#not to be a broken record but that's what your therapist should be there for!

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒

summary: having your period is already stressful enough and being in a magical all-boys school doesn't make it any better; luckily, your boyfriend is here to help

pairings: leona :: jade :: jamil x gn!reader

warnings: period comfort; mentions of periods and different symptoms (but gn pronouns), mentions of reader having hair in jade's part

twisted wonderland masterlist || similar writing: bloody hell [obey me]

𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑

It was decidedly too early for this.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes as you walked through the hallways, head down to keep from making eye contact with the beastmen staring at you as you passed them. After tossing and turning all night, kept from finding sleep by painful cramps, being ogled at by students at an all boys school that could smell the blood on you was the last thing you needed.

And it wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to avoid this. When you had realised the predicament you would inevitably find yourself in, you had downright begged Crowley to let you stay at Ramshackle. After all, a certain Ignihyde dorm leader also never attended class in person. But, really, you should have known better. As if the headmage would let his number one therapist stay home for a few days each month or as he put it, he 'couldn’t rob a precious student like yourself of the opportunity to learn'.

At least Sam was an actual help and had magically procured just the stuff you needed.

So, with heavy eyes and burning cheeks you speed walked towards your first class of the day, dodging students at the last second on more than one occasion until you eventually ran straight into a sturdy chest. Looking up briefly to apologise, you blinked at the familiar emerald eyes sizing you up.

“Leona! What are you doing here?” Most people’s first reaction to seeing their boyfriend would probably not be bewilderment, but running into your boyfriend inside the school during class hours was as likely as Ace making it through a week without being collared by his housewarden.

“That’s funny, ‘cause I was about to ask you the same thing,” the lion drawled, ears flicking to help convey the incredulousness painted on his face. “So, what do you think you’re doing?”

As imposing as he was with his athletic build and the unimpressed expression, causing the students around you to serve around the two of you, you weren’t affected at all, used to his grumpy exterior.

“Uhm, going to class?” You deadpanned, putting your hand on your hip to mirror his stance. “Unlike someone else I know.”

“Yeah, you’re not doing that,” Leona stated matter of factly.

“Excuse you?” When he tried pulling you along by your arm, away from the direction of your classroom, you dug your heels into the ground. “I hate to sound like a broken record but what are you doing, Leona?”

“Making you get some rest, obviously.” You couldn’t see it from where you stood but you could practically hear the way he rolled his eyes. 

“Listen I can’t just skip class, I talked to the headmage–”

“Crowley can solve his own problems for a day,” his voice rumbled low in his throat, almost sounding like a growl, “you know, like an actual adult. And don’t try to play dumb with me herbivore, it’s not a good look on you. I know you sleep like shit when you get your period and I also know that the people around you don’t take your health into account when they get up to some stupid idea.”

“Yeah but-”

You saw the annoyed flick of his tail before he turned around and braced his hands on your shoulders without ever applying any pressure. By now the last bell had rang and the corridor was deserted, leaving you to be the only people standing in the early morning light.

“Don’t give me this self-sacrificial nonsense,” Leona said, words harsh but you knew him well enough to read the protective feeling behind them. “We both know you need to rest. What good would it really do you to go to class in this state?”

As if to agree with him, a nasty cramp pulled at your lower stomach and the ill suppressed grimace on your face must have been all too apparent to your boyfriend. Giving your arm another light tug, Leona coaxed you towards the Hall of Mirrors again with a tempting ‘C’mon’ and this time you let him pull you along willingly, even handing him your backpack when he reached out for it.

Sometimes, it was hard to forget the kind of culture Leona grew up in, one where women held a high position of power in general, so really you shouldn’t be surprised by how… normal he was about all of this. Part of that was probably also because it was a very gentlemanly excuse to skip class in favour of a nap, if you were honest.

“If you’re that worried about missing class, Jack can give you his notes.” His offhand comment made you snort. Of course, he would offer someone else’s service to you before anything else.

“Or my third-year boyfriend could tutor me,” you teased, a playful lilt swinging in your voice.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” the lion shrugged. “Weren’t you just on my case about my attendance record?”

“Because the first-year curriculum is just too hard for someone who can turn an entire stadium into dust,” you jabbed.

“You’re yapping a lot for someone who’s this tired,” Leona grumbled, a large palm pushing your head down, careful not to hurt you. With a giggle you decided to drop the topic. 

Crossing the Hall of Mirrors and stepping through the Savanclaw portal, you were greeted by the  warm breeze of dry air typical for the dorm’s daytime. After the trek through the savanna past the spring in the common room and across the wooden bridges, you reached Leona’s room and you could already feel the tension seep from your body as you stepped into its comfortable familiarity. 

When you unbuttoned your uniform’s blazer, you caught a glimpse of your stomach through your shirt, slightly extended further than usual due to the bloating. And rationally you knew it was a normal bodily reaction to your period but paired with the new bumps on your face and general exhaustion, logic wasn’t quite enough to calm your mind.

The clothes being plopped down on your head, however, certainly did rip you from your thoughts. Lifting the ends of the black material covering your eyes you threw your boyfriend a questioning glare.

“I can tell you’re thinking something stupid,” Leona offered as an explanation. “Just get changed and come to bed.”

Huffing under your breath, you stepped into his ensuite bathroom to do as he said, pulling on your boyfriend’s shirt and sweatpants. While you didn’t feel like agreeing with him quite yet, you had to admit, royal loungewear was a league of its own in comfort. And probably in price.

When you emerged, Leona had just tossed his phone on the nightstand before devoting all his attention to you. The ears on his head flicked as his gaze wandered from your head to toe and back up, a grin tugging at his lips and an appreciative glint in his green eyes. 

Then, the second you came within reach, he’d already wrapped you in his strong arms and pulled you into bed with him, not without a surprised squeal from you. You could feel his deep chuckle as much as you heard it with your head resting on his chest and resigned yourself to merely sighing fondly. 

With two firm hands stroking up and down the length of your back purposefully, their warmth spreading through your body, and his chest rising rhythmically underneath you, you finally allowed yourself to relax as you traced random patterns onto his biceps and pectorals and followed the movement with heavy-lidded eyes.

“You weren’t seriously looking down on yourself earlier, were you?” Leona mumbled, a serious care in his words he didn’t offer many people. 

“Well, you can’t really help it when your body goes through this many changes, can you?” you drowsily replied, your eyes already falling closed with no conscious work of your own. “Besides, periods are not the time you feel generally great about yourself.”

“No matter how you might see yourself, I don’t want you to doubt for even a second that I like you the way you are.” At his heartfelt confession, you peeked one eye open to study his expression.

“You can be quite the romantic if you want to huh?” You meekly chuckled, not able to help yourself.

“Go to sleep, herbivore, you’re talking crazy.” Even as he put one of his hands on the back of your head to keep you cradled against him, you didn’t miss how his ears flicked or the fondness with which he looked down on you.

“Alright, alright. I appreciate it though, really.” With a big yawn you shifted to get comfortable, your cramps far from your mind as you sunk into your boyfriend’s natural warmth. “Love you.”

By the time you’d wake up, Ruggie would have dropped off lunch along with some other essential items. But for now, Leona was content to watch as your breath evened out and your chest rose and fell in the rhythm of his own, careful not to disturb you when he draped a soft blanket over you. With the rising sun peeking through the arches of his room, he truthfully answered you in a whisper. 

“Love you, too.”

𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐂𝐇

Once Jade had taken an interest in you, he would seemingly appear out of thin air in your general vicinity a lot more often than it was usual to run into a fellow student. On your way to the school store, in line at the cafeteria or when you were carrying supplies for Professor Crewel, the moray would coincidentally round a corner to lend a hand.

So it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise that, as his courting became more serious and you had become aware of what was going on, even reciprocating the sentiment, you found the sophomore waiting for you before your classes started. Your time table was well-memorised so he could greet you with a serene smile each day and walk you to your first class of the morning.

Now, as a moray eel with naturally sharp senses, it was somewhat inevitable he’d pick up on the scent of blood once your period rolled around. In contrast to beastmen who were mostly mammals in their anatomy, however, the Octatrio did not grow up on land and periods weren’t exactly a thing for merfolk. Moreover, seeing as they had only been on land for roughly two years and were attending an all-boys school, it was not a phenomenon they were likely to run into.

So, having his dear pearl approach one morning, the smell of iron heavy in the air, paired with their already soured mood and his lack of knowledge on the societal stigma around the topic, misunderstandings were bound to happen.

“I really don’t think it wise to attend class in your state,” the moray had stated after greeting you, an eyebrow raised at your stubbornness to continue with your day even at what, in his mind, must have been a grave injury. 

“I’m fine, Jade, I just want to get this day over with,” you had groaned, trying to push past the tall student and drop the topic, embarrassed enough that a sizable chunk of the student body would be aware of your predicament in the first place.

But who would he be to let a person he actually cared about go on their way with a bleeding wound? 

“Prefect, I must insist you seek medical aid immediately.” You remembered the uncharacteristically genuine furrow of his brows as he had blocked your path. “Please, go to the school nurse or at least let me tend to your needs. I’m certain I could be of help if you share your problem with me.”

“If you want to hear me say it so desperately,” you had huffed, “I’m on my period. Happy now?”

“Your period?” Jade had echoed with wide eyes, unknowingly speeding up the burning of your shortened fuse with his lack of knowledge. “Yes, I’m aware we are to attend class but I fail to see–”

“Very funny,” you had deadpanned, pushing past him with a cold shoulder and leaving the moray to his own confusion. “Now if you excuse me, I have better things to do than stand here and humour your feigned ignorance today.”

Yes it wasn’t your proudest moment, you’d admit that. And when Jade approached you later that day with a genuine apology, explaining how he had researched the topic and was deeply ashamed of his uninformed remarks, you felt like the worst person on the planet and apologised more than he had. So in the end, you came to an apology truce, where you noted he shouldn’t have prodded further when you didn’t want to talk about it and you shouldn’t have exploded on him like you did.

Since the incident, however, Jade had been a dream to have around. Not to fall short again, he had done a fair amount of research, both on the biological aspect of what was happening to your body but also on the lived experience and its numerous complications. Then, doing what he did best, he observed your reactions, moods and symptoms to better cater to you specifically.

Every month he put both his cooking and alchemy skills to good use, whipping up whatever meal you desired and brewing a painkilling potion with just the right dosage for your current situation. Being Jade Leech, he could also assert his presence in any given situation with as little as a simple glare if you did not want to be bothered.

Your favourite part of the comfortable rhythm you two had fallen in, however, were the evenings where Grim was otherwise engaged and you had Ramshackle to yourselves. On those nights, soft music and fond laughter would mix with hushed whispers spilling from under your bathroom door.

A few months prior, Azul and Jade had sat down for a ‘pleasant chat’ with the Headmaster concerning the state of Ramshackle dorm and soon thereafter, funding had been provided to remodel vital parts of the dorm. No more caved-in roofs or stairs giving away under people’s shoes. Together with the money from the VDC, the old house had finally started feeling like an actual home; one you felt welcome and comfortable in.

It also meant you finally trusted your new bathtub enough to sit in it and actually also relax without any anxieties of whatever you could possibly contract from the exposure. 

With his natural fondness of water, it hadn’t taken long for Jade to propose the idea of shared baths and you hadn’t regretted your decision to agree since. It wasn’t like he gave you any reason to either; it was the opposite, really. It didn’t take the moray long at all to figure out the perfect temperature or what fragrance you preferred, if any. 

He also never made you feel inadequate or like you had to be ashamed of yourself, even when your body went through change throughout your cycle. Your skin tingled from his featherlight touches where his fingers traced your curves, never hiding the fact that he appreciated what he saw but always pairing it with a reverence that made you feel loved and desired, rather than ogled at. So when you sank into the water after him, cosying into his space to lean back against his chest, it was like sinking into a warm, secure embrace.

The water helped soothe your aches and washed away the tension which had built over the day and the easily flowing conversation with Jade let you focus on anything other than the thoughts in your mind, listening to his rich voice rather than the doubts trying to crawl to the surface.

When his hands massaged the shampoo into your hair, you always teetered on the edge of falling asleep right then and there. The atmosphere paired with his skilled fingers applying just the right amount of pressure as his nails gently scraped over your scalp banished any headaches you could have had and had you practically melting against him, a sight that tugged on his heartstrings more than it should have. But to see you put so much trust in him, someone who wasn’t exactly known for his benevolence, it stirred something fond in his heart and it made him want to work harder so you would keep showing him this blissful expression.

After scrubbing your bodies down, paying special attention to any sore spots, he helped you out of the tub, never failing to comment on how wrinkly your hands had gotten in comparison to his, which didn’t seem to be affected by the water exposure at all. Wrapping you up in a fluffy black towel he claimed was from Octavinelle -though you were fairly certain you’d only ever seen pale lilac ones there- he padded you dry and helped you into your clothes, mindful of the routines and products you had shown him previously. 

Needless to say, you felt like a new person each time without fail as you lay snuggled up with your boyfriend in bed later on, listening to his breathing and the steady beating of his heart. 

“Thank you so much for always doing this much for me, Jade,” you said, earnest gratitude and unspoken adoration lining your voice. “I’m really lucky to be with you, huh?”

“On the contrary, I am the one luck seems to favour seeing how you chose to be with me,” he chuckled and you didn’t miss how his strong arms pulled you closer against him even if it wasn’t physically possible. He’d be damned if he didn’t try. “And you needn’t feel conflicted about receiving my affection. Just know I enjoy doing these things for you and with you, pearl.” 

“I stand by my earlier statement,” you smiled, making him laugh along with you. Looking into his heterochromic eyes, you traced the contours of his face with the same delicacy he showed you earlier. “Is it selfish to say that I feel happy about having this side of you all to myself?”

“Not at all. It is reserved for you only, dearest.” His gaze was heavy on yours as he loosely curled his fingers around your wrist and pressed a searing kiss against your palm. “After all, I do not intend to share this side of you with anyone else either.”

𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋 𝐕𝐈𝐏𝐄𝐑

There have certainly been times where Jamil lamented having to basically babysit his dorm leader. Well, pretty much all the time. But being unable to stay by your side while you were hurting was generally one of the most annoying parts of his duties to him, especially with the daily workload of being a student on top of it all. 

Jamil being Jamil, however, he soon worked out a schedule consistent enough to let him visit you somewhat frequently. 

You were lying on one of Ramshackle’s rickety couches, nursing your lower stomach with a -at this point already lukewarm- water bottle, when a familiar knocking pattern brought a smile to your face.

“Come in! It’s open,” you shouted across the hall, adding your sarcastic comment under your breath in order not to worry your boyfriend more than he already was. “Not like the lock’s ever doing its job in this place.”

“Hm? Did you say something?” Jamil made his way straight over to where you were sitting, his footsteps quieting down as he reached the carpeted floor.

“No,” you shook your head, smiling up at him as he leant over the back of the couch. Ignoring his raised eyebrow, you reached up, so you could cradle his cheek as you sat up to meet him for a sweet kiss. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” Seemingly appeased, your boyfriend mirrored your fond expression, tracing your face with his grey gaze while his hands moved to your shoulders, deft fingers working out any tension you might be having. “How are you feeling?”

“A lot better now that you’re here,” you laughed, though it wasn’t merely a sappy joke, as indicated by Jamil’s scoff behind you. “I mean it though. I’ve been feeling a lot better since I’ve been receiving your royal treatment.”

“It’s nothing that fancy,” Jamil assured, his eyes softening at the way you melted into his touch. “I’m just trying to take care of you.”

“I know you don’t think much of it but I really appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedule to look after me when I’m not even facing anything out of the ordinary,” you sighed, rehashing points you had raised in vain before.

“Oh hush,” your boyfriend playfully shushed you the way he had also done many times already when the topic came up. “Compared to what I usually deal with, this is like taking a vacation, especially since I get to spend time with you. Now speaking of my normal chores, I brought some leftover food.”

“Have I told you that I love you?” You swooned, causing both of you to laugh as Jamil headed over to your kitchen, one he was already familiar with. Not only because he often came over for some much needed peace and quiet but because Kalim was literally the reason you had it in the first place. A relationship-warming-gift of sorts for a relationship that wasn’t even his.

Besides, ever since courting and dating you, Jamil’s measuring skills when it came to meal prep seemed to have worsened because -coincidentally- he’d ended up with too much food and subsequent leftovers so often, you wondered why you even stocked your own fridge anymore.

What you had also noticed though was that, whenever you were on your period -something he seemed to track himself-, the food he brought over was a lot less spicy than usual and rather light. Something someone prone to a sensitive stomach, nausea, reduced appetite or a disturbed metabolism could still comfortably eat. 

The phenomenon of suddenly appearing sticky notes had also made itself known, labelling new containers in your fridge, medication on the counter or your coffee machine with reminders like ‘Remember caffeine makes your cramps worse’ written on it in neat handwriting. 

One or the other bar of dark chocolate and some of your favourite snacks had mysteriously found their way into your bags or onto a bowl in your kitchen as well though, making you smile at Jamil’s thoughtfulness when you caught a peek of them. 

During the day, whenever his schedule allowed it, he’d also drop by to check in on you between classes or during lunch, something Kalim wholeheartedly supported. Normally, Jamil refused all of Kalim’s offers to take a break from his duty but when you were feeling under the weather, he took the white-haired student up on it when no imminent disaster was on the horizon waiting to happen.

When your plate was empty and made its trip to the sink, Jamil refilled your hot water bottle but unlike you earlier, he waved his magic pen over it, which you had realised significantly expanded the time in which the water actually stayed hot.

“Thank you,” you said for possibly the millionth time as you took the bottle from him, then gave him a mischievous grin. “You know what would make me feel soo much better though?”

At the tilt of his head, you scooted over to make space between you and the back of the couch. Getting the hint, Jamil settled in behind you and you got comfy again with your back to his chest. This too had become somewhat of a ritual of yours, one that wasn’t limited to while you were suffering from cramps. 

After all the chore-y part of the late afternoon was taken care of, you liked to spend the evening snuggled up on your couch with the TV playing some show you liked to watch together, read: a show which you started and dragged Jamil into. Well, every now and then your boyfriend also made sure you didn’t fall behind on your studies, though he was more lenient when you were on your period.

“This is nice,” you mumbled, your eyelids heavy now that you had eaten and were surrounded by warmth and your loving boyfriend, whose hands stroked along your sides in a soothing, continuous motion, his chest vibrating underneath you with his affirming hum. 

“I could stay like that forever,” he agreed.

“Well I certainly wouldn’t mind.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t.” The smile in his voice was auditory even if you couldn’t see his gorgeous face. You could, however, feel his soft lips on the crown of your head and his breath fanning over it and you reached to intertwine one of your hands with his before a yawn you couldn’t suppress any longer filled the air. “You should get some rest, I’m sure you’re tired.”

“But I wanna stay with you longer,” you protested, sleep clouding your tone. 

“Don’t worry, I will be here when you wake up,” Jamil promised. And with that you drifted off, the warmth from around you settling cosily around your heart. A heart that wasn’t really yours alone anymore.

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[atyourmerci]

Ethical dilemma

Therapist!ellie (read part 2 here)

CW: smut, MDNI, dom!ellie, bratsub!reader, sexual tension is fuckin palpable, blindfold, hypnosis, walked through orgasm, talks of masturbation, mutual pining but there’s laws oh no!, no y/n, no pdor

A/N: I fear this is so self-indulgent I will not be elaborating

X

“Highly unethical,” the auburn haired woman gives a small laugh, standing from her seat to walk you out as she always did. You’d asked about the details of the girl you see in her waiting room after you every Thursday. Dr. Williams was not privy to your sexual endeavors that came from her own hands…well her office for this manner.

She was a good therapist, best you’d ever had truly. Sure she understood all the lesbian lingo, formalities and functions that didn’t need to be gaysplaned to an unfortunate witness. But it felt as if she truly understood you, had a true knack to play out your actions before you ever thought of them. It was her job to fix your fuckups, not predict them.

She felt it, when you changed. How much thicker the air got, how she could slice it with her knife. The way your body expanded in her chair shifted, opening your chest for sight. Your gaze started to only focus on her, directed, pointed even, letting your lips open. When you started drawling out moments of your sexual endeavors down to every touch, how you tried to read her as she read you. You tried to make her crack, see any sense of appeal, to which she responded akin to a brick fucking wall.

Hell she knew your ‘new hookup’ was a sham, you were just dying to plead to her how unsatisfied ‘she’ left you. She knew the person you were, she knew you best after all, didn’t she now? You’d never stay, and she clocked it.

But she played your game, nodding along, letting you babble about all the times you had to finish yourself off afterwards.

She’d let herself have that, the pleasure of thought, the images of your panting breath, dry fingers, and cracked lips. In another life she’d agree to help you out, fix your ache. But Ellie was an ethical woman, level-headed, and morally sound, this was not her circus to corral.

She’d just remind you to focus on yourself, in whatever form that came.

‘Tell me to fuck myself’ you’d pray in your mind, begging for a mere innuendo from her, anything to use for later. You wished she’d talk you through it, and she would, in another life.

The entire time you’re rambling on she’d think of the ways she would walk you through it, praising you for how good you were doing, how beautiful you looked messy and broken down just for her. But a respected woman has limitations, rules, structures built exiling that from her will, “is there a reason you keep going back to her? Even though you don’t feel satisfied?”

“I need it,” you remark frankly, desire white hot that ate away at your skin like a bad infection.

“You need sex?” Ellie questions, her eyes forming into a squint as her head cocks. She cant seem to write this down, engulfed by your blatant admission.

“Don’t we all doctor…don’t you?” came out utterly direct, shifting your weight to your forearms that now rested on your thighs that allowed your blouse to reveal the peaks of your breasts. Maybe you were trying to intimidate her, and maybe it worked.

“This isn’t about me,” she said, but not what she thought, and you clocked it. The way her teeth drew in her bottom lip, the furrow of her brows, busying her gaze down to her blank paper. Never mustering up a reason to record your sessions, what was she to say? Lines blurring to an extent that shouldn’t allow you to still be here.

“But isn’t it?” you dart back, a grin easing up your lips, equally as maniacal as it was sensual. A pleading request for her to sink her teeth into, to rip the flesh from bone.

She should have asked you to never return, refer you to another doctor. Suddenly so aware of her surroundings, breaking herself from your delusions, “thats time, I’ll walk you out,” but she couldn’t, giving you a pitied smile, standing from her chair.

-

“Id like to try something new today,” Ellie says, an air of hesitancy rings through your ears.

“You going to reveal the skeletons in your closet Doctor?” You say in a teasing manner, crossing your legs in your usual spot, but Ellie remained standing.

A glimmer of a smirk forming on her lips, “have you heard of hypnotherapy?”

“First a doctor, now a magician what a pay drop,” you snide.

“Do you trust me?”

She had you lie on her couch, uncharted territory, too spacious for comfort, for rules and barriers, “now close your eyes for me,” Ellie remarks, seated on top of the coffee table, inches from the couch.

“what if I cant keep them closed, will I fuck up the juju?” you say peeping at her with one eye.

“I have a bandana-“ knowing you’ll cut in with your sexual advances she cuts off your process, “-for hypnosis, would you like that?”

You tie the black cloth around your eyes, cutting off the essential sense, suddenly so aware of your body. Feeling the tips of your fingers, the race of your heart, beating the blood to your veins.

“Tell me what you see,” the doctor pries, watching your open mouth, the way it releases at her words. The steady rise and fall of your chest, the control she had over your undirected weight.

“its just me.”

“Where are you?”

“I- I don’t know, it’s white everywhere,” Your senses so heightened, feeling the breath as it escapes your throat.

“What are you feeling,” Ellie says palming her hands, eager to break you down. The desire the scale the walls of your mind.

“Frustrated,” your breath beginning to shorten, that eery feeling creeping back into your bones.

“what else?”

“it hurts- hurts so bad” the burning to be satiated, body still yet so charged.

“Whats making it hurt?” Ellie could help, ease your killing wounds. Would she, or would she watch as you wilt like a flower in the beating sun?

“I cant fix it, it wont stop,” you pant out, sweat dripping down the valley of your chest.

“Are you touching yourself?” she leaps, walking the tight rope as a foot slips.

“yes-yes,” your mouth agape, fists balling into a white grip at your sides.

“You need to finish, don’t you?” she revels in your pain, the unstilted need.

“I need you,” you corrupt, breaking the thin layer of morals that stood between you and your desires.

“Im there with you, aren’t I always?” she taunts, voiding herself of her principles. Allowing herself to play into her horrors, you were merely a symbol of prey.

“Please-“ you breathe out, on the cusp of release at the expense of her mercy. Blood running hot as your cunt pulses untouched.

Bringing her mouth to the edge of your face, you feel her breathe through your body, breaking through your flesh.

Ever so softly, “let me satisfy you.”

#ellie tlou2 #ellie x reader smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams smut #ellie #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie smut #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie x you #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie willams x reader #tlou x reader #tlou part 2 #tlou smut #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou2

[imaginebetterfutures]

I'm back with another sculpture! To be completely honest, this one was a real struggle for me to work out, idea wise. I love working abstractly (see earlier pieces!) but for this one our prompt in class was "objects and identity." We were asked to cast an object from life, and use it to speak to some aspect of ourselves that we want to explore. Not only am I an extremely closed book (pour one out for my therapist) but I'm also really not that interested in replicating objects?

So... I sort of cheated. This isn't *really* a cast of VHS tapes (although I did try to do that, and it failed miserably) but I'm still pleased with the outcome. Sound on for what I think is the best part — the pleasing and/or sinister snick snick snick sound of the tape unspooling and piling up.

If you like long, corny artist statements, boy howdy do I have one for you!

~~ GEODE ~~

My day job is as a journalist, and while I find a lot of the posturing that journalists do about our role as storytellers to be pretentious and often egotistical, I also can't deny that I got into this because I love to see into people's lives. Why do people do what they do? Why do we make the choices we make? How did we get here, as individuals and as a collective?

Much of journalism is about the big moments — wars and chaos and game changing plays. But those don't come out of nowhere. They come from a history, both personal and communal. We are products of our childhoods, our cultures, our teachers, our parents. We come from places that have smells and sounds and textures. And we document those things — and here I don't mean "we" journalists, I mean "we" as people. Humans have, for our entire history, recorded ourselves in one way or another. We write on walls, we tell each other stories, we come up with words that have deep meanings that stretch back into time.

Some journalists see their job as speaking truth to power. Or telling the important stories in the face of chaos and misinformation. Or staking a claim to truth, and defending it. All of that is true, of course. But when I think about my job I don't think about those things. I think about excavation. About telling the story in such a way that you can feel the texture of the people in it. I think of stories like geodes.

Do you know how a geode forms? They start with a volcanic eruption. Lava flows from a hot, angry vent, and mixes with the gases in the air. Most of the time, those gases don't stay put — they escape into the air and go off to become the wind in your hair, or carry pollen, or sweep under a bird's wing. But sometimes, bubbles of gas can't escape the boiling weight of the lava and become trapped. As the lava cools, those bubbles remain. It is only then — held tight and encased in cooling rock — that the crystals characteristic of geodes form.

There is something sad about opening a geode. It can reveal a great beauty, but it is also inherently destructive. You are taking a hammer to something hard and protected and asking it to open, to be seen, to be commented on. Not all geodes want to open. Not all geodes should be opened, perhaps. Not all geodes are beautiful inside. How do you know when to break one, and when to leave it be?

Once you break a geode, you open the crystals up to damage. UV light can bleach the colors inside and the oils on your skin can slowly eat away at the glittering growths.

I think a lot, as a journalist, about the stories that we lose when people die. The small things that they knew — the color of a lover's hair, the name of their neighborhood dog, the true identity of a soldier — that go to the ground with them. I have to stop myself from buying home movies when I see them at garage sales and thrift shops — each one, to me, a geode. Inside they might contain nothing, or everything. Wrapped tight in metallic film they recorded things people thought were important, things people wanted to remember. Trapped in plastic and now, broken open.

My piece is a VHS geode. I have broken it, and it is unspooling, and we are forgetting. It is beautiful and terrible all at once.

#sculpture #moving sculpture #kinetic sculpture #plaster #plaster casting #VHS #geode #cheesy artist statements #art class #art

[ggomos-maribat]

Soul-Stitching: The Heir and the Guardian

Masterlist

Chapter 7: an end and a beginning | AO3

Clark nearly spits out his coffee when he sees a face hovering outside the Watchtower. At first, he thinks of it as a figment of his imagination, brought on by the stress of the current crisis the Justice League is facing. But the longer he looks, the more permanent the figure seems: Chat Noir himself motioning for him to open the nearby hatch. 

And he does, while pinging a message to the rest of the members on board. 

The first thing he notices is that he can't detect the hero's heartbeat with the suit. His X-ray vision doesn't work either. 

The second thing he notices is the similarities between the beaming Chat Noir in front of him and wannabe defense attorney Adrien Agreste are so striking, now that they have ID'd the former Parisian heroes. 

“Um—” 

Before Clark can gather his words, Chat Noir thrusts a box into his hands—a smoothly-wrapped package complete with the Ladybug spot pattern and a black ribbon around it lined with neon cat paws. “What is . . .?” 

“Marinette's clear of charges, right?” Chat asks, the grin not faltering on his face. 

“Of course she is,” Clark clears his throat. He picks up on a handful of League members standing just outside the door of the room they're in, perhaps unwilling to disturb the both of them. “We're collating the evidence right now and we'll send them soon to the Parisian government. Since we can't expose her identity, we're building an alibi for her as Ladybug's aide, which should explain why she was tight-lipped during the trial.” 

“Right, okay.” Chat points to the box. “We decided to make your jobs easier and send you these. They're all the records, written evidence, and photos pointing to the real identity of Hawkmoth.” 

Clark gawks at him. 

“Ladybug's only condition is that you don't reveal this to the public.” Chat scratches the back of his head. “Her worry is that people might start blaming those associated with his civilian identity, even if he was working alone most of the time.” 

“This—this is—” 

“Oh, and I'm not sure how you can punish him on your own ‘cause he's in a coma right now.” 

“Huh?” Clark mentally kicks himself at his lack of words, but this seemingly cheerful boy just has no filter. 

“Yeah, it sucks. In the final battle, I managed to Cataclysm the actual Butterfly miraculous but then he used it—there are serious consequences if you use a broken miraculous by the way—and then bam. Coma,” the Parisian hero narrates, “We're keeping an eye on him right now but I don't think he's waking up soon. I guess that's his punishment in itself?” 

“So . . . this Hawkmoth. Who was he?” 

Chat pauses. “Do you know Gabriel Agreste?” 

“. . .” 

Clark stares at him.

“. . .” 

Chat Noir stares back. 

“But that's your father!” Clark suddenly exclaims in horror. 

“I know right?! It's such a small world!” 

Clark doesn't know what to feel. He's seen this before; too often in fact, in Bruce's many children—little bunches of young pent-up trauma masked with lighthearted humor and smiles. He now has half the mind to fly this boy to the nearest therapist. 

“Well, if you don't have any more questions, I'll be off!” Chat looks around at the interior design of the Watchtower. “Cool satellite base by the way! I've been wanting to see inside since forever. We only have rocks and broken domes in our base.” 

In the blink of an eye—before Clark can think of an excuse to make him stay—he opens up the hatch and flies out into space. 

---

Damian steps out into the ruined temple, with Marinette closing the portal behind him. In the daylight, the place looks much friendlier, potentially a historical artwork even if it is half-destroyed. He did not expect to return so soon, but Marinette suddenly visited him in his bedroom, saying that she and the team will be moving soon. She wants to talk one more time as well, since they didn’t have much of the opportunity during the attack. 

“What will you do now?” Damian eyes the boxes piled up against the curved wall. 

Marinette smiles and stretches her arms. “Now that I’m a free woman?” 

“You didn’t do anything wrong in the first place.” 

“Killing isn’t wrong?” 

“Marinette,” Damian sighs. 

“Just teasing.” She smirks. “We’ll be around, don’t worry. There are still links to the Order everywhere.” 

“They’re not completely wiped out?” 

“You’ll be surprised.” Marinette shakes her head. “It’s a network almost as big as the League of Assassins. They’re not all monks—there are miraculous-adjacent dealers, collectors. All sorts of people. We’ll be infiltrating and destroying the adjacents.” 

Damian figures it’s a problem the Justice League can look into too, but she assures him that it’s her responsibility to deal with and she’ll be using her powers for miraculous-related attacks only. He knows the JL  is looking to recruit her but they’ll have to be utterly shameless to ask that of her. Fortunately, the heroes are giving their attention to Paris’ rehabilitation instead. 

“They haven’t given a formal apology to you yet.” He crosses his arms. “Father will be given my cold shoulder for an entire month for that.” 

“That’s because I haven’t responded to their calls,” she laughs. “They can say sorry when they see me by chance but I think they’ve learned their lesson.” 

He remembers the JL facing public backlash about imprisoning an innocent when they finally publicized the (half-true) evidence supporting Marinette as an aide and not a villain. He hasn’t seen his father that overwhelmed by guilt, not to mention the other Justice League members. Barbara even reported once that even Constantine is looking for a talisman to guard himself from miraculous magic (which Adrien and Marinette found absolutely hilarious when the news reached them). 

“Tt. They have not.” 

“How stubborn, habibi.” 

Damian feels his cheeks go warm. 

He clears his throat. “Will you keep in contact while you’re away?” 

“Of course! I can give you my number. Your phone?” She holds out her hand. 

He stares at her dumbfoundedly before digging through his pocket to lend her his phone. Marinette chuckles while typing. “What? You think we won’t use phones while traveling the world?” 

“N—no . . . I just thought it would have been confiscated when you were arrested.” 

“It did, but Kagami and Luka kindly stole it back for me when I was in prison.” She gives back his phone. “It does have classified information after all.” 

While Damian tries to control his grin at having her number (which none of his siblings nor Barbara probably have!) he’s suddenly enveloped in a tight hug. He freezes, but instinctively places his hands on her waist. 

“You’ve come so far, Damian, I’m happy for you,” she whispers against the crook of his neck. “Thank you for trusting me again.” 

“I thought you were gone.” 

“I know. I’m sorry. ” Her grip tightens. “I’ll stay this time. I promise.”

←Previous Chapter

That wraps up Soul-Stitching! Thanks so much for reading this fic <3 I know there are plot points I didn't get to address in the story, but in case you were wondering: 1. How did Fu get the Miraculi, and later on give the jewels to Marinette and Adrien? Marinette was able to destroy the Order, but not all of them so some had escaped with the real miraculi and a whole stock of adjacents. They reestablished a stronghold elsewhere, the whole Feast thing still happened, but Fu didn't know about the Guardian well enough and unknowingly gave the earrings to Marinette (later on proclaiming her as guardian, as with canon). However, the Peacock and Butterfly were pawned off to Gabey beforehand, and therefore were already missing from the box before Fu had them. 2. If Marinette was so powerful as the Guardian, why did it still take years to find Hawkmoth? Marinette's powerful, but she didn't have full knowledge or control over all the powers yet. Plus, a real miraculous' power is on par with hers, so it was still hard to defeat HM despite that. If I missed anything else (nope, you didn't see that!) , please feel free to ask in the comments.

Taglist: @noisydreamlandkoala

#tw child abuse #tw suicide #maribat fanfic #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #maribat #maribat fic #daminette #marinette dupain cheng x damian wayne #tw blood #ggomoz #maribat damian wayne #maribat marinette dupain cheng #SS:H&G

[fandom-imagines-stories]

How Do You Know It's Worth It?

Season Two Episode Eight

Dr. Spencer Reid x Reader (Aaron Hotchner’s Sister)

Words: 4031

Series Masterlist

Summary: While the reader works on returning to the more intense part of her job, Spencer struggles with the break and their current case. Aaron faces a fight of his own. 

Notes: This is another episode where I had planned to have more of the actual episode worked in, but I’m happy with how it turned out this way. It does jump around (surprise surprise) so just be aware of that. And I finally get to introduce the plot of The Reaper, which is such a great one in the show. However, that means we all know what’s coming… (And yes, I am making a Bones crossover. He may or may not make an appearance, along with anyone else from the show. I don’t care if it’s cliche, I’m excited)

-

Five Months Later

The crying shouts echoed down the hall. Tired eyes peered into the dark, a nightmare fading slowly into reality. With a few steps towards the sound, terrified words grew clearer. 

“Take… the… deal.” The voice was broken and desperate. “Take the deal.” 

You turned on a lamp in the living room and found his shaking form on the couch. He was still wearing his work clothes, his tie loosened around his neck. 

“I could have stopped him.” 

“Aaron?” 

His head jerked at the sound, but his eyes remained screwed shut. “Stop hunting me, I’ll stop hunting them. Stop hunting me, I’ll stop hunting them.” 

You let out a low sigh. It wasn’t the first time you’d woken up to those words. 

You knelt beside the couch and put a hand on his arm. “Aaron, wake up.” 

“He escaped… Foyet… hunt…” 

“He isn’t here.” You shook his arm gently. “Aaron, The Reaper isn’t here. You’re home. Wake up.” His shoulders thrashed. You shook harder and raised your voice. “Wake up.” 

He shot up so fast he almost hit you. His arm yanked away from your hand, propelling you backward into the coffee table. Papers scattered to the floor. 

“Foyet,” he breathed, his chest heaving. 

You sat up. “It was just a nightmare, Aaron. You’re home.” 

His dark eyes found yours and you watched him come back to himself. Aaron ran his hand down his face, swinging his legs over the side of the couch to sit. He held out a hand to help you up. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” You brushed yourself off and stood. “I thought we talked about you sleeping out here.” You noted the files spread over the coffee table. All had something to do with George Foyet. Phone records. Witness reports. Anything that could connect to that man. “And working so late.” 

He sighed. “I didn’t realize what time it was and I closed my eyes for a second.” He looked up at you with guilt. “I’m sorry I woke you.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” You gave him a reassuring nod. “Between the two of our nightmare records, we should start keeping count.” He shook his head and, beneath his harried expression, you thought you caught a glimpse of a smile. 

The two of you ended up at the kitchen table with spoons and the secret tub of ice cream he sometimes had to hide from Jack between you. 

“You,” he took another spoonful, “should be getting your rest. You have a big week starting tomorrow.” 

You let the cool dessert dissolve on your tongue. “Dr. Sweets thinks it’ll be a good thing. Getting out from behind a desk and back to real research again could be just what I need.” 

“If I had known he’d be encouraging you to sit across from killers, I might not have recommended him,” Aaron said. 

A few months back, when it was clear the therapist you’d been seeing wasn’t working out, Aaron told you about a psychiatrist at the FBI. He was young, but Aaron had heard really good things about him. And, even though he usually only treated agents, he was more than happy to do the BAU unit chief a favor. 

While you were closed off at first, you’d come to think of Dr. Sweets as almost a friend as much as a therapist. There was something about his youthful excitement that just made you think of someone else you knew. 

“And I wasn’t just talking about work,” Aaron added, taking another scoop of the mint chip. He eyed you from across the table. “Are you sure you’re ready?” 

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve seen him since…” You cleared your throat. “Since I started staying here.” 

“But it’s the first time you’ve called it a date,” he said. 

He was right. While you’d seen Spencer here and there over the past few months for coffee and check-ins and the occasional awkward lunch, it was the first time you’d let yourself call a meal with him a date. Unpredictable schedule permitting, he was cooking for you at the apartment in a few days. Even just thinking about it almost gave you those butterflies you hadn’t felt since you first started seeing each other. 

You shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.” 

“Don’t let Reid hear you say that,” Aaron chuckled. Frankly, he was a troubling mix of excited and worried for you. And for Reid. The younger agent had seemed anxious ever since you’d made the plans. But between staying with him and staying with Haley, he could tell the loneliness was starting to take a toll on you. “Just don’t try and rush into something you aren’t ready for.” 

You snorted and raised a brow at his wording. “I think we’re a little past the point for that kind of talk, don’t you think?”

“Y/N,” he groaned. “I have one rule.” 

“Come on, you walked into that one.” 

“Every joke, every comment you make about…” He couldn’t even bring himself to say it, making you laugh even harder. “I can’t ever unhear that!” 

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” 

The two of you looked at each other for a moment before you both burst out laughing, any memory of either of your nightmares pushed to the back of your mind. 

You’d come so far. You had to believe there would be a point where you could start to feel like… well, you again. You only hoped that point was now. 

-

You packed everything into your messenger bag except for the journal on your nightstand- aka, Aaron’s desk. It was a light-colored leather with a silver clasp and a message on the inside cover. You knew it by heart. 

“In the journal I do not just express myself more openly than I could to any person; I create myself.” Susan Sontag. 

I hope you find a way to create a you that’s happy. 

Merry Christmas, Y/N.

Love, Spencer. 

You took it with you everywhere. Dr. Sweets thought it was a good idea for you to write down your feelings. That way, you wouldn’t just keep them inside. You thought it was unnecessary, but since it was a Christmas present from Spencer, you tried it anyway. 

You hated that they were both right. It wasn’t a magical solution, but, to some extent, it helped. Spencer may not have said the words ‘I told you so’ when you told him about it, but you could tell he was struggling not to. It made you smile. Really smile. 

You picked it up from the desk and carried it out with you. Today, you were going to need it. Sonia was letting you dip your toe into interview work again as part of a study on arsonists. You figured she’d tried to pick something as disconnected from your past as possible and fire was the best option. 

Still, it was better than the desk work you’d been stuck with ever since you’d been approved to come back to work after the weeks of rehab Aaron had you go to.

Your brother was gone before you left, but you knew he wouldn’t be there to wish you good luck, having woken up to a text saying he’d been called on a case. You had to pack a bag, since you’d be staying with Haley.

That was something else you were looking forward to with work. It was nice to be trusted again. 

Everything was set when you got to the office. The person you’d be interviewing was in a nearby prison, so you wouldn’t have too far of a drive. Sonia was going with you, but she’d let you be in charge of the interview itself. It was pretty customary to bring a partner and you were glad it’d be her. 

Despite what you’d told your brother, you could barely contain how nervous you were. 

When your phone started to ring, it wasn’t the voice you expected on the other line. 

“Aaron, I already told you I’ll be fine,” you answered with a roll of your eyes. 

There was a slight chuckle. “I’m sure you will be.” 

You stopped in your tracks. “Spencer, hey. Sorry, I figured you were my brother checking in.”

“Yeah, he seems a little more pensive than usual,” he said. You imagined the little turn of the corner of his lips. “I was just calling about this week. Maybe we can plan for whenever we get back from this case?” 

“Sounds good.” You could only hope you didn’t sound as nervous as you felt, but knew he’d be able to tell anyway. He always could. 

A moment of awkward, empty static passed before either of you said anything again. 

“I guess I should probably go,” he said. 

“Me too. Big day.” 

He blew out a breath. “Don’t push yourself too hard, okay? If you start to feel overwhelmed or uncomfortable, I’m sure your boss would let you step back again.” 

“I don’t want to step back,” you sighed. “I want to feel… normal again. Or as normal as either of our lives allow us to be.” He inhaled, preparing his argument, but you cut him off. “I’ll see you when you get back. Be safe, Spence.” 

Spencer closed his eyes and sighed. “Yeah. You too. I’ll see you soon.” He left off the final three words in his mind. Since you broke things off and started staying with your brother, he was terrified of pushing you. As much as he wanted to remind you how much he loved you- even after all this time apart, after everything that happened- he didn’t want to make it too much. So he kept everything to himself, which had been eating at him for months. Still, the words burned on his tongue. 

I love you. 

“Hey,” JJ said, taking him out of his thoughts. “Everything okay?” 

“Y/N’s doing her first interview since she got back,” he explained. “I just wanted to check in on her before she goes.” 

“I don’t know how you guys do it.” JJ shook her head. “Sitting in a locked cell with people who have done such horrible things. Just thinking about it gives me the willies.” She noticed the nervous expression on the younger agent's face and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure Y/N will be fine. She wouldn’t be doing it unless she was ready.” 

He gave her a small smile. “I know.” Her words stayed in his mind as Hotch briefed the team on their new case in South Padre Island. Was Y/N asking him on a date a sign that she was ready to go back to the way things were? 

No. Things would never really go back to what they were before. It didn’t take a genius to realize that, but still. The small sliver of hope wouldn’t go away, no matter how much his logical brain tried to dispel it. 

Reid did his best to shake any thought of you and tried to focus on the case. No matter how hard he tried, your voice was still there, whispering ideas and theories about the murders.  It was going to be a long couple of days. 

-

You couldn’t stop shaking, though the interview had been done for an hour. Your fingers tapped diligently away at your computer, filling out the report for your findings. It wasn’t that the inmate frightened you. Training and years of detaching had prepared you well to face the monsters behind tragedies. 

It was the look in his eyes. 

The same one you saw in the mirror every morning. Just for a glimpse- a blink- but you still caught it. 

You wondered if it would ever go away. 

“You did well today,” Sonia said from your doorway. She gave you a reassuring smile. “Really well.” 

“Thanks.” You paused, thinking. “It means a lot that you’ve let me stay on here, Sonia. After, well, everything that happened.” 

“Are you kidding?” she said. “I don’t think I could afford to lose that brilliant mind of yours.”  She lingered for a moment to brief you on the next set of interviews she had planned for a study on the psychology of hitmen as serial murderers before leaving you alone again. 

You jumped when your phone rang, this time checking the number before you answered. 

“Penelope?” You said. Your heart dropped. “Wait, did something happen? Is everything okay? What happened?” 

“Relax, Wonder Woman,” she teased. “Everything is fine. I just wanted to know how your first day went. Hotch mentioned it was your first time doing the creepy interview thingy and I wanted to see how you were.” Clearly not well, judging by your immediate reaction, but she didn’t say anything about it. 

“Oh,” you blew out a sigh of relief. “It went… well about as well as it could have, given the task.” 

“How you all do that kind of thing, I’ll never understand,” Penelope shuddered. “I will stick to the safety of my screens, thank you.” 

You chuckled. “Fair enough.” Holding the phone between your ear and shoulder, you turned to face your window. The sky was gray and the clouds were heavy with the rain that was supposed to start later that evening. “Listen, Penelope, I know I’m not supposed to ask-”

“They’re okay,” she interrupted and you could hear the smile in her voice. “You could just call him, you know.”

“I don’t like to bother Aaron when he’s on cases. He likes to keep his private life separate-”

Her bubbly tone stops you again. “I wasn’t exactly talking about Hotch.” 

You groan. “Penelope, you know that we-”

“Aren’t together, I know, and you know how much that breaks my heart. Even though I support you in your decision and I’m here for you every step of the way-”

“Penelope,” you laughed, stopping her before she freaked herself out. “Thanks for checking in on me. We’ll get together soon, yeah?” 

She finally takes a breath. “Yeah. Okay. See you then.” She almost sounds disappointed. When she’s done talking to you, it’s back to death and gore. “Lots of love, Garcia out.”  

You laid your phone face down on your desk, trading it for your journal. 

“Think about the progress you’ve made.” You could practically hear Dr. Sweets’ encouragement as you picked up a pen. And you wanted to think about the day in a positive light. A step in the right direction. But the words that flowed from your hand cast a different spell. 

Today I saw the eyes of a killer and thought I saw a reflection of me in them. I know that what I did was in self-defense and I know that I probably saved more than just me… but will I ever stop feeling like this? 

Your phone rang as you dotted the last ‘i.’ 

“Penelope-” You started, having not looked at the number.

“Wrong again.” 

Spencer stood at the window of his hotel room, looking out at the ocean with his phone on speaker and information for the case laid out in front of him. He’d been staring at pages and photos for the past hour, but something one of the witnesses said had stuck with him. It made him think of you. 

“Spence.” You sat up in your chair. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no it’s not that,” he said. 

“You sound upset, what is it?”

“It’s nothing, I swear…” he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called.”

“But you did, so obviously it must be important.” You packed your journal in your bag, putting the phone to your ear as you locked up your office. “Talk to me.” 

He picked up the phone and opened the door to his balcony. The cool evening breeze greeted him, along with the sound of music from the multiple parties going on. He held the phone to his ear and sighed. 

“We talked to one of the workers of the hotel today,” he explained. “He’d found the body and was up on the roof smoking when Morgan and I found him. It’s just… he said something that stuck with me I guess. I don’t know, it made me think of you and-and me and the things we’ve both been through.” 

You inhaled sharply. “What did he say?” 

“He asked if I had seen ‘bad stuff,’” Spencer said. “And then he asked how long before you can close your eyes without it being there.” He held the cell in one hand and gripped the metal railing with the other. “I told him I still don’t know.” 

You closed your eyes, as if to prove a point. 

Sure enough, Sarah stayed like a photograph that hadn’t quite faded in time. 

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” You asked. 

“I don’t know.” Spencer took a deep breath. “I hope so.” 

You didn’t say anything and he just took a moment to listen to the sounds of you leaving your office and getting to your car. Going to Haley’s, he already knew. He wished he could be there to talk to you in person. To see your eyes again and to sit in silence and just hear each other’s breath. 

“Again, sorry for calling,” he said. “I actually don’t know why I did. I don’t know why I felt like I needed to tell you that.”

“You never have to apologize for calling me, Spence.” You closed your car door and waited to start the ignition. “I’ll see you when you get back, okay?” You closed your eyes again, only this time you imagined him instead. His messy hair. His smile. The little crinkle above his nose when he was thinking. “I love you.” 

He held the railing a little tighter. 

“I love you too.” 

“Call me when you get back.”

“I will.” 

“Goodnight, Spence.”

“Goodnight. Sleep well.” 

You hung up first but you both held the phones for a little while longer, as if you were holding onto each other’s words. 

-

He’d arrived back after everybody else, but didn’t tell you why. He hadn’t even called you when he returned. Instead, he’d been talking on the phone with Aaron for the past twenty minutes, though what about, you had no idea. 

Whatever happened in South Padre Island had affected him more than anyone else on the team. 

While you waited in Aaron’s office/your bedroom, your brother paced across his room with Reid’s rattling off facts on the other end of the line. From the sounds of it, Adam Jackson wasn’t ‘coming back’ anytime soon. 

“How do you know it’s worth it?” Reid asked. He said it so quickly and so in line with his other words, Hotch almost didn’t catch it. 

“What?” 

“This job,” the younger agent sighed. “How do you know it’s worth it?” 

Hotch stopped in his tracks. 

Spencer, who’d also been pacing for the entirety of their conversation, had stopped as well. He stared blankly at your desk. While you hadn’t used it in months, he’d always tried to make sure to keep it clean, but now there was a thin layer of dust on the surface. He must have been too busy with work to notice. 

He’d been too busy with work to notice a lot of things. 

Hotch sighed, pulling Reid’s thoughts back to their conversation. 

“I don’t think I can answer that for you,” Hotch said. He opened his door slightly, catching a glimpse of you in the other room. “You have to decide that for yourself.” 

Aaron couldn’t help but wonder whether or not he’d made the right decision. 

“Thanks, Hotch,” Reid said. He turned away from the desk, facing the kitchen. “I should go. I have to start dinner.” 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? I can tell Y/N-”

“No, I want to see her,” Reid said, his tone betraying the return of his nerves. “I’ll text her to come over. I just hope I can put something together in time.” 

Hotch wanted to play the protective older brother and tell the younger man that a date was the last thing Reid needed after such a harrowing case. But maybe being with someone other than the team, especially someone as close to him as you, would be better for him. Better for both of you. 

“I’ll let her know.” 

“Thanks.”

“And Reid.”

Spencer gulped. “Yeah?”

“Maybe it’d be okay to just get takeout tonight,” Hotch suggested. “Wouldn’t want you burning down the apartment before she gets there.” 

Reid laughed anxiously. “I’ll figure something out. Bye, Hotch.” 

This time, he was the first to hang up. 

But as he felt the exhaustion make his limbs and eyelids heavy, he picked up his phone again.

And ordered a pizza. 

-

With an empty box and not a word spoken between you, you were starting to wonder if you should leave. Aaron had warned you that Spence had had a rough time on the last case, but there was something else hanging in the silence. 

“How did the interview go?” He asked, finally breaking the agonizing minutes of quiet. 

“I think it went well. Sonia seems to think I’m ready for more, so that’s exciting,” you said. “I’m glad to be away from my desk after the past few weeks.”

“Yeah, you seemed a little stir-crazy,” he smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. Instead, you saw a hesitance in his hazel gaze. Setting your crust aside, you put a hand on his arm.

“Spencer, what is it?” Your fingers traced a wrinkle in his sleeve. “What’s going on in that head of yours, hm?” 

“Do you think I should quit the BAU?” He blurted. 

You coughed, wrapping your head around his words to make sure you understood him correctly. 

“What?” 

“I just…” He blew out a breath. “Sometimes it's just hard to see the point. I mean, take this case, for example. We arrested the victim and let the abuser go free. And now, there’s a scared man trapped so far into his own mind because his alternate personality won’t let him out. And you know what Morgan told me? He said ‘You’re going to have to accept the fact that sometimes we can’t save everyone.’” Spencer stood up, running a hand through his hair. “Then what’s the point? If we can’t save Tobias-” 

He stopped, the last name dying on his lips. You said nothing, giving him a moment to process before he continued. 

“Just think about Hotch. Even he was going to transfer, and when he didn’t, the other side of his life fell apart.” Spence shook his head. “I spend so much time trying to save everyone that I-” He took a shaking breath. “That I didn’t know you were the one that needed me the most.” Spencer turned back to you with tearful eyes. “I can’t be yours in this job.” 

“No, Spencer,” you said, shaking your head and standing up to take his face in your hands. “You are everything I need you to be.” Tucking a hair behind his ear, you looked into his eyes with more assurance than you’d felt in a long time. “Your dedication to your job is just one of the things I love. And, believe me, you weren’t the first person in my life I’ve had to share with the BAU.”

The corner of his lips tugged up into a crooked smile. 

You kept going. “You love your work, even though it’s dark and terrifying and messy. You save people. And no, you can’t save everyone, but that doesn’t mean you stop trying.” You leaned closer. “You saved me.” 

He nodded, still holding back tears. 

Eyes still searching his, you closed the space between you and kissed him as if for the first time. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you as close as he could while his lips moved against yours with a sigh of relief in his chest. 

Time slowed. 

You both forgot about the week you’d had and let the relaxing familiarity of each other’s embrace coax your stresses away. 

For the first time in months, you slept in your own bed.

-

The In-Betweens series: @amywright; shesoperfectt;  hereforsmutbcicantgetenough;  violetbossler;  hyper-half-blood;  i-bitch-you-bitch; xcastawayherosx; preciousbabypeter; @jori21; @sol-48;  @murdermornings ; @ staygoldsquatchling02; @ ara-a-bird

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagines #dr. spencer reid x reader #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #david rossi #dr. spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #the in betweens

[cactikiki]

GGY headcanons because I've been thinking a little...

==

Greg met Tony and Ellis in September, right at the start of the school year. He was alone and didn't know where to go, but Tony was there like, "Hey, this new kid's lonely. I think we should check on him."

Tony is nice, but also nosy. He likes knowing people, inside and out

Tony finds new kids especially interesting. There's usually more to them being there than others, who just go to the school because they live nearby or thought it was a good school.

This kid, their family, moved here for a reason... Why?

Hurricane doesn't have anything much going for it. While yes, it's the birthplace of Fazbear Entertainment and has the very first, original Pizzaplex, people don't usually move to the town just for that. Parents wouldn't usually do that.

So there's a story there! Everyone has a story.

As for why Gregory's parents moved at all... He has well-off parents who wanted to work with Fazbear Entertainment. Huge economic opportunity. So they moved in from Salt Lake City, you go to Hurricane now my boy

The whole reason Gregory gets glitchtrapped is because of his parents. Karma got them in the end ig....

Gregory is a good friend to both Ellis and Tony. They click immediately, like they've known Greg for years. They know his full name, but Gregory never really went by it back then, sticking with simply Greg (he would've went by 'Gregory' in SB because he forgot he even had that nickname at all.... and while in and out of consciousness before that, even. So Cassie only ever knew him as Gregory)

Rab wasn't around the whole time, lucky for Gregory. He got to know the duo for a few months before that, got close, and clicked super well with them. So he did have a close connection with them before things went wrong, unlike Cassie who he would've gotten less connection with since he didn't really know her (and when he'd met her, he'd just broken free of being controlled for a few hours, with no memory of any events).

Summer came, and Gregory got to test a Freddy's VR game bc of his parents. He would've begged them too, "It's the least you can do for me. You guys don't spend any time with me! Let me come with you to the company building and test the game, pleaseee?"

Something went wrong at the target audience testing. One of the QA testers kept watching him, a blonde woman with green eyes... She was odd, but Gregory brushed the thought away.

That was, until a sharp migraine hit his head, and everything started to go fuzzy from there.

School came back around in September, and GGY happened. Greg acted slightly differently after summer, but it was probably just normal stuff. Right? It's not like there were any stark differences in personality. That's what Tony thought at least, until he dug too deep and... yeah.

To Ellis, his two best friends just went missing. That's all there was, forever, and he just had to deal with that. They were never coming back.

As for Tony, he'd haunt Greg and probably can't quite believe there's life after death

Gregory, at this point, he doesn't remember. So shit falls off shelves, and he hears his name whispered, and he's like, 'huh. must've been the wind... unless, maybe Vanessa's grandma is here? omg Ness, holy shit come here. I think your grandma's ghost is here??"

But it'd get serious when he finds out the truth. When he realises. When he starts getting hurt by this ghost. He tries to communicate (since my Greg is a paranormal believer and Tony owned a DR60 recorder because of him, while Greg owns a REM-pod). Tony is always angry. He's always upset. Gregory finds himself permanently haunted by him.

Rab racked up a few bodies while he was controlling Gregory; therapists, Tony, his parents, and two random kids he didn't even know the name of. Vanny dealt with the rest. Those mostly went to the Tangle, though; Tony was the only one to have a close enough connection to get stuck attached to Greg.

==

That's all I really have rn, idk I wanted to post this somewhere sjhdjbrkfnfm I had thoughts. Many thoughts. I will continue to have thoughts.

#fnaf #ggy #gregory #Gregory fnaf #tony becker #tony fnaf #ellis fnaf #ggy trio #headcanons #glitch.txt

[barbara-herself]

Womanhood in the twenty-first century in a predominantly Western culture has been a confusing experience to me so far. Having grown up in Eastern Europe, I have soaked in the habit of contradictions to my bones.

I know not to speak when not spoken to, but my mother taught me to fight the patriarchy. People around me said that girls don't swear and girls don't smoke and girls don't drink or do drugs, so I did all those things just to prove them wrong. They have said that I should not live with a man I'm not going to marry, so I also did that for a while. My teachers told me that girls shouldn't kiss girls, naturally I did that as well. I was taught I am fragile and emotional, but in my core I always knew I must be strong and better than everyone else to prove them all wrong.

People of my generation on the Internet send the message that I should be skinny or not skinny and healthy and have a journey that I share online with pretty pictures and high-resolution videos. I should be active and go to the gym and also read all these books on mental health and definitely see a therapist, but not that one, and also do yoga and mindfullness meditation and travel to new places and talk to friends and also be a career girlboss. I should be proud of my hairy legs and try microdosing LSD, I must be a vegan because otherwise I want the Earth to burst in epic flames, I must be a saviour to everyone, an empath and a strong voice. I must be all these things, but above all, I must be myself.

Don't get me wrong - I am definitely so happy about the fact that we are getting healthier and are taking better care of ourselves and our planet. I hope that one day we get to wake up to the news of Earth's temperatures not being record high that year and we come up with an energy-efficient way to remove carbon dioxide from the atmosphere and also use ecologically friendly packaging for everything. Nonetheless, finding my voice and understanding what I truly want has been incredibly hard for me in all the background noise.

Sometimes, I just think about how nice it would be if I could just tune it all out. Remove myself quietly from the party - no one will even notice, I'm a nobody, no one invited me here - and just breathe. How nice it would have been not to have a childhood spent on social media, constantly informed of Once in a Lifetime Cataclysms. How great it must be to hear your heart speak to you and then do the things it wants you to.

My heart's been battered and broken and it feels like trucks drove through it quite violently. Its voice is weak and breathy, but persistent. It tells me to create art, however I can, whatever it takes. I have no idea how Do I Do Art realistically without starving or being a burden to everyone around me. I'm not even that good. How do I be all those things I must be + be an artist + earn a living + have a social life and eat homecooked meals?

It's April, and I have shedded my old skin. One day, I'll be wise to know what to do after.

#writers on tumblr #writing #spilled words #words #spilled thoughts #writers and poets #writeblr #feminism #female writers #modern femininity #art #artists on tumblr

[flowerslut]

😂☀️🏅

What’s the funniest comment someone has left on a fic of yours?

this is such a tough one, but half of @volturialice’s comments on call of the night made me laugh so hard that I befriended and then hung out with her. and fast forward five years she has clowned her way into my heart ~irrevocably~ 🥰❤️

honorable mentions go to these specific ones (top one belongs to my wife ofc)

and I wish I could find the tumblr ask that says “thanks for the stories my therapist will know your name” because that one takes the cake.

Has anyone ever left you a comment that made your day? What did it say?

ALL THE TIME ARE YOU JOKING??? most recently I’ve been getting a lot of comments from people telling me about how my version of maria in roots is turning them into maria stans, and every time that happens I twirl my hair and kick my feet like a lovesick idiot 🤩

also a lot of people have left comments on call of the night (and walk in the dark) to tell me about how they binge-read it over a day or two and those are always my favorite because it means I derailed someone’s sleep schedule for at least one night and that delights me every time. but here’s a pair of comments I think of regularly:

because it 1000% summed up the way I wanted everyone to feel during the climax of cotn’ and to see that I stuck the landing? sublime. nothing will ever feel as good as seeing these as the first two comments after I posted that chapter 🥰

What is the fic you’re most proud of?

this is suchhhhhh a hard one so I’m gonna be a cheating little cheat and answer it in three parts. because my personal favorite fic of mine (not the best, per se, but my number 1) is north star. tbh, that fic should have been much trickier to write (empath alice and psychic jasper? how do you even attempt to successfully jam that into canon!verse?) so i’m very proud of myself for cranking it out over the time span that I did. that was the first fic I ever gave to my wife to look-over and make lil edits to, which is something that I had never once done before with any of my writing EVER.

then or course you’ve got call of the night, and just about everyone has heard the story about that fic, but I really am soooo proud of myself for finishing it! 16/17 year old baby shan would have been sooooo happy to know that it was lovingly completed (technically speaking) in my 20s!

but I think I have to nominate roots for ‘fic i’m most proud of’ just due to the sheer size of this project. and maybe it’s that Current Fic Bias talking (since it’s the only fic of mine being updated/worked on rn) but I really did daydream, outline, and draft an entire 200k word fic with multiple alternating povs and so many moving parts that my even readers are making timelines to make sure they don’t miss anything. that’s so cool for me! that’s so fun! roots has swamped my brain for a year and a half, I’ve put my whole pussy into it, and not to sound like a broken record but shoutout to my wife @volturialice for basically being my editor. the fact that she hasn’t killed me for not knowing the difference between “its” and “it’s” or divorced me for my fixation on unnecessary scene blocking isssss miraculous 🥴

send me more fanfic asks

#you know i had to do it to em (drop the irrevocably about my wife) #these answers are getting long as fuck but whatever y’all asked 3 at once

[gritsandbrits]

Ins & Outs of 2023 💜

I know we're halfway through the year but change doesn't have an expiration date. I've been inspired by seeing lists made by other people so I take a crack at writing my own!

Outs:

Traumadumping/Sending me long rants in my inbox: Now I'm not saying you can't talk to me if something troubles you, I'm always open for a shoulder to cry on. But I am not a therapist. Also, if I'm talking about fandom stuff I don't need textbook long rants about the dangers of white feminism/liberalism/centrism/politics/whatever when I'm talking bout be like, Bratz or Transformers 😅. Half the time it is really not that deep, overly long rants clogs my inbox and honestly, I find them uncomfortable. It seems less like a conversation and more like a grudge post so if your feel that strongly you be better off making your own post. I am just one person!

Calling everything cheugy/ soulless: most of the time cheugy is just a word use to crap on things women likes. Also just because you don't vibe with a certain piece of media doesn't make it soulless, sometimes you don't need long rants or explanations. It's okay to dislike something without putting people down. I personally see this term so much it's becoming as overused as Mary Sue

Respectability Politics: most of the time the people who you work to try to earn respect won't give you that. Some noses need to be broken (metaphorically speaking). It's not being rude you're protecting your space.

Aesthetics: what I mean by this is following trends JUST to follow a trend even if it risks landing you in financial hot water. Or breaking down varied styles based on barebones idea (like there is more to Y2K than a belly shirt and shiny pants). Also not everything needs to be an aesthetic. Speaking of, Shein Hauls. Don't do it! You'd be better off saving on something that's actually worth the money

AI/NFTs: I don't need to explain this one

Beige: Going back to Aesthetic, beige has a connection to it. I know it supposed to give off clean vibes but everything being beige/gray/greige with nary a drop of color in sight just makes me sad :(

Recording People In Public: unless you have permission (or outing a potential Karen) don't do this. You could put someone's life in danger and it's just super rude in general. Getting a popular tiktok isn't worth harming others.

Cringe Culture: I admit I am guilty of participating in it back in my teen years. But now that I know better I realized I was being so sacred and insecure I wanted to be like everyone else...which is being a bully. It made me miss out on fun events and creators I couldve enjoyed if I had taken my head out my ass. Plus I'm not exactly Picasso myself, so who am I to judge. You don't know what an artist is going through sometimes the cringe is their outlet. As long as it's not hurting anyone why should u put people on blast for having fun?

Brand/Studio/Fandom Wars: I think we're at that stage where they have good and bad (and neutral) points. Everything is not always about conflict who makes the better movies/products. I find it reductive and sometimes it gets too far and innocent people end up getting dragged into a war they didn't ask for. Plus artists who work in rival companies/brands do support each other. We can enjoy media without pitting them against each other all the time and honestly it's just obnoxious stan behavior. Looking at you Cartoontwt.

Now it's time for the INs!

Creating for fun&joy: Yes it's okay to be upset if your art or stories aren't getting as much attention as you like, but that doesn't mean no one enjoys it. There's always one or two persons who loves your work! In general it's important to have fun and not let algorithms and "get rich quick" consume you. There is room for fun. Also don't make spite your entire motivation or else you'll end up with a Sonic Omens/ BlueyCapsules scenario. Take it from me: I may hate Cars 2 and Shrek 3 but I love those franchises too much to let interesting ideas go to waste. I have fun with the creating process, making picrews of Gwynn and Rhodanthe and self indulgent stories of my carsona and Finn.

Thinking For Yourself: You do not need to peddle someone else's opinions just bc they're popular. You don't need to jump on bandwagons, you can watch or read media and come up with your own conclusions. Practice Discernment and expand your horizons beyond watching that one review.

Self Inserts/OCs: back to cringe culture what helped me break out of that is making my own OCs. I love making OCs and Self inserts, it helps me get comfortable with designs and writing, everyone has a unique OC and have fun with them. Plus the ships are so cute everyone has a funky selfship or oc x canon

Color/Wearing what works for you: A pop of color helps to make your outfit stand out, and wearing what you want even for a couple of hours helps with your self esteem. Again everything doesn't need to follow an aesthetic or a trend as long as it suits your tastes (and budget)

Buying Products That Work: Don't just buy things just to have them decorate the shelves half the time bc they're cheap & not good for your body. Same with clothes buy something that lasts not because it goes well with a tiktok. Sometimes it's okay to spend a bit more on a product if it truly works for you. Also DIY can be VERY miss (the charcoal & glue peel off masks come to mind) so just get something specifically formulated for you

The Curtains Are PINK! Yes I wrote that in pink 💁 but essentially learn to value critical thinking. Learn to handle - and give - constructive criticism. Yes there are things that aren't that deep but that doesn't mean anything is unworthy of discussion. There's a lot of value in analysing media, and it helps you from hopping on bandwagons of misinformation

Working On yourself: doesn't need to be therapy (btw don't use BetterHelp) it can be anything: writing your feelings out in a diary, making vent art, trying new things, talking to someone you trust, stressballs, fidget toys. 2023 is the year of healing; it is VERY important to know how to FEEL not just shove down your emotions or take it out on someone. We're all adults we have a responsibility to initiate our positive change.

And I guess that's it! That's all I have of my Ins and outs for 2023

#ins and outs #2023 #create for fun and joy #gb asks

[im-tempted]

The Black Parade is a rock opera concept album written by American rock band My Chemical Romance. It follows the story of a young, ex military, terminal cancer patient  as he reckons with his life, death, and the impact his life really had. Many people like to rearrange the song order of the album to tell the story, however I think the order of all of the tracks in Black Parade are where they’re meant to be. MyChem’s other albums tell a cohesive story within their designated track orders and never need to be swapped around so I personally follow that rule as well when it comes to Black Parade.

Of course we start with The End narrating, rather sarcastically, the current situation of our protagonist. The End and Dead! are two tracks in this album that are the definition of DO NOT SEPARATE.

Generally I see The End and Dead! as the big opener,This Is How I Disappear as anger The Sharpest Lives as reckless self indulgence/destruction, Welcome to the Black Parade as a reflection in a moment of clarity almost like a broken promise the patient never wanted to break, I Don’t Love You is the patient speaking to his partner possibly trying to convince them to give up loving him because he's a dead man already.

House of Wolves is the religious guilt/anger of realizing that all the actions he took serving his country and how he lived his life were damning and not saving, while Welcome to the Black Parade is a hopeful look on the afterlife, House of Wolves is a negative. “Heaven” vs “Hell” maybe.

Cancer is pretty self explanatory, patient speaking to his loved ones nearing his end. Mama is A Lot. It’s a confession of sin from the war (this and blood and dead are where the military context comes from as well as the social political climate of when the album was released) it's a confession of sin in the personal life as well. “You should have raised a baby girl I could have been a better son” can take on a few meanings all of which are up for interpretation. Sleep is a sobering realization. It’s devoid of anger or passion or anything, like a quiet defeat.The opening tape recording is of Gerard describing to their therapist the nightmares they had while staying in a haunted house to write this album with his bandmates.

Teenagers I have not enough to say regarding the overall story but a banger. Disenchanted is in the title, it's the final result and reflection of the patient’s life. No matter what he did it was always going to end up this way. Nothing he could have done would have changed it.

 Famous Last Words is an interesting one. Gerard originally wrote it for their brother Mikey, who was taking a short break from the band during the writing process to deal with various mental health going ons at the moment. When he returned and heard the song he asked for it (AND DISENCHANTED!) to be on the album. It fits thematically, and adds a hopeful note to the end of a tragedy.

THESE ARE MY INTERPRETATIONS I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR YOUR OWN IF YOU'VE GOT ANY. ABSOLUTELY AMAZING ALBUM

this became so much longer than i thought it would i am so sorry

ok finally have the time to sit down and respond to this idk how long this will get i have thoughts(tm) if theirs one thing I'm always thinking about it's death and SPECIFICALLY terminal illness which as someone who's actually had that will probably wildly influence my reading of the album (I know shock to everyone I've never been to war) as well as my big feelings about medical things in general (this album was made in a lab about me actually)

overarching it's always interesting to see stories where death is not only expected but something actively being waited for I feel like everyone and their mother knows they're going to die to the point it's joked about but I don't think many people actually understand that as someone who had to metaphorically stare down the barrel of a gun from birth it's always interesting to see others express that feeling of not quite apathy that I've always felt but the moment you stop trying to claw your way away from death and when you start just living with it always over you shoulder

anyways back to the actual album

there's something so visceral about giving your body to your country and having it not be able to save you back of sacrificing your safety for you to come back home just to die of something no one can save you from there is no atonement in death of chance you went somewhere and you hurt a lot of people and you come back and don't even have the chance to die of it you die of chance like all the others like people who weren't broken for a cause who didn't shape themselves into a weapon to serve

they say that they don't feel bad for the blood on their hands and should they? for getting sucked into the largest propaganda campaign for trying their best for being in the wrong place at the wrong time a dying man can feel no guilt at some point it's just to late there is no point in feeling bad for what brought you somewhere when you simply don't have time

I think this album is also particularly interesting when the singer is explicitly talking to others (like in mama) 'cuz even though the POV person seems to have come to terms with what they've done it's interesting to one of the hardest parts of dying is trying to explain to anyone else you are because no one will actually believe you I don't have to many thoughts on that right now but I just think that's a part of dying people don't talk about is when you've come to terms with it and no one else has

OVERALL I will be thinking about this album probably for a while and this isn't even close to all of my thoughts but I have so many posts I can make in the future so there's always that This one got a tad away from me I can talk about each song on it's own later if you want but for right now I think all the time about what it's like for someone to come to terms with the fact they are dying and what they had to make themselves to get there (< is so normal about this and hasn't based their whole life around it for almost two decades)

GREAT SONGS

#as I said this got away from me #and you should be grateful/j #love to hear your thoughts please ask me anything I love it so much #album of all time #stickers #adam fucking around #tw medical

[genderqueerdykes]

Hey - sorry if this is weirdly personal (on my end, that is!) but I’m a nonbinary trans masc individual. I’m an adult, I work and pay rent and get exhausted with property management companies when they won’t fix my broken heating system. I came out to my mother when I was 12-13 - although since I wasn’t online and didn’t have many friends who were either I didn’t know about the term nonbinary - and told her I ‘didn’t feel like I was a girl.’

I’m wanting to come out. Getting mis gendered everyday sucks, not being seen sucks and so much is outside my realm of control that this one little thing, to tell people ‘Actually I’m not a woman at all, here’s my pronouns and name thanks’ is the dream. It’s something I can conceivably do! Except I feel old. I feel old and on top of that I feel like I would lose a lot of my connections both personally and professionally. My unofficial job is doing video game and animation voice acting. The only people to whom I’m out irl are my cousin and one of the animators I work with. They’re lovely but they’re only two people. Lately my problems with gender have increased exponentially and the only gender therapist in my COUNTY said ‘Yes young women tend to distance themselves from their womanhood when they’ve been mistreated by men’ (I’m paraphrasing but I also don’t wanna be triggering, if you understand). And she wouldn’t help me. I don’t know what to do or if I should do anything at all! Technically I know there’s no wrong age to come out, but it feels like the more years I stay in the closet the harder it’s gonna be when I do - and I really want to, it’s chewing me up. I’m scared, I suppose, especially since I don’t “look” nonbinary/trans masc (according to my image issues and quite a few younger people I’ve met in the community who say I’ve got it easy since nobody knows I’m trans). I don’t know, I’m already rambling on enough. Do you have any advice, anything at all? I’ll take it. If not, totally get it, it’s a long winded message.

Either way, have a lovely evening and enjoy yourself. Cheers!

damn dude... i get a lot of messages like this and they really speak to me, because i was once a closeted transmasc nonbinary person from a very small rural area (the town i was born in/the towns i lived in afterward were all around 1,000 people in terms of population) itching and trying so hard to come out but not knowing where to start or what to do

i wanted to say that i'm very sorry that it's so hard for you to come out, especially considering that your job involves your voice. that must be so difficult. i was trying to get into voice acting before i transitioned and people were trying so hard to get me to record lines before i started T and it was causing so much dysphoria. i understand how hard that must be

this might sound really weird, but hear me out. if you aren't sure if you can socially transition, if you're not comfortable coming out to a group of friends or family or whatever yet, come out to yourself. whenever you're alone, do gender affirming things. do things in your spare time that allow you to be who you are. come out to any online friends that you have and be yourself with them, too, and be aggressive about using the correct name, identity and pronouns. i know coming out online isn't the same, but it helps when you are very adamant with it.

become comfortable with being your real self first. then you can show the people in your life who you really are. it'll be easier if you're confident when you come out. coming out as nonbinary is never easy, but if you have a good footing in who you are, and are referring to yourself by the correct name, pronouns, and presenting how you like, it'll be easy to imprint that on to others with confidence

i'd say try to find ANY queer peers in your area that you can. ANY within your age range, try to see if you can find a gay/straight, pride, or lgbt alliance, or see if there is a transgender resource center, or other transgender center. colleges will usually have some type of queer pride group and queer resources. if you are of the appropriate age, you can try to see if there are trans and drag events at local gay bars and work your way up from there. you may even have to reach out to neighboring bigger cities or even other states. i ended up moving across the country before i could have access to hormones and whatnot, to a much bigger city with a larger population.

my heart goes out to you, i hope you're able to find a way to transition that's comfortable and safe for you, that allows you to do what you need to do to achieve your happiness. if you need to take a break from your current line of work, i support that, but i also support not wanting to. you do need to do what's right for you in the end, whatever that means. i hope you can be a happier version of you, and let the world know who you are safely, and at a pace that works for you and your situation. take care, stay safe, hope to hear from you again!

#asks #answers #dysphoria #transphobia #terf rhetoric #radfem rhetoric

[kursed-arcana]

Fruits Basket Prelude Review

Fruits basket prelude. The values of modern times may change, but past media doesn’t.

The relationship of Kyoko and Katsuya is controversial amongst fans of the series, especially the anime onlies who flooded the fandom as result of the reboot. What is important to remember is that fruits basket is both a series from another culture, and another time. The 90s and early 2000s was a different time. Teens dating slightly older adults wasn't viewed the same way and the further back you go, the more common it was. From The Sound of Music, to Sabrina the Teenage Witch, you see it. Add in the fact japan is a different culture which changes at a different rate and you should get the picture. And for the record, the story is self aware enough where starting drama accomplishes nothing. Kyoko literally makes a Lolita complex joke at Katsuya's expense.

Let's all remember this is a work of fiction as well and enjoy the show. While we may relate to these characters and love them, they aren't real. And fiction is where we explore fantasy. A student teacher romance itself, being a popular romance story trope.

Before we tackle the prelude, let's address the recap and epilogue.

The recap, while unnecessary does provide some nice insight into kyo's point of view. For those of you who were dissatisfied with some creative liberties the final season took regarding kyo "forgetting" his connection to Tohru and Kyoko, despite it being clear through out the earlier seasons and even during the final itself, that he didn't, this clarifies that he simply tried to put it in a box and not think about it. Is it a lazy retcon because TMS got called our for their bs and realized they created plot discrepancies that weren't there? Probably but we'll never know for sure. At best this recap serves the purpose of emotionally prepping the viewer to cry during the movie and reintroduce the context regarding kyo's bond to Kyoko. Something that wouldn't have been necessary if they final season was given the full season order it needed.

At worst, it's just a cheap and pointless time killer eat up runtime while barely spending any money. It's also a minimalistic approach to trying to restore the emotional impact this background story had during the manga and how the later content would play off this tension, both during Kyo and Tohru's character arcs. Not that tms / production committee saw much value in those, despite them being the protagonist and love interest.

Now Takaya sensei hear our pain about the final season rushing though content and not properly delivering the resolution to character arcs and the story. And she took this opportunity to provide a nugget of joy to anime and manga fans alike. That's right, a new brief epilogue from therapist. I mean mangaka.

While the epilogue is brief, it hits all the right notes. It builds on Tohru and Kyo’s graveside conversation and shows a glimpse at their married life. The happy couple is living their best lives, working hard, panning a trip back to the family and being all lovey dovey. Its everything tms cut out of the main series. It's thrilling to see some of the sweet kyoru content we deserved. Thank you sensei.  You never fail to deliver when you're needed. Now please pick up that pen and get back to Liselotte. If you're truly done with furuba and furuba another your fans need you elsewhere.

So let's dive in to prelude now. Katsuya Honda is an interning student teacher and the fantastic woman we all know and love, Kyoko, is a middle school senior. Their paths cross at a time where Kyoko is young, rebellious and emotionally volatile. She is the crimson butterfly, the girl gang member feared by her peers, and underneath her tough as nails facade, is just a broken girl from an unhappy home.

This is the story about how this girl became the emotional pillar that helped save Arisa, Kyo and of course Tohru. And the person who saved her? That's right, Katsuya Honda. He saw in Kyoko, the same emotions he hid beneath a mask of his own and when she broke down and cried, he fell in love. It was her raw honesty that reached him. And while their situations may have been different, they were still quite similar.

While she had chosen to put on a tuff girl act and gall in with a bad crows in order to hide her pain, he had chosen to give into the demands of his controlling and judgmental family and put on the act of the dutiful and obedient son. Even his decision to pursue teaching was in order to please those around him, be they family or the expectations of the other teachers. You can see the moments he drops his mask. He removes his glasses (which are fake and part of his facade) and swiftly flips the switch into a dark prince type character. He takes Kyoko pointing out his bad behavior as a compliment every time. Because she sees the real him along with the fake him and enjoys it. Just like how he sees value in both versions of her.

 The two of them spent many lunch breaks chatting and growing closer. She never once attended his class. Even after he revealed he would be leaving the school and not pursuing education, she couldn't bring herself to face her peers judgement by entering a classroom. But luckily for her this twisted teacher wanted to keep meeting her.

His belief in her, reach her. It helped guide her to a better path. And helped teach her that she is worthy of love. But this better path and desire to change was held back by her past. Her decision to leave her gang, stole her opportunity to attend high school and got her disowned by her family. But luckily for her, Katsuya provided the home she needed and with the blessing of her father who just wanted her gone, married her.

We spend just enough time witnessing and enjoying their life together to become attached to their bond, their marriage and their parenting before tragedy strikes and Katsuya abruptly passess away. It leaves you wanting more, a feeling painfully shared by Kyoko as she is reduced to an empty shell of the woman she was before. She falls into so much darkness that she essentially forgets about Tohru entirely.

This story is as much a commentary on societal expectations as it is a romance. Both Katsuya and Kyoko were forced to hide behind masks as they came from two very different, but very troubled homes. They were judged by their family, each others families, their peers, but with the support of Katsuya's father who had lightened up after the death of his wife, they were able to move forward, determined to prove everyone who judged their relationship wrong.

"Show them you are happy because you are together"

That’s right people, even within the story their relationship is judged as wrong. And anyone who is looking at furuba as some black and white morality story seriously needs to rewatch it again. After katsuya's death,  insults at hurled at Kyoko by both his family and her own father. And while the movie didn't show it, the anime did reveal that they even insulted tohru, choosing to say hurtful things like she probably isn't even Katsuya's son. We spent 40 minutes on a recap but couldn't even have crucial content like that put in cause reasons.

Now I want to take the time to discuss something very important. The poor planning of the series that tore the final season to pieces is not solved through this movie alone. And the poor planning continues here. The time spent on the 40 minute recap, could of easily been spent animating content that directly ties into Kyoko's death. Kakeru's arc and connection to Tohru were repeatedly foreshadowed throughout the second season. Manga spoilers follow, so please only continue if you're OK with that. This would of been the perfect opportunity to fix one of the biggest mistakes of the final season, which was not adapting the content revealing what this connection was. Kakeru's girlfriend, Komaki, who was also mentioned several times, is the daughter of the man who killed Kyoko with his car. He attended Kyoko's funeral and went off on tohru for acting like she was the only person who lost someone in that accident (all before Komaki could nock some sense into him). An act that would play a part in Tohru beginning to hide her grief behind her happy go lucky attitude for most of the series. The final season did Tohru's background and character arc a disservice in many ways, and while this movie at least restores some of it, it does not fully deliver or resolve the issues with the final season.

I'll see you guys when tms and the production committee come back for more ovas, movies or whatever else they decide to do to bleed more money out of us. There's still entire chapters that were left unadapted and plenty of half chapters and skipped scenes, so here's hoping for a director's cut. Otherwise, be sure to check out the manga. You won't regret it. The story deserves the be told infull and that's the only way to experience it as of now.

And for anyone wondering if they'll adapt furuba another, the sequel series, kakeru and komaki's child is a player, so it shouldn't be adapted without a proper adaptation of their story arc.

Please make sure to like my review on mal

And if some of you'd be interested in hearing more of my thoughts, please let me know. I had a lot more I wanted to say but thought it was already pretty long for a review. I'm more then happy to write a bit more analysis though if asked.

And please excuse typos. I'm still doing everything from my phone. I held onto this review for over a week to make corrections but got lazier the more time went by.

#katsuya honda #kyoko honda #honda kyoko #fruits basket #furuba #fruba #fruits basket prelude #sohma kyo #kyo soma #kyo sohma #kyo souma #honda tooru #tohru honda #honda tohru #kyoru #tohru sohma #fruits basket 2019 #review #analysis #anime review #movie review #fruits basket the final #fruits basket related #shoujo #shojo #classic shoujo

[dopecoffeehideout]

My therapist would tell me as if she was a broken record hitting that knick in the vinyl that I could create my life however I wanted it to look. She’d easily throw it into the space between us as if I was like taking a breath. I struggled understanding how to do that and what she meant because my life was already my life. There wasn’t anything to change, remove, or add.

It wasn’t until I left and cut him out that I understood. And the part that I wish she told me about is how difficult it is to leave. To leave a life you were a part of for ten years. To leave behind a family member. To leave behind a friend. To leave your old self behind. And the grieving that comes from all of it. 

It has not been easy. Part of it is my own fault because I thought it would be. That it’d be this linear path to feeling better, but forgiveness isn’t linear. Growth isn’t linear. It’s fluid and ever changing and will punch you in the gut and steal the air from your lungs when you least expect it. I unexpectedly find myself with an anger I thought I put to rest when I left. The sadness comes when I’m leaning over the kitchen sink doing the dishes. And I don’t find myself fighting as much to let these feelings resurface, but I can’t say I enjoy it. It’s not as severe and it’s much more infrequent, but occasionally, there are days where it feels like a small step backwards. 

She was right in the belief that I can define my life however I want to, but I wish she warned me how difficult it would be. There’s a lot I feel alone with because of it. There are parts I can’t talk about with the people I should be able to because of a difference in view. It’s almost like it never happened with my brother and I think I’ll always have that deep desire to find a way in showing the pain I have because of our dad. I think I’ll always have a bewilderment around why I wasn’t believed in totality. 

I know I’ll always have this anger. I know it’s a silent burden. But I’m learning to live with it. I’m learning how to give it its own space in my body without it encroaching my overall peace. I’ll always hate him. I’ll always hate what he did. And I’ll always feel like punching him in the face if I ever see him. 

I don’t know that I can forgive him. 

I don’t know that I want to. 

#dad #thoughts

[brandstifter-sys]

Pomp and Princes

Chapter 1: Introduction to Destruction            (Ao3)

Rating: T+

Characters: Virgil, Remy, Janus

Warnings: genderbend (Remy), ftm!Virgil, eventual dukexiety

Virgil is a guitarist and average guy who gets the chance of a lifetime

Everyone has their limits, everyone has to walk their own path. That's what they told the press before going on their final tour. Pomp and Princes broke up and millions of fans were hopelessly crushed. 

"Virgie!" Remy groaned, draped across the futon in their shared apartment. Virgil was sitting on the ground, tuning his guitar—a purple Stratocaster with a storm cloud on the body. He was fairly neutral about the end of yet another pop band, even if they were his roommate's idols. 

"Rem, you've literally said the same thing fifteen times today. I'm over here trying to practice and I can't with your broken-record bitching," Virgil scoffed and flipped the hair from his face. Remy pouted at him and scoffed.

"My babies broke up! The Royal Dream twins won't be Pomp and Princes! No more new music, no more tours! You have no idea how horrible it is!" 

"My. Chemical. Romance." 

"They're back, try again!" 

"Chiodos. Close to Home. Metallica. Scary Kids Scaring Kids. Aiden. I Am Ghost." 

"Okay so you get it! Gu—Babes show a bitch some sympathy!" 

"It's been a week, Rem, a week. Everyday has been the same repeat whining over and over for hours. I'm not saying you can't be upset but I have other shit to do. You got plenty of sympathy from me. But right now I am not available to be your therapist," Virgil said with an edge to his voice. Remy pouted and got up. 

"I'm gonna go out, hangout with some friends downtown. I'm already ordering a Lyft." 

"Stay safe, text me with location updates, and don't get killed," Virgil responded. Getting out would be good for Remy, and it would give him some peace and quiet.

"Fine," Remy groaned and left him alone. The coffee thot really needed to get out and distract herself. And it would give Virgil some time to himself alone. 

About two hours after Remy left, Virgil was putting his guitar away in his room. He was ready for a shower and then mindlessly scrolling through tumblr when his phone rang. It was a number he didn't recognize, but he couldn't ignore it, not when he had his number posted for musical gigs like birthday parties or weddings. 

"Hello?"

"Hello, I'm looking for Virgil Segreti, I'm Janus Catesby, a manager from Galactic Records," a man with a low, suave voice responded on the other end of the line.

"This is Virgil," he said, his mind already reeling. Galactic Records was one of the biggest record companies in the country. They signed some of his favorites like Edge of Yesterday and Colder than my Heart, and some big performers like Pomp and Princes. This was too good to be true.

"Excellent. My client is looking for a guitarist to go on tour with him in a month. I was looking through different listings nationally and checking their posted samples and performances and my client could use your skills and frankly your specific style and taste."

"Is this a prank call?" Virgil squeaked, clutching his phone tightly. It was way too good to be true.

"I'm afraid not. If you agree it would be a three month tour across the country, with performances most evenings. You would of course be compensated handsomely. He will be setting off in exactly one month from tomorrow across the river from Philadelphia." 

"And you want me to do this? Are you sure?" 

"Yes. Can I assume that you're interested?" 

"Yeah—yes, definitely!" Virgil gasped, trembling from his knees to his arms.

"Then I'll send you the parts you have to learn. Your email is listed on your page, correct?" 

"Yes." 

"Excellent. I'll include the address where we'll meet up for the trip and the time you should arrive when I have the details, assume it's early morning. I look forward to working with you and you can email me any questions after you get the itinerary. Have a nice evening," Janus said and hung up. Virgil dropped his phone and stared at the wall as it hit him. This was a dream come true—performing in the background on tour with someone signed with the Galactic Records.

He shrieked and squealed and spun around the room, bubbling with glee. He didn't hear his phone vibrate and continued to excitedly bounce around his room. How could he not be excited? 

Not even ten minutes later Remy burst into the apartment and shrieked with joy. She wasted no time slamming into Virgil's door and knocking frantically. 

"Rem holy shit!" Virgil squealed when he flung open the door and pulled her into a hug, "I can't believe it!" 

"Me either! So glad you're hype about it too! I have the luck of the gods! I can't even!" Remy cheered and hugged him tighter. Virgil, however, froze. 

"Wait, what?" he said, breaking free from the hug. Remy stared at him like he was crazy. 

"I texted you! I won tickets to see Pomp and Princes! Front row seats with backstage passes! And since I have no one else to drag along, you're coming with!" 

"What!? I never agreed to that!" Virgil sneered. Remy shrugged. 

"Too bad! It's exactly a month away and I know you don't have to work!" Remy retorted with her hands on her hips. Virgil groaned and ran a hand down his face. 

"I just got the gig of a lifetime, and it starts the day after your stupid concert." 

"Gig of a lifetime? Babes, I need deets!" Remy gasped and grabbed his shoulders excitedly. 

"A guy from Galactic Records called, I'm going on tour with some singer who needs a guitarist. Three months on the road, getting paid to play." 

"Virgey!" Remy squealed and hugged him, bouncing on the balls of her feet, "Oh my God, that's incredible! You get to be a rockstar! And to celebrate we get to meet Pomp and Princes!" 

"Try to find someone else to go, I have a feeling it's gonna be an early morning or a very late night." 

"Oh okay, but no promises. Hoes gotta work! Just like you will! It's like your dream come true!" Remy cheered. She was so right!

Reblogs > Likes I update on Ao3 much faster

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #remy sanders #janus sanders #eventual dukexiety #platonic sleepxiety #fem!remy #pomp and princes au #band au #sanders sides fanfiction #sandyscribed

[juniwilson]

Seconds | Para

Tagging: Juniper Wilson w/ mentions of Chris & Atlas Grimaldi, Robin Wilson, & Cisco McCoy When: Morning, Friday Sept. 23, 2022 Notes: Juniper attends a therapy session the morning of Cisco’s birthday party Triggers: Talk of anxiety, medication, SIDS, & infant loss

“How are you doing, Juniper?”

The fidgeting as their second session began. The first session had been mostly introductory--gliding through some surface and soft ball questions while sharing why they had begun therapy up for the second time in their life.

“I’m sorry, I probably sound like a broken record, but... I’m anxious right now, and I’m anxious for tonight.”

“What’s happening tonight?”

“My fiance’s best friend is having his birthday party tonight. We’re both going and it’s our first night out together, without Atlas.”

The therapist, Dr. Grier, gave a slow nod, “Do you want to tell me what you’re anxious about?”

Juni nodded while looking down at their fingers, tearing away at their nails, little by little. “I know that being here is what’s best for me, and that I need to do what I can to get my PPA under control, but being here... I mean, being away from Atlas right now is making me anxious.” Following a deep breath in, they went on. “My brother’s going to watch him tonight and even though logically, reasonably I know that my son is safe and if something was wrong, my brother would tell us right away. But it’s still difficult to be away from him.”

Dr. Grier nodded while jotting a few notes down. “When you are at home with your son, are you resting at all?”

“Um...” after a moment’s hesitation, she admitted, “Not as much as I should. Or could. I’ve tried, but I either end up keeping myself awake with different scenarios, or if I manage to fall asleep, it’s not very restful and I make sure that I’m close by to him in case he needs me.”

“Do you feel supported at home when it comes to Atlas?”

“Yes, absolutely!” There was no hesitation that time and their eyes even widened a bit. “My fiance’s been the best dad and partner, even with his own work load. And we have a few of our brothers who are there regularly and help out when they can. Our friends have offered to help too.”

“That’s very good that your family has a strong support system,” Dr. Grier noted.

“Yes,” agreed Juni. “I’m so grateful--we both are. I just don’t want to burden anyone if it can be helped. And the books and articles I’ve read about a baby’s first month emphasize the importance of baby-parent bonding within the first month after birth. And that being away as long as overnight shouldn’t happen for the first few months. I know I’m not ready for that.”

Again, Dr. Grier gave a few nods. “You should know that PPA or not, that is very normal to not be ready to be away from your baby for very long. Overwhelmingly parents to newborns--especially first time parents don’t take time away overnight or for a large portion of a day unless it’s absolutely necessary or unavoidable. How old did you say he is?”

Juniper smiled a bit, “He’ll be one month old tomorrow. I can’t believe a month has already passed since he arrived.” She laughed a little from her own disbelief and then glanced down at her fingernails--most of her nails now torn down to the plate. “It’s not that I don’t feel ready, so much. I mean I know I’m not but it’s more than that. Or... it’s the other things. Not feeling like I can sleep for long or be physically away from him for long out of fear that something might happen that I’ll miss. Frequently checking up on him to make sure that he’s still breathing while he’s asleep. Watching people who are new to him hold him, and making sure that he’s being held right and securely.” Juni drew in a shaky breath and then said, “Mentally spiraling with worst-case scenarios and not really being able to just relax very much.”

Dr. Grier moved her pen across her notepad as she asked, “I know that you told me about your younger brother having passed from SIDS. Are there additional worst-case scenarios that you have been thinking about when it comes to your son?”

For a few seconds, Juni was silent, but she eventually answered the question. “I think that the thoughts tend to all come back to losing him so young too. It’s gotten to where even when I do manage to sleep, my mind’s been so wrapped up in the worry that I have nightmares about impossible things happening, or very warped versions of real life incidents that could happen.”

“Is there anything else that happens or comes to mind when you start to worry about your son?”

It wasn’t a question Juniper expected, but they thought about it for a while longer than the previous question. “Other than what I’ve mentioned before... a large part of what makes me worry is that if something did happen, that I wouldn’t be able to do anything to help him or ensure his safety. It’s the part of parenting that I worried about while pregnant too.”

Pausing for a moment to finish some notes, Dr. Grier looked at the notepad, nd then returned her gaze to Juniper. “I’d like you to try something today, either once you get home after this session, or before you leave for the party tonight. Think of this like a homework assignment. I’d like you to get a journal, or a piece of notebook paper and I want you to write down what all of your fears specifically are. Everything that’s making you feel anxious. It can e directly relating to Atlas, or it can be about work, or your family, your engagement, your friends--anything. List all of it down one column for me. In a second column, I want you to think about and write down what the worst possible outcome could be for each of those things that are making you anxious. And in a third column, I want you to write down everything you have already done and/or intend to do in order to prevent or reduce the chances of those scenarios taking place.”

Juniper nodded, listening to her therapist. “Okay.”

“The other assignment I have for you is to try to get some more sleep. I know that you said that you haven’t had very much sleep and the sleep that you’re getting isn’t restful. While that is typically heard of for new parents, the reason for your lack of sleep being compounded with the frequent demands of a newborn are concerning to me. Juniper, your lack of sleep is surely effecting you beyond a lack of rest or the PPA. We want you to be the best possible version of yourself for you first and foremost, but for your baby too. Your health is still very closely connected to his health and well-being. I don’t want to scare you or stress you out further, but it is vital that you’re getting more sleep. If attempting to get that sleep on your own isn’t working for you, then I would like to make a recommend to your doctor that you be prescribed either Ambien or Lunesta. A small dose. Either one would be safe for you to take while you’re nursing, but I would strongly encourage you directing your focus on more restful and undisturbed sleep from day to day.”

After a moment of biting their bottom lip, Juniper hung their head, “I understand. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Juniper. I’m here to try to help you out and a part of that is for me to offer you a different perspective to consider. Your focus is on your son and worrying about him. I’m offering you a way to still care for him, but by first taking care of yourself so that you can be the best version of yourself for him.” She reached for one of her business cards and flipped it over, writing along the back while speaking on. “Do your best to complete that first assignment tonight. And if you’re still struggling with the second assignment before we meet again next week, call this number. It should expedite your doctor getting you either the Ambien or Lunesta prescription.”

Juniper accepted the card when her therapist handed it to her. She looked at the number written on the back for a few seconds and then placed it inside of her bag. “Thank you, Dr. Grier. I really appreciate this.”

Dr. Grier nodded. “Of course. Is there anything else you would like to talk about before we wrap up today?”

Juni shook her head. “No... I don’t think I have the time for this session. But I will be at my next appointment with you next week.”

“I look forward to speaking with you then. Be sure to bring your first assignment with you so that we can discuss it.”

Juniper promised that she would and then stood up, bidding the therapist a polite ‘goodbye’ before taking her leave.

#Seconds para

[thatstormygeek]

Brannon's description of coming out is so good (it's in the second pull quote if you don't want to click through).

I'm thankful Donna was able to be her true self for some time, but she deserved more. And it's 100% bullshit that MCA organized the funding for her surgery only to die of cancer himself at age 47. The universe fucked up in multiple ways here.

Part of it, of course, is that Donna didn’t have a language to describe her experience, and in fact, she says that it wasn’t until January of 2002 that she first heard the word “transgender.” As soon as she read about it, Donna saw herself—perhaps for the first time—and began transitioning almost immediately. (“I saw the light at the end of a very dark tunnel and I ran straight for it,” she wrote.) Tragically, not long afterwards, Donna was diagnosed with colon cancer. She had an operation to remove the cancer that year, followed by six months of chemotherapy, but the cancer came back. “My understanding was that she was pretty much dying, and that she wanted to live out the rest of the little time she had left in the body of her choosing,” recalls Beastie Boys’ Adam Horovitz in Beastie Boys Book. “So [Adam] Yauch took care of it. He organized it so we gave her the money for the [gender-affirming] operation, but it was under the guise of reimbursement and unpaid back royalties for the Polly Wog Stew record from 1982. Donna got the operation, and then within a year passed away.”

As someone who quit my own band in 1997 rather than come out as a gay musician and make an attempt at becoming whole, I watched Laura’s experience play out almost fifteen years later with both envy (for the strength to do it) and concern (for the way becoming a public trans figure almost overnight could affect her). I was elated by the success of Transgender Dysphoria Blues, which incredibly turns ten this year, but I was also curious about how the pressure and attention was affecting her own ability to process coming out, and more importantly, grow into the person she was becoming. One of the greatest misconceptions that people have about coming out is that simply doing so is an end of some sort when, in reality, it’s a humble beginning. As I say to Laura in our conversation, which will be published in full on Thursday, “it’s more like once you do it, you’re staring at a fucking group of broken pieces all around you, trying to put yourself back together, and trying to figure out what was real and what was not real.” For her part, Laura looks back on that moment knowing that she had just reached a place where—for better or for worse—there was simply no other choice. “Ultimately, I don’t think it’s healthy to come out in the public eye like that. You should not do that, really!” she laughs. “But in a way, it’s almost like sobering up—where you can sober up and you may not be ‘fucked up’ anymore, but you’re still fucked up. And then there’s all this work that needs to be done. One of my therapists told me, very early on, ‘You need to understand that the person you think you’re becoming is not who you’re going to be.’ I think, subconsciously, I realized that before they said it, but that was what’s so ultimately terrifying. I realized that I had no idea what was about to happen, really.”

#norman brannon #elder queers #trans lyfe #donna lee parsons #rat cage records #beastie boys