodite. Piper’s father and I are not married.”

“Oh sorry-”

“You know, I’ve always had a knack for couples, and you two simply look perfect together. Seeing you in this particular setting. Annabeth, I’m sure you’re just itching to walk down the aisle after last year-”

“Mom! There you are,” Piper called, walking over to them with Jason in tow, “Um, Dad is telling Jason’s parents how you guys met, you better get over there-”

“Tristan knows I hate the way he tells that story, he tripped me on the red carpet…” Aphrodite muttered, stalking over to the parents’ table.

“Sorry about my mother, Percy,” Piper nudged his arm, “But, hey! You survived a conversation with her at a wedding so you’ll survive any holiday with us now.”

Percy shrugged, “I’ve dealt with worse.”

“Speaking of which,” Jason said, “You really got along well with all of us this weekend, it’s like you’ve been part of our little family this whole time.”

“Wow, thanks, man. That means a lot.” Annabeth gripped Percy’s arm tighter.

“Good, because we need a favor. Dakota’s flight is delayed in Ohio, he’s going to try to drive up tonight to make it in time for the reception tomorrow, but would you fill in tomorrow during the ceremony for him? You can walk Annabeth down the aisle and Nico can walk with Drew.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. I’d be honored,” Percy said, somewhat surprised.

“Oh, gods,” Piper said, glancing over to their parents along with other partygoers since the volume of their conversation was escalating, “We better go deal with that.”

“Hey,” Percy, nudging Annabeth who had been strangely silent during the conversation, “You okay?”

“I just need another drink. Make that two. But hey, I guess you’re entitled to the free bar now that you’re part of the wedding party.”

Percy threw his arm around her shoulders, “Coming right up, milady.” He steered her to the bar.

Annabeth was drunk. So drunk that if Percy let go of her waist, she’d probably fall right over. Good thing Annabeth had no intention of letting go of Percy any time soon.

She was all over him, and she wasn’t the only one to notice. The bridesmaids and groomsmen were crowded around the beverage table as Leo called for another round of wedding party shots. Annabeth threw her glass back confidently, aware of Luke watching her. He’d been staring at her all night. Of course, Annabeth stared right back at Luke as she looped her arms around Percy’s neck. Luke grimaced and stalked away.

A song Leo had requested came on and they all dispersed back to the dancefloor. Annabeth, in no shape to dance, dragged Percy back to their table.

“You are doing fantastic!” Annabeth said, grinning, her nose inches away from Percy’s face.

“Thanks?”

“Did you see Luke’s face? He looks like he wants to just about die. You must really look into me. Oh, gods, they all love you, especially Piper. When I tell them, it’ll break their hearts.”

“Tell them what?”

“That we broke up.”

“What?”

“Yeah, we’ll eventually have to fake break up, but we shouldn’t drag this on any longer than we have to. We can’t fake date forever or we’ll have to fake engaged, then get fake married and have a fake wedding. I’ll probably wait until they’re back from their honeymoon to tell them we broke up. I don’t know, I’ll say I got too busy at work.” Annabeth mulled over, her eyes getting glassy.

“Uh, yeah. Right...that would be believable. You choosing work over me.”

Was that a dig at her? Annabeth’s brain was too foggy for her to comprehend. She reached for her glass of wine. However, her depth perception was quite off and she knocked the glass directly into Percy’s lap. He yelped as the red liquid seeped into his slacks.

“Oh, Percy! I’m so sorry!” Annabeth jumped up and grabbed a napkin off the table and began furiously rubbing Percy’s crotch.

“I got it, I got it!” Percy protested, trying to stop her assault on his pants.

“Let me help you-”

“Annabeth, stop,” People took her wrists, struggling to pry her hands off of him and bumping into his drink spilled on Annabeth’s shoes.

“Look what you did, you’re such a Seaweed Brain! Just let me help you!”

“Look at what I did, look what you did, Wise Girl!”

Annabeth dropped the napkins, crossing her arms. Percy sighed, looking down at his now ruby stained trousers.

“What the hell is going on over here? Lover’s tiff already?” Thalia asked, sauntering over to the couple.

Percy panicked, his arm immediately went around her waist to pull Annabeth into his lap to hide the stain, “Of course not, just, uh, talking you know.”

Thalia laughed, “Relax, Percy, accidents happen. Annabeth gets clumsy when she’s drunk.”

“Hey!”

Annabeth moved back to her own seat, “I do not.”

Percy rose, grabbing a napkin to hide the stain, I’m just going to run back to the cabin and change. I’ll be right back, okay?” Percy kissed her on the forehead before walking away, whether for show in front of Thalia or habit, Annabeth had no idea.

“You guys are too cute,” Thalia said.

Annabeth smiled tightly, if anyone was going to see through this ruse, it was going to be Thalia.

“Come get another drink with me, Annie.”

At the beverage table, Thalia got a glass of wine, but Annabeth opted for water.

“Annabeth, I need to tell you something.”

Percy made sure not to lose his balance on the steep path back to the Big House from the cabins. He had a fresh pair of pants on, and was eager to get back to the party.

“Hey!”

Percy turned to see Luke Castellan trekking up the hill to meet him, “Oh, you.”

Luke stalked right up to him, “Listen, dude. I don’t know who the fuck you are-”

“Whoa, Luke, chill out,” Percy could smell the alcohol radiating off of him, giving him flashbacks to his childhood apartment locked up with his terrible first stepdad, Gabe, “You’re drunk.”

“Don’t tell me what the fuck I am. I don’t know who you are-”

“I’m Annabeth’s boyfriend-”

“Clearly, she just brought you here to make me jealous. Are you from work? You’re just some bitch architect at her firm, aren’t you?”

“Listen, Luke. I’m not doing this-”

“I’m sure she seems like she’s super into you, but she’s not over me yet.”

Percy glowered, “Fuck off, Luke. Get out of here. Sleep this off.”

Luke glared, downing the rest of his drink and stalking away.

“What is it, Thals? Is something wrong?” The two had walked over to a grove of tears to talk, further away from the rehearsal dinner.

Thalia looked like she was about to cry. Annabeth had never seen her cry.

“I’m in love with Luke.”

Annabeth blinked, she definitely just had a stroke. From the heat or from the alcohol, but, “What?”

“Annabeth, I’m in love with Luke. I’ve been in love with Luke. Since we were all younger. The whole time you guys were dating, it broke my heart every fucking day.”

“Thalia, I...I don’t know what to say.”

“I know it’s awful because we’re best friends. The three of us were best friends. It didn’t even make me happy when you guys broke up last year because I knew you were still so in love with him. Every time we talked on the phone when I moved to New Rome, I knew you weren’t over the engagement yet.”

“I-”

“But now, I see you with Percy and you’re so happy and we love Percy. Luke and I are so much closer now in New Rome, and I like him. Maybe you can finally get over Luke and-”

“I’m paying him.”

“What?”

“I’m paying him. Percy. I paid him to come here to make Luke jealous. He’s not my boyfriend.”

[comeondowntosouthparkrpg-blog]

Allison Mertz

Is she still wearing glitter all over her face?

Allison has been accepted! Send in your blog ASAP.

out of character info

Name/Alias: sam(ael) Pronouns: she/ he / they / them Age: 20 Join Our Discord: hella ( exhausted n queer#8766 ) Timezone: est Activity: 5 bc work n stuff Triggers: n / a Password: jimmy can fast pass my ass Character that you’re applying for: “Kinder Vamp” Allison Mertz Favourite ships for your character: Allison / chemistry

in character info

Full name: Allison Verona Mertz Birthday: December 19th Sexuality, gender, pronouns: Heterosexual – questioning, cis female, she / her Age and grade: 15, freshman Faceclaim: Meghann Preddy / @sugoimeg on instagram

Appearance:

Head / face: Allison’s face just exudes innocence. She has big, honey colored – often concealed by colored contacts – doe eyes framed with thick black lashes and sharp eyebrows above. Her features are delicate and feminine – she has a button nose, full lips, rosy cheeks, and a heart shaped face. Her pale skin has few imperfections, she doesn’t have much acne, but she does have moles and freckles scattered about – however, they’re pretty light, making them barely noticeable if you’re not standing close to her. When she smiles, she has soft dimples and pearly teeth with caps over her canines to make them look like they’re longer and sharper. Her hair is naturally black – however, over the years, her purple highlights have started to cover more of her thick locks. The purple fades often – sometimes looking pink-ish, but she tries her best to keep up on dying her hair. She has a deviated septum – this makes it so she can hardly ever smell and breathing through her nose is a struggle.

Body: Allison didn’t grow much since her younger years, topping off at only five feet tall. She’s stayed relatively thin over the years, and if you look at her torso, you can faintly see her bones.   She is actually very anemic – she gets dizzy a lot ( sometimes she even faints ) and craves medium rare steak. Her porcelain skin gets cuts and bruises quite easily, so it’s not unusual for you to see a few cuts or bruises on her at any given time. She has a pear-shaped figure, meaning that her hips are wider than her waist and shoulders.She has a lot of moles and freckles on her body, most of them are pretty light, but there are still a few dark ones. On her ankle, she has a dark birthmark that looks like a big bite mark.

Style: Allison is very into dark and muted colors, so it’s safe to say that her wardrobe isn’t that bright or colorful. On a normal day, you can see her in a pair of dark jeans, combat boots, a simple dark shirt, and a cardigan or jacket / hoodie of some sort. She doesn’t like wearing skirts or dresses much, because she strongly dislikes showing off her legs, as she often gets random bruises from going about, and isn’t comfortable showing them off. In the warmer months, showing off her midriff isn’t an issue for her. She has prescription glasses, but hardly ever wears them in public. In style terms, she can be described as edgy, in a classic way, but still comfortable, and more than willing to accessorize. Allison is the type of person to hang chains from her belt loops, and decorate her book bag with pins.

Personality:

Allison is generally a sweet and bubbly girl – but, that’s not to say she can’t be a bitch at times, particularly when provoked. She’s very opinionated, so sometimes her words don’t always come out the way she wants them to. What I mean is that she’s kind of a passive aggressive brat – unless she likes you, then of course she’ll tell you exactly what she thinks, in a assertive, rather than undertone based way. When it comes to emotions, she doesn’t really know what to do about them. She tends to isolates herself until they go away – or if she’s around people she trusts, she’ll try and distract herself with them or ask them for advice. Most of the time, she tries her best to conceal her feelings and show everyone her best self.

She’s a very intelligent kid – it’s more book smarts than street smarts – and she earns mostly a’s and b’s. Despite that, she isn’t the fastest learner, her best work takes the practice from revision. Taking the extra time to study so she can keep up with other students, she has an intense phobia of failure. Even though the young girl knows she’s pretty smart, she’s very insecure about her knowledge. She will often beat herself up over getting things wrong as she hates messing up. Her smarts are more rooted in her hardworking and studious habits, something she tries her best to work towards, and gets upset when she fails at.

Like most girls her age, Allison strives to be liked and validated by her peers and even of her elders ( aka the older kids ). She does her best to be nice to mostly everyone – offering her friendship to those who she feels are worthy, or who she thinks is just plain interesting. For instance, she still doesn’t smoke cigarettes, but due to seeking validation and sequentially falling into the trap of peer pressure, she started smoking weed. Flora was the root provider, and instigator of this. Which in turn, helps with her chronic migraines.

History:

One freezing December night, young Olive Mertz went into labor, her husband Xavier by her side at all times. The birth didn’t go as planned, halfway through, the baby girl got stuck. The doctors had no choice other than to transition into an emergency caesarean section ( c-section ). Thankfully, there weren’t any other complications, and the birth went well. Olive and Xavier decided to name their new baby girl Allison Verona Mertz.

Allison was a pretty abnormal baby. She was quiet most of the time – hardly ever waking her parents up out of their sleep – and was very calm. She never got along well with most other children, so Olive didn’t take her out much, trying her best not to upset her little angel. Since she was an only child, she got almost all of her mother and father’s attention – and they were guilty of spoiling her with gifts and almost anything she wanted. When she hit the age of four, her parent’s marriage started to fall apart bit by bit.

Of course, Allison was young and didn’t really understand what was happening between her parents – but she knew that it wasn’t good. Olive and Xavier got into arguments almost daily. The quarrels were rarely about anything in particular that would cause problems – such as neglect or affairs – no, it was mostly little things that the two found annoying about each other. Maybe one day, Olive would hear the smack of Xavier’s lips as he ate, and she’d put up with it for mere seconds before bursting out in anger. Allison would often go to her room and occupy herself with drawing or writing – trying her best to not pay attention to the screaming adults downstairs.

Around a year after the arguments started, she started school. Allison felt out of place in Kindergarten, but quickly found a group of people that were willing to take her in; The South Park Vampire Society. The group comforted her during hard times and made her feel at home. They were like her second family. She loved them with every fiber of her being. She dealt with the disgusting taste of clamato juice just to feel like she was a part of something. The vampires were her happy place – they felt like home.

Five years of the constant arguments had passed before the two got divorced. Once Allison understood what they were going through, she was actually happy that they’d gotten away from each other. Not long after the split, Olive and Xavier had started a custody battle over Allison. She bounced between her parents houses, which exhausted her mentally. In order to ease her mind from all of this, she began taking piano lessons and writing poetry.

Two years after the custody battle started, it had ended. Olive and Xavier settled for joint custody – meaning that Allison would be spending the weekdays with Olive and she’d spend the weekends with Xavier. When Allison’s twelfth birthday came along, Olive decided to get her a pet – at first, Allison requested getting a bat, but her mother wasn’t too keen on that – instead she got a Brewer’s Blackbird.

Now, she’s fifteen and much happier than she used to be, from utilizing healthy coping mechanisms, and healthier habits, her stress levels have lowered and she’s pleased with her living situation. She’s kind of a ( not-so-secret ) weeb, from using anime as an escape from her problems, like when she’s too drained to play piano or write poetry.

Sample paragraph:

It was the end of the day and many students were rushing the leave the school, but Allison stayed behind. Today, she was going to try something new – something that scared her out of her wits. She was going to share her poetry. She’d contacted the leader of the poetry club earlier in the week, she was told to come by to check out the club before she officially decided to join – and she was doing just that.

Allison took a seat beside the one person she was familiar with there – Bloodrayne, or rather, Katie Gelson. The club leader stood before the rest of the members and began to speak. “Today, instead of working on something new, we’ll share something we’ve already written. Each member will stand where I am, and read their poetry. I’ll go first.” They said with a gentle smile. One by one, each member read a piece of their poetry, and then it was Allison’s turn.

“Allison, come on up.” The leader spoke. She obeyed and went before the rest of the members with a piece of paper in her shaky hands. She examined the faces of the members who were waiting for her to read the words on the paper. Her eyes landed on Katie, who just gave a nod and a barely noticeable smile. She nodded to herself and began,

“Somewhere, tucked away in the vastness of it all, hidden between the horizon and the sea, there exists a world where you are loving ‘the one who got away’, where the words you never allowed yourself to say flow freely between your teeth. There exists a realm where everything you’ve done, you’ve done differently. It’s where you chose happiness. Maybe you’re much more joyful there – but that’s not the point. Maybe, just maybe, despite the regret, despite everything, you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. Right here, right now.”

The members shared a quiet applause. Allison felt like she was going to burst out in tears, but she didn’t. She just smiled sweetly and went back to her seat, taking deep breaths to calm her nerves.

Maybe this is where she was supposed to be.

Headcanons:

♡  She still doesn’t drink coffee; she usually goes for tea or hot cocoa.

♡  She loves the vampires dearly – and still goes to meetings and stays active in the vampire society.

♡  She has a lisp, even without her fangs in. She actually considered getting her teeth permanently sharpened to look like a vampires, but she decided against it because it was way too expensive.

♡  She also still writes poetry and plays piano at school. In fact, she really likes classic literature and poetry, she’s in the photography club and the poetry club.

♡  She has a pet Brewer’s Blackbird named Echo. Originally, she wanted a bat, but her mother is was very against it ( as mentioned in history ) – so she got a blackbird. Echo is now three years old. She’s also very protective of Echo, and doesn’t usually resort to violence, but if you hurt her birdie, she’ll probably try to stab you.

♡  She loves cop dramas and true crime shows, she really enjoys the mystery behind them, and the suspense leading up to the grand reveal.

♡  Her dream job is to own a funeral home and be the head mortician.

♡  She used to have one of the biggest crushes on Dougie O’Connell – the feelings have mostly dissolved.

♡  Her aforementioned chronic headaches have lead to having to take time off of school, and will often impair her vision.

Anything else: i hope i meet the requirements this time!! thank you for the second chance and putting up with my shit!! ♡♡

[reid-fiction]

First Day Jitters

In which Spencer’s daughter goes to her first day of kindergarten.

a/n: In my mind, Spencer started working part time at the BAU when his daughter was born, and teaches part-time as well so he doesn’t have to be away overnight. Also, I don’t know where the mother is in this reality. Let’s just say she’s on an extended vacation in Aruba.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Backpack?”

“Check!”

“Lunch?”

“Check!”

“Indoor shoes?”

“Check!”

“Pencil case?”

“Check!”

Spencer smiled, looking down at his 5-year-old daughter who was kneeling beside him while she rummaged through her backpack.

Today was the day. The day she had been excited for all summer and the day Spencer was dreading. His baby girl was about to start school. It almost seemed unreal to him; hadn’t she been a newborn just a few days ago? He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that she was already 5. No matter what he did - no matter how many hugs and cuddles, or band-aids and sniffles, or stuffed animals and trips to the zoo he provided - he wasn’t able to stop her from growing. 

Spencer was doing his best to put on a brave face. The last thing he wanted was for his daughter to think there was something to be sad or scared about and change her mind about wanting to go. She had really enjoyed pre-school the year before, but those had only been half-days in a much smaller school. Real school meant she was gone all morning and most of the afternoon, and sharing a building with kids twice her age and size.

She popped up and grinned at him, excitedly.

“Can we go now, daddy!?!”

“Almost,” he chuckled. “Breakfast first, right?”

Spencer had never seen her scarf down food so quickly. Usually, the mornings were slow and groggy. His daughter was anything but a morning person and he typically had to force her to eat something before she went to play or watch TV. This morning, however, she had cleared her plate and drank all of her milk before Spencer had even had a chance to sit down with his own breakfast.

“I’m done!” she announced, slipping off her chair and carrying her plate over to the sink. “NOW, can we go??”

“School doesn’t start for another 45 minutes, you monkey!” Spencer laughed, reaching out to pull her closer to him so she might calm down. “If we go now, you’ll be the only one there.”

He could see the deflation in her face so he tried to think of something he could suggest to occupy her until he was ready.

“How about you go brush your teeth and wash your hands, then come back and put everything you need for today in your backpack.” He motioned toward the floor where the various school items were still neatly laid out. 

She nodded, running away from him toward the bathroom which gave him the opportunity to actually make progress with his own breakfast. He knew, however, that the chances of him actually finishing the food in front of him before his daughter practically dragged him out the door was slim.

Sure enough, she was back within five minutes and quickly packed up her backpack for the day, before getting on her shoes and jacket and standing by the front door.

“Daddyyyyyy, pleaaaassseee??” she practically begged, bouncing up and down with both excitement and impatience. “It feels like it’s been 15 hours already!”

“Alright, alright!” Spencer said, taking one last bite of his breakfast and getting up from the table. “Yes, we can go now, but you’re still going to be early.”

She was still bouncing by the time he got over to the door and put his own shoes and jacket on. The school was only about a 10 minute walk from their house and, judging by what time it currently was, they would get there with about 20 minutes to spare. But, he wasn’t about to deny his daughter any longer.

The air was crisp with the beginnings of fall as they walked down the street. It was a welcome change from the hot summer they had experienced, most of which been spent in the outdoor pool at the recreation center. But now, the mornings were chilly enough to warrant a light jacket and Spencer held on tightly to his daughter’s hand as they approached the intersection. 

The closer they got to the school, the more kids started coming into view. Buses drove past and let loose a flurry of heads and backpacks - most of whom were a lot older and a lot taller than the little girl walking next to Spencer. Groups of kids breezed past them, laughing and talking before heading into the school. Screams of excitement and general enjoyment came from the playground, which was covered in kids climbing on monkey bars and running around the area. 

Spencer could suddenly tell that his daughter was slowly lowering her pace the closer they got, and her hand gripped his a little bit tighter. When they finally got to the front walkway, she stopped completely and did not let go, staring up nervously at the building in front of her. 

Spencer crouched down beside her and frowned at the noticeable change in her expression. Gone was the excitement of the morning. Now, she was looking hesitant and downright scared.

“Hey, are you ready to go in?” Spencer asked, trying to keep his voice chipper.

“Maybe...maybe we should come back tomorrow,” she replied.

“What do you mean? I thought you couldn’t wait another minute to go to school?”

She continued to glance nervously at the school as more kids whizzed past; the atmosphere around them becoming more and more busy as the start of the day drew closer. The next thing Spencer knew, he was watching her eyes fill with tears.

“Daddy, I don’t think I want to go anymore.”

In his five years of being a dad, the one thing that broke Spencer’s heart more than anything else was seeing his little girl in tears. He sighed, reaching out to smooth her hair back.

“Sweetheart, you’ll be fine,” he reassured her. “You’ve already met your teacher and seen your classroom. Everyone else will be starting their first day, too. You don’t have to be scared.”

“What if I get lost?” she asked, her voice now very small.

“You won’t get lost, love. Your teacher will show you where everything is.”

“What if the big kids are mean to me and I don’t have any friends?”

“You’ll make friends,” Spencer replied. “Remember, everyone else in your class is brand new to school as well. Everyone is going to want to make new friends, and they’ll make new friends with you.”

She paused, biting her lip and wiping away a few stray tears on her cheeks before looking over at her dad, sadly.

“What if...what if you forget to come back and get me and I’m here all alone?”

A few more tears slipped down her cheeks and Spencer ached as he brought her close to him and wrapped his arms around her.

“Sweetheart, that will not happen,” Spencer said, firmly. “You will never be here all alone; your teacher would not leave you here by yourself. And I will NEVER forget to come get you, I promise. If there is ever a day where I have to be at work and can’t make it in time, someone else will be here for you. Maybe some day, you can go home with Aunt JJ and Uncle Will after school and play with Henry and Michael. You know, Henry goes to this school, too. You might see him on the playground some day.”

She seemed to relax a bit at his reassurance, but was still not back to her previous level of excitement.

“You want me to stay with you for a bit?” Spencer asked. “I don’t have to be at work until later today, so I can stay if you need me to.”

Her eyes brightened a bit and she nodded, meekly.

“You got it, kiddo,” Spencer smiled, leaning over to kiss her forehead.

He took her hand again and walked with her into the school. The pep in her step had returned a bit as they apprached the familiar classroom she had seen a few weeks before. The welcome smile of her teacher seemed to help as well, as she was shown her special place to hang her jacket and the desk with her name on it.

Spencer hovered near the back of the classroom with a few other parents for the first bit of the day. By the time it was recess, however, Spencer was fairly certain that his daughter didn’t need him there anymore. She was happily playing and drawing and talking to her classmates and had likely forgotten he was even there.

Before he snuck out, he walked over to her when she was momentarily not surrounded by other kids.

“Do you think you’ll be okay if I leave for the rest of the day now?” he asked, willing to stay longer if she needed him but not wanting to hover.

He was met with the familiar grin she had been sporting earlier that morning and she nodded.

“You can go, daddy. I made a friend!”

Spencer smiled. “That’s great, sweetheart. I told you that you would. Okay, I’m going to go then, but I’ll be back to pick you up at the end of the day. I love you so, so much.”

“I love you too, daddy.”

“Have a great rest of your day, okay?”

She nodded, completely transfixed and distracted by the craft she was working on, and by the little boy who had come over to play with her. Spencer took that as his cue, and waved a thank-you to the teacher before slipping out the door.

The hallways were much quieter now, as classes were all in session, and Spencer found himself being the one with the tearful eyes as he made his way outside and down the sidewalk. 

She was perfectly fine - he knew that she would be - and he had no idea why it was so hard for him to let her go. It wasn’t as if she was running off and getting married, or moving to a remote country in Africa somewhere. She would still be home with him every night and on weekends. Besides, he would be busy with work and teaching during the day as well - he had been even when she wasn’t in school - but something about his daughter being officially a student was enough to make him get emotional. 

There would be many more transitions he would have to deal with as his daughter grew older; some would be more challenging than others and wouldn’t all be able to be solved with a hug and simple reassurance. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for the pains of puberty and dating and driving.

In the moment, Spencer actually wasn’t sure who growing up was going to be harder on: his daughter, or him.

If today was any indication, however, it was probably going to be him.

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Tag List:

@cynbx @gabriellewritermua @wheresthewater @toomanyfandomsshreya@thatisthemagic @helayes @marvelouspotterhead @randomfangirl1415 @criminally-me  @the-unfortunate-fangirl @everyday-imfangirling @skrrrrrrrrrrt

[selfish-thunder]

+ I've considered transitioning before, but I always let the thoughts of 'oh, what will ____ think of this?' get to me but now, my urge is growing stronger and I'm tired of looking in the mirror and seeing a girl. / So, I guess my question is, how does one fully decide to start T? And although I'm uncomfortable with how I am now, should I just wait post-graduation to begin identifying and begin transitioning, as doing so now will be denied and cause more problems than I already have?

Hi!!! Oh goodness, I feel honored you feel safe reaching out to me. I assume the other anon was from you, too, but I’ll put my reply to this one.

I hope I do good by you, and I'm sorry it's taken me a while to answer. I'll reblog this a few times in hopes you see it. 

First of all, I want you to know that I completely support and love you. And yes, will support and love you no matter what you decide for yourself. You can completely be whatever gender you ARE without any physical transitioning whatsoever, point blank. For whatever reason. Transitioning and identifying as something aren't mutually exclusive. I'm sorry you aren't in a position where you can just go ahead and do what will make you the most comfortable, and your concerns are valid. They directly affect your quality of life, so it is definitely a big decision.

So, I guess my advice is...

First of all, people may surprise you. (You can also be a little sneaky in how you come out to people, even though it's probably cheating lol. When I came out to my mother, I opened with "You told me you love me unconditionally. Is that still true", basically letting her know I was about to put that claim to the test. At the end of the day, she doesn't understand, is confused, but will stand by me.) 

And I totally understand how thinking "what will x think" can hold you back.So, I'll tell you something a friend told me once that was extremely helpful for me. Don't think of it as "coming out", but rather you inviting someone into your story. Being trans is especially difficult if you decide to transition because there is a period of time where you don't have the option of "being out" because one look, and people can guess. And that time is from starting hormones until about a year or two later, so again, your concerns are valid. Regardless, just because people might make assumptions based on appearance, that doesn't mean you have to let them into your story. You don't have to tell anyone anything if you aren't comfortable with it.

My next bit of advice would be, find an adult (I'm assuming you’re a teenager, so my apologies if you meant school as in university) or a teacher who you trust. It may not be someone you've interacted with a lot, maybe just had for one class, but if you feel like this person is reasonably open-minded and accepting, you can go ahead and let them know there's something on there. Not the full story if you don’t want, but something. 

I did that with my boss and a few of my coworkers so when going to HR, I already had support. If you decide to transition, you can then approach the school and offer a willingness to work with them, and you can show on the record that you were agreeable and reasonable (COYA, in case they're a bunch of dicks). 

There's also a ton of resources. 

For example, where I live, there's a thing called the "TransBuddy" program that is a bunch of volunteers willing to help, such as going to doctor's with you, helping with legal name changes and gender markers, schedule appointments and be an active voice explicitly to support you. Go incognito and see what's around your area. From my experience, a lot of people are willing to come to you if they're in a different town. Just please, please, please be safe. Ask for references.

If you do not feel comfortable or safe doing your own research for whatever reason, I am happy to try to help. (I’ll try to already put together something of national support and things anyway, maybe a lot of people can use it...)

As far as what to expect during your first few months...

For the first few months, expect your body to sweat a lot more (your scent will change too, and the sweatiness last a long time, tbh), you'll start to grow hair (EVERYWHERE I swear), your face will probably bloat some, and your voice will start to change a little (ie, start cracking when you talk, etc). You may find yourself happier and less anxious because you're finally starting HRT and finally getting to be the person you want, but t can effect emotion too, such as finding yourself more easily irritated or what have you. So if you notice a change in emotion reaction, just keep that in mind. And you'll grow your own Adam's apple (I don't know why people actually think they're implants?????)

After about six months, your emotions should even out. Your voice will continue to drop, most likely, and growing facial hair will be easier. Your face will also start to harden then (probably might bloat so more), becoming more masculine. After about a year, your Adam's apple will probably be prominent, facial hair common (even if it's not thick yet), and then is usually around the time people begin surgeries if that's what you want.

Keep in mind, your doctors will start you off on low dosage, and you'll work your way up. Also please keep in mind that, though you can stop hormones at any time, so effects will not reverse, such as growing facial hair and your voice. 

Even if you stop t, those will remain how they are when you stop. Just something to keep in mind.

So yeah, it's a big decision, but I don't have to tell you that. I would look for an LGBT clinic, or at least an LGBT-friendly clinic, and get all the info from a licensed doctor before officially ruling one way or another. 

Please, please, please note: If the doctor is making you uncomfortable, feel like they aren't listening to you, or obviously tries to sway you against it because of their own personal ideals or opinions, find a different doctor. Politely thank them for their opinion, and feel free to discard it. A doctor should put your health and your mental health first, and dysphoria is a real, legit, big, and sometimes dangerous thing.

Which brings me to my last bit. 

There are lots you can do to feel more comfortable in your body other than transition or doing HRT. Binders and packers (my packer is awesome, I love it so f’ing much) help me as well as just wearing men's clothes. Having a support group helps tremendously too. Also, having a gender-neutral presentation may help too. For me personally, I shrugged off the expected feminine appearance years ago. I unintentionally got people used to seeing me without makeup, wearing big boots and flannel. Them finding out that I'm now on t caused most of them to be like, "Huh, yeah. I can see that."

So, if you only a little bit longer to go before you are able to graduate, move to a more supportive place, and politely start to break away from those who would deny you or make you feel unwelcome just because you dare to be who you are, then that could be a game plan of sorts. It was for me, at least, at work.

I mean, this is your LIFE. This is who YOU are. Be honest with yourself, yes, but there's nothing saying you can't be clever about it. Right now, it's the summer, so you can some time to play with your appearance and how you present yourself before you have to go back, if that’s something you want to do.

The most important thing is you do what is best for you, for your health, both physical and mental, and when it comes down to it, you don't have to invite anyone into your story. I can't advise you as to what decision you should make because that's yours to make. Again, though, whatever you decide, you have my complete and utter support.

And for what it's worth, to this blog, you are a man with he/him pronouns for however long you want. I have yet to meet a trans person who at any point thought their journey was going to be easy, but it definitely doesn't have to be lonely or unnecessarily hard. You are allowed to ask for what you need, to ask for help, and to tell any adult - any person - that they make you feel unsafe and you request to deal with someone else. Please be safe, make sure you map your exits, but don't be afraid to stand up for you.

If you need anything, feel free to reach out. You can DM me, too, and I promise to keep anything we talk about confidential and offer you a safe, nonjudgmental space.

[otome-reviews]

Scandal in the Spotlight: Kyohei Rikudoh Review [SPOILERS]

Ah, Kyohei. One thing you should probably know about me before I get started is that I have been stanning k-pop boyband EXO hardcore for years and there is album art on both my phone and my computer, haha. So to say I was thrilled to learn Voltage Love 365 app has a boy band otome would be a MASSIVE understatement! But how was the route, you ask? Read on to find out!

The world of Scandal in the Spotlight is uh... pretty cut-throat, to say the least. Aspiring MC starts out getting blacklisted from the industry after rejecting Harvey Weinstein her creepy, powerful boss. :( Then her coworker/secret member of popular boy band Arashi Revance, freaking STEALS poetry she wrote for a screenplay and adapts it into Revance’s latest hit (!!!). And then Kyohei, band producer/member and subject of this review, strong-arms/threatens MC into ghostwriting erotic lyrics for their 10th anniversary, in exchange for getting her un-blacklisted afterwards...!!

...Yikes. Poor MC (I hope she got paid for the plagiarism and she’s getting paid for the ghostwriting?! Super important 💰). Anyway, at first glance Kyohei definitely comes across as your typical scary/aggressive and demanding alpha male ("I make the rules here. Anyone who gets in our way will be dropped, no exceptions”). He might not be the official leader of the group, but he sure acts like he is. Kyo is willing to do whatever it takes to ensure Revance’s continued success, including using his professional clout to stifle an up-and-coming rival group (which I found very confusingly attractive, lmao). And with MC, he’s just as bossy, but also SUPER FREAKING FLIRTATIOUS like you have no idea (“If you don't have enough experience...perhaps we can fix that”). And of course the guy has to claim it’s all in the name of inspiring MC to write sexier lyrics and he couldn’t possibly be attracted to MC, lmao.

But much like his giant adorable mop of a dog (named Little Yamada!! ^_^), when it comes to MC, Kyohei is all bark and no bite. From the start, he’s nice to MC his own bizarre, super extra way. When MC’s feeling down about her skills, he doesn’t hesitate to buy out massive amounts of ad space from Shibuya Crossing just to prove a point, lol. And after the turning point in the story, Kyo becomes downright protective of MC, keeping his manager and the other members off MC’s back while she struggles with writer’s block! Aww.

TBH, domineering types tend to be really hit or miss for me. But in Kyohei’s case, it’s a hit (mostly! more on that below). For starters, once Kyohei starts caring about MC he’s never mean ever again (even if he still loves teasing her) and I am so super weak to otome guys who pull off that transition well. I liked his tragic backstory/motivation, cheesy as it was. And finally, Kyohei plays into your typical diva-ish pop star romance fantasy really nicely. It’s all about expectations: a bad boy-type pop star is WAY more interesting than a super nice pop star imho, and this is one of the rare cases where I think a completely nice character wouldn’t be nearly as compelling as someone like Kyohei, who does turn out to be vaguely nice ish, but also has a bit of an edge to him.

Speaking of pop fantasies, I generally enjoyed the plot progression, which was one giant, unbelievably cheesy wish fulfillment fantasy. Poor, sweet MC’s struggles to come up with sexy lyrics tie in really nicely with her growing relationship with Kyohei, and I always do love it when the external plot and romance get intertwined. But one thing that I didn’t like as much is the plot’s main villain, who at once wants to produce for Revance, poach MC, and get in MC’s pants...?! It’s too much!! I personally think the story’s conflict would’ve been much cleaner if his creepy romance subplot were completely removed.

Also, this isn’t really a critique as it is a commentary, but: parts of this story were kind of sad/infuriating to read from a post-#metoo perspective. MC’s screenwriting career was completely screwed through no fault of her own, after all! And much as Kyo did grow on me, he did initially force MC into the whole ghostwriting gig. So, this might sound kind of weird, but I think an AU of Scandal in the Spotlight featuring Kyohei as a villain type would’ve been EVEN COOLER while satisfying my never-ending thirst for revenge against evil guys? Imagine: MC turns down Revance flat, and goes straight to rival group Grenade, romancing one of those boys instead. Her and Boy work together to start a viral internet campaign to take down both Harvey Weinstein and Revance. It becomes an epic tale of MC+Boy vs the world, and in the end Revance and Grenade resolve their differences IkeSen style (though Grenade wins), while former boss gets sent to jail. Now wouldn’t that be satisfying to read. :) (...okay maybe this is why I was rejected from creative writing class in school lmao)

And while we’re talking about #metoo, there is one specific scene with Kyohei that I didn’t like! Early on, he smacks MC’s butt (flirtatiously??). I secretly kind of enjoyed all the other sexy, aggressively flirty things he pulls, but that one’s just straight up harassment! :( Fortunately, later in the route, Kyohei makes it clear that a) he’ll quit the flirting if MC tells him to stop, and b) he asks for consent before actually getting it on with MC. So there’s that... Anyways, this incident is one of the reasons why, mid-way through Episode 2, I was certain I was going to hate Kyohei with a fiery passion and that this review was going to be an extended rant about celebrities. But it really speaks to Kyohei’s character evolution that I ended up forgiving him for his transgressions, mostly.

Overall, if you’re willing to accept a party size helping of cheese in your romance stories (or, if you have ever had a crush on any of 1D/NSYNC/The Beatles/etc), I think you’ll like Kyohei. His route is definitely not perfect, and it certainly isn’t high literature, but it provides some super satisfying wish fulfillment and is generally a fun, sexy read!

Choice quote:

“Kyohei...I think I’m starting to get the wrong idea...” “You don’t have the wrong idea.” 💕

Personality: 8/10. I really wouldn’t call Kyohei a nice guy in general, and I have beef with how he acted in the beginning, but Kyohei post-turning point in plot is pretty awesome. The guy manages to be nice to MC and super mega sexy at the same time. Also I love how extra he is. It’s perfect for a pop star.

Appearance: 8/10. This guy’s hair is simultaneously the most and least necessary thing ever, lol. 

MC: 6/10. I like how self-aware and determined MC is. However, she was too passive for my personal tastes, especially when it came to the asshole men in her life. (Also girl really needs to learn how to digitize/password protect her lyrics...)

Plot/Payoff: 6/10. I generally enjoyed how gloriously cheesy the plot was, especially with regards to MC’s lyric writing and her relationship with Kyohei, but I do think the main villain ended up trying to do way too much. Also, I really wanted to see the creepy screenwriter get his comeuppance in the story, and I would LOVE confirmation that MC’s getting paid for her troubles! 💰💰

Personal enjoyment: 7/10. I started out really disliking this route because MC gets screwed over way too hard in the beginning, but Kyohei himself really makes this story more enjoyable than it has any right to be! ^_^

I was sent this story to review honestly as part of @officialvoltageotome‘s review campaign! All thoughts are 100% mine. :)

Masterlist

[limitededitionsanderssidesblog]

The Stacks - Chapter 1

Ships: Eventual Prinxiety and Logicality

Summary: In this society there is a place where the poor and unwanted are placed and kept hidden away from everyone else, where poverty and crime are a frequent and life shines for no one. Stacked up high in the sky, this is the furthest anyone living there will ever reach. When a Depression consumes the land, and the government fails to bring an end to it, society turns even further on the residents of the Stacks, accusing them for bringing the rest of them down. What no one knows, however, is that it'll take the work of four unlikely people to not only bring an end to the poverty, but also to this inequality.

AO3 - Here

Next

The early morning sounds of the Stacks always consisted of the same things each day; the beggars would be getting up from their boxes or crates and head into the city, some would stay and beg where they were, and others would instead head for the restaurant district for lunchtime when leftovers from breakfast would be thrown into the trash; gang members would bang on the side of crate doors, demanding the weekly pay for their so called protection; and at least a fight or two would breakout in the dirt streets before the time reached ten o’clock.

However all that early bustle was drown out by the numerous clocks stored in such a small space. The constant ticking was the only peace one could hope to find in this hell. Sitting up slowly from his makeshift bed, a young man with a head of dark black hair and a purple fringe got up to start his daily ritual.  Only twenty years in age, life had not been kind to him, although, when had it been ever been kind to anyone here?

The man looked to the hand made wall clocks and watches stored in a cardboard box and peered over them to see which ones where ready to sell. One, two, three… only four of them did he deem in good enough state to be sold. That left five others in need of more parts and material. Gathering the watches up in his hoodie pockets and bringing the cardboard box and a sheet with him, he opened the large door to his crate. Placed on top of the third highest stack in the city he had a tough time climbing down rope ladders and poorly made, rigid stairs, but living on top had its perks, one of being he didn’t have to deal with resident gangs as often.

Running over to the edge of the Stacks the man headed for a transit to take him into the city center; and by transit he meant an older woman who happened to be one of the few here to own a truck and got her money by driving people from the Stacks to the city and back. She had a rigid schedule, and if your didn’t make her set time, you had to walk.

Already waiting there was a oddly bubbly man, dressed in ripped khaki shorts and a light blue polo shirt with a few patches sewn on. How this death hole could have ever produced such a sweet and loving man he'll never know. Looking up to see him running over, he waved his hands eagerly to greet him.

"Morning Virgil!" He greeted brightly as they climbed into the back of the truck.

"Hey, Patton. Sorry I was almost late." The Clockmaker apologized, taking a seat next to him as the truck began to pull away from the stop.  

The tuck started down the road moving from the dirt and entering the highway that led directly to the downtown area. Sitting in the very back of the pickup truck, smashed in with ten other people, Virgil watched as the towers of junk became smaller and smaller, dreaming of the day he’d be able to leave them for good.

The Stacks. Its definition might as well mean the end of the road. It was where one would go when when he had nowhere else, no one else, and nothing else. Set up anywhere from fifteen to sixty feet high, abandoned shipping crates, broken down buses, old vans and trucks became home. Safety wasn’t a concern here, and the only way up or down were either climbing or busted up ladders. All walks of life came here. Those who are out of work, those who can’t work, the ones who are rejected by everyone else, and those who were abandoned by everyone else. It was a hot spot for criminal activity due to the lack of care by the authorities. Tucked away on the outskirts of the third largest city in the nation, in the fourth smallest province in the nation, here you were as valued by society as dirt. Coupled along with the New Depression which was sweeping the nation, these stacks kept growing; and not just in this city, but everywhere to. With such a large number of homeless and jobless one would think the government officials would be doing all that they could to fix it, but that’s where you’d be wrong.

Virgil Black had been only seventeen when the Depression first stuck and he had to watch as everything around him fell apart. Any help the officials tried to offer only ended up backfiring and making it worse. He was a hopeful soul back then, believing that hard work would get him out of his situation, but now he knew better. Even if the Depression came to an end, he was never getting out of the Stacks, that was just a fact. His only real skill was making watches, and who had the money to buy those anymore?

Pulling to a stop, the truck arrived five blocks away from downtown, everyone climbed out and headed out for the day before the would return for their only ride home at seven. Except for him though, he had Patton to pick up later.

After a short goodbye the two friends went their separate ways and Virgil set out to the business district, which was the best place to sell his wares. Business men and collectors, and even those who just had extra money to spend were his target audience. He set up shack on the side of a large bank, displaying his watches and clocks on his cardboard box, covered by a sheet to make it look like a table.

Fifteen minutes passed of Virgil calling passers to his 'table' without any luck before a rushed man in a dark blue suit and black rimmed glasses ran up to his table.

“Do you have the time?” He asked, obviously late for something.

“I do,” Virgil replied nonchalantly, trying to act like he wasn't desperate for his money, “For ten bronze.”

The man gave him an incredulous look before begrudgingly pulling out his wallet with a heavy sigh. Virgil gladly took the paper money from the stranger and gestured to the table for him to choose whatever watch he wanted. The man looked down and grabbed the simplest watch on the table, a silver watch with a small roman numeral design and fake black leather band. Checking the time on the clock the man calmed down and gave a curt nod towards Virgil, heading on his way.

Virgil watched him go for a moment, before turning back to the crowd, searching through the faces to spot anyone who looked like they had too much cash. Before long Virgil sold a brass wall clock for fifteen bronze too another sucker who go caught in his web.

…

Walking through the busy streets of the city center Logan Winchester walked up the steps of the head police precinct. He had called in to meet an old friend of his with what may be some very good news. Looking to the new watch he hadn’t been expecting to buy today, he saw that he was still five minutes early. Interesting… did he walk here from that stand in under a minute?

“Logan!” A loud and boisterous voice called from one of the many cubicles, drawing his attention away from the accessory.

“That’s Senator Winchester to you now.” He said to him as he walked over to meet him. “It’s good to see you, Roman.”

“Of course it is.” Roman smirked as he flexed pretentiously, “I haven’t seen you since you were elected last year.”

“Yes, well, I’ve been kept busy by work as of late.” Logan stated to his friend since college. “And that is precisely why I came here.”

The smirk on Roman’s face began to fall away as confusion over took his expression, not understanding what he mean. Logan gestures for him to follow after him as he walks away to a quiet corner where they could talk without being eavesdropped on. Once there, Logan reached into his briefcase and pulled out a file and handed in over to Roman. When he looked in all he saw was his, rather impressive, track record, and the record of what he assumed was one of Logan's subordinates.

“I’m losing faith in my head of security. They were very loyal to the last senator, who had vastly different ideas from I. I am in need of someone I can put faith in to help me lower the crime rates in the province.”

Roman looked through the records, which had appeared to have been thoroughly marked up and read through. He stared at his friend in a mix of shock and excitement. He had always hoped for a promotion sometime, but he was expecting something like deputy chief. This was completely beyond what he had ever hoped for.

“Are you asking me what I think you are?” He asked with a childlike glee. Logan gave a small chuckle. Roman's youthful mind and tenacity was just what he was looking for to help him fix the society's state.

“Indeed, Roman. Will you become my new head of security?”

“YES!” Roman shouted before quickly covering his mouth, “I mean, I’d be honored... Senator Winchester.”

“That was a joke, please don’t call me that.”

In anticipation that Roman would run around proclaiming his promotion to the entire faculty and maybe even the whole city, Logan explained in detail all the necessary steps he’d have to take before he could take office. Most of the procedure had already been taken care of, but it would still be one to two weeks before Roman would officially be the new head of security. Roman nodded along as Logan explained these things to him, yet he couldn’t stop bouncing in his seat like a kid who had eaten too much sweets. Seeing that he wasn’t really paying attention to the instructions, Logan sighed and decided to change the subject.

“How about an early lunch? I’ll treat you to it.” Logan offered, standing back up the bench.

“Sounds good, but I wouldn’t say it’d be early. It’s fifteen ‘till noon.” Roman responded, pointing to the plain clock above the main doors.

“Wait, but I thought-” Logan looked down at his watch and saw that the arms haven’t moved since it’s purchase, meaning he had been late all along. Moving the dial on the side Logan set it to the correct time before clicking it down, setting the arms in motion. “He didn’t set it.”

“Who didn’t?” Roman asked, standing up and taking a look at the watch on his friend's wrist. “Where’d you get that?”

“A merchant on the street sold it to me for ten bronze when I asked for the time.” Logan recalled to the, hopefully, soon to be former police officer.

“Ten bronze?! That’s worth more like five!” Roman exclaimed, becoming angered at the fact that Logan was swindled by a street rat.

“Come now, It wasn’t too much. At least he didn’t go as far ask to ask for ten silver.” Logan said as he led them out the large, double doors of the precinct and down the street to the tram station to take them to lunch.

“First, that’s a horrible comparison, and second you don’t know if he even had a license to sell that! It could have been stolen merchandise for all you know-”

“Roman.”

“Now a hooligan is on the loose in the streets practically stealing from people-”

“Roman!”

“And selling black market watches on the block to poor innocent workers and using the money to do who knows what-”

“Roman!” Logan grabbed his shoulder, finally shutting him up from his rambling, and pointed over across the street at a lone man in a patchwork hoodie handing a pocket watch over to an old woman. “He’s right there.”

Roman turned his head in the direction of his hand and saw the despicable man in action, clipping the probably fake gold chain onto the woman’s coat and handing the hand held clock over, greedily taking the money from an innocent.

“Well then we have to stop him!” Roman declared as he ran across the street through traffic without a second thought.

“Roman wait!” Logan shouted after him but fell on deaf ears. Letting out a groan, Logan ran ran over to the nearest crosswalk and hurried to catch up with the man before he got too reckless and did something stupid. 'Why did I choose him, again?' He questioned in his head.

Roman dodge the bustling cars on the road and the swarming people on the sidewalk gracefully and bolted for the stand, slowing himself down as he got closer. Soon enough he was calmly walking up to the watch man, feigning interest in buying.

“How much are these may I ask?” He asked with false curiosity, picking up the only watch left to look at it closer. It was strangely nice looking, nicer than the one Logan bought, definitely not worth ten bronze though. But it didn’t look stolen, if it was it’d be worth more, homemade maybe?

“Twenty bronze.” The man said from his seat of the city bank steps.

“Twenty?” Roman echoed, raising his eyebrow. ‘That more that what had cost Logan.’ “Surly this is worth much less?”

“Welp, times are tough, gotta buy bread somehow.” The man shrugged, obviously ignorant of who he was talking to.

Roman eyed him up a down with a grimace, looking over his so called stand, that he could tell was actually just a box. There is no way what this man doing was legal, and even if it was, it's obvious that this man is from the Stacks, which means he must be up to no good.

“Well, I hope you wouldn’t mind showing me you’re papers?” He asked cockily, whipping out his badge from his inside coat pocket and practically shoving it in the man’s face. Instantly the guy lost his relaxed composure and sat up straight, eyes widening to the size of dinner plates, panic evident all over his face. The shit grin on Roman wore only grew bigger at the man’s frightened reaction. Cat's out of the bag. “I’m guessing that’s a no, then?”

Roman reached behind back for the spare pair of handcuffs, hidden by the tail of his coat, that he always kept on hand, but was instead met with a smack in the face as the man hastily stood up and threw the entire stand in his face before making his get away. Roman tried to get up to go after him but ended up getting the sheet stuck on his head. By the time he finally got the damn thing off his head the crook was long gone, escaping into the thick crowd.

The low, clearing cough behind him made Roman jump and spin around. Logan stood there with his arm crossed and his eyebrow raised, looking expectantly for a good excuse.

“You’re not gonna change your mind, right?”

…

The kitchen had always been a hectic place for a chef, with hectic customers and fast paced orders it was a high stress inducing environment. However to him it was a second home. Even though Patton wasn’t technically a chef, he did know how to cook. His mother had overworked herself most of his life and ended up falling ill when he was ten, so he had to take over the cleaning and cooking duties. He became really good at it overtime and his mother even said he’d be able to become a high end chef one day. So that’s what he worked towards over the next fifteen years. Yet, despite his skill, his background just wasn’t impressive enough to get him the position, so he settled for garbage boy instead.

Even if it wasn’t his dream job, it was close enough, as long as he was in a kitchen he’d be happy. He still got to use the kitchen after he finished his shift to bring food back home to his friends and family, even though the trade off to do so was a percentage out of his paycheck.

Speaking of, his shift should be over in a few minutes, he should start preparing the food. What should he make tonight? There were a lot of tomatoes, peppers, and cheese leftover, he could make stuffed peppers!

“Clean these stack rat.” A voice, accompanied by a tub full of dirty plates commanded. It was the sou chef Nathaniel Briggs, one of his superiors, and not the only one in this kitchen who didn’t want him here.

“I’m sorry Briggs, but my shift just ended.” Patton tried to tell him but was quickly silenced.

“And you were just about to dirty our kitchen with your filthy paws! The very least you could do is clean these dishes!” Patton shrunk back and nodded, gingerly taking the dishes from him and placing them in the sink. “Oh, and don’t forget to lock up for me.” Nathaniel told him as he left him alone in the kitchen.

This wasn’t the first time one of the chefs forced him to do their work. It wasn’t a secret that almost the entire staff hated him either. Everyone at the Pájaro Rico were either high end or upper mid end, Patton was the only one there who came from the Stacks. He didn’t let it bother him too much though, even if he isn’t payed of treated equally, his mother was a proud Stacker, and so was he.

On the dot as usual, the back door to the restaurant was opened and in came fellow Stacker and Patton’s best friend, Virgil. Virgil would always accompany him home, since he could never make it in time to catch Silvia’s truck transit. Although it looked like Virgil would have to wait a little longer tonight.

“You doing Nathaniel’s work again, huh?” He asked rhetorically as he walked up. Patton nodded sadly, not looking up since he already knew what face he was making. It was the one he always made when anyone treated them bad because of their status as Stackers. “Common I’ll clean, you cook.”

“If my boss thinks I’m not working he’ll get upset.” Patton murmured, rinsing off a plate and setting it in the drying rack.

“You got of twenty minutes ago Pat, this is work without pay, let me do it.” Virgil shot back and took patton’s hands out of the soapy water and replaced them with his. “The only thing you should be working on is a nice hot meal for everyone back home.”

Patton grinned at him and let out a soft giggle, conceding to Virgil’s wishes and getting to work on what he had planned. Patton went over to the tub of unused, half used, or messed up dishes to see what he could salvage before they were thrown away. Some lettuce leafs, a couple of diced tomatoes, some poorly cut orange peppers and a bit of sour cream. Patton smiled brightly at what he was able to save and began to prep the peppers and dice the lettuce. By the time Virgil had finished washing, Patton had finished and slid the stuffed peppers into the oven to cook for ten minutes. When those ten minutes were up, the dishes were put away and the peppers were placed in to-go boxes. With a final sweep of the place, Patton locked up the place then headed out.

“So how did sales go today?” Patton asked as they walked down to the tram station. The tram didn’t go all the way out to the Stacks and cost a lot more than Silvia’s truck, but it was there only option this late at night.

“Less and less people are buying these days." Virgil sighed in defeat, "It seems like the Depression is starting to reach the upper mid end, before long the entire nations gonna go to shi- crap.” Virgil confided in him, correcting himself when Patton gave him that glare.

“I’m sure prosperity is just around the corner! Look at us, were doing just fine.” Patton said brightly, trying to be optimistic.

“We live in the Stack, Pat.” Virgil stated plainly, distaste evident in his words.

“And what’s wrong with that?” Patton asked seriously, challenging him. Virgil stayed quiet and bought his ticket from the machine before getting on. The air was thick with that question looming over their heads, quieting their conversation.

Looking out the window Patton saw the large silhouettes of crudely assembled towers that he had been born and raised in. While he was not ashamed of his background, he could not deny that it was not a place any child should be raised. The danger and impoverishment all told the same story for all who lived there.

Desperation.

.

.

Lol a random fic idea came to me out of nowhere and I had to write it. Please tell me it’s good?

[kissykiwi]

the day before you came (1)

im still writing this, but i couldn’t resist posting the very first chapter.  im excited about this piece, and i hope y’all will be too !!! welcome to my official return to writin things.

wherein harry is a travel writer who has officially reached his breaking point, y/n is a hotelier’s daughter who has never left kalokairi, and their paths are destined to meet. (mamma mia au, 2200 words)

There were days when Y/N really hated summer.  The effusion of flowers, running under bowers heavy with lemons, lying out in the sway of the tides under a full moon -- none of it felt worth it as she, her mother, and Georgie ran about The Muse.  It was the last day before the summer travel season truly began, and their little hotel was battening down the hatches for their first batch of tourists.

“Y/N, have you put the linens out on the line?  And Georgie, has Nikolas called about bringing in the week’s groceries yet?  I told you both that our first guest comes in at midnight tonight, and I’d like to have a cheese plate out to greet him!”

Because she was a good daughter, Y/N steadfastly resisted the urge to roll her eyes.  This was the third time Dee had reminded of her of the sheets that were quite visibly fluttering in the wind -- Y/N had even remembered the duvet and pillow covers that her mother always forgot.  Whoever this mystery guest was (listed only in the guestbook as “Rick Steves”), he had her mother in quite the tizzy.

“Yes mom.  And Georgie’s already told you that Nik was on the way, given that they never seem to manage two minutes without texting each other.”

To her right, two wide, brown doe eyes glared her down underneath a mop of riotous dark curls.

“He is my friend,” Georgie sniffed, flopping her mane of hair over her shoulder as she went to grab the stock book out of the front office.  Even Dee snorted at that one.

“Good friend, dear.  You oughta make a move.”

Beneath her sun burnished olive skin, Georgie turned bright red.  Y/N marveled at how perfectly in sync it was to the buzz of her phone.

“The food has come in from the mainland.  And just for that, Y/N, you can get it.”

“I’ll make sure to bring Nik with me,” Y/N called as she skipped towards the stairway down to the docks.

The stairway was tied without about 10 other places on the island for Y/N’s favorite view.  It had a sweeping panorama of the Aegean Sea as you clattered down the worn stone that made the staircase, and was lined on one side by a solemn row of cypress trees that she always rubbed for good luck (and for perfume).  As you got further down the winding cliffside, The Muse disappeared from view, and Y/N personally thought the surprise of coming up to B&B really added to value.  It was seldom enjoyed, as most guests either preferred or required the car ride up to their little villa, but that just meant it was Y/N’s secret in plain sight.  Sometimes she could sit halfway down, out of sight of both the hotel and the docks, and imagine what life was like beyond the Aegean, leagues past the limits of the towns in Greece she had seen.  Others she would follow her little northward path down the other side of the hill to Calliope’s Beach and float in the shallows until her fingers pruned and her hair was fairly coated with salt.  

The stairs themselves continued on down to a path that lead to the docks, where she had to go now.  The hotel’s ‘88 Range Rover, which was 60% blue paint and another 40% rust, was waiting at the top of the docks to carry the groceries back up the winding hill.  Y/N jogged down the steps, resisting the call of the beach as she went to run her errands.

Nik was tied off to the northmost piling in the docks like always, already busy stacking the hotel’s orders onto the dock beside him.  Crates of fresh veggies, pungent cheeses, and the first few days of seafood had made their way onto the wooden boards, and no doubt the specifically requested order of teas was the last to come.  Y/N’s eyebrows had about hit her hairline when she’d seen the list of some regional, some clearly British brews that had been added in almost hilarious quantity to their usual roster.  

“Got a bit of an herbalist coming, hm?” Nik asked as he hefted the last chest out onto the docks.  Y/N nodded slowly.

“Apparently.  D’you know Georgie told me that whoever requested these also called ahead to see if we’d allow his candles?”

Nik laughed, though Y/N knew for a fact that it was information Georgie had given him the week before when the call came in.  Ever the good sport.

“Well, at least you know he’ll be careful enough not to burn the Muse down.  Probably, anyway.  Do you know anything else about whoever requested all of this?”  Y/N couldn’t help but sigh, because she didn’t, and it was bugging her.  Usually her mother was something of an open book regarding who would be coming in to see them, but she was abnormally tight lipped regarding this specific guest.  Wouldn’t even give vague details, like age or nationality, or if Mr. Steves was even a Mr. at all.  

“Not a thing Nik,” she responded over the clunk of their crates being loaded into the trunk.  “I can hardly wait for tonight.”

---

Kalokairi, Harry thought, had better be bloody beautiful for all the hassle it was to get out to it.  He had only just finished the rounds for his latest book (Couch Surfing In Copenhagen: Scandinavia for Twenty Somethings), finalizing the last leg of his work in the bustle that was New York, and he was already well drained by the time he’d hit JFK.  He was just beginning hour three of his car ride from Athens to Lirios, one that had begun immediately after a ten hour nonstop flight, and he was well and truly out of energy.  He still had a half hour ferry to go to get to the island itself after they’d made it to the docks.  There was a headache growing behind his eyes, though whether it was from the extended travel, the amount of time he’d been awake, or the itch he had for one of the cigarettes his driver had been periodically smoking, he wasn’t sure.

Safe to say his relaxing, restorative three month break was starting as anything but.  As he watched the Greek highway roll by, he couldn’t help but feel a bit melancholy.

There was a time in his life when no matter how jetlagged he was, no matter how many hours he spent in transit, the thrill of travel kept him feeling fresh.  There was an image he had in his mind then, of a seed on the wind, ready to plant himself wherever the breeze helped him land.  That was how his writing career had started.  He had been eighteen, going on small trips from England to the continent and writing little blogs about it to get some practice in for his dream magnum opus.  It had felt like a dream when one of the UK’s biggest publishers had approached him about a travel novel.  One novel had turned into two had turned into five, and now at the ripe old age of twenty four, Harry had officially had his midlife crisis.

Where had his plans gone for a more serious novel?  Alright-- well.  He would defend his travel work to the grave, so he didn’t want the impression going about that he was ashamed of it, because he never would be.  He knew he’d helped people, whether it was to find where to go or to enjoy a long plane ride of their own.  But since fourteen he’d envisioned a proper zeitgeist novel; funny but honest, reflective but not obvious, the kind of thing that could represent a generation.  Crashing in Cairo: An Englishman’s Journey Through North Africa certainly wasn’t his most contemplative work.  And besides that, he wondered what travel meant to him anymore besides a few months work and a paycheck.  There was a love he’d had once, and he felt an ache in his chest knowing that that was gone.

All of this he had explained through heaving, shuddery breaths on a long distance connection to Gem, who had responded with a deep sigh.

“Frankly, H, I think you need a sabbatical,” she’d said knowingly.  “Just get away from it all, take a break.  Stay somewhere for longer than a month.”  Harry had laughed somewhat hysterically.

“Getting away from it all’s my job, Gem.  The usual solutions are a bit out of my grasp.”

“I mean it Harry.  Find a tiny island somewhere and just take time for yourself.  No travel writing, no deadlines, no talking to your agent about where in the world they’re dropping you off next.”

“I can’t even look at a map of the world without getting nauseous,” he moaned and hey, that may have been an exaggeration, but Harry was feeling awfully grim.

“Then you’ll take my recommendation with no questions.  There’s this little place called Kalokairi.  It’s a Greek island in the Aegean, that’s practically made of sun, blue water, and good food.  I stayed there with my friends a year or two ago, and they have the most wonderful little hotel there that I know you’ll love.  How does three months this summer sound?”

A rock in the middle of the ocean had sounded pretty damn good, and so here he was hurtling down the road to what was likely little more than a dinghy out to an island he hadn’t even googled.

Truly, what had his life become?  Curling his shaking fingers into his palm, he leaned forward to his driver.

“Say, could I bother you for a cigarette?”

---

Y/N was fairly wrecked by the time she made it to her bed in the room above the registration desk.  As her mother aged she did more heavy lifting, and she felt as though she had run a marathon or two.  At the very least Dee had taken pity and sent her up for bed instead of asking her to wait for the mysterious Mr. Steves.

She’d heard nothing of him before his check in, and the radio silence had her absolutely itching to see what all the fuss was about.  Though she never told her mother it, the guests were her way of living vicariously outside of their microcosm of the world.  Being denied any information about their international man (or woman) of mystery had her head spinning with scenarios.  Maybe it was some high up government boss bitch here on a rest and recovery, someone who’d have stories of Moscow and Sao Paulo and Jakarta.  Could be that it was some creaky old man who’d lived in Berlin during the Cold War and had stories about sneaking across the wall and the underground scene.  Maybe (and this was quite the hopeful maybe) it was someone her age who’d gotten to see just a bit of the world, someone who would want to talk to her and be a new friend (the first in twenty years).  Or even more.

That was why, though it was just about midnight and creeping ever closer to her nineteenth hour of being awake this day, she was huddled close to her window and sipping from one of the teas she was allowed to have.  She’d heard the ferry come in (the ancient catamaran was something of a screamer after a long day of travel), and had forced herself upright to wait for her mother to return with their first of the season.

Across the dimly lit courtyard, she saw the gate into the villa’s main environs swing open.  There was her mother, the unmistakable silhouette of her hair and sprinkle of her laugh indicative even from a ways away.  Next to her, was what looked like a man, and probably a young one.  He dwarfed her mother, all willowy limbs and long frame, and she could make out some duck fluff soft curls.  He was carrying quite a few bags and her mother had a few more.  This was no doubt the three month stay.  Though she couldn’t make out much of him, there was something about the line of his shoulders and his skinny little ankles that made her hope he might be rather cute.

“Jus’ a bit tired is all.  Last year or two have been rather long, I s’pose.”  His voice was rich and low, and his accent was easily pegged as British, though she hardly knew which region.  It made something curl in her stomach.  Her curiosity was well and truly piqued.

“Well, we hope you’ll be able to relax here.  I’m excited for you to see the island in the morning.  I remember the first time I saw it-- it was dawn then, and it just about took my breath away.  And my daughter will be around with your breakfast for whenever you list it.  You have us at your disposal, given you’re our first arrival.”

Her mom had taken the route that kept his face in shadow,  and Y/N tried not to flush guiltily as Dee looked knowingly up at the window and wiggled her fingers.  Y/N sighed and rolled over to turn out the light.  It looked like finding out whoever this man was would have to wait until the morning.

[macgyvermedical]

This Year and Beyond- My Year in AmeriCorps NCCC

I will get things done for America.

To make our people safer, smarter, and healthier.

I will bring Americans together to strengthen communities.

Faced with apathy, I will take action.

Faced with conflict, I will seek common ground.

Faced with adversity, I will persevere.

I will carry this commitment with me, this year and beyond.

I am an AmeriCorps Member, and I will GET THINGS DONE!

-The AmeriCorps Pledge

My name is Ross.

I’m a 25 year old Registered Nurse, EMT-B, and Wilderness and Remote First Aid Instructor from northeast Ohio. On January 9th, 2018, approximately 316 days ago, I left my family, my apartment, my job, and very close to all my personal belongings to fly 602 miles to a small town I’d never heard of, with people I’d never met, to do work I didn’t choose, manage people who didn’t like to be managed, learn and grow more than I ever thought possible, make friends I’ll never forget, and become the person I’d always seen myself becoming.

I want to underline the hubris with which I embarked on this journey.

I graduated nursing school less than 2 years prior to entering the program. While there and in my first year as a nurse, I transitioned from female to male, was an RA for 2 years, survived a 3-year abusive relationship and 4 horror-story level roommates, and struggled with picking, hair pulling, compulsive lying, and generalized anxiety.

I thought, nothing could be more difficult than what I’d just gone through. This was going to be a break. I’d go, develop my leadership skill, meet some cool people, serve my country, and come back ready to tackle whatever came next.

Heh. Heheh... it didn’t exactly go like that.

First, some background. If you’ve never been in the AmeriCorps NCCC world before, it’s a pretty foreign place. You hear about military life a lot as part of popular culture, and Peace Corps is at least a household name. But I’d be willing to bet that unless you know someone who’s served, you probably don’t know much about (or possibly haven’t even heard of) the National Civilian Community Corps...

(Note- this is a really long post, something like 5,000 words. But its also pretty cool if you’ve got the time, or are interested in AmeriCorps NCCC. Also, there’s definitely some triggery stuff in here, so you may want to skip it if mental health, suicide mention, and anything along those lines doesn’t sit well with you.)

To avoid some confusion, AmeriCorps and NCCC are not synonymous- AmeriCorps is a larger organization that oversees several different civilian national service programs, including Volunteers in Service to America (VISTA), State and National (which is itself many, many programs), and the National Civilian Community Corps (NCCC, pronounced N-Triple-C).

NCCC is the program I was in. I don’t have proof of this, but having lived it, NCCC is likely one of the most intense domestic national service experiences one can have. It’s often billed as a “team based, residential national service program for young people aged 18-24.” And it is, but that doesn’t really capture the intensity of the experience.

For one thing, when they say the service is “team based” they mean it- Not only do Members work 40+-hour weeks together, but they truly act as a team- you live (sometimes all in the same room) with the team, train with them, eat with them, work out with them, have mandatory meetings, reflections, and team building activities, participate in 1:1 meetings, grocery and other shopping trips, and share one 15-passenger van for all transportation needs.

You live in a residence hall while on campus, but while away on project (called “SPIKE”), housing could be anything- cots in an office building or church basement, a cabin at a summer camp, the classroom floor of a Boys and Girls Club or YMCA, a school gym, a local college residence hall, the semi-completed portion of a house you’re actively building, or basically anywhere vaguely flat and dry enough to put a mat and sleeping bag.

Personal belongings- or, more accurately, space for personal belongings, is also at a premium. For SPIKE, you get a “red bag” with enough space for uniforms, underwear, a couple of sets of personal clothing, toiletries, and your personal protective equipment. You also get your sleeping bag/bedding bag (a space life saver, you can stuff any small belongings that didn’t make it into your red bag in here), and a personal backpack. You’re given a military style duffle (your “green bag”) to store out of season clothing, bedding, and other personal belongings on campus while you’re away. But that’s it. You learn to say no to free stuff pretty quickly.

There’s also TONS of rules, most of which are related to safety or reputation. We like to say “Someone did something stupid 5 years ago, and now we have to wear hard hats while gardening.” It’s funny, but its so close to true, it hurts. In context, it makes sense- NCCC is a government organization, and when you join, the government assumes total responsibility for your wellbeing. They pay for your food, your medical care, your housing, and your transportation.

In return, you do anything that might pose a risk to any of the above on their terms- even if you would never wear safety goggles while painting or make a passenger get out and ground guide you into a parking space at home, you do here, because they’d have to pay for it if you got paint in your eye or ran into a pole, and they reeeeeally don’t want to. NCCC, being a government-funded service organization, also can’t afford to do anything that could jeopardize their funding situation or reputation- so if you’re wearing “the A” (uniform items that have the AmeriCorps logo on them), swearing, drinking, jaywalking, and really any other unwholesome activities are expressly forbidden.

On the more logistical end of things, the 10-11 month “service year” is split into training (a month of team leader training (TLT) and a month of combined corps member and team leader training (Corps Training Institute, or CTI)), and 4 distinct, 6-8 week “Rounds” of (1-2) projects with week-long prep/training segments in between. There’s a week-long midyear break and a long weekend at some other point where you can go home or chill on personal expense, and 3 personal days that can be taken throughout. Otherwise, you’re either on SPIKE working, or at campus training.

Projects can be a lot of different things. Most common projects at my campus were working with environmental groups removing invasive species and building/maintaining trails, working with neighborhood revitalization organizations and police departments improving the look and condition of neighborhood buildings and empty lots, providing supplemental staff at non-profit summer camps, Boys and Girls Clubs, and YMCAs, and building houses for low-income families. Other projects might include tutoring children, general maintenance at non-profit or government facilities, building or maintaining parks or schools, entering data, conducting surveys, mucking and gutting disaster-affected homes, staffing shelters, creating lesson plans, piloting community events, and other tasks organizations need completed, but don’t have the reliable manpower to do themselves.

Before each project, you research the area and work and present a “briefing” to your unit leader, assistant program director, and unit support team leader (team leaders who live and work on campus supporting staff and teams in the field, and who act as a reservoir if field team leaders drop or need to go on extended medical or other leave). When you return from a project, you prepare and present a “debrief” and “portfolio” documenting your work and its impact. The briefings and debriefs take about a half hour each, and portfolios are 12-25 page papers on your project work, which will be used to justify the continued presence of the NCCC.

But just the work is not enough- each corps member has one or more “rep roles” or jobs that support the campus or team. “Official” rep roles include the Project Outreach Liaison (present to and try to get organizations to apply for NCCC teams), Recruiter (present to and try to get people to apply to be members and team leaders), Service Learning Initiator (responsible for facilitating team reflections and secure learning opportunities for the team), Media Rep (coordinates media coverage, writes press releases and articles about projects, creates social media posts), and Yearbook Rep (who creates a yearbook page and/or team video for each Round). “Team” Roles include Assistant Team Leader, PT Coordinator (organizes workout times, places, and activities), Food Point of Contact (creates shopping list, manages food inventory and budget), Cleaning Point of Contact (makes sure housing is ready for weekly inspection), and Team Builder (puts together activities and outings for recreation and team building/bonding).

The program is set up to be an immersive and intense experience. Teams of between 6 and 14 members travel throughout one of 4 assigned regions (Southern, North Central, Southwest, and Pacific) for SPIKE projects. They are led by a team leader, who mentors members, coordinates work assignments and tasks at the job site, does paperwork, responds to emergencies, and pretty much just makes sure all required things get done. Teams are organized into units, which have between 8 and 12 teams. Team leaders report to unit leaders, who remain on campus for the majority of the year.

Okay, so that was maybe a lot of background. But I think it is important to provide that information- unless you read the blogs or know someone, there’s not a ton of depth officially available as to what to expect.

But here’s my reflection on the year-

It started in Team Leader Training. I remember arriving with a lot of expectations. I’d come for the purpose of honing my leadership skills, getting some experience in disaster work (NCCC teams can be pulled off projects to respond to declared emergencies), and taking some time away from being a nurse before I settled down into my forever life. I’d read all the blogs and news articles, corresponded with a unit leader, and talked to people online. I felt I knew everything there was to know about NCCC despite never having met someone in it. I felt so ready.

Team Leader Training was amazing. It was everything I could have ever wanted. I was learning how to do a job I’d fantasized about since I was 17- how to manage members, work with site supervisors and sponsors, coordinate team roles, do necessary paperwork, mediate conflict, drive a 15p van, foster team bonding, balance a budget, etc… It was some of the coolest training I’d ever done. We got up at 5:30 for PT, trained until 5PM, and did homework and hung out in the evenings. By the third and fourth weeks, especially during our training “mini-SPIKE,” tensions among the TLs rose somewhat, but looking back, it wasn’t anything horrible. We were all pretty competent and like-minded people, doing something we loved and creating a network of support that would carry us through the year. I’d never been more comfortable with a group of people in my life. We didn’t get a ton of time off, but it was interesting enough and important enough that we didn’t care.

Then, February 13th, everything changed. Suddenly, where there had been 32 TLs learning to interact with each other, now there were 31 TLs (one went home) and 190 Corps Members. The place was swarming, and each TL was in charge of 8 or 9 CMs they had to mold into something they barely understood themselves. I remember totally flopping on my first meeting with my CMs. I already felt like I was drowning.

We now got up at 5:15 for PT, had “Muster” (morning meeting) at 6:45, trained and conducted trainings/meetings until 5, had team dinners, team meetings, and then were up until 9 or 10 at night submitting daily behavior logs for each member, preparing other paperwork, and preparing for the next day. It was utter and complete chaos. If yours was the team on duty that night, you probably didn’t get to sleep until 1 or 2 in the morning.

Then, suddenly, it was March 9th- departure day. My team, Cedar 2, drove a mere 2 hours to Wapello, IA, but it might as well have been to a foreign country. My campus-based support of other team leaders and staff was suddenly pulled out from under me. My Unit Leader was available by phone, but I struggled hard to find the time to talk to her. The team took the transition to SPIKE life hard, pushing back on the norms and expectations- PT, food shopping, team dinners, team meetings, etc…- as much as possible, making sure I knew how stupid every decision I made and action I took was. I kept it up the best I could, but I quickly became tired and depressed. Every day was a struggle to get people to follow rules, to get them to come to dinner and do their work. They complained, loudly, about everything, said extremely mean things to my face and behind my back.

I remember after a long day of of some pretty scathing 1:1s, sitting in the middle of a field away from my team and sobbing to my mom on the phone and begging her to give me some reason to stay in the program. I was sick with a stomach bug for over a week, and my CMs called me a hypocrite and a lier for taking a few hours out of the day to go to an urgent care. I felt for sure I wouldn’t be able to make it through the year. I began thinking of hurting myself. I contacted an old counselor to see if she did phone sessions. She didn’t, and I didn’t know where else to turn. I thought, hey, If I got caught, maybe I would get kicked out. The idea seemed almost nice.

We started the year with a “split round” project, meaning we spent 3 weeks in Wapello, IA doing trail work, and then 4 weeks in West Branch, MI doing construction at a summer camp. In between, Cedar 2 spent 3 days back on campus, which helped reset the team. We had many meetings with our unit leader, remade our team charter, and came up with a lot of plans to improve our dynamic. I felt like maybe things were looking up, that maybe Wapello would just be that dark time we would look back on and then never speak of again.

When we got to West Branch, things were better, but not good by any stretch. The team had lost a member and had turned somewhat on each other, forming 2 cliques. There was bullying against one of the members that I noticed and felt horrible about, but also powerless to stop. I went almost 2 weeks without more than an hour or two of sleep a night during this project, and my only contact with the outside world was a landline telephone in the (public) camp office and 1 bar of service if I walked to the edge of the parking lot. We had WiFi the first few days, but only rarely after that. We got snowed in for weeks. I got cussed out and screamed at by a CM when I asked him to put on safety glasses while operating a tile saw (I did successfully maintain calm and talk him down, which was a particularly shining moment during this time). I had problems with CMs not doing work that I didn’t know how to address without it becoming a much bigger problem.

I was still kind of a wreck, but I had figured out at least one thing I wanted to do- recruiting for nurses in the US Public Health Service was starting in May, and I couldn’t wait to start that process. By the time I graduated from NCCC in November, I could have a position with them.

It was an interesting project though, and due to our reset, we now did everything exactly by the rules. 3 PTs a week, 3 official team dinners with someone cooking 5 days a week, everyone wore their PPE or suffered the consequences, participated(ish) in team meetings, turned in their weekly reports, and we left with glowing reviews from the sponsor and site supervisor. Attitudes were still objectively bad, they might have hated it, they might have grumbled, but it was an expectation now, and they did it without being overly hellish towards me.

During this project, we also gained a new member who was very competent, polite, but who I couldn’t really read. He’d come from a sister program of NCCC called FEMA Corps (similar in structure to NCCC, but the only projects they do are through the Federal Emergency Management Agency) after failing a background check. I was a little concerned about his integrating into the team, but he seemed okay, and would talk to me at the job site when I talked to him, and actively tried to boost team morale, which was more than anyone else did and something I greatly appreciated.

We went back to Vinton for “1st transition” (the week of training between first and second rounds), presented our debriefs and portfolios, and prepared our briefing. It was the first time I’d seen “Team Green” (the NCCC name for the team leaders collectively in reference to our uniform shirts being green instead of the grey CM shirts) since the end of CTI. Some TLs had had a blast on their first rounds, while others, like me, looked positively gaunt. You could absolutely tell who’d been through hell their first round, and who, like me, hadn’t been able to communicate that until now. We swapped horror stories while training for our next projects, and I finally felt some hope for making it through the year.

The USPHS had unfortunately decided not to open recruiting for nurses after all, but I’d come up with another plan for LAA (Life After AmeriCorps)- I was going to graduate school instead. I had a plan to start applying early in our next round.

Our next SPIKE was a 7-week project in Yankton, SD doing a particularly extensive number of projects. We worked at a Boys and Girls Club, cleaned and packaged artifacts at a museum for a move to a new facility, painted a residence hall and did interior demolition on some bathrooms at a local college, and taught archery classes to children. I felt like a soccer mom, shuttling my CMs from project to project, and trying to spend at least a couple of hours at each site each day. I still dreaded 1:1 days and had to deal with some members’ poor life choices now that they were in a town, but the sun was out, the days were warmer, and due to the nature of the project, everyone was getting quality time away from each other. Thank heavens.

Despite this, I was personally still having some issues. I spent a lot of time hiding from my team after work. It was the only way I could see myself getting through the 7 weeks until midyear. I went for long walks and admired the architecture, hid with my computer watching TV, and leading DnD type medical adventures on Discord. Cedar 2 totally avoided our problems and it was exactly what needed to happen to get us through the round. Nothing got resolved, but people did what they were supposed to do, got great work experience, and no one got (seriously) hurt.

And I got accepted into a program at Kent State for Environmental Health Science! Woot!

And something else was on the horizon. We would return to campus for half of a transition, then enjoy midyear break, then return to… A brand new team! Staff had told us at the beginning of the year that there would be a midyear team switch, but hadn’t told us exactly what that would look like. But finally it had been confirmed. Everyone’s team would be shuffled, and new teams created, with no TL getting any of their former members on their new teams. I was extremely hopeful the next team would be better than the last, and I’d get to use what I’d learned from the first 6 months I’d endured.

The Cedar unit was also disbanding, and Cedar 2 would be absorbed into the Oak unit. When I returned, I would become the TL for the brand new Oak 11.

And holy crap, Oak 11 was awesome. Unique people who said good morning and cleaned up their mess, sat and talked after dinner, wanted to cook for the team (and were great cooks), planned great outings, participated in team meetings and team builders, and were pretty consistent about their work ethic and dedication to the team. Everything wasn’t perfect, but it was so much better than it had been on Cedar 2, and I was thrilled- it wasn’t all me that had screwed it up after all. I’d gotten a team who just brought out the worst in itself.

But I found, to my dismay, that even though the team was great and our project (Erie, PA doing neighborhood revitalization work) and housing and location were all awesome, I was still having problems. Thoughts of self harm were coming back and I was even sliding somewhat into suicidal thinking with graphic intrusive thoughts. I knew the team was working hard and doing what needed done, but I constantly mistrusted them. I would misinterpret situations and respond inappropriately to them, which significantly hindered my ability to lead the team. I leaned heavily on exact execution of the many, many rules of NCCC, but had no energy to enforce them and therefore just felt terrible about my abilities as a leader. I felt I was useless and not at all what the team or anyone deserved to have to deal with. My new unit leader was great, but he wasn’t the touchy feely type and I didn’t think I could get much support from him.

I tried again to contact my counselor, and she agreed to start seeing me over the phone. It was nice to have someone to talk to, even if that meant I had to pace in a public park while talking about very personal things in order to have some privacy from my new CMs, but it also didn’t help a lot. I would hash out the same situations over and over, and my counselor would point out my reactions were exaggerated, and I was convinced she just didn’t understand how intense the program was. After a few sessions, we talked about me quitting the program to get some more intensive help, and about me going on medication. And, if I was going to stay in the program, I had to start checking in with a friend every day, and my mom three times a week.

At this point, I wanted to stay in the program more than anything, and I didn’t want to feel like I was giving up. I had been very against medication from the first time I’d started seeing a counselor 6 years prior, but I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to make it through the last 3 months in the program if nothing changed, and I’d rather do something of my own volition than end up hurt or fired. I ended up taking 2 personal days- the first 2 I’d taken all year- to travel home to Cleveland and see a doctor about the mental health issues and a chance of getting a hysterectomy when I got home in November.

I ended up going on medication. The transition onto it was a little rough, but fortunately I was going into fall break (a long weekend) and then a transition week, and by the time we were on project again (Willow River, MN, doing maintenance at an environmental education center), I felt a lot better. Suddenly, I was functional again. I could lead a team and do what needed done. I still had some issues, but for the first time I was completely confident I would make it to graduation. My CMs noticed the change. I’d decided not to tell them about the mental health stuff in anything but extremely vague terms, or about going on medication, but it made me happy to hear other people noticed how much better I felt, and how much more I could do now that I could trust my perceptions of situations and didn’t feel like crap all the time.

The team went through a couple of hard weeks in the latter half of the project- including one day when every single person on the team asked to take a mental health day on the same day (mental health days are expressly not allowed in the Corps, but you can get around this with creative paperwork). Instead of doing PT that morning, we sat in the living room and talked out some things. It didn’t resolve much, but it did help people feel that they weren’t the only ones having problems. Only one person ended up staying back from work that day, and I looked at it as proof I was getting better- I had looked at a situation and instead of following the rules to the letter, I had bent them in a way that was absolutely helpful to the team.

The project felt like it was at once the fastest and the slowest project we’d done. We drove back to campus with a feeling of finality. This was it. We weren’t prepping for another project. Once we finished these last two weeks, we were going home for real.

A lot of my CMs struggled with that concept. Some had homes to go to, some had homes they wanted to get out of as fast as possible, some were successfully setting up jobs, some were planning to wing it when they got off the plane. Overall, going home would be a change for everyone in the Corps- people who were now very used to the schedule and the rules associated with NCCC life.

The day after I returned to campus I finalized my LAA plans too- my insurance had gone through and I would be having a hysterectomy in December! Woot!

Then it was just the long haul. Closure felt like CTI again except waaaaaay more relaxed. We did a couple of trainings or teambuilding things a day, but usually just hung out or did end of round paperwork and caught up with everyone we hadn’t seen all round.

We had an awards ceremony and a nice graduation that was streamed to Facebook so family living hundreds of miles away could watch. Less than an hour later, we drove our teams to the airport. Oak 11 stopped by a fast food place on the way and had one last team meal together before parting.

When we returned, the campus was empty. As 25 TLs, we scrubbed and returned our vans, and then each got assigned a staff member who put us to work preparing things for the next class.

The night before the TLs left, the night I’m writing this, we went out to the one mexican restaurant in Vinton and hung out for the last time. Some people went out to the bar after, but I hung back and wandered the halls of campus for the last time.

I walked past the gym where Rob Levis led PT at 5:45 on freezing January mornings. I washed my hands in the sink where Silvia shaved my head a few days into TLT. I wandered the classrooms where I’d trained and the kitchens where I’d cooked (and where the vent exploded that one time). I looked at all the rooms I’d stayed in on campus, sat on the couch where I’d stayed up way too late processing my first set of end of round paperwork after Wapello. I stuck my head in the room where I’d done team building for the first time with both of my teams (I didn’t stay long, there was a FEMA Corps team having a meeting). I walked the tunnels, the lounges, said goodbye.

Tomorrow morning at 9am, I will load my green bag and 2 backpacks into a 15 passenger van and ride to the airport. At noon, I will begin the journey back to Ohio.

The year has been so incredibly growth-inducing for me that I don’t know how I ever could have gotten to this point in who I am without it. Like thousands before me, I owe so much to the NCCC.

Even though it sounds corny, I will carry this experience with me, this year and beyond. I am an AmeriCorps Member, and man, did I get things done. 

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[rosalynbair]

Two Names on the Bridge

AO3 | Masterlist | Buy me a coffee

Pairing: Henry Bowers x Fem!reader

Words: 2702

Summary: In the summer heat, you go to visit your boyfriend Henry Bowers, only to become two names written on the bridge and nothing more.

Warnings: a lot of description, mentions of sex, nudity, cheating, how many times can I write “it was fucking hot as hell”

A/N: This was supposed to be a cute lil drabble. But it ended up being over 2.5k words and it’s kinda sad. But y’know. Oh well. Also tagging @henrybcwer bc I mentioned it (also I rewrote it so Henry cheats and not the reader? Oops?) This is also my first ever Henry fic???

Late summer in Derry was hot. There were almost no clouds on most days, with the sweltering heat and no release from it until September. The townspeople grew tired easily under the sun, and most shops were closed by three in the afternoon.

The people you had grown up around had sweat shining on their sunburnt skin, hair often frizzy from the heat and the drought that was overtaking Maine. Everyone had resorted to wearing tank tops and shorts, losing all want or need for the professionalism of uniforms and suits as they prepared themselves for their work days. 

Some days, the main drag of shops wasn’t even opened. The heat and knowledge of it only getting worse throughout the day only deterred anyone from leaving their houses that were barely kept cool with the rundown air conditioners that rested in the windows of their living rooms and bedrooms. The only professional repair man for air conditioners lived out of town and didn’t come in often. Or there was Belch Huggins and Henry Bowers – and despite the want for a cool house to stay in, no one wanted a member of the Bower’s Gang in their house. 

Your air conditioner was barely sputtering along, it made loud clanging noises every half an hour and the constant whirr of the ceiling fans in your house were drowned out by the mechanical issues of the air conditioner that was long overdue to be retired and replaced. 

It was the only reason you didn’t really mind taking the one bus transit system to the outer part of town where the farm houses lay. You were the only one on the old, rattling, loud engined bus. The interior made up of rusty metal and old blue pleather seats that had seen better days. Much like the rest of the town. 

Your bare thighs stuck to the seat from the sweat, inner skin chafing from when you walked to the bus stop barely twenty minutes ago. And although the bus stop was just down the street from your house, the heat had caught up to your body quickly. But even then, there was no way you were going to wear shorts longer than what you had on now. The less fabric the better.

The road around you blurred on the drive, grass a faded yellow as it dried out from the constant attention from the sun. The white paneled houses that passed were tinged a light beige from the flurry of dust the low winds blew through the streets. There was a strange sort of melancholy feel to the town in August. Much different from the flood filled spring that had just passed only two months ago, or the brutal and freezing winter that would soon come after the brief relief of autumn.

The bus slowed at a stop sign, stopping completely – lurching forward slightly. You braced your sandal clad feet on the floor, stopping yourself from falling forward. The bus driver opened the doors for a woman with a basket, her arthritis riddled legs carrying her onto the hot bus. Any hope she had of getting away from the heat was lost as she sat down beside an opened window. 

Her eyes caught yours when she looked around, you give her a small but polite smile that she didn’t return. It didn’t matter any more how much of a good teenager you were, or how helpful you had been to everyone as you grew up. The moment you started dating Henry Bowers, everyone’s perception of you changed. You were no longer a singular entity. You had no defining personality or character. You were simply Henry Bowers’ girlfriend. 

You had somewhat expected it. If hadn’t been that bad when it was just Henry taking an interest in you, his gaze had followed you everywhere for weeks at school before he approached you without his gang of misfits. 

A walk to the theatres. Maybe actually paying for a movie. He had proposed to you, his cheeks rosy and his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans aggressively. Shoulders tight as he stared at you. His cheek held a bruise from a fight earlier in the week, the yellowing stain fading finally. 

A walk would be nice. You had said, you often worked in the office on your off periods to get your volunteer hours, and you knew very well the Henry Bowers was not treated nicely at home and didn’t have disposable money for a stupid movie to impress a girl. 

He had stuck by you after your walk around town, although the date had been quiet and wasn’t ideal to most people, he had tried to make conversation and not live up to his reputation when he was alone with you. Even when you wound up at the kissing bridge and sat on the fence over the river silently as you looked over the rushing waters, it had been nice. Romantic, even. 

He had asked you to go steady with him after a few weeks of sneaking into your room or going on late night walks when being in the house with his dad became too much – though he still had yet to explicitly tell you that Butch Bowers often beat him until he could barely move. Common knowledge was that he just got into fights outside of school. But you weren’t stupid. You knew him well enough, almost as well as Vic or Blech knew him. 

The same week of officially dating, he had carved your names into the bridge in his crude handwriting. It was barely legible, but it was there. It was beside one of Patrick’s carvings that held the name of one of his victims. 

In the few months… almost a year of dating Henry, Patrick hadn’t held a girl for more than a few days. Belch and Vic both had someone for a few months, but it never last. The pressure of being a part of the gang had always been too much in the end. They had known everything you had become to know. They had seen how the people of the town looked at them differently, treated them differently as if they had all become strangers.

The bus slowed down once more, stopping close to the Bowers’ farm. You stand, holding your small purse as your skin peeled away from the seat. You rub the backs of your thighs tenderly before walking to the front of the bus, holding onto the pole in front of the doors as you waited for the bus to fully stop and the doors to open. 

“Have a good day.” You say to the driver and the woman, stepping off of the bus and into the wall of heat.

There was no wind today, only the sun and humid air that attacked your skin and hair immediately. You had braided your hair back to combat the unavoidable frizz that would come to it. And you had lathered your limbs in sunscreen, but even so, your skin reddened under the kiss of the sun.

You began to walk the short way to Henry’s home. Your sweaty feet slipped around in your sandals, the straps digging in with each step. Your loose shirt clung to your body, the thin white fabric becoming partially see-through as the liquid clung and penetrated it.

Your sunglasses didn’t do much to combat the sun – they were more fashionable than practical. Your mom had bought them for you from your last vacation to Tampa over winter break. The leopard pattern had been under scrutiny from Henry since you came home, always making jabs at them when he could. 

The frame was large on your face, covering from your eyebrows to your cheekbones. You often wore them in the Trans AM when you didn’t want to deal with the boys bullying antics and just wanted to melt into the back seat, trying to salvage your reputation as a nice person.

Henry’s home came into view, the old white house standing out against the beige of the farmland around it. You walked up the dirt driveway, kicking out rocks when they got stuck in your sandal. His driveway was long, and you turn off to the right towards the metal shed that had bullet holes pressed into it. 

Henry was never in the house, he was always with the pigs, in the barn, or in the fields. You hadn’t seen any sign of machinery in the fields, meaning he was behind the shed in the pig pen, or hiding up in the lofts of the old barn smoking a pack of stolen cigarettes. 

With a quick walk around the shed and a gentle scratch to Bip and Bop’s heads, you trek through the crispy grass to the faded red barn. The front doors were open, showing off the amounts of hay it had. There had been a horse around when you first started dating Henry, but it had passed away a few months ago from it’s old age. Henry had wanted to get a new one, but that was out of the question with how expensive they were, and Butch didn’t think Henry was worth getting another horse for. 

“Hen?” you ask, softly calling out as you stood at the doors of the barn. 

There was no reply, but you saw the gentle wisps of smoke up in the loft. You walk into the dingy, allergy inducing barn. Hay crunched under you while you walked, making your arrival noisy to anyone who could hear.

The steps up to the loft creaked under your weight, the air somehow growing hotter when you got into the loft. There was a small window that was open, shining light into the converted area. 

There was a small coffee table with a pack of cards and cigarettes. A half full bottle of off brand beer, and a few empty ones. 

An old recliner took up space to the left, and then two ugly, thread-bare couches to the right. The chair and one of the couches were empty.

The dirty blonde mullet haired boy was sprawled out on the other couch, shirtless with his arms resting against the back of the couch, a new bottle of cold beer in one hand. His head was tilted back, hair clinging to his sweaty forehead, his mouth opened to release a blissful moan.

It was a scene you had seen many times, but in all other instances, you had been the one sitting naked on him. You had been the one with your face buried into his neck with the tender skin between your teeth. 

You stood at the top of the stairs for a moment, taking in the intimate scene before you. As if it would somehow vanish like a mirage induced by the humidity and lack of water you had ingested today. After blinking a few times, the brunette was still rocking her hips – rising herself to the head of Henry’s cock and pushing herself back down. It didn’t take long for her lips to be on his, holding his cheeks in her small hands. 

“It appears as if I’ll have to come back another time.” You say coolly, the words tumbling out of your mouth.

A shrill shriek comes from the girl, her hands releasing Henry’s face to cover her chest. Her head whipped around to face you, green eyes wide with horror at someone seeing her nude and in a compromising situation. 

Henry was staring at you with a shocked expression taking hold of his usually stoic features. Your name falls from his lips, something else getting choked up in his throat before it could follow. Your eyebrow raised, and you shook your head.

“I should have guessed this would happen eventually.” You mummer, your eyes trailing to the girl again. She was everything Henry had gone after before he started dating you. Pretty, innocent, nice body. 

Something you had been once too. Before you had met him. “Y/n.” Henry says quietly, looking at you as if he had just come into your room for you to help him but cream on the welts he received from his father. 

He had no right to look at you that way. This was his compromising situation, not yours. But even so, you began to wrack your brain as you turned and walked down the stairs, searching for any indication in your memory that could show that this may have happened more than once, or any sign of why it happened.

Had you not been attentive enough? Did he not like the sex he had with you so much that he had to find someone else? Were you not good enough for Henry Bowers?

You heard fast movement around the loft as you exited the barn, sniffing slightly and blaming your water eyes on the allergens in the barn instead of the feeling of your heart plummeting into your stomach from the pain of dread.

“y/n.” Henry begs as he stumbles his way down the steps, buttoning up his ripped jeans.

You keep walking, back into the humid summer afternoon.

“Don’t ignore me.” He tells you, grabbing onto your wrist when he catches up to you. He tugs on your arm, pulling you closer to him. You spin on your heel, hand coming up to collide with his cheek.

“You’re a bastard.” You hiss, fighting against the tears in your eyes until they were nearly blinding you. “I trusted you. I put my faith in you.”

“I didn’t mean to.” He tells you, his cheek growing red from your hand. His skin was already sunburnt, and there was old skin peeling off his nose. Dust from the farm covered most of his skin, making his tan darker than it already was. 

“If you didn’t mean to, you wouldn’t have done it.” You tell him. “Where’d you pick her up? How old is she?”

“She’s seventeen.” Henry sighs, looking down at his cowboy boots. “She’s new around town.”

“And you thought you’d show her the best Derry had to offer.” You scoff. “Nice.”

“It wasn’t like that.” He snaps, fear crossing his face as he realizes that you were genuinely angry with him. 

“It never is.” You grumble, pulling your wrist away from his grip. 

“So, uh.” Henry says nervously, watching you closely. “What… Wha’ happens now?”

“We become just two names on the bridge.” You say quietly.

He knows what that means. It was a phrase said often in town when couples broke up. Couples who put their names on the bridge rarely last, usually breaking up after a few days or a week after they carve their names +4E onto the old wood that the city counsel swore they would replace once day. 

He saw it in your tear-filled eyes that you were serious. That his one mess up in the entire relationship was going to ruin it. His one mistake, that he thought you would never find out about, was the thing that would break you up. Not the arguments, not moving away to go to college. It was just him being Henry. Henry Bowers living up to his rotten reputation. 

You turn away from him, unable to look at his shell-shocked expression. You leave the barn, walking back towards the road while hoping the bus wouldn’t be too late on it’s next round around the route.

Henry stood at the doorway of the barn, watching you walk away from him for the last time.

You stop by the pig pen, leaning over the old fence to pet the pigs once more. “I’m not coming around anymore.” You tell them softly. “But you’re gonna be okay. Hen will take good care o’ you two.”

You had always had a soft spot for the pigs. You sometimes showed up and spent more time with them than Henry. Or you had often asked to come to his house just to see them. They were like fat dogs. 

With one final word and pet of goodbye, you walk back to the bus stop, leaning against a fence until it came to take you home where you would finally let your tears fall.