#I don’t even know how she got my deadname

[theshadowrealmitself]

On the topic of gender thoughts, one thing that’s been difficult to explain to cis people who’ve never really thought of gender before is that I always specify “genderfluid” rather than saying “nonbinary” (they ask for some reason) because in my own understanding of my gender, it doesn’t fit very well, because even tho I do have many days where I’ll feel nonbinary or agender, I also have many days where there’s very much a binary gender going on

And they just. Stare at me like I’m explaining calculus to them.

#university has been a kind of hell #where everyone keeps asking me what my deadname is #and the girl who sits next to me in one of classes keeps calling me it even tho I introduced myself to her with my lived name #I don’t even know how she got my deadname #university has been hell #no fandom #genderfluid #gender crisis

[insuke69]

Scars that make you who you are.

☆ Hobie x FTM trans reader

Transphobia will be blocked <33

★Warnings: Angst, kissing, cursing, body dysmorphia, misgendering mentioned

☆ Rating: 13+

★Symposis: You’re feeling self conscious about your surgery scars, but luckily you have Hobie to help you through it.

☆ 827 Words, Drabble nibble.

You transitioned a while back, hell, most people in your life didn’t really know that you’re trans besides friends who knew you pre-transition and your family, and of course your partner, Hobie, knows too.

You’ve managed to save enough money to be able to afford your top surgery and finally stop wearing binders all the time! You’re comfortable in your own skin for the first time in a while, you finally no longer feel like the boy who had to wear dresses because he was stuck in a feminine body. You were living your life no longer being deadnamed and no longer being referred to with ‘she/her’.

You had your top surgery and had the beautifully flat chest you deserved, yet two crescent lines where the stitches stayed. You remember researching and looking through so many websites stating that it usually takes over six months for the insisions to heal, but thankfully the doctor elaborated, saying that the scars will stay for at least a year, so you knew you had to deal with it.

Besides that, you felt.. Not good. You knew you were lucky to finally have what so many other people wish to afford at all, you finally got rid of those pesky breasts that wouldn’t leave you alone since you were ten. But here you were: shirtless in the mirror with your hands ghosting over your chest.

It’s been a few months, around six months, you’re all healed and aren’t that sore anymore, but your stitches still hurt like if the needle and thread were just stabbed into your sensitive flesh. It already is taking so long for you to heal at all, how the scars have to heal before you can even think about being shirtless comfortably at all? And what about Hobie? What if he isn’t willing to wait with you? Or if-

“Oi, Love, Have you seen my-” Hobie just opened the bathroom door, since you two live together and his gaze was averted towards the sink for what he was looking for, but he paused and looked at your expression before murmuring “ring..”

You look over at him and hesitantly cross your arms over your chest. You haven’t really been topless in front of Hobie since before the surgery, either because you had bandages around you most of the time, or because you didn’t feel confident enough in front of him no matter what the scenario was..

“You alrigh’?” He asked as he walked over to you and settled his hands on your shoulders from behind, his gaze locked with yours in the mirror in front of you two.

His warm hands sooth your skin on your shoulders, relaxing the tense muscles that laid below your flesh. “Nothing, Nothing, just.. I don’t know, my scars feel shitty.”

Hobie’s gaze softened and wrapped his arms around your torso with his hands easing over yours, “Yeah? Why? Does i’ hur’?”

“No, I don’t like them right now, the stitches are healed at least, but they look so shitty.”

As you spoke, Hobie began ghosting gentle kisses on your shoulders and back of your neck, his hands easing yours to relax and to loosen your hold so he could see the remnants of your surgery.

“No way, You’ve go’a be fuckin’ wit’ me.” He murmured almost jokingly as his hands went to your waist and rested on your abdomen from behind, “You’re so handsome, so perfect- tits or nah, scars and all.” You felt his warm breath and lip piercing flush against the side of your neck below your ear. 

His lips closed over your skin and began kissing and sucking your sweet and soft flesh, littering purple bruises on their wake.

You chuckle and tilt your head to the side to give him more access to you, “Sure. Yeah, You’re willing to wait over a year for them to even start to fade?” You asked sarcastically which made Hobie stop kissing your neck and frown at you through the mirror.

His hold hardened and he spun you so you were now facing him and placing a hand on your lower jaw in order to make you look up at him, “I’m willing to wait decades for you just to be able t’see your smile, You won’ be rid of me until I see you adore that boy in the mirror.” 

You smiled at his words, feeling like a warmth in them is sending pure love into your heart, probably because of the pure adoration in his eyes, or the blatant truth he’s saying. Fully confident in himself and reassurance.

He smiles at you before leaning down and kissing your lips, holding you by the hips as he pulled you up onto the bathroom counter. You reciprocate with your same passion while wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Now c’mon, let me adore my man.” Hobie cooed as he eased his hands over your thighs and glide to your knees to spread them.

_____________________

Stopping it right before the smut like a true writer <3

#across the spiderverse #hobie brown #insuke #fanfic #spiderman #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie brown imagine #hobie brown x reader #spider punk #{☆insooks ☆} #ftm reader #hobie fluff #hobie x reader

[karmic-vibes]

If I Can Dream

16 - Too Much Rain

art credit: @lazylittledragon on tumblr/lazyjunebug on twitter

cw: mentions of divorce

Year: 1992

Pattie and John finalized their divorce in January of 1992. Per their lawyer, they had to try couples therapy, amongst a few other things, prior to their official split. When nothing took, they officially called it quits.

While John never came around quite like Pattie did, he still tried addressing everyone by their proper names and pronouns. He never stopped by or gave anyone the time of day, but when he remembered, he would send birthday gifts or vague holiday cards to try and act like he cared (mainly to spite Pattie, showing her she wasn’t the only involved grandparent).

But, Pattie didn’t care. She had finally connected with her son and her granddaughter—she couldn’t care less what her ex-husband did.

Pattie often found herself stopping by once every weekend to bring the boys a meal and a little gift for Bobby. Since tensions had been resolved, Pattie hadn’t misgendered Eddie or even slipped up on his deadname. She addressed and introduced him as her son’s husband and Bobby’s father. She earned strange looks from people who think the way she used to, but it was second nature to her at this point.

Her son was married to a man, who also fathered her granddaughter. Totally normal, right?

Ever since she left John, she could give two shits about what others perceived as “normal”—she loved her new, free life and she’d be damned if anyone took that from her. For the first time in her adult life, she was happy—she didn’t care about the rest.

One weekend when Pattie dropped by, Eddie was getting his belongings together to head over to The Hideout for his weekly gig. Corroded Coffin hadn’t performed nearly as much since Bobby was born, but his band mates didn’t mind—they all understood where Eddie’s priorities were.

“Alright, I’m heading out!” Eddie called.

“Good luck tonight, Ed,” Pattie chirped.

“Thanks, mama.”

That was a newer development—mama. Eddie had never been close with his own mother, so once Pattie started coming around more often, she very quickly took on a motherly role for her son-in-law. He called her mom or mama, and she had an array of pet names for him that she used interchangeably.

In all honesty, it made Steve sick to his stomach hearing how gushy they were towards each other, but he figured it was better that it was happening to Eddie rather than him.

“Do you have everything?” Steve asked.

“I think so. What would I be missing?”

“I don’t know, you’re forgetful,” Steve shrugged.

“Well, if I forget something, then I’ll just call you and make you come down to The Hideout. Sound good?”

“No.”

“Great. Love you.”

“Hate you too, stupid.”

The two quickly kissed each other as Eddie ran out the door. Bobby was put to bed about an hour ago, so Eddie had covered all his goodnight bases for the evening.

“I should probably head out, too,” Pattie sighed as she slipped her coat on. “It was a pleasure, Stevie.”

“Always nice to see you, mom. See you next weekend?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Later that night, when Eddie got home from his gig, he burst into his bedroom and started bouncing on the bed, urging Steve awake. Steve grumbled to himself and hesitantly turned over to face Eddie.

“For the love of god, what, Edward?” Steve mumbled.

“Guess what!”

“No.”

“Steven Michael, guess!”

“No! Now shut up before you wake the beast down the hall.”

“Please, just one guess.”

“For the last time, no.”

“You’re no fun.”

Steve sighed and rolled back over, burying himself in their covers. Eddie straddled his husband and ripped the covers from his face. Steve hissed at the cool air and eventually gave up, caving to his spouse’s antics.

“How many guesses do I get?” Steve whined.

“Three.”

“I’m only guessing once.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

“I don’t know, Eddie, for god’s sake, I want to sleep!”

“Come on!” Eddie started bouncing up and down.

“You better behave, I swear on my life.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Regardless, I’m too tired to deal with you.”

“Come on! Guess!”

“I don’t know—you bought the bar?”

“No! We got a gig as openers at the Hoosier Dome next weekend!”

“What‽” Steve was suddenly jolted awake in excitement. “You’re bullshitting me.”

“I would never,” Eddie guffawed.

“You’re really playing at the biggest arena in the state?”

“Sure am,” he smiled proudly. “You and Bobbs get to come backstage and all that. Isn’t that exciting?”

“Won’t it be past her bed– what the fuck am I saying? Screw her bedtime—she gets to see her father perform at the dome! Ugh, I’m so proud of you, Eds! Who’re you opening for?”

“Oh, no one big—just Gun N’ Roses,” Eddie said nonchalantly.

“Eds, that’s huge!”

Steve cheered as he pulled his sweaty husband down for a kiss. Eddie held onto Steve’s face and deepened their kiss, reducing it to teeth and tongues. Eddie rutted his hips into Steve, but Steve held onto him, holding him in place.

“Sweetie, I’m sorry, but I’m so tired. Maybe tomorrow, okay?”

“But Stevie,” Eddie whined.

“What, Eds?”

“We haven’t had sex in ages… making me think you don’t find me attractive anymore.”

“Okay, first and foremost, that’s asinine. You’re literally a smoke show—always have been, always will be. Second, I know, it’s killing me too, but Bee has been running me into the ground. She’s just at that age where she has endless energy. You can understand that, can’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah… but even when she was a baby, and we were going days without sleeping, we still did stuff,” he pouted.

“Ed, ‘stuff’ was just you giving me head.”

“Yeah, and? You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Do you not like how I give head?”

“What? No, I… what?”

“It’s a simple question.”

“Eddie, there’s nothing wrong with how you suck my dick, okay?”

“So, like… can I, then?”

“Eddie, for the love of all that is holy, it is three in the morning. Please, for my sanity, let me sleep.”

“It’ll take like five minutes.”

“Hey! I don’t finish that fast.”

“Oh, Stevie,” Eddie smirked, cocking his head to the side.

“I don’t!”

“You have since we had the baby.”

“No… that can’t be true… can it?”

“It can be and it is. However, if you’re up for a challenge–”

“Okay, yeah, more so because I want to prove you wrong.”

Eddie chuckled to himself as he started shimmying Steve’s boxers down. The couple became intimate for the first time in ages and, much to Steve’s dismay, Eddie’s point had been proven right.

“Stevie, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. It’s infuriating. I had no idea I lost so much stamina!”

“It’s okay! Just an excuse to practice a bit more—get your times up,” Eddie teased.

“Very funny, Ed,” Steve scoffed.

“Listen, my offer with pegging still stands if you’re ever feeling lazy and just wanna lay there. Wouldn’t have to worry about anything.”

“Okay, we were talking about how I can’t last longer than five minutes. How on earth did you go from there to pegging?”

“I dunno.” Eddie shrugged as he cuddled up to Steve.

“No, you do know.”

“Didn’t you want to go to sleep?”

“Well, now I’m awake, dickhead. How long have you been thinking about this?”

“I don’t know, a few years, maybe.”

“Years?”

“Uh, yeah? You know how frustrating it is to be a dude without a dick? I just wanna do what you get to do. It’s not that deep.”

“Okay, well, let’s put that on the back burner for now.”

“Can we try it after my show next week?”

“Yeah, fine, whatever.”

“Oh, god, how I love you.” Eddie gently kissed Steve’s neck as he rubbed circles into his chest. “Get some sleep, big boy—it’s your morning with the beast tomorrow.”

As the couple fell into a deep slumber, it was soon interrupted by their daughter screaming at the top of her lungs from the end of the hall. The boys were stirred awake, trying to gain a sense of where they were and what was going on.

“Is that Bobby?” Steve grumbled.

“Yeah,” Eddie sighed. “It’s your night.”

“I know,” Steve mumbled, sitting up in bed. He trekked down to Bobby’s bedroom where he flicked on the light and knelt next to his toddler’s bed. “What’s up, Bee?”

“There’s ghosties under the bed!” She cried.

“What do they look like?”

“They don’t have faces…”

“I, um… what are they doing?”

“They have scissors and, and, and they’re cutting up the carpet. Daddy, I’m scared!”

“Okay, uh… hold on…”

Steve’s eyes were bulged out of his head as he made his way back to his bedroom. Sweat was collecting at his brow as he stood in the doorway of his room.

“You good over there, big boy?” Eddie teased.

“Nope, this one is yours.”

Eddie rolled his eyes as he climbed out of bed to tend to his daughter. As the couple walked back down the hall, Eddie was desperately trying to figure out what was going on.

“Why was she screaming?” Eddie yawned.

“She saw ghosts under the bed. She said they were cutting up her carpet.”

“Dear lord.” Once Eddie crossed the threshold, he embraced his daughter in a warm hug, gently kissing the crown of her head. “Papa’s here, baby girl.”

“Papa, daddy! Make the ghosties go!” she sobbed.

“Okay, okay.” Eddie got down on his knees and peered under her bed. “Hey, guys? I know you’re having fun under there, but it’s late, and she’s little, so you’re scaring her. So maybe calm down on the carpet cutting for tonight.” Eddie popped his head back up and smiled at Bobby. “They said they’re sorry and they’re going to bed. You should get back to sleep too, princess.”

“But papa, I’m scared!”

“Do you want me and daddy to stay until you’re asleep? Just to make sure you’re safe?” She nodded profusely. “Okay. Do you want a lullaby or a bedtime story?”

“Both…” She said with a slight lisp, clutching her bumble gum pink comforter close to her chest.

“Okay. Stevie, do you wanna grab a book?”

“Sure. What do you want, pumpkin?”

“Goodnight Moon, please.”

“Alright. Do you want story or song first?”

“Story, please.

“Okay.”

Steve crawled into the bed, pulling Bobby into his lap. He straightened out her strawberry printed nightgown and made sure she was cozy in his embrace. Bobby pushed her messy curls out of her face so she could get a better look at the pages. Steve began reading in a soft, calming voice, slowly easing his daughter’s nerves. By the end of the book, she was half-asleep.

Steve shimmied her over to Eddie’s lap where he held her close against his chest, similar to when she was younger. He rubbed small circles into her back, making her melt further into his touch. Eddie started out by quietly humming before he finally started singing.

“Once there was a way,” he started, but was quickly stopped.

“I don’t want Golden Slumbers, papa,” Bobby mumbled.

“Uh, okay… but I always sing it to you…”

“I want the other one,” she whispered. Steve and Eddie looked to each other, puzzled—they had never sung anything else to her.

“What other one, honey?”

“The one pop-pop always sings,” she said into his chest.

What does Wayne sing? Steve mouthed.

I don’t know! Eddie mouthed back, panicked.

“Do you know how it goes?” Eddie asked.

“I dunno...”

Then it hit Steve—it was the same song that brought him and his husband together all those years ago. He had heard Wayne sing it from time-to-time when he insisted on putting Bobby down for a nap.

“If I Can Dream,” Steve smiled. Tears brimmed at Eddie’s eyes—their first date; their song.

“I can sing that, pumpkin,” Eddie whispered. “There must be lights burning brighter somewhere… got to be birds flying higher in a sky more blue… if I can dream of a better land…”

Eddie sang the song in a slow, low voice until Bobby was fast asleep. He slipped out from under her, turned off her bedroom light, and the couple walked back to their bedroom for the night.

“How were you so calm?” Steve grit his teeth.

“Are you kidding‽ I fucking shit myself!”

The following days were filled with more or less the same. The boys would go through their morning routine, drop Bobby off with either Wayne or Pattie before heading off to work. Then, pick their little one up, have dinner as a family, put Bobby down for the night, then switch off who had to deal with her night terrors.

But then, finally, the fateful Saturday had come—Eddie was performing at the Hoosier Dome. He had to be at the arena for sound check around noon, which Steve and Bobby tagged along for. Once that was all set, it was Guns N’ Roses’ turn to take the stage and rehearse until the show that evening. Corroded Coffin was free to roam around Indianapolis until four or five—as long as they were back by six, management couldn’t care less what they were up to.

The Harrington’s roamed around the city, taking Bobby anywhere she wanted to go. Around three in the afternoon, Bobby started to get a bit tired, so she urged her dads to sit down and rest. Eddie found a quaint brick wall that he happily hopped onto, hauling Bobby up onto his lap shortly after.

The cool breeze brushed through each of their curls and Steve couldn’t help but stare at his beautiful family. All he could think was how he got so lucky. How he ended up with such a gorgeous, loving family.

As Steve was off in his own la la land, Eddie adjusted Bobby’s bright yellow puffer jacket and her pale pink skirt (which was layered on top of some thermal leggings to keep her from catching a cold). She insisted on dressing herself for this momentous occasion, but Eddie and Steve would be damned if she’d be left to freeze.

In protest of her warm outfit, Bobby demanded she’d bring along her heart-shaped sunglasses—while Steve thought it was ridiculous, Eddie fed into his daughter’s antics and brought along his black shades as well. Oh, how the two troublemakers were similar in endless ways.

By six, Eddie was back at the arena for a final run through with Corroded Coffin, while Steve took Bobby out for dinner. They weren’t going on until eight, so Steve figured they had time to kill. At seven forty-five on the dot, Steve brought Bobby back to the dressing rooms to wish her father good luck on his set.

Eddie held Bobby close in an embrace, hugging her so tight you’d think it would be the last time he’d ever see her. He pressed a kiss into her forehead before placing giant, noise-cancelling headphones over her ears to protect her from the booming chaos of the arena. The stage hands ushered Corroded Coffin to the stage-wings, with Steve and Bobby tailing closely behind.

At eight sharp, the band stormed the stage, screeching their instruments to get the crowd going. Shortly after, Eddie boomed into the microphone: “hello, Indianapolis!” The arena erupted with cheers—Eddie couldn’t help but smile.

“How’re we feeling tonight?” Everyone cheered again. “Love it, love it! You guys should know, you’re our first big gig. Make some noise for yourselves, come on!”

And they did—Steve did his best to clap for his husband as he held Bobby up on his hip. Bobby held her hands firmly against her headphones, stunned and overwhelmed by all the commotion. Steve gently bounced her up and down as he pointed to his husband on stage. Bobby eventually put two and two together and screamed at the top of her lungs.

“Papa’s on stage!” She cheered. “Daddy, look! Papa’s on stage!”

“I know, pumpkin, I see him,” he chuckled.

Corroded Coffin played their first few songs before Eddie decided to speak to the crowd again. It was when he stopped to take a sip of water, shortly chased with complimentary beer the arena provided.

“How’re we feeling, Indianapolis‽” Cheers erupted from the audience once more. “Good, good,” Eddie chuckled. “Before we sing our last few songs, I’d like to take a second to thank everyone who made tonight possible.” Eddie started rattling off names of managers, event coordinators, Guns N’ Roses themselves, and finally, his own family. “Last, but certainly not least, my own beautiful, supportive, amazing husband—and yes, you all did hear that correctly. He’s supported me since we met back in ‘85 and he hadn’t missed a gig until we had our gorgeous daughter, and even then, he told me to get back to performing as soon as I was able to. Everyone, please, give it up for my husband. None of this could’ve been possible without him.” The crowd applauded weakly. “Oh, come on, I know you can do better than that! Give it up for my husband, ladies and gents! Come on!” Cheers and applause flooded the arena. “Yeah, that’s more like it! Alright, I think you’ve earned this last song. Hit it!”

As the band closed out with their grand finale, Bobby started kicking at Steve’s stomach, wanting to be put down to dance. She ran over to the stairs leading up to the stage and eagerly jumped up and down to the beat.

When the song finished, and everyone went to go bow, Bobby slipped through the cracks of all the production coordinators (and Steve) and ran onto the stage to smother Eddie with hugs.

“Bobby, no!” Steve yelled.

But it was no use—she couldn’t hear him through the headphones. Eddie spotted the brightly colored girl out of the corner of his eye, dropped to his knees, gingerly setting down his guitar, and wrapped his daughter in a warm embrace. She tackled him to the ground, and Eddie couldn’t help but laugh.

He squeezed her tight, running his hands through her tight ringlets, and placed a million kisses all over her face. Tears prickled are Eddie’s eyes as the entire audience faded into the background.

At the end of the day, she was what made it all worth it.

“Papa, you did so good!” She yelled, not knowing the volume of her own voice.

“Thank you, sweet girl,” he beamed. He sat up, still hugging her, as the stage crew started setting up for the main act. “We should go before we get in trouble. C’mon.”

He stood up, hiking Bobby up onto his hip, as he handed his guitar to a random stage-hand. He held her close as he headed for the stairs, meeting Steve with a warm hug.

“You did so good, baby,” Steve said.

“Thank you,” Eddie whispered.

“And you!” Steve started, pointing sternly at his toddler. “Never run away from me like that again, do you understand? Scared me half to death, Bobby.”

“Sorry, daddy…”

“Oh, give her a break. She was just excited,” Eddie said. “I appreciated the hugs. I wouldn’t mind if it became a post-show tradition,” he teased.

“Let’s not get carried away.” Steve rolled his eyes, hand rubbing up and down Eddie’s sweaty back.

“So, Harrington…” Eddie leaned in to whisper in his husband’s ear. “Our deal still on?” Steve’s eyes widened as he blushed up to his ears—Eddie smirked proudly. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

#eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #stranger things #eddie st4 #eddie stranger things #gay #st4 #steve x eddie #lgbtq #transgender #trans eddie munson #joseph quinn #joe kerry #wayne munson #corroded coffin #guns n roses #netflix #pride #lgbt pride #ftm eddie munson #parent steddie

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

I absolutely love your writing and the way you write the Criminal Minds characters is just *chef's kiss*🤌

I was wondering if you could write something with Spencer x ftm Reader. Preferably something angsty but with a happy ending.

Maybe something like where the reader's dad/mom is in town and goes to his work to visit him and they keep misgendering him and when he tries to correct them they just dismiss him.

Maybe reader gives Spencer a look as to say "don't even bother". If the rest of the team notive maybe they come to his aid and basically kick out his family member. Lots of comfort from Spencer after.

Sorry if it's too long or confusing. You don't have to but I would love it if you did.

Thank you💕💕

warnings: deadnaming (D/N), transphobia, unaccepting parents, outing in the work place,

"(D/N)!" You freeze immediately. As does Spencer beside you.

"Who's (D/N)?" You hear Morgan whisper to Prentiss, followed by Prentiss whispering back that she didn't know. You look at Spencer, trying to gather the courage to turn around. And your dad is staring at you, you put on a fake smile.

"Dad, I've told you, it's (Y/N) now," You correct lightly, making sure to smile, the last thing you wanted was for him to get offended. You ignore the team (minus Spencer) sharing confused looks.

"You know I'm not going to remember that, I've got so much on my mind right how, what with your brother-"

"How is Danny?" You ask, hoping to change the subject.

"He misses his sister and he wants to know when you're coming back home,"

"Dad-" You sigh, dragging a hand over your face, "I told you, I'm his brother-"

"Don't be ridiculous, (D/N)." Your dad snaps, you sigh yet again, deciding not to bite back this time.

"Has Danny sorted out what college he wants to go to yet?"

"He doesn't want to go." The tone indicates that your father doesn't want to talk about it any more, so you drop it.

"How's work been?"

"Fine." He answers with a shrug. “Anyway, how’s my favourite daughter getting on?”

You try and hide the stress, but you know in a team of profilers it doesn’t exactly work. No. Instead, your team pick up on it immediately. Spencer meets your eyes and with the slight tilt of his head and the raise of an eyebrow, you know he’s offering to stand up for you, to correct your father. You shake your head, not wanting the unnecessary drama. 

 "When are you coming home?" He asks, unaware of the tension building in the bullpen - or he notices and just doesn’t give a crap, you aren’t too sure. 

"Dad, I told you, I'm staying here. I’ve got a good job," You hope he takes the hint of ‘I’ve got a good job don’t you dare ruin that for me or so help me God’. “I’m doing good here.”

He scoffs loudly, “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

“Remember that you’re the one that told me to leave.” You reminded and everyone (your father included) freezes. 

“How dare you-”

“I dare.” Your reply is instant. “Look, dad, I’ve got work to do. I finish at about six. You know where I live, the spare key is under the plant pot. Why don’t you just hang out there for a while and we can talk after I finish work?”

You hope he takes the suggestion, but he shakes his head. “No. We’re getting to the bottom of this now. I’m not having a freak as a daughter-”

“Lucky for you you’ve got a freak as a son, so you’re halfway there.” You snap. 

Morgan and Hotch both step forward and you flush, remembering that your team are here. “We’re going to have to ask you to leave.” Hotch states. 

Your dad laughs bitterly, looking past them at you, “We’ll see how long you last in the real world, (D/N).” And with that, he leaves. And your anxiety doubles. Because now you have to answer to your team. 

You look at Morgan and Hotch, “Thanks for that,” You mumbled, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly.

“Don’t mention it,” Morgan shrugged.

Hotch furrowed his eyebrows, watching you shift nervously, “I think we should talk in private for a moment.”

Your hand shoots to Spencer’s instinctively. “With Spencer?” Hotch nods. 

You reach Hotch’s office, you all taking a seat, Spencer’s hand still clutched in yours - your mind running through all the possibilities, all ending badly. 

“Are you alright?” Is the first question that leaves Hotch’s mouth. You look at him, unsure but nod. “Alright, obviously you’re not obliged to go into detail about what that was, but we’re all here for you, should you want to.” He continued, “And I can talk to the team and tell them not to ask you about it if you’d like as well.”

“I don’t mind,” You answered honestly, “But it might have to be in about half an hour. I think I just need a minute.”

“Of course,” Hotch said, standing up, “Use my office, I was coming down for a coffee anyway.” He paused for a moment, “Take as much time as you need.”

“Thank you, sir.”

When Hotch left and the door was shut behind him, Reid turned to you, “Are you okay?” You nodded before taking a deep breath. Reid looked at you before reaching forward, bringing you into a warm embrace. “I’m so proud of you for how you handled that.”

“I was a shaking mess.”

“But you showed him how badass you are,” Spencer smiled as you nodded with a small laugh.

“Yeah. I showed him.”

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #emily prentiss #spencer reid #ftm reader #x ftm reader #x male reader #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid x trans male reader #spencer reid x ftm reader #male reader #trans reader #trans male reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanficiton

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for being mad at my best friend for crushing on this girl?

I know the title sounds bad, but hear me out. Also, this happened two years ago, but I just remembered it and idk how to feel about the way I felt back then.

So, my best friend at the time will be called D (then 17F) is a trans girl and I am nonbinary. She was already out at the time and I was not.

There was this girl in our grade, who I’ll call L. L had some political views that reminded me of radfems and transmeds. L was also a lesbian. L was very heavily transphobic against nonbinary people and she heavily defended the gender binary as much as she could, like all the time. She made fun of nonbinary people a lot and it hurt me a lot, because in the previous year (before she was open about those views), she and I almost became friends and I had had a crush on her.

When she showed that transphobic side of hers, my feelings disappeared quickly because I was very hurt by that. Obviously, L didn’t know that I’m nonbinary but it still hurt.

D and I at first were both very against all the things L was saying, but over time D and L ended up sitting together in art class. While I got to sit alone (for context: I hate sitting alone in art class because it was one of the only classes where I had friends (aka D) and i already had to sit alone in most other subjects and I was very lonely). I got pretty jealous of D spending time with L while I was alone.

I want to point out that D chose of her own free will to sit next to L, the teacher did not make her do that.

I however felt bad about being jealous, so i didn’t say anything to D except that I was unhappy to sit alone in general, but I don’t think she understood what I meant.

Eventually, I heard from D that L had talked bad about nonbinary people again (she apparently called us stupid and confused). But D also said that L had defended D against some people who were misgendering her. I wasn’t surprised by that bc L viewed D as a “real trans person”. On that note, L also said at one point that she supported trans people, but nonbinary people don’t count as trans to her.

D brought this up to me and seemed to agree with L and I was so shocked by that that I didn’t know what to say.

Eventually, D confessed to me that she had a crush on L and might even be falling in love. I tried to be a good friend to D and tried to support her externally, but internally I felt really hurt that D would feel like that about L when L indirectly insulted me all the time. Obviously; L wasn’t attacking me personally, but it still felt shitty as hell. But I also know that D can’t control her feelings. In the time that D was crushing on L, she changed quite a bit. One time she even misgendered me in the comment section of my own post and called my by my deadname in a private text convo between us even tho she knows that I hate that.

Eventually, that topic of “super straights” appeared on tiktok and L defended that a lot and was very vocal and supportive about how trans women and cis women are not the same and vice versa with trans men. And how no straight cis man would ever want to be with a trans woman and stuff like that. D was active on tiktok at the time too, on the other side of that argument obviously. This cause D to distance herself from L and she seemed comfortable from me. I did try to comfort her, but internally I couldn’t help but be happy that she finally stopped liking L and I admittedly also wasn’t surprised by L having those views and I didn’t really feel bad that D had to learn of that side of L like that.

So AITA? I think I should’ve been more sensible of D’s feelings, but she also wasn’t very sensible of mine, so idk

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[im-not-a-l0ser]

Hi! Grace asker again.

I wasn’t intending to call you a misogynist by any means, I had simply seen a lot of differing opinions of Grace based on her insanity and just wanted to know if it was a female thing or if she was genuinely irredeemable. I’ve been in a few fandoms before where it was mostly just a female thing, and it gets very exhausting very quickly. But, if your dislike of Grace is because of her insane, cult-building, murderous tendencies, I get it. A lot of people just don’t like to see that in their fandoms.

However, does that same logic apply to how you view Max? He was also—in my eyes—an irredeemable monster, and it seems like the general consensus in NPMD is that life in Hatchetfield was undeniably better without him there. And he also was shown to be a huge bully and bigot in canon, so what makes it more acceptable to make him gay, yet not offer that same development to Grace?

Once again, maybe I’ll change my mind once I finish watching all of the content with her, but for now I’m just gauging where the line is here.

Okay, sorry. It's just a thing I've already heard and refuted before so I was a little defensive.

With Max, he isn't actually ever shown Ever doing or saying anything specifically about minorities, which is my main problem. Like, he's just generally a jerk, not specifically against queer people like Grace is.

I might be super wrong here, but I'm also pretty sure he's supposed to be bi in cannon. I don't know if that was Will Branner who said that or one of the Lang's, so take that with a pinch of salt.

He's definitely got way more of "I am being defensive because I am abused and I cannot be seen for how much I'm hurting," thing going on. If you haven't watched thw show, I totally get how you couldn't gather that. In one of my linked posts, I went a bit more in depth about it.

I've always tried to give any aggressor... well, not the benefit of the doubt, but I've always put thought into why someone might be doing something.

A great example from my own life was for a period of time, someone who'd bully me for years would call me by my chosen name, Conner. And then one day, when I posted something about how I'm not a girl, I'm nonbinary, he suddenly was really brash about it and began deadnaming me again. And instead of being offended, all I could think is "what on earth happened at home." Which is what shifted my view of it in the first place.

Just like how I don't like Grace, I can fully understand anyone who doesn't like Max, and i won't jump to his defense, I'll only jump to my own defense if I am specifically being attacked for how I perceive him, and even then it's just like "Oh, well, I see him like this."

Sorry for being agressive in the first response. It's not the first time I've heard shit like that, and it will not the last either.

I am interested in what you think after you watch the show, which I think you haven't based on how you're wording things, but I'm also at work, so I'm only skimming and I might be wrong. Either way, interested

#starkid #nerdy prudes must die #max jagerman #grace chasity

[meimesworld]

I know everyone should focus on the allegations of Lily orchard because ultimately that’s the most important, I’d like to raise a point and swing back to the fanfiction to ask a question to die hard Lily supporters.

No need to get into specifics, Stockholm was a story created by Lily under her dead deadname that involved abuse, pedophilia, etc etc.

What i can’t seem to fathom when there’s an argument against her lying is…why? Lily has constantly changed her story of the fanfiction multiple times.

Starting with the most well known quote of “can’t use Stockholm, I wrote that one” Lily has multiple sources where she directly acknowledges that she was part of the stories creation

The most interesting part of this, is that multiple times she has addressed the work by its name, Stockholm.

Then she went on to deny ever creating the piece in the height of the drama with Josh, where he flat out states that she wrote it, only for her in audio to say that he “could’ve pulled it from any fanfiction site” and show a censored screen shot blurring any information pointing to the exact contents of the story. While that tweet directly had been deleted, this tweet, posted on the same day he showed a screenshot of the fanfiction, proving exactly what the contents involved were.

She then some years later posted that, no, actually, it was originally called Scars, and the sex scenes were only added in because haters gonna hate man. So now it was “I didn’t write Stockholm, I wrote something else” despite, for years, only ever acknowledging it as Stockholm

All of these things are flown out the water when you remember that the @the-last-alicorn is still up and if you search her name on the blog it directly shows her account (now nuked) tied to the series.

And now, in its conclusion, both in KP’s video and in a recent stream she did, she finally admits that she did write Stockholm, addressing it by its actual name, and that it was taken out of context and, in stream, that she simply was just dumb and shouldn’t have wrote the things she did.

So my apologies, that’s actually five different stories, not 4.

This is where I have to ask supporters: at what point do you acknowledge that Lily is simply a liar? Instead of from the jump just saying “I wrote something that I don’t agree with now” as she did in her recent stream, she went on for years blaming haters, bronies, AI even when it wasn’t in public use yet. I’m pretty sure the amount of dragging she got for that alone wouldn’t have been as severe as it has been. Yeah there prolly still would ppl be weirded out by her but at least she wouldn’t be a liar. And in turn, if she can lie about something as simple as this, why in the hell is it so unbelievable that she could lie about molesting her sister, or being an abusive friend, or anything else?

Personally, I don’t even buy the idea that her tumblr just suddenly got mass reported so bad it was deleted, I genuinely think she started to realize just how much shit is housed on her account that she simply deleted it herself, but I could always just be a biased lil shit waffle constantly inclined to think the worst.

#lily orchard #lily peet #poke madhouse #stockholm

[skeletonmoths]

Ethel Cain fans

Incoming rant

I don’t typically post anything on my blog that I’ve created or written but I feel the need to comment on something this fandom needs to understand. Hayden does not owe us anything as fans, she has told us time and time again that we have been making her feel uncomfortable, not all of us but you know who you are. Ethel Cain is a character and stage name, and I know Hayden does not mind being called Ethel by fans but that’s not just what I’m taking about, there’s also “Ethel Cain Core” Hayden has explained quite a few times not that this makes her uncomfortable, Ethel Cain and “Preachers Daughter Aesthetic” is weird at best, the aesthetic she uses in her music is Southern Gothic, and Hayden has even had to explain how this aesthetic can be problematic and needs to be used with caution and care, But on top of that I’ve seen people romanticizing the dark topics in her music the same way we did with Lana Del Ray and Nicole Dollaganger , and I can understand to a certain extent why, but again these topics need to discussed with caution and care and not romanized, same with the romanization of poverty and old farm houses I’ve been seeing, and I completely understand that these buildings and images can bring a sense of comfort and nostalgia, but I have seen people who have grown up in comfortable situations typically people who grew up “upper middle class” romanticizing poverty and dirty homes , old farm houses, which I find very strange. Let’s not even get in to the romanticization of the songs “Gibson girl” and “Unpunishable” and the “female rage” title that “Ptolemaea” got Now onto the subject of how fans are treating Hayden. Stop demanding she release new music Hayden recently confirmed she has had to scrap the B-sides and start over, Hayden is a perfectionist with her music and lyrics so CONSTANTLY demanding more from Hayden is going to make the process last longer and don’t forget people were demanding Hayden to work on the B-sides while she was ON TOUR. Hayden has been consistently releasing new ambient music on SoundCloud. And has featured in TWO new songs THIS YEAR yet fans are still demanding more. And the memes and constant “mother” calling and the jokes and out of pocket comments said directly to Hayden is becoming too much. And has said to us multiple times it makes her very uncomfortable. Hayden is not our best friend we do not know her personally and we need to start acting like it. Treat her like a person and a friend when it’s appropriate. Don’t forget about all the transphobic comments and doxing Hayden has been receiving, being deadnamed on tumblr, Hayden has talked about her hate for online culture, and I’ll miss her online presence like the rest of us, but it was only a matter of time for her to delete her tumblr as well. She has given us many warnings to smarten up but we haven’t so she has shown us the consequences. I love Hayden and I love Ethel Cain. But I’m happy she is stepping back and taking the peace for herself instead of snapping at us fans for pushing her to the limit. Thank you for taking your time to read my ranting. And Hayden if you ever come across this post on way or another and take time out of your day to read this, Thank you for everything, Thank you for sharing your art for us fans to enjoy, I hope being away from us fans for awhile brings you a sense of peace and control we keep interrupting

#ethel cain #preachers daughter #daughters of Cain #mother cain

[boypussydilf]

FaC Miniseries really be out here saying, "Simon, you might be a suicidal man who would give his own life and brain for a pair of strangers that resemble a part of the traumatic past that ruined your life, but consider: you were selfish in your past relationship because you didn't consider your girlfriend enough and now that she sacrificed herself to become God for you you aren't allowed to die because that would make her sacrifice be in vain. You have to continue living in a world that you no longer relate to with people who will continue to deadname you and bring up your traumatic past for funzies and you aren't even allowed to reconciliate with your daughter or other closest friends because they have a happy life without you bumming them out with your depression and we wouldn't want you to burden them with your feelings of uselessness and crippling lack of self worth now would we? Now go hang out with a literal child you 59+ year old man, you have therapy in an hour."

hey i wanna point out that cripple is like. a slur a lot of ppl still use it in this kind of context w/o thinking but u can just say like, debilitating instead theres not any reason to use it

ik its just like habit tho bc its still kinda common so to respond to the ask ,

KSBDJWBDJWBJDBWJDNWJDBWJDBWJDBWJDBWJDBWJSHHSB

They just could NOT be assed to resolve or address any of his emotional issues huh!!!!!!!! Yeah Simon, we know you think you suck, and you are suicidally depressed, and you are traumatized from both living through the apocalypse and spending a thousand years trapped under a curse, and the world changed without you so you now feel fundamentally out of place, can’t relate to people around you, and none of your skills are applicable anymore, and you are being crushed under the guilt of the love of your life making an unfathomably giant sacrifice to save you, and you wanted to see her again and apologize for not being able to bring her back so so badly that you were willing to kidnap a guy and keep him in a cage in your house for it, and you feel absolutely no sense of purpose in your life and have nothing to do anymore, but like, we have a really really great idea for how we’re gonna deal with that: we WON’T! We just Won’t Address It. You get to mention how you were willing to basically die because you felt like your life was worthless ONE time, and it will be after you regain the will to LIVE because you… got… told that you fucked everything up with your fiancé because you were apparently super selfish on accident? Now you’re just gonna go back home and be happy now. No yeah nothing changed in either your life or your mental state but we have to pretend it did because the story is over now. Your happy ending montage will casually feature you happily drinking at the bar. Don’t think about episode 4. Oh huh what’s that? What about your daughter figure who you felt you weren’t important to and would just be burdening and worrying with your difficult emotions, which seemed to be leading to you choosing to have a genuine and honest talk with her in the end? No she doesn’t even get mentioned, let alone show up on screen. Also Betty may or may not be dead. Yeah now that she cured your depression by telling you you fucked up she’s moving on with her life or something by which we may or may not mean reincarnating. Yeah we might have fridged her. Happy ending for everyone!

the therapy scene hits a special nerve like good for him but oh my god. i cant actually think of any other examples, but i feel like ive seen too many things decide that the way to portray healing as a difficult nonlinear thing is to. directly state “This is going to be complicated and hard!” and then not actually show it being complicated or hard now that they’ve acknowledged it. like dude all we actually see in that ending is just him being happy. you really made it seem like he is just Fine now. guys. guys what happened to his everything

#fionna and cake spoilers #basilask

[babydin]

You're My Person

Pedro talks you through some relationship anxiety that has triggered from tabloid bullshit.

- Pedro Pascal x trans woman reader - 18+, preferred but no nsfw, all fluff. - Transphobia, body dysmorphia, anxiety . - 851 words - Comments/likes appreciated. Requests are open! - A/N: I ran a poll to see if I should post this and majority voted yes. I also meant to post this yesterday on TDOV but I passed tf out. I realize the subject of this oneshot can be heavy for a lot of people so please read with caution. Please know that you are valid and you are loved and you are safe with me.

“Unclench your jaw, tell me that’s wrong.”

“You’ve got a look.”    You look up at Pedro as he joins you on the couch with a bowl of popcorn, the curtains drawn in preparation for a late-night scary movie. Maybe he was right, maybe you did ‘have a look’, you had been sitting cradling your knees while he busied himself in the kitchen making popcorn, picking at your knees and staring into space.

“Unclench your jaw, tell me that’s wrong.”

Pedro had a way of speaking that was so attentive, every word he said, the way his eyes looked at you; a car could’ve driven through the house and he wouldn’t have taken his eyes off you if you were still talking. You weren’t going to say anything to him about your sour mood, but he had a way of noticing the little things. You start to pick at the skin around your thumbs and tell him “Someone saw us today.” He took one of your hands to stop you from picking at yourself and offered his own hand as a fidget which you gladly took, fussing with his fingers, sizing up his palms in comparison to your own. “I’m sure a lot of people saw us today, amorcita. What happened?” “There was a post on Twitter–” The mention of the word made him grunt disapprovingly. “It was a pap’ shot and a link to an article. I’ve never been photographed with you before so I–” He almost wanted to interrupt you and you could see it on his face, but he allowed you to continue despite his personal issues with Twitter.

Your thoughts drifted for a moment and another one came in as you considered the words that were in the article. They focused heavily on your looks, on your body, they’d even gone to so much trouble to find out you were transgender and what your deadname was; it was like reading your own unauthorized autobiography with some unintentionally transphobic click-bait headline along the lines of ‘Who is this on Mando’s arm? Not who you’d expect. Click to find out!’ “Do you ever wish I was someone else?” Pedro’s brow creased, “I don’t follow.” A breath catches in your throat and you hug your knees a little tighter with one arm while the other still holds Pedro’s hand, afraid of his answer to your next question, “Do you ever wish I had a woman’s body? Like do you ever want me to–” He had already started a string of no’s and shushing, his grip tightened on your hand and he leaned forward to set the bowl of popcorn down, because such a conversation needed both his hands free. “Don’t even finish that sentence. I won’t let you. I won’t… let you.” You let out that breath on a sigh. “I love you. And you are so much more than your body. Okay? You are a beautiful mind, and a generous heart, and a soul so big it can barely be contained in a human vessel.” He pulled your hand towards his lips and kissed the tips of your fingers. “If you want to change it should be for yourself… not for me, certainly not for some toxic TMZ horsepiss.” You didn’t know how you were so lucky to land this man, the man with the biggest heart and the kindest words who had so much love and appreciation for everyone he met until they gave him a reason not to. You had had the longest conversation with his little sister Lux when you had first met her, and you had been so enamoured by her and her journey that you felt compelled to come out to her the moment you were alone together. She had talked for hours about how supportive Pedro had been during her transition and now you were seeing it in real time. “If you want to change anything about yourself,” he carried on, “I will stand by you, I’ll love you, I’ll nurse you. If you are happy with yourself now, then I’m happy too. But I don’t ever wish for you to look different or sound different or feel different… The only thing, the only thing, I would change about you is how other people’s perception of you makes you feel. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. I recognize that I cannot relate to the struggles you have being transgender, because I am not, so this probably sounds disingenuous but please don’t feel like you need to change for me. Please. I’d never forgive myself.” If you did have any doubts, they had been melted away by his attentive words and his hands caressing you like you were so precious. “You are so dear to me.” you told him, not wanting to scare him with the L word because you knew if he heard it too many times in such a short space of time he got itchy and started to panic. He smiled a smile that seemed to be just for you and pulled you into his chest to hold you there for the rest of the night.

#pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fluff #( pedro pascal: babydin )

[my-castles-crumbling]

Chapter 7- Clandestine

Guys. I am not being dramatic when I say that I suffered from so much Writer's Block during this chapter. I know it's not amazing, but that this point I just needed to put something out there. Please please leave notes and comments and kudos, I need encouragement. CW: Walburga is in this one, guys. Nuff said? If not, transphobia, dysphoria, child abuse, unsafe binding, misgendering, deadnaming, all of those things.

The dream was always the same, now. His mother and father, backing him into a corner, wands raised, jeering at him.

Screaming his old name.

Repeating insults and promising horrible things, choking him with frills and lace.

He would always wake with a scream.

Barty and Evan swore he was cracking with the pressure of exams. Barty suggested drugs. Regulus chucked pillows at him.

-

“We have a plan, Reg,” Sirius reassured him one warm day in May.

It was true. They had a plan. That was all Regulus could remind himself as the days continued to warm.

A month at home. Then, he was to go to Dorcas’s and Sirius was to go to the Potters’.

A month. He could do that. He’d done it before. He had Sirius.

“I still don’t understand why Mother and Father agreed to my going to Cas’s house at all,” Regulus murmured back, not meeting Sirius’s concerned eyes.

That was how Sirius usually looked at him now- with worry and concern. He hated making Sirius worry, hated making anyone worry, but It didn’t help that he was a mess, with deep circles under his eyes and constantly wincing when he moved because of how tight he kept the bandages.

Sirius suggested, once, that he loosen them, but he refused. He hated the feeling of being without them. The nausea. The cold chills. And they kept him grounded, somehow. A reminder that he could fight against his body. Even though he felt, some days, like he was losing. Losing against everything, really.

“I…I think they’re just thankful that you want to be friends with a girl,” Sirius suggested gently.

Regulus mulled that over. He’d always rejected associating with girls, always pushed so much to not be grouped with his girl cousins, that his parents were probably rejoicing at the idea of him spending time with a pureblood girl. As if maybe Dorcas would have a good influence on him.

“Well, if they think she’ll make me more girly, they have another thing coming,” Regulus chuckled humorlessly. Dorcas was fierce and passionate and intelligent and relentless and bold. But she rejected bows and dresses almost as much as Regulus did.

“Yes, but they don’t have to know that,” Sirius grinned, knocking Regulus with his shoulder.

-

It was strange, how the days seemed to pass faster and faster as it got warmer. It was as if they were trying to run away, like they knew Regulus was grasping to them for dear life, and they would do anything to escape his hold.

The idea that he would only have to be home for a month sustained him. It kept him from completely freaking out. He felt the panic underneath his very skin, but he didn't let it break free.

Admittedly, he got sick of the way Sirius and his friends kept looking at him- like he was going to burst into tears or have some sort of fit. It made it worse. Like they thought he was fragile. Girls were fragile. He was not. He was...he could be...strong. He didn't want to worry anyone.

He was terrified, too, that if he became a burden, people would be less likely to indulge him. That they would see him as an inconvenience and stop helping him.

That was the only problem with the happiness that came with being who he was. He was petrified to lose it. And he needed people's help, at least for now, to continue.

He hated needing them, but he did need them. He needed Sirius's old uniforms and Pandora's biology know-how and Dorcas's haircutting charms. He needed them to call him but his name and remind him he wasn't crazy.

So he held the nerves and emotions inside, fearful of being too much, and reminded himself over and over again.

Only a month. Only a month.

-

His parents still had no idea he was called "Regulus" at school- that he was in the boys' dorms and was accepted as a boy there. He'd managed to hide his original letter from Hogwarts. So, he and Sirius decided he would avoid leaving the train for as long as possible when they arrived. That would stop anyone from referring to him as “Regulus” in front of his parents, and stop his parents from using his old name in front of his friends.

So as the train squealed to a stop and students piled out, he sat in the window, watching those he knew reunite with their families.

Dorcas ran to her exhausted-looking grandparents and hugged them eagerly, allowing her siblings to surround her and embrace her as well. She looked so thrilled, so relieved to see her family. The children were dressed in threadbare clothing but they still looked happy. Their smiles and rosy cheeks somehow made up for their mismatched outfits and array of obvious hand-me-downs.

In stark contrast, across the platform, Barty walked up to a very smartly-dressed man. It was clear this man had money- the way he held himself just oozed affluence. The man, Barty’s father, looked down on him with obvious distaste, gesturing towards Barty’s Slytherin tie. Regulus inhaled a bit as Barty visibly deflated, shrugging and making some sort of halfhearted comment back, only for the man to turn quickly and lead his son from the station. Anger riled a bit in Regulus’s stomach.

He then spotted Evan and Pandora walking slowly and waving goodbye to friends and towards Regulus on the train, looking around for their parents. Regulus realized only a moment after Evan and Pandora, themselves, that their parents weren’t there. His chest constricted as he saw a very meek-looking house elf walk towards them. They exchanged a glance before walking toward the elf, who they seemed to recognize, and the three of them walked towards the Floo connection in the back of the station wordlessly.

As they disappeared, Regulus took a moment to control his fury. Their parents didn’t even come for them. As they returned from their first year of Hogwarts. They sent the house elf. He wanted to punch the wall. He realized with a pang that he wasn't the only one of his friends who was in for a difficult summer.

In an effort to distract himself from this thought, he turned his head to watch someone else. Anyone else. And of course, his eyes found James Potter. They did that a lot.

He was walking toward a tall, handsome man with dark hair and glasses, who was grinning from ear to ear; and a shorter, chubby woman with tan skin and kind eyes, whose hair reached all the way down her back.

It was clear, very quickly, that the man and woman were Potter’s parents. Their features, their warmth, their laughter…even if they weren’t both hugging Potter, it would have been easy to see.

And then Sirius approached, waving a bit hesitantly. And in one fell swoop, the woman pulled Sirius in her arms, making him grin and blush a bit, as the four of them began talking quickly to each other.

And Regulus felt the insane urge to join them. To place himself in the middle of their four-way embrace and just drink in the obvious warmth there.

He felt the slightest tinge of jealousy seep through his body as he watched Sirius so easily meld into their little family, so easily receive love.

While he waited on the train alone.

-

“How was your first year, Regina? I trust you did well?”

The question at dinner that night hit him hard, the name stabbing white-hot, even more than usual after not having heard it for a year. He resisted the urge to upend the table.

What should he say?

“Regulus is top in his class, Mother,” came Sirius’s cold-but-proud voice from across the table.

Regulus fought back the urge to smile at Sirius’s pride. It was true. He’d aced every single one of his final exams.

But there was a beat of silence as it seemed Mother and Father were trying to decide how to react to Sirius’s statement.

Finally, Mother said, in a voice filled with cold fury, “Regulus?”

It was clear what she meant. She did not mean to address him. She meant to ask what Sirius meant by the name. Why he was still using it.

And suddenly, Regulus felt as if he was at a crossroads. He could submit to his parents for the summer, like he had been terrified to do. Play their games, allow them to scare him and control him. Or…

He looked at Sirius, who was looking back at him, that same sympathetic expression on his face. And all at once, he felt a stab of anger and bravery strike him.

He pasted an angelic smile on his face. “Yes, mother?” he asked politely, as if responding to his name being called.

Sirius’s mouth popped open and he grinned.

Regulus felt a moment of triumph and pride.

But then both he and Sirius yelled out at once, an invisible spell striking them both in the face.

“Do not use that name in my house,” Mother growled, chin raised and eyes flashing. "And if you dare embarrass our house with this little...illness anymore, Regina...your father and I will have to resort to more drastic measures.

Fighting back the sense of for guilt getting Sirius hurt but unable to be scared, Regulus just slammed his silverware down and left the room silently.

-

Was it better to get something you’ve yearned for for so long only to have someone try to rip it away from you again? Or just not get it at all?

This was the thing Regulus contemplated constantly over the next few weeks.

His parents were ruthless.

They seemed to still believe he only acted like this at home, that it was still a phase- an act of rebellion- and they had the chance to change it. It was as if they’d made an agreement to come down even harder on him this summer, to try to physically stomp the fight out of him. Like they’d agreed that, if they tried hard enough, they could exorcise any evidence of masculinity in him. Like a demon.

If he dared insist he was a boy, he was locked in his room. If he had the gall to correct anyone on his name, he was hit.

He was refused multiple meals for point-blank rejecting the dresses Mother bought him and had spells shot at him for continuously washing the makeup off his face when she wasn’t looking.

But this year, it was different.

He remembered, last year, the place he had been in. The shell he had become. He had been so tired, so hopeless, so frustrated. He’d tried to fight, but he’d had no idea who he was or how to be who he was. Despite Sirius’s best efforts, he’d never been given a true chance. The fight that had left him and the numbness he had felt had been like a trickle of water into his lungs, slowly drowning him without him even realizing.

But after a year at Hogwarts, a year of living, he couldn’t feel like that again. He couldn’t force himself back into that box. He knew better.

So he found it easier and less scary to fight and take the pain, because he knew it was better this way. Better than the way he reacted when submitting to their expectations or being someone he was not.

So, really, having gotten to be who he was for just a little while gave him the fight to remember who he was when he was being hurt and questioned and screamed at. When they tried to force him to forget.

-

After three weeks, though, it still took a toll.

He survived.

He lost far too much weight from the meals he wasn’t given.

He had layers of magically hidden bruises from his Mother’s wrath.

He winced and groaned as he pulled the bandages around his growing chest tiger still. He had heat rashes, now, and his skin was on fire.

He hated his body.

But he kept quiet. He didn’t allow anyone to see him in pain. He felt like that would be admitting defeat.

He also knew that if he showed his pain too much, Sirius would try to do more for him. And part of him was scared that Sirius would get sick of that. That he would leave him alone. Like he had when he'd gone to Hogwarts the first time.

Only twice did Sirius catch him crying. And both times, Sirius's startled look sent them both into waves of tears.

They survived together.

-

He’d stressed for days about going to Dorcas’s with long hair. He tried not to let it show, but he knew Sirius knew.

At Hogwarts, he cut it regularly. Dorcas knew a charm. But Mother and Father had taken both his and Sirius’s wands, and hidden anything sharp. They’d insisted he would do well to grow it out.

Instead, he worried.

But Sirius snuck into his room the night before they were both due to leave and led him to the bathroom, sitting him in the tub and taking a pair of scissors out from his pocket.

“Where’d you get those?” Regulus breathed, hardly daring to speak in more than a whisper. Mother and Father had been a lot more vigilant about checking to see if they were sneaking into each other’s rooms- they thought that Sirius was a bad influence.

“I sent Procyon to James and asked for a pair. I didn’t tell him why,” Sirius murmured, gently sitting on the edge of the tub behind him and snipping away.

Procyon was the family owl. But he was usually locked in his cage when not in use. “How–”

“Remus taught me how to pick locks the Muggle way,” Sirius cut him off, a smile in his voice. Snip. “It took a few nights of trying, but I finally got him out. Good he got some exercise, it’s not like Mother and Father use him often.”

Walburga and Orion preferred Floo calls or in-person meetings. Something about the post not being trustworthy.

“So they didn’t catch you?” Regulus asked, trying to hide the emotion in his voice.

Snip. “Don’t think so. Hold still, you’re squirming.”

But Regulus had to turn to face Sirius. Again, he was risking being caught and subsequently punished. Just for him. “I…thank you. For doing that.”

Sirius studied him for a moment, then smiled softly. “You’re worth it, Reggie.”

And Regulus turned away, not sure how to respond to that, instead just focusing on the feeling of the cool metal brushing his skin.

-

Let it be known that Sirius did not gain his dramatics in a vacuum. Walburga Black was known to be vindictively theatrical in her own special way.

Or maybe she was just pissed about his hair. Either way, she waited until the morning to tell them: Regulus was only allowed to go to Dorcas’s if she deemed Dorcas and her grandparents “appropriate.”

Regulus panicked. There was no way. Dorcas was the farthest thing from what his parents could count as appropriate- her fiery personality was far from ‘ladylike’ and she certainly would never refer to him as anything other than “Regulus.”

And the worst part was that Regulus had no way to warn her. Sirius had left before him for the Potters, and he was the best at coming up with plans. It all happened in a matter of moments. One second, he was packing, and the next Walburga was insisting she needed to make sure that Regulus would finally be around a 'good influence.' That she no longer would just be sending him through the Floo, she would be apparating him and meeting Dorcas and her family properly. Without leaving much time for argument, she dragged Regulus out the door.

-

Dorcas’s house was small. Especially for a family of seven. As they approached, Regulus took in the run-down lawn and obviously old exterior. The lawn was not cut and the paint of the house was peeling. He felt a pang of guilt as he thought back to the obnoxiously expensive way his parents had decorated their own house.

Walburga didn’t hesitate and rapped on the door firmly, sending birds in the tree nearby flying away.

Regulus’s heart hammered as they waited. He started picturing all of the things Mother could say to completely mortify him. Yes, Dorcas knew. But they had never discussed what she was going to tell her family. And she had never seen Regulus around his parents. The way his mother treated him. Maybe she saw him as a boy now, but after Walburga was through? Things would change, he was sure.

The door opened slowly. “Hello, can I help you?”

It was Dorcas. Thankfully, she looked decently put together. (Not that Regulus minded- he’d seen her in her pajamas enough to not care. But he knew his mother would judge.)

Walburga still looked down her nose at Dorcas, of course. And then…“Yes, is your mother home?” she asked snootily. Regulus blanched. He had told her. Told her that Dorcas was raised by her grandparents. Why was she so insensitive–? “My grandmother is here,” Dorcas answered simply, not allowing her expression to change.

Regulus tried to shoot her an apologetic glance even as he wanted to strangle his mother.

Dorcas left, only to return with the older woman from the train station. “How can I help you?” the woman asked politely.

With no introduction, Walburga started in. “I’d like to talk to you about my daughter before I leave her with you. I want to make sure your home is….appropriate for Regina.” Walburga spoke in almost a snarl, not bothering to keep the accusation out of her voice.

Daughter. Her. Regina. He fought back a gag. His hands shook. He felt goosebumps all over his body, as if his own skin was trying to reject the words. He studied Dorcas’s face, searching for disgust there, his heart pounding with fear and anticipation.

But Dorcas spoke up, confidently, her expression seemingly warm, but Regulus could detect a hint of fakeness. “We’re very excited to have Regina. We’ll make sure she’s very safe here.”

Regulus’s mouth popped open audibly, and he felt tears form in his eyes before he could stop them. Hearing his old name come from Dorcas’s mouth was worse, somehow. Why was it worse? His brain reeled and he felt his stomach roil, but then Dorcas threw him a sharp glance, tilting her head just slightly at Regulus’s mother.

His visibly pleased mother.

And it clicked.

“Yes, Dorcas has told me all about Regina,” Dorcas’s grandmother agreed brightly, also throwing Regulus a meaningful look. “She’s always welcome and safe here.”

Regulus blinked. He looked back and forth between the two adults, who seemed to now be in some sort of stare-off. He decided to go for broke and really sell it. “Cas promised to teach me how to straighten my hair,” he murmured, trying to make his voice sound high-pitched and excited, while simultaneously holding back his breakfast.

Walburga looked at him for a moment and Regulus knew he had her. As protective of her reputation as she was, Walburga would never outright ask if he was introducing himself as Regulus in school or telling his friends about his ‘problem.’ That would be admitting in the first place that he wasn’t the 'perfect daughter.'

So all she could do was…

“Alright. Lovely to meet you, then.”

And that was that.

-

Please please leave comments and kudos and love and read the WIP here!

Credit to @betweendyingstars whose beautiful fanart partially inspired a scene in this chapter, though their version of Sirius and Reggie are older.

#marauders #harry potter #marauders era #fanfic #sirius black kinnie #regulus black kinnie #jegulus #harry potter marauders #marauders fandom #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #the marauders #regulus arcturus black #regulus deserved better #regulus black #sirius and regulus #sirius is a good brother #tw transphobes #tw abuse #tw gender dysphoria #tw misgendering #dorcas meadowes #dorcas my beloved #pandora rosier #pandora #evan rosier #barty crouch junior #barty crouch jr #trans regulus #trans reggie

[trans-wojak]

I swear to fucking god, do people even listen to themselves these days? Another stupid girl posting on Facebook that she’s supposedly “agender” but ain’t ever going to inform her parents about her precious gender identity because they won’t understand. That she will die without them ever knowing.

Do you know how privileged that is? Literally, your parents won’t even give a fuck. Why? Because you aren’t actually going to transition. Do you know what happens to ACTUAL transsexuals? We get kicked out of home, we get abused, our parents disown us. I was NOT put in conversion therapy and pushed back into the closet for fucking 9 years then made homeless just so some stupid girls can think “oh but I don’t feel like a girl, I’m fine with my sex tho” is on the same level as me.

My parents originally fucking were horrible to me, they put me in conversion therapy and you what that lead to? Me having such low self esteem that I believed being abused was normal, so normal that I got into a domestic violent relationship that lasted for 9 years. Conversion therapy actively encourages you to consider suicide as an option if you can’t live as your assigned sex. They break down your spirit, they basically try to convince you that you’re delusional. Leaving him meant I was left with NOTHING but not only that, I had already started testosterone and the changes were beginning to get too obvious for my dad to ignore. He literally made me homeless cause he refused to have me live with him until I could get my own place. Because now I wasn’t just looking like a dyke, I was now showing signs of true transsexuality.

Both my parents are better now, they have a lot of regret about treating me so poorly over my gender dysphoria - but they are not perfect. My mum will still run away and hide from people who knew me prior to my transition if I’m with her because she doesn’t want to defend me if they are nasty when they realise it’s [deadname] as a man now. My dad still uses she/her pronouns for me even though it makes people think he has dementia lol. He constantly thinks I’m going to kill myself because I will eventually regret my transition. He also thinks everyone can always tell that I’m trans even though I’m stealth in real life. He lets it slip that he thinks I will never find a partner, constantly tells my mum that he wishes I “just stayed as a lesbian butch woman**”. My mum thinks [deadname] and Mike are two different people, she thinks she lost a daughter, but gained a son even though I am the same person. She has said before that I killed her first daughter when we have arguments.

I am so sick of this non binary craze bullshit. Y’all don’t understand that transsexuals do not get the same benefits you do, you can hide being “trans.” You can put on your they/them pins at LGBTIBBQ meet ups but take them off to go back to your cis life. I cannot. My life is forever shaped by this bullshit, I am struggling so hard to change my name legally so EVERY TIME I do anything that requires that nonsense - people treat me like fucking shit. Cause they see a bloke in front of them but a legal female name, they know. Nurses are absolute trash to me if I ever go to the hospital because of my legal name. They use he/him until they see the paper work then do a condescending smile and use my deadname, she/her etc. Its rare that I have a decent nurse or doctor who ACTUALLY continues to treat me correctly.

Your non binary identity is based all on fucking sexist gender roles and without those, you wouldn’t have an identity. Mine is based on the fact my brain sex is male but my body was born female and I’m actively changing that to male.

We are not the same.

#personal #rant post #anti mogai #lgbt exclu #transmed #d slur mention

[sentientgolfball]

Ghoulette Appreciation: Week 5

I went with comfort for this one and oh boy

Read here or on Ao3

Pairing: Mistshine

Word count: 1831

Tags: hurt/comfort, Sunny is very self-deprecating, little bit of internalized transphobia (Sunny deadnames herself very briefly), Mist cares so very much though don't worry

Summary: Mist finds Sunshine hiding in one of the summoning rooms after she had a run-in with a few Siblings who forgot demons have sensitive ears.

Mist had been walking back to the den when they smelled it. It was sharp and spicy, like someone had dumped a little bit of everything from the spice rack into a bowl and let it simmer on the stove. It made her face twist up with how strong it was. She scented the air to determine what direction to follow to figure out what had caused the smell in the first place. She paused for only a moment when the bitter taste of vanilla extract coated her tongue. 

“Sunshine” she whispered. 

She choked down the rising nausea at the strength of the smell and quickened her pace. They followed the trail Sunny unconsciously left for them, only stopping a handful of times to suck in a breath as they traversed the winding corridors of the Ministry. The closer Mist got the worse they started to feel. Not just because of the smell, but because of where it was leading her. Down a darkened hall, right to where every ghoul begins their life or, for some, where it ends. 

They clutched the little paper bag in their hand harder as they stepped into the summoning room. They didn’t have to be a quintessence ghoul to feel the magick on the air. It made them uneasy, like the ground would split open and they’d crash right back into the void of Lord Leviathan’s domain. The smell was strongest here. 

Now that they were in the room, Mist could hear soft cries coming from behind the stone altar. They approach, purposefully making their footsteps heard. They set the paper bag on the altar and crouch down. 

“Sunshine? Why are you in here?” 

She looks up at her with eyes full of tears “Mist?” 

They don’t even have time to process Sunny clinging to her with how fast she moves. They stiffen at the sudden contact. Mist only relaxes enough to hold her back when they feel her tears covering their neck and staining their shirt. 

“Sunshine, will you tell me why you’re hiding here?” 

No ghoul liked going near the summoning rooms. They only did so when they needed to be present for a new arrival. Infernal magick clung to the air making it hard to forget the time spent in the pits. 

“Because I should be sent back.” 

Mist feels a cold claw through her whole body like her nervous system was shocked awake all at once. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I should be sent back to the Hells because there’s no fucking use for me up here.” 

“Who told you that?” Mist demanded.

Sunny sniffs and sits back to look at them. She swipes her arm across her face and fumbles to put her glasses back on. 

“Take your time Sunshine please, when you’re ready I want to know exactly what happened.”

She nods and sniffs again, opening and closing her mouth a few times trying to find the words. 

“I was going to the kitchen to grab lunch cause I was done with my chores when I overheard some Siblings talking.”

Mist nods, staring at Sunshine with rapt attention.

“I was gonna go join them. I love talking to the Siblings but…”

She chokes on her words. Mist lays a hand on her knee, silently supporting. 

“But when I heard them say my name I stopped. I was gonna say something cause I was right there and then they also said Aurora’s name so I hid behind a pillar and listened.”

“What did they say?”

“They…they said how good of a fit Aurora was. How she was a natural. They said it was a good thing I was replaced because I wasn’t doing enough. They didn’t fucking want me. Nobody fucking wanted me! I was replaced for a reason!”

“Sunshine.”

“I knew I wasn’t good enough, I knew that’s why they got rid of me. But I tried so hard. It’s unfair! I just wanna know what I could’ve done better. What I did wrong. Maybe I could’ve fixed it! But they didn’t let me fix it!”

“Sunshine.”

“Maybe it’s because I crawled out of the pit wrong. Maybe if I had stayed Sol instead of Sunshine I’d still be with my pack. I’d still be wanted.”

Mist had had enough. She grabs Sunny’s face and pulls her closer, finally getting her attention.

“I will not hear another word of this Sunshine. You truly believe your pack does not miss you as much as you miss them? You truly believe that you would be damned for following in His footsteps by being yourself? You truly believe nobody wants you?” 

Sunshine stares at her for what feels like an eternity, eyes red-rimmed and slowly filling back up with tears. She searches Mist’s severe expression before dropping her gaze to the floor, mumbling out a weak ‘I’m sorry.’

“No Sunshine, there is no reason for you to be sorry. You did nothing wrong. Any rational being would be hurt by what you overheard, but the opinions of some humans are not the truth.”

“Then what is? If the truth isn’t what everyone else sees.”

“That is not what everyone sees.”

Sunny sniffs and tries to turn her head away, but Mist holds her there.

“If that is how you define the truth then let me tell you what I have seen. I have seen you calling the pack every night even if it hurts your sleep. I have seen you running through every hall of this Ministry since your summoning finishing your chores well before the day is over. I have seen the way faces brighten when you enter the room. I have seen the way you have helped my Dewdrop be himself again. You made yourself Sunshine. You embody everything your name means and more. You should be proud of that.”

Sunshine tries to shake her head but Mist holds her strong. 

“I will not let you believe something that could not be further from the truth.” 

“Why do you care so much?” Her voice is weak and cracked. 

“Because I…”

“Because you do not deserve to feel this way. Nobody deserves to feel this way, but especially you Sunshine. I care greatly for you, you are a part of the pack and that means I care.” 

Sunny wants nothing more than to curl up into a little ball and hide away until the summoning circle splits open and swallows her. She doesn’t want to face the voice in her head that tells her she was never good enough. She doesn’t want to go back to the world knowing some of the Siblings she called friends confirmed her worst fears. It’s too much for her when all she’s ever given was her best. 

But in that moment with Mist burning a hole into her soul with those deep blue eyes, Sunshine stopped thinking. For just a moment she stopped thinking. The words Mist had said to her with the fervor of a preacher sinking into every corner of her mind. Someone believed in her. Deep down she knew the whole pack did. Papa did. They all did. But there in that moment it was only Mist. She knew there was nothing deeper to it, but they never said something if they didn’t mean it and that’s all Sunshine needed. 

“Do you understand me Sunshine?” 

She stopped thinking. 

Sunny surged forward. She kissed Mist with the soft intensity of a summer’s day. She wanted, needed, to tell them she heard them. That she could believe them if she tried. She clung hard to Mist’s shirt like if she let go one of them would turn dust. She didn’t know who would be worse. 

She lingered for as long as she could, but after a moment her mind caught up with her. She was kissing Mist. Mist wasn’t kissing her back. Sunshine broke it immediately and scurried back. She brought a shaking hand up to her lips. 

“I’m sorry I know you don’t like…I’m sorry I wasn’t thinking” she stood and tried to leave as fast as she could. 

Before she could get more than two steps in Mist’s arm darted forward, stopping her in her tracks. Mist slowly stood from where she was crouched on the floor. Sunshine stiffened waiting for the bite or the sting of her barbs or the I never want to see you again. 

It never came. 

What she got was a cold hand on her shoulder guiding her to turn around. Her eyes were plastered to the ground as she did. 

“Sunshine.”

“Yeah…”

“Did you eat?”

That got her attention. She snapped her head up and looked at Mist in bewilderment. 

“What?” 

“You said you were getting lunch when you ran into the Siblings. Did you eat?” 

“Um no…no I didn’t.” 

Mist nodded and sat upon the stone altar, patting the space next to her. Sunshine, albeit very confused, sat next to them. Mist grabbed the paper bag she brought with her and placed it in Sunny’s lap. 

“Take it.” 

“Huh?” 

“You need to eat or you’ll get a headache.” 

Sunshine was still on edge, still waiting for the moment Mist would take back everything she said to her. 

But it never came. 

Even as Sunny sat there eating the little lunch Mist had put together for herself it never came. They sat in silence for a while until Sunshine started to peel the orange from the bag. 

“I want to ask you something.” 

Sunny’s claws stopped tearing at the fruit’s flesh as she tensed up. 

“Okay.” 

“Who were the Siblings?” 

When Sunny didn’t answer right away, Mist turned to look at her. 

“Who were the Siblings Sunshine?” 

“Uhhh I didn’t really know them. There were two girls and a guy. That’s all I really know I’m sorry.” 

“Nothing to be sorry for” Mist carefully took the fruit from her hand and peeled the rest of the skin off. The flesh of the orange was half mangled by Sunny’s claws but it was still edible. 

Once Sunny finished eating and felt calm enough to be seen in the halls again the pair stood and made their way back to the ghoul den. They made it back without running into any others, both of them were grateful for that. When they entered Aether, Ifrit, and Zephyr were lounging on the couch. They all turned immediately, smelling the lingering scent of Sunny’s turmoil and the Infernal magick clinging to both of them. 

Sunshine said nothing as she climbed into Aether’s lap and curled against him, burying her face into his chest. Mist continued walking, heading for her room. Ifrit and Zephyr made brief eye contact before the fire ghoul sprang up after her. 

“Mist what the Hells happened?” 

“You are familiar with most of the humans here, correct?” 

“Yeah but what does that have to do with anything?” 

They turned towards him and he felt his eyebrows raise at the pure fury on her face. 

“I need your help Ifrit.” 

#the band ghost #nameless ghouls #ghost bc #the band ghost fic #mist x sunshine #mistshine #mist ghoulette #sunshine ghoulette #ghoulette appreciation weeks 2024 #ghoulette appreciation #golfball writes

[karmic-vibes]

If I Can Dream

8 - Oh Why Can’t My Dream Come True

art credit: @lazylittledragon on tumblr and lazyjunebug on twitter

cw: gender dysphoria, misuse of pronouns, use of deadname

Year: 1988

“They’re gonna freak out,” Eddie panicked.

“No they won’t,” Steve assured.

“They’re gonna call me a girl,” he hissed.

“And I’ll yell at them, then we’ll leave. You’re my boyfriend and soon-to-be husband, alright? I’m not gonna let them walk all over you.”

“If you say so.”

“Oh, hello boys. What brings you here?” he asked.

“Oh, hello boys. What brings you here?” he asked.

“Off to a good start,” Steve whispered. “Hi, dad. We, uh… we actually had some news we wanted to share with you guys.”

“Alright, what is it?”

“For starters, we’re getting married.”

“Oh, congratulations!” Pattie cheered, forcing the two of them into a hug.

“How, uh… how exactly does that work?” John asked.

“Well…” Steve looked to Eddie, seeking his approval before continuing. He gave him a nod and a reassuring rub on the back. “Since Eddie is still legally considered a female, we’re able to get married. When we go to change his last name, he’ll finally be changing his first one too.”

“About time,” John said.

“You’re telling me,” Eddie dryly chuckled.

“So what else?” Pattie asked.

“Hmm?” Steve hummed.

“You said ‘for starters’—what else is there?”

“Well…” They looked the each other, fear filling their eyes. “We’re, um… uh…”

“For Christ’s sake, we’re having a baby,” Eddie rushed out.

Pattie and John stood there catching flies. Their eyes bulged out of their head, not quite sure how to take the news.

“Okay, not everyone speak all at once, god,” Steve said.

“I… are you sure?” Pattie asked.

“Yeah, we’re sure.”

“Okay, but how sure?”

“I took an at home test and just got my blood work done. So… pretty sure…”

“Wow… John?”

His father didn’t answer. Instead, he pushed past the boys and made his way to the study. Pattie rolled her eyes and chased after her husband.

“Told you so,” Eddie said.

“Not the time, Munson. Mom, dad?” Steve called.

“What?” Pattie sighed.

“We just… we thought you guys would be happy. You know… grandkids, yay…”

“Steven, we put up with this whole charade you made us put on for your girlfriend–“

“Whoa–“

“I am not done speaking, Steven. You make us relearn a name, address her by some ridiculous new pronouns. We can accept the two of you getting married, since legally we can’t stop you. But having a child? No, absolutely not. You two as parents? Please. It’s an unfit household.”

“How, dad? Hmm? How are we unfit to be parents?”

“A child needs a mom and a dad. Not a dad and a fucking tranny.”

“Yeah, because a mom and a dad did me so fucking well. We’re done here. Let’s go.”

Steve grabbed onto Eddie’s wrist and practically dragged him out of the house. He opened Eddie’s door for him and shut it once he was fully in the car. Even when he was heated beyond belief, he always took the time to treat Eddie the way he deserved. Especially now that they had a child on the way, he always found a reason to calm himself down.

Without realizing, Steve was driving with his mind on autopilot. Despite not being scheduled to work that day, he found himself pulling into the Family Video lot. When it clicked, he blinked aimlessly a few times and profusely apologized to Eddie.

“No, no, it’s okay, honey. Let’s get a movie or something while we’re here and say hi to Robin.”

“Yeah, okay…”

“We don’t have to tell her yet if you don’t want.”

“No, no I do. Sorry, my parents put me in a bad mood.”

“I know, it’s okay.”

Steve got out, rushing over to get Eddie’s door for him. He helped him out and the two stood outside the door, trying to silently reassure each other before heading inside. As Eddie reached for the door, Steve grabbed his waist and pulled him in for a sweet kiss.

The two caught Robin’s eye as she was processing some returns. She raised a brow and leaned over the counter, waiting for the two to walk in. They mumbled something incoherent to each other before Steve opened the door for Eddie.

“Long time, no see, boys. How’re we doing today?”

“Good,” Eddie smiled. “How’re you, Rob?”

“I’m good,” she said, glancing over at Steve. “Are you hiding something from me, Harrington? You’re usually talking my ear off.”

“Can we talk in the back, Rob?”

“Sure… everything okay?”

“Yeah, just come on.”

The friends dipped into the cramped back room as Eddie wandered around looking for a movie for the night. Robin leaned against the door as Steve hopped onto the desk with a huff.

“What’s really going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“Something’s up. What’s going on?”

“Sorry, we just got back from my parents’ house.”

“Ah. Any reason you were there?”

“Do I need a reason to visit my parents?” Robin raised a brow and crossed her arms. “Yeah, okay, you got me there.” Steve buried his face in his hands. “Eddie’s pregnant…”

“Holy shit, what? How?”

“We weren’t careful and uh… yeah. He’s pregnant. Just about two months, now.”

“Wow… so, you’re gonna be a dad?”

“I know…”

“What the hell‽”

“I know!”

“Jesus… how does Eddie feel about the whole thing?”

“He’s nervous, understandably. I’m more nervous for his mental state, y’know?”

“Why?”

“Rob, he’s worked so hard getting where he is. He’s come out to me, to everyone we know, dealt with the backlash, went through the agony of top surgery, and now… after all that… he’s pregnant… it’s like two steps forward and three steps back. I feel terrible.”

“Steve, he loves you and I’m sure he’s happy to do this for you. If he weren’t, I’m sure he’d bring up the idea of getting rid of it. I think he’ll be okay.”

“I just worry.”

“And you have every right to worry! It just means you’re a good boyfriend.”

“Fiancé,” he corrected.

“Jesus, Harrington, I don’t see you for a week and you come in here saying you’re gonna be a dad and a husband!”

“I know, crazy, huh?”

“Where does all the time go, Christ…”

“What do you mean?” Steve chuckled.

“Steve, three years ago, when we met at Scoops, you and Ed had only been dating for like six or seven months. Both unsure what you’d be doing with each of your futures. Now here you are, nearly college graduates, engaged, and future dads. It’s insane!”

“Yeah, I guess it is…”

“I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks, Rob. That means a lot.”

“Of course, dingus. I’ll always be happy for you.”

“Thanks,” Steve chortled. “I should go check on the husband. Lord knows what he’s getting into.”

“Probably ruining all my hard work from this morning,” Robin teased.

“I wouldn’t put it past him.”

As if I’m cue, as the friends emerged from the back room, Eddie had tripped over one of the displays Robin had spent all morning setting up. She pinched the bridge of her nose, motioning for Steve to collect his man.

“Sorry,” Eddie started. “Pregnancy brain is already getting to me.”

“I figured. Congrats, by the way.”

“Thanks, Robin…” Eddie blushed as Steve helped him up. “Uh, Stevie, how do you feel about a horror movie?”

“Depends which one.”

“Nightmare on Elm?”

“Ed, we’ve watched that a million times.”

“Yeah, your point?”

“God, I hate you. Fine, we’ll rent it again, but I’m getting something too.”

“Fine by me. I’ll be right back,” he said, setting the tape down on the counter.

“Where’re you running off to?” Steve asked.

“If you must know, Steven, I feel like I’m about to puke my guts out. Happy?”

“Dear lord. Call me if you need anything.” Eddie gave him a thumbs up as he headed to the Staff Only bathroom.

“So, what’re you gonna make him sit through?” Robin asked.

“A birthing video. He wants horror, I’ll give him horror.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?”

“Why not? We both need to be prepared.”

“If you say so.”

Later that night, after the boys had dinner and finished watching Nightmare on Elm Street, Steve surprised Eddie with the birthing video. At first, Eddie was reluctant to watch it, especially so soon, but he eventually caved and let Steve pop the tape in.

The tape started out as rather informational, going through the different stages of labor and what to expect in each. What neither of them were anticipating, was it cutting to a woman actually pushing a child out of her.

“Can result in a severe hemorrhage, which could lead to death in minutes,” the narrator droned.

Eddie and Steve sat back on the couch, clutching their thighs to their chests, mouths hanging open with eyes popped out of the skulls.

“Steven, why did you make me watch that‽”

“I don’t know!”

“Was that meant to be comforting‽”

“I don’t know!”

“Oh my god, a human is going to be coming out of me!” Eddie panicked. “This is all your fault, Harrington!”

“What is‽”

“First knocking me up, then showing me that video!”

“I’m sorry!”

“Ugh!” Eddie fell back on the couch, dragging a blanket with him. He cocooned himself in the couch’s throw, only allowing his eyes to pop out. “This kid better be worth it.”

“She will be.”

“I hate you, Harrington.”

“I know you do, Munson…” Steve sighed as he rubbed his fiancé’s back. “I know you do…”

#eddie munson #eddie st4 #eddie stranger things #gay #st4 #steddie #steve harrington #steve x eddie #stranger things #lgbtq #pride #lgbt pride #trans eddie munson #transgender #parent steddie #joseph quinn #joe kerry #robin buckley #maya hawke

[kitgundy]

DYSPHORIA

Mom, do you know how much of a nightmare it is?

Looking down at my body and feeling like something’s wrong

Looking back and examining and reexamining my past thoughts, my past beliefs

Realizing I’m a boy and no matter how much I try to deny it I always have been

I’m a boy. I’m a boy, <DEADNAME> isn’t a boy name. I’m not a FUCKING SHE. I AM NOT A SHE AND MY NAME ISNT <DEADNAME> PLEASE GOD JUST STOP FUCKING CALLING ME THOSE THINGS YOU TELL ME TO STOP TELLING YOU TO STOP, YOU TELL ME IT HURTS YOU WHEN I TELL YOU TO STOP, YOU SAY ITS BECAUSE OF MY TONE WHEN I TELL YOU BUT IT HAS BEEN FUCKI YEARS AND YOU HAVENT EVEN TRIED DO YOU KNOW HOW MCH THAT HURTS ME?

I can’t even explain how tiring it is that you look at me and you don’t see me for who I am. You see a girl who doesn’t know herself. You see a stupid little girl who is following a trend. IF YOU REALLY KNEW ME YOU WOULD KNOW I DONT FUCKING FOLLOW TRENDS MOM!!!! It isn’t a fucking phase! I thought I was just non-binary and I told you back then. And I wish I hadn’t, because I was still confused about what I was and I went about it aggressively and that isn’t how you tell people how you really feel because then they’ll never believe you.

You will never believe me when I tell you who I am. I don’t know if I hate you for it or if I can just ignore it so I can still love you. It’s both. I have to ignore the way you see me so I can love you in a way that works. I hate when you talk about me to other people because I know the words you will speak, I know the name you will use, and I try to brace myself but it still hurts more every fucking time.

God, I wish I was just born a boy. I wish I was born and raised like a boy. I wish I had a dick. I wish I had a deep voice. I wish I had facial hair, I want to look at myself in the mirror, I want to look in the mirror and not see a stranger looking back at me.

I don’t know what to do. Whenever I try to explain what I want to be (a gender non conforming guy but also just some guy), you butt in and say “why not be a gender non conforming girl?”

BECAUSE I TRIED THAT AND IT DIDNT WORK. I LOVE MYSELF AND I LOVE MY BODY BUT I AM ALSO IN THE WRONG BODY AND THERES MEDICAL WAYS TO FIX THAT BUT IF I TRY TO DO THAT UNDER YOUR ROOF I AM TWRRIFIED OF WHAT COULD HAPPEN TO ME. And GOD I am terrified of doing the medical treatments too, because I am one bad politician away from my entire life being ruined when I do go on those. There’s already a lot of states I cannot safely go to or live in. I can’t fucking visit my grandmother in Florida because I am TERRIFIED of how I would be treated there. I am TERRIFIED of the politics there.

And yeah, sure, maybe I wouldn’t visit that grandmother anyway, sue me. I know there’s gotta be somewhere you got your beliefs from and I’m willing to bet it’s not just the church, but also her. God I hope it’s her and not just you absorbing the church’s ideals like a sponge, because I KNOW you’re smarter than that. And I KNOW childhood beliefs can be challenged and changed, but there’s a sinking feeling in my heart that it isn’t just childhood beliefs. There’s a sinking feeling that that church is part of why you’re not a safe space for me.

And I am so scared, because I know when I move out, I am going to double down. I’m a man. I’m a boy. I always have been. I always will be. I don’t know how to explain it, you try to explain why you’re a woman without saying it’s because of your body. Tell me why your spirit is a woman without saying “I don’t know”. What exactly is your connection with womanhood?

I’ll tell you my connection with manhood. When I was a little kid, I didn’t think about this stuff. But I thought it would be REALLY cool to do things in a boy way. I tried and failed multiple times to stand up to pee, just to prove I could. I didn’t even really care about the stereotypes, I just thought it’d be cool to be a boy.

I remember years later, I was sitting in front of the old TV, staring at the screen after starting a new save on Pokémon Ruby. I was wondering if I should pick the boy option. Part of me REALLY wanted to pick the boy option.

But I was scared. Why was I scared? Had my mind already been poisoned with subconscious hatred, even at such a young age? I don’t know. I just know when I heard someone nearby, I picked the girl option- out of FEAR. Part of me KNEW I shouldn’t pick the boy option. Part of me KNEW I shouldn’t even be thinking about it.

I didn’t think about these things back then, didn’t realize being a boy was an option- in fact, I thought it was dangerous. I considered myself boyish, sure. I wasn’t a tomboy, but tomboy fit what I thought I was, I thought I was a girl who felt weirdly.. boy.

My breasts started to grow. I had been excited for them at first, but when they actually grew, I hated them. I didn’t know why. I just wanted to hide them. I wanted them gone. I was excited, so why was I feeling like this?

Why did I hate the way my body was changing?

Must just be normal puberty, right? Everyone hates their bodies changing like this. And besides, the breasts came with periods, and periods suck. So maybe I was just hating puberty as a whole.

The feeling didn’t go away. It just got worse and worse and worse.

I grew up. And then I found out what trans means. And then I did research. And then I picked a fight with you, telling you I’m non-binary.

Because that’s what I thought I was. I had never had time to really think about it, after all. I wasn’t a girl, but I couldn’t be a boy, right? “Boys are gross and ugly and annoying and I don’t want to be that so I can’t be a boy. Besides, trans is too strong of a word for what I feel,” that’s what I thought.

And time went on. And I matured. And I realized that, yes, I am a boy. A girlish boy, maybe, a genderfuck boy who wants to wear dresses AND suits, but he will NEVER be recognized as a boy when he does wear a dress because his body doesn’t match his soul.

The more I grow, the more I realize:

My body wasn’t meant for me and I wasn’t meant for this body.

My voice in my head is lower than how it comes out. My face itches for lack of facial hair, my whole body itches for lack of hair. Long hair feels suffocating, blinding. I can’t even bear to look at my chest anymore, can barely bear to touch it.

And it HURTS every time I look in the mirror, every time I speak.

But not NEARLY as much as it hurts to hear that name.

I chose the name Kris because it was convenient. <DEADNAME> and Kris both start with a K. They’re both four letters. And, unlike <DEADNAME>, NOBODY is going to say the name Kris wrong, and nobody is gonna SEE the name Kris and assume it’s a girl’s name.

I chose the name Kris, and my pronouns fluctuated, but my name stayed the same. For TWO YEARS it stayed the same.

And yet you still keep calling me <DEADNAME>. You keep calling me a DAUGHTER. You keep calling me a SHE.

It HURTS.

And honestly? I wish you just wouldn’t call for me at all at this point.

I love you. But I can only handle you in small amounts, and only when we’re alone, because when you talk about me, you use words that drive straight into my soul.

I am not a FUCKING girl.

Girls are awesome. They’re great. Girls are beautiful, and wonderful, and I love girls.

It’s just.. I’m not one. I never was.

And I don’t know how you can’t see that.

Don’t you remember? The times when I was a kid, when I would try to stand up to pee? Don’t you know how much I wished to be a brother too? I made being the only daughter my personality, but that’s because I didn’t know I could be anything else.

Didn’t you see how much I tried to reject femininity?

One day, I said I hate the color pink. I said I hate it with a passion, I spat vicious vitriol at such a pretty color.

I was wearing a pink jacket.

Years later, I look back and I see a confused, hurting.. I’m not sure what I was.

Honestly.. I don’t think I was a boy then. I mean, I was ALWAYS a boy deep down, but at the time, I didn’t KNOW that, and I was trying REALLY HARD to just be a girl but not like other girls(?), so I’m not really sure what I was then.

I just know I wasn’t a girl. And some part of me deep down knew that, and was VICIOUSLY attacking everything feminine I did and liked in an attempt to distance myself from it all.

I hate that you can’t recognize that.

I love you, and I love the name <DEADNAME>, it’s such a nice name, really. I love women, they’re so wonderful and deserving of all the best (deserving of much better than society gives them, really).

But I’m not <DEADNAME>. I’m not your daughter, I’m not a she.

I will probably burst into tears if you ever call me your son. And I am TERRIFIED. Because I KNOW you will take that the wrong way, use it as yet another reason I’m just confused.

I’m not. I think YOURE confused.

You tell me statistics aren’t good to use but good GOD, the statistics I use are REAL. They’re from STUDIES. If you can’t use real FUCKING numbers, what the hell else are you supposed to do?

I don’t know what to do. It hurts more to talk to you every day because it’s getting worse and worse the longer I spend in a body that doesn’t fit with a voice that doesn’t match, and YOU aren’t helping.

I’m so, so tired of being seen as something I’m not. I’m so tired of fantasizing and dreaming about being seen for who I am and then being reminded that wouldn’t be safe.

I’m tired of you. I love you, but you make me so, so tired.

So forgive me if I got too snappish when I corrected you. Holding in the corrections is only serving to hurt me, and I don’t feel safe around you anymore.

Honestly, I doubt I ever did.

I don’t remember the last time I had a genuine conversation with you that ended where you understood me. You look at me and you see this wayward child, this lost sheep. You don’t try to understand ME, you only try to make me understand YOU.

Well, guess what? I am an ADULT HUMAN MAN. Your god will NEVER be mine, he has HURT ME. I’m not a sixteen year old trapped in a nineteen year old body, I am NINETEEN and AUTISTIC. I'm not maturing the way you thought I would because school and everything in my life burnt me out and people hurt me, so I didn’t get to emotionally mature when I should have, and I’m picking up the pieces left behind by that trauma now but that doesn’t mean I’m not an adult. I still feel too overwhelmed by the world to live on my own but I am an ENTIRE ADULT and you need to REALIZE that. I know I’m still young and stupid, but that doesn’t make me not an adult. YOU NEED TO LOOK AT ME AND SEE AN ADULT.

Oh, and on your religion? I’m not a lost sheep, I am a WOLF who will EAT your Shepard.

Because I was a blue sheep.

I was a blue sheep who was painted pink, and the flock said “Our Shepard loves you no matter what color you are!”

But when I showed my colors, the flock turned away. Averted their eyes and avoided me.

And you did too.

And that shepard never said a word to me, never even noticed when I was left behind.

The meaner ones in the flock even called me a wolf. So you know what I did? I grew fangs.

You know what? Part of me wants to bite you- that is to say, to keep correcting you. You take that as a bite? Fine. I will fucking bite, until you bleed enough that you decide enough is enough.

You can choose whether you distance yourself from me or actually start referring to me by my name, by my pronouns. You can respect me or you can leave.

I don’t care.

I hate you. I love you, but I hate you so much.

I don’t even hate you, actually. I’m just hurt. I’m so hurt and angry and I feel so guilty for feeling this way.

I didn’t choose to be a blue sheep. I didn’t choose to get turned into a wolf. The flock thought of me as one and that’s what I became.

I never asked for this.

I never asked for you to adopt me. I never asked to be put with someone who can’t understand.

Why don’t you understand?

WHY DONT YOU UNDERSTAND!?

WHY DON’T I UNDERSTAND!!!???

I DO UNDERSTAND!!! You don’t know how to understand. Because you only look at one side.

The church’s side.

Your God’s side.

I want to kill your god.

So many of my problems would be solved if he never existed. So many of my problems wouldn’t exist if Joseph Smith didn’t exist.

Maybe I wouldn’t be alive today.

Or maybe fate has a way, and our family would have been together somehow anyway, and maybe you’d care for me the way you do for my brothers. Maybe you’d stop seeing me as your daughter.

If I was born a boy, maybe I’d be your weird gay GNC son.

Please call me your son.

Please call me your son.

PLEASE CALL ME YOUR SON.

I LOVE YOU PLEASE, I BEG YOU ON MY FUCKING HANDS AND KNEES PLEASE CALL ME YOUR SON IM YOUR SON I AM YOUR FUCKING SON PLEASE CALL ME YOUR

#tw dysphoria #unsupportive family #unsupportive mother #vent post #tw vent #personal vent #vent writing #trans vent #transmasc #gender dysphoria #please ignore this lmao I was feeling some sort of way

[moonysfavoritetoast]

this got a bit long…whoops

people don’t take me fucking seriously

the whole “i’ll call you lily when i’m mad at you” is still making me feel like shit.

“because it’s your legal name”

ok?

oh no i’m sorry i accidentally stepped on the strap of your fucking trapper keeper ffs

i feel unsafe around my own friends

he says it’s fucking hard to call me evan when the people i’ve known for YEARS (and family) switched over immediately

he kept saying i shouldn’t cut my hair because it looks good long

when i cut it the first time he said he missed it being long

when i said i would cut it shorter he said i shouldn’t

and when i did cut it

he was disappointed.

who is she /gen

it’s all i fucking hear

from people who know

i mean there’s a few people who’ve got it down but other than that

i’m still lily to them. i’m still a girl to them.

they don’t fucking believe me when i say this shit

people i used to consider friends are openly transphobic and i fucking hate it

i want to fucking curl up and die.

i feel so shitty at school all the fucking time because of course i had to tell my teachers. because of course i had to do that. ofc i had to cut my hair.

fucking reactions

i don’t even like that kid and when i showed up with shorter hair in december he was offended.

i can’t paint my nails anymore because i’m scared my mom will comment on it and i can’t express interest in makeup at all ever again because i’m scared my mom will comment on it i can’t complain about my hair being annoying bc i cant put it up because my mom HAS commented on it

i can’t take my deadname down because i’m scared she’ll have something to say.

she still sees me as her daughter. she’s outright said that.

she’ll never call me her son. she’ll never call me my sister’s brother.

i’m just evan.

crazy how i expected more support from her and ended up getting more from my dad.

but even then. he started treating me different. and i get it, they won’t fully understand it. they don’t fully get it, that’s ok, but ffs i’m the same kid i was three months ago.

i miss my friends. i want a hug from someone who doesn’t see me as a different person than before i came out

i hate this.

i wish i could just be a girl.

#vent #evan’s rambles #sorry #ignore this