#about how homophobia and transphobia can scar someone for life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

faggot-friday · 2 years

Text

E-Flat Major // Sophiana Week Day 2 (Sun & Moon)

Sophie Foster doesn't particularly like music, but they love Biana Vacker's music. And maybe, just maybe, they love the person playing Biana Vacker's music, as well. And maybe, just maybe, ae likes them as well.

trigger warnings: swearing, mentions of homophobia/transphobia, implied physical abuse (a line about Fitz's scars), sex mention (a teasing line from Biana when Sophie asks aer to come home with them) (lmk if you need anything else added)

a/n: just a couple of throwaway lines about the sun & moon, but this doesn't actually fit anywhere else so I'm just shoving it into day 2

word count: 5.3K

@sophianaweek2022

Read on ao3

......

Sophie couldn’t claim they particularly liked music, but they couldn’t deny that they loved aer music.

Biana Vacker was a pianist, and every Friday night, ae’d go to the park, set up under the pavilion, and play aer music for an hour and a half. And every Friday night, Sophie would hear the E-flat major scale, rush from their house to the park, and sit on the grass with their eyes closed as the music washed over them and the cup of coffee in their hand went cold.

And no one could act surprised that it was one of those Friday nights that Sophie fell in love.

……

Sophie lived with their sister Amy and their best friend Dex, but Amy was moving out soon to go to college. For biology, if they were remembering correctly. Which they probably weren’t. But that would mean Sophie would have to increase the hours of their job at McDonalds, and they might miss the Friday night performances. And they didn’t want that to happen.

It was seven fifty-five, and Sophie was making their coffee. They always did at that point, every night. The old machine was loud and clunky, so Sophie didn’t hear the footsteps behind them. They also didn’t hear the rain outside.

“Hey Soph,” Dex said, planting a kiss on Sophie’s cheek. They weren’t dating, but Amy often forgot that. So did all their other friends. It got annoying.

“Hey, Dexie,” Sophie said, slightly distracted. “I’m going to the park again tonight.”

Dex frowned. “Did you not hear?”

“I can’t hear jackshit over this machine,” Sophie said, slapping the side of the coffee machine, which let out an indignant clunk. “Hear what?”

“Biana made an Instagram post the other day, aer show’s been cancelled indefinitely.” Xe leaned back against the kitchen table and opened the curtains. Xe and Sophie watched the rain.

“Oh.” Sophie was surprised Dex heard them, considering how small their voice was.

“Yeah, sorry,” xe sighed.

“Do you know why?” Sophie said suddenly. “Ah, shit, sorry, I don’t wanna pry in aer life, but, did ae say anything?”

“Yeah, ae did, actually,” Dex said. Sophie almost dropped their coffee in surprise. “Ae said family issues, but that was it.”

Sophie nodded. They had… a lot of experience with family issues.

“Oh, Sophie, you’re still here,” Amy called from across the kitchen.

Speaking of family issues.

“Yeah, the show tonight was cancelled,” Sophie replied. “Don’t you have something on? A party?”

“I’m literally walking out the door right now, jackass,” Amy responded. “Hey Dex, chuck me a banana?”

Dex grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl on the table and launched it across the room. It bounced off Amy’s hands and landed on the floor. Amy picked it up and shrugged.

“You don’t eat the peel anyway,” she muttered. “See you when I get back!”

“Make sure you actually get back this time,” Sophie scolded, blocking out Dex’s confused questions of “you don’t eat the peel?”.

Amy poked her head back through the front door as she left, one of Sophie’s old jumpers covering her dress. “By the way, you have a visitor.” She wriggled her fingers in a wave and then stepped aside so someone who Sophie slightly recognised could come into the house.

“Hey Dex,” he said, wiping the rainwater off his face.

“Fitz?” Dex laughed. “Haven’t seen you since… middle school?”

“Something like that,” Fitz said. “Can I crash here for the night?”

“Who is that?” Sophie asked.

“Old friend,” Dex said shortly. “Can he stay?”

Sophie stared at xem. Xe expected them to let in a strange boy to live with them for who knows how long?

Sophie avoided Dex’s question with one of their own. “Why does he look so familiar?”

“I’m Fitzroy Vacker,” Fitz said, with a smile Sophie recognised instantly, a smile they had seen every Friday night, with a cup of cold coffee in their hands and music still ringing in their ears. “You probably know my sister.”

……

Sophie finished making the coffee and handed it to Fitz. “We have sugar in one of the cupboards if you need it. Dex is the only one who uses it though, so no one else is sure where it is.”

“I’ll manage without,” Fitz said. “Thanks.”

Sophie and Fitz had begun to warm up to each other, and Sophie hadn’t missed the fact that there was a very specific shade of blue, pink, and white on Fitz’s nails.

“So,” they said, as casually as possible, “any specific reason why Biana’s show was cancelled?”

Fitz nodded, wiping his mouth. “Family issues.”

“I know that much, but, like… specifically?”

“My dad found out I was trans. And then he started screaming like a fucking banshee.”

“Hate it when they do that,” Sophie nodded. Their grandparents had done the same thing.

“My brother just gave me the cold shoulder,” Fitz continued. “Used to that, though. My brother’s a dickhead.” He paused, taking another sip of coffee. “My mother was nice, though. And so was Biana. But ae got kicked as well.”

Sophie almost spat out their coffee. “Biana’s been kicked out of aer home?”

“Yeah,” Fitz said grimly. “I’m… not sure where ae went, though. The only reason I know, or suspect that it happened, is because of the post ae made. I’m sure you’ve seen it.”

Sophie didn’t actually have Instagram (they found most forms of social media to be a waste of time), but Dex filled them in whenever xe could.

“Should we figure out where ae is?” Sophie suggested.

Fitz shook his head, draining the rest of his coffee. “Dad smashed my phone, and I don’t have any other way to contact aer. One of you could, I guess. No guarantee ae’ll respond, though.”

“I can try,” Dex mused. “Soph doesn’t have Instagram.”

“Just DM aer,” Fitz suggested. “Ae has a track record of responding. But I’m not sure if ae actually has access to Insta or not.”

Dex pulled out xyr phone and started typing the message to bi.ana_vackaer. “Uh, I’ve said to meet us at the park where ae makes aer performances, and that aer brother is with us. And we have free coffee.”

“Biana hates coffee,” Fitz called from the sink.

Dex backspaced. “Free food, then.”

“You can always attract people with food,” Sophie said. “Does Biana like cheese sticks? Because my ex told me she was only with me for the cheese sticks, and it was only half a joke.”

“I’m only with you for the cheese sticks,” Dex added. Sophie elbowed xem.

“Are you two dating or something?” Fitz asked.

“No,” they replied in unison.

Fitz’s face showed something like relief before he turned away. “I see.”

That was kinda gay.

“Just press send before your phone goes flat,” Sophie said.

Dex pressed send. “My phone’s on 74%, Soph.”

“Social media drains your battery.”

“Sophie, you don’t have any social media.”

“Lies and slander. I have Facebook Messenger.”

“That’s only because Amy doesn’t have a SIM card.”

Sophie elbowed Dex again and rinsed their empty coffee cup. “Do you need me to show you around?”

“Or I can do it,” Dex interjected. “I’m a very good show-around person.”

Fitz laughed. “I’m sure Sophie can do it perfectly well.”

“I’m also sure I can,” Sophie agreed.

Dex pursed xyr lips. “I have doubts.”

“Well, today I’ll prove my true worth to you, Dexie,” Sophie declared, “and I shall successfully show Fitz around the house!”

“I believe in you,” Fitz said.

“At least someone does,” Sophie muttered, grabbing his wrist. “I’ll show you the bathroom first. Seems important.”

……

Sophie stared at the ceiling, listening to the relentless storm outside. They wanted to stare out the window, but they were too cold to move from the bed, which at least offered a shred of warmth.

They listened to Fitz’s quiet sobs from the bed on the other side of the room, and they wanted to reach over and hug him, but their arms weren’t long enough, and also, they would be cold. They felt a pang of guilt at their selfishness.

They wanted to help both of the Vackers, but they were already doing all they could for Fitz, and they couldn’t contact Biana any more than they already had. Dex had checked xyr phone before xe went off to bed, and ae hadn’t responded.

Sophie forced themself out of bed and to the bathroom, feeling their stomach lurch, but they only sat on the bathroom floor and trembled, partially from the cold, partially from something else. They imagined they were Amy. Amy had confidence, Amy had a way with words that they didn’t. What would Amy do?

Amy would look for Biana.

But Sophie wasn’t Amy, and Amy wasn’t looking for Biana. Amy was partying with her friends, probably drunk or high or whatever it was that appealed to teenage girls these days. They wouldn’t know. They had never been a part of Amy’s crowd, or whatever was similar. They were busy at the park every Friday.

Sophie swallowed the excess saliva in their mouth, pulled on a jumper, and ran barefoot out of the house.

……

The rain was even worse now, and they regretted not putting on shoes. Sophie wiped the water out of their eyes and somehow found their way to the pavilion. They collapsed against one of the poles and sank to the floor, swallowing saliva and bile and the lump that was settling in their throat.

“You doing alright there?” someone asked from beside them. They shrugged, not wanting to respond verbally to a stranger.

“Why are you in the rain?” the stranger persisted.

Sophie turned to them, a witty response already forming on their lips, but it died the moment they locked eyes.

Biana Vacker was sitting cross-legged beside them, aer curly hair plastered against aer round cheeks.

“Bit cold to be out, really,” ae continued with a smile that flashed the gap between aer front teeth. “I’d suggest going home. Unless you don’t have a home to go to, in which case, feel free to join me in homelessness.” Ae pulled out aer nose ring. “Do you think I can get money off this?”

“No, I mean, probably, but that’s not necessary,” Sophie blurted. “Uh, you could come home with me, if you wanted.”

“Honey, we don’t even know each other yet,” Biana sighed. “We’re just two strangers sitting here in the rain all angstily. Bit too early for sex.”

Sophie’s face went tomato red, which probably didn’t help their case. “I’m not talking about sex, I’m asking if you want to get out of this shitass weather.”

Biana stared at them.

“I have cheese sticks,” Sophie said, crossing their fingers behind their back. They really wanted to get Fitz and Biana back in the same house. “I also have your brother.”

“You had me at cheese sticks,” Biana admitted, standing up and holding out a hand to Sophie. “I’m Biana Vacker, although you probably figured that out already. Also, you know I have a brother, which is a little creepy. Who are you?”

Biana talked quite a lot, which didn’t fit in with the person Sophie saw every Friday night, whose mouth moved little but whose fingers glided across the keys of the piano. They took a deep breath and responded to each of aer statements, one at a time. “Yeah, I did know. I listen to you every Friday. You posted it on your Instagram. I’m Sophie Foster.”

“There’s a musician called Sophie Foster,” Biana mused. “Are you one and the same?”

Sophie shook their head. “Unless I have a secret identity that I don’t know about.”

Biana laughed, flashing the gap between aer teeth again. Sophie thought it was cute. “Yeah. It was a bit of a long shot. You do look similar, though. Maybe you really do have a secret identity that you don’t know about. And you sometimes, secretly, unknowingly, go to Australia for performances.”

“I don’t even have a passport, I don’t think I’ve been doing that,” Sophie laughed, taking Biana’s hand and letting aer pull them up. “Follow me.”

“In the rain?” ae said, disdain creeping into aer voice. “Couldn’t we wait here?”

“It’s cold,” Sophie argued, gently but firmly, “and you’re not wearing anything warm.”

“This is plenty warm enough,” Biana argued, pulling at aer soaked-through tank top. Sophie stared at it. They didn’t recognise the logo: a circle with two 7s in it. Or were they Fs?

“Your limbs are about as bare as they get,” Sophie sighed. “You’re going to freeze. I’m relatively warmer than you, so I’m more likely to survive without it. Here.” They slipped out of their jacket, which was wet but drier on the inside, and handed it to Biana.

“You’re not going to homoerotically drape it over my shoulders?” Biana teased, slipping into it. “Wow. This is comically large.” Ae held up aer hands and flopped around the length of sleeve that hung over aer hands.

“I’m just taller than you,” Sophie said. “Come on. We’ll run.”

“Race you,” Biana said with a smirk, and then ae took off running, the jacket flying behind aer like a cape. Sophie bolted after aer, bare feet sinking disgustingly in the mud hidden under the grass, and they almost tripped.

“Biana, wait! You don’t know where I live!” they shouted after aer. Ae stopped and turned around.

“Not yet, I don’t,” ae challenged. “Where do you live? I need to beat you there.”

“Just follow me,” Sophie said, grabbing aer wrist through the jacket and guiding them both, holding up their other arm to shield their eyes from the rain. They hoped they didn’t suddenly forget the way now. That would be… embarrassing, to say the least.

They stopped just outside the door, and Sophie pulled their key out from their pocket and tried to get it in the lock. Their hands were shaking from a combination of the cold and other things they couldn’t even begin to name.

“Your house is so cool,” Biana breathed, following Sophie through the door and running aer fingers across the cracks in the walls. “So much better than mine.”

“Surely your house is fancier than this,” Sophie said, trying to feel their way around the house without the lights on so they didn’t wake Dex and Fitz. “Your family is more well-off than three teenagers, only two of whom have jobs.”

“Yeah, but my house is full of bad memories that fill the corners with extra shadows and make every turn dull,” Biana said gravely. “Your house seems to glow more every step I take.”

“Are you always this descriptive?” Sophie teased.

“Something about you just drags it out of me.”

Sophie was glad it was dark and ae couldn’t see how much they were blushing at aer flirting.

Fitz’s silhouette was in the kitchen when Sophie glanced that way, and they figured it was safe enough to turn on the lights.

“Why are you drinking coffee at three in the morning?” Sophie asked.

“Why are you walking around in the rain at three in the morning?” Fitz retorted, his eyes sliding over Sophie’s head to the person behind them. “Biana?”

“Fitz!” Biana gasped, a smile breaking out on aer face. Ae ran into the kitchen and jumped into Fitz’s outstretched arms.

“Oh, God, I was so worried,” Fitz whispered, putting Biana on the ground and burying his face into the curve of aer neck. “I thought you’d die out there.”

“I thought we’d both die,” ae murmured. “Ugh, I am so tired.”

“We only have the three beds,” Sophie said, mostly to Fitz.

“I can share with Dex,” Fitz suggested. Sophie hid a smirk and his obvious gaydom.

“Dex is asleep. I’ll just take the couch. You two should need your own bed.”

“We can share,” Biana said, gesturing between aer and Fitz. “It’s fine.”

“No, you’re guests, I can’t make you do that.”

“Why don’t you two share,” Fitz suggested, “and I’ll share with Dex. In case your sister comes back.”

Sophie had forgotten about Amy. “When did she say she was coming back?”

“No idea,” Biana said, wiping a combination of rainwater and tears off aer cheeks. “I wasn’t here.”

“Thanks for your input,” Sophie said dryly, casting their mind back to the evening, when Amy left. “I don’t think she said anything, but I also don’t think she’ll be back before morning.”

“You never know,” Fitz said.

“You just want to share a bed with Dex.”

Fitz’s face went red. “How’d you guess?”

Sophie sighed. “Look, I really don’t think you should be sharing with Dex while xe’s asleep. That’s a breach of xyr boundaries.”

Fitz pouted. “But I’m gayyy. This is homophobic.”

“And it would be very cute of you two to do that, but it’s my duty as xyr best friend to make sure that everyone respects xyr boundaries.”

“Sorry, Fitzy,” Biana said, hiding aer smirk. “You can be gay in the morning, when Dex is awake.”

“Speaking of being gay in the morning, we can’t be gay on no sleep,” Sophie said. “Fitz, put the coffee down. We need to get to bed.”

“Yeah, but which bed?” Fitz said, placing the mug on the kitchen table. Sophie glanced at it. It was still full.

“You can just stay in Amy’s,” they sighed, “and Biana can share with me.” Their brain caught up with their mouth and they blushed. “If ae’s cool with that.”

“Don’t see why not,” Biana shrugged. “Where’s your bedroom?”

“We only have the one,” Sophie said, jerking one shoulder as an indication to follow them. “I did say we weren’t all that well-off.”

“I don’t like what you’re implying,” Biana laughed. “I think your home is beautiful.”

Sophie smiled. “Do you sleep on the left or the right side of the bed?”

“I’ve never shared a bed before,” Biana mused. “Well, I have, but I can’t remember it well enough to answer.”

“It’s not about whether you have or haven’t,” they replied, “it’s about the vibes. Imagine you’re sharing with Fitz again. Which side would you make sure you’re on?”

“Is it really that important? I’ll just go on whichever side.”

“It sets the foundations for the rest of your life, Biana. It’s very important.”

“Which side do you sleep on?”

Sophie didn’t even have to think about it. “Right.”

Biana pursed aer lips. “I sleep on the left.”

“How convenient,” Sophie said with a smile, not even thinking about what ae was implying. “My bed’s the one in the middle.” They pointed to it. Biana clambered in without a second thought, sitting on the left side.

“Comfortable,” ae said. “Also, fair warning, I’m a cuddler.”

Sophie bit their lip to hide their smile. “Oh, no, how will I ever manage?”

Biana grinned. “I’m going to assume that was sarcasm.”

“It was.” Sophie climbed in next to aer and snuggled into aer chest. “You’re very warm.”

“God, you’re freezing,” ae responded.

“It’s because of my cold, dead heart.” It was meant to sound dramatic, but their voice was muffled by Biana’s arms wrapped around them. And when ae laughed, they thought they’d never heard anything more beautiful.

They slept more soundly that night than they ever had before.

……

Biana dumped the bags of food on the kitchen table, and Amy moved her phone out of the way with a yelp.

“Watch where you drop your shit!” she said.

“Sorry,” Biana said, not sounding at all sorry. “Oh, by the way, Sophie, Fitz and I are leaving tomorrow.”

“You told me yesterday,” Sophie frowned.

“Just figured I’d remind you.”

Sophie nodded and watched Biana’s retreating back. They put down their coffee next to the groceries and mumbled something to Amy about going to the bathroom.

Sophie ran into the bathroom and slammed the door behind them without checking who was in it beforehand. They slid to the floor and buried their face in their hands.

“Uh, Soph?” Dex said, and Sophie looked up to see Fitz and Dex intertwined on the floor, Fitz burying his bright-red face into Dex’s shoulder. “Could you possibly watch where you’re going?”

“Why are you two making out in my bathroom,” Sophie asked flatly.

“It’s my bathroom too,” Dex protested. “I can make out with whoever I want in it.”

“Well, I need to talk to you,” Sophie said. “Without your boyfriend eavesdropping.”

“Homophobia,” Fitz muttered, standing up and walking out.

“Put a shirt on before Amy tries to seduce you!” Sophie called.

“You think Amy would try and seduce this?” Fitz scoffed, gesturing towards the scars across his chest. Sophie could place some of them — top surgery, cat scratches, and Fitz told them about the one he got falling down the stairs — but others they didn’t recognise. Had that been left by his family? “I mean, come on. I’m scrawny as fuck.”

“Amy would seduce anything,” Sophie replied, at the same time Dex said “Amy and I have similar tastes, I’m sure she finds you hot.”

Fitz blushed, smiled, and closed the door behind him.

“You and Amy have the same taste in music, not men,” Sophie said. “Amy likes, and I quote, ‘bad boys’.”

“Fitz is absolutely a ‘bad boy’.” Dex’s exaggerated air quotes threw off the effect.

“Fitz is a nerd,” Sophie retaliated. “But I’m not here to criticise your taste in men. I’m here because I have a crisis.” They flopped on the floor and gazed up at Dex’s freckly face.

“What kind of crisis?” Dex asked, flopping down next to them. “Mid-life? Economical?”

“A gay crisis.”

“The best kind.”

“No Dex! The worst kind!” Sophie moaned, covering their face with their hands. “I think I like Biana.”

“I like Biana too.”

“Romantically, Dex! I like aer romantically!”

Dex laughed. “Yeah, I guessed.”

“I’m a gay mess and I don’t know what to doooooooooo.”

“Tell aer you like aer?”

Sophie sat up and crossed their arms and legs. “I’m a gay mess, I’m not legally allowed to do that.”

“If I can fess up to Fitzy, then you can fess up to Biana.”

“I’m going to revoke your gay mess privileges.”

Dex inhaled sharply. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Ohoho, trust me, Dexter, I would very much dare.”

Dex leaned against the cupboard under the sink and sighed. “Alright, you don’t have to tell Biana. But do tell aer one thing.”

Sophie frowned. “What?”

“You know the old piano we never use?”

……

“Hey, Bee?”

Biana looked up from aer phone and smirked. “Bee?”

Sophie’s face went bright red. “Sorry, nicknames are automatic for me.”

“Well, if you get to give me a cutesy nickname, then I get to give one to you.” Biana leaned forward and pursed aer lips. Sophie forced themself not to look at them. “Hmm.”

“Oh, please no. I don’t want a repeat of my parents’ nicknames.”

“What nickname did your parents give you?”

“Soybean.” It slipped out before Sophie could stop it.

“Oh, that’s adorable. I’m using that.” Biana grinned, and Sophie took the moment of pure joy on aer face to memorise every detail, from the beauty spot just under aer nose, to the pimples across aer cheeks, to the patches on aer neck, shoulders, and face from aer vitiligo, to the scar on aer left temple that ae got when ae fell out of a tree ae was climbing, and everything in between.

Yep. It was a gay crisis, alright. Sophie was irreversibly, irreparably, in homoerotic love with Biana Vacker.

Fuck.

“Anyway, Soybean,” Biana said, aer grin fading slightly. “What was it you wanted to tell me?”

“I’m so gay,” Sophie blurted. “Uh, also, if you still want to do your performance in the park tonight, we have an old piano that Dex’s parents gave to us.”

“I’m also extremely gay,” Biana said, a quick laugh blurring aer confused frown. Sophie didn’t miss the way aer cheeks reddened slightly. “And that would be wonderful, thank you so much. I’ll play you something special.”

Sophie’s face went bright red. “No, there’s no need—”

“There’s every need, Soybean. I won’t mention you by name, if that’s the problem.” Biana frowned in thought. “Maybe I’ll say it’s for my soybean.”

Aer soybean. Sophie was so, so gay.

They figured it was useless arguing, so they enlisted the help of Dex and Amy, the two strongest in the house, to help Biana carry the piano to the pavilion. It was lucky the weather had improved over the week, and it had started acting like summer.

“Do you have a microphone somewhere?” Biana asked.

“Um, I think Amy has something somewhere, from her comedian days,” Sophie said. “Fitz, help me look.”

“Sure,” Fitz said, putting down his coffee and following Sophie. “Where would it be?”

Sophie grabbed Fitz’s arms to stop him and stared wildly into his eyes. “I’m in love with Biana.”

Fitz stared at them for a long time. “Congrats? I’m much better, IMO, but you do you, I guess. Well, actually, you do Biana, technically. Now, about that microphone—”

“No, you don’t understand,” Sophie moaned. “I’m a gay diaster, Fitzy. I’m in love with someone who won’t love me back.”

Fitz rolled his eyes. “This is basically the plot of a poorly edited fanfic. Sophie, haven’t you seen the way Biana looks at you when you’re not looking?” He mulled over the sentence as Sophie stared at him blankly. “No, of course you haven’t seen aer, you’re not looking. Well, ae stares at you like you’re the moon.”

“Isn’t the expression, stares at them like they’re the sun?”

Fitz shook his head. “Well, it is, but ae doesn’t stare at you like the sun. Ae looks at you like you’re the most beautiful, amazing, wonderful thing ae’s ever seen. Amy looks at you like you’re the sun. Kind of a weird, angry squint.”

Sophie laughed. “Well, maybe Biana can be the sun to my moon, then.”

“Averaging 150 million kilometres away from you?”

“What? No.” Sophie smiled, thinking of the way Biana and Sophie’s expressions were the same, but neither were looking at each other at the right moment. “I need aer to let me shine.”

“Ah, so you’re poetic and sappy,” Fitz said with a smirk.

“How did Dex fall for you?” Sophie said, only half serious.

“Because I’m extremely attractive. But xe first kissed me when I was spouting random science facts as a way of flirting. I pushed it over the line when I said I had 83 protons. Xe just laughed and said ‘Fitz?’ and I said ‘yeah?’ and xe said ‘I get it, you’re gay for me’ and then xe kissed me.”

Sophie was aghast. “Oh, God, I hope that doesn’t happen with me and Biana.”

Fitz smiled ruefully. “You never know.” He jerked his head behind Sophie. “Now, about that microphone?”

……

Sophie pulled Biana aside five minutes before aer performance to give ae the microphone.

“Its batteries are fully charged,” Sophie said.

“Thanks,” Biana said with a grin. “By the way, is there anything you want me to play for you in particular? Preferably something you’ve heard me play before, but I’m not fussy. As long as I can play it.”

Sophie smiled. “The only thing that stands out to me is the scale you play the moment my kitchen clock hits 8:01, and when the clock on my watch shows 8:00:37.”

“The E-flat major scale?” Biana said, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Yep.”

Biana smiled. “I’ll play you a song in that key, alright?”

Sophie nodded, and Biana rushed out the front door so ae wouldn’t be late.

……

Sophie sat sandwiched between Dex and Amy, waving their hand in Fitz’s face to shut him up. He was ranting about something to Dex.

“Ae’s starting,” they hissed, and the whispers that spread across the park were dampened.

Sophie checked their watch, and right on time at 8:00:37pm, Biana played the E-flat major scale. Sophie gripped their coffee tighter, feeling the hot liquid scald their hands, and let the music wash over them.

But the music ended there, and Biana cleared aer throat and began to speak into Amy’s microphone.

“I promised my Soybean I’d play them a song, as a thanks for lending me this.” Ae tapped the side of the piano. “But it’s more than a thanks. It’s a way of telling them all the things I’m too afraid to say with words.” Biana’s eyes met Sophie’s, and aer expression was exactly as Fitz had described. Then ae looked away again and readied aerself with the music.

Sophie didn’t recognise the song, but Amy did. She gasped, and elbowed Sophie.

“Do you know it?” she hissed. Sophie shook their head, and then they heard it.

Treasure by Bruno Mars. On piano.

Amy murmured the lyrics along with Biana’s playing, and it was then that Sophie realised what Biana was trying to say. It was the same thing that Sophie had been worried about for the past week.

Biana Vacker was in love with Sophie Foster.

……

Biana didn’t speak to Sophie until they cornered aer in the bathroom after the piano was put away.

“Didn’t know you listened to Bruno Mars,” they said.

Biana shrugged. “I had a phase. Are you familiar with the song?”

“Amy also had a phase.”

Biana laughed. “So you got the message, then? I spent a while thinking about a song that I could do, but none seemed right, but then you mentioned the E-flat major scale, and it just clicked in my mind—”

“Biana?”

“Yeah?”

Sophie could practically hear Fitz’s cackling. “I get it, you’re gay for me.”

And then they kissed aer.

It was… alright. Sophie had only kissed one person before, and it was Dex, and that one was terrible. Biana was a good kisser, though, so that made up for it. Sophie’s knees gave out, though, and they were forced to break apart.

“Ah shit,” Sophie said from the floor. “Sorry. I’m a gay mess.”

Biana laughed and helped Sophie up.

“And I’m also a bad kisser,” Sophie said, wiping Biana’s lipstick off their cheek.

“You’re not that bad,” Biana said, although Sophie could tell ae was lying. “Besides, we can always get practice in.”

And they kissed aer again, and it was a little better this time, and the mood was only dampened by the fact that Amy walked in and shouted “GO BE GAY SOMEWHERE ELSE, I NEED TO SHOWER”.

……

Music had always been a part of Biana’s life. From when ae was a baby and aer brothers sang aer to sleep, to aer choir in elementary school, to humming as ae tiptoed through the halls, wanting to be quiet but unable to stay completely silent without imagining monstrous things filling the empty space that ae’s music filled.

Ae’s performances were somewhat of a ritual to aer; a bridge between aer family and aerself, a way to keep the two separated but still intertwined.

Sophie Foster had been going to the performances for as long as ae had been doing them, and ae had always looked up after the scale to see them sitting there with their coffee, brown eyes wide with wonder, waiting patiently but eagerly for the music to pick up again. Biana told aerself that ae went to the park every Friday to play music, and that was true, but ae also went to the park to see Sophie sitting there, knowing ae had made someone that happy with aer music that they’d visit aer every single time ae played.

It came as no surprise to everyone that Biana fell in love with the coffee-addicted, brown-eyed nerd at the park.

#sophiana week 2022 #sophiana #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #detz

16 notes · View notes

zabe-books · 2 years

Text

Queer Joy

“We’re looking for stories about queer joy. Joyous queers. Happy queer stories. No homophobia/transphobia. Happy endings.”

“We want authentic queer narratives.”

When my mother explained to me what being gay was, she bent and whispered it in my ear, so no one else in the house would hear her say it. I was eight. I remember thinking that doesn’t sound so bad but everyone–my classmates, my church, my family–was convinced. My father caught me reading a story someone wrote about their lesbian characters in the Sims 2 and installed a parental controls module on the computer.

Two years later, I had a crush on the captain of the girls’ soccer team, and I was horrified with myself. I vowed to never tell anyone, to keep it a secret from everyone I knew until my dying day. I was eleven and I thought I would be tortured in hell for all eternity because I liked how shiny another girl’s hair looked in her ponytail.

I spent my childhood in a state of terror that still haunts me. Not to sound dramatic–most queer people do. You grow up. You do the work of putting yourself back together.

And then you tell your story.

One of my most profound moments of queer joy: I’m a few weeks from graduating college. Me and a group of trans friends I’ll be parting from set up a kiddie pool on the dorm lawn at 3AM. We float in the water and sing hymns from the churches that rejected us. The next day, we’ll go back to the hometowns we’re not safe in and build ourselves some lives from toothpicks. It’s the Last Supper and a baptism all in one. God is in the water.

Queer joy. We want queer joy. I hear it over and over in publishing circles. We want queer joy. But I have never experienced any kind of ‘queer joy’ that hasn’t been touched–or given meaning–by the circumstances that marginalize queer folk to begin with. A bawdy joke in a bowling alley. The celebration when a friend leaves an unsafe household. The invisible language of touch in a gay bar saying things you cannot safely share out loud.

There is joy and then there is queer joy. To me, queer joy is rooted in overcoming oppression, in dodging a gender norm, in seeking love and community against the odds. Queer joy is not permitted. It’s something illegal, taboo, something that must be stolen. I can write a queer person experiencing joy at finding a nice pair of shoes on sale. But to explore why that joy is queer, I need to hold in my head the laws and customs that deny us the right to self-expression, the consequences and complications and the intersections that go into something as simple as planning an outfit for a night on the town. Other authors may not, but I do.

When I turn to queer literature, I look for stories about navigating the complexities of queerness–how you can belong in one moment and be banished in the next, how you can be hyper-visible and invisible all at once. I look for queer depression, queer anxiety, queer trauma–for queer characters who bear the scars of living in an unfriendly society and yet move forward. Other people want to read about people without trauma falling in love and expressing their gender how they please in magical worlds without homophobia and this is their right. But unless we invent a time machine and I can drag Baby Me to a kinder, safer era (whenever that may be)–queer joy with no homophobia is as alien to my authentic lived personal queer experience as life on the moon. And to build a literary canon that represents queer life, we need to keep the doors open for stories about pain.

#queer #queerness #writing #books #publishing #queer joy #homophobia #transphobia #storytelling #writer

6 notes · View notes

justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms · 2 years

Note

Hello again, this is my info for the match-up exchange for Genshin impact and Legend of Zelda.

Name: Baguette

Pronouns: They/them

sexuality: pansexual

zodiac: Aquarius (Jan 25)

personality: Calm but with have surges of energy, trust issues, Im an omnivert(more intorvert), im a lot more open to close friends and people I trust, socialy awkward, i can be calm and collective when i want to.

Likes: butterflies, nature walks, jellyfish, horror movies, anime/manga, Fantasy,mushrooms(not the drug), frogs, Music(mostly emo/grunge/punk type), writing, art, flowers, and antiques.

dislikes: clingy people, any phobia that makes you look like an asshole(transphobia, homophobia, etc), red meats, contry music, the color pink, vomite, needles and very lound noises.

Appearence: i have blonde, shoulder length hair, with green/hazel eyes(not hotorochromia), i have a broad shoulders, im pale vanilla skin tone, dark circles under eyes, i have a grunge aesthetic, and i have scars on my shoulders and back.

Have a good day/night/morning/night

Hi Baguette! Thank you so much for the ask! Hopefully I’ve done an okay job with my first match up. Let’s get into it!

In Genshin Impact I match you with...

This puppy boy will be able to match your bursts of energy but will also enjoy those calm moments. He’s also super loyal so I can see that being good for your trust issues.

Loves sitting and watching you do art as long as your okay with it. If you prefer being alone while working, he will give you space.

He's pretty busy with leading the rebellion so he can't always spend a lot of time with you but those moments he can be with you are ones he treasures.

Gorou loves taking nature walks with you.

He finds it relaxing, stepping away from his duties.

Also, we've all seen his idle animation where he goes to chase the butterfly so clearly you both share a fondness for this creature.

The army loves you two as a couple and you've become quite well known amongst the soldiers.

I can also see you relaxing by tracing each other's scars (if you're comfortable with that). Gorou will always place soft kisses along the scars to show you how much he loves every part of you.

In Legend of Zelda I match you with...

This may be a strange one but hear me out.

(To clarify, I'm thinking of Impa from Ocarina of Time.)

We've all seen how loyal Impa is to Zelda and, despite the fact that she may put her job as a protector of the royal family first, Impa will always make time for you.

Zelda is so happy that Impa has someone in her life and loves talking to you about anything and everything.

Impa also enjoys relaxing with you while you do art or write. I can see Impa enjoying writing as well so dates where you two just sit next to each other and write would be common.

When you have your surges of energy, Impa would be more that happy to walk with you or spar with you (she's always very careful not to hurt you though).

I hope you like your match ups and have a nice rest of your day.

#genshin impact #gorou #legend of zelda #impa #match up

6 notes · View notes

sonsofdoom · 4 years

Note

All muses: 12) what are your muse’s feelings towards stereotypes relating to their identity? do they affect their self-image, or how they perceive others?

THIS GOT LONG SO I WILL PUT THE REPLIES UNDER A CUT!!

I would like to note that NONE of them are ashamed of who they are or what they are - Quite the opposite. I am of the STRONG belief that Fëanor and Nerdanel both almost violently encouraged them and supported them in being themselves. Their happiness was what mattered, and so the possible stigma that can come with being raised in a certain way doesn’t apply to them.

I would also like to mention why some are labelled as Bi and some are labelled as Pan. This does NOT have to do with the misconception of “hurr durr bi people aren’t attracted to transpeople” (fuck off), but rather with how THEY would reply if asked. There might not be an objective difference, so to speak, but the subjective difference of which label someone prefers is important, and so this just happened? Also - The Homosexual label doesn’t exclude transpeople either.

Slight CW for cultural homophobia and transphobia.

Maedhros (CisHomo):

As the oldest son of the crown prince there was a lot of pressure on him to marry an elleth and start a family. Not from his own parents, but by society, and he’s a politician. He had never questioned his lack of attraction to ellyth before he got immersed with the politics of the capital, and he swiftly learned that loving males as a male was something that was done behind closed doors. He hates the stereotypes forced on him, but as the politician and diplomat that he is, he tries to mask it. He does, however, actively work to make it more accepted for those less fortunate than he.

Maglor (CisBi Polyamorous):

Maglor has never truly had any issues with his identity, stereotypes, nor the pressure of society. As a bard and ministrel, he’s of course known to be a flirt and tease and a lover of women. He bedded and flirted enough with females that nobody would ever suspect the things he did with people of other genders in the dark.

Celegorm (FtM Pan Polyamorous):

Celegorm had the greatest stigma from society to deal with. Suddenly prince Fëanàro didn’t have a daughter to marry away, but rather a third son, which was seen as quite the scandal. Especially seeing how at home he was in the wilds. The expectation of dresses, fine silks and more commonly feminine traits were suddenly to be pushed to the side, and the many nobles that had wanted to court Fëanor’s “daughter” suddenly had no one to court. This had never happened openly before, but it DID raise some hope and give strength to those in hiding in Tirion.

He never liked cities or crowds or politics the way his older brothers did - But amongst Oromë and his maiar - in the wild - No one would question the scars under his pectorals or how he sometimes bled more than other men his age.

He does have some slight issues with being dominated during sex because of it. He doesn’t mind any form of penetration, but rather the subjucation and “femininity” that some expect from him when they see what he has between his legs.

Caranthir (CisPan Polyamorous):

As the “ugly” brother, he rarely had to deal with such things. He seldom headed out to actually try to court anyone, even though he had several little crushes in his life. He was the one to take up the more “feminine” hobby of embroidery and sewing, as well as sorting things and cleaning (yes he had the cleanest, tidiest room in their house - don’t @ me).

When faced with stereotypes, or rather if someone teased him or his brothers about their romantic interests or genders - He would be the first to throw punches. And kicks. He can’t change what you think, but he can remodel your face if you speak ill of his wild brother, or if you look down on Nelyo for never turning an eye to maidens, and so that is what he does.

Curufin (CisBi):

Is actually rarely affected by any form of stigma concerning his sexuality, and is “lucky” enough to be able to carry on the family line for his father. He is a very “manly” male, he has a son, he works as a black/jewel smith.... Yeah there are no common things that society could criticize him on.

Now his off-standish personality and how simillar he is to his father is another point entierly, but it has nothing to do with his sexuality, romanticality or gender.

Celebrimbor (CisHomo):

Constantly has to fight against the stigma of his family and father rather than his sexuality. People seem to just assume that his lack of romantic interest comes from him being shy and timid, and he prefers it that way.

1 note · View note

mycroftrh · 5 years

Text

you are not disgusting.

(Warning for discussion of verbal/emotional abuse, transphobia, fatphobia, homophobia.)

My mother’s four favorite words for me were evil, vile, disgusting, and bitch, and the one of those that she saw as worst was disgusting. She thought I was physically disgusting, that my thoughts were disgusting, that my actions were disgusting.

When I started to realise I wasn’t straight, I realised that all those people saying “I’m okay with gay people, but gay sex is disgusting” were talking about me.

When I was just beginning to transition, and all I’d done was cut my hair and stop shaving, my grandmother told me I - my legs, my arms - were disgusting. All I’d done was not shave for a couple weeks, I’d barely started to transition, and already, it made me disgusting.

I saw more things about trans people in media, news, online, and saw how many people thought we were all disgusting; sexual perverts, many of them thought, but even “allies” were talking about our bodies, thought they were disgusting.

I knew by that time that I had unusual sexual tastes, and I knew how many people thought that was disgusting.

I finally started on testosterone, and on some other medication, and got fat, because meds can do that - and wow, it’s amazing how completely normal it is to think fat people are disgusting, to portray us with “disgusting” traits emphasized (with food all over our bodies, farting and belching).

On testosterone I grew weird facial hair - my body went until I was 23 before it started getting the proper amount of hormones; it was confused. Hair started coming in under my chin, on my neck only. I didn’t shave it because it’s a lot harder for people to read you as female if you have facial hair, even if it’s not on your actual face. And I saw all these cartoons and memes and jokes (and genuine, sincere hate) about “neckbeards”, people who were both physically and morally disgusting, and their facial hair - the hair that I had (have) - was so tied into that disgust they were named after it.

This is by no means all of this I have experienced. I’m not even getting into severe mental illness and how people react to some of its symptoms, or into other disabilities, or into being intersex.

I’ve been told I’m disgusting my whole life. By family, by the news, by fiction, by liberals and conservatives, by cis people and trans people, by gay people and straight people. There are so many ways to be disgusting that I don’t think anyone in the world isn’t “disgusting” to someone.

But I’m here to tell you:

you are not disgusting.

For who you love, who you are, how you look. You’re not disgusting for being fat, or being queer, or being trans, or being not white. You’re not disgusting for your body and you’re not disgusting for your mind. The thoughts that you think are revolting? People have those thoughts and it’s okay. Your scars and your rolls and your skin? There’s nothing wrong with them. Disgust is a human reaction, it’s hard-wired in, and without the disease and rotten food that’s meant to set it off it’s going off all over other humans. But that says nothing about you. I’m not going to tell you that “you’re beautiful inside and out” because you know what? You don’t have to be. It’s okay not to be beautiful, and that doesn’t make you disgusting.

(Incidentally, here is an interesting article about the evolution of disgust, including a paragraph about how disgust is often used as a social tool against those lowest in the hierarchy.)

#misc #mine

25 notes · View notes

angerofangels · 5 years

Text

everyones a sleep so im gonna say some Shit. I feel like a lot of the exclusionary movements on here relate to the philosophical problem of evil where people ask why is there so much suffering if god is good. The way some trans people take to truscum memes is just so disheartening but I think its because they want their dysphoria to have some sort of deeper meaning, they want to be rewarded for it with trans pride and those who dont have it havent suffered enough. They cant reconcile the idea that their suffering doesnt have meaning or purpose. But thats...how it is. Same goes for people who define lgbtness by homophobia. Like transphobia, homophobia, these things exist and are defined by the straight and cis.....why would they want their community to be defined by people outside of it. I think its because they want to feel special about their suffering instead of just.....recognizing that suffering is just bad and if someone didnt experience that particular flavor of suffering that doesnt mean you have to be mad at them, hate them worse than you hate your actual opressors. You can just grow the hell up and hope that going forward fewer and fewer people will have to suffer what youve suffered. You should be able to be lgbt with minimal suffering I mean for gods sake isnt that the goal? If a trans person doesnt experience what theyd call dysphoria? Good for them! And suffering int an on off switch. Maybe dysphoria for someone is just discomfort with pronouns, for someone else its their chest, for someone else its so bad that theyre suicidal. You shouldnt have to get to that point in order to be accepted. Life isnt a suffering competition and neither is life as an lgbt person. Kicking people out who don't suffer like you do will not ease your suffering in the long run. Non-dysphorics, hetero aces, hetero trans people, NONE of these people are the ones hurting you. Pride is a feeling of happiness for who you are and we all deserve to feel that, no matter how scarred we are or are not

#you should never define yourself or others by pain. no one deserves to suffer. you dont deserve to suffer #long post

2 notes · View notes

raeofgayshine · 6 years

Text

I’m Only Human

Roman spends his life putting on an act, but you can only pretend to be okay for so long before you break.

Read it on AO3.

Warnings: Self-esteem issues, dysphoria, mentioned/implied transphobia, homophobia, conversion therapy

Part of this fic includes chat, so for reference: Logan is Disaster-Gay Virgil is panic-at-the-everywhere Patton is Ace-Of-Cakes Roman is Romano-Cheesy

Roman Prince was first and foremost, an actor: On stage and off. He performed in dozens of shows from the time he was little, all the way up until the end of 10th grade, when he got outed by someone he thought was a friend as trans, and backlash from the student body and their parents kept him from ever being able to safely step onto the stage again. Offstage well... his whole life off stage was an act, wasn’t it? Pretending for years upon years to be the perfect daughter his parents thought him to be, acting like their rejection of him for being trans didn’t hurt him, that he wasn’t slowly breaking under the scrutiny of dozens of doctors and therapist who tried to convince him there was something wrong, like the weeks spent at conversion camp when he was 17 didn’t drive him so close to the edge that the only way for him to stay alive was by running away.

It had been a mistake. Running away had shown his parents a weakness, and when Roman came home they had made it clear: either he would start acting like the daughter they expected him to be, or they would send him somewhere worse that he couldn’t escape. Every day spent pretending only broke Roman a little more, but he learned very quickly not to show. He could fake a smile, force a laugh, play the part of the perfect daughter his parents expected. It wasn’t like he had a choice anyway, not as long as he was living with them.

As soon as he turned 18, Roman took his things and walked away from his parent's house for the last time, leaving behind everything he had pretended to be for so long, all of the hate and the pain and the fear that had defined his life in the past two years. He moved into his college apartment early and made friends with his soon to be roommates over text and tried so desperately to forget everything that had happened before that moment.

Roman was sure that if pretended for long enough that he had moved on, that maybe... maybe one day he would finally be able to. He knew that it didn’t work that way, that you don’t get over trauma like what he had faced in a matter of weeks, and scars don’t heal if you only ignore them, but even if he had wanted to Roman wasn’t entirely sure he could bring himself to talk about what happened.

The last time he had let someone see him weak, see him vulnerable, was when his mom found him on the side of the road after he had run away from that hell. He broke down in tears as he begged her not to send him back, promised to do anything to just get away from there, and she had taken advantage of how broken he was by forcing him back into a lifestyle that only made him hate himself more and more every day.

Roman had sworn to himself he would never let anyone see him weak again after that moment. He would keep on pretending that everything was okay, that he was invincible, put together, that nothing in this world could hurt him and like he hadn’t been shattered into something almost unrecognizable by his past.

The thing is though, when you try to pretend like everything was okay, it only leads to a bigger fallout when you finally broke completely.

The cracks in Roman’s mask had been spreading ever since he left home, ever since he had started talking to his roommates and the four of them grew quickly into a tight-knit group of friends even though they had only ever texted each other (except for Virgil and Patton, who had met while on vacation and found out they only lived a few hours apart, meaning they got together quite frequently).

Every time they talked, Roman found it was harder and harder to just keep pretending like everything was okay. The others were always so honest, so open with their feelings, their struggles, and Roman felt guilty every time he dodged a question about his past, or lied and said he was doing great even on the days he hated himself so much he almost didn’t want to exist.

It hurt to lie to them, but faced with the alternative Roman wasn’t sure he could stomach telling them the truth. Even if they didn’t use his own vulnerability to their advantage, he was sure they would walk away as soon as they realized that he was broken beyond any hope. Roman couldn’t bear the thought of losing them, not when Patton, Virgil, and Logan had become the first good thing Roman had had in years. They were the only thing that kept him going some days, and he was terrified of what might happen when they were gone.

Roman knew one day that the mask was going to shatter completely and the others would finally see who he truly was and there was nothing he would be able to do to stop it, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to put it off as long as possible.

When it finally did happen, it wasn’t at all how Roman had expected it to go.

It started when Logan had sent his daily reminder to all of them that move was in exactly 8 days (well, more or less anyway), along with his list of other daily reminders he had started sending out since the four of them had started talking. It had already been a bad day for Roman (and it had hardly even begun). Nightmares had kept him from getting much sleep before he had to get up for work, and then just as he was about to leave his boss had called and told him to come in a few hours later than normal because she needed him to cover for one of their afternoon waitresses for a few hours, meaning he had gotten up at 6 am for absolutely nothing. Then there was just the regular stress from the fact that classes were starting soon and he needed to make sure the apartment was spotless before the others moved in, all on top of his normal stress of trying to keep up his act that everything was okay despite the fact it was getting harder and harder to pretend with each passing day.

So Roman wasn’t feeling the greatest when the conversation started. He should have realized then that it was only going to get worse from there. If he had, maybe he would have been able to stop the mask from crumbling completely.

.....

Ace-of-Cakes: I can’t believe we’re actually going to meet in just over a week! I can’t wait to see all of you a wrap you in a big ol’ Pattoned Patton hug

Disaster-Gay: Was that... a self-referential pun?

Ace-of-Cakes: Mayyyybee

Disaster-Gay: You need to stop

panic-at-the-everywhere: if you think its bad now lo just wait until you meet him

Romano-Cheesy: I still think it’s unfair that you got to meet Patton first

panic-at-the-everywhere: why is that Princey

Romano-Cheesy: because there’s no possible way you could appreciate his hugs as much as me

Romano-Cheesy: so the fact you got to have one first is really really unfair

panic-at-the-everywhere: jealous?

Romano-Cheesy: Of an emo nightmare like you? As if.

Ace-Of-Cakes: Now kiddos, there’s no need to fight. There’s plenty of Patton hugs for everyone to share.

panic-at-the-everywhere: what if i don’t want to share

Ace-Of-Cakes: Virgil! I am surprised at you!

panic-at-the-everywhere: still?

Disaster-Gay: I really don’t see what all the fuss is about. It is just a hug.

Romano-Cheesy: just a hug?

Romano-Cheesy: juST A hUG?!

Disaster-Gay: That is what I said, yes.

Romano-Cheesy: It is not JUST a hug, Logan! It is so much more than that.

Ace-Of-Cakes: Yeah, it’s a Pattoned Patton Hug, they’re special!

panic-at-the-everywhere: it really is

Romano-Cheesy: Besides, it’s going to be the first time we meet. Isn’t that exciting at all to you, Logan?

Disaster-Gay: I suppose, but haven’t we technically already met considering we have been talking for the past weeks?

Romano-Cheesy: That’s not the same! We haven’t met in person, we haven’t seen each other's faces, heck we haven’t even heard each other's voices yet!

Romano-Cheesy: It’s like we practically don’t even know each other!

panic-at-the-everywhere: i dont know i think i have a pretty good idea what you sound like princey

panic-at-the-everywhere: annoying and loud

Roman inhaled sharply as soon as he read Virgil’s message, a stabbing pain shooting through his heart at the words, which cut far deeper than was surely intended. Virgil’s only joking, Roman reminded himself, blinking back the tears that had filled his eyes as he tried to convince himself that was the truth. It was only a joke. But then if that was the case, why did it seem to hurt so much more?

Roman shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts, taking a deep breath, his well-practiced mask slipping back into place as he slowly released it. He was fine. Virgil had only been joking, and besides even if he wasn’t his words didn’t bother Roman at all.

Once he was sure he was composed again, he turned back to the conversation that had continued on without him.

Ace-Of-Cakes: Now kiddo that isn’t a very nice thing to say. I’m sure Roman has a perfectly lovely voice.

panic-at-the-everywhere: says you

Disaster-Gay: Well considering Roman’s past in theater and performing, I would say that statistically, he is likely to have an at least somewhat pleasant voice otherwise he is likely to not have been so successful

Disaster-Gay: Regardless, there is a simple way for us to fix this.

Ace-Of-Cakes: Ooh, how so?

Disaster-Gay: We call each other. This way we will be able to hear each other's voices and find out whether or not Virgil is correct about how Roman sounds.

Ace-Of-Cakes: That sounds like a great idea!!

panic-at-the-everywhere: it sounds like a horrible idea

Ace-Of-Cakes: We should make it a face call!! That way we can see what everyone looks like

panic-at-the-everywhere: that sounds even worse

Ace-Of-Cakes: Oh, and Roman can show us what the apartment looks like!

Disaster-Gay: I am rather curious to see where we will be staying

panic-at-the-everywhere: ... i hate you

Ace-Of-Cakes: Does that mean you’ll do it?

panic-at-the-everywhere: if princey agrees then fine

Disaster-Gay: Roman? Are you opposed to us having a video phone call and giving a tour of the apartment?

Romano-Cheesy: That sounds like a wonderful idea!

It sounded like a horrible idea. A face call? A tour of the apartment? Roman hadn’t even had time to clean yet, and even his concealer struggled to hide the bags under his eyes. And what if they started asking personal questions? Roman had a hard enough time keeping it together over text when they started talking about stuff, how in the world was he going to act like everything was okay if they could hear the shake in his voice and see the tears running down his face.

But it wasn’t like he could just say no without them questioning it. He could at least try and buy himself a little more time to get ready.

Romano-Cheesy: It would have to wait until after work of course, but I would love to give you all the grand tour of our apartment.

Romano-Cheesy: If we make the call around 7, I could show you the sunset which looks absolutely stunning from our balcony

Ace-Of-Cakes: That sounds like a great idea Roman! And it means I can work until closing at the shelter and spend more time with the animals.

Disaster-Gay: So long as you stay away from the cats.

Ace-Of-Cakes: But they’re soooooo cute!!

panic-at-the-everywhere: patton

panic-at-the-everywhere: you are my best friend but i swear to god if i have to drive two hours in the dark because you were with the cats again...

Ace-Of-Cakes: fine. I’ll stick with the dogs.

Ace-Of-Cakes: But only because I get to talk to you guys afterward and you’re better than any cat!

Disaster-Gay: Are we all agreed then to a video call at 7:00 this evening?

panic-at-the-everywhere: i guess

Romano-Cheesy: It was my idea, so yes

Ace-Of-Cakes: Yes!!!! I can’t wait either, ahhh it’s going to be so exciting.

Disaster-Gay: It’s settled then. Patton, since this was your idea would you like to be the one to initiate the call?

Ace-Of-Cakes: Oh I would love to! Except... I kind of don’t actually know how to.

Disaster-Gay: You... Don’t know how to?

Ace-Of-Cakes: Not a clue

panic-at-the-everywhere: i honestly cant tell if hes joking or...

Disaster-Gay: It doesn’t matter. I’ll make the call. At least this way we can be certain it will happen on time.

Ace-Of-Cakes: I feel like you just insulted me a bit.

Disaster-Gay: It was less of an insult and more of a general observation. You, as well as the others in this chat for that matter, often struggle quite a bit to be on time.

Ace-Of-Cakes: :(

Disaster-Gay: Patton, I was not insulting you

Ace-Of-Cakes: :(((((((((((((((((((((((

Disaster-Gay: Patton...

Ace-Of-Cakes: :(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((

Disaster-Gay: Patton!

Ace-Of-Cakes: :((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((

Ace-Of-Cakes: Yes Logan?

Disaster-Gay: Although it was not my intention, I apologize if I have hurt your feelings.

Ace-Of-Cakes: Apology accepted! :)

Disaster-Gay: Don’t start

Ace-Of-Cakes: fiiiiiiine

....

Roman got home from work later than he had expected to, thanks to the 45-minute lecture he got from a customer about how they didn’t “agree with his lifestyle” and how he “shouldn’t be allowed to work around children” because he was a “threat to society”. When Roman’s manager attempted to step in and settle the situation the customer only got angrier, especially because Valerie refused to fire Roman on the spot just because he was trans. While it was nice to have someone on his side, Roman almost wished she had simply left it alone instead of dragging it out for even longer. It was the end of his shift, he was tired, and all he wanted to do was go home and curl up under the covers and pretend like the day had never happened.

Not that Roman could just crawl into bed even when he did finally get home, no matter how tempting of an idea it was. Logan was supposed to call in just a couple of hours and the apartment was in no shape to be seen by anyone else. It wasn’t in the full-on disaster mode that came whenever Roman got wrapped up in one of his projects (which hadn’t happened in over a year, not since he was sent there, not since he traded who he was for the price of his life. Just another part of him that had gotten lost behind the mask he wore). He had managed to keep up at least with small tasks, like taking out the trash and for the most part keeping the dishes clean, but it had been weeks since he had had the energy or motivation to really feel like vacuuming or mopping the floor, he hadn’t done laundry in nearly two weeks and he hadn’t cleaned his room since he moved in. Not to mention the fact that the doors to the other three bedrooms had been sealed shut since before he moved in and were definitely in need of some serious cleaning.

He had planned on spreading out the cleaning over the next week and take it room by room until finally it was all clean before it was time for the others to move in. But with Logan set to call at 7 pm, Roman only had two hours to rush through as much of the cleaning as he possibly could. If he hadn't wanted to sleep for three years before, by the time he finally quit to take a shower he most certainly did. He was still standing under the hot water when he heard his phone start to ring (definitely not half asleep) and had to quickly rush to dry himself off and get dressed. By the time he finally accepted the call, the other three were already mid-conversation about Patton’s day at the shelter, though that stopped the second that they noticed Roman had joined.

“-Oh look! Roman’s here! Hi Roman!” Even having never talked to them before, Roman knew in an instant that the first one to speak had to be Patton. His smile was like the embodiment of sunshine, and Roman could practically feel the warmth radiating off of him from here. The curly dirty blonde hair, shining blue eyes, and the smattering of freckles across his face only added to the look, and Roman felt his heart skip a beat as he took it all in.

“About time you showed up, asshole.” If Patton was the embodiment of sunshine, then Virgil was the exact opposite. His dark brown eyes were partially obscured by the purple fringe that fell into his face, and dark eyeshadow was smeared underneath them (Virgil truly lived up to his name as an emo nightmare, it seemed). There was a playful smirk on his lips that gave away he was mostly joking despite the annoyed tone he had spoken in, and the butterflies in Roman’s stomach settled just slightly at the realization that Virgil wasn’t actually mad. “We were beginning to think you ditched us.”

“Virgil thought you ditched us.” Patton corrected almost immediately, frowning for just a moment in his direction before he locked eyes with Roman again, smiling as he added: “I told him that you probably just got caught up in something and would be here as soon as you could.”

“And it seems as if Patton is correct. Judging by your wet hair, I assume you just came from the shower?” Logan was the last one to speak, and when Roman finally turned to look at the oldest of their quartet, he felt his breath catch in his throat slightly at the intensity with which Logan was staring back at him. His dark green eyes were searching Roman’s face calculatingly, his lips turned down just slightly in concern the longer he stared. Roman cleared his throat quietly and looked pointedly away from Logan before answering.

“Uh yes, I was in the middle of taking a shower when you called,” Roman admitted, trying not to wince at the high pitch of his voice compared to theirs (God Virgil was right to call his voice annoying, Roman hated it). “I hadn’t realized how late it had gotten, guess I just lost track of time.”

Okay, so maybe that was a lie. But there was no way for them to know that. At this point lying was almost second nature, no matter how much he hated it. It was all part of the act he kept up every day of his life. Roman forced a smile before any of them could call him out just in case (The frown on Logan’s face had only deepened and Roman was almost certain that he had seen straight through his lie), and quickly changed the subject by asking if they wanted a tour of the apartment.

Roman’s grateful for how quickly they all agree, if for no other reason than it allowed him to turn the camera away from himself for a while, giving him time to try and pull himself together without the others staring him down. Besides, at least this way he could look at the others without having to see himself as well and be reminded of just how much he hated the way that he looked.

Patton’s excited chattering about everything he saw, and about all the plans of things they could do once they moved in together made it so Roman didn’t have to say much even as the one giving the tour, although there were a few things he made sure to point out like the fact they only had one bathroom or there was a false back in the hall closet that led into a room he hadn’t actually entered yet, but that he was pretty sure was probably filled with spiders (Hence the reason he hadn’t entered, Logan was the only one who seemed to think it was a good idea to explore it at all). The most stunning part of the tour, of course, was the sunset, which thanks to the position of their balcony meant that it set over a small lake allowing the light to dance off the water and create a breathtaking view.

Silence fell over them all for several minutes as they watched, until finally, Logan broke it to explain exactly why the setting sun made the sky change colors and what made it so attractive to humans to the point it was often used as a romantic setting. Roman eventually sat down, legs dangling between the bars as Logan spoke, resting his head against the railing and keeping his camera pointed towards the lake even after the sun had set and the topic had begun to shift towards other settings humans often designated as romantic. Listening to the three talk Roman felt himself slowly nodding off to sleep, and was only jerked awake suddenly by the sound of someone calling his name.

“Roman, kiddo, are you still there?” Patton asked, concern lacing his voice and when Roman focused again on the screen he noticed all three of the boys were now staring at him with various amounts of concern and confusion on their faces. “You still have the camera turned off of you so we can’t actually tell if you left or not, and you haven’t said anything in a while.”

“I’m still here Patton,” Roman said softly, taking a deep breath and putting on what he hoped was a convincing fake smile before turning the camera back around, lifting his phone so that his face came into view for the others. “Sorry, I got wrapped in my thoughts for a moment there. Watching the sunset tends to do that to me.”

“Aw there’s no need to apologize kiddo, it happens to all of us.” Patton smiled reassuringly, sharing a concerned glance with Virgil and Logan when he thought Roman wasn’t looking. “We were just worried about you is all.”

“Indeed. You seemed to be in quite deep thought considering it took several tries to get your attention.” Logan agreed, his voice calm but still it sent chills down Roman’s back, and he bit his lip in an attempt to keep from shuddering in response. Logan fell silently as he slowly looked Roman over with his piercing stare, which softened just slightly when he finally said “Roman, you look exhausted. When was the last time you had a decent night’s sleep?”

“I’m fine,” Roman lied, averting his gaze from the camera in favor of looking up towards the night sky, letting out a shaky breath as he tried to keep himself together for just a little bit longer. “It’s just been a long day at work, shitty customers, you know how that goes.”

“Are you sure that’s the only thing bothering you kiddo?” Patton asked, and Roman had to bit his lip to keep from spilling it all right then and there. Instead, he nodded his head, forcing another smile onto his face before he looked back down at the others just in time to see them sharing another look of concern and disbelief.

“I’m fine,” Roman repeated, more force behind his words this time, but it did nothing to sway the others into believing them any more than the first time he said it. But he didn’t give them time to argue before he added: “And even if I wasn’t, it really isn’t something I want to talk about so can we please just move on to something else?”

Roman hated to snap at them, especially when they were only trying to be good friends and help him out, but he didn’t want their help. Not if it meant letting down the walls he had so desperately built to keep himself safe, allowing them to see him vulnerable and weak after he promised never to do that again. He didn’t want, didn’t need their help in knowing that he was broken beyond repair. He had already learned that years ago.

They didn’t seem happy about it, but thankfully the other three seemed to realize how serious Roman was and allowed the conversation to drift to other topics. Slowly Roman found himself starting to relax again as they talked about last minute preparations, how their family and friends felt about them leaving, what classes they were excited to take at some point and the things they were most nervous about starting college. Roman was just starting to think that he might make it through the phone call without any more incidents when almost out of the blue Patton asked

“Did you know that the theater department is putting on Beauty and the Beast for its musical this semester? We should all go see it together, I bet it’ll be really fun.”

Roman froze, his eyes widening slightly at Patton’s words, a sick feeling washing over him at the thought. It had been over two years since he had last been in a theater having every last one of his dreams crushed as the drama teacher told him it was too dangerous for him to perform at school now that he was outed, and that he would never find a part for himself anyways on a professional stage. Acting had been his entire life up until that moment, and when it was taken away Roman found himself unable to stand even the thought of spending a single minute in another theater. Especially if it was in the audience.

“Please Patton, you know Princey’s going to be on stage with all the rest of those nerds.” Virgil scoffed, oblivious to the thoughts swirling around in Roman’s mind at that very moment, rolling his eyes. “He practically bleeds Disney movies, there’s no way he wouldn’t try to land at least some sort of role. He could probably play the Beast just on his ability to recite the lines from memory alone.”

“Actually, dialogue and songs in movies often differ from what you see performed on a stage,” Logan replied, adjusting his glasses casually as he turned to look at Roman, an almost fond look in his eyes as he continued. “However, I do believe you are correct in the fact that Roman very easily could secure the role of Prince Adam. Of course I do not know any of the other actors who will be trying out for the role admittedly, however, I sincerely doubt any of them hold as much enthusiasm or love for Disney as Roman does, and passion alone is very beneficial in landing a role.”

“How the hell do you know that?” Virgil asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow at Logan who merely shrugged, responding “I told you that my cousin performs at the local theater quite often. I have sat in on many auditions with him since I was young and have picked up quite a few things in the process.”

Roman was hardly paying attention to the conversation anymore; his mind was racing far too much trying to understand what had been said in the past few minutes to process anything else. Virgil and Logan both really thought that he could get the part of Adam if he decided to audition for the musical. But why? They had never heard him sing, seen him act, sure they knew that he loved Disney but that alone didn’t qualify as enough of a reason for him to get a part in a play. He didn’t have the voice, didn’t have the face or the body or the anything to play Prince Adam, even if he could recite every line of dialogue perfectly there was no way he would ever look the part.

Eventually, his curiosity got the best of him, and before Roman could stop himself he blurted out “Do you really think that I would have a chance to play Prince Adam?”

Whatever conversation had been going on before stopped at Roman’s outburst, and almost immediately he wished that he could take it back as confused looks settled on all three faces of his friends.

“I mean yeah, I don’t see why you wouldn’t,” Virgil said slowly after a moment, eying Roman curiously as he tried to understand the source of his sudden question. “Like Logan said, I doubt anyone loves Disney as much you.”

“Statistically you have just as good of a chance as anyone else who tries out,” Logan added, his eyebrows furrowing just slightly as he scanned Roman’s face yet again, and Roman wondered if he saw anything different this time because after a moment his eyes widened just slightly in realization. “Do you not think you have a chance?”

“No!” Roman replied, the answer spilling out of his mouth before he could stop it, shocking even himself as he continued to explain “I mean for one thing I look nothing like Prince Adam! I mean- He’s fucking gorgeous in the movie and I’m- I’m-”

“You’re beautiful.” Patton interrupted, his voice firm and determined, but there was a softness in his eyes as he stared Roman down that made it clear he was only speaking out of love, and Roman couldn’t stop the tears that filled his eyes as Patton repeated. “You are absolutely, 100%, stunningly beautiful.”

“You...You think I’m beautiful?” Roman whispered, his voice soft and disbelieving, like that of a child’s when you tell them something they don’t quite understand. It was enough to make tears start running down Patton’s face, and Roman’s eyes widened in concern over what he had done but before he could apologize Logan added

“You are one of the most handsome men I have had the pleasure of Meeting.” Roman wasn’t sure if it was the fierce certainty in Logan’s voice, or maybe just the fact that he had called him handsome, but at that moment he couldn’t hold back the tears any longer and he dropped his phone into his lap so he could cover his face as he began to cry for the first time in a long time, though out of pain or happiness he really wasn’t quite sure.

Well, he wasn’t sure until Virgil added: “You definitely live up to the last name Prince.”

Roman laughed wetly, lifting his head to look back down at his phone, a real smile pulling at the corner of his lips, and softly he said: “Thank you.”

#sanders sides #sanders sides angst #Roman Sanders #Logan Sanders #Patton Sanders #virgil sanders #platonic lamp #tw: self loathing #tw: dysphoria #tw: implied transphobia #tw: implied homophobia #tw: mentioned conversion therapy #Ravenpuff Writes #to be continued...???#maybe

49 notes · View notes

drabbles-drabbles-everywhere · 6 years

Text

What Is This Feeling?

Summary:

Remus Lupin never expected a lot of things to happen. He never expected to be able to go to Hogwarts, he never expected to make friends, or be excepted, or to fall in love. He had been told from a young age that love was a waste of time, that love was a weakness. He believed that all his life, but a certain Gryffindor has him questioning everything Fenrir told him.

Sirius Black is not what everyone wants him to be. For starters, his parents want him to be their perfect pure-blood princess, but that's just not who he is. He isn't their little princess, nor will he ever be their princess. Not that he can tell them that anyways. He believes he'll never find someone who will want him for who he is, just like his parents always told him, but upon meeting a certain werewolf everything seems to change. Like for starters, he learns that not all Slytherins are so bad.

Tags:

Not Canon Compliant, Dark!Remus Lupin, Trans!Sirius Black, Trans Male Character, Slytherin!Remus Lupin, POC James Potter, Black James Potter, Fenrir Raises Lupin, Transphobia, Homophobia, Implies/Referenced Child Abuse, Slow Burn

Warnings:

Strong language, some transphobia and homophobia, implies/referenced child abuse

Words: 2,072

AO3

Chapter One is under the keeping reading if you wish to read it here ^^

Remus was five, when his father's words backfired and ruined his life. It was late August, the night of the full moon, and the little family of three sat in the living. Hope was knitting, Lyall was reading and little Remus was coloring when the large reddish brown wolf jumped through the sitting room window, heading straight for Remus. Hope and Lyall were frozen to the spot as they watched the wolf's jaws close around Remus' shoulder as it pinned him down, only moving when Remus' let out a blood curdling scream.

It took a few different spells to get the wolf off, but as soon as it was off of Remus it was gone again. Remus laid in the middle of the floor, screaming and crying as his arm bled. As Lyall set to work on helping his son he hoped that there was a chance that Remus wouldn't be a werewolf, but as he tried every healing spell he knew to fix the torn flesh it was clear that Remus would indeed be a werewolf. After wrapping Remus' arm and laying him in bed Lyall and Hope could only hope that Remus wouldn't survive the transformation as the curse travelled through his blood stream.

They loved their son, they really did, but this wasn't the life they wanted for him. They wanted their son to be a normal wizard, but there was no hope of that now. So now all they could wish for their little boy was death. Even if he did survive Lyall knew that Remus would no longer be his son. As far as he was concerned werewolves were soulless, evil, and deserved nothing but death.

However after three days of being sick, barley being awake for more than half an hour and eating very little, Remus survived and started getting better. Hope was silently thankful as she didn't want to have to bury her only son. Lyall on the other hand was furious. So from that point on he wanted nothing to do with Remus. So if anyone asked him about Remus he would tell them that there was an accident and Remus' injuries were too severe and he didn't make it.

As the days went by Remus grew angry, angry at himself for being a monster, angry at his parents for pushing him away and angry at the man who ruined his life. But really he was masking his hurt with anger. He had caught his parents talking about him late one night, trying to figure out what to do with him as his first moon approached and as he became a little more feral everyday. Remus had left and locked himself in his room after he heard them calling him a monster, a disease on the family name.

A week before the full moon they decided it was time, and took Remus out to the woods on a camping trip. Remus had asked his parents if this was their way of getting rid of him, but they had just chuckled and told him he had a crazy imagination and that they were only going out there so he would be safe for his first transformation. Remus believe them, mainly because he didn't want to believe that his parents really didn't want him. Remus had tried to stay up that night to see if his parents were going to leave him, but once he was under the blanket, cuddling with his wolf plushie he couldn't stop his eyes from drooping.

Remus woke in the middle of the night to use the bathroom and found his parents tent empty. He still refused to believe that they didn't want him so he convinced himself that they had just gone out for a late night walk and would be back any minute. But as the minutes turned into hours he realized how wrong he was.

He must've fallen back asleep because he woke later in the morning, startled to find a man sitting across from him, his head cocked to the side as he watched Remus cling tighter to the wolf plushie he held in his arms.

"D-Do you know where my parents are?" Remus asked, his voice soft and hesitant. The other man sighed, bowing his head slightly. He didn't look much older than Remus' parents were and they were in their late 20's early 30's.

"They aren't coming back and you know that," Fenrir replied, his voice rough and gravely. "But it doesn't matter. I can help you. I know what you are. Just come with me and you'll be safe," Fenrir told him, reaching a hand out to the boy, who just shrunk away from the man. Remus shook his head, clinging to his plushie even more, the only thing he had left from his parents.

Fenrir had growled, trying everything he would use on his pack to convince the boy to come with him, but Remus still refused, clinging to the hope that his parents would come back for him. Fenrir sighed and stood from where he was sitting before wandering back towards where his pack was staying. He was never good with handling the young ones. He was hoping that Sasha and Max would be able to coax the boy into coming with them.

Remus sat by himself for roughly two hours, watching the animals that would dash around the forest floor, before Fenrir came back with two other people. A younger couple, no older than their early 20's. They say in front of Remus and asked about him. How old he was, if he liked to read, and who his little friend was. Slowly Remus began to open up to them, even telling them how he got the bite mark that was visible on his shoulder. Sasha and Max even told Remus how they got their bite marks and how it made the four of them kind of like a family, explaining that it made their wolves family and that they were called a pack.

"Hon, did you know your parents were going to do this? Have you ever heard them talk about doing something like this before?" Sasha asked, her voice gentle as she talked to him. Remus shrugged, burying his head in the plushies fur. "You know they're not coming back right?" Remus nodded, tears forming in his eyes.

"You could come with us. We are your family after all," Max told him. Remus hesitated, still wanting to believe his parents loved him, that he could still be the same little boy they used to love. But looking up at them he knew they would be a better family than his parents would have been if they hadn't left him. A sob crashed through him as he threw himself into Sasha's lap, burying his head in her chest as he cried.

Remus clung to her the whole walk to where the pack was staying. But by the time they actually made it there Remus was fast asleep, curled against Sasha's chest, his plushie held tightly in his arms. Remus was moved into Sasha and Max's part of the house, as it seemed right to let the two raise the boy.

Though while they were in charge or Remus human side, Fenrir was in charge of Remus' wolf side. Teaching him how to control some aspects of his wolf when in human form. He taught him about many things that most people don't know, like how every wolf has a true mate, someone made for them, but Fenrir said that looking for your true mate was a waste of time. That love was a waste of time and made people weak.

As Remus grew up Fenrir started pushing him harder, making him tougher, forcing him to leave behind the shy, quiet boy he used to be. He was no longer the boy that got pushed around by the other kids. Instead he started pushing back, he even started talking back to Fenrir which never ended well for him. In fact during one of the times where Remus had decided to fight back, Fenrir had lost his temper, lashing out at Remus and clawing him, leaving Remus with two scars over his left eye. Which he would have lost if the wolf's eye hadn't taken it over, leaving him with one honey brown eye and one piercing amber eye.

It was Remus' eleventh birthday when they got a visit from Dumbledore, who had just become headmaster at Hogwarts. After Remus had recovered from the bite, his parents had contacted Dumbledore and told him what happened. At the time there was nothing he could do for Remus, but now the boy had a chance to be great wizard.

"I'm aware you don't like us Fenrir, but it's a chance for Remus to make something of himself," Dumbledore said, as the five of them sat around the kitchen table in Sasha and Max's house.

"And what about the moons? How are you going to keep a castle full of kids safe with a werewolf on the lose?"

"We built a shack on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, connecting to Hogwarts ground via a tunnel protected by a Whomping Willow that can only be still by pressing it in a certain spot. I assure you everyone will be completely safe and only our head healer and I will know about him," Dumbledore countered.

"Please Fenrir? I never thought I'd get a chance to go to Hogwarts. This is my only chance. Please," Remus begged, his father had told him all about Hogwarts and how amazing it was and how he would be come a great wizard if he went there. But all those dreams had been crushed the moment he had been bitten.

Fenrir sighed, running a hand down his face. He didn't want to let Remus go, afraid that this was all just a trap, but it gave the boy a chance to have a better life. "Alright fine. As long as we are able to stay in contact with him. Being around so many people he's never met, that aren't his pack could agitate the wolf,"

"Of course. We can get a pair of two-way mirrors so you can stay in contact with him and he can contact you when ever he needs to," Dumbledore agreed, nodding his head as he talked. "Well I believe this is yours then," Remus smiled brightly as Dumbledore handed him a sealed envelope, his Hogwarts letter.

Remus' first trip to Diagon Alley was a few months before he was set to leave for Hogwarts. Being around so many people was not a pleasant experience, but he pushed through, knowing that if he couldn't do this there was no way he would be able to go to Hogwarts. For the most part the trip was quick and easy, though robes were a different story, since he was rather small. The last thing he had to get was a wand, which took a lot longer than any of them had expected. By the time he had gotten home that night he was mentally drained. The wolf hadn't liked being in a crowd of people that weren't his pack. Though it did help to have his parents with him.

As September rolled around Remus was excited to learn that he would be able to ride the train with the other kids, as the full moon was set to be a week and a half after he arrived at Hogwarts.

The night before he was set to leave Remus was scared. It was the first time in a long time that he had been scared of anything, but he'd never been away from the pack for more than a day or two. Now he was going to be away for months. Only coming back for a week or two during the holidays. He was nervous, afraid Dumbledore's plan would fail and he would get loose during a moon and hurt someone, exposing himself and potentially getting him sent to Azkaban.

He just hoped everything would be okay. That nothing would go wrong and he would be able to attend Hogwarts for all 7 years. He even hoped to make friends, but knew that was not a top priority and would more than likely never happen. All he really cared about was doing his best and getting the best marks he can get.

#What Is This Feeling?#my writing #marauders era #alternate universe #not canon compliant #Dark!Remus Lupin #Trans!Sirius Black #Slytherin!Remus Lupin #fenrir raises remus #transphobia #homophobia #implied/referenced child abuse #slow burn #poc james potter #wolfstar #jily #eventual wolfstar #eventual jily #original characters

10 notes · View notes

woodenwedges · 6 years

Note

1 through 100. Let's go! Answer em aaaalll!

Omg Kate you’re absolute mad!!! Thanks tho’ I love answering these things ❤️😁Hoo boy here we go!1. What is you middle name?Don’t have one! Neither does my brother.2. How old are you?203. When is your birthday?The 15th of may 🌸4. What is your zodiac sign?Taurus ♉️🐃5. What is your favorite color?Baby pink! 6. What’s your lucky number?Dunno about lucky number but my favorite number is 77. Do you have any pets?Yep! Two dogs.One sweet, blonde girl named Emsi (based on the danish word Emsig meaning officious)And a neurotic chihuahua named Henry. We got them both cause their owners no longer could take care of them and I love them to the moon and back ❤️8. Where are you from?Hirtshals in Denmark! I love my town to death9. How tall are you?Uuuh around like 1,65 m10. What shoe size are you?3911. How many pairs of shoes do you own?Too many.... we get a lot of free stuff so I have a lot. Probably around 10 pairs?12. What was your last dream about?The only thing I remember from my last dream was that I got a pimple on my forehead lol13. What talents do you have?I’m good at art, dancing and just performing in general and I’m getting pretty good with makeup!14. Are you psychic in any way?Nope15. Favorite song?Right now it’s brain damage and eclipse from The Dark Side of The Moonby Pink Floyd. They remind me of my mom ❤️16. Favorite movie?Don’t actually have one! But the last film I think I saw was carol and I absolutely loved it.17. Who would be your ideal partner?Just someone who’s intelligent and kind I guess! And has a similar sense of humor18. Do you want children?I do, but I’m probably never gonna birth any cause I have an illness I don’t want to risk transferring and also might be going on T soon!!19. Do you want a church wedding?I don’t really care20. Are you religious?Nah. I’m a spiritual atheist21. Have you ever been to the hospital?Only as a visitor. I’ve gone to the emergency room but I’ve never been admitted.22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law?Nope23. Have you ever met any celebrities?My cousins a model who’s dating one of the Danish x-factor judges so yea.24. Baths or showers?BATHS25. What color socks are you wearing?White. I prefer just plain whites rn, but there’s was a time in my life where I always wore fun, colorful socks and never matching them26. Have you ever been famous?Lol no but a stranger did come up to me last week and told me she’s a huge fan of my work ❤️ a lot of the locals like my watercolor portraits27. Would you like to be a big celebrity?Honestly yea I do fantasize a lot about it 28. What type of music do you like?Music is a huge part of my life! My main Spotify playlist is 161 hours now and it’s all extremely diverse!The only music I don’t particularly like is blues and trap cause i find it boring. Right now I’m really into old grungy rock, punk, experimental stuff, rap and disco 💃🏼 29. Have you ever been skinny dipping?Sure have! I did it countless times this summer at the beach. There’s nothing more freeing than swimming naked in the ocean 💙30. How many pillows do you sleep with?Just one, but it’s a really good one. Oh and sometimes and extra one just to cuddle 31. What position do you usually sleep in?Fetus position is my fav but I’m trying not to do that cause it’s bad for your back32. How big is your house?Pretty big. Two stories plus a garage where my friends and I hang out. And also a two bedroom annex33. What do you typically have for breakfast?Toast or oatmeal with nuts and berries34. Have you ever fired a gun?No35. Have you ever tried archery?I tried it a couple of weeks ago and it was really fun! 36. Favorite clean word?I like words like clean and crystal and chemical 37. Favorite swear word?Fuck.38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep?Don’t remember. Pretty long. But I’ve started to be very careful with sleep cause my mental health REALLY depends on it39. Do you have any scars?Lots. Anything from self-harm to getting burned by a marshmallow lmao40. Have you ever had a secret ?Bitch my whole personality used to be a secret. So yea a lot41. Are you a good liar?Yup. I’m very creative and anxious so if I feel like I’ve done something I shouldn’t I immediately have a good lie ready. Also I’ve had some problems with compulsive lying whoops42. Are you a good judge of character?Nooo not really cause I always feel bad for disliking ppl so I force myself to keep an open mind. But I’ve learned to just follow my instincts a bit more43. Can you do any other accents other than your own?I’m pretty good at like southern American accents and also an American accent In Danish is so fun and cute. 44. Do you have a strong accent?It’s pretty strong. I used to fake a British accent out of embarrassment but then I started feeling pretentious so I let it go45. What is your favorite accent?I love a Colombian accent and French ofc. Also Indian and Chinese. Oh and a lot of African ones too, especially the ppl from Congo! But I love accents in general. They’re literally my go to ASMR trigger46. What is your personality type?INFP47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing?My winter jacket... my mom wanted to buy me one that was new and when we finally found one that didn’t give me dysphoria I was so excited I forgot to look at the price tag... and she just bought it for me anyway.48. Can you curl your tongue?Yea and I can stick it between my tooth gap49. Are you an innie or an outie?Outie all the way50. Left or right handed?Right51. Are you scared of spiders?No, I used to have pretty severe arachnophobia but i worked through it and now I actually really love them! Also I don’t care how scared you are of them, don’t you dare kill them in front of me! That makes me so uncomfortable. Just let me know there’s a spider and I’ll get it safely outside for you 52. Favorite food?Love sushi with crab meat or fried shrimp!53. Favorite foreign food?Well probably sushi? Lol. Or anything Italian!54. Are you a clean or messy person?Super messy but I’m trying my best!55. Most used phrased?“Bid I det sure æble”. Basically “bite the bullet” in English 56. Most used word?Probably bitch. I use it in an affectionate manner towards friends lmao57. How long does it take for you to get ready?Very, very long58. Do you have much of an ego?Yea I think so59. Do you suck or bite lollipops?Suck60. Do you talk to yourself?Nope. 61. Do you sing to yourself?Yes!62. Are you a good singer?I’m decent. Think I could get good if I got a vocal coach63. Biggest Fear?Getting ridiculed, being misunderstood and being unwanted 64. Are you a gossip?I love gossip...65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen?I don’t really know sry!66. Do you like long or short hair?Love all hair. I love running my fingers through long hair. I prefer short hair for me tho67. Can you name all 50 states of America?LOL NO68. Favorite school subject?I really liked art and foreign language classes69. Extrovert or Introvert?HUGE introvert!70. Have you ever been scuba diving?No but I’d love to try it!71. What makes you nervous?Public embarrassment is a big one. But racism, homophobia, transphobia and misogyny will also make me very, very nervous.72. Are you scared of the dark?Not at all73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes?Depends on the mistakes? Never on like grammar and stuff like that.74. Are you ticklish?Very. I can tickle myself. But then again I am schizophrenic lol75. Have you ever started a rumor?Once in high school my friends and I started a rumor that I was “a hermaphrodite” and we kept it going for years. At first it was just to fuck with people but then I started getting like a kick from it. For some reason I loved the idea of people thinking I was intersex. Aaaand that was the start of me getting gender identity issues lol76. Have you ever been in a position of authority?I used to teach dancing lessons for kids at a local church lol does that count?77. Have you ever drank underage?Only a couple of beers. But the drinking age is here is 15 so that’s not a huge problem 78. Have you ever done drugs?a couple of times. Done ecstasy and Valium once which was really fun. And I’ve tried speed a couple of times but it has no effect on me. I also love weed if you consider that a drug 79. Who was your first real crush?Had a huge crush on a guy at my boarding school. And also a girl at the school... they became a couple and I remember wanting to die asdgsa80. How many piercings do you have?None! Had a septum once, but I never had my ears pierced as a child or anything 81. Can you roll your Rs?“Yea82. How fast can you type?Pretty fast!83. How fast can you run?I’m not a great runner but I’m getting better84. What color is your hair?Blonde85. What color is your eyes?Green86. What are you allergic to?Nothing. Tho I do get allergic reactions to extreme swifts in temperature 87. Do you keep a journal?Yup!88. What do your parents do?Both retired now but my dad used to be a fisherman and my mom ran a daycare and later worked with elderly people who suffered from dementia. 89. Do you like your age?Yea?90. What makes you angry?It takes a lot to get me angry but unnecessary hate and harassment usually gets me to tick91. Do you like your own name?I really like it actually! 92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they?I have but I don’t remember them... think I repressed those daydreams when I decided never to bear children :(93. Do you want a boy a girl for a child?Idc94. What are you strengths?Intellectuality, kindness, curiosity, creativity and bravery. Also I get a lot of praise for being so open and aware of my mental illnesses and for fighting so fiercely to get healthy. 95. What are your weaknesses?Bad self criticism, naïvety, laziness and having trouble asking for help and taking initiative 96. How did you get your name?My brother decided it.97. Were your ancestors royalty?Pff highly doubt it98. Do you have any scars?Already answered this99. Color of your bedspread?That really popular, white IKEA one with flowers100. Color of your room?White, although I cover them up with posters, drawings and sometimes literal trash when i get psychotic cause white walls make me hallucinate like crazyThis was a fucking blast!!! Thanks Kate 😚❤️

2 notes · View notes

thekillingquill · 7 years

Text

11 Questions Tag Game

post the rules

Answer the questions given to you by the tagger

Write 11 questions of your own

Tag 11 people

Thank you to Hannah for thinking of me :) @spiderling--parker

If your best friend were to ask you to punch someone, would you? My best friend asked me if I would walk through of forest of spiders to rescue her. I’d much rather punch someone, but honestly it would depend on why she wanted me to punch that person. And if she was serious (she might just be venting).

Which of your memories is the strongest? I think whatever memory I am recalling at the time is usually the strongest. I’m able to recite some conversations word for word. I’m also pretty good at repressing memories.

If you could feel anyone’s heartbeat, whose would it be? My first, real love. Whoever that’s going to be!

What’s your favorite time of day? 7:00 pm, about time I’m home and having me time. I love me time.

How many more scars do you think you will get before the end of your life? Maybe five or so.

What does the color purple sound like to you? The Barney soundtrack.

Where do you find motivation? From my friends, from money, from food.

Do you feel there’s been a turning point in your life yet? If so, what was it? There have been a couple of turning points. The biggest one, the one that matters most was when I was about thirteen years old and I picked up the first Harry Potter book and found a reason to keep going.

Which do you hate more: patronization or over expectancy? Patronization. I find that if people expect a lot of me, it’s stressful but I can often meet the expectation or just straight up tell them that I can’t do it. For the most part, they’ve been understanding. But it really pisses me off when people patronize me.

If you could pick one thing in society to normalize, what would it be? You’re really out here asking me to choose between wanting to abolish racism, homophobia or transphobia in society huh?

If you could paint the sky with any color, which one would it be? Lilac.

Quill’s 11 Questions:

How are you feeling right now?

What is #1 on your bucket list?

What was the last thing to make you laugh until you cried?

Would you rather be able to teleport long distances or be able to move at the speed of light for short distances (about 10 feet at most)?

Which 5 songs are on the playlist of your life?

How would you describe your 2017?

What will your new year’s resolution be for 2018?

What do you want for Christmas?

Where do you hope to be in five years?

When did you start your blog?

What did you want for your birthday this year?

I tag: @tasteofswallowedwords @midtownsciences (I don’t know which blog you’d rather post this on); @forevanssake @ju-gg @velvetacex @spiderllandtrash @sarahaera @make-it-a-sweet-goodbyee (won’t link will have to send to you) @writing-obrien @wearelondonbound @spiderparkerboy @rileywrites-parker

#Ask Game

3 notes · View notes

missmeikakuna · 5 years

Text

Chad and the Incel Chapter 2

Rated: M

Fandom: Original Fiction (but inspired by the Virgin vs Chad meme)

Relationship type: Male/Male with a bit of Female/Female (the lesbians are adorable, btw) and unrequited Male/Female (in other words, the guys are bisexual).

Description: Chad is, well, a Chad, or at least he looks like one. He’s got his sights set on the cool nerd Becky and enlists the help of her shy incel ex-friend Noah, offering to help him get the gorgeous girl (Stacy) he desperately wants. Noah is reluctant to help, believing that he will be stuck in inceldom forever, but Chad’s interest in his life gives him hope. When their plans go awry, they start turning their romantic attention towards each other.

Content Warning: Given the subject matter, you can guess that this story has dark themes in it, such as suicide and self-harm (plus the mental health issues that often cause them), sexism, slut-shaming homophobia, biphobia and transphobia. There is also swearing and some mentions of sex but nothing too explicit (hence the M rating as opposed to an Explicit rating).

2nd Post: [Venting] Was invited to a Chad’s house, I want to die

Becky wore a scarf one day and five minutes was all it took for Chad to start mourning the sight of her neck. There was no training that day, so after school he headed to the library, knowing she would go there. He was right, and to his delight she took off her scarf. As she browsed the selection, he pretended to do the same thing.

A sizeable chunk of his soul yelled, ‘Creep!’ at the rest of it, but he ignored that voice and slowly encroached upon her until he stood next to her.

‘So…’ he began in a voice deep enough to show vocal fry, which was his attempt to sound casual. ‘What have you been up to?’

Becky gave him a wary stare but answered. ‘Not much. Just reading and gaming.’

‘Oh yeah? What games do you play?’

‘Well, I’ve been playing Final Fantasy 13 again. Lightning’s cute.’ As soon as she said the last sentence, she covered her mouth and coughed into it. ‘So, uh, what book are you looking for?’

‘Oh, well…’ Chad laughed nervously. ‘I kind of just wanted to see you.’ Becky rose an eyebrow. ‘Not in a creepy way! Um, I just…’

‘I’m pretty sure you saying it’s not creepy makes it worse. I’ve got to be honest- I thought you would be better at this than that. I thought you’d have had more practice.’

Chad laughed again. ‘I, uh, um.... guess it means you’re one of the lucky few who I’ve had an interest in.’

‘Whom you’ve had an interest in.’ She lifted her shoulders and covered her mouth again. She took a few deep breaths and let go of her mouth. ‘I’m sorry, but I like someone else.’

Those words pushed Chad’s heart down to the depths of his body. He froze as he felt cold shivers run down his arms and legs. It took him a while to be able to open his mouth.

‘Cool. I’ll… see you later, then.’ He forced a smile onto his face as we waved goodbye and headed out of the library. He took out his phone and went onto his contact list. He reminded himself to get a photo of Noah to add to his contact information. He then reminded himself that it would probably be hard to convince Noah to take a photo of himself. Something along the lines of selfies being ‘a way for attractive normies to show their narcissism and ugly chicks to make themselves forget how ugly they are.’ Noah had then muttered something about ugly girls still getting boyfriends while ugly guys get nothing. Chad had considered asking him for evidence of that, but he decided not to press the issue and instead let Noah’s anger subside.

Yes, Noah and Chad had had a couple of chats, though they hadn’t made any conclusive plans. The conversation about selfies had come about when they saw a student taking a photo with her food.

Outside the library, Chad leaned against the wall and sent Noah a message.

Let’s head to my place soon to figure out what we’re going to do. Are you free Saturday?

He typed his address and a possible time for Noah to come over. Noah took a while to reply.

Whatever. It’s not like I’ve got anything else to do. Won’t you be busy?

Chad raised an eyebrow before typing.

Why?

Noah’s response caused Chad to be torn between laughing and sinking into self-loathing.

Won’t you be sleeping with some chick?

Chad grit his teeth but didn’t bother replying, somehow knowing that this would result in the conversation spiralling into utter madness.

Saturday arrived and so did Noah, knocking on the door to Chad’s house. This time he wore a shirt featuring a muscular CGI man with a scar across the bridge of his nose wielding two swords. Chad considered asking who it was but he thought he sort of recognised it from a game he hadn’t played.

He led him to his room and asked if he wanted a snack, to which Noah responded, ‘Nes. I mean no! I ended up combining… never mind.’ The two stood in silence until Noah dropped his backpack to the floor and sat down on Chad’s bed. ‘So, uh, why’d you decide to call a meeting?’

Chad sat on the bed next to him before swivelling his body and lying down behind Noah. ‘Well, there’s a slight change of plans. Becky rejected me. Said she liked someone else.’

Noah stood up, looking at the carpet. ‘Okay. See ya whenever.’

Chad grabbed Noah’s arm. ‘Wait, we’ll just have to find a way to get her to notice me instead of the other guy. What kind of guy does she like? Is she more of a personality or looks kind of girl?’

Noah released a single tiny laugh that could easily be mistaken for a cough. ‘Personality? Girls don’t go for that.’

‘You think so?’

Noah nodded. ‘If she’s not interested in your looks, she’s never gonna be interested in you. But… wait… how… how exactly did a Chad like you not attract her? Maybe she’s playing hard to get.’

‘The ‘Chad’ thing again? I still don’t get how I look like a Chad.’

As he sat on the bed again and began explaining, Noah ensured that his head was turned as far away from Chad as possible.

‘A Chad, you know, those guys who are really mus… athletic and… have a strong jawline and… hunter eyes.’

Chad looked at him with the eyes of a puppy being given an unfamiliar toy. ‘What are hunter eyes?’

‘You know… hunter eyes… like, you’re able to swoop in and get any girl you want. Alpha male eyes. You understand what I’m saying?’

Chad touched below his eyes. When Noah dared to look at him his body tensed up and he instinctively took a phone and pair of headphones out of his bag.

‘Wow, rude, man,’ Chad said with a laugh.

Noah snapped out of a trance. ‘S-sorry. I… I don’t know how else I can calm… I’m not a crazy person or anything.’

Chad chuckled. ‘It’s okay, I guess. You do whatever it is you’re doing while I come up with a plan.’

He closed his eyes and stroked his chin in the hopes of getting an idea into his head. Find a way to make the guy she liked look bad? No, it could make him look bad in the process, possibly worse than the other guy. Maybe he could, instead of dragging the other guy down, he could prop himself up and woo her with a big display of love like a serenade or something like that. No, wait, was this the 80s? What if he impersonated the guy and confessed to her again?

With this last idea he started laughing so hard he sat up so he could hold his sides better. Noah seemed unperturbed.

Chad leaned over Noah’s shoulder and saw what appeared to be one of those ‘animes’ he heard about online. He found himself chuckling as a girl with a horse for a head, or at least a horse mask, hit a creepily smiling girl with a chair and sent her flying out the window.

As he pointed at the screen he asked, ‘What anime is this?’ Since Noah didn’t respond, he grabbed his shoulder, sending a wave of shock throughout Noah’s body. Noah immediately flinched and turned his head. He paused for a moment before taking off his headphones. ‘I thought anime was about, I don’t know, ninjas or something. What’s with the horse lady?’

Noah couldn’t push down his smirk. ‘Well, if you must know, this ‘horse lady’ you speak of is wearing the mask to, well, mask her tsundere tendencies. I’ve seen this show before so I know that when she starts to warm up to the other characters and show her dere-dere side, she takes the mask off. It’s a really moving use of character design to convey personality to an audience and it just goes to show how clever character designers use the visual medium of anime to say so much about-’

‘Ha, that girl grabbed another girl’s boob.’ Noah glared at him. ‘Wait, how many chicks are there in this thing?’

‘Well, it’s set in an all-girls school, so…’

Chad gave him a finger gun gesture and clicked his fingers. ‘Lesbians. Nice.’ He almost laughed when Noah’s glare strengthened.

‘Their relationship would be innocent and beautiful. Nothing ‘nice’ about it. Us mere men would be lucky to get to witness such a pure fate come true.’

‘Is it pure to grab another girl’s boob?’

Noah shifted his weight from side to side and looked back at his phone without a word. The two watched the show in silence, part of Chad wishing he could actually hear things since the subtitles were really small on the screen and he couldn’t experience the voice acting, music or sound effects. Then again, he had an inkling that Noah’s protective grip on his headphones would be like a baby’s.

He considered asking him to take the headphones out and let the audio fill the room until a scene cropped up in which one of the characters moaned while being undressed by a faceless being. Granted, in context it was all in that character’s imagination, but Chad’s parents were home.

After the episode ended with the longest ending credits Chad had ever seen, he grinned. ‘Are there any other animes like that?’

‘Anime. It’s the same whether it’s plural or singular.’

‘Oh. Okay…’

When Chad’s voice drifted off, Noah’s eyes widened and he crossed his arms with his phone still in one hand.

‘Sorry for talking so much about this kind of thing.’

How did Chad respond? By ruffling Noah’s already messy hair, of course! Yes, he managed to shock himself with his own actions.

‘Don’t worry too much about it, man. Keep going if you want. I’m probably not going to come up with any ideas, so I may as well make some use out of today.’

‘I can leave if you want-’

‘I said it’s fine. Come on, tell me about these lesbians.’ Chad laughed with his mouth closed. ‘Honestly, the words that come out of my mouth sometimes.’

Noah uncrossed his arms. ‘Well, uh, they’re not technically a lesbian couple or anything. They’re just friends. I just ship them.’

Chad stroked his chin like before. ‘Do girls grab their friends’ boobs? Or is that just a Japanese thing? Fascinating.’

Noah’s eyes narrowed. ‘Shut up.’

‘So what do you mean by ‘ship’?’

Noah talked about anime for a solid two hours, with Chad only interrupting to ask questions. After that, Chad’s mother knocked on the door and suggested that he start doing homework.

Noah left the house with a little smile, though by the time he had reached his computer, that smile on his face was replaced with a furnace within his blood vessels.

He posted to Incels.me.

Anicel1919- [Venting] Was invited to a Chad’s house. I want to die.

He was so smug, acting like he’s actually interested in learning about anime. As if. He’ll forget about me once he gets back to banging femoids. I don’t think I can take being around a solid 9/10. Honestly, if it weren’t for that pimple on his nose, he’d be a 10. And I bet he’s going to end up saying, ‘Don’t worry, bruh, just lift like me and you’ll get all the pussy you want,’ or, ‘just change your personality and everything will be fine!’ It’s too soon to tell, but he strikes me as totally bluepilled. What do I do if he keeps asking me to hang out with him?

#chad vs incel #chad x incel #bisexual #incel #romance #drama #original fiction #breaking stereotypes #lesbian #Chad and the Incel

1 note · View note

echoesofcanons · 7 years

Text

Fuck Father’s Day

I want to talk about Father’s Day. I did this two years ago on a different site. Apparently every few years I need to write this out. That’s fine. It’s a lot better than living it. My father hit me when I was a kid. Not spankings; though I’m against those as a parenting technique, that’s not what I’m talking about here. I mean he hit me like I was a grown man in the military when I was a small girl of 9. A short list of the worst stuff is pretty awful, but just recall as you read that this doesn’t cover a tenth of what he did. He picked me up and threw me so hard into a bookcase that I bounced off and still had enough force to go through my closet door. It dislocated my shoulder. He punched me in the chest so hard I fell onto the ground. It hurt for a week. He kicked me while I was running up the steps away from him; it was a kick so forceful that it lifted me two steps, where I again sprawled on the ground. I had trouble sitting down in school for a while after that. I can’t count the number of times he slapped me upside the head. He threw a wrench at me twice, once at my legs (I think that one was throwing it aside in anger and he didn’t mean to hit me, but no pass on that) and once at my head. He missed both times. Sometimes I wish it had hit me. Then I’d at least have a scar to point to. Then I think about traumatic head injuries and shudder; no, I don’t wish it had hit me after all. Thinking on that makes me think about how close he came to doing that, and I get angry and afraid and depressed all over again. This is to say nothing of the emotional abuse, the racism, homophobia, misogyny and transphobia I endured on a constant basis. It says nothing of the times he threatened to kill me with the words “I brought you into this world, and I can take you out.” (It’s a Bill Cosby quote.Bill Cosby was thought of as a parenting role model for a long time. I never liked Cosby growing up. I didn’t know anything about him being a rapist. I just knew my Dad liked him and that he joked about killing his son on the show.) Threatening to throw me out of the house to live on my own was so mild by comparison that it didn’t even register as abuse until much, much later. He never hit my younger brother or my even younger sister. He was disgusting about women and weight, so both of them got plenty of abuse of their own, but no on else got hit. Into that reality, I realized around 10 or 11 that I wanted to be a woman. Not exactly that, at the time; I just knew I identified more with female characters, and I wanted to dress in women’s clothes. I thought I was sick. Being raised in a Catholic family can do that to you. You think their sickness and vileness in hating people they’ve never met is yours, because it’s all you know.

Even if we’d been atheists, though, my father’s rage towards me combined with his sexualization of every female comic book, cartoon, and novel character I was interested in who was female made me terrified. He was hitting me already. What would hitting look like combined with sexualizing? I didn’t know. I thought maybe rape. What he did was awful; what I imagined he would do, as a creative young woman and a writer fully capable of imagining the worst, was even more terrifying.

When I first started sleeping with a man, in what I thought was a gay relationship but was, counter to my then limited understanding, a straight one, I insisted we keep it quiet from my both of my parents. I meant my father. I was worried he’d hurt me. Worse, I was worried he’d hurt the guy fucking me. Even though that guy was a rich asshole who used, hid, and shamed me, he didn’t deserve my father’s fury. No one did. But I got it. I hadn’t worried when I’d slept with a woman for the first time a few months before that. I didn’t tell him about that either, but that was because I couldn’t bear to hear him talk about it. I couldn’t bear that he would be proud of me, but for all the wrong reasons. It would dirty what she and I had shared. Again, that was a gay sexual experience. I couldn’t even frame it that way. The idea of being a woman, of being who I really was? That was unthinkable. That was too dangerous to even contemplate. So I didn’t.

I don’t talk to him anymore. I held back from considering transitioning until I was 30. That’s the year I realized I was holding back in part because I was afraid of my father. He’d only stopped hitting me when I’d started working out and getting into sports my junior year of high school. When I shoved him back and was clearly ready to punch him at 16, he backed down and never did it again. He was an ex Marine, so I don’t think it was fear. I think he wanted to get some sort of manliness check out of me, perhaps, or was such a bully that he instinctively backed off people who were strong enough to stand up for themselves. Or maybe he was just a coward, and I’m even now giving him credit where it isn’t due. My ex-wife was just like him. I fell into the abuse trap so many childhood abuse survivors do, clinging to a new abuser to escape the old one. She was an abuse survivor too, if she was telling me the truth. It’s hard to tell; she lied about so much, most of which I didn’t find out about until leaving her. I think she was, though. The types of abuse she faced matched her abusive behaviors. He was bad; she was worse. He was an idiot at least, and I knew he was wrong. She hid things so she could shame me for my mental health. Where his abuse was blatant, hers came with the promise that only she would ever love me so much. Where he was violent in rage, she hit me while she was laughing. Where he drove others away, she brought them into the abuse and made mocking me a fun game for others. She gaslit me terribly, so that I still have panic attacks when I lose my keys for a moment because of all the times she would hide my things right before work, or a trip to my family, or interviews, then harangue me about my lapses. Maybe worst of all, she used the fact that I’d shared my deepest secret with her, that I was a woman or at least liked dressing as one, to manipulate me through fear and shame. I escaped her the same year I cut off contact with him. It was one of the hardest years of my life. I had no job, as I’d been fired for coming out as potentially transitioning soon at work under the pretense of it being for forgetting to call a customer back. It was a crucible of a year. I had a screaming match with my father and mother, walked out on both of them at my brother’s graduation from basic training, and took a year away before speaking to my Mom again after she profusely apologized, acknowledged his abuse, and promised to work on our relationship from the understanding that she had failed to protect me. I’m 34 now. It took me two years after my ex to feel certain enough in myself to transition. I’m two years into electrolysis and a year and a half into HRT. I’ve been mildly assaulted on the street three times, four if you count the old woman who tried to spit on me. I get stared at constantly. People routinely talk about how they’d kill a trans woman, or hurt her, when I’m on the bus. Having a beard and breasts is not something people are willing to let slide. Every time it happens--every damn time--I flash back to my father. I don’t think these people realize how lucky they are that I’ve embraced nonviolence. It wasn’t out of lack of capacity or skill; having an abusive father like mine has meant knowing how to fight lethally while other people were still posturing and swelling their chests. No, it’s not lack of capacity. It was and is a conscious ethical choice. I’ve chosen to turn my father’s violence, his pain and suffering from his own abusive father, inwards on myself rather than ever let it escape and hurt someone else. Just learning to stand up for myself without the violence he always used has been a trial. I always want to please everyone, and when I’m upset or hurt I either cringe or have to walk away. I’m forever bowing and scraping. I often hate who I am. I often think I’m a violent monster at heart. I try hard to remember that’s his voice, his hate. Father’s Day is a shitty day for me. It’s a shitty day for a lot of people who had abusive men in their lives who dared to call themselves “dad.” If you’re out there reading this and you’re remembering similar terror and pain from a man who was supposed to be your protector and parent, your guardian and loving father, I’m sorry. He might never say it, but I will. I’m so sorry you suffered and you deserved better. So did I. So does everyone with an abusive father. If you’re in it now, please know that it can get better. Please hold on. Don’t kill yourself. I thought about it constantly in those years, and I still do, but I held on and it did get better. It’s still getting better. It’s not that your pain isn’t enough to make death a desirable alternative. It is. It’s that such pain isn’t eternal, and you will be able to escape it if you can just hold on. Please do. It gets better. I’m a happier person today. I’m in several romantic poly relationships with people who treat me with dignity, respect, and gentleness. One of them has been going on for five years now. I have good friends, and I’ve never been closer with several members of my family. My dad isn’t one of them. So fuck Father’s Day. Today’s the day I mourn the life I could have had. Today is the day I hold out hope for those caught in situations like mine. Most of all, today is the day I remember that I was and am a woman strong enough to survive everything he did to me as a little girl, and to still have compassion for the pain he suffered to turn him in to what he was. Compassion doesn’t mean forgetting or forgiveness, but I’m damn proud that I don’t think he’s a monster. He just acted like one. Fuck Father’s Day. Heal where and when you can. Escape when you’re able. Know that you’re worthy of love and affection that isn’t coerced through fear and violence.You’re stronger than he’ll ever be, and you’re beautiful and brave in a way no one who hasn’t suffered like you will ever understand.

1 note · View note

dakotajoyce-blog · 7 years

Text

Something I’m writing for class. Pretty ok with this thus far.

I remember I conversation I had with Katie Rain Hill, author of Rethinking Normal, at the Philadelphia Trans* Health Conference in June 2016. I had been on the anti-androgen spironolactone for several months, though my life was a protracted state of baited breath. Cross-sex hormones were, after some tumult, perched upon the same horizon that bore the tragedies at the Pulse Nightclub just two sun rises away, hanging above our world like an axe to fall. Katie had given a presentation on young people coming to terms with their gender identity, and the necessary steps a person should take in accordance with the WPATH standards of care. “I don’t know, it has a lot of issues,” I explained after she spoke, “Gatekeeping is a definite problem, at least in my experience.” Our conversation was brief, but I clearly conveyed my stance on the WPATH, that I thought it was a gatekeeping mess, and needed to be revised--I was angry, but I felt justified in my frustration.

In its seventh edition, the standards cover a general guideline by which an interdisciplinary team of medical and mental professionals health work in tandem to facilitate the safest and most tailored treatment options for trans* person’s specific situation. The contemporary goals of these standards aim to hone a delivery method by which these teams have access to the most up to date information they need by promoting LGBTQ+ leadership councils and education curriculums across North America, like HEALE and The TRANS Pulse Project in Ontario.

“I question whether or not your experiences are normative,” my gender therapist explained in the Spring of 2016 “we’ll give it some time, two, perhaps three months, just to make sure. Just to make sure that you’re really transgender.” Back then my world was a black market, where gut-sinking betrayal was the currency paid to gained an understanding of my place in the American medical, political, and social cosmos. I could no more emulate my icons and heroes than identify them but even then, amidst my disorientation, I knew that this was wrong. And I could infer from my own experience in supports groups like PFLAG and PRIDE that I was not alone this injustice. I was bribed with hormones to begin presenting early, professional neglect transmuted into social stigma.

Fleshy chunks of my body had been amputated, invaluable sinews of time frayed from the fabric of my life. The words choked the air around me, a brutal fist that formed then convulsed within my throat as I slipped out from the office, unable or unwilling to give myself permission to let their aftermath pour down my face until halfway to the car. A mental health professional who said she followed the WPATH, quoted it at me even, tortured its letters into a razor and honed her blade with professional clout. For a time it was easy to go straight to the heart and blame WPATH. The causality seemed obvious.

As I learned of the standard’s limitations, my anxiety swelled. Summer days spent cat sitting were overcast with mulling over textbooks and memoirs; Trans Bodies, Trans Selves, Becoming Nicole, and Rethinking Normal affirmed and cast doubt. Transitioning seemed easy, institutions framed as a support network, not a blade that cuts and sculpts your body in the image of time. I learned that the WPATH are guidelines, protective suggestions, soft waves upon fair soil for some, but an insurmountable seaside cliff for many. I merely waded in its sea--we must never forget those individuals whom its depths have consumed. Ta-Nehisi Coates writes in his memoir Between the World in Me that a metric of oppression is the time that we have lost. He is not speaking about trans* people in these passages, but I couldn’t help but feel as though he is speaking to me to some extent. How do I perceive myself pre-transition? Usually it feels like a different life, a different person--I share those memories, but it’s hard to associate myself with them. Can I find purpose in time that I consider, to some extent, lost? I think there is a strength that is required to do so; one that I do not yet posses. While the guidelines have improved, we must remember its failings; though improved, we must be aware of the problems with the delivery methods by which trans* individuals receive treatment.

Education and LGBTQ+ leadership groups can only appeal to a specific demographic of practitioners, which is to say someone who has empathy for trans* lives. But the unwillingness that many practitioners have for the treatment of trans* people is often drawn from the same well that results in evasiveness around curriculums like HEALE. To completely address the gross inadequacies of trans* healthcare, we must first understand that the scars we receive, be the blade one of time, overt violence to the body and psyche, or the suppression of authenticity are the interlinked accumulation of the cultural and political acceptance of transphobia, systemic racism, classism, homophobia and misogyny. Politicians speak of us as though we are predators, so they deny us the right to exist within public space. I have seen Milo Yiannopoulos stomp his voice upon our downtrodden bodies just as I have seen Jon Stewart bleed his morals dry for quick laugh. We are not damaged until you make us so.

Bill Maher has couched our rights, our lives, and our bodies as a “boutique issue” worthy of attention at some nebulously defined future where artificial logistics supersede moral responsibility. Transphobia may not render overt hatred, but the ability to row through its channels and arrive at the same destination. Because our pain is less, because we are less human. Because the agony I’ve felt as teeth burrowed into flesh, or hands ripped hair from its roots is different than yours; perhaps because these were isolated instances, or because it was my choice to do so.

Transphobia translates the scars etched upon our bodies as textual evidence of our inhumanity. Too young, for the decision is cannot be yours to make. Too old, and you’re inauthentic. Our flesh is woven by whomever seamstress wields the sinews of our time--be she cruel or fair, a seamstress she remains, imbued with the potential for negligent concern, overt hatred, and genuine empathy. I’ve found the path of least resistance leads to accepting their lies, and as we are human, so too do we err. Consciously or not, I have looked in the mirror and seen a young man as often as I have seen a woman's eyes pierce my own. I have been asked by therapists if I experience dysphoria, and my answers reflected what they wanted to hear; but can I know for sure--do I feel the same as conceptualized others this person is comparing me to? I knew that I hated the person whose image mocked my own, and I knew that certain clothing dispelled, to a small degree, my discomfort. But do I measure up? No, no. Listen to me.

I have been reified, categorized, sized and compared. But empathy comes first from listening. Anita Sarkeesian, whose work to address, compile, and expose sexism within video game and online spaces writes “The most radical thing you can do is actually believe women when they talk about their experiences”. She is not referring to medical procedure, nor should her comments be taken that way. But our treatment must be laid upon a bedrock of empathy if we are to be seen as human, complete and whole and beautiful.

1 note · View note