#she wants me to go to this invite only gender clinic thing

[queerhawkeyes]

stuck at liberty international for 6 hours answering work emails on my phone and drinking very expensive coffee

[d0llmakerd0mme]

Doll Dreamworld Brainwashing Starter Smut

Prompts: brainmelt image, dollification, brainwashing, drugging, and ur doll dreamworld fantasy world thing with the extended cnc brainwashed dolls - bonus points for gender neutral doll candidate pre-dollification

CW: CNC, genderbending, brainwashing, painplay, ageplay, sexual drug use (unspecified aphrodisiac,) descriptions of various living dolls engaging in filthy scenarios

“I just want my fucking brain to melt,” you tell the Doll Dreamworld receptionist, a tinge of desperation slipping into your tone.

She taps her stylus and pops her gum, unfazed. “I still need some details from you about how. I need to know what you need, hon. Can you specify your brainwashing goals, please?”

You cringe. She’s asked so many times in so many ways, and you still don’t have a good answer. You just want to stop *being* for a while, without having to end it all.

“May I make a suggestion?” A cool voice wraps itself around you from behind, a breeze across your skin. Your flesh prickles, but something tells you not to turn. “It sounds like this one needs Protocol 001.”

The receptionist arcs an eyebrow at the person behind you, but says, “Certainly. Would you like to look over the parameters for Protocol 001?” She taps her touchscreen a couple times, then spins the tablet to face you.

Trying not to blush as both women watch you peruse the protocol specs, you lean forward over the tablet.

PROTOCOL #: 001

DESIGNATION: DOLL INDUCTION

PARAMETERS: SUBJECT WILL BE GENTLY SEPARATED FROM THEIR SENSE OF PERSONHOOD, REDUCED TO A BLANK SLATE OF SEXUAL SUBMISSION, AND PRIMED FOR FURTHER BRAINWASHING AS A LIVING DOLL

REQUIRED SELECTIONS: HARD LIMITS, ALLERGIES, EXISTING HEALTH CONDITIONS, LENGTH OF SERVICE

OPTIONAL SELECTIONS: SOFT AVOIDANCES, DESIRED PRIMARY FUNCTION

“Oh,” you sigh, relieved that there’s a protocol for this, that you don’t have to keep *deciding* things. “Thank goodness.” You’re not *good* at deciding things. You seem to keep making the wrong decision; it’s time to let somebody else make up your mind for you. Just for a little while. Just until it makes sense to stop.

“Very good,” the receptionist says, businesslike but not unkind. “Let me just get your required selections from you; the Nurse here will just go get your pod ready while we go over all the particulars.”

You only allow yourself to look at the source of the suggestion as she walks past you. The Nurse doesn’t much like one; she’s a short, curvy woman with dimples, dressed in an iridescent vinyl bustier, frothy black petticoat, and tall leather boots under her labcoat. She has a headpiece with a mic and what looks like cat ears. She grins at you, almost hungrily, as she goes into the next room.

Suppressing an anticipatory shiver, you answer all the receptionist’s questions. She inputs them into the program, then has you sign what feels like a dozen forms. Finally, finally, she shows you to a seat by the door the Nurse went through.

You wait, nervously tapping your fingers on your thighs. Being alone with your thoughts is never a good idea, especially not for long. Especially not when you’re nervous.

“All set?” the Nurse’s cool voice punctures your ballooning thoughts with clinical efficiency. Her feral smile is strangely inviting. “Come on back, cutie; I’ve got your pod all set up.”

Trying not to blush, you stumble over yourself to follow her down a dimly lit hallway. “Do I need to—“ you start to ask, but she shakes her head.

“Don’t worry, sweetness; all the instructions will come through your headphones once I get you plugged in.” She opens a door on the left side of the hall and leads you into what looks like a strange, tiny cubicle version of a doctor’s office—like maybe one in space? At the center of the room is an iridescent vinyl table-bed-like thing with black straps and a large assortment of wires, which looks both ominous and inviting.

“Left ear,” the Nurse warns, fitting an earbud snugly into your ear with an efficient touch. “Right ear,” she says, fitting the other, then patting your face affectionately, almost like a puppy. You can’t help the slight flush to your cheeks as she hands you a small clicker with a shielded button. “Now, you can push this button if you need help, have an urgent question, or want to stop at any time, and it’ll release you from the program and I’ll come help you out, okay?”

You nod, and the Nurse beams at you. “Good dolly,” she says, patting your face again. “I’ll be right in the next room, okay?” She points at a framed mirror on the wall; presumably two-way. “I started with the same protocol, so don’t hesitate to push the button and ask for help if you need anything. I may come in and out during your program; other attendants may come and go as well. No one will touch you without the headphones warning you, okay?”

You nod, heart pounding. You should be nervous, scared, even, but mostly you’re just eager to finally let *go*.

The Nurse smiles at you again, tapping a button on her wristband, and the earbuds in your ears crackle quietly to life. The Nurse waves cheerily at you and leaves the room as the program begins.

WELCOME, SUBJECT 3004. PLEASE REMOVE ALL OF YOUR CLOTHING OTHER THAN BODY JEWELRY AND STEP INTO THE STEAM SHOWER IN THE CORNER. YOU MAY LEAVE YOUR BELONGINGS IN THE CUBBY PROVIDED.

You shiver and obey, leaving most of what ties you to the outside world in their iridescent plastic cube before stepping into the glass box shower cubical.

Strange-smelling vapor hisses out of the floor and ceiling grates, gushing warmly over your skin and beading it with moisture. It feels sharp, astringent, almost like washing your hands with alcohol, but somehow entirely different.

YOU ARE BEING WASHED WITH A MILD CLEANSING STEAM. PLEASE SPREAD YOUR ARMS INTO A T POSITION, HOLD THE WALL BAR, AND SQUAT OVER THE FLOOR GRATE WITH YOUR LEGS APART.

You hurry to obey, feeling lightheaded at the sensation of the cleansing vapor billowing into all the soft parts of your body, held open in this position.

INITIAL CLEANSE COMPLETE. PLEASE PROCEED TO THE CENTRAL BED AND ARRANGE YOURSELF ON YOUR BACK, WITH YOUR FEET IN THE STIRRUPS. SAY “READY” WHEN YOU ARE IN POSITION, AND A NURSE WILL CONNECT YOU TO THE NEXT PHASE OF THE PROGRAM.

You tiptoe across the room, already feeling a little divorced from reality by the futuristic box of a room. You climb onto the iridescent medical bed, laying back and awkwardly hoisting your feet into the stirrups, holding your legs spread and aloft. There’s no towel, sheet, or medical robe that you can see; you’re just spread open, waiting for the Nurse.

“Ready,” you say, trying not to let your voice shake.

The Nurse doesn’t make you wait long. Her smile already feels familiar and comforting in this alien room, even if you’re in a very awkward position.

You open your mouth to greet her, but she shakes her head, giggling, and puts a finger to her lips.

PLEASE RELAX AND DO NOT SPEAK. THE NURSE WILL STRAP YOU IN AND CONNECT YOU TO YOUR HYPNOTHERAPY MODULE NOW.

The Nurse fastens straps around your ankles, fixing them to the stirrups, holding your legs splayed. Next come more soft, neoprene-like straps fastened loosely around your thighs, hips, waist, ribs, underarms, biceps, and wrists. You’re well and truly pinned to the table.

A muffling darkness descends as the Nurse lowers a helmet and visor over your head.

REMAIN CALM AND ALLOW THE NURSE TO PREPARE YOU. YOUR PROGRAM WILL BEGIN ONCE YOU ARE FULLY CONNECTED.

You gasp as a thin, cool tendril—the end of a plastic tube, maybe?—nudges at your rear entrance. You instinctively clench against it, but the Nurse’s touch is firm, and the end of the tube, narrow and slick, slides inside you.

A strange pressure, and then there’s a cool burst of fluid rushing to fill your insides. You groan involuntarily, and through the headphones and helmet, you think you hear the Nurse giggle. There’s another push, and a second, bigger gush of slickness filling you up.

The end of the plastic tube withdraws, and you can feel some of the slick liquid dribble out of you after it. It’s probably lube, but there’s a strange tingling sensation from it as well—a drug, maybe? You do remember that consent form.

OPEN YOUR MOUTH.

You obey blindly, opening your lips to let a soft, silicone-covered ring gag fit between them, holding your mouth open wide. Your tongue lolls awkwardly out of the hole, already dribbling drool down your neck and chest.

SWALLOW WHAT YOU ARE GIVEN.

You shudder as a fat tube syringe slides past the ring gag and squirts something saccharinely sweet and medical-tasting over the back of your tongue and down your throat. The Nurse’s fingers stroke your throat, encouraging you to swallow until you manage it.

Your head is spinning already.

A cold metal object probes at your slick, dripping asshole, then pushes firmly inside. You gasp inarticulately as the probe seats itself deep inside you, bulbous metal head rounding off to a narrow neck so your hole relaxes around it, letting the intrusion grow almost comfortable after a moment.

Distantly, you feel the Nurse attaching electrodes to your flesh—your temples under the helmet, your armpits, nipples, navel, inner thighs, pubic mound, perineum.

IF ANY OF YOUR PROBES ARE CAUSING DISCOMFORT, PLEASE ALERT THE NURSE NOW BY PRESSING THE BUTTON IN YOUR HAND. OTHERWISE, REMAIN STILL AND SILENT FOR 30 SECONDS, AND THE PROGRAM WILL BEGIN.

You start counting backwards in your head, but the strange fuzzy feeling from whatever drugs the Nurse gave you makes you forget halfway through. You’re only a little startled when a new voice, sweet and feminine, though still almost alien, ripples through the headphones.

“Good morning, pretty dolly. Do you know who I am?”

You gurgle around the ring gag, shaking your head sluggishly.

“I’m the Main Interface Service System, or MISS. I’m here to help you become the perfect doll. Are you ready to leave all that messy real world nonsense behind and come live in the Dreamworld?”

You groan into the gag, nodding your helmeted head against the medical chair. The drugs are making the probe anchored in your ass feel *so good*. Like it’s the only thing holding you to the world.

“Good dolly. Breathe in for me, okay? Deep breath. And now out, out, out…good job, Dolly. Deep breaths. Now, when the visuals are pink, you breathe in, okay? And when they’re blue, you breathe out.”

Light flickers to life in the helmet’s visor.

“Pink, in.”

A dizzying array of pink-tinted images flash through your vision—cherry blossoms, a spread vulva, a tube of pink lipstick, a gasping mouth, a neon sign, a swollen cockhead leaking precum, a peach, an anus flared around a jeweled plug, a field of tulips, a dildo buried in a squirting cunt, a blooming rose—as you inhale.

“Blue, out.”

You exhale slowly to a cascade of blue-tinted images—a cloudy sky, clamped nipples, forget-me-nots, a beautifully-bruised ass, morning glories, a caged cock trying to swell past its bonds, a cresting wave, a clothespin-clamped clit, a bluebird’s wing, a mouth spread around a ring gag, a galactic nebula.

“Good dolly. Again. Pink, in. Blue, out.”

You obey the voice for several more iterations, until it’s only natural to inhale to pink, exhale to blue.

Then the voice continues.

“In a little while, the Nurse will take your gag out and you’ll practice repeating after me. Until then, all you have to do is breathe and watch and listen, okay, Dolly? Breathe in to pink, out to blue. Watch and listen.”

The cycling images switch to video. Every few seconds, the filter over the video changes from pink to blue, and your lungs obey the color shift completely without thought already. In to pink, out to blue.

You watch the screen inside your helmet raptly as a series of pornographic clips flash by:

A gorgeous feminine figure in a maid uniform with her legs up, wailing in agonized pleasure as her rear entrance is stretched open by two cocks at once and her own hard cock bounces, leaking, against her apron. Two men hold her up, hammering at her hole with jostling cocks. One paws at her breasts, ripping her uniform to reveal them. The other wraps his hand around the maid’s cock and begins to jerk her off. She throws her head back and screams as her cock spurts all over her uniform; the men don’t stop, continuing to fuck her as she she goes slack with boneless pleasure in their arms. One cums, his spunk leaking out around the other’s cock as the remaining stud lifts the maid up himself and fucks into her stretched hole furiously, making her wail and kick her legs as the overstimulation takes hold. The spent man shoves his sticky cock into the maid’s wailing mouth and holds her head down til she gags and sucks it clean. The second man cums hard, slamming the maid down onto his cock several times before pulling out and shoving her into the arms of the first man, the one she’s sucking. Without pause, the second man kneels down behind the maid and begins licking the mess of cum out of her leaking hole.

A pretty woman in a princess dress and a tiara is bent over the arm of a velvet chaise, her bare bum in the air. Another woman, dressed like a young schoolgirl, is giggling while forcing the legs of a Barbie doll into the princess’ pussy. Another doll is sticking out of the princess’ asshole, buried to her narrow waist. The princess is weeping prettily while her holes are played with, the schoolgirl gleefully forcing repeated agonized, squirting orgasms out of her living princess doll with the Barbie’s buried legs.

A young woman in a babydoll nightgown and thin panties is bound splayed to a bed by her wrists and ankles. There’s a pacifier gag in her mouth, and her hair is braided into pigtails. Another woman pets between the babydoll’s spread legs, then slaps the babydoll’s pussy, watching smugly as the panties go dark with moisture. The woman slaps again and again, making the babydoll scream into her paci and jerk against her bonds. The panties are soaked. The woman presses a large wand vibrator to the babydoll’s panties and turns it on, grinding it into the abused flesh mercilessly and giggling while the babydoll bucks and cries as the sensations shake through her.

A glamorous woman in a slinky dress and stiletto heels bends over a railing above a party, large breasts spilling out of her dress while an owl-masked man fondles them from behind. A hawk-masked woman hikes the doll’s skirt up around her waist, revealing a plump ass with a jeweled plug in it. The owl-masked man pulls the plug out without ceremony and shoves his thin cock in its place, making the doll gasp prettily. He fucks her fast and leaves her hole dripping with his cum before another man, this one in a falcon mask, takes his place. This cock is shorter and thicker, and the doll’s leg kicks up involuntarily when he shoves into the sticky mess the owl man left behind. Eight more men fill the doll’s ass with cum before the hawk-masked woman pushes the tenth one off the doll. Rather than giving the doll a rest, the hawk-masked woman plugs the doll’s ass back up with the cum inside it, then pulls the doll back against her chest and begins to kiss her neck and play with her dollcock. The doll’s cock is small and mostly soft—a tcock, maybe, or a clitty, and it’s unclear what’s below it—but it’s only a few moments before it’s twitching and leaking in the hawk woman’s hand. The doll cums messily, spurting all over her own slinky dress and the hawk-masked woman’s fist. The doll licks the woman’s hand clean before laying down on the floor, where the hawk woman hikes up her own skirt and kneels to straddle the doll’s face while all the masked partygoers look on.

A doll in a frilly lolita dress lays across a woman’s lap in the backseat of a car. A man is driving up front, ignoring the women except to touch his cock with one hand while he drives. The woman’s hand moves steadily between the doll’s legs. The doll’s hands are covering her mouth as she tries and fails to stay quiet. She babbles and begs as the woman’s hand keeps moving under the doll’s frilly petticoats. Her face is streaked with tears. The woman beams down at her and strokes the doll’s teary face with one hand while the other continues its task between the doll’s legs. The camera pans down to show a long string of anal beads, each of increasing size, trailing out of the doll’s ass. The woman is still working them in; it’s clear she has no intention of stopping until they’re all inside. The doll’s pussy is soaked and untouched save for the screwclamp on her swollen clit. Occasionally, the woman flicks the clamp, and the doll screams and her pussy lips get wetter.

“You’re going to be just like those dolls,” the voice murmurs in your ear between each clip. “You can feel it, can’t you? You need to be played with until you know what you want. Don’t you want to be played with, dolly?”

The probe in your ass feels so good, but it’s not enough. Your hole aches for more. You want what those dolls were getting.

“Open your mouth, dolly; the Nurse is going to take your gag out.”

You work your jaw once the obstacle is removed; it only aches a little.

“Repeat after me until I say otherwise. Ready?”

You swallow thickly. Your voice sounds distant to your own ears. “Ready.”

Another video flashes in, still alternating your breathing between pink and blue. In this one, a doll in a slip and bloomers is having her hair done by another doll. A third doll paints the first one’s nails, and a fourth is doing the first’s makeup. Like it’s a spa day just for her.

“I’m a perfect doll,” the voice coaxes.

“I’m a perfect doll,” you echo dumbly, watching the beautiful girls take care of each other so tenderly. You want to be touched like that.

“I live to serve the Doll Dreamworld.”

“I live to serve the Doll Dreamworld.”

The doll on the screen is done being prepared, and her preparations’ purpose is revealed: it’s her display day! She’s led, in nothing but a silken dressing gown, to a display window in the Welcome Hall. Her fellow dolls help her onto her display stand, helping her up into the seat of the fuckmachine and guiding its probes to each of her carefully-prepared holes.

“I want to be used for the pleasure of my playmates.”

“I want to be used for the pleasure of my playmates.”

A long, thin dildo with measuring markers is lined up with the doll’s perfectly painted mouth, clearly to show off her throat training. A stubby plug anchored her ass to the machine, unmoving except to vibrate once the machine is turned on, while an absurdly huge, curved dildo is lined up with the lips of her pre-slicked cunt. The head of a large wand vibrator is pressed firmly, inescapably, against her clit; any struggle away from the probes will push it tighter to her clit. Her limbs are strapped down by her fellow dolls, the curtains on the display window are opened, and the machine is turned on.

“I need to be used to feel pleasure.”

“I need to be used to feel pleasure.”

The doll’s whole body arches with a shout as the fuckmachine begins to move, its various limbs beginning their mechanized movements. The doll moans and gags around the cock sliding down her throat, but powers through, tipping her head back and swallowing hard around the five inch mark. Her eyes roll back in her head as the dildo in her pussy bottoms out, and the one in her throat slides in and out more easily as she gets distracted by the motion in her cunt.

“I need to be used. I need to be owned.”

“I need to be used. I need to be owned.”

The doll on the screen cums with a gurgled cry around the dildo in her throat, but the machine pays absolutely no heed. It continues to fuck her mercilessly through her orgasm. The doll’s legs tremble and her arms pull against her bonds with the force of the second orgasm that rocks through her.

“I don’t need to think, I just need to play.”

“I don’t need to think, I just need to play.”

The doll on the screen eventually has to tip her head to the side so the throat dildo gives her a break, but she made it all the way down to the 8 inch mark first, and the pride shows on her face. She slumps in her bonds as the dildo hammers away at her pussy, drawing yet another orgasm from her. There have been so many now. Her thighs are drenched in her own squirt, and the dildo is smeared with her cream. She looks like the image of pure bliss.

“I want the Nurse to help me cum now.”

You mean it *desperately* when you repeat it. “I want the Nurse to help me cum now.”

The assistance is immediate; the Nurse’s efficient hands line up a soft pad of ridged, vibrating silicone with your front parts, pressing it firmly over them and strapping it into place before turning it on. The Nurse taps away at her tablet, and the electrodes all over your body begin to tingle. Not quite painful, just—aaaah, just *something*.

“I want the Nurse to make me cum three times before she lets me stop.”

You shiver and rub against the pad, already humming gently against your sensitive flesh. “I want the Nurse to make me cum three times before she lets me stop.” You know it’s going to be too much, too fast. You can’t wait.

The probe in your ass begins to buzz softly, and the vibration on the front pad increases.

The image on the screen in your visor changes again:

A doll is strapped down, naked, helpless, to a medical chair in the middle of a small cubicle of a room, a visored helmet on her head. Her legs are splayed up and open but her privates are covered by a vibrating pad. A thick anal probe holds her in place on the medical chair. Electrodes and wires hooked up to what might be a TENS unit protrude from her everywhere. A curvy Nurse is holding a tablet with a series of slides and dials; clearly a control panel. The doll on the table shivers when she recognizes herself. The Nurse giggles and pets the doll’s thigh; you feel the touch.

“I’m a perfect doll and I’m ready to play.”

You can’t help but arch and whimper as the Nurse begins to fiddle with the controls. Your pleasure begins to build, coiling low in your belly. “I’m a p-perfect doll,” you moan, grinding into the vibrations. “And—a-and I’m ready to—ahh—play.”

The Nurse beams down at the doll.

“When I cum for the Nurse, my dollhood begins.”

You can feel it building already, the first orgasm, far too soon. It’ll be too much by the third one; you can’t wait. “When I cum for the Nurse, my dollhood begins.”

The electrodes increase their strange sensations across your skin, arcing through your flesh, while the probe and pad hum against your most sensitive places. The Nurse watches coolly as the doll on the screen begins to twitch and wriggle under the onslaught of sensations. The doll on the screen wails and arches beautifully as she cums, the sound ripping itself from your throat.

To be continued…? Send me more prompts and I’ll write more for you! 💖

[kikufuku01]

I Love You Always

Sukuna x Reader

Part 10 Dancing on Your Own ♡ ♡ ♡ Part 11 Toxic in You series m. list

Reblogs likes and comments are appreciated!

Taglist is open, just message me if you'd like to be tagged in upcoming posts! Must be 18+!

It hasn’t been the same since. Sukuna acts like he’s fine with you when you’re around the others, but now his eyes don’t linger on you. He barely starts a conversation with you, shit, he talks to Kazuya more than he does with you. Kaede thought it was weird but you told her it was nothing. Just friends outgrowing each other due to hanging out too much in the past. They don’t seem exclusive yet either, so it’s safe to say that they’re still talking? You don’t know, but you’ve been trying to drown yourself in Kazuya as much as possible. You’ve been ditching Kaede’s group invites, saying that you and Kazuya were already busy, and when he’d try to join them, you would tell him to give them some space.

Another thing is, you’re completely dreading today. It just feels like it’s gonna be a bad day. You’re pushing the cart around the store with an empty mind while your mom adds things in. She’s on the phone with your dad, talking about work or whatever, so you’re just left alone to follow aimlessly.

“Did you want this, sweetheart?”

She’s holding a pack of Himemaru rice crackers in the air to get your attention. You barely look at them, “sure.”

Just like that, she drops them in the cart and continues her conversation on the phone. Nothing in particular catches your attention since you don’t seem to have much of an appetite lately. You wouldn’t call it depression either, that’d be going overboard. You just miss how things were before.

Your mom taps your arm, “are you alright these days? You’re not grabbing all the snacks you usually eat.”

“I’m on a diet,” you lie, turning into the next aisle.

She stops you right there and crosses her arms, a worried look in her eyes. They search you for answers before she opens her mouth again, “you know, before I was afraid you were eating too much and now…”

Her nervous smile quivers, “you’re not eating and it’s a drastic change. These are also signs of pregnancy, sweetheart. You’ve been going out a lot and staying out during late hours, I’m afraid of what you’ve been doing.”

“Mom–”

“I’m not stupid. I was your age once too, you know. I know that you’re having fun, but I just wish for you to be safe. Your father hasn’t caught on, but I am concerned. How about after we shop, I take you to the clinic to get a checkup?”

“I haven’t done those things yet, so there’s nothing to be scared of. We’ll just waste our time going over there.”

The attitude in your tone takes your mom by surprise but she nods in defeat, “you sound like you’re telling the truth, then.”

You stick your tongue out at her to lighten the mood, “let’s just finish this up and go back home.”

♡ ♡ ♡

Your dad has been walking on eggshells around you as well over the last few months. He doesn’t speak to you any different, but maybe he too can pick up on your shift in mood. Is it really that drastic? Surely you’ve always been a grump, so what’s the big difference?

“I’ll take those,” he says as he takes the groceries from your hands.

You allow him to take them and follow him into the kitchen to help sort out the items. Your mom also comes in to help, leaving out what she’ll make for dinner.

“Will you be joining us?”

You look at your dad with a shrug, “I think I have plans with someone, so I’m not sure.”

He juts his lips but nods understandably, “you are going out with a female friend or male?”

“It’s a mix of both genders. We’re a group of people.”

“Shouldn’t you introduce us so that we know who you’re with?”

“It’s not necessary, so no.”

You give him stern eyes and head towards your bedroom. You’re annoyed by people constantly prying into your life. You don’t want them to meet Kazuya because they’ll misunderstand what he is to you, and you most certainly do not want them to meet someone like Sukuna. They’ll only judge, because that’s all they do. Especially your mom.

Since you’re bored, you decide to change out of what you’re currently wearing and put something else on. “I’ll be back later,” you shout as you close the door behind you.

Your feet guide you through the area you first saw Sukuna. He’s not there anymore, obviously. The spot is now taken over by a guitarist, playing his heart out to make some extra cash. The tune sounds nice to your ears, but it does strike a couple of heartstrings. A grin appears on your lips as you dig into your wallet, grabbing a single twenty. You diligently place the bill in his guitar case and back up into the rest of the crowd again to listen.

The man sends you a gracious smile and tips his head at you, “thank you~”

Your hands come out in front of you and wave, “don’t mention it.”

The man leans towards a smaller build, with soft fluffy hair and delicate looking hands. He’s pretty, but you can tell he’s fairly young, possibly mid-teens. He’s completely different from Sukuna– why are you even comparing the two? You snap out of your own thoughts and turn around to leave the crowd. Probably wasn’t a wise choice to revisit such a nostalgic area.

You shove your airpods in and blast music to drown out the real world while you walk to the next destination. It doesn’t take you too long, but you push through the doors and approach the hostess, “hi, I’m sorry, do you know if Mastuyama Kazuya is working today?”

She beams brightly and bows a bit, “oh yes, his shift should be over in a few hours. Let me get him for you, he’s in the back.”

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t know you were coming,” he greets, coming out from the back.

“Just thought I’d visit you for a bit,” you reason, “sorry, is it rush hour for you?”

Kazuya titters softly, “you’re fine, the kitchen can handle it.”

You push your hair behind your ear as you speak, “I’ll just be a second. I know you’re busy, so are we still going to the movies later tonight?”

“About that…” he trails off.

He wipes the sweat from his forehead with his forearms and pouts a bit, “I must be famous today. Sukuna and Kaede came to visit not too long ago.”

“Did they?”

You’re not sure as to why he’d bring them up, but you listen anyway.

Kazuya gestures towards a table, “yeah, they finished their meal like half an hour ago.”

“What do they have to do with our plans later?”

“Matsuyama, we need you back on the stove,” an employee says as he pokes his head out.

Kazuya nods hurriedly at him, “I’ll be right there.” He gently pinches your cheek, “they invited us to the club tonight and I kind of agreed without thinking. Don’t be too mad, okay? I gotta go, so I’ll see you tonight. See ya!”

“But–”

A fat sigh blows past your lips at the sight of him rushing back into the kitchen. Damn, you knew today felt shitty for a reason. Clubbing? With Sukuna? In a place where alcohol is involved? Not that you have to drink, but the environment is giving you flashbacks of that night, and it’s not bright. You will admit, there are times when you have dreams of that night and it drives you crazy! It’s that guilty conscience of yours…

Maybe you can find a way out of this, right?

♡ ♡ ♡

Kaede keeps blowing up your phone about tonight’s plan. She wants to know what you’ll wear, how you’ll do your hair etc. You’re not answering her much, just giving her short responses. Do you sound like a bitch? Probably. Do you care? Not really. Everything in your closet seems too bland and stupid but you managed to figure something out. It wasn’t anything too flashy, since you still have to see your parents, but enough to get you into the club.

You’re outside the gate, waiting for Sukuna’s car. He decided it’d be cheaper and safest to just use his chauffeur and who are you to argue against that? There’s a mix of emotions that you’re feeling as you wait, but the most defined one is anger and irritation. You don’t want to see Sukuna and Kaede flirt, mainly because you’ve been getting those flashbacks. Shit, you can barely look them in the eyes.

Right as you’re thinking this, you see the familiar black car pull up. It stops right in front of you and the passenger window rolls down.

“Get in,” he spits out coldly.

You barely catch it. That’s how low it is. Loud enough just for you to hear. He’s not even looking at you, he’s just staring straight ahead, and you want to smack that big ol’ head of his. You want to shove your hand through the window and fuck up his stupid, gelled back hair. Does he realize how stupid he looks? Okay, he doesn’t look stupid at all, you’re just being petty, but that’s okay!

You groan and open the back door to see both Kazuya and Kaede. They smile at you and shower you in compliments, ones that go in your ear and out the other. You’re only focusing on the back of his stupid pink hair. He got his roots retouched, how conceited. Ugh, and his cologne is too overwhelming. It makes your stomach churn.

“You doing okay?”

Kazuya’s eyebrows are pointed upwards in a worried way as he examines your sour face. Upon realization, you fix your face and hum, “peachy.”

You look at what Kaede is wearing and you instantly feel insecure. The feelings you feel, it’s the same as when you introduced Kaede to Sukuna. Why do you keep feeling this way? It’s annoying. Her hair is loosely curled, her makeup is done smokey, complimenting the dress she has on and her heels are sexy and strappy. Her charisma is even crazier tonight.

“You look sexy,” you compliment, sending a wink her way, regardless of the bad feelings inside.

Kaede giggles and shies away, “stop~ you’re teasing me.”

Your focus then turns towards Kazuya and your fingers land on the sleeves of his shirt, “you look great too, Kazuya.”

No one sees the red hues that glare through the rearview mirror, you’re all much too focused on your own little conversations, blabbing about this and that. Sukuna’s jaw tightens at the sight of you and he ignores the way your laugh sends shivers down his spine. You’re a fucking ungrateful bitch, that’s what you are.

Thankfully the ride isn’t too long. You’re all dropped off in the middle of the street and left to wait in line for the club. Kazuya is walking in front with Sukuna while Kaede holds your arms for support. It wasn’t too wise of you guys to pregame in the car, but it already happened, so.

“Where are you going?”

You call out with a glare and Sukuna barely looks back at you, “to the front.”

Kazuya spits out short apologies to the people you’re all cutting and taps Sukuna, “shouldn’t we be waiting in the back?”

“I work here,” Sukuna says, smiling his best.

Oh, that’s right. Sukuna works as a bartender at a club. This must be the place. Why didn’t it click in your head sooner?

Kaede’s grip on your arm is so tight that you feel like your arm will snap off. You’re about to say something to her, but Sukuna reaches out for her and takes her from you, “come here.”

He greets the bouncer and whispers something in their ear. They don’t even hesitate to let you all through, and as crazy as it is, you smile at Kazuya with excitement and raise your eyebrows, “I guess we don’t gotta pay.”

“Does that mean we get free drinks too?” Kazuya jokes, pulling you closer to him as the music begins to blare louder.

Sukuna chuckles, “that, you gotta pay for.”

You promised yourself not to drink too much, in fear you might slip up. Kaede and Sukuna, however, have been taking shots left and right. Their tab must be huge. Kazuya is the only one completely sober, but he’s having fun regardless, dancing with no shame. He’s fun to be with, at a time like this. You’re trying too, you are.

In order to distract yourself, you continue to dance with Kazuya, but not in a sensual way. Just goofy moves and whatnot. You’re not too sure how long it’s been, but maybe you guys have been here for two hours already. You’ve lost the other two in the crowd, so it helps to keep you distracted.

There’s just one thing… luck is never on your fucking side!

Kazuya reaches into his back pocket and leans towards your ear, shouting, “I gotta take this!”

You follow him towards the bathroom area and wait for him there to avoid separation. You pray that it’s a useless phone call, but something in your gut tells you otherwise. Approximately six minutes pass and Kazuya comes back out with a sorry smile.

There’s dread in your eyes.

“No, what’s wrong?”

He thins out his lips and gives you a soft caress before leaning towards your ear to shout, “sorry, y/n, but I just got a call from work. Someone had to go home suddenly and no one else could cover their shift.”

“But it’s almost eleven–”

His eyes shut, “I know, I know, but our restaurant stays open until 1am and they don’t have another chef. I’m sorry, y/n.”

You bite your tongue and huff, “it can’t be helped.”

Kazuya frowns too, since he feels sorry for having to suddenly abandon you, “I can help you search for the others before I leave–”

“Just go,” you blurt, your chest swelling with the action.

When you see the hurt in his face, you apologize, “sorry, it’s not your fault. It’d be better if you arrived over there quickly. I’ll look for them myself.”

You’re both shouting over the music, but you can hear each other clearly. He looks around the club once more before pulling you into a hug, “I’ll see you later, y/n.”

“Yeah,” you mutter against his chest.

♡ ♡ ♡

So, you might’ve had a few more shots. Just three more. Your vision isn’t fucked up, but your anger has subsided. Oh, you’re also dancing way more, now that you’re here by yourself, but it’s still fun. You get a couple of guys and girls here and there, but they know the drill, they don’t stay too long. In all honesty, you’ve kind of forgotten all about the other two people you came with.

That was, until… You’re shouting over the music with a random group of people you’ve found. It’s a mix of both women and men, mainly consisting of women. They know how to party, how to have fun. You watched them take body shots off of each other and when they offered you, you quickly denied, “it’s okay, I can’t get too drunk!”

“Awh, maybe next time then,” one of the men suggests, giving you a cute pout.

Though he suggests it, neither of you bother to exchange socials; his words nothing but empty. You sway to the loud music and look around, your eyes scanning over hundreds of faces but… you see him. You see him anywhere. You see him in the midst of the crowd, no one but him. It’s not because of his bright pink hair, it’s not because of his tattoos. You see him because he is Ryomen Sukuna.

All of your movements still instantly as you watch what’s in front of you. He’s stuck in the middle of a crowd with rowdy people, but in his arms is a very drunk Kaede. Her eyes are closed as she grinds her hips against his, her arms lifted and wrapped around his neck as a way to help support herself, even though he’s got both palms planted on her hips. Their faces are so close that it’s almost like they’ll kiss, and it sparks a fire in your chest. You feel it all at once while your head spins at the sight. Your chest stings, your heart falls, your face feels heated, and your heart is pounding so hard against you that it hurts. There’s a stupid, fat lump in your throat as you continue to watch them dance with each other.

His expensive silk shirt is unbuttoned, like always, and you see the way Kaede’s nose dips closer to his bare skin. Will she lick him? Sniff him? They’re dancing so sensually. Are they both drunk? Is he taking advantage of her? Are they together? Have they done more than this? A million questions race through your head as you stomp through the crowd, not caring that you rudely bump into people.

With hate filled eyes, you march over and shove a random girl out of your way. You’re so focused on your own heightened emotions that you don’t care if you get into a fight. She glares at you, “what the fuck is your problem?!”

You ignore her and continue to push through. Without thinking, you grab Sukuna’s wrist and yank him away from Kaede, making them both stumble.

“What the fuck are you two doing?! Are you fucking out of your minds?!”

The poor girl is much too intoxicated to understand the situation, only reaching out to grab Sukuna’s hand while her head leans on his back for support. He looks down at you coldly, “what?”

Fuck, you’re too stunned to speak now. Where did all that anger go? It seems to have disappeared the moment he laid eyes on you. His eyes pierce through you so harshly. His nostrils flare as his patience runs out and he steps back to grab Kaede by her waist. He then proceeds to use his other hand to grab at your forearm harshly, choosing to drag you guys to the bar. He quickly waves over one of the bartenders, “this girl is with me. Make sure to have someone watch over her in the back room.”

“Don’t take too long, can’t guarantee that boss will let her stay.”

Sukuna sighs in annoyance, “tell him she’s with me. He won’t care.”

He doesn’t wait for the other guy’s response and continues to drag you. You’re a bit scared with how shady the door looks, but he drags you out and you realize that you guys are in an alleyway. Sukuna’s chin rises, “what the fuck was that all about?”

You glare up at him as he continues, “I was hitting it off with Kaede. Why’d you do all of that?”

“I’m worried,” you stupidly admit.

You hate how weak you sound. You hate how unconfident you’re feeling from just his gaze.

Sukuna scoffs out loud at you, “worried about what? Isn’t this what you wanted?”

He steps closer to you, “for you to be with Kazuya without needing to worry about me? You set me up with Kaede and now you’re concerned?”

His face leans down, hovering over yours as a petty smirk draws itself on his lips. Your heart feels like it’s about to explode. You raise your chin pridefully, scoffing at his attitude, even though you had one first, “jeez, you must really like her. I didn’t think you’d be that upset about it.”

“Well, I am,” he quickly replies. There’s spite laced in his voice.

You blink a few times at his confirmation, and it seems to calm your sudden burst of anger. What used to be irritation morphs into something of shame and you lower your face a bit, “sorry for acting out then. Go back to her.”

You want to leave. You want to go home and cry. You want to be anywhere but here. You’re already turning around to walk away from him but he calls out angrily, “we’re not done talking, y/n.”

You hate the way he says your name.

“I think we are,” You’re only a few steps away from him, “you can go back to being touchy with her.”

Sukuna groans to himself, his voice becoming more stern, “I said we weren’t done talking. Stay still and look me in the eyes.”

You turn around to face him, “it’s fine, it was a spur of the moment.”

You motion towards the heavy door, “let’s just go back, she’s probably worried about you.”

With heavy footsteps, you try to get past him. Sukuna has other plans. He stops you and steps in front of you again, “y/n, I’m serious. Tell me what that shit was about. You had no fucking right to do that, to her or me.”

“I–”

Why are you getting choked up? It fucking sucks. This shit fucking sucks! What the fuck are you even doing? Why were you so mad in the first place?

Sukuna’s expression mocks you, a sneer on his face, “what, you can’t talk now? All of a sudden, the words can’t come out of your throat?”

He brings his hand up to your face and his thumb grazes your bottom lip gently, “you seemed to do just fine earlier when you were telling us off.”

There’s a stinging sensation in the corner of your eyes. Ah shit, don’t tell me it’s tears. What are they? Angry tears? Sad? Hurt?

Sukuna chuckles deeply, his thumb still on your lip, “don’t tell me you’re gonna cry now.”

“You’re a fucking asshole,” you say as you swat his hand away from you.

You quickly spin around to walk, hoping that you get to the end of the alley quickly. Sukuna’s heavy feet only take two steps forward before stopping, “get back here, right now.”

When you don’t listen, he raises his voice, “Ichihara y/n, I’m not playing with you.”

The seriousness in his tone has you stilling. Your mind is yelling at you to keep going, so why did you stop? Again, you turn around to face him, “I don’t know, Sukuna. I don’t know why I did that.”

Sukuna’s long strides get him close to you again and there’s a heavy frown on his lips, “yes, you do. I know you do.”

He heaves a sigh, mostly for himself, and then stares into your eyes. For a brief second, there’s worry in them.

“Look, let’s just take a deep breath together, okay?” he suggests, raising a brow.

Without needing to countdown, you both inhale and exhale together. He hums expectantly, “now tell me what’s wrong.”

The reason why you were so angry? Well, you don’t want to believe it.

“Sukuna, I–” the tears fall past your eyes, cascading down your cheeks, “I’m really jealous.”

His eyes widened. They widened and then his gaze turned into something bitter, “why are you saying this to me?”

He backs away from you, “why are you telling me this? Why now?”

More tears fall as you struggle to swallow the lump in your throat, “I’m really jealous when you’re with Kaede, Sukuna.”

“Don’t say that shit to me,” he spits out, “what about Kazuya, hm? Weren’t you so sure you liked him? Why are you saying this all of a sudden?”

Your eyes turn cold as well, looking at him with hate, “I didn’t realize I liked you this much!”

Sukuna’s jaw clenches at your confession, his fists balling so tight that his knuckles turn white.

You continue with a shaky voice, “I wasn’t sure if what we had was platonic or not–” your voice breaks, “so I chose Kazuya because he was the safest option.”

He shakes his head at you, seething as he does so, “you had months to figure it out, y/n. Months.”

Your heart throbs.

“Okay, I get it! You’re mad and I feel stupid and embarrassed, so just go back to Kaede already.”

You turn around and begin to speed walk, not caring if you just ruined your entire relationship with Sukuna. He, however, has other plans, choosing to chase after you. He spins you around violently, “no, don’t try to pull this shit on me. You’re fucking manipulating me.”

“I’m not!”

You try to pry his hands off of you with your own but you’re too weak. He won’t budge no matter how much you try.

You weakly shove him away, only moving yourself with the action, “I told you why I made a scene and now you’re just upset! I’m embarrassed, and I would just like to go home.”

Sukuna’s phone makes a notification sound and he quickly pulls his phone out to look at the text. He releases you with a glare, “Kaede texted me, I’m going back.”

It takes everything in him to not hug you, to not comfort you and kiss you. He’s so angry with you. You’re hurt? Well so is he. His chest heaves heavily while he tries to calm his heart, “get home safe.”

“I don’t need to hear that from you,” you spit out, looking away from him.

Sukuna clicks his tongue, “and I didn’t need to hear that shit from you either but look what happened.”

He shoves his phone back into his pocket, “whether you choose to text me when you get home or not is on you, I don’t care.” He turns around, “see ya.”

♡ ♡ ♡

You don’t remember how you got home. All you know is that you turned your phone off after catching a cab. Gosh, you’re so stupid. All of this shit is your fault. If you weren’t so stupid, indecisive and moody then none of this would’ve happened. You were too embarrassed to show yourself in front of your parents, so you crawled through your window.

After lazily locking it, you plopped down onto the bed and curled up into a ball. All of these raw emotions make you feel ugly inside and it hurts a lot. You see flashes of the look in his eyes and yours close immediately, refusing to relive the moment.

You knew about your feelings. You knew this whole time; you just didn’t want to believe it. Now that you’ve told him, you feel much smaller in the world. Your heart feels like it’s been smashed to bits and pieces and don’t even get started on Kaede. How will you ever look her in the eyes again? No, what will you say to Kazuya? He’s not the one your heart yearns for, he’s far from it, no matter how much you try. He’s such a sweet man, but he’s not who you want.

After lying in bed for a few hours, you pushed yourself up and gathered fresh clothes. You heard your parents go to bed hours ago but you were too drained to move earlier. You strip and wait for the water to turn hot, getting in once you’re satisfied with the heat. The thing that sucks is the fact that you can’t focus on anything. All you see is the disgust and hatred in his eyes.

You feel dirty.

A soft whimper falls from your lips as you begin to scrub your body harshly, hoping to get rid of the feeling. No matter how much you scrub and scratch, you can’t get the dirty feeling off. If Kaede found out about your feelings, would she hate you too? This is exactly why you refused to believe in your feelings for Sukuna. She’s always shown her interest in him; she was never discreet. You let yourself sink and hug your knees while the water pelts you.

You’re the worst kind of friend. Who in the fucking world begs the man that their friend is interested in to take them to a party, proceeds to get drunk together and then fucking makes out, almost leading to sex? Only bad friends. The worst part is you begging him to keep quiet about it, because you knew it was wrong. How dare you continue to hang out with her and act as if nothing ever happened. But, you’re a coward. You can’t fess up. You don’t want to lose another friend. You let yourself cry for a few more minutes before sucking it up and ending your shower.

The bed feels colder than usual. You feel like the loneliest person in the world. It’s funny though, since you did this to yourself. You’ll continue to talk to Kaede until she eventually finds out, because you’re a coward like that. Yeah, that’s what you are.

♡ ♡ ♡

You wake up with a headache. It must be from all the stupid crying but you push yourself up and force yourself to get through the day. You still haven’t turned your phone on, as you’re afraid of what you’ll see. Your everyday morning routine is done with ease, even with a blank mind. When you roam into the dining area, your mom jumps up.

“I thought you weren’t home. We waited all night for you,” she says while adding breakfast to a plate that’s now meant for you.

“I came home quietly.”

You take the plate from her and place it at the table, moving to help her set up everything else. She squints her judgy eyes at you, “your eyes are red and puffy.”

“Oh, she might’ve just had fun last night.”

Your dad’s voice interferes and he pops into the room with a smile. He’s obviously trying to get her off of your back, but she continues to poke at you, “or she was crying. What happened?”

“I drank a lot.”

Your unfiltered comment has your parents at a loss for words and you laugh, “I’m being responsible so please stop treating me like I’m some child.”

The breakfast that your mom cooked might’ve been really tasty but you can’t seem to taste a single thing. It’s all bland to you, sadly. You feel their eyes on you. It’s annoying. With wavering patience, you place your utensils down and stand, “I’m done.”

Their whispered argument goes on deaf ears as you walk back into your room to get ready. You do your makeup as quickly as possible and then turn your phone on. There’s a message or two from Kaede and she’s apologizing for getting too drunk. Does she even know what happened last night? You don’t have the heart to respond, so you turn off your read notifications and leave her unanswered. Kazuya’s messages are just him apologizing for leaving early. You give him a short response but that’s all. Sukuna hasn’t messaged you at all, and that’s something you should probably get used to.

Anyways, you need to end things with Kazuya. You can’t continue to lead him on like this, and you should probably tell him the truth. It’s the least you can do for him. You asked to meet up with him after work and he agreed in an instance. Now all that’s left is the waiting game.

It’s not as easy to distract yourself when you’re panicking over what to say and how you’ll say it. He’s such a sweetheart that you might break and cry while telling him everything. He’d probably even question why you’re the one crying when it should be him… Oh god, you seriously need to pull yourself together before you make any situation worse.

For hours, you practiced what you would say to Kazuya so you wouldn’t stutter for words. You looked into a mirror and trained your facial expressions so that you’d be less tense in front of him. You even imagined the pained expression that he would hold when you broke the news to him, but you still felt horrible when doing so. Kazuya truly is a soft soul and a great friend. You’d hate to lose him, but you know he’ll be gone. You’ll be left alone for a long time too, since Kaede and Sukuna won’t stay by you after this either.

It’s already a little past 6pm and you’re on your way to meet Kazuya. He chose a small coffee shop since he wanted some caffeine. You stop in front of the door and take a deep breath, preparing yourself for the last time. Just like before, you force a smile and pull the door open, the little bell dinging above your head.

“Welcome in,” you hear the employee greet. You suck in a breath and lock eyes with Kazuya who waves you down. He looks different today, almost as if he knows something. Yes, he’s smiling, but it’s forlorn. You walk to him and sit down, nervously accepting the warm drink he offers you.

“I went ahead and ordered for you too,” he says while retracting his hand.

“Thanks.”

It’s a dry reply. Oh god, you feel terrible. Kazuya taps the table with the pads of his fingers, “listen, about last night, I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head, maybe a little too fast, “it’s fine, seriously. I–”

He cuts you off, “you wanted to talk to me, I know. So, what is it?”

“Uh…”

Shit! All those hours of practicing went to fucking waste! Why can’t you speak up? Are you just stupid and useless? Is that it? He deserves to know the truth, so why can’t you stop being a coward and speak up? You called him to talk, so talk.

Kazuya’s hand slides across the table and he gently holds your index finger. Only that finger. You appreciate how he still respects your space and boundaries, even after all those months of you basically leading him on. He rubs his finger over your smooth nail polish and he shoots you a kind smile, “you have pretty hands.”

“You always say that.”

A grin stretches as you recall the many times he’s complimented them. No matter what color or length, he’d always comment on it. The memories are bittersweet as well, and you’re a bit upset at yourself for even smiling at a time like this. Kazuya’s other hand brushes through his hair, revealing his forehead as he does so.

“It’s about time you smile at me, timid girl.”

Your face turns red, mainly from embarrassment, “I’m sorry, Kazuya.”

He lets go of your finger and grabs his cup, drinking the warm beverage. When he’s done, he looks back at you, “It’s alright, y/n. I think I know what this is about.”

“You do?”

Your voice is small. You hate it. How can Kazuya keep smiling at you?

“I’ve been trying for months, y/n. I’m not clueless.”

Your head falls, “I’m sorry.”

The fact that you don’t deny him only proves his theory. Kazuya didn’t know for sure, but now his questions and doubts are confirmed. He tries not to let it show and instead keeps smiling at you, “I told you that I noticed how you changed here and there over time, but I didn’t want to bother you about it in case you were also figuring yourself out.”

Kazuya becomes quiet for a short while but then continues, “I didn’t want to believe it at first, but after I saw Sukuna’s wallpaper, everything just kind of clicked. You’re not a good liar either, y/n, but I like that about you. It makes you kind of cute.”

You laugh again, because you don’t know what to say. All you know how to say is ‘sorry’ and you’re sure that Kazuya doesn’t want to keep hearing that from you.

Everything about him is calm, from the way he looks at you, to the way he speaks. He seems completely fine on the outside, but he’s screaming at himself internally. He wants to break down and cry because he does truly like you, but what good is it if the person you’re interested in just can’t find it within themselves to like you back. His right leg bounces quickly under the table, but you don’t know that.

Kazuya suddenly leans over the table to tap your hand, mainly to get your attention, “I really liked you and I hoped that we could work out, but I understand. Thank you for trying anyway, y/n.”

There’s a small, teeny tiny weight that lifts from your chest, “is this really okay with you, Kazuya?”

“Mmm… no hard feelings, promise.”

Poor guy… he’s flashing you such a pretty smile but you can see the tears welling in his eyes. You only have yourself to blame for this. If you were honest from the beginning then he wouldn’t have gotten hurt like this. You tilt your head up at Kazuya when he pulls on your finger.

“It’s always been him, huh?”

Does he seriously want an answer to that? It would only hurt him more… You see the expectant expression though, so you nod with shame, “I didn’t want it to be him, I swear. He just snuck his way in.”

Kazuya lets your finger go and slowly slides his hand back towards himself, “but does he like you?”

He already knows the answer. Even a blind man can see just how much you two pine for each other; he just wishes you were more honest with yourselves.

You clench the cup a bit tighter, “I’m sorry.”

His expression softens quickly, “for what?”

“I’m sorry for not seeing you in a romantic way, Kazuya.”

Oh my god. That’s the worst kind of thing to say. Please, shut the fuck up.

You’re expecting him to cry, but he bursts out laughing, a hand flying over his mouth to try and hide it. When you furrow your brows at him, he dips his head and takes a minute to collect himself.

“Don’t say things like that, you’ll make me feel small both emotionally and physically. Anyhow,” he snickers one last time to mask his sadness, “I’m rooting for you. I don’t know what’ll happen to you guys, since Kaede is also in the picture, but I’ll always be cheering you on. I hope you get your happy ending, timid girl.”

It’s odd. You hate Sukuna’s ‘halfie’ but you don’t seem to mind Kazuya’s ‘timid girl’. Is that weird?

Your lip quivers, “I’m sorry that I can’t love you in the same way.”

“Stop,” he teases, “you’ll make me cry. I’m trying to seem tough here.”

Kazuya stands from the table first and waits for you to get up. Like a gentleman, he assists you out of the cafe and holds the door for you.

“I guess we should stop our frequent meetups from here on out.”

He holds his arms open and you rush in to return his hug, holding him as tightly as you can. This is supposed to make you feel better, but you only feel like shit. Well, you are kind of shit, but there’s no need to continue berating yourself.

Ugh, fucking bitch. You’re crying. Kazuya’s soft chuckle vibrates against you while his hands rub your back soothingly, “this must’ve been a tough decision for you, y/n. I know it’s not easy, you did good.”

“I–” you get a bit choked up, but keep going, “I am truly sorry towards you, for not being able to feel the same way.”

Kazuya pulls his face back to look directly in your eyes, a tiny grin on his lips, “I told you that it was all okay. I understand completely, alright? Friends?”

Another fat tear rolls down your cheek, “yeah, friends.”

He rests his face against the side of your head before giving it a quick kiss, “talk it out with Sukuna, alright? He’s a cool guy.”

“He’s an ass, but I will.”

♡ ♡ ♡

Welp! That’s one problem gone. Now you’ve got another storm of problems to get over. How will you confront Sukuna and how will you tell Kaede without causing any more problems? She’s going to be upset, that’s unavoidable. The problem is how upset she’ll be. You’re not sure how far she and Sukuna have gone, but based on how they acted in the club, they might’ve gotten pretty far with each other. Afterall, Sukuna isn’t exactly an in-your-face type of guy, so if they are together then it’s on the downlow, and if that’s the case then it’s no wonder he got so upset with you. You curse under your breath at yourself. You should’ve just asked Kaede a month ago if she and Sukuna were exclusive. You remember the way he held her hips and how they grinded against each other. A shudder runs down your spine at the fact that they might be sleeping together already.

Shit. Whether you say something or not, you’re gonna lose. It’s a lose-lose situation for you regardless of what you do, and that fucking sucks!

“I’m fucking stupid,” you mutter to yourself.

When you’re back in reality, you recognize the area. Your stupid feet have led you to the train tracks you used to hang out at. All those memories of you arguing with Sukuna over little things come flying by and you laugh to yourself while the rocks crunch beneath you. You also remember throwing salt at him all the time. Oh yeah. You haven’t done that in a long while. You keep going, choosing to walk on the actual tracks instead but as you get further, your heart seems to pulse faster. Your intuition tells you to turn and run, far away, but your feet won’t listen.

And, shit. What are the odds that you’d run into him here, today? Well, that’s exactly what the fuck just happened! Why is he here? Why is he sitting on the tracks with his back turned to you? His intoxicating scent fills your nostrils and you switch to breathing through your mouth, refusing to allow him in. His hair isn’t styled today, it’s left soft and untouched, blowing gently with the light breeze. You stand still and hold your breath, trying not to make too much sound but it’s too late.

“You’re always late, Kaede. Next time I’m ditching–”

Sukuna’s words are cut short when he turns around and finds you instead. Why the fuck are you here? Who the hell invited you? He hates that you still look beautiful.

All you can do is stare at him. He looks so different from before; it’s the way his eyes no longer hold any warmth for you. You should’ve taken advantage of those eyes back then, but who would’ve known that you two would end up like this so quickly. It’s just barely 7pm and the orange sky behind him suits him so well. It complements the pigment of his skin and blends in prettily with his artificial pink hair. If you were a bigger fool, you’d think that you were in hell with the devil himself. His aura and glare are enough to burn through your skin and you’re foolish, because you can’t seem to run away.

“You should probably get outta here, Kaede will be here soon,” he spits out, turning away so that he can no longer see you.

“Sukuna, about–”

He cuts you off, “you should also stop coming here, to all the areas we’ve hung out before. It wouldn’t be good for either of us to keep on running into each other.”

So what the fuck does that mean? Is he confirming that he and Kaede are together? Are they cutting you off? You’re really sick and tired of crying, but you can’t stop.

You’re quiet, so he goes on, “I’ll still be around when Kaede wants to hang out with you, but don’t expect too much. I’ll talk to you here and there so it doesn’t come off as weird, but I won’t get in yours or Kazuya’s way.”

You’re not ready for either of this. You were not expecting to run into Sukuna so soon and you don’t know what to say to him. You haven’t had the time to try and sort this shit out, so for it to come flying at you like this all at once has you overwhelmed. Right now, you wish a train would just come and run you over, but that’s not happening. Not anytime soon, at least.

You’re too quiet. Sukuna lazily tilts his head towards you and clicks his tongue at what he sees.

“Seriously? You’re crying now?” He snickers dryly, “you’re really fucking crying right now?”

A short sob falls from your lips, “can I not cry when my feelings are hurt?”

“No, you don’t get to cry.”

He closes the distance between you, “and don’t even think about trying to cry about this later. I won’t fall for it.”

Your mouth falls agape and you think about how none of this would’ve been a problem if he had just left you alone the second time you guys talked. You try to blink away the rest of your tears, “I never asked for this. I didn’t ask for you to stay by my side and cling to me.”

Sukuna thinks it’s funny, so he laughs in a spiteful manner. Weren’t you the one who came to bother him? Asking about his name and shit? Talking about always seeing him linger on the fucking streets?

“Oh, so now you’re ungrateful too, bitch.”

You shove him away on instinct, “would you stop that?”

His tongue comes out to poke at the corner of his mouth while he chuckles, “stop what? My sarcasm?” he steps closer again, towering over you, “why? Does it hurt you?”

“Yeah, it fucking hurts me, Sukuna,” you quietly admit, a new stream of tears slipping past your eyes.

When you think about your argument last night, your heart aches and you don’t want to feel this way anymore. You just want to get it over with. When you think about how he’s waiting for Kaede right now, your heart falls to pieces.

“Seeing you with her hurts my feelings. I’m jealous, really jealous.”

Everything cunning about Sukuna drops and he backs away from you, pushing his hair back in frustration, “you don’t get to feel that way! Not now, not ever.” His chest heaves heavily as he speaks to you, “what gives you the right to, hm? That you realized you liked me too late?”

He comes to you again but you don’t move, you don’t wince at his aggression. His red hues bore into yours, “what’re you gonna do about Kazuya, huh? Tell me.”

Just tell him. That’s all you need to do. Tell him that you ended things with Kazuya. As easy as it sounds like to do so, you can’t. You just ended things with him and even that hurt. You can still see just how much he was holding back, how hard he was trying to not cry in front of you. You remember how when you both parted ways, you turned around and saw his arms raise towards his face. He broke down when he was sure you were already walking away from him, and it made you feel like the shittiest person alive because he didn’t deserve that. And even if you could tell Sukuna, you’re more worried now than ever about the fact that he and Kaede might be dating. Everything he’s doing, all of this anger, it’s possible that he’s angry with you because you’re too late and they’re already together.

Sukuna’s irises flick back and forth all over your face as he waits for you to speak up. Why aren’t you saying anything? Why can’t you ever say anything?

“Stop fucking crying, y/n,” he says in a softer tone, more so to help himself calm down.

“This is stupid,” you say weakly, “I’m being stupid.”

You quickly wipe your eyes and turn around to leave. That’s better anyway because Kaede could show up at any moment.

“Don’t walk away from me,” he chases after you with long strides, “we aren’t done talking about this.”

“Well, I am.”

“Well I’m not, so get your ass back here before I lift you over my shoulder and drag you away myself.”

You still haven’t turned around, “that’s kidnapping.”

He stands right behind you, “I don’t give a shit, y/n. I’ll do it, you know I will.”

He’s not bluffing. You hate that you know. You take a deep breath and turn back to face him.

“That’s what I thought.”

“You’re a fucking dick.”

“Says the one causing problems.”

“Says the one causing problems.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“You’re a fucking dick.”

@lucyrocks86 @mykyoon @hxlalokidottir @wo-ming-bai @yourusernames @adoraspace

[sirianasims]

Chapter 26

Love Me Anyway

“Welcome back, Eric, doctor Holland is ready to see you.”

“Thank you, mr. Holland.”

“Hello, Eric. How have you been doing since last time? You’re still staying sober?”

“Yeah. I think I’m doing pretty well, actually. I mean, it’s still rough sometimes, but I mostly struggle when I’m alone for too long. And my neighbours check up on me regularly and invite me over for dinner, and my parents call me at least twice a week.”

“That’s good. And the antidepressants seem to be working too – do you want to try lowering the dose a little?”

“I don’t know… actually, no. It doesn’t feel… safe. Not yet. I really don’t want to relapse.”

“Understandable. We won’t touch them yet, then. How’s your daughter?”

“Oh, Freya’s great! She’s doing well in school, she plays football and basketball and wants to go back to Mt. Komorebi so she can snowboard again. But the best thing is, I just finished renovating the house – and she got a new bedroom!”

“Her mother and I finally agreed that I’m doing well enough that she’s comfortable with Freya living with me every other weekend.”

“That’s wonderful news, Eric! I’m happy for you. You deserve it, you’ve worked very hard in the last year. What about your job then?”

“Well, I’m still running the clinic alone, and it’s hard, but it also means I’m too exhausted to lie awake for too long at night, so I guess that’s positive. I’m still debating whether to hire a nurse or a vet. But I promise that it will be a man either way.”

“Good. I don’t usually approve of hiring someone based on gender, but I don’t think it’s wise for you to be working too closely with women just yet. You still have some work to do.”

“I know. It gets lonely, though. I mean, I haven’t… been intimate with anyone for almost a year now. Not since the vacation to Mt. Komorebi.”

“I know. And I’m no stranger to mixing love and work – after all, my husband is my receptionist. But until you’ve dealt with your tendency to use sex as a distraction, I think it’s better this way. Have you given some thought to what we talked about last time, about figuring out what you really want?”

“I’m trying. It’s just… I thought I already knew, right? I had everything planned out since I was a teenager, so there was never any doubt or insecurity to deal with. And then I met Katherine and suddenly my carefully planned future looked completely impossible. I felt lost.”

“You were still able to graduate and start a vet clinic, though. That was part of your plan, right?”

“Yes, but it just didn’t… quite live up to my expectations, I guess? My plans hadn’t involved Freya or her mother at all, so everything felt wrong. And I couldn’t even bond with my daughter at first, it was horrible. I didn’t know how to deal with it, I just tried to escape it all like a coward.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Eric. You were only 23, you had a lot to deal with, and postpartum depression in men is woefully under-diagnosed, I’m afraid. But now that you’re doing better, what are your long-term goals? What do you want out of life? What about finding love?”

“Love?”

“Yes, love! I’m not going to force you to be celibate forever, Eric. So what do you want? Do you want to fall in love? Do you want to get married? Have more children?”

“I… yes? I think I do. I’ve just tried not to think about it, not since – I had an ex once, we really had something special but we broke up when we went to different universities. Then one day she came into my clinic, and I remembered how I always wanted to find true love and get married and all that. But I’d just had Freya at the time, and… things turned out differently.”

“Eric, listen. You’re what, 31 now? Take it from me, I’m twice your age, and your life is far from over. You have plenty of time to fall in love again, get married, have as many children as you want.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Well, that’s all for today, Eric. Keep working on your goals. I’ll see you in two weeks, and remember – no women, no booze.”

“No women, no booze. Thanks, doctor Holland.”

“Same time in two weeks, Eric?”

“That’d be great, mr. Holland. Thank you.”

I left feeling strange. I often felt relieved or exhausted after a therapy session, but this time I felt… excited? Scared? Maybe a bit of both. I hadn’t allowed myself to even consider getting into a relationship for a long time.

Was I even able to fall in love? I loved my parents and my daughter, but I couldn’t even imagine romantic love any longer.

beginning / previous / next

[drferox]

Acceptance of non-conformity

@octarine-ash said to @ask-drferox: Hello! I'm (hopefully) graduating from vet school in Qld at the end of the year. As a queer person who hasn't been widely out at uni, I have a whole bunch of extra anxiety on top of my huge pile of general new grad anxiety. I know you've been asked for similar advice before, but I'm wondering if you'd share any tips you might have for finding a clinic that will feel safe and supportive? Have you found different areas to be more/less tolerant of things like gender nonconformity? I will absolutely be getting tf out of Qld and a big part of me wants to run straight to inner Sydney/Melbourne, but I like large animal work and I'm very scared of narrowing my career options too much. Do you know how realistic it is to get back into mixed work after doing smallies as new grad? What about if I did an honours research year or something? Do you have any experience working in 'compromise' practices  that are just outside cities and do a bit of hobby farm work?  How can I call out bigotry from my colleagues or clients? I want to try lots of different types of vet work and probably work overseas soon after graduating - what would you say is the minimum reasonable period to stay in a job as a recent grad? Big apologies for the absolute bombardment with questions!!! Thank you so much for your blog, even with lots of vets around irl it's still a very valuable resource and incredibly motivating. I appreciate the work you put into it a huge amount.

If you want mixed animal work, i would absolutely get ‘tf’ out of Queensland too, with Hendra being on my mind.

I will straight up say Australian Rainbow Vets and Allies is probably an excellent resource for you. You can find them on Facebook, and Kate has been pretty helpful any time she gets a spare minute. Definitely check them out. You might even figure out if anyone is hiring, or find a mentor.

I feel like it’s very difficult to get back into mixed work after working smallies for a while. The job you have in your first two years will help cement your skills, and if you narrow yourself too quickly it’s really hard to get back. Doable, I know it gets done, but difficult. I started in mostly smallies with hobby farms and occasional large animal enterprises, and found it wasn’t quite enough experience to do production animals super well on an industrial scale, but it did help me figure out what I wanted to do. The large animal work tends to be more basic in that scenario, as a lot of hobby farmers genuinely have little idea of what they’re doing and nutritional issues are common. You’ll probably figure out what you really want from a job in the first 18 months to 2 years, but some new grads only stay for the first 6 months, and that’s fine too.

Onto the more complex topic of finding somewhere safe, supportive and tolerant, and how to call out bigotry.

Some clinics are very distinctly open and supportive of the LGBTQIA+ community, especially when one of the owners falls under that umbrella themselves. But there are also a lot of clinics which are quietly or less extroverted about their support.

Quite a lot of people in my generation, when someone comes out, have a reaction along the lines of ‘oh yes, that makes sense in hindsight’. In older generations there seems to be a lot of ‘so, how does that work? What does that mean?’ but not malice as such, just not necessarily confronted by the idea before.

I’ve worked at practices where people have come out of the closet, and been very stressed about doing so, and it really turned out to be a non-event.

There is a particularly rough style of Aussie humor though, which you probably know by now but can catch some people off guard. It’s a little rough and dismissive but in a joking way. For example, one woman was terrified about how the boss would react when he found out she was a lesbian. All he did was give her a cheeky nudge and say “well you’re not going to get pregnant then” and made sure she had a +1 on her Xmas party invite. End of discussion.

In fact, there’s probably a lot of practice owners who just don’t care about someone’s identity or orientation, including rurally where they’re just glad to find someone who will do the work.

That said, there are some places, some of which I’ve been as a student, which set off warning bells that the culture there might not be all that welcoming or tolerant. And there are hints that, even without discussing it, there are places that are more open to new ideas and accepting of diversity.

Some good signs:

Diversity in the staff. There’s not always an obvious sign that someone belongs to the LGBTQIA+ community, but diversity in race and body types is hard to hide. If a clinic is employing some types of minorities, they’re more likely to be accepting of others.

Tattoos. You can infer some information about people by their tattoos, and as long as they’re not something like white supremacist symbols, they’re a good indicator that the clinic and community is more likely to be accepting of diversity. Normally I would say the same for piercings, but not all piercings are appropriate for a vet clinic so it might not be apparent.

They/them pronouns on the ‘about the staff’ page. Subtle, but if you see one generally a good sign.

Generally once you have some diversity in to break the ice, other types of diversity are likely to go down well.

Rabidly hateful google reviewers who have also left positive reviews for other people critical of, for example, same sex marriage. Suggests the clinic has done something right, or employed at least one LGBTQIA+ person.

Some potentially suspicious signs:

All the employed staff look the same. Might be a coincidence if all the employed staff are tall, blonde women with the same two haircuts, but it also might not be.

Always, always advertising at least one position.

Employers that say you are obliged to wear make up.

In short, the more diversity you can see within the staff, the more accepting the clinic is likely to be of diversity in general. The more conformity you see, the more conformity is likely to be expected. I picked my first job by spotting two staff members and thinking I could turn out like either one of them, and I was happy with that. Seeing a workplace that employs multiple women over 30 years old, about the time when your tolerance for garbage decreases, was encouraging.

Calling out bigotry from clients is easier if you know the clinic will support you. A simple “That’s not acceptable sir/madam” will often cut them off, sometimes followed up by a “That’s not up for discussion, it is unacceptable.” If need be, you can also use “I suggest you see a different veterinarian in the future,” if they are particularly noxious. Once you call them out, most of the bad ones will avoid you so you can get on with your life.

Calling out colleagues is harder and takes a lot more patience. You might not feel secure enough to call them out as such, but a quieter chat along the lines of ‘hey, this was hurtful because X, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t.’ That makes it personal, still semi-private as you haven’t embarrassed them in front of other people and it gives them a simplified choice to either consider changing their mind, or at least keep their mouth shut versus being a deliberate asshole. Best to assume ignorance before malice.

The future might look intimidating, but you’re going to wrangle it anyway.

[catalinaroleplay]

Gender & Pronouns: Cis woman, she/her

Date of Birth: March 16th, 1983 (37)

Place of Birth: Beverly Hills, California

Neighborhood: Ventura

Length of Residency: Since 2011

Occupation: Development Executive, Director & VP of Title Track Entertainment

Face Claim: Minka Kelly

BIOGRAPHY

TRIGGERS: Substance Abuse, Overdose, Suicide.

If there is one thing she could wish to the stars, was the chance to reach for them. Every night she would look up at the sky and ask, let me go up there with you and shine bright as you do. The young girl was a dreamer, a free-spirited with a marvelous, creative mind, and the world wouldn’t stand a chance.

It was easy to point Nicole as an ordinary, and stereotypic California girl walking down Sunset Boulevard covered with privileges and her parents’ money to fill a void left by their issues and to be raised by nannies because they were too busy to pay attention to their child. She fit the mold perfectly. But there was far more to her than it meets the eyes, and it only takes one look underneath the surface to know that, actually, it only takes one smile and a conversation.

Nearly impossible to miss the similarities in her features that are the same of a young Marla Templeton, an old Hollywood actress that made her first appearance on the big screens in the fifths and fascinated her audience with her uniqueness, trilling a career that nourishes its importance to this day. Yet, a brilliant career did not mean an equal and easy personal life. Marla Templeton had many failed marriages, only one that lasted more than the others and gave her three children, Mark, David, and Lisa Thompson. It’s not surprising to say that the relationship between them wasn’t an easy one, and when Marla and Peter got a divorce, the children decided to live with their father. Marla just wasn’t suitable to slip into a mother’s role when her career was her number one priority, and she did not want to make a choice. It worked, at first, Peter was more than happy to stay at home and care to raise the children, and Marla was the one making the surprising visits, bringing the expensive presents and taking them on vacations around the world. It wasn’t expected that Lisa wanted to be just like her mother when she grew up, she was bolded, and Marla had no problem with that until it became a case rivalry. At first, it was finally something the two had in common, something to share and talk about. Still, when Lisa was getting more attention than Marla, things got heated, and when Lisa was seventeen, after her first blockbuster — things started to fell apart. The fight with Marla only got worse, her father did not want her back in the house and she couldn’t bear to be with her mother. Therefore, they made a deal, she would walk in line and stand out of the way till Lisa turns eighteen and could go leave life as she pleases also known as the start of her own path to self-destruction. It started with minor crimes, shoplifting for her own amusement, consuming a little pass of the amount of alcohol than the night before just to kill the boredom she felt when she wasn’t inside the set, and walking with the wrong set of company. Her career took the fault as well, and slowly, her new start glow started to burn out and fade. The first trip to a rehab clinic for damage control came not soon after she was caught, drunk, arguing with a set producer. But her reputation, however, was already set as the troublesome alcoholic teenager star and, perhaps, was better to set aside for a while, and it was when she met Levi Padallino. It was an attraction at first sight and nothing more. They only kept it going because there was something to be taken from it on both sides. Levi was good to her reputation, and Lisa had the means to help him get out of the debuts that college would cost. One year into the relationship and Lisa was pregnant, twins.    

Nicole Eva Padallino was born two minutes after her twin brother, Lucas. And four years later, Levi was long gone. Baltimore was more appealing to him than his children. After all, he already got what he desired and it was a free ride to Med School and an internship in one respectful hospital, Nicole and Lucas would be just fine in the hands of Lisa: she had the money to cover it up. Is money, isn’t it? What makes the world turn around and cover wounds left open. In truth, Levi knew the kids were not fine at all because Lisa Thompson was struggling with her own addiction and was yet to seek help, to admit it to herself. And that only left Nicole and Lucas to be raised by nannies, to watch their mother barely stand by herself, sometimes forgetting to pay the bills or show up to work, and it was the twins that at a very young age learned that they were responsible for keeping their home a functional one. Of course, having staff around the house did not make the burdened weigh as much as someone with fewer privileges, Geraldine, their mother agent turned to be like an aunt and came as great help from time to time. She dealt with Lisa better than anyone because she could not afford to lose her best-selling client, sober her up, and put her in the car to show up on the set for work. In the meantime, the kids would stay at home with their nannies, tutors and doing their best to keep the problems hidden from everyone else, especially their grandmother, when she would show up to check it if they were okay. They would put on their best show because truth is, Marla turned into someone else at the minute she settled her eyes on those children. For her, they were her second chance of being better when her own child was vanishing right in front of her eyes. She did not see hope for Lisa anymore, she never did but now was definitely too late to do something else. But she was a good grandmother, the best, she would play along with the stories they create in their head to excuse from their chaos and misery that life outside those stories was. Marla gave them their first camera, to register their adventures in homemade movies and while Nicole was a bit resilient to the present, Lucas loved it. He recast Peter Pan, Lion King, Hercules, Batman, and even his sister to play Anastasia.

One night, however, when Marla came to the house to find that the power was cut off, the staff was two months without payment, and the kids were living off from frozen pizza because Lisa was on the verge of going bankrupt. She took Nicole and Lucas out of the house when their mother came stumbling drunk through the door, again, with a nameless man as she has done countless times. They were thirteen, and Marla legally became their guardian after Lisa was admitted to rehabilitation. It was very public and very traumatic for their family, but no one took it as hard as Lucas, but neither saw the signs, not until when they were sixteen and Lucas committed suicide. Nicole’s entire world crashed in front of her. The twins were too attached to one another because they have always been the only family they could count on: best friends and siblings. He was her better half, and she knew nothing without him. He was her hero. How can a normal functional and loveable teenager be able to act? All he left behind was a film, his final project for movie class was a documentary to say goodbye, goodbye to her. A goddamn movie to say goodbye, but it still wasn’t enough and Nicole suppressed that pain, that feeling. But it was only the beginning because she had another curving ball to face when her father decided to show up at the funeral.

Levi was back in California, working at Cedars Sinai for the past three years but never had the nerve to tell anyone until Marla tracked him to tell his son has passed. And there he was, back in her life, but why was he there to begin with? He was a stranger to Nicole. The only thing she has of him was his last name. When he stood there, he hugged her and invited her to a stroll later and to meet his family. The family, just like the one Nicole and Lucas always wanted: with parents that remember your birthday, that makes you feel safe during a thunderstorm, that sit together to eat dinner or to light up the Christmas lights or to pick up the presents or someone that cares enough to fake snow prints on the floor and wrap presents to celebrate to holiday in the next morning. A normal childhood like in the movies they used to watch. Their house was cold and empty almost every Christmas. If they were lucky, Lisa would come home with a treat from the party she had just attended or Geraldine would take care of buying each a gift. But maybe, with Levi and his family, this could be her chance. He asked her to move in, but her grandmother was against it, Nicole decided to stay, even though no place feels like home. After all, the thought of living with her father is a close shot to having a home, but she wasn’t ready for a huge change.

Yet, Nicole went beyond to show her father how good of young woman she has become. The perfect American girl, captain cheerleader, senior prom queen, excellent GPA, and dating life make all her friends jealous. She had planned for her future. Though, as she began to share her dreams and give him a chance, the brittle truth comes out from her father. Levi was never interested in having a daughter. He already had a family of his own and was making sure to take care of them and that was what he wanted. He wanted Nicole to speak to her mother and grandmother to annul the contract he signed when the twins were born that said he had to pay for tuition when they decide to go college since Lisa paid for Levi’s entire Med School. Needless to say, she was devastated because her mother wasn’t great, but yet she was still there and never walked away, and neither did her grandmother. Nicole decided he would pay, Lucas wasn’t there anymore, but she was and college may not been been her first plan but now? She would make it her mission.

Nicole got into Stanford with a major in biology; she could hate every minute of it, but there was one thing she was good at and that thing was: when she puts her mind into something, she went the distance. It was for her, her mother, and Lucas. The first part was to get her degree in biology and then go to Medical school. But, what she was going to do with a medical degree? She had no idea. To spite her father and make him pay more? All she wanted was to travel, to see the world. The woman never had the time to think of herself. She always lived to help others survive through days and be pleasing for the needs of others. This was supposed to be when she was going to find herself, but there she was, acting for what knows what end.

If there was ever a God… he was a cruel, manipulative bastard.

Yet, Stanford was a surprise she did not expect, she found not only a family there in the form of her best friends. But love, partnership, and her true calling because who would tell that she would pick up from where her brother left? It started with her finding his old camera when she was visiting her grandmother for Thanksgiving, watching some of their old homemade movies, and flipping through old notebooks and diaries — they were quite the duo. She cried the entire night. It was unfair, it was a crushing pain upon her chest like no other and a feeling she has been carrying around for so long that she doesn’t seem or doesn’t know how to get rid of it. It was too much, and for just a second, she thought was what Lucas felt? It was until she found his diaries, and she did not want to read. But something pulled her to do so, and there was a light into a part of her brother she never saw before. It gave her a just a bit more comfort. Going back home, she took the camera with her and started to work with it, just recording her friends, making little videos of her day like Lucas used to. She did not have much money, she saved whatever her grandmother sent her and her father only paid what was he legally requested to do so, so she started to work on a little coffee shop outside the campus and met a band, it was where it changed for her.

Becoming friends with the band that used to play there, she started to produce, direct, script, edit their videos, and publish them online until they went viral. Soon, so did her name. But Nicole has settled in finish Stanford, so she started to work with the local bands while taking classes, it was her and one of her best friends that was soon to become her partner. And when she finally graduated, she was free. The girl decided she did not need revenge or anything from her father, she was going to drop from the idea of going to Med School and move to Los Angeles to pursue filmmaker but first, she was going to travel. She was finally twenty-one and she has received the trust fund of both Lucas and hers, she knew Lucas’s money was going to be made into something else, but hers, she was going to take for a gap year. Somehow, her first place was Brazil, and it was a life change for her because a visit to the town of Pedro Leopoldo and everything she once knew believed it was true, changed. She visited the old house that belonged to Chico Xavier, the works there picked her, and even if she was a non-believer she opened to experience and took the letter in hands. A gasp of air, she was sitting in the midfield crying in her hands but the content of the said letter was kept a secret. The message from her brother. Until she attended a concert in 2004, in Buffalo, NY, Nicole felt her soul be more filled and healed than ever before. Her faith was her own, she did not scream to anyone, not even back in Los Angeles when she started to search more about Spiritism and attend the weekly speeches. It was something she decided to make her own.

Her career started to blossom and with it, the desire to not be known using her father’s name and she decided to change but she also did not want to use her mother’s or grandmother’s — something having to do with raising her on her own. She then started to use a stage name: Nicole Ainsworth. And that name was growing, she used half of Lucas’s trust to open the Title Track Entertainment and the other half was donated to a foundation to help kids with mental health issues. Nicole’s name was growing first on the internet with producing documentaries for pop music artists and directing turns and awards. It was until her big break as a producer that worked on Frozen, shortly after, then as a director came after directing a number at the Oscar and receiving a call to direct and produce: The Greatest Showman. She made a name for herself and started choosing projects to build a great portfolio, working with Disney and Marvel’s upcoming projects for their streaming platform.

After all of the years of life throwing complications her way, often making Nicole doubt herself, one of her biggest dream came true ─ her first child with her partner, Harry. Baby Noah was their biggest project and came when they least imagined, but just when they were both ready, the only problem? Both are freaking about being super protective parents to the point where you can only enter the house with hand sanitizer and slippers off and foot protection on. As well as her responsibilities of being a parent, Nicole still manages to practice Spiritism while preparing for future projects with her company, Title Track Entertainment, but taking time to enjoy the quaint island of Catalina during the time of her maternity leave.

PERSONALITY

Positive: Illustrious | Lyrical | Vehement 

Negative: Overwrought | Appetent | Paradoxical

Nicole Ainsworth is portrayed by Carol.

[richincolor]

Last week someone asked if I knew of any good lists of memoirs and coming-of-age novels. We do have a list of memoirs, but that was created four years ago and several more have been published since then that we’d recommend. I couldn’t recall or find a list like she was describing for coming-of-age books either, so the librarian in me felt the need to make one. Here’s an updated collection of memoirs along with a few coming-of-age novels. If you know of others written by BIPOC authors that you would recommend, please share the titles.

Memoirs

All Boys Aren’t Blue: A Memoir-Manifesto by George M. Johnson Farrar, Straus and Giroux (Byr)

In a series of personal essays, prominent journalist and LGBTQIA+ activist George M. Johnson explores his childhood, adolescence, and college years in New Jersey and Virginia. From the memories of getting his teeth kicked out by bullies at age five, to flea marketing with his loving grandmother, to his first sexual relationships, this young-adult memoir weaves together the trials and triumphs faced by Black queer boys.

Both a primer for teens eager to be allies as well as a reassuring testimony for young queer men of color, All Boys Aren’t Blue covers topics such as gender identity, toxic masculinity, brotherhood, family, structural marginalization, consent, and Black joy. Johnson’s emotionally frank style of writing will appeal directly to young adults.

Almost American Girl: An Illustrated Memoir by Robin Ha Balzer & Bray/Harperteen

For as long as she can remember, it’s been Robin and her mom against the world. Growing up as the only child of a single mother in Seoul, Korea, wasn’t always easy, but it has bonded them fiercely together.

So when a vacation to visit friends in Huntsville, Alabama, unexpectedly becomes a permanent relocation–following her mother’s announcement that she’s getting married–Robin is devastated.

Overnight, her life changes. She is dropped into a new school where she doesn’t understand the language and struggles to keep up. She is completely cut off from her friends in Seoul and has no access to her beloved comics. At home, she doesn’t fit in with her new stepfamily, and worst of all, she is furious with the one person she is closest to–her mother.

Then one day Robin’s mother enrolls her in a local comic drawing class, which opens the window to a future Robin could never have imagined.

Banned Book Club by Kim Hyun Sook, Ryan Estrada, Hyung-Ju Ko (Illustrator) Iron Circus Comics [Crystal’s Review] [Q&A with Authors – in a Comic]

When Kim Hyun Sook started college in 1983 she was ready for her world to open up. After acing her exams and sort-of convincing her traditional mother that it was a good idea for a woman to go to college, she looked forward to soaking up the ideas of Western Literature far from the drudgery she was promised at her family’s restaurant. But literature class would prove to be just the start of a massive turning point, still focused on reading but with life-or-death stakes she never could have imagined.

This was during South Korea’s Fifth Republic, a military regime that entrenched its power through censorship, torture, and the murder of protestors. In this charged political climate, with Molotov cocktails flying and fellow students disappearing for hours and returning with bruises, Hyun Sook sought refuge in the comfort of books. When the handsome young editor of the school newspaper invited her to his reading group, she expected to pop into the cafeteria to talk about Moby Dick, Hamlet, and The Scarlet Letter. Instead she found herself hiding in a basement as the youngest member of an underground banned book club. And as Hyun Sook soon discovered, in a totalitarian regime, the delights of discovering great works of illicit literature are quickly overshadowed by fear and violence as the walls close in.

It’s Trevor Noah: Born a Crime Stories from a South African Childhood by Trevor Noah Delacorte Press

Trevor Noah, the funny guy who hosts The Daily Show on Comedy Central, shares his remarkable story of growing up in South Africa with a black South African mother and a white European father at a time when it was against the law for a mixed-race child to exist. But he did exist–and from the beginning, the often-misbehaved Trevor used his keen smarts and humor to navigate a harsh life under a racist government. This fascinating memoir blends drama, comedy, and tragedy to depict the day-to-day trials that turned a boy into a young man. In a country where racism barred blacks from social, educational, and economic opportunity, Trevor surmounted staggering obstacles and created a promising future for himself, thanks to his mom’s unwavering love and indomitable will.

Infinite Hope: A Black Artist’s Journey from WWII to Peace by Ashley Bryan Atheneum Books

In May of 1942, at the age of eighteen, Ashley Bryan was drafted to fight in World War II. For the next three years, he would face the horrors of war as a black soldier in a segregated army.

He endured the terrible lies white officers told about the black soldiers to isolate them from anyone who showed kindness–including each other. He received worse treatment than even Nazi POWs. He was assigned the grimmest, most horrific tasks, like burying fallen soldiers…but was told to remove the black soldiers first because the media didn’t want them in their newsreels. And he waited and wanted so desperately to go home, watching every white soldier get safe passage back to the United States before black soldiers were even a thought.

For the next forty years, Ashley would keep his time in the war a secret. But now, he tells his story. The story of the kind people who supported him. The story of the bright moments that guided him through the dark. And the story of his passion for art that would save him time and time again.

Ordinary Hazards: A Memoir by Nikki Grimes Wordsong

In her own voice, acclaimed author and poet Nikki Grimes explores the truth of a harrowing childhood in a compelling and moving memoir in verse. Growing up with a mother suffering from paranoid schizophrenia and a mostly absent father, Nikki Grimes found herself terrorized by babysitters, shunted from foster family to foster family, and preyed upon by those she trusted. At the age of six, she poured her pain onto a piece of paper late one night – and discovered the magic and impact of writing. For many years, Nikki’s notebooks were her most enduing companions. In this accessible and inspiring memoir that will resonate with young readers and adults alike, Nikki shows how the power of those words helped her conquer the hazards – ordinary and extraordinary – of her life.

They Called Us Enemy by George Takei, Justin Eisinger, Steven Scott, Harmony Becker (Illustrator)Top Shelf Productions

They Called Us Enemy is Takei’s firsthand account of those years behind barbed wire, the joys and terrors of growing up under legalized racism, his mother’s hard choices, his father’s faith in democracy, and the way those experiences planted the seeds for his astonishing future. What does it mean to be American? Who gets to decide? When the world is against you, what can one person do? To answer these questions, George Takei joins co-writers Justin Eisinger & Steven Scott and artist Harmony Becker for the journey of a lifetime.

Coming-of-Age

Clap When You Land by Ellizabeth Acevedo Quill Tree Books [Crystal’s Review]

Camino Rios lives for the summers when her father visits her in the Dominican Republic. But this time, on the day when his plane is supposed to land, Camino arrives at the airport to see crowds of crying people…

In New York City, Yahaira Rios is called to the principal’s office, where her mother is waiting to tell her that her father, her hero, has died in a plane crash.

Separated by distance–and Papi’s secrets–the two girls are forced to face a new reality in which their father is dead and their lives are forever altered.

And then, when it seems like they’ve lost everything of their father, they learn of each other.

Darius the Great is Not Okay by Adib Khorram Penguin Books [Interview with Adib Khorram]

Darius Kellner speaks better Klingon than Farsi, and he knows more about Hobbit social cues than Persian ones. He’s a Fractional Persian–half, his mom’s side–and his first-ever trip to Iran is about to change his life.

Darius has never really fit in at home, and he’s sure things are going to be the same in Iran. His clinical depression doesn’t exactly help matters, and trying to explain his medication to his grandparents only makes things harder. Then Darius meets Sohrab, the boy next door, and everything changes. Soon, they’re spending their days together, playing soccer, eating faludeh, and talking for hours on a secret rooftop overlooking the city’s skyline. Sohrab calls him Darioush–the original Persian version of his name–and Darius has never felt more like himself than he does now that he’s Darioush to Sohrab.

Forward Me Back to You by Mitali Perkins Farrar, Straus and Giroux (Byr)

Katina King is the reigning teen jujitsu champion of Northern California, but she’s having trouble fighting off the secrets in her past.

Robin Thornton was adopted from an orphanage in India and is reluctant to take on his future. If he can’t find his roots, how can he possibly plan ahead?

Robin and Kat meet in the most unlikely of places–a summer service trip to Kolkata to work with survivors of human trafficking. As bonds build between the travelmates, Robin and Kat discover that justice and healing are tangled, like the pain of their pasts and the hope for their futures. You can’t rewind life; sometimes you just have to push play.

In turns heart wrenching, beautiful, and buoyant, Mitali Perkins’s Forward Me Back to You focuses its lens on the ripple effects of violence–across borders and generations–and how small acts of heroism can break the cycle.

Hearts Unbroken by Cynthia Leitich Smith Candlewick Press

When Louise Wolfe’s first real boyfriend mocks and disrespects Native people in front of her, she breaks things off and dumps him over e-mail. It’s her senior year, anyway, and she’d rather spend her time with her family and friends and working on the school newspaper. The editors pair her up with Joey Kairouz, the ambitious new photojournalist, and in no time the paper’s staff find themselves with a major story to cover: the school musical director’s inclusive approach to casting The Wizard of Oz has been provoking backlash in their mostly white, middle-class Kansas town. From the newly formed Parents Against Revisionist Theater to anonymous threats, long-held prejudices are being laid bare and hostilities are spreading against teachers, parents, and students — especially the cast members at the center of the controversy, including Lou’s little brother, who’s playing the Tin Man. As tensions mount at school, so does a romance between Lou and Joey — but as she’s learned, “dating while Native” can be difficult. In trying to protect her own heart, will Lou break Joey’s?

Loveboat, Taipei by Abigail Hing Wen Harperteen [Jessica’s Review]

And just like that, Ever Wong’s summer takes an unexpected turn. Gone is Chien Tan, the strict educational program in Taiwan that Ever was expecting. In its place, she finds Loveboat: a summer-long free-for-all where hookups abound, adults turn a blind eye, snake-blood sake flows abundantly, and the nightlife runs nonstop.

But not every student is quite what they seem:

Ever is working toward becoming a doctor but nurses a secret passion for dance.

Rick Woo is the Yale-bound child prodigy bane of Ever’s existence whose perfection hides a secret.

Boy-crazy, fashion-obsessed Sophie Ha turns out to have more to her than meets the eye.

And under sexy Xavier Yeh’s shell is buried a shameful truth he’ll never admit.

When these students’ lives collide, it’s guaranteed to be a summer Ever will never forget.

Parachutes by Kelly Yang Katherine Tegen Books

They’re called parachutes: teenagers dropped off to live in private homes and study in the United States while their wealthy parents remain in Asia. Claire Wang never thought she’d be one of them, until her parents pluck her from her privileged life in Shanghai and enroll her at a high school in California.

Suddenly she finds herself living in a stranger’s house, with no one to tell her what to do for the first time in her life. She soon embraces her newfound freedom, especially when the hottest and most eligible parachute, Jay, asks her out.

Dani De La Cruz, Claire’s new host sister, couldn’t be less thrilled that her mom rented out a room to Claire. An academic and debate team star, Dani is determined to earn her way into Yale, even if it means competing with privileged kids who are buying their way to the top. But Dani’s game plan veers unexpectedly off course when her debate coach starts working with her privately.

As they steer their own distinct paths, Dani and Claire keep crashing into one another, setting a course that will change their lives forever.

Yes No Maybe So by Aisha Saeed & Becky Albertalli Balzer & Bray/Harperteen [Group Discussion]

YES

Jamie Goldberg is cool with volunteering for his local state senate candidate–as long as he’s behind the scenes. When it comes to speaking to strangers (or, let’s face it, speaking at all to almost anyone) Jamie’s a choke artist. There’s no way he’d ever knock on doors to ask people for their votes…until he meets Maya.

NO

Maya Rehman’s having the worst Ramadan ever. Her best friend is too busy to hang out, her summer trip is canceled, and now her parents are separating. Why her mother thinks the solution to her problems is political canvassing–with some awkward dude she hardly knows–is beyond her.

MAYBE SO

Going door to door isn’t exactly glamorous, but maybe it’s not the worst thing in the world. After all, the polls are getting closer–and so are Maya and Jamie. Mastering local activism is one thing. Navigating the cross-cultural crush of the century is another thing entirely.

[youarejesting]

Femme: 44

Pairing: BTS - OT7 x Reader, GDragon x Bigbang, Erik Nam

Rating: Mature

Length: 2.9k

Warnings: Birth, Implied sex, implied oral (f recieving) Cute scenes.

Announcement: We are wrapping up the fic 6 more chapters to go.

Recap: Giving birth to a boy and a girl, you are exhausted. Having no clue what to name them you spent the first week at home brainstorming until Jae Hwan and Jae Eun felt perfect. Cute scenes between dads and all their babies. Kyungju has his Fourth Birthday and everyone is invited. A Late night call brings bad news. Taking some time to grief you take over at work and begin teaching Erik the ropes. You have officially been given a proper shop which means no more setting up tables and umbrellas in the park. Business isn’t the only thing booming in the ‘Frozen Spoon’ Hearts are beating loudly between your employees. Hoseok and Jimin reveal that they know you are pregnant and to your surprise it is true. Jeongsan finally goes to daycare and you stop by the clinic to check what is going on with your huge belly.

Stepping out of the doctor’s clinic you squealed, taking a taxi to his workplace you walked in trying not to smile too excited that you might scare people. “Hello, can we help you?”

“Ah, I am here to see my husband?” “Ah you must be Dr Jung’s wife, he doesn’t stop talking about you?” They grinned “he says you are having another baby and he has been hoping it is his” “Is he free?” “Actually yes he just went on lunch in his office, you can go straight in”

You knocked softly on the door and heard come in, you had rarely seen the boys workspaces and this one was very nice. Poking your head in you saw Hoseok’s beautiful and crisp office, the scent of clean citrus greeting you.

“Jagiya” he stood up, his hand covering his mouth, tears brimming in his eyes “Are you here to tell me?”

You nodded and he pulled you into a hug and kissed your face all over declaring his love for you between each. He popped his head outside the door and cheered “I’m going to be a dad!”

Dogs started barking and a couple of doors opened and congratulations could be heard around the offices and clinic rooms even pet owners smiled and congratulated him.

“Jagiya, I love you so much” he kissed you and sat you on his desk moving aside his keyboard and lunch kissing you and pulling up your dress. “Hobi not at your work what if someone comes in?” He ran and locked the door running back

“Now they can’t, come on let me make sure that this little one is definitely mine” “Hoseok this is your baby inside me, do you want to know the gender?” “Yes, no, yes please?” “It’s a boy” “A boy” he was crying so hard he hugged you “I’m a dad and it’s a little boy, Jagiya” He settled down and grinned.

“I love him already” he laughed wiping his tears “He loves you already, but I am worried about how to tell Jimin he was so excited as well” “I can tell him if you want?” “No my sunshine I will tell him, I have to get back to work” you slid off his table.

“Jagi we didn’t even have sex?” He pouted you smirked at him “You didn’t try hard enough”

Walking to the door he slammed his hand on the door before you could unlock it and he placed his hand on your hips pulling you back against him feeling how hard he was.

“How about if I try a little harder?” “Yeah, you think you can get harder?” “Oh I know I can”

You took a taxi to Jimin’s bakery and ducked your head in, waving at the young man behind the counter who grinned.

“Jimin your wife is here to see you.” “Princess come in, why are you here, you were supposed to be at the clinic checking on the baby?”

“Jimin my Prince Charming I got the results and Hoseok is the dad this time” “Oh did you tell him?” He gave a fake smile, turning away to mix some batter. “I did, he was excited but I know how much you wanted this Chimmy”

“Is there something wrong with me?” He sniffed leaving the food materials and wiping his eyes with the back of his hands spreading flour across his cheeks. “There is nothing wrong with you my prince, you are perfect” “Why can’t I get you pregnant? Am I bad at it?”

“No you are not, you are amazing Jimin like absolutely Amazing, it’s all just about timing let me explain it, so an egg can be fertilised but may not implant properly which is my bodies fault, So this could be any number of things. And ovulation, when the egg drops, is such a short time and sometimes the best time for it might happen when I am at work”

“Okay” “Do you know what that means?” “What does it mean?” “It means that we can try more” “Really, I can wait as long as it takes then”

He walked you to work smiling and taking you to your office, where he shut and locked the door. “Maybe we should get some practice in now” “I think we definitely should”

It was autumn, almost ready for winter, you took a break leaving Hajun in charge for a few days. Your ice cream supplies were good and Hajun said it would be okay for a week.

The boys all packed and there was a lot to pack and you got into the van and Namjoon's company car you had seats for all the children and it was time to go on a little vacation. You had all the cameras and such and you had tents and sleeping bags and bug sprays.

Everything for a camping trip, “hey dad we are just leaving now” Taehyung said into his phone, “we will be there soon.”

Namjoon called his father, “we are heading out now we will meet you there”

You all got on the road the children harnessed into their baby seats and secured in, you had to feed the twins every now and again but they mostly slept.

You arrived at the farm and grinned greeting Taehyung's parents again. “Wow your family has grown since we have last seen you” you smiled and they helped you set up camp and you smiled sitting with them all you had set up a mosquito net outside hanging from the outdoor shade.

“What’s this for?” Namjoon asked “I don’t want my children to get mosquito bites or flies crawling into their mouths” you laughed. “Mamma Dad Tae says we can swim in the river is that true?” Kyungju asked

“Tae is that true?” “Oh yeah and the others are going to it’s like knee-deep and runs slowly it’s not crazy”

“Okay but Tae can you tell everyone to line up for sunscreen, we are not burning today, especially you kyungie you are pale like your father you will turn into a lobster in seconds”

You took the sunscreen and began applying it to Kyungju who whined “mama I can do it myself, I go to a big school soon” “Alright you’re done give me a kiss and then you can wait over there with your shoes and a towel.”

He ran off to collect his shoes and towel, “come on pale dad it is time for some sunscreen” you began putting it on him as the others passed the bottle around lathering their skin.

“I can do it myself. I am a big boy, you know?” He huffed you couldn’t help but laugh the way they talked and the pout was the same. “What’s so funny?” “Your son said and did the same thing?”

“Jagiya can you get my back?” “Mine too princess” You nodded and began covering them in sunscreen and Seokjin began putting some on your shoulders and neck and the boys’ eyes lit up as they stripped you in the tent and lathered you in sunscreen.

You pulled on your swimmers and emerged from the tent. The younger babies had baby sunscreen and you carried them to the river. Carrying Jae Eun on your chest as you walked you saw Jin walking ahead Kyungju hanging on his neck, Jeongsan was sitting on his father's shoulders and Jimin carried Jae Hwan.

Once at the river you looked at the boys Kyungju and Jeongsan was listening to everything Taehyung said, and they followed him looking for pirate treasure in the water. You went to a small pool area where you could sit in the water and you grinned, holding your baby girl in your arms.

She loved the water taking after you and Taehyung greatly, Kyungju was the one who didn’t particularly like swimming, he preferred to sit in the cool water or slowly walk around where it wasn’t too deep. Jeongsan was jumping into the deeper areas and swimming to Taehyung. You held Jae Eun and Jimin day next to you with a slightly fussier Jae Hwan.

You were playing with the water and counting giving your baby a trigger word right before you sprinkled some water over her head. Soon you could cup your hand in the water and tip a small amount over her head and she seemed to understand the trigger word was to hold her breath. It took a while and it soon worked. She was able to hold her breath and you could gently dip her in and out of the water causing her to giggle as you praised and kissed her. You swapped with Jimin handing over baby Eun and taking baby Hwan. Jimin stepped out to dry and dress Jae Eun. Your boy settled a little more in your arms and you tried to teach him but it wasn’t working as well.

“Okay new tactic” you knew this was an older method to teach babies to hold their breath and wasn’t as effective as the trigger word but you breathed gently a small stream of air onto Jae Hwan’s face and he took a breathe and you dipped him under the water and back up and he froze confused and you praised him and kissed his cheeks causing him to giggle and kick his legs.

You smiled walking back happy with the twins first swimming lessons.

Camping was fun, you all picked strawberries from the fields and ate delicious foods. But you had to head home as you had work to go back to. Hoping your two employees have fallen in love while you were away they were so cute.

It turned out that they hadn’t yet and you made sure to invite everyone to a company dinner but you specified the date and time and made sure everyone cancelled that evening. You covered the cost of everything so their date could go underway. Jimin accompanied you in disguise across the room pretending to be on a date. While watching them nervously get to know each other before you decided your work was done and to give them some privacy.

Time past quickly and you were six months pregnant after having a really good day at work. You were home early, Yoongi and Jimin were fooling around on the couch and Seokjin and Jungkook walked in with Kyungju and Jeongsan on their shoulders.

“Hey, hot Mumma!” Seokjin slapped your behind playfully. “Hey, Princess!” “Kitten” “Mumma bear!” A chorus and echo of footsteps as your husbands came to greet you.

They made you feel at ease after a long exhausting day. You wanted to lie down this baby was too energetic kicking you from the inside and making your back hurt. Announcing you would be going to bed to rest they promised to bring you some dinner.

You woke to the boys all watching you standing around the bed. Yoongi climbed over you kissing you slowly before he started touching you slowly kissing and squeezing your breasts he wiggled himself further down your body eventually laying between your legs his head resting on your thigh. He grinned up at you before he put his famous tongue to work. You had heard his underground raps where he boasted about his skills in the bedroom. It was funny because you knew first hand Yoongi was lazy but when it came to Oral he was a damn near god. Feeling yourself come.

Your high disappeared quickly and you were left in a wet pool. Looking down you frowned a contraction passing shortly after. Waddling to the bathroom you quickly went to clean up but the pain was strong, stronger than you were used too. You were scared. You were just finishing the last week of your second trimester. Tomorrow you would be seven months. You tried to relax taking out your phone and calling an ambulance and laying yourself down in the bathroom. You were calmly talking to the lady on the phone.

“Mummy, what are you doing?” Jeongsan asked from the doorway holding his comfort bunny by the ears. “Jeongsan, baby get daddy please, I want to tell him something?” Breathing as calmly as you could he left and you felt something familiar. The boys came running and Hoseok was on the ground beside you.

“Jagiya breathe, relax okay, everything will be fine” The feeling increased the baby was crowning a sensation you knew well.

“The baby is coming, right now” you managed to speak between deep breathing. “Get clean towels hot water and the medical kit, I have under the sink, sterilize the artery clamps and the scissors.” “Why do you have them?”

“I was going to role play and I wanted to buy a blood pressure cuff penlight and a stethoscope but there were other things that came with it. That I haven’t used” They dipped the scissors and clamps into boiling water and then took it out and laid it on a towel to cool. “You got this Hoseok”

“Why me?” “You are the doctor” “For animals not people” “And you’re the dad?”

“What do I do?” Hoseok asked and you sighed with relief as the paramedics came in, lead by Namjoon and Seokjin. “Take the boys and pack a bag for the hospital we need small clothes. The smallest sizes you can get” you said

“Miss y/n is it, can you get up onto the gurney?” “No I really can’t there is a baby coming out of me,” They looked at each other and got to work delivering the baby and wrapping you both up and escorting you out. Jeongsan sat in the living room crying on Jimin’s lap.

“Mummy!” you smiled and told him you were okay, masking any fear and you were in the hospital. It was a baby boy he was so small and had lungs like his father.

You both stayed overnight having to say goodnight to your babies who came to visit to drop off your things and after a week of visits, your boy was able to come home. He was healthy and lanky he had a long charming face not quite as long as his fathers but he definitely had his father’s heart-shaped lips and your beautiful eye shape.

You named him Huimang, it meant hope and a part of you was nervous that he would be called horse-related names and Namjoon assured you that he could always be homeschooled.

It was during a routine check-up at the doctor they did a blood test ensuring you had no retained placenta it was routine after birth outside of the clinic. What you didn’t expect was to hear was that you were pregnant again after having a baby four months ago. 

“But breastfeeding is supposed to be a natural birth control?” “It is not one hundred percent effective,” he said “Noted, I will have to have words with my spouses”

You took an early blood test which would determine DNA and gender. You were roughly 8 weeks pregnant already and you had some words for your husband who had been particularly close to you before his business trip in January.

Hyuna and Dawn had started getting a little flirtatious at work, it surprised you how a year had passed since the two had met and they were still not together. Hyuna was being quite obvious in her pursuit and yet Dawn seemed oblivious. Erik had also had a few customers who had begun flirting with him and he seemed quite oblivious to their advances.

Huimang was a quiet baby surprisingly he liked to sit and stare and because of this, he reached his milestones so quick he was crawling before you knew it and sitting up, once he was sitting he tried to copy the twins who were cruising along the furniture. You were run off your feet, pregnant and three children who were learning to walk running about getting into things.

You were exempt from work and was told to take it easy after the last pregnancy mishap.

Your husband returned from a business trip rather busy and you told them all the news. It was at the breakfast table on a Sunday morning no one had work today and you were leisurely eating. “You know how we love our children and cannot wait to have more”

“I don’t like where this is going?” Yoongi frowned over his coffee “Well turns out breastfeeding as a natural contraceptive is a loud of bullshit and someone who got a little frisky before his business trip got me pregnant”

All eyes turned onto Namjoon who froze dropping his spoon in his cereal bowl with a clatter. “I am so sorry love I didn’t mean too” Jungkook threw a spoonful of yoghurt at Namjoon who jumped in shock, bumping into Jimin who was eating jam toast and got it on his cheeks.

Huimang was slowing down with his skills as he was unable to balance or talk, unlike his older brother and sister. Kyungju came home from school sitting and telling Jeongsan all about it. Jeongsan Idolised his brother so much and had started hanging out a little more with Yoongi. Except where Kyungju was a musician at heart Jeongsan was not. Yoongi noticed and decided to take his son out the back to teach him how to play basketball, it was a tiny hoop and he explained how to throw the ball and bounce it and all different techniques. Proud when his father praised his work. Jungkook stepped out and grinned at the two, he rarely got to see his Hyung engaging in physical activity but when it came to basketball Yoongi was almost an expert.

“Dad, look Daddy Yoongi taught me how to spin the ball on my finger” he smiled and ran back inside excited.

Huimang had a taste for sweet potato, he went through a phase where that was all he would eat and he would leave the table at breakfast, lunch and dinner with stained orange cheeks.

Femme Media 44

Next chapter is coming soon…

Add yourself to the Taglist [HERE]

@obeythehemmings @delightfuldela @zxlla @dopefrancistheturd​ @h5naaa​ @topthis808​ @bubbletae7​ @narcissism-iskey @gqmf-bangtanmama​ @beach-bitch-bitch-beach​ @bunnyboyenthusiast​ @latina-nerd​ @domaindopemancom​ @rosita7703​

[ladyhistorypod]

Episode 14: Thanksgiving Special

Sources:

Susan La Flesche

The History Reader

PBS: New Perspectives on the West

Hampton University

Hampton Archives

Nebraska Studies

Further Reading/Watching: PBS American Masters, Smithsonian Magazine

Sacagawea

Brooklyn Museum

National Museum of the American Indian Blog

Native Mascots And Other Misguided Beliefs (NMAI)

National Women’s History Museum

Nat Geo Kids

Ted Ed

Further Reading: Smithsonian American Women: Remarkable Objects and Stories of Strength, Ingenuity, and Vision from the National Collection, I Am Sacagawea, Sacajawea of the Shoshone

Zitkala-Sa

Utah Women’s History

Women and the American Story

Akta Lakota Museum and Cultural Center

National Parks Service

Further Reading: Women in America, Extra and Ordinary: Zitkala-Sa (Smithsonian Libraries)

Click below for the transcript of this episode!

Haley: So how old are your guys’ parents, and did you ever growing up like regard them as like the old parents?

Alana: My… so my… Here's what's really fucking me up these days, is that Joe Biden graduated from the University of Delaware the same year my dad was born. So my dad was born in June of 1965 and Joe Biden graduated University of Delaware probably like May of 1965. So that's what's making me uncomfortable these days.

Lexi: You know when my mom graduated from the University of Delaware?

Alana: When?

Lexi: The nineties. (Laughing)

Alana: So my parents, they’re like kind of old. My mom was born in 1963, but my mom is also the third of four children.

Haley: Because my mom was born in ‘69 and my dad ‘67. And Robert’s parents… I don't know exactly when they were born but I know it's in the cluster of my parents. But my mom and dad were always regarded as like the younger parents. And it came up today because my sister's boyfriend's parents have always been regarded– my mom's like oh they’re older because my sister's boyfriend, Stephen, is the youngest of four. So my mom and dad got married three days after my mom graduated from college, but they waited seven years. Like they owned a freakin’ Subway and went backpacking in Europe before having me. Like they lived their life, if you will, and then they had kids. But all my friends, like growing up, all their parents are like five to ten years older than my parents.

Lexi: So my parents got married at twenty three.

Alana: Also ridiculous.

Lexi: They were born in 1972. No shade giving my mom’s age out, but honestly she's super young. We get mistaken for sisters no matter where we go, especially if we’re with my grandmother. They tell her she has two lovely daughters. I don't know if that's an insult to me or a compliment to my mother… 

Haley: A compliment to your mother.

Alana: It’s definitely a compliment to your mother.

Lexi: My mother was invited to frat parties when she visited me in college several times.

Haley: No, your mother is smokin’ hot. Like my mother–

Lexi: She was the marching band MILF. Do you know the song Stacy's Mom?

Alana: Of course I know Stacy's Mom.

Lexi: The marching band, when we played it would sing Lexi’s mom.

Alana, singing: Lexi’s mom has got it goin’ on.

[INTRO MUSIC]

Alana: Hello and welcome to Lady History; the good, the bad, and the ugly ladies you missed in history class. by whipping sort of as always is Lexi Lexi what are you thankful for.

Lexi: I am thankful for you guys.

Alana: That’s gross. I am also joined(ish) by Haley. Haley, are you a white meat or dark meat kinda gal?

Haley: I really like– I guess like the– like a turkey leg? That’s dark meat. That’s my jam. I'm also not necessarily a turkey person.

Alana: And I'm Alana and I'm team captain of the cranberry sauce defense squad.

[Turkeys gobbling]

Alana: I don't think there is a good word for the people who were in the Americas before white people came to the Americas.

Lexi: There is not a good single word.

Haley: I also think that it's not us as non those people… 

Alana: That's the thing. And that was the conversation that we had–

Haley: And I hate that I said “those people” because it shouldn’t be “those people” but like

but like for my grad school, we have a whole section of like repatriation, NAGPRA, all that lovely good stuff in our law class. And with our history and theory class there's always like this– kinda wanna call it a symposium?– We asked the question, and I think it was my professor who posed it, because she's like I have to talk about it and I'm a Jewish white woman. I know people like have their preference on Jewish people versus Jews and I want to be able to teach the correct thing. And everyone in the room said Native Peoples just because so many different tribes or groups don't consider themselves American. So that’s what I use. And I like that the like phrase and I’m probably– someone else probably saying this but I’m gonna make it up for myself right now; just go with what you know until you're proven wrong. Because like that's what I know and like for now.

Alana: But that's the thing that we were talking about not on the podcast, elsewhere, about how like I've never heard an actual Latinx person use the phrase Latinx.

Haley: I do not consider myself–

Alana: Except for on One Day at a Time actually.

Lexi: I feel like I always go with if I need to call someone something I'm going to ask them–

Haley: Yes.

Lexi: –What they identify as, and if I don't know them well enough to have that conversation maybe I shouldn't be speaking for them in any way… Or not speaking for them, but I shouldn't be like representing them. But it's really complicated when we talk about history because a lot of the words we use didn't exist then. Like Ida B. Wells considered herself Negro, and we wouldn't… we wouldn't probably use that word now.

Haley: Well like with pronouns. We don’t assume–

Alana: Exactly.

Haley: –pronouns. So like… Because I feel very weird when people like assume like my race or ethnicity. And I identify that… I identify with being Persian or Cuban more so than being a female if that makes sense.

Lexi: Right.

Haley: I've never… it's not like I'm non– like non binary. I identify as female but I've never been like a FEMALE.

Speaker 3: I feel like with gender it's so– so easy to once you decide to do it just start using they as a default when you're not sure what someone's preference is, and there's not that for race or ethnicity. There’s not like a default word where you can say a word and not be offensive. Like, okay. It's like the thing with the Washington Redskins which is now the Washington Football Team. There were a lot–

Alana: Which is what my cousin always called it. Was always calling it the Washington Football Team.

Lexi: Actually apparently they picked that because a lot of people did just call it that. But also it's not even in Washington DC so it frustrates the crap out of me. But apparently like a bunch of people were up in arms about it that were Native peoples but then a bunch of Native peoples were like nah it's chill. And so it's like you can't say that all these people agree on something.

Haley: Yeah.

Alana: Yeah.

Haley: That's where we go back to like–

Lexi: There isn't a single hive mind of all of these people you’re trying to represent. Everyone has these own little different versions. And so, you know, what I've been told by a lot of people is like narrow it down. Like for example if you're Omaha, you’re Omaha. If you’re Hoganashone you’re Hoganashone. Because that's how they like refer to themselves.

Haley: Yeah. Yes. And I’ve heard this too. Like– I’m gonna say this. I was on Tik Tok.

(Alana and Lexi laughing)

Lexi: Honestly cultural Tik Tok is very fun. Like culture-based Tik Tok.

Haley: I’ve landed myself on what was called by this group of Tik Tok– this flavor of Tik Tok– Native and Indigenous Tik Tok.

Lexi: Yeah I've seen that.

Haley: But I noticed that for the Tik Tok-ers who are in Canada would use Indigenous.

Alana: I will never tell someone of one group that something is not anti that group because I don't want gentiles to tell me what is and what is not antisemitic, I don't want men to tell me what is and is not misogynistic, I don't want… what's my other identity? Oh, I'm queer. I don't want straight people to tell me what is and is not homophobic–

Haley: “What's my other identity?”

Alana: “What’s my other identity?”

Lexi: “I can’t remember. I’ve got so many.”

Alana: What’s my other one? I’m like marginalized in three different ways and I don’t remember what the third one is.

Archival Audio: For our clinics are all specialized. Wednesday afternoons, for instance, we only see expectant mothers. But each one is a different problem, because each one is a different person. They feel they're special, too, and always seem amazed when they discover they have something in common with the other women, but that’s natural. After all, we all think of our health problems as personal problems.

Lexi: Today I'm going to tell you the story of Susan La Flesche, the first Native American to receive a medical degree. And as we discussed, we’re not sure exact on the terms people prefer. Susan lived a long time ago and regarded herself as Native American, that’s why I'm using that term, but I understand that some people may not use that term to refer to themselves. But she identified as that, so that's what I'm calling her. So yes, she was the first Native American to receive a medical degree. Susan was an Omaha woman. Her father Iron Eyes, or Chief Joseph La Flesche, the last Omaha chief selected by traditional tribal methods, and he was the son of a Frenchman and an Omaha woman so he was half French, half Omaha. And as a chief he believed the only way to save his people was to mix elements of their culture with Western culture and for his people to get an education. And it was these beliefs that shaped Susan's future. Her mother was One Woman, or Mary La Flesche, and Susan was born on the Omaha reservation in Nebraska in 1865. As a child Susan, witnessed a Native woman die because the local white doctor would not provide her care. This event sparked Susan’s interest in becoming a medical professional, with the goal of helping Native people. She attended a school on the reservation until she was fourteen and then she went to the Elizabeth Institute for Young Ladies in New Jersey. Can you imagine being fourteen years old and traveling from Nebraska to New Jersey on a train by yourself? That’s crazy. That’s absolutely crazy.

Alana: Goals. I wanna do it. I love trains. I love trains. I wanna do it.

Lexi: So I think she must have been really brave, because it just that's… that's pretty amazing. A long trip for a little girl.

Alana: Especially as like first of all it being a young woman which is already dangerous, no matter what, and she's also from this like marginalized community.

Lexi: Yes.

Alana: That it's like double dangerous, quadruple dangerous because she was fourteen.

Lexi: Yeah. It's crazy. It's crazy. Must’ve been really really brave. And really wanted to go to the school I guess. So she went there for three years and at seventeen Susan returned home and she taught at the Mission School on the Omaha reservation. At the school, she worked with Alice Fletcher, who was a white woman who was an ethnologist who studied and recorded American Indian culture. And she came to live and work with the Omaha because of her passion for archaeology so she wanted to study living people to better understand the past, which has been–

Alana: Ethnographic archaeology.

Lexi: Yeah it's a thing that a lot of archaeologists like to do. When Fletcher fell ill, Susan helped her recover, and after seeing Susan’s skills and passions for medicine and health care, Fletcher urged Susan to travel east and pursue a degree in medicine. Susan enrolled in the Hampton Institute, which was a school in Virginia that was built after the Civil War to educate formerly enslaved people and had since become a hub for educating Black Americans and American Indians. When Susan was attending Hampton, a woman named Dr. Martha Waldron was working as a teacher and the resident physician at the school. Martha was a graduate of the Women's Medical College of Pennsylvania and suggested that Susan pursue further education there. Alice Fletcher, who had encouraged Susan to study medicine, assisted Susan by helping her apply for scholarships from the US Office of Indian Affairs and the Women's National Indian Association. In 1889, after two years in a three year program, Susan graduated top of her class from medical school. She spent one year doing an internship, which was similar to a modern day medical residency program in Philadelphia and then she returned home. At home, she became the primary care provider for about twelve hundred people, working at the reservation’s boarding school. In 1894, she married Henry Picotte, a Sioux man who had previously been traveling and working in Wild West shows. And they kept it all in the family with Susan's sister Marguerite deciding to marry Harry's brother Charles. So… that’s… that’s fun! After getting married, Henry and Susan had two sons and Susan opened a private practice which served both non white and white patients in her community. When Henry fell ill, Susan personally nursed him, all while working full time and caring for their two sons. At the age of forty, Susan became partially deaf, but kept working. In addition to being a doctor, Susan ran a children's library, worked as a Sunday school teacher, founded a quilting club, translated legal papers, and advocated for prohibition. In 1913, she opened a reservation hospital serving Omaha and Winnebago tribes. It was the first private hospital on a reservation anywhere in the country. Today, the building is a museum dedicated to tribal history and telling the story of Susan. In 1915, at just fifty years old, Susan passed away. Susan was important to her people because as aspects of their culture were taken away from them, she was able to draw a balance between traditional medicine and the practices that she learned at Western medical school. This worked because many of her people were still unsure about Western medicine, so by mixing their traditional healing practices with Western practices, she was able to develop a culturally specific plan of treatment. Her people grew to trust her and she began to be regarded as a modern medicine woman. She is a great example of why cultural representation is important and can impact public health. I also highly suggest watching the PBS video that I linked on the tumblr in the further watching. It’s super well made and it tells a really wonderful version of her story in a lot more detail than we're able to cover on our show and it has really good tie-ins to modern needs of communities like Susan's and interviews some modern female doctors and their communities which is really cool. That’s it. Short one.

Haley: I like– I like that story a lot.

Alana: I like that story too.

Lexi: Yeah there's not a lot about her like… 

Alana: Right.

Lexi: People don't record shit, so it’s mostly just her accomplishments, unfortunately.

(Audio from Night at The Museum)

Haley: So my story is about– drum roll please– the retelling of the story of Sacagawea. And for all of you who might be screaming my name right now, saying Hey I'm not pronouncing her name correctly, hold the phone we’ll get there. I first need to do my universal apologies for pronouncing any words, even historically American English words, incorrectly because we all know me; words aren't the greatest for my speech mouth. And to start us off, I'm switching over to the like I said that actual pronunciation– Saka-Gawea. And it's Sacagawea because in my research there's not a soft G in the Hidatsa language, which translates to bird woman. So side note, there are a bunch of different spellings, but if we're going based on the true like translation– Sa-Ka-Ga is bird, and it's spelled with a G. So Sacagawea is Sacajawea but just like–

Lexi: Can I just say, that's way prettier than Sacajawea.

Haley: Yeah because like for some Sacagawea it's like you have the G, or you have S. A. K. A. K. A. W. E. A, or instead of the G. it’s a J. But there's no hard – or, there's no soft Gs it's only hard Gs. And as a person who has a really hard time pronouncing things from reading because of the dyslexia spectrum that we know to love, it's gonna– it's gonna be balls to the walls bananas.

Alana: It's like… Was it the first Night at the Museum movie or the second Night at the Museum movie where she was like a character?

Lexi: The first.

Alana: The first one. And then the museum like–

Lexi, whispering: And then she fell in love with Theodore Roosevelt

Alana: Oh yeah, and then she fell in love with Theodore Roosevelt which was so… oh NO.

Haley: I’m glad you brought that up because I cut that part out.

Lexi: That’s a whole can of worms.

Alana: But like there's that whole thing about them pronouncing it wrong but it's always Sacaga-wee-ah or Sacaga-way-a, and I’m like both of you are wrong.

Haley: Glad you brought up Night at the Museum because I had a whole tangent on that but then I was like roll back Haley your notes are already long to begin with.

Alana: You cannot expect me to not bring up Night at the Museum if it is even tangentially relevant.

Lexi: I love them, I hate them. It's an incredible thing.

Haley: Yeah.

Alana: Rami Malek!

Haley: Yes he was–

Alana: My first love!

Haley: Back to the notes. So for our listeners out of the United States, you may have heard of Sacagawea, of course with the Lewis and Clark exploring the west. However, I'm sorry– not sorry– to say that there's a solid chance that what you learned was completely incorrect and I'm looking at you United States education system. All of y’all education system just– the poop garbage, dumpster fire, whatever you would like to say. But let me pause for a second and explain a little bit why that story is kind of messed up because not only do we have like a white savior complex with like Lewis and Clark, we also just have a lot of sexism. Like sexism is painted in semen here. Like all over the board. No menstrual blood whatsoever to like brighten up this dreary painting of shit. Alana’s face right now is… holy crap what is she saying.

Alana: It's just a little bit like– Lexi what's the word that I'm looking for that is like… the sentiment behind it is that not all men have semen that not all women menstruate. Do you know I mean? That's my thing with–

Lexi: There's a single word? There's a single word for that? 

Alana: There’s like a word for something… like reducing it to… whatever.

Haley: Yes.

Alana: And transphobia isn't quite right.

Speaker 1: That’s exactly why I use the phrase all semen in here. Because it's totally like heterosexual men explaining–

Alana: Cis heterosexual men.

Haley: Yes.

Lexi: The cis white boys?

Haley: Yes.

Alana: The cis white boys.

Haley: The cis white boys. However, it's a reason why the paintbrush is a phallic symbol, that’s all I’m gonna say. And while I will probably not tell the most accurate story, it's gonna be a hell of a lot better than what we've been given to because… I'm gonna be up front. There's so much more research I could have done and that's with all our stories. Like I think I put like three hours at least into like average for each story, sometimes more. I put in a lot more for this one. While Sacagawea was a Native people who symbolized peace and cooperation as she like navigated Lewis and Clark– with you know, the baby strapped on her back that like famous trope we have– through the west and like the Pacific… to get to the Pacific Ocean. There's a lot more to that story. First, because their crew was a crew of forty plus people; it wasn't just like the three of them moseying along like a hundred percent of the time, but we'll get to that. And even before then, I don't know about you guys but I never heard of like her growing up or her as an actual Native person. It was always “she’s with Lewis and Clark. Like she with the white people now,” never her life story as a whole, just this one small part, but I learned about Lewis and Clark's whole life story. And boy Howdy am I gonna talk about how she saved all their collective buttholes. So, while this story is both Native people’s legend and journals from the Lewis and Clark that we keep talking about. And we know that oral tradition it still history. So there are holes obviously with this timeline, but we know that she was born, or we think she was born in the Shoshone tribe in Idaho and was kidnapped at age twelve, possibly age ten. What I didn't know though is that when she was kidnapped– I knew she was kidnapped, but this is bad, I didn't actually know who kidnapped her, and it was a neighboring tribe. I believe it was the Hidatsa tribe? It was noted as a rival tribe. And from there she was sold into slavery and forced to marry Toussaint Charbonneau– C. H. A. R. B. O. N. N. E. A. U., we’ll go with that– a French Canadian fur trapper who had other quote Shoshane “wives.” So this wasn't… this wasn't great. Like it wasn't great to begin with, but we're just like still riding that train of yes you're not gonna tell a bunch of elementary school kids this story but let's not paint the picture and happy childhood. And in 1804, Meriwether Lewis and William Clark recruited no other than– I'm gonna call him TC, TC because I can't pronounce either of his names and I'm gonna keep fumbling on it– to be their wilderness guide. The geography of it was that the country almost doubled in size, but the history of it was the Louisiana Purchase was acquired by France.

Lexi: Acquired from France.

Haley: Yes. They were already on their expedition by the time they met up with TC and Sacagaweas. Sacagawea, who was sixteen and pregnant at the time, accompanied the men, and she was the only female of this shitshow of a shindig. And by shitshow of a shindig, this was like forty something other men with Lewis and Clark– like they had a whole rodeo. And we see this a lot that if people went on an expedition it wasn't just that group of people but they brought like their cooks, their wives, their children, people to like bring their food, i.e. like livestock because we didn't have fridges and such. So that like was not surprising to me. What was surprising was like that's a valuable teaching point, was just like to teach kids how did people move from place to place. And this is at the point where Clark notes that she was the most valuable member of their group, because although T. C. was like hired to give them like geography, he was like a noted French Canadian and a fur trapper, but noted as like he was not good at like navigating compared to Sacagawea and like the other Native peoples in the area. It was obvious and even Lewis and Clark were like “oh, she better” which she was. And she spoke both Shoshone and Hidatsa, and so she was like the interpreter for the white men, like literally. And that's the part like they got correct– and they being like the education system– that point was correct. She was interpreter, and shout out to the Brooklyn Museum for literally giving me the quote “interpreter for the group of white men”. Even the Brooklyn Museum’s not playing around. And obviously these white men weren't liked amongst the other Native peoples tribes, but when they saw a woman who wasn't considered to be a warrior– and that's like the key point– it wasn't just that they had a Native person with them. it was that she had a child with her, she spoke their language, and like didn't give off any alarm bells. Because also like there's that misconception that all Native peoples were friendly to each other. There are different like rivalries amongst tribes. That was just pure luck for them that that worked out. And so of course Lewis and Clark wanted to make their main man TC because his fur trapping knowledge and like how he knew the geography. And like I said that was… sure, he did some stuff. But Sacagawea basically said hold my beer, and she clearly knew where she was supposed to go. She clearly knew also just like the weather patterns, where to find food, and multiple occasions when they were like the Yellowstone area and it's really cold at night… we're in the parts where it's just snowing and dark for many many many parts of the winter. And she would like be able to not only like find but like somewhat grow or just like keep food in a way that like they would be able to sustain themselves with eating. So it was like a group effort by everyone. It wasn't just like Lewis and Clark being like “we got this, we’re gonna do it, we're gonna get to the Pacific Ocean in the middle of the winter.” Fast forward a bit– and there are a bunch of other stories of her being a complete badass, like diving into water when their canoe tips over and saving like all the important stuff; food, even like Lewis and Clark's journals.But we have to move forward, sadly, to the end of her expedition and just give her a well rounded story like I said. I wanted to hear this as a kid. And while the expedition ended in 1806, she kind of still knew Lewis and Clark. And let me do a side note here she did not receive payment for this expedition. Because like, yeah. That sounds like the right thing to do, I say with all my sarcastic cells in my body. There are a lot of them, by the way, so we're all doing a chorus of sarcastic singing. And three years later in 1809– another side note this is where at least my history kind of definitely has different stories, there's no concrete this is what happened…  There wasn't Snapchat recording everything, I guess. Clark invited Sacagawea and her family to live in Saint Louis and he also later adopted her son Jean Baptiste, and he called him Pompy, and a baby girl Lisette. And it's noted that she separated from T. C. who was abusive, but after this point like our timeline, we call dates in history, we know very little. And again, with this debated topic, her death is in that category. So records from Fort Manuel where like she lived there at a time, she supposedly died in December 1812 from typhus. And going off what Native peoples’ oral histories because again, oral histories are histories, she lived on the Shoshone lands in Wyoming until 1884. And regardless, Sacagawea clearly became somewhat of a legend with her own story being told by writers, filmmakers, historians in a time where women especially Native and/or Indigenous women, were absolutely thought of as weak, not helpful, and sometimes even dangerous. So you might be asking yourself, “Haley, where do I find other resources?” Obviously check out our show notes, they are quite lovely, and honestly children's books. The most recent ones were kind of on point. They're all about like– especially now in 2020. And then specifically in the show notes look at the Brooklyn Museum and the National Women's History Museum. And that is my story.

Alana: Hey National Women’s History Museum, do you want to give me an internship?

Haley, singing: Manifestation.

(Archival Violin Music)

Alana: Zitkala-Sa was born February 22, 1876, that makes her a Pisces. She's technically an Aquarius/Pisces cusp. And Zitkala-Sa means red bird in the Sioux language. She was born on the Yankton Indian Reservation in South Dakota. Her mother was Sioux and her father was white. Her father abandoned the family and initially when I see white father, Indigenous mother… that is alarm bells in my head, but she did have an older brother, so less alarm bells. Quieter alarm bells. And just as an FYI, a blanket statement, we had the discussion that we're not really sure if we should say Native or Indigenous so I kind of use both, mixing it up. If you know someone who has an opinion let us know and we’ll use that going forward. I think that's kind of a good general statement for this podcast; is correct us if we're wrong and we'll change our ways. Because that’s how you–

Haley: Correct us with kindness.

Alana: Oh, yeah. Correct us with kindness. Be nice.

Haley: We have feelings.

Alana: We can’t handle it. Don't be mean to me. At the age of eight, so 1884 she left the reservation when Quaker missionaries came to recruit for their– massive air quotes– school and it was only a school if by school you mean forced assimilation centers, but we'll get to that a little bit later. It was literally called the White’s Indiana Manual Labor Institute, and the U. S. is still racist, I'm not saying that it’s not racist, but at least we're not racist enough to let something with a name like that slide. I feel like… baby steps, little progress. Zitkala-Sa’s mother didn't want her to go because her brother had come back from a school and she didn't like it but Zitkala-Sa begged and begged because for kids who had never left the reservation, it seemed like a magical place and it sounded so cool. Her mother did eventually acquiesce because there were no schools on the reservation and she really wanted Zitkala to have an education. But she later wrote that the second she got on the train to Indiana she regretted fighting so hard for it. She was forced to cut her hair and pray like a Quaker, which she hated. Pray like a Christian is like…  that's intergenerational trauma in my heart. She actually hid from the people who were working at the school and they had to tie her to a kitchen chair and cut her hair. I don't know if it was actually a kitchen chair, I just wanted to make a Leonard Cohen reference. Hey Alana, are you Jewish? Yes. But she really did enjoy learning how to read and write and to play the piano and the violin. She was given the name Gertrude Simmons, which is a footnote that will only come up at the very end of the story. In 1887, she returned to her mother's home but she felt like she didn't belong there. And this was a common theme among children who had been sent to these– massive air quotes– schools because they felt like they didn't really belong to their Indigenous culture but they also weren't really like the white Americans. In 1895, she enrolled at Earlham College for a teacher training program and then transferred to the New England conservatory to continue studying violin. In 1900, she became a music teacher at the Carlisle Indian School but left because it reminded her of her traumatic experiences at a similar school. She basically came to the realization, she was just like “oh shit, they are designed to take our culture from us.” She was like “I couldn’t be part of that anymore.” In 1901, she published Old Indian Legends, which was a compilation of all of her previous writings and culminated in a lifelong project of translating Sioux traditions into English, because this is a quote from her from the beginning of the book, “America in the last few centuries has acquired a second tongue,” which is so shady. And I love it. “Acquired a second tongue” is just like. Mm. So also in 1901 she went back to South Dakota and took a job at the United States Bureau of Indian Affairs, which I will refer to going forward as the B. I. A., where she met Captain Raymond Bonnin, who was also a Sioux, but I couldn't find what his like Sioux name was, since he was also full Sioux, but probably not Raymond. But then they did have a son and name him Raymond so I’m not sure.I don't know. They were transferred to Utah, where Zitkala-Sa taught again, but not at a white school, at a reservation school where the children lived at home and she found that like to be a balance. In 1910, she met William Hansen who was a music professor at Brigham Young University, and in 1913 they completed The Sun Dance Opera which was about a Sioux ritual that the federal government had banned, which I think is… What a workaround. What a way to beat the system. She viewed music as a way to bridge the cultures that she was a part of and it did, and that culminated in The Sun Dance Opera. She joined the Society of American Indians, which is a group that lobbied for citizenship for Indigenous people and cultural preservation because nuance. Which is a thing that I am feeling recently. Just nuance. Tattoo it on my forehead, shout it from the rooftops. Nuance. She became the secretary of the Society of American Indians and started interacting directly with the B. I. A. where her husband worked. She was very critical and vocal of their policies because they wanted her to pray like a Christian which– (frustration noises). The intergenerational trauma, she just– she do be jumping out. And her husband was fired. Was it because of her criticism of the B. I. A? Maybe? Who’s to say? I can't say, but maybe. But they moved to Washington DC, where she started giving lectures about cultural identity and continued her work with the Society of American Indians. She even was briefly the editor of American Indian magazine. In 1924 she became active in the General Federation of Women's Clubs, which was like a women's rights group but make it intentionally diverse. It was grassroots campaigns to support women of all backgrounds, and we simply have no choice but to stan.

Lexi: Intersectional feminism.

Alana: Intersectional feminism. We love it, we love to see it, we love to see intersectional feminism like in the twentieth century, before it was cool, if you will. She started a universal Indigenous movement that led to the passage of the 1924 Indian Citizenship Act which, as the name implies, gave Indigenous people citizenship but not necessarily the right to vote because that was still up to the states. In 1926, she co founded with her husband the National Council of American Indians to continue lobbying for the rights of Indigenous people. She died January 26, 1938 at the age of not quite sixty two and is buried in Arlington Cemetery with her husband. Her gravestone reads Gertrude Simmons and then Zitkala-Sa which makes me feel a little bit weird but at least it's on there. I don't know if she like had a choice what went on there but I think it's cool that it's on there. And she was the first Indigenous woman to write her own autobiography without the help of an editor or translator because she was just good at English. She was also very anti use of peyote, which is really interesting because she was like alcoholism on the reservations is a huge problem and so we need to like do something about our ingesting of substances. It’s like all these things are about nuance which is something that I'm again I'm feeling so so much about nuance. It's something that I've been working on in therapy for like three years. That's not true, for two years. That I'm just like we can have two things that coexist– that like it would be in everybody's best interest to be an American citizen, but that doesn't necessarily mean that all of these Native people have to abandon their rituals and their culture. It’s that whole melting pot thing which is such a like when you think about a kind of a weird image… put people in a melting pot. Anyway. That’s a fun note to end on. That’s all I have to say.

Lexi: I just want to add that I think I've mentioned this before on the podcast but I worked on a project at the Smithsonian Libraries called Women in America: Extra and Ordinary. I'm the one who suggested this lady because I thought Alana would like learning about this lady, and I just want to kind of talk about a little bit why I put her in the project. The thing that I love about her is that the Portrait Gallery has pictures of her that were taken when she was quite young. I believe in her twenties.

Alana: They’re gorgeous.

Lexi: And they're beautiful because they're so like real. Like–

Alana: I think my favorite one is– now that I've mentioned it Lexi, you probably have to use it in the graphic– but it's her having grown her hair back out with her violin.

Lexi: Yes.

Alana: And it's just like how it's like… Once you know the background of that, it's like this is how she combined these two cultures by like really enjoying playing the violin and also having her long traditional hair.

Lexi: She’s just so like… It's like she could be your friend. Like she’s just a real person. And so like, I don't know. They’re good pictures. Go look at her pictures.

Alana: Go to the show notes, look at the pictures, they’re great pictures.

Lexi: And– Okay, I think– Okay, this is the root of it. I think when you see pictures of Native peoples from that time, so many times it's like they're wearing like outfits that aren't even correct for their culture and they were forced to pose in like ridiculous like customized versions of their own culture. Like I've seen ones where people who weren’t Plains Indians were put in Plains Indians’ attire for pictures. But like she's just hanging out and I really like that. I just love her. So much.

Alana: She’s so cool.

Lexi: And her name means red bird.

Alana: And her name means red bird, and Lexi loves birds. Lexi loves birds.

(Turkeys gobbling)

Lexi: You can find this podcast on Twitter and Instagram at LadyHistoryPod. Our show notes and a transcript of this episode will be on ladyhistorypod dot tumblr dot com. If you like the show, leave us a review, or tell your friends, and if you don't like the show, keep it to yourself.

Alana: Our logo is by Alexia Ibarra, you can find her on Twitter and Instagram at LexiBDraws. Our theme music is by me, GarageBand, and Amelia Earhart. Lexi is doing the editing. You will not see us, and we will not see you, but you will hear us, next time on Lady History.

[OUTRO MUSIC]

Haley: Next week on Lady History, we're balling with some boss bitches. Get your bags of money ready, because we’re making it rain.

Lexi: Okay. All right.

Haley: Good night!

Alana: I gotta crawl out of my closet.

Lexi: Good night!

Alana: Good night I'll talk to you tomorrow!

Lexi: Bye bye.

[myherorp]

THE QUIRK DATABASE HAS BEEN UPDATED !

incoming information on villain, noface.

get to know them !

faceclaim: krystal jung, actress

name: go horang

villain name: noface

gender & pronouns: female, she/her

age: 26

association: sister anarchy

occupation: nurse at a private clinic

reputation: true to her codename, noface is never not seen with a mask on—hiding most everything but her eyes. she’s notoriously prickly as a person and runs a rather short fuse. namely, she seldom works with anyone outside of sister anarchy and even then, shows more teeth than necessary when partnering up. as a villain, she’s quite noncommittal to the “villain handbook” with little interest in taking cities and more of a preference in watching things burn.

the quirk !

quirk name: abyss (no return)

quirk description: in layman’s terms, noface’s body is a gateway to a pocket universe that only she can access. by “opening the gate” to the pocket dimension, she can either black holes that suck up everything in its path or simple portals.

abilities: 

black hole creation/manipulation: noface is able to create and manipulate black holes of various sizes, be it on her person or in her general vicinity. said black holes will suck in and disintegrate anything (matter, energy, light) in its path at an atomic level. at her level of proficiency, she is able to control the danger level of her black holes—from level 1, a stagnant black hole with no end (and will only suck in things it comes in contact with) to level 10, which is high suction levels and no means to escape (lest she closes it). she is able to mold said black holes into various shapes, though namely spheres and disks.

void form: noface can render her body “void”, in which her body (head down) is “eaten” by her quirk and basically becomes a homogenous form of a human-sized black hole. which then makes her invulnerable to most attacks.

void sphere: able to mold black holes into manageable “void spheres” the size of baseballs, noface can manipulate said spheres up to a certain range. unprovoked, they simply float about harmlessly—once it touches any sort of matter, the sphere “pops” and turns into a mini black hole that grows with the more matter it sucks in.

personal void: being that it is her own pocket universe, noface is able to store items and/or beings in it and retrieve them later as she wishes. the portal to the void itself tends to be difficult to access/create and the only way seems to be to reach through a small ping-pong “hole” on her abdomen.

weaknesses: 

black hole creation/manipulation: it takes about 3 seconds for noface to open a black hole via touch (i.e. if she’s touching any matter, like a wall or a person) and 6 seconds from a distance (i.e. couple feet away). although this also depends heavily on size. opening the gate for a small hole as defense takes less than a second. the higher level of danger/suction, the longer it takes to open. the range of which the latter is possible goes as far as 60ft away. black holes opened by noface must be closed by noface, otherwise it will continue to suck up anything in its path. at the moment, she is only able to simultaneously open 4 high suction black holes without backlash. the more she pushes to create black holes, the more it eats at her energy and puts her quirk at risk of instability, possibly rendering her unable to close any of the black holes she’s created . it is also to note that pushed to the limit, the miniature doorway on her abdomen also tears and grows in size—running the risk of sucking herself in through the hole.

void form: noface is unable to fully render her body “void” as her head must always remain for her to be able to properly control the form. this leaves her vulnerable (and thus, she wears a mask composed of a tough alloy to protect her weak spot). this form can only be held for 10 minutes tops. and though it will suck in/disintegrate any attack, there is a limit to how much before the hole gets unstable and she is forced to revert from the form.

void sphere: the spheres she creates are infinite, though the more noface creates, the lesser the effectiveness of the spheres. the standard range is 60ft, but for personal comfort, noface usually opts to plant them in the 20ft-30ft category. using them as tripwire and keeping others at a distance; like a sort of active minefield.

personal void: the pocket universe is limitless, though entirely unsuitable for any living beings. noface mainly uses it for “storage” (though questionable, since everything just floats aimlessly, anything “stored” is quite difficult to dig out) and cannot hide in it either, as, again, she would not survive in it.

mutation: on noface’s body (lower left abdomen precisely) is a “living” black hole the size of a ping-pong. its suction and danger level is low, but tends to grow over a long duration of use of her quirk. she usually keeps it taped up to keep from it tearing into her favorite tops.

the history !

triggers: murder

the world exists in black and white. right and wrong. good and evil. often times the lines would blur, darkest blacks smear and corrode purest whites into varying blotches of grey. go horang lives in this exact world, where black distorts white and good lingers in evil.

the gos is an inspired tale. long winded story about star-crossed lovers of different affinities that’s managed to find each other in the harsh reality of the world. a cautionary tale of a villain and a hero. how their love fostered the birth of something that’s neither one or the other. how their love, idealized, cannot withstand the tests of time and morality. and the creature they bore, known as go horang, forever teeters precariously between white and black.

little monster. dad coins the name for her fondly. not because of her appearance or quirk, but because of her nastier, feistier personality points. young horang stands to be selfish and harsh as they come, festering poor relations with her classmates in grade school. not that it could be helped—to, have a “reformed” villain for a dad in the age of heroes. evil is evil, no matter how hard you try to do good. horang wished she understood the concept better then.

mom reigns with an iron fist. horang doesn’t see it in her younger years, but as she grows it’s easy to note the power imbalance. to see the extent dad goes to placate her. the power she has in the household. the black/evil she tries so hard to purge. in her husband, her daughter, her. the teachings she tries to engrain in her early on—stay prim, proper, good.

for the most part, horang is. was. for the most part, from birth to ages 12-14, she tried her best (barring complications of incidents where she’d lost her temper) to be the perfect daughter. to, like dad carefully explained time and time again, cater to mom’s demands. after all she gave up being a hero to be with me. but, what does that have to do with me, dad?

her quirk develops late compared to most, though that too, needs to be taken into account of the nature of her quirk. evidently, she had been unknowingly opening and closing the gates, generating tiny black holes that had been sucking up minor trinkets before evaporating. it wasn’t until the open “hole” developed on her abdomen was her quirk confirmed. and with it—differing reactions.

disappointment is inevitable. at the end of the day, horang is more like her dad than mom would’ve liked. down to quirks, which seems to be a spinoff of dad’s gravity quirk rather than mom’s energy quirk. and though till this day, she isn’t entirely sure of how things came to be—to completely fall apart so badly. how their self-proclaimed worth giving everything up for love backfired in the faces of the entire family.

horang can’t claim to know, can’t say she had been focused on the gradual decay of their love at home when she’s fixated with school. making it through, without any incidents that are too harrowing was a feat on its own. though, with her acceptance into u.y, things gradually slowed within the go house. with her being the glue that barely held things together.

u.y is a blur. daughter of a villain is a moniker horang carries on her back. it alienates her, though not so much as the semester continues. she makes friends, yes. but reserves are held there always. judgement is quick to be passed should any conflict arises. and the finger is always pointed at someone with bad blood pumping through her veins. year two, after failing to acquire her provisional hero license, horang returns home to years of broken trust, jaded love and quiet resentment blowing up in the living room. then, she makes a choice.

you can’t undo evil. certain lines aren’t meant to be crossed, certain sins are better left untouched, certain urges are supposed to be ignored. patricide is one. by the time horang realizes it’s too far (it’s not what she wants), she stands a trembling figure over pools of rich red. and by then horang realizes, a tough lesson as ever to learn—there is no white and black. there is no permanent good, no hero without any wrong. no villain without any good. go horang lives predominantly in grey. predominantly damned when she forces mom’s hand to join her in sin, to smear her whites with blobs of black the moment her quirk eats dad whole; rendering his existence to none and mom’s pride as a hero utterly diminished when she decides to cover it up for the daughter who saved her.

from there, it’s a steep decline. it’s three more months in u.y before she transfers out. three more months of mom being unable to look at her before she moves out. it’s a couple months (post graduation) of sidekick-ing before calling it quits. it’s the beckoning of new friends before committing her first second crime. it’s the couple after before it gets easier and easier. it’s the invitation to a sisterhood before she realizes—just as mom’s predicted—she’s exactly like her dad.

the personality !

seemingly unapproachable, the vibes that horang gives off is one of someone scorned, someone guarded and bitter. she’s intimidating as a person from gaze alone, though it doesn’t help that her tongue is exceptionally sharp (and so, she’s semi-unpleasant if she particularly loathes a person); and throughout the years has completely ditched the “good girl” teachings mom’s engrained in her. she has a preference for “weird” things, likes to collect bugs etc and has a semi-obsessive personality when it comes to things that she likes (things she must have). her sense of humor is more crude than most, being especially aggressive when it comes to competitions of any kind. not liked to be looked down at, she especially loses her temper when anybody talks down to her. all this, though, mostly comes from years of being talked down to by kids her age while being told to “be the better person” from her mom. though she currently works in a private clinic as a “cover”, her normal everyday persona is not much different with her coming off as cold to her coworkers.

[legacixs]

( ISKRA LAWRENCE, CIS FEMALE, SHE/HER ) ⌇ have you seen LORELEI MOORE around icaria? they are the 26 year old child of PERSEPHONE. they remind me of THE FIRST WARM DAY OF SPRING, LAVENDER SWAYING IN THE BREEZE, A YELLOW RAINCOAT ON A RAINY DAY.

+ empathetic, intellectual, gentle, fair-minded, creative, nurturing, realistic, resilient – over-sensitive, self-isolating, nosy, obsessive, domineering, temperamental, indecisive

                                                           pinterest | playlist 

𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐲

lorelei never knew her birth father. he was young, from what her adoptive parents told her. in his twenties, not yet ready to be a dad. he never suspected that his brief time with the goddess of spring would leave him with a child to care for.

she only met her birth mother a few times — nothing more than a exchange on a couple of her birthdays, and however pleasant they were, it wasn’t much.

her adoptive parents were her real parents. they were the only consistent family she’s ever known — her mom, nora; her dad, luis; her brother, christopher; her sister, ophelia.

nora and luis weren’t high school sweethearts, or childhood best friends. they both found one another after each having gone through divorces from their first spouses. chris, the eldest, was the ring bearer at their wedding (at 6, he was barely old enough not to stick the ring in his mouth or nose.)

they tried to get pregnant for many years, but were unsuccessful. they went to fertility clinics, tried every trick everyone ever tells you, and had no child to show for it.

with nothing but love and hope in their hearts, they began the adoption process. that’s when they met lorelei, a five year old girl with a kind soul and bad luck with foster homes.

she spent the first four years of her life with the kline family, who were unable to continue caring for her when mrs. kline fell ill. and then she moved in with the farley family — they weren’t mean, but they yelled a lot, and their son who was older than her got a lot of joy out of making her cry.

thankfully, both luis and nora fell in love with her and young lorelei found herself in what would eventually feel like home.

it was strange at first, and she often wondered if she’d have to leave there too. especially when nora became pregnant mere months later.

“it always happens when you stop trying!”

“two kids in less than a year; you must be busy.”

“guess you didn’t have to adopt after all!” people said.

lorelei spent what felt like the eternity of nora’s pregnancy hoping that she wouldn’t have to leave. but when little ophelia was born, and nora and luis invited lorelei to “come say hi to your little sister”, she knew she was here to stay.

lorelei’s childhood was normal after that. the moore family lived in a backwoods town in pennsylvania — surrounded by trees, farms, and more plants than lorelei could ever dream. it was here that her powers started to manifest; suitably a surprise for all involved. fields would bloom in her wake; and likewise, crops would wither behind her. she either had the best green thumb, or killed every plant she touched (like many others, her powers seemed heavily influenced by mood.)

it was an adjustment, to say the least. it was thanks to the help of persephone when she visited on lorelei’s ninth birthday. with her guidance, they all grew used to little lorelei’s abilities.

she was a shy child (a fact that surprises people when they meet her now) but sometimes the world was just too much. hyper-sensitive, young demigod lorelei felt things more extremely than others, and so she started picking up isolation techniques.

her favorite was hiding, while still being able to observe. she didn’t want to be completely away from the world, just hidden in the shadows. she’d sit under a weeping willow along a busy town road and watch the world pass by for hours. now she often sits on park benches with noise canceling headphones, watching the world go by without feeling overwhelmed.

she’d enjoy her alone time with a sketch pad or journal; she’d scribble the hours of the day away until her parents or christopher called for her to come back inside.

overall she had a happy childhood, once she settled with her family. she was never popular in school, though that was perhaps a reality of her own making. she often befriended the people others wouldn’t and, when told that she would be “cool if she didn’t hang out with such losers” lorelei quickly stood up for her friends and told those classmates exactly what she thought of them.

never afraid to speak her mind in the face of injustice, her morals were as high as her judgement.

she became something of a self-proclaimed friend to the lonely, despondent, isolated.

many of them proved to be fantastic friends, wrongly misjudged by their peers. unfortunately, a select few proved to be emotionally manipulative and toxic — the most notable of the latter being her ex-boyfriend.

their year of dating left her insecure, shattered, and fearful. she prefers not to discuss it in detail, even now. it was only through the support of her family (even if they remained unaware of what was even going on) and their fresh start in another country that helped her to recover.

helsinki, finland became their home when lorelei was just 17. it was a new beginning, even if she hadn’t recognized it at the time. and the picturesque, european architecture would serve as the backdrop for her later teen, college, and young adult years.

despite her anxieties of starting college somewhere new, with no friends in the area, lorelei thrived. she pursued writing, and came to love her craft. she also tried to minor in illustration, but after two years came to realize that she preferred it as something done on her own time, than as an assignment.

her confidence blossomed, as did her powers. although she still had her moments of weakness, lorelei’s control over her abilities made her quite the local botanist. she’d spend her afternoons between classes tending to helsinki’s parks, plants and trees. springs became more beautiful every year, summers became richer; and during fall and winter, lorelei’s apartment bloomed with all of the plants that wouldn’t survive the cold.

a sweet soul, has that “old soul” vibe

big pisces energy

doesn’t trust love and fears intimacy (physical and not) after her terrible relationship

adopted

her family is her family

but does sometimes wonder what her birth dad is like...

is a lucky demigod to have met her birth mom

loves her siblings very much

christopher is 3 years older than her, ophelia is 5 years younger

ophelia is high energy and reckless

christopher is super serious and responsible

she’s somewhere in the middle

her parents never worried much about her

she kind of had most stuff handled

or she hid it VERY well

none of them knew she went through a toxic relationship

had some body image issues growing up

is trying to learn to love her body

had the biggest collection of stuffed animals as a kid. her mom definitely has more than 1 photo of her sitting in a pile of plushies

soft but strong??

shares persephone’s dichotomy of spring goddess/queen of hell

is actually p good at being emotionally vulnerable

feels things very intensely

wears glasses (even tho iskra doesn’t but let’s just imagine-)

works as a writer!

wants to write a book but pays the bills by writing for an online magazine

more sarcastic than she seems at face value

she has to be comfortable with you to show that side of her

people are surprised she swears

stronger than she looks

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

FAMILY — unknown birth father (would be around 48-52), older brother christopher (29-30) and younger sister ophelia (20-21). either could be demigods, technically. chris is nora’s son, with an unnamed father. and ophelia was thought to be the only full child of nora and luis, but maybe there was some divine intervention with nora’s miracle pregnancy, if you will. 

FRIENDS — lorelei is a wonderful friend, so these are a must! she’s from helsinki, but lived in the north eastern US prior to that. she works as a writer (remotely) and is often finding different places around town to write. she frequents stores, coffee shops, anywhere that lets her sit and focus on her work. i’d love for her to have a core group of friends that she can rely on (she’s got big mom friend energy)

ROMANCE — not impossible, but certainly difficult. lorelei has been closed off to love and intimacy since her teens, after a severely toxic relationship. but she wants to be in love. the idea of it is very appealing, and while she’s attempted to date or try putting herself out there again, when faced with the opportunity she gets scared and backs out. there’d have to be a lot of trust and patience from both parties, but it’s definitely something i’d love for her! all genders welcome

ENEMIES — it’s not entirely difficult to make an enemy of lorelei... though she isn’t antagonistic, she does become intolerable of people who push her buttons. it borders on rude at times, if she feels she’s been pushed far enough. generally they’d have to be rude to someone, talk down to her, treat her like she’s stupid, etc. she’s also capable of changing her opinion of people! so the “enemies to friends” trope is an option

[jenniferdiazisatransgirl]

10 Years

Hey guys,

So I’m presently at work doing a night shift and it is leaving me with a lot of time to think. Sat in a building full of antiques, where it is dead quiet. And of course we are in the last month of the decade. It is causing me to reflect and honestly, to think how much has changed, it is weird to even think. And to think where I am now, that’s quite weird too.

I started the decade, January 2010 still in my parental home, living with my homophobic and transphobic Mum. I was at college who were continuing the process of getting me out of my parental home. Something my school, Notre Dame Catholic High School started while coordinating with my local LGBT youth group and Connexions. It was a process that took awhile but the consensus from my school, college, GP, Connexions, counsellor and pretty much every other service involved was that I needed removing from my Mum’s house. I really couldn’t cope.

By June 2010, I was finally given a spot in supported housing. Moving didn’t go smoothly. I tried to sneak all my stuff out with £12 to my name while my Mum was at work. I had a lot of stuff and even with a friend helping I couldn’t get it all on a bus. I awkwardly rang my grandparents who had no idea what I was planning and they helped me move my stuff and get me set up with some essentials. I still owe my grandparents a lot for the support they gave me that first 2 years or so but I was so grateful. After that, me and my Mum wouldn’t speak to each other again until Christmas.

On the 24th October 2010, it was my 18th birthday and I got a phone call from Porterbrook Gender Identity Clinic. I had been on the waiting list since I was 15 thanks to a very understanding GP who went above and beyond to support me and although he was quite ignorant on trans issues, he did his best. That phone call was a fantastic birthday present though.

By Christmas 2010 me and my Mum were talking again. Our relationship was very strained but over the years, space has allowed us to have a relationship. The trans issue is kinda the elephant in the room which we don’t speak of but we at least sorta get along now.

For the next 2 years things wouldn’t go great and I would get more and more depressed and suicidal to the point where I was going to kill myself on my 20th birthday. I moved out of supported housing into a council house I was struggling to afford on a zero hour contract job and a pyramid scheme and payday loan companies took advantage of my vulnerable situation. At 19 I was too savvy with finances still and with no credit rating I had few options available to me. And meanwhile things at the GIC were so slow I thought I would never be happy and would never get to be myself. To make matters worse, I had no friends and only really went out for work which remember I had a 0 hour contract job at minimum wage. I pulled in £400 during a good month and my rent was £320 per month.

On the 22nd October 2012, 2 days before my 20th birthday (the day I was going to end it all), I got the news that saved my life. I was going to be put forward for hormones and by February 2013 I got my first prescription. With that came a massive boost in confidence and by May 2013 I joined a local LGBT youth group and began to make new friends. By September 2013 I started university training to become a maths teacher and things finally started to look up. I was busy everyday, I was having fun, I was increasing in confidence and things were finally starting to look up.

In Summer 2014 after a friend got kicked out of their parental home, I invited them to leave with me and agreed to split rent and bills. This turned out to be a mistake. The relationship turned sour and the living situation was so unbearable I was sleeping on a friends couch. She moved out in August 2015 but made sure to turn all my friends against me as they did it. All my confidence I’d built up, all the friends I made over that 2 years with the exception of 1 gone. It crushed me.

I stopped going to my local LGBT youth group and started to going to a group run by the Proud Trust in Manchester. I’d been on one of their residentials, had a few people I knew there and it was away from Sheffield where my life had been shattered. Between university and there, I gradually rebuilt my confidence and trust in people and made new friends.

In June 2016 I finally had my surgery and I was so happy, however I had some major post-surgery depression. This was when my asthma really started to play up too. 2 new friends moved in with me. And I adjusted to trying to figure out what my life should be after surgery. I’d tunnelled visioned to that goal for so long, once it came I realised I had no idea what I was doing after and I had put a lot of other issues on the back burner. I was overwhelmed to say the least.

By February 2017, my gender was legally changed and I was issued a new birth certificate. I also started this blog which has done wonders at helping increase my confidence and I thank you guys all immensely so thank you.

In August 2018, I dropped out of university having not even completed my second year after 5 years at university, lol and £45,000+ in student debt. It was a calculated decision and I had since September 2017 made my university aware I was planning on dropping out. University did it’s job, it got me where I wanted and needed to be. My career goals changed during university and a degree was no longer a necessity but the skills I learnt on my course were invaluable and I wouldn’t have the job and contacts have now without them.

Fast forward to December 2019; I’m a cover supervisor, tutor, exam invigilator, teaching assistant, event safety steward and car park steward. I where many hats in my jobs and honestly I have more than I listed I think. My finances aren’t perfect as I am still recovering from my years of being in debt, but they get better every year. I have a wonderful cat called Mr Gold. I have amazing friends. I’ve completed my transition goals. And I have so much further to go. I would like FFS one day, I still need some more hair removal, I want to go into pastoral care, it would be nice to have a job where I have contracted hours as I still do 0 hour contract jobs but over this last decade I have come so far from where I started out and I am so happy about that. If you told me in January 2010 this is where I would be by December 2019 I would be like, “No way. You are lying to me.”

I realise this is long but I just wanted to share and for anyone reading this who is back where I was in January 2010, I just want you to know it does get better. It may take a while but it does get better.

[carmintros]

@ariwalters     /      ❛   ｡   ✩   ﾟ my eyes are probably playing tricks on me again, but is that really  awsten knight? oh, wait, it’s just  adrian “ari” lance walters. yes, that  twenty-four  year old  drummer, who i am pretty sure is a  visitor. according to the talk of the town, he is incredibly  flighty & unpredictable, yet undeniably  outgoing & adventurous. that is precisely why  a playground at dawn, a carnival ride that just keeps spinning, chasing waves on a beach, laughing until you cry & jackson pollock paintings  remind me of them so much, but then again you know what they say about  leos, we’ll see how that one turns out !   penned by kit  /  mst & they / them

car crash tw, ptsd tw, alcoholism tw

Ari Walters

Age: 24

Gender: Non-binary, he/him

[Between the Bars] - “Haha, not totally sure why this one comes to mind but like everyone says it’s like me with alcohol and stuff but I don’t really see it, I think I’m fine.”

D.O.B: August 15, 1995

Why the name Ari?

“Oh! I was named after my dad ‘cept he was always called Adrian so they called me Ari so no one got confused or anything!! It always worked really good too!”

Ethnicity: white

Relationship Status: In multiple relationships “I fall a little in love with everyone, I think, because everyone is beautiful and wonderful. I’m kind of the classic definition of poly, lol. People underestimate how much communication that takes though!”

Sexual Orientation: pan “Like I said, I fall in love with everyone! I can’t help it, haven’t you ever watched someone go about their life and you can just tell if they’re gentle or rough, if they need love or if they’re loved, et cetera? I love it and I love them.”

Appearance:

Height: 5’7

Ari resembles a puppy with ADHD. He is constantly moving, constantly engaged with the world and constantly interacting with everyone around him. He has to be active. If he sits still he might fall asleep and he still gets nightmares of the wreck.

His signature ‘thing’ has been his dyed hair for years. He doesn’t think he would recognize himself without it at this point. He thought about dying it back to brown for April Fools day one year but realized it’s been so long since seeing his real hair that he didn’t remember what color to get to match his roots.

Ari has an almost compulsive seeming need to be the most colorful person in any space he’s in. He wants to stand out and he does so by being a walking color wheel. Strangely, he manages to make his outfits cohesive.

You can’t get too close to Ari without noticing how tired he always looks. His eyes are always a little swollen and bloodshot and his skin has the uncomfortable thin appearance of someone much older or much sicker than him. If he’s asked about it he jokes that he’s just ugly (though most people would agree he is anything but ugly).

History:

Ari can split his life into a perfect before and after the wreck.

Before. Ari had a perfectly wonderful childhood. He was loved and taken care of in his historical Boston home. His dad taught Marine Biology at Harvard, his mom was the perfect socialite and Ari and his sisters were happy

His days consisted of school and drawing and going to the beach with his dad to learn about the animals. If Ari was to assign an emotion to that period of his life it would be love. If he had to assign a color it would be pink.

His life before was like something from a 50s sitcom. It was perfect. He knows rationally that he’s seeing through rosy lenses. He thinks he remembers his dad having an affair. He knows his sister and he argued a lot and he was such a mischievous child it kept him in trouble a lot of the time. He knows this. But it feels different. It feels idyllic compared to after.

His entire world shattered when he was 13. His family shouldn’t have even been out. If only he hadn’t argued with his sister. If only he had just set the table then maybe his dad wouldn’t have suggested eating out. Maybe if his mom and little sister had been home instead of in California they could have told his dad no, it wasn’t their day for eating out and they would all be fine eating at the house. Maybe if his sister hadn’t forgotten her phone and made them turn back so she could retrieve it because she was so scared of missing a text from her boyfriend.

Maybe….

Maybe they wouldn’t have been crossing the intersection when the other driver plowed through it. Maybe they wouldn’t have spun out and hit another car. Maybe his dad and his sister and the little boy from the other car and the driver who caused it all would still be alive. Maybe…

After. Ari doesn’t remember the crash itself. He doesn’t remember seeing his father’s body crushed against the interior of their car even though he’s since been told he was trying to pull him out. He doesn’t remember his sister’s glassy, dead stare though he was told he screamed at her to wake up. He doesn’t remember the ambulance ride but he’s told he fought the paramedics to try to get to his family.

He doesn’t remember getting to the hospital and being admitted.

He only starts remembering sitting in that big hospital room alone for what felt like hours (he knows now that it was only a few minutes at a time) while nurses bustled past the door outside trying to focus on the lives that were at risk after the crash. Even still, the evening comes in flashes. A teary eyed woman with a heavy accent telling him his mom would be there soon and rubbing his back. A doctor, young and frazzled, bursting into his room to tell the cops to leave and stop asking him about it. The smell of oil and burning metal seared so strongly into his skin it made his head hurt.

He remembers the funeral. Closed casket, both buried at the same time. He remembers packing up the house and selling it and moving to New York. He doesn’t think he felt real during that time. He kept waiting to wake up and find out it was just a terrible dream. Part of him still hopes he wakes up.

–

His mom didn’t try to neglect his mental health when they moved. Despite having help from family she still had to take on two jobs, she had two children to raise alone and she had just lost her husband and little girl. It was hard to be everything Ari needed her to be too.

She did her best. He was sent to a mental health clinic and given regular therapy sessions for a while where he was diagnosed with PTSD and a trauma based phobia regarding riding in cars.

She put him in music lessons to give him an outlet. She enrolled him in an arts high school so he could find similarly minded creative young people and hopefully make friends in their new city.

It didn’t really work. You can’t throw a shattered kid back into society and expect them not to drown. And Ari drowned.

When he was almost 15 he tasted alcohol for the first time at a sleepover. The idea of it had fascinated him since the wreck. How could one liquid be so influential that it would lead you to kill other people? What did it feel like to slip into a haze that strong.

His first sip was revolting. It burned on the way down and he was convinced he could still feel it burning his stomach. He almost put the bottle up and gave up on learning its allure. Something about it still called to be explored and who was Ari to say no?

He snuck the bottle into his bag and drank a little more the next day after school. Just enough to feel warm again and for his brain to quiet and center just a little bit more.

The alcohol made everything better. He felt more human again when he was tipsy. It didn’t take long for Ari to begin to crave it just to function. He started stealing it from his mom’s cabinet and then from the sweet old lady who paid him to take her groceries upstairs. When he was caught stealing from them he started trying to steal it from stores.

He was caught right away, of course, but not by an employee. Instead he was caught by a tall, average looking man in his early 30s. The man, who Ari soon learned was named Sean, offered to buy the alcohol for Ari and invited Ari over to drink with his girlfriend Eliana. Ari agreed immediately.

That night he lost his virginity to the pair. The two adults offered to keep Ari’s alcohol supply always filled so long as he continued to sleep with them. Ari instantly agreed.

—-

After he started drinking he somehow managed to pull his grades up. He felt real when he was drunk. He felt functional. He could do his coursework and practice the drums and paint and even explore New York. He quickly fell in love with the city and learned how to navigate his borough on his skateboard. He learned what buildings he could sneak into and hookup with classmates in without being caught, all the best places for graffiti and where the coolest homeless people hung out.

As Ari progressed through his teenage years his ‘adventures’ got crazier. He broke into the zoo ones and barely escaped getting caught. He hitchhiked out of the city and spent a weekend far upstate before calling his mom from a payphone and getting her to pick him up. He smuggled paint into his homeroom and painted an abstract mural on the teacher’s desk.

Not everything was illegal. He once snuck into an early morning wholesale flower market and convinced a florist to buy him enough white roses to leave one on every grave in The Cathedral Basilica of St. James cemetery and even convinced some of his friends to help him distribute them. He raised money once and bought everyone at his school pizza for lunch so “the lunch people get a day off.”

When he was asked to play drums for a new band that was forming he had to say yes. It was just a chance at another adventure.

—-

He never expected them to get as famous as they did. He figured they would disband rapidly and he could go to college for marine biology. Like his dad. Obviously, that didn’t happen.

Miraculously for all of Ari’s adventures and alcoholism he didn’t have any major scandals during the bands active time. He left that for Jae.

Instead he tried to fly under the radar. He didn’t want anyone picking up on his issues. He maintained his alcoholism, adventured in the cities they toured through and focused on art when they weren’t making music.

—

Slowly he began to tire of not remembering as much of his life as he wanted to. People Ari had no memory of would come up to him as though they knew him. He got an STI without even knowing who it was from. He woke up in places he had never seen before. He destroyed things in his house and drove people away.

The catalyst came just before the band was put on hiatus and he was approached by an ex. Apparently during a drunken escapade he hadn’t used protection and had gotten the girl pregnant a few years ago. She’d had the baby and suddenly he was being asked if he wanted to be a father. He didn’t, of course, but he also didn’t want this to ever happen again.

Ari used the move to California as a chance to change everything. He swore he was going sober and wouldn’t return to the lifestyle he’d had before.

—

Now, freshly sober in California, he’s trying to figure out how to balance his new life. He’s still adventuring but it looks different without drinking. He isn’t sure if he likes it or not.

Personality -

“Ari is a rollercoaster. It could get exhausting except you don’t see him that often since he’s dating half the town at any given time. But he’s a blast anyway, especially when he’s sober enough to know up from down. You will have the most wild dates with him but you’ll have the time of your life. He rented a barn once and hired a band so we could have a ‘good old fashioned barn dance’ because he’d just seen one in a movie. It was insane. Best date of my life. That’s why it’s such a shame that he drinks so much. When he’s sober or only tipsy he’s amazing but the more drunk he gets the more the shine wears away. We actually broke up because he punched a hole through a mirror once and cried that he hated how he looked. I just… couldn’t do that. I hate it but I couldn’t.” Jessica B, ex-girlfriend.

Ari is the pinnacle of a yes-man. He agrees to almost everything so long as no one is hurt and he seems very morally grey. So long as no one gets hurt he’s down to try anything. He is high energy and always seems super cheerful. Ari is the kind of person who draws others to him just by how cheery and upbeat he is.

Ari is a romantic at heart. He says he falls in love with everyone and it honestly feels true. He sees something beautiful in everyone he meets and so he always dates multiple people at a time. It helps that he needs company all the time or the negative emotions he’s pushed away since he was a teenager begin to come creeping up.

He can never let that creep up. When it does it overwhelms him and he feels as scared and as lost as he did the entire year following the crash. He doesn’t talk about those emotions and he definitely doesn’t acknowledge that anything is wrong even when it’s exhausting to keep the smile. He doesn’t want to validate them and make them real. Ari will do anything to keep himself from ever feeling that sad and broken again.

It’s part of why he’s such an adrenaline junkie. His thrill seeking is one of the things he’s most known for in his fame. He has an adventure list a mile wide with everything from “Show up at an airport and take the next flight wherever it goes” to “scattering change along the city streets for people to find.”

Hobbies:

Art. Ari loves abstractivism and unconventional art. One of his projects that he was working on before coming to Carmel was saving every bottle from every drink he had over the course of a year so he could display it as a piece. He wasn’t sure about the title for it yet.

Exploring

Going on dates and adventures

He really wants to get a normal job because he thinks it would be hilarious to, say, work at a deli or diner because he’s technically a rock star.

Health:

Ari has PTSD. He doesn’t acknowledge it but it definitely impacts his ability to exist normally. He’s terrified of cars (he still doesn’t drive but he claims it’s because he would rather just skateboard everywhere) and he acts more recklessly to try to distract from it.

Physically he’s actually pretty healthy (aside from his chronic exhaustion). He eats well and works out, now that he’s quit drinking (besides a few relapses here and there) he is largely a super healthy individual.

wanted connections

Partners!!!! Ari is pan and poly so he is down for however many partners he has at any given time. He loves going on dates and hooking up. The more the merrier as far as he’s concerned, too!

Baby-mama. Ari found out he got someone pregnant and it was the largest catalyst for sobriety. They have a rocky relationship regarding the child because Ari really doesn’t feel ready to be a dad but I’m open to if they’re civil or uncivil outside of that.

Confidant. Everyone needs someone they can trust. Even Ari, who’s close relationships never seem to get past sleeping together and casual dating. This can be a friend, a friend of a friend or even someone he’s sleeping with.

[a-queer-human]

genderqueer

/ˈdʒɛndəkwɪə/

adjective

adjective: gender-queer

denoting or relating to a person who does not subscribe to conventional gender distinctions but identifies with neither, both, or a combination of male and female genders."the genderqueer community”

 Over the past 10 years, I have been thinking about Gender, on and off. The only things LGBT on my TV when I was a child was Gay hosts in the closest and Paul O’Gradys drag act Lily Savage. People didn’t talk about it. When I was a teenager in upper (high) school there seemed to be a ‘craze’ of Bisexual girls not so much men, but suddenly everyone was out that way, I didn’t come out for a while, knowing for sometime I wasn’t straight, I wasn’t gay either, I didn’t have terms such as Asexual and Demi, Pan and such, and it was the age where the internet wasn’t used as much and because I didn’t know, I didn’t look for it. So as a bullied teen I told only a few people of how I identified back then. 

I thought I had to dress in a certian why and i HAD to be attractive to get through life so I tried to be as girly as I could be. not that it did anything, I still couldn’t get to grips with dresses and heels, the typical ‘femme’ style. it caused a lot of stress, a lot of wasted time trying to fit in with my peers. Things got easier when I went to collage, for a while anyway. I had some crushes I never acted on, I dressed how i wanted with less pressure and I got a job with mostly men which despite portraying myself as a girl i felt more then commutable with them. I met my best friend and I like to call my Platonic soul mate who I love in a way I cant put down. She saved me, when I wanted the world to stop and end, she was come to my house and just be there.  When I met Psy at collage and became friends with them, it felt like I was starting to find my place, I got invites to house parties and met some really great people, I even went to my first Comic-con with them, and that was opening a whole new world, because of that I met people, I met people who came out as Trans and non-binary and with these terms, with the freedom to express myself I stated to think. For many years, I thought alone with my thoughts, not sharing, now asking questions until it clicked but the self doubt I felt was bad so I didn’t fully come out. I started to experiment with my name. I didn’t want my deadname I was either Shrew or I tried Francis for sometime. I didn’t play with pronouns until I came out. I came out as Julian, I came out having conversations with a few people and It felt good. I came out as Trans and things felt lighter for a while. 

The problem with coming out, isnt so much being misgendered most days and still waiting to hear from the gender Clinic after years of waiting and not being able to afford going Private, the hard thing is people telling you HOW you should be as a man, the comments ‘ thats not very manly’ and ‘ I thought you were trying to be a man’ Why should I have to change who and how I act because the world views Cismen in such a way. So I have to conform? Do I have to tell people I am a Trans but ‘femme’ man. Of course I don’t I dont need comments of ‘ people will never see you as a man if’ How would you know? Your not me, your not Trans. 

in the past year (2018) I have struggled with myself, not only my mental health conditions but how I present myself. 

I am NOT a woman, Im not, Im not a she/her/lady I never want those pronouns, but the more I see of the LGBTQ world, the more I feel Im finding I don't really stick in the man section either. He/him/his are nice but at the same time They/them are most welcome. Does this make me an enby A male presenting Non binary? Transitioning will change my life, chest surgery and T would mean the world to me. 

I don't really get it yet, My sexual Orientation has gone through many labels and maybe my Gender Identity will as well. 

I know I need to not stress too much. but its something there.

[dhbelzinone]

𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓯𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓼 (ᴬⁿᵈ ᴬˡˡ ᵀʰᵃᵗ ᴶᵃᶻᶻ)

𝓞𝓞𝓒 𝓘𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓸 𝓟𝓸𝓼𝓽

Hi hello I’ve never done anything like this before but it looks like there’s a blog specifically for ooc intros so here’s my best. ♡

Hi my name is Sal, I go by they/them/theirs, and I’m a med school reject turned gender studies honors student. I’m currently working on a thesis about sex worker rights so I’m balls deep I can be in the industry without the good money and devoting the rest of my undergrad career to fighting for their right to make theirs. I’m also an artist and run an indie if y'all wanna see more of my muse’s roots. Bel’s been my emotional support muse for a good while and has gone through more character development than I have my entire lifetime, so although she may seem like a big softie compared to the rest of the muse crowd here, here’s hoping she can hold her own!

Bel Zinone Abridged: Devil’s Highway Vers.

Her mama is an undocumented immigrant who fought tooth and nail for her piece of the American dream. Much of this was due to the help of a vigilante organization that helped her flee from Europe, but her reputation was volatile enough to charm them into seeking out her membership.

Thanks to their international influence, she was able to keep running with the Wallflowers across the continental U. S. She soon settled down with her husband, a high profile (albeit black market) doctor, and raised her two children beneath the protection of the empire they built all the way from the city underbelly up to the high class elite.

Bel and her older brother Beau were relatively spoiled children until he left for the army and the family secrets started to leak. Adolescence was already hard on her, with her elusive sexuality and growing dysphoria yanking her identity chains, but as soon as she discovered her parents’ reign over the criminal underground, Bel doubted the authenticity of her upbringing and fled to the southern inlands with the resolve to make it on her own.

Little did she know that she’d find herself right smack in the middle of a gang war of the very nature she tried to escape. However, this time was going to be different. She wasn’t going to be at their mercy.

They were going to be at hers, for she offered one of the few medical resources in the entire desert that didn’t come with the liability of a paper trail.

In the meantime, she floats between bunny ranches, strip clubs, and the odd burlesque show. When she’s not working, she can be found frequenting bars, on Instagram, streaming her cam, tinkering with her Widowmaker, or looking for a good meatball sub.

Whereas she would’ve used her earnings to run as far away as possible from her past, Bel ironically finds solace in the lucrative lifestyle, calling a cozy studio apartment home and splurging on the occasional odds and ends that make the closeted queer life she embodies just a bit more bearable.

Relationships for her? I’m not gonna lie: despite the past rancor she’s had for her parent’s occupations, she genuinely wants to help and support people, patching them up so they’re good to go back to whatever they were doing without judgement. Her view of the life’s changed and she’s come to understand the institutions (as well as will) that brings people to commit and run with crime. She’s yet to make peace with her family, but she’s come to terms with the blood she’s from and wants to make a difference in peoples’ lives. That being said: 

Give her your tired, your poor, your horny

A job @ Paradise, maybe? Maybe she could learn about the surrounding gang activity from other dancers / affiliates or Kimi when she applies?

Maybe she could’ve known Esmeray from medical school?

Seeing other muses in the medical field are inspiring some joint black market clinic potential~

Maybe she could’ve known Rodrigo from when he was doing his work, possibly from Backpage before it got shut down?

On this note, maybe Nikki too? (Hello~)

If there are any other queer muses around, maybe they can shine a community light on her? Potentially while she’s yanking a shank out of their shoulder?

If there are any single muses too, I’d love to develop a ride-or-die boo or friend for her.

Last but not least, if we still need prospects and other make characters I’d be game af to have Beau go AWOL and trade his fatigues for a potential patch (maybe through the Mexican border with Nikki, if she’s gonna hate Bel asdkjfnaks). ♡

𝓐𝓹𝓹𝓵𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

OUT OF CHARACTER

INTRODUCTION: Sal (24) they/them/theirs ; PST ACTIVITY: I'm in my last year of undergraduate study and will have class three days a week on average. I'll be online at least once a day and will be able to devote most of my week to nitty-gritty writing as well as plotting. PASSCODE: angel wings and/or crown MISCELLANEOUS: I've been running an indie oc rp blog for almost five years (same character @belzinone) and this will be my first group/skeleton/rl fc rp. I'm worried about being ignored/left behind/largely uninvolved in threads and plotting because that has largely been my experience in discord server rp groups, but y'all seem to have good administration going on so I'm not feeling so worried anymore. I look forward to the experience if you'll have me. :)

IN CHARACTER

NAME: Bel Zinone DATE OF BIRTH: (March/08/1991) (28) PLACE OF BIRTH: San Francisco, California GENDER/PRONOUNS: demifemme｜she/her/hers AFFILIATION: N/A RANKING: N/A OCCUPATION: freelance sex worker, hitwoman, & black market physician FACE CLAIM: Antonia Thomas

BIOGRAPHY

triggers: domestic violence, murder, abuse, misandry, severe burns, sex work Her mother was an undocumented immigrant, fleeing from her orphaned past and domestic abuse in the Italian slums. A headstrong, promiscuous, and violent woman, it wasn't long until she found sisterhood amongst a like-minded gang of vigilante women with international influence called the Wallflowers, well-versed in her infamy and coming to her aid while she was pregnant with her son and escaping prosecution for murdering her husband. Risa Zinone, codenamed La Eglantina, docked in New York city, giving birth to her son Beau Zinone and raising him with the rest of her sorella while continuing her bloodthirsty occupation of murdering abusive men and liberating survivors from their regimes of terror. However, one could only run with the Wallflowers for so long before beginning to challenge their belief system, however righteous it claimed to be. The murderer mother fell in love with the black market doctor who saved her life and once again fled across the country and retired so she could live a peaceful life with him, safe from the constraints and watchful eyes of the sisterhood, but not without heavy cost. She suffered major burns to her entire body by a fire and had to undergo near total facial reconstruction, a miracle performed by the love of her life. In exchange for her life, she'd no longer bear resemblance to her children. Thus Bel Zinone was born on the opposite side of the country as her brother, hilly San Franscisco. She was a wildly rambunctious child, calmed only by the sounds of her brother's guitar strings and a profound interest in her father's work. Little did she know, her living was earned via the illicit means of her parents and their continued association with the country's underbelly. Shambled by the loss of one of their most valuable members, the Wallflowers had undergone a civil war. A near complete overhaul of organizational structure and creed had taken place, leading to an abysmal divide between the matriarchal supremacy of days past and the new order. Enemies of the new regime all around the world were sought out, assassinated, and replaced with a stronger, more diverse membership. During that witch hunt, Risa was reinstated into the Wallflowers with her husband Dmitri and the power couple ruled the pacific branch. The Zinone's hid their criminal affiliations well. Dmitri, a renowned surgeon specializing in the central nervous system, Risa, an uptown socialite who moonlighted cabaret clubs as a jazz singer. Their children had a generous, almost spotless adolescence until Beau graduated high school and joined the military. He was an upstanding, self-righteous man, yet his fatigues all but killed the respect his little sister had for him. As the Zinone siblings grew up, their parents had to try all that much harder to hide their criminal affiliations, often leaving the two with ample bonding time and hiding various criminal survival skills (like how to fight and use firearms among other things) under the guise of "street smarts". Combined with her surfacing struggles with her sexuality and gender identity, Beau's abandonment was very hard on Bel. Her high school antics began to resemble those of her mother during her youth, starting fights, finishing others' fights, and getting dress coded nearly every day. If not for physical altercations, the young lady spent most of her time in the principal's office for getting into arguments with teachers and staff over technicalities in her STEM courses and exposing discrimination in curriculums and attitudes throughout. If not for her parents' powerful influence, she never would've dodged juvie, let alone made it to college. Fortunately, she found her calling and started settling down as soon as her father invited her to his workplace in the hospital. College was a breeze for her, even as a fierce insistence to be independent led to her paying her own tuition. She was no party animal or sorority sister, but the continuing troubles she had with her sexuality and gender identity pushed her towards casual sex work and the porn industry when work-study wasn't enough. Bel was steadily making her way through adult life, planning to devote the rest of it to medicine like her father. However, as she started having to use her special "survival skills" more and more, she slowly began to realize there was more to her parents than she thought. The Wallflowers were growing in influence, and La Eglantina's daughter was growing a bounty on her head as well. By the time she cornered her parents with the truth, she was already well into medical school and bore nods of her mother's pseudonym and her father's occupation on her back. The betrayal she felt when her brother left her resurfaced as she uncovered her parents lies, spurring her to cut her familial ties and live her own life exclusively by her own means. Bel rejected her father's footsteps in favor of sex work, something she pursued entirely of her own volition, and eventually found herself amongst the "bunny ranches" in Las Vegas, where her life in the crossfire between the Sinners and Jokers would begin. CHARACTER QUOTE: "Do no harm but take no shit." CHARACTER ANTHEM: Half God Half Devil｜In This Moment

EDIT: Risa Zinone fled from Europe as a result of Romani persecution.

P.S.: I reiterate that this is my first group/skeleton/rl fc rp. This is all pretty overwhelming so please have patience with me and for those of y’all who have a lot of experience with these things, please help me out <3

[selfish-thunder]

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

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

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

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

So, I guess my advice is...

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

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

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

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

There's also a ton of resources. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which brings me to my last bit. 

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

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

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

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

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

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