buruudokoniiru

[goobigii]

hey guys don't you think it's soooo super duper interesting that luigi was a female octoling.

[simp-ly-writes]

Boss & Bothered

Pairing: Boss!Spencer Agnew x assistant!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: Spencer is your boss to a degree and you spent a large majority of time by his side that you begin thinking things about your boss an employee really should not be considering...

─ · · TAGS: gender-neutral pronouns, boss/employee relationship, creepy man, harassment, protective!spencer, implied offscreen- VERY suggestive themes, kissing.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 2,708

─ · · A/N: thank you for the ask, anon! 🫶 and if you know me personally, out of all the things you read, please don't read this one, I went into a different world while writing this... hahaha erm...

─────── · ·

You had a crush on your boss. As the assistant to the Smosh Games channel you spent almost every moment by his side and there was not a single odd task you had not done; like running to the thrift store to get ten red shirts or to the corner store when the kickstarter and assorted energy drinks were out of stock in the kitchen.

You loved you job and truly loved working beside Spencer and you did not know at what point when those friendly stares and touches had become romanticized in your head. From him always opening the door for you or reminding you to take a break (or another one), he never once took all the extra work you did around the studio for granted and maybe that was a cause for the rose-tinted glasses.

Yet when he would bring your favourite coffee order in the morning even when you had said every time that that was your part of the job, he would just wave a hand in your face, assuring you before walking over to his desk- his schedule for the day already printed (and colour-coded, obvriously) so that the day would move smoothly.

Yet even when the day did not, Spencer never snapped or showed any anger towards you. Still being the caring and understanding boss you knew him to be, boss, you remind yourself. Yet you both acted past your positions, you had met his friends outside of work, went out for drinks with him at the end of a long day and even had dinner at his place one time (or maybe it was two times? three times? cant be more than four times?).

But that was just it right? You were both friendly co-workers. Or well, boss and worker but Spencer never held his position above your own, or at least not when it was important. He would pull the boss card as a joke every now and then off-camera that you feigned annoyance to much to the enjoyment of everyone else who loved his on-going joke around the office. A joke was all this is, just some lighthearted teasing when he puts a fleeting hand on my shoulder to ensure I know it is a joke.

But that all seemed to change when a developer from a gaming studio came in to demo the game alongside the cast. Spencer would be starring in this video, you sat behind camera, ready and waiting with his phone and can of kickstarter as you sorted through emails on your tablet, unknowing to the presence beside you.

"Hey, do you know where the director is? I have a tight schedule to be on since I... need... to... be..." his words slowed as the sentence progressed before falling off completely as the developer look at you. His mouth slightly agape before quickly fixing his hair and jaw. Looking up from your tablet, shutting it off quickly as to not give away company secrets, you presented a friendly smile to the individual. "Sorry, could you repeat your question please? I was a little bit tied up on these emails," you say, tapping your fingers against the metal device to exaggerate your point.

"Oh, um, haha, yeah, I was-a looking for the director. Do you know where he is, love?" you cringe automatically at the nickname, leaning slightly away in your chair as you look around the room quickly trying to find Alex Tran. You begin to cringe up your spine, contracting into yourself when the developer takes a half step closer to your chair, you can hear his breathing in your ear that has your smile twitching before you stand to present more space between the two of you.

"I don't see him here at the moment, we are also shooting another video the next studio over. I'm sure as soon as the cast is done there in..." you click on Spencers phone to see the time, "...in 10 minutes. Do you have everything you need to run the software or is there anything else I can get you in the meanwhile?" you ask politely, hands gripping your tablet as the man smiles.

"Alright, thats okay, that you for letting me know. I could really go for a coffee if its not a hassle? Maybe I could also add my number-" you take a big sigh out in relief once hearing the door to the studio open. Alex, Spencer, Courtney, Amanda and Trevor all filing in one by one. Your eyes meet Spencer's as he pauses his conversation with Trevor, eyebrow raised in question as you tip your head towards the developer that stands back by your side.

Spencer's brows furrow as he walks over to you, a smile plastering itself against his features as he steps in between the two of you, extending his hand as a physical barrier. "Hi, Tyler is it? I'm Spencer the head of this channel and Alex over there will be directing the video. Apologies for the delay, Trevor, Courtney, and Amanda were all finishing a shoot. I hope you understand?" Spencer clarifies, pointing at everyone he mentions, tone leaving no rude for argument.

"Yes, this lovely sir/miss, told me. I never got your name sweetheart-" Spencer coughs, his shoulders tense as he looks over his shoulder at you, "Could you go check in with Alex and see if he's doing alright? I can see the set up from here," Spencer pulls his boss tone at you for the first time without a joke or fault and all you can do is nod, pivot on your heel and walk towards Alex.

"Everything alright there, superstar?" Alex teases. Supserstar, that's what the Games department staff called you, seeing you run around like a shooting star while managing a thousand jobs in one with grace, simply put a superstar and you were gracious for the name as you nod at Alex. "Yeah, a lot better now, he was... very friendly." You choose your words carefully, knowing that the developers team is sponsoring todays video and fuelling your pay check.

"Mhmm," Alex hums out, carefully watching Spencer speak with the developer. The passive aggressive undertone is a surprise to everyone in the room from how friendly Spencer usually was. "Spencer really seems worked up, did something happen during the last shoot?" You ask, refusing to turn yourself back around before the cameras roll.

"No, he actually ended up successfully losing Don't Win Mario Kart but I think this is a more recent than that thing, what exactly did the guy say to you?"

"Oh, well he was... nice. Just like I said, a bit too friendly for me upon first meeting. Kept calling me pet names and stuff like that, didn't get handsy or anything, must be a cultural thing," you say before subconsciously taking a drink from the open Kickstarter can without a second thought. "Makes sense then," Alex shrugs before walking over to the filming crew as you follow behind and sit back in your chair. "What makes sense then?" you wish to clarify yet receive no answer except a presence by your side.

"Hey, you doing okay? I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier to help," Spencer comments, taking his phone and drink from your hands with a tight smile that does not seem to reach his eyes. "Yeah, thank you handling it. I didn't want to seem rude to him-" you begin to clarify to your boss who cuts you off. "You did nothing wrong, you did everything right. I sorted out the rest, THAT shouldn't happen again," Spencer points out strongly before taking a sip of Kickstart.

"Oh," is all you manage to get out before Alex calls the cast to their positions and you open your tablet again and move back to those emails only to find your mind drifting, cheeks warming at Spencers protective display...but any other boss would do that right? Protect their employees from clients... and what about what Alex said earlier too...

Your thoughts are a whirlwind as you mindlessly reply to email after email and fix everyones schedules before sending them out for tomorrow morning. The cameras are still rolling as you fix yourself in your chair, trying to become more comfortable for only a five minute break to be called and you are standing up in an instant to update Spencer on all the new information you received.

Spencer stands right beside you, leaning against your chair, can in between his hands and glasses slipping down his nose as he watches you intently rambling on and on about the tight schedule him and Alex had after this shoot to maintain while also taking a dinner break. Yet what caught you off guard was how comfortable you felt being so close to him, your arms touching every time you breathed, his gaze so trained onto you that it held you confused as to why you reacted to negatively to the man before. Slowly looking over to Alex who was already looking between the two of you with a knowing smile.

─────── · ·

Since then the dynamic had changed in the office, or at least between you and Spencer. You both were closer (if that was thought possible by the rest of the staff), so close in fact that you both were called into Ian, Anthonys, and HR's office that morning.

"Hey guys," Ian greeted, albeit a bt awkwardly as he looked between the two of you. Anthony offered a wave from behind the desk as well, it felt as is your parents were sitting you down for a talk, your cheeks painted pink as you looked at Spencer to only find support as he shrugged and leaned in saying, "Seems like we are the ones in trouble for once, what are we going to do superstar?"

And all you can do his shove him away playfully, refusing to look at Ian and Anthony as soon as papers came onto the table. "So... before we get started. You both have been doing amazing work, both together and a part but this is not a promotional meeting," Ian began before Anthony took over, they seemed to have rehearsed this...

"We are, as well as HR, who deemed that it might be easier to talk to us that you two are potentially seeing each other, and there is nothing wrong with that! We just need to know if you need to swap departments," Anthony says looking at you. You rapidly shake your head, laughing away the sweat that is building on your palms, rubbing them on your pant legs now refusing to look at Spencer, nervous that the crush you had been harbouring for some time now was being forced into the light.

Spencer also appeared to be refusing to look in your direction as well, stuck in a starring contest with Ian as the room laid in wait before Spencer spoke up, "We are not, formally, seeing one another, though I do enjoy spending time with them outside of work, as I hope they do too?'

"Yes, of course I do. I don't see you as my boss when we sit and eat out like that Spence," you mention to only received a raised brow that has your eyes widening at your word choice... should've just said outside of work, stupid, stupid, stupid.

Your cheeks have never burned so hard, your nails digging into your pant leg only for a hand to rest on top of them, easing you to relax. And by trailing your eye up to a tattooed arm that you would kill to colour in, you stop dead in your tracks at the hint of a smile on Spencers lips before you both are dismissed without signing a singular paper (or at least yet, you hope).

"Only at dinner, huh?" Spencer presses as soon as the door closes but you keep on walking in front of him as he jogs in front of you, causing you to pause in your steps. The cubicles are now all left empty as everyone has left for lunch, you two are the only ones in this way to large of a room, yet it does not seem large enough for the conversation you are about to unpack.

"... what do you want me to say, Spencer?" you press back, dodging the question successfully for a round as Spencer takes a step back, hands raising slightly from his sides. "I'm just curious where else I would be your boss outside of work if dinners are the only thing that counts..."

"Spencer!" you whisper shout, mind already going into the nooks and crannies you did your best to hide. You looked around but had not yet felt uncomfortable by the converssation, only the unbearable heat starting to crawl up your skin as his harm drapes itself over his forehead. His buttoned shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and his signature leather boots creak as he shifts his weight. He seems as bothered as you are right now... as he cannot stand still....

"Oh... I see now," Spencer begins, his low tone has you moving closer to grasp onto his next words, your heart races, your brain a bit fuzzy but you don't feel nervousness or the least bit scared. In fact, you feel freer than ever in this moment, unloading what you desperately tried to hide for so long. "...where else do you hear my voice telling you what to do outside of work?" Spencer continues, keeping his tone even as you meet eyes catching a flickering of surface level genuine curiosity mixed with something, deeper, almost hidden...

You gasp, Spencer tilts his head, putting that little sound to memory as he waits for you to take the next step closer and you invite yourself to. You can feel the heat coming from his body, you both stand so close, you chests brushing up against one another, your breath hitching as he fixes his hair while staring at you. "Spencer..." your voice worries yet comes off as a whine, "What?" Spencer asks softly, still allowing you control that has you really questioning of going back inside that office and signing those damn papers.

"We can't do this right now, here in the office, please," you manage to get out behind your brain imagining every scenario where you press him up against a white wall and not kiss him all over to you both are breathless. "But outside?" Spencer asks once more, "Outside of dinner?" Spencer presses further as you only nod once, "yeah, outside," you confirm before taking a step back as he does the same, swallowing harshly and playing with his hair once more.

"Okay then," Spencer confirms.

"Okay then," you copy and for the remaining day in the office. You are sitting awkwardly in chairs, fingers aching to put your digital signature to the e-document as you keep sneaking glances at one another. It does not help when his phone buzzes in your lap that has you startling upright during the end of a shoot (thankfully).

The car ride back was even more tense, you both car-pooled often, living in the same building but watching him out of the corner of your eye as you changed the stick-shift, his arm, showing off his inner arm tattoos came to close to your hand, just teasing its way to your leg, you quickly parked, feeling that you were squirming in your chair, utterly restless.

─────── · ·

You both barely managed to get into the apartment and lock the door before your hands were on one another, breaths equally catching and being saved. Spencer groaned against your touch as you fell weak at the knees and fell back onto the couch where he met you and watching his cage you in, leaning in closer and closer, the documents lingered on your mind that had you presses your hands to his chest.

Spencer immediately stood up, "You doing alright, darling? Did I do something wrong?" your heart raced even more. "We, I- need to sign those papers right now before we continue..." you point between the two of you, intently looking up at his pink lips, "...this," you breathe out as Spencer sits down on the coffee table, feeling around for his phone as you both scramble to put your e-signatures on while also claiming sick leave... for you both would not be showing up tomorrow morning either once feeling his lips and the caress of his skin against your own.

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: 😮‍💨 whew... umm... No Part 2's on this one! (sorry)

─ · · SPENCER AGNEW TAGLIST: @lisiliely @missflufffanfics @little-stitious-studios @thejourneyneverendsx @sibsteria @lizzylynch1 @babble2 @delaneyburghardt

[busket]

I've been seeing posts discussing the terms MTF and FTM saying stuff like "that's how cis people understand our experience, not trans people" or "what do you mean female to male, I've never been female" and I think that's a totally valid stance to have, but I take issue with the implication that those terms should be done away with entirely and that no one can relate to them.

personally, I do believe I was a woman before I transitioned. I lived as a woman, I believed I was a woman, I told people I was a woman. I did all the same when I came out as nonbinary, and I do all the same now that im a man. I don't consider these stages in my life to be any less real. Just because I'm a man now doesn't mean I wasn't a woman then, and just because i was a woman then doesn't make me any less of a man now. I don't relate to the notion that I have a true gender, inherent to my soul. maybe someday I won't be a man, and that's okay. this is all my own life, something that only I know for myself.

honestly I wonder if some trans people feel the need to say "I was never my birth gender" to validate their experience to cis people. you can't be a faker if you've known this all your life. but some trans people, like me, do not share that experience. I doubted if I was a trans man because I didn't relate to it. I find more truth in the term "ftm" than I do to "afab" because the latter defines me now by something that happened to me at my birth, and not an active process I am undergoing and a set of choices I've made to bring joy into my life.

and truly we will never find a set of terms that resonates with everyone, because every single person has a different experience with their gender and not one is more or less correct than another. I'm no less of a man than a trans man who knew all his life he was a man and we are both no less men than a cis man who was born a man and lived his whole life as a man. everyone is different and everyone is going to find truth in different acronyms, and some of us just simply aren't meant to be defined.

[velvetvexations]

I think my Rocky Horror Picture Show experience is definitely very much so affected by having seen a live production instead of the movie first. Most of the cast and crew were transgender, all were some form of queer, and it was one of the first times in my life I was in a space that was majority queer adults. It was the first time I felt comfortable using a public men's bathroom. After having also seen the movie, I don't think I would have had as great an experience with Rocky Horror if I had just seen the movie first, there's something different about seeing it as a live theater production.

oh tho I would like to add, re: my last ask, that I did have an irl friend who had suffered from a LOT of internalized queerphobia and been in the closet, who came out as bi because of the Rocky Horror Picture Show. So the movie has def done that for some people, and that probably saved them from going down a really bad path of alt-right radicalization given what they'd been watching before coming out

I've seen people moan about the poor trans women who sit in discomfort while all their other queer friends laugh at the transmisogyny, and man, I think that just speaks so much to how sheltered people are nowadays because it's like, oh, is this cis guy playing a villainous pervert singing about being a transvestite from Transexual, Transylvania doing you a transmisogyny? Because he was an icon to each and every trans and GNC person that existed, especially AMAB folk, back when it was essentially legal to hunt us for sport in some places.

No, seriously, that's not hyperbole. I mean that literally.

And it's like...call Rocky Horror dated. Sure. It's dated. But acknowledge that every trans woman who currently has gray hair, not to mention the ones who didn't make it, stood up and shouted all the incredibly lame and unfunny jokes with joy that I will never be able to comprehend as humor but can certainly understand as a matter of community and representation.

[iraprince]

I love the entire concept of Cookie... the look, the fashion, the gender... Would you mind telling us a little more about him? I'm also intrigued about why she's named Cooking with Gorgeous!

HI i would LOVE to talk about george thank you so much. also this makes me realize i've never actually sat down and just made a post unabashedly infodumping at length abt an oc before and it seems silly that i haven't. i ask only for all dear readers to please temper their expectations for this post with the knowledge that i just smoked half a joint before sitting down to answer it. a small one. but still. anyway

FIRST OF ALL FOR THE UNACQUAINTED THIS IS COOKING WITH GORGEOUS, aka cookie or george for short. he uses he/him and she/her pronouns interchangeably!

hi sorry that's not cookie that's a horse in a bridal veil that i. found in my stuff while trying to scroll and find my cookie art. i just got distracted and had to show you. okay no for real here's cookie

he's the character i'm playing in a playtest campaign of the absolutely mesmerizing sapphicworld, an in-development ttrpg!!! and if i'm going to be talking about cookie i feel like i HAVE to say i think a huge amount of her charm and dazzle and charisma comes directly from the charm and dazzle and charisma of the setting i created her for. i know i am laying it on really thick right now but that is on purpose. i want, desperately and unashamedly, for this game to get really popular bc 1. it's genuinely that good. and it's not even DONE yet and 2. i want everyone to get into it so that everyone will make sapphicworld characters and then i'll get to see everyone's sapphicworld characters.

EDIT i'm scrolling back up here and adding a readmore bc this is already getting so long lol. you asked for "a little more" and apparently i have graciously decided this means "literally every fact about cookie that exists in my brain"

SO a lot of the info/tidbits i haven't shared about cookie are i guess gameplay-specific stuff... his title (which is like a class/playbook) is "The Noble Sweetheart," though in sapphicworld "nobility" no longer has anything to do with wealth or class, and is instead entirely about amassing a court purely via devotion/popularity; her subculture (which is like, Who You Hang Out With; drifters, goths, poets, debauchers, cowpokes, etc) is Babe; and her kind (which is like ancestries but in sapphicworld is really just like, a physical form, which u can change more or less at will) is Lunarthrope, which is basically a werewolf!! or more broadly a furry, since u always look like whatever were-animal you are 24/7. just MORE at night, tho i suppose i don't represent that aspect much in my cookie art... ANYWAY i am restraining myself from just sitting here and like. transcribing her entire character sheet. but basically what all this means is that cookie's role in the world (at least at the beginning of the campaign) is "Professionally — no, VOCATIONALLY Hot Person who everyone loves so so so so so so much." cookie really enjoys this role.

he's named cooking with gorgeous because he's an avid cook, and he wants to share that with you, and he's gorgeous!! though honestly the cooking hasn't ended up as important to his character as it was when i first came up with him, lol — but my initial concept was kind of like, what's the equivalent of a bouncy normie recipe blogger/lifestyle influencer but in the context of the lush horny trans deathless psychedelic universe of sapphicworld. and it's cooking with gorgeous, a doggirl dyke with big blue boobs (six of them!!) who is so devastatingly cute and darling that a bunch of people just kind of pledge their fealty to him for no real reason other than he feeds them. and is cute

also her name is def influenced by the fantastic names of many canon sapphicworld npcs! like, quick example list of some npc names off the top of my head: the booty commie, death cybernetic, princess eureka!, the culinary goof (whom cookie dislikes. btw.), pizza friday (whom cookie loves!!!)

cookie is very very determined, and she's ALMOST always very confident. even when she isn't feeling confident, she's still very good at forcing herself to keep putting one foot in front of the other — maybe just while screaming or crying or uncontrollably barking or at least very ardently complaining. he has a tendency to be spoiled and, like, tactless-via-obliviousness, so sometimes he can be grating to interact with, and he has a petty/vindictive streak; but in general he's an AGGRESSIVELY kind person and usually aims all his shrill, cheerful stubbornness directly toward the goal of refusing to accept anything but the best for everyone.

at the beginning of our campaign cookie has JUST received a brand new castle!!!! (chateau gorgeous.) which he doesn't actually "own" bc, remember, no wealth or class in sapphicworld, but he's the ENTHUSIASTIC new caretaker and is chomping at the bit to renovate it so ppl can live there and he can throw a bunch of magnificent parties and basically continue living exactly as he has been, But Even More Fabulous. obviously this is exactly when the main plot threat of the campaign shows up and spoils everything and compels cookie to go on his First Ever Adventure!!!!!! she HAS to save the world otherwise NOBODY will be able to go to the first big party at chateau gorgeous :((((

at this point to prevent myself from just like, giving you guys a play by play of the entire campaign so far i am going to just start listing every cookie fact i can think of as bullet points

🎀 he owns a magical sword in the shape of a giant microplane. it's called The Microplane. he pronounces this "mee-crow-plah-nay"

🎀 george desperately wants to resurrect The Dog-Lich, an entity that once ruled over all beasts from its palace on the moon but was murdered and torn to pieces in a cosmic war far in the past. her attitude towards this desire is 50% devoted lunar cultist, 50% parasocially obsessive twitter stan

🎀 this isn't really a cookie fact but going back to how his title is The Noble Sweetheart — just for a glimpse at party composition, his fellow party members' titles are The Intimate Scholar, The Tentacle Advocate, and The Tw*nk Controversial (the * is the canon spelling).

^ aforementioned tw*nk. its name is Mwah ("pronounced like the kiss you blow at someone you just fucked over"). mwah is played by @/squiddelyfather on twitter!

🎀 mwah and cookie used to be very, very tight, BEFORE mwah became the tw*nk controversial. now that it's so.... you know.... controversial, well. they're still very close, but it has gotten a little stilted and weird (and watching them slowly un-weird it together as the campaign goes on has been one of my fav roleplay experiences ever honestly)

🎀 cookie's other adventuremates, skarligge and delaryn, are both very indulgent towards him. delaryn acts the most grumpy/dismissive about it but is honestly sometimes the worst about spoiling cookie out of anyone in the party (skarligge's player is twt@/clown_dream and delaryn's is twt@/glaiveguisarme and hey while im at it our fantastic gm is the sapphicworld dev, twt@/ddemoneclipse. hi guys i hope u don't mind me chattering abt ur ocs here lol it's just hard to talk abt the best of cookie w/o bringing up everyone else's characters and roleplay also!!!)

🎀 cookie is very VERY sensitive and will burst into tears at the drop of a hat. the precursor to this is her eyes getting So So So Big And Wet And Round. one of my favorite bits to menace the other party members with is when something is not going cookie's way i will lean into my mic and say "cookie's eyes are getting so so so big. they're getting so big and wet and round and shiny. they're so so round and fucking big her eyes are like big wet black glass marbles" and this is like kryptonite to them. this is like getting hit with deadly radiation

🎀 oh speaking of fashion!!!! one of cookie's perks from being a Babe is that she can always change her look whenever she wants. she will ALWAYS have whatever outfit she needs and can quickchange instantly. wait this reminds me i have a bunch of seasonal holiday outfits sketched out and i don't think i've ever posted them here but it'll only let me put one more image in this post. well here have this one

🎀 okay well suddenly i have forgotten all other george facts so that's all for now!!! from now on i will try to just dump oc facts like this more often tho this is really fun. ty for getting me going lol!!!

[supernaturalscribe67]

T-Shot

Words: 8,204

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: Castiel x Trans!FTM!Reader

Warning(s): Language, Needles, Description of testosterone injection, slight angst if you squint, hurt/comfort, description of afab anatomy (use of the word 'clit' once), fluff, Castiel not understanding social cues

Summary: The reader has started his journey with testosterone, and his boyfriend, Castiel, promises to be with him every step of the way. What Castiel didn't realize was that the testosterone would change (Y/N) more than he realized.

Request:

Hi I was just wondering if you could do a Sam or even Cas fic (romantic) where reader is trans FTM and also asexual. Where the reader starts testosterone and sam or cas helps them with the new changes. You can just have fun with it. Make it a sad a bit too but end with a happy note :)

Anonymous

A/N: Someone please come and take this pen away from me. This fic was only supposed to be, about, 3k words, I don't know how it turned into my longest fic. I hope you guys enjoy! Feedback is much appreciated!

~Much Love!

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

As he descended the bunker steps, the paper bag crinkled in (Y/N)’s hands. It was the best sound he had ever heard in his entire life. For, in that very bag, was the key to achieving everything he had dreamed of and more, allowing him to get one step closer to the person he was destined to be. And it all came in a little glass vial.

(Y/N) looked in the library but found it empty, so he walked down the hallway to his bedroom. His steps were rapid, anxious, yet excited. When he entered, he saw Castiel on his bed, who sat up. The movement of the door startled him, but he was quick to recover. (Y/N) flashed a small smirk his way.

“Hey,” he greeted and closed the door behind him.

“You’re back,” Castiel stated and stood from his spot on the bed. He took a couple of steps closer to him. “How did it go?”

(Y/N) held up the bag. “I got it.” His smile widened.

Castiel matched his grin as he stepped even closer. He reached a hand up to cup (Y/N)’s cheek and gave him a soft peck on the lips. “I’m glad to hear that it went well. When are you scheduled to take your first dose?”

“Well, the doc said I can take it anytime I want to start. I just have to make sure to keep it spread out to a dosage every week. So, today’s, what? Wednesday? I’ll be taking them every Wednesday from now on. Preferably at night. Easier for me to keep track that way.”

Castiel nodded as he listened intently to everything (Y/N) told him. “I see. When will you plan on taking it tonight?” He tilted his head to the side. 

“I was going to wait until after supper, but I’m too excited to wait.”

“May I watch you?”

“Of course, babe,” he said before he walked past Castiel and over to his bed.

(Y/N) sat the bag down before he took his shoes off, kicking them to the side. He then unbuckled his belt and let his jeans fall to the floor with a light clink. He stood in nothing but his boxers and t-shirt. He would have taken his binder off to make himself even more comfortable, but he was so focused on getting the medicine in his body that he didn’t even consider it an inconvenience. As (Y/N) sat on the bed, he beckoned Castiel over and patted the spot next to him. Castiel followed his instructions and sat down, his hands folded between his knees. He watched with great concentration as (Y/N) grabbed the paper bag and ripped it open. Inside the bag was a long, rectangular box, two different sets of needles, four syringes, alcohol wipes, and band-aids. Castiel studied the supplies curiously.

“This is everything I’ll need for the month. I have my testosterone, the bigger needles to extract it, the 23-gauge needles to inject it, syringes, alcohol wipes for sterilizing my skin and the surface of the vial, and cute little cat band-aids for when I’m done.” (Y/N) explained, showing Castiel all of the supplies as he talked.

Castiel paid close attention. He examined everything presented to him, taking in as many details as he could. He picked up the small box and opened it. The vial dropped into his hand when he tilted it to the side. His eyes narrowed as he examined the clear content. As he moved his hand back and forth, he watched the solution swish around inside.

“This is what you put into your body to change yourself?” He asked.

“Yep. It may not seem like much, but once it kicks in, you’ll start to see the differences.”

(Y/N) grabbed the box of alcohol wipes and opened them up. He grabbed two from the pack; one for the injection location and the other for the vial. He set the unopened packs beside him and did the same with one of the band-aids. The needles soon followed, one of each being placed beside him, each of their packages opened to allow easy access when he went to switch them out. Next, was the syringe. It, too, stayed in the sterile plastic, but was opened for easy access. He then turned to Castiel and held out his hand. Castiel carefully placed the vial in his hand, and the process began.

(Y/N) grabbed the syringe and connected the larger needle to the end of it. He set that to the side and grabbed one of the alcohol wipes, ripping the corner of the packet with his teeth. Using the wipe, he cleaned off the top of the vial. He disposed of the wipe and grabbed the needles and syringe. The needle was uncapped, and he could feel the nerves bubble inside of him. He pulled the plunger of the syringe, allowing air to collect inside. The doctor said it would make for a more accurate extraction. With caution and precision, he injected the needle into the cap, tilted the vial upwards, and took out the dosage prescribed. The mere sight of the testosterone dripping into the syringe sent euphoria coursing through his body. 

With the extraction completed, he replaced the needle with the 23-gauge. He took a deep breath to steady himself, took out the other alcohol wipe, and disinfected the area on the top of his thigh. 

“Alright, the moment of truth,” he mumbled.

Using one hand to grasp the flesh of his upper thigh, (Y/N) gently guided the needle to his skin. The initial prick shocked his muscles a bit, as he wasn’t aware of how tense he had been. They were tight, and he knew he had to focus on relaxing them, otherwise it would hurt worse than it was supposed to. He didn’t stop pushing it in until the needle was fully in his thigh, the base of the needle almost flush against his skin. Once it was sheathed inside of him, his thumb shifted to the plunger and he began the injection. It wasn’t much - the doctor explained that the first couple of dosages would be smaller until they got a good sense of how his body was reacting to the medication - but it felt as if it took an eternity before the syringe was empty. When he was done, he, carefully, pulled out the needle. A small dot of blood mixed with testosterone appeared on top of his leg. He capped the needle and set it off to the side before he grabbed the bandage and placed it over the blood. 

He stared at the band-aid for a moment - it came in a cheap pack of twelve and had a blurred image of two kittens cuddling on it - before he looked up at Castiel.

“I did it,” he smiled brightly. “I just got my first t-shot.”

Castiel’s eyes shifted to (Y/N)’s and he mirrored his smile. He took a second to look over his features. Slowly, his expression shifted from joy to slight confusion. “You don’t look different.”

(Y/N) chuckled. “It takes some people a couple of months to notice any physical changes. It’s not magic. Wish it was,” he mumbled. “That’s why I need to do it every week, so it stays in my system and makes the changes.”

“Ah,” Castiel nodded. “Well, I’m proud of you, (Y/N),” he took his hand in his.

(Y/N) furrowed his brows. “For poking myself with a needle?”

Castiel shook his head. “You told me that getting your testosterone was going to be your biggest step in your journey of self-discovery so far. I’m proud that you were brave enough to take this step to become the person you’ve been destined to become.” Castiel reached up and gently cupped (Y/N)’s cheeks.

As cliche as it was, (Y/N) could feel his heart skip a beat. Ever since he told Castiel about wanting to start testosterone, he had been nothing but supportive. He always expressed that he wanted (Y/N) to live the life he wanted to live and that he would be by his side for the best and the worst of it. (Y/N) got lucky enough to have a partner like Castiel. It was as if he came right out of a dream. For that, he would always be grateful.

(Y/N) reached up and brushed his fingers against Castiel’s knuckles. “I love you, forever and always.”

“I love you, too. Forever and always.” Castiel replied, leaned in, and kissed him softly.

*~*

“Holy shit, this pizza is so good,” (Y/N) mumbled as he shoved the rest of the crust into his mouth, stuffing his cheeks full.

Sam and Dean gave him a questioning stare as he ate, their bites slow and methodical compared to his. Castiel, on the other hand, stared at him with an intense look of concern. It had been a little over a month since (Y/N) started testosterone and, while there hadn’t been many noticeable physical changes, there was one thing that everyone took notice of almost immediately; his intense change of appetite. 

Man, could that boy eat.

It wasn’t the fact that he served himself more during meals, either. If he wasn’t eating a meal, he was snacking. He snacked on chips, candy, fruits, vegetables, sandwiches, you name it. Anything that could be placed in a pantry or fridge had been eaten by (Y/N). Dean couldn’t even count on one hand the amount of times he had gotten on him for eating in the car, only to get a stern glare from both him and his boyfriend. Castiel hadn’t been too sure why (Y/N) began to eat as much as he had been. When he asked about it, (Y/N) simply told him that it was because of the testosterone, but didn’t give many details other than that. It left Castiel with a lot of questions that sat in the back of his mind, curious about the other aspects of testosterone that caused non-physical changes to occur.

(Y/N) reached for another slice, hesitated, and then grabbed the last two slices.

“Hungry?” Dean asked with a quirked brow.

“Starving,” (Y/N) mumbled, his mouth still recovering from his last bite.

“Are you sure?” Sam asked. “That’s, at least, your fifth and sixth slices.”

“Sam’s right, (Y/N). You’ve been eating a lot recently. Are you sure you’re alright?” Castiel asked warily, placing a hand on (Y/N)’s knee, rubbing it comfortingly.

(Y/N) chuckled. “I’m fine, babe,” he said, cheekful of food. “It’s just the testosterone. It makes me really, really hungry.”

Castiel flashed him another concerned look, despite the nod and small smile he gave. (Y/N) noticed his hesitancy and he flashed him a closed mouth smile. He placed his hand on top of his, swallowed his food, leaned over, and placed a small peck on the corner of Castiel’s lips. 

“I’m fine, babe, I promise.” He said as he looked into his eyes. 

Castiel studied his expression for a moment before he smiled again, one that was more genuine. “Alright.”

(Y/N) nodded briefly. “Okay, I’m going to the bathroom,” he said before he pointed at Sam and Dean. “Don’t touch my pizza.” The threat dripped from his lips. 

Sam and Dean raised their brows and watched as (Y/N) stood from the table, his eyes still piercing their souls as he left the room. Dean shook his head and took another bite of his food. Castiel glanced over at (Y/N)’s plate, then cast his gaze down to the table. His hands were on his knees, and he rubbed them tightly. Sam, noticing the distraught on his face, cocked his head in curiosity.

“What’s up, Cas?” he asked, placing his food back onto his plate. He folded his arms on the table.

Castiel gazed up at him for a moment before he shook his head. “I’m just worried about (Y/N). He doesn’t normally act like this.”

Sam gave him a sympathetic smile. “It’s a pretty big change, the testosterone. It’s as if he’s going through puberty all over again.”

“Sam’s right,” Dean chimed in, some pizza sauce and spittle peaking out of the corner of his full mouth. “Sammy ate like a pig when he hit puberty.”

“Not helping,” Sam deadpanned. “It’s just a side effect of the drug. It won’t last forever.”

“That’s what he told me, but I didn’t think it would change him like that.”

Sam chuckled. “Trust me, you’ve just scratched the surface of the side effects. It’ll be an interesting journey, to say the least.”

That comment didn’t seem to ease Castiel’s worry, which Sam took notice of. He sighed.

“Tell you what,” he dug into his pocket and took out his phone. “I have a couple of articles regarding the side effects of testosterone. Keep in mind, not everyone goes through the same experience, though, and not in the same order as others, either, but I can send them to you so you can at least have an idea of what (Y/N) could go through.”

Castiel nodded. “Thank you, Sam. That would put my mind at ease.”

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Dean shrugged as he chewed the last bite of his pizza. He brushed the crumbs off of his hands. “So the kid has a bottomless stomach, who cares? The only bad thing about it is that he steals all the damn food! I didn’t even get a chance to have more,” he gestured to the empty, grease-filled pizza box in the center of the table.

Sam rolled his eyes. “You’ll live,” he mumbled.

Dean looked over at (Y/N)’s plate, eying the single intact slice. It was obvious that the gears in his head were turning.

“Dean,” Castiel said in a deep tone of warning.

“What!?” He held out his hands dramatically. “I’m hungry.” Dean paused, eyes still glued on the food. Casually, he reached over and grabbed the uneaten slice. He brought it to his face and was about to take a bite when a loud, booming voice echoed throughout the kitchen.

“Drop it!” (Y/N) shouted.

Dean visibly jumped, eyes wide as he turned to see (Y/N) in the doorway, eyes laced with red fury. He quickly put the pizza back onto (Y/N)’s plate, got up from the table, plate in hand, and walked swiftly over to the sink. Sam snorted and took a bite of his food as (Y/N) stalked over to the table. He glared daggers into the back of Dean’s head. If looks could kill, Dean would have been dead…again. (Y/N) sat back down. 

“Asshole,” (Y/N) grumbled under his breath, picked up one of the slices, and took another bite.

*~*

Every fiber of his being was sore. Grave digging was not for the weak, and that was exactly how (Y/N) felt after the salt and burn. The three of them came out of the hunt with some minor scrapes and bruises that were certain to go away on their own over time. Injury-wise, he was fine, but his muscles screamed in pain and agony as he moved from the Impala to the motel room door. They begged for relief in the arms of a hot shower, but he knew his blessings were limited. The pain, however, wasn’t the only thing he noticed during the aftermath of the hunt. Once the adrenaline wore off and his senses finally came back to him, there was one crucial detail he had failed to take notice of before then.

(Y/N) smelled horrible.

It wasn’t as if he had gotten blood or guts on himself during the hunt. All he did was sweat. He knew there would be some changes in the way his body odor smelled, but, in no way would he have assumed it would be as pungent and foul as it was. He even made sure to layer on the deodorant during his pre-hunt preparation as an extra precaution, but it was all to no avail.

“I call first shower,” (Y/N) said as Dean took the room key out and unlocked the door. “Have I always smelled this bad?”

Dean scoffed. “I was going to offer you the first shower, anyway. You smell awful. I was going to say something earlier, but I figured Sammy would yell at me or something.”

The three of them entered the room, welcomed to the sight of Castiel laid back on his and (Y/N)’s shared bed. He sat up, eyes immediately scanning over their bodies, taking in all of their details for any sign of injury. Sam shook his head and walked over to his duffel bag that lay on the floor next to the opposite bed.

“Yeah, ‘cause you would have probably been a dick about it,” he retorted.

“I would not!” Dean exclaimed as he strode to his bag.

“No, please, be a dick about it. I wanna know for the next time.” (Y/N) shook his head and retrieved some night clothes from his duffel.

“What would Dean have been a dick about?” Castiel asked, head tilted slightly to the side.

“About telling me if I smell.” (Y/N) answered.

Castiel furrowed his brows. “I thought it was considered rude to tell people they smell bad.”

“Yeah, random people. Dean’s my friend, though, and friends help each other like that. They tell you if you smell or look bad to save you from embarrassment in public.”

“Does that apply to myself as well?”

(Y/N) smirked. “Yes, Cas, it does.”

“So, should I inform you of the red and white spots that you have on your face?”

(Y/N)’s smirk vanished and was replaced by a deep frown. Wordlessly, he walked past Castiel and to the bathroom. The dim light illuminated the poorly decorated room, the vent whirring to life. He stood in front of the basin and studied himself in the mirror. Upon closer inspection, (Y/N) gaped. Accompanying the blotches of dirt scattered around his face were red, angry zits. There were some across his cheeks, some on his forehead, and a giant, ready-to-pop whitehead on his chin. Castiel made his way over and placed his hand on the doorframe.

“Is everything alright, (Y/N)?” Castiel asked cautiously.

“No! Everything’s not okay!” (Y/N) whined and squeezed past his boyfriend so he could point an accusatory finger at Sam and Dean. “Some fucking friends you are! First, you don’t tell me that I smell bad, and now I find you didn’t tell me that my face looks like it lost a fight with a pizza!?”

“(Y/N), plenty of adults have acne. I didn’t think it was a big deal,” Sam defended himself.

Dean pursed his lips. “I thought Sam would yell at me.” He shrugged.

Sam shot Dean a glare and (Y/N) sighed.

“I went out as an agent like this.” He complained.

“You look fine,” Sam said.

“Fine? I look like I got out of a five-hour Leave of Legends session and drank Mountain Dew nonstop! That mixed with my voice sounding like I’m going to beg my mom for the new Fortnite Battlepass doesn’t necessarily scream agent.”

Sam and Dean both held in their laughter as they looked away. (Y/N) shook his head. 

“I’m so glad you two find this funny,” he grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest.

Castiel came over and placed a hand gently on his waist. “(Y/N)?”

(Y/N) turned his gaze to Castiel, absentmindedly leaning against him. “Yeah?”

“Despite the marks on your face, I still think you are the most handsome man I have laid eyes on.” He offered a soft, sweet smile.

(Y/N) stared at him and took a deep breath, lips pursed. Slowly, a smile crept onto the corner of his lips.

“You always know what to say to make me feel better.” He said, leaned up, and kissed Castiel on the lips.

“Ew!” Dean exclaimed as he picked up one of his pillows and chucked it at the couple. “Get a room!”

*~*

Another day but, fortunately, not another hunt. It had been a month since the group had been able to rest from the copious amount of cases available, and they were taking advantage of it. They deserved a small vacation. (Y/N) and Castiel spent quality time together in the man cave, curled up on the couch with a blanket draped over their laps. A movie that (Y/N) had practically begged Castiel to watch played on the television. Castiel was laid back against the arm of the couch, his arm draped around (Y/N)’s middle so he could hold him close. A bowl of popcorn, coated deliciously in butter, sat between them.

“I don’t understand the conflict that the two storm-chasing teams have with one another. What happened to cause the rift in their relationship?” Castiel asked, eyes glued to the screen.

(Y/N) shrugged. “Honestly, they don’t go into detail about why they’re against one another. I wish they did,” 

Castiel hummed and went back to watching the film. A couple of minutes went by before the sound of footsteps came closer to the room. Dean poked his head into the door. He looked at the TV and then down at the couple.

“Hey,” he said.

(Y/N) glanced at him, grabbed the remote, and paused the movie. “Yeah?”

“I’m heading out on a supply run. Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m good, thanks,”

“Alright, I’ll be back in a bit,” Dean moved away from the door and began to make his way down the hall.

(Y/N) watched the doorway intently as he listened to the footsteps disappear into the distance. “Can you do me a favor, babe?” 

“Of course,” Castiel said, his attention fully on (Y/N). “What is it?”

“When Dean comes back, can you distract him?”

Castiel furrowed his brows. “Why?”

“I might, and I’m saying might, have played a prank on Dean that he’s not going to be too happy about.”

“What did you do?”

“Well, you know how, recently, I’ve stopped having my period?”

“Yes?”

“I had a lot of tampons and pads left over, and I didn’t necessarily want them to go to waste. So, I figured, what better way to get rid of them than to prank Dean with them.”

“How would you prank Dean with menstrual cycle products?”

(Y/N) bit his lip, anticipation filling his chest. He practically counted down the seconds, awaiting Dean’s imminent return. His muscles were tense, and the urge to run began to rise inside of him.

“Let’s just say Baby has some new decorations.”

“(Y/N)!” Dean’s voice echoed throughout the bunker.

Castiel’s head whipped toward the door, then immediately returned to (Y/N). “I’ll distract him.”

“God, I love you,” (Y/N) planted a kiss on Castiel’s cheek. “Bye!”

Without a second to lose, he threw the blanket off of him and dashed out of the room as quickly as his legs would allow. 

*~*

(Y/N)’s jaw dropped in a massive yawn. The mere sight of his bed made him want to collapse, but he knew he would hate himself in the morning if he didn’t change into something more comfortable beforehand. Castiel was sat at the end of the bed, loving gaze attached to (Y/N) as he went over to the dresser to get dressed. He was practically on autopilot as he moved, grabbed an oversized t-shirt and a pair of night pants, and proceeded to undress. However, something stopped him in his tracks as he took his binder off. His head was cast down, studying his chest intently. 

Castiel had witnessed that many times before; a dysphoric episode. There had been times when (Y/N) would sit and question himself about his appearance, whether out loud or mentally. Castiel would always take the time to remind him of how handsome he thought he was. How perfect he was. The progress he had made with testosterone. How in love with him he was. That moment, though, seemed different. Castiel stood from the bed and walked over to him.

“(Y/N)? Are you okay?” He asked softly. 

(Y/N) glanced up at him before his attention shifted to the full-body mirror that rested beside the dresser. He tilted his body so the light from his bedside table illuminated his naked torso. In the warm light, he was able to get a better look at his chest. He smiled.

“Cas! Look,” he gestured to the mirror. 

Castiel stepped closer to him, gaze locked on the mirror. He paid close attention to his chest to see what had caused the sudden happiness in his partner. The presence of smaller hairs scattered precariously around his upper torso was evident in the light. When he glanced up at (Y/N), he noticed that the smile that had been on his face had somehow widened. 

“My chest hairs finally came in! I thought it was gonna take, at least, a couple more months.”

Castiel grinned. “That’s wonderful, (Y/N).” He studied the hairs more closely. “Will they continue to grow?”

“Probably. They should grow a lot thicker, and maybe a little bit longer.”

Castiel stared at him with adoration. Wordlessly, he reached up, cupped (Y/N)’s cheeks, and kissed him. (Y/N) raised his brows, but immediately returned the kiss. The kiss was long and light, filled with love. When Castiel pulled back, (Y/N) slowly opened his eyes. 

“What was that for?” He asked quietly, reaching a hand up to caress Castiel’s.

Castiel hesitated before he let out a sigh. “Admittedly, I was rather nervous about this whole process at first. I was unsure of what would happen and how it would affect you. I never want to see you hurt. However, I see how happy you are when you see yourself now. The negative thoughts you used to have about yourself diminished greatly, and you’re even more handsome than when we first met. I’ve come to realize that my love for you can, indeed, grow stronger, and it does so every day.”

(Y/N) could feel his heart and chest swell. If he was in a cartoon, he swore his pupils would turn into hearts.

“I love you, too, Cas,” He said softly as he wrapped his arms around his waist and laid his head against his chest. “More than you’ll ever know.”

*~*

(Y/N) had been in bed for three hours. Within the past week, he had started to experience bottom growth. Although he was excited to be able to start that part of his transition, to fully feel like his body was conforming to the person he was, he had to admit that the pain was more intense than he had originally anticipated. It wasn’t a constant pain, but when it arose, it felt like a dull, throbbing pain mixed with the sensation of a thousand needles simultaneously stabbing his clit. Painkillers worked for the first couple of days, but the relief gradually faded as the pain became more intense. No matter which way he sat down, stood, or laid down, nothing could dull the ache.

He had done some research on different forums about bottom growth, and he found that only a small - minuscule would be a more accurate word - amount of transmen experience full-on pain during bottom growth. So few that there was barely any information on how to relieve the pain. He could only assume that those people saw the thousands of comments claiming no one would have pain that they were too afraid to post about their own experience. He cursed himself for being so unlucky. His transition had been going so well. Of course there would be a hiccup. That was just his luck.

Perhaps it was similar to that of period cramps. Perhaps the intense pain would only last a while before it went away. Perhaps he was kidding himself. That he was the only transman to experience that level of discomfort. Perhaps that was just karma for thinking he could be a real man.

Fuck that. If pain was what it took to be a man, he was prepared to endure it, even if it killed him.

The icepack had turned warm and no longer provided relief. He had his eyes closed, head tilted back into the pillow, his fingers tangled tightly into his hair. A hiss passed his clenched teeth as another sharp pain attacked his nerves. As the pain slowly subsided, there was a light rasp on the door.

“Come in,” he groaned. 

The door opened a crack. Castiel poked his head into the room before he stepped inside. A worried look was prominent on his face as he closed the door and moved closer to the bed. 

“(Y/N), are you alright? Sam and Dean told me you’ve been in here for quite some time.” He asked, taking a seat next to him.

(Y/N) inhaled sharply as the dip of the bed caused discomfort to shoot between his legs. Castiel glanced between (Y/N)’s legs and his eyes.

“No, I’m not okay,” (Y/N) whined. “I started bottom growth and it hurts like Hell. I’m tired and hungry, but the aches are so bad that I don’t want to get up or go to sleep. I just want it all to pass,” 

Tears brimmed in the corners of his eyes as he ran his hand down his face. Castiel’s feeling of worry only intensified as he saw how (Y/N) had been affected. He shifted in his spot.

“(Y/N), I don’t like seeing you like this. Let me heal you,” he pleaded with him as he reached his index and middle finger towards his forehead.

(Y/N)’s eyes grew wide and he snatched Castiel’s wrist before he could be touched.

“Don’t you dare,” he growled, eyes narrowed and words dripped in venom.

Castiel raised his brows, taken aback by the tone of voice that was used. It was the first time (Y/N) had ever spoken to him like that.

“(Y/N), please, I can see how much you’re hurting. Let me take care of you.”

“No! Because I don’t know what your stupid angel juice will do to me. I’ve worked so hard to get where I’m at,” his voice was strained, broken.

“I just want you to be happy again.”

“I am happy!” (Y/N)’s loud voice echoed off the walls of the room as he sat up quickly.

He instantly regretted his movement when a painful shockwave struck his nerves. He clenched his jaw, cupped his crotch, and laid on his side, his back to Castiel. Castiel reached over to comfort him, but his hand was roughly shoved away. (Y/N) paid no mind to the expression of hurt Castiel had.

“I fought with myself my entire life to figure out who I am, and I fought even harder to get to where I am right now. If being in pain will turn me into the man I want to be, then so be it. Your father already made one mistake by putting me in the wrong body. I’m not going to sit here and let you reverse the progress I’ve made to finally fix his fuck-up.”

“(Y/N)-”

“No! I don’t want to hear it. Now get out.”

Castiel froze, surprised by the demand. It had been a while since he saw (Y/N) so angry, and the last time wasn’t even directed toward him. He never raised his voice at Castiel. Sure, they had their spats here and there, as most couples do, but they never shouted at one another. They knew how to talk about their problems, work through them, and discuss the way that they felt, something a decent amount of relationships lack. This was a whole new experience for Castiel.

He hated it.

At first, he contemplated talking to (Y/N) again. Try to convince him to take his offer to heal him. He hated seeing his partner in such a painful state, the same as at the end of any hunt. Castiel’s first instinct would be to heal him. To make the pain go away. To be able to see the smile he adored so much, which was hidden by the layers of agony he was experiencing. Alas, in the end, he decided against it. Instead, he opted to follow (Y/N)’s wants. He stood slowly, and quietly, from his spot on the bed and walked over to the door. His eyes never left (Y/N), his mind performing one last battle with itself, the urge to speak overwhelming. He held the desire back as he opened the door and left the room.

*~*

The library was quiet. Sam and Dean sat on either side of one of the tables, Sam with a pile of books laid out in front of him and Dean with his laptop and a small bowl of snacks. The occasional sound of pages being turned and the mouse pad click filled the room. Aside from the occasional small talk, they said nothing. Castiel entered the room, and their attention turned to him.

“Hey Cas,” Dean greeted.

“Hey Cas, how is he?” Sam followed up.

Castiel walked over to the table and sat down to the left of Dean. A sigh escaped his lips as he slouched in the seat, his folded hands resting on his stomach. He had a visibly defeated look on his face as he took some time to answer Sam’s question.

“He is in a lot of pain. I attempted to heal him, but he wouldn’t let me. He got upset with me and kicked me out of the room. I’ve never seen him so angry before.” Castiel shook his head.

Sam and Dean stared at him for quite some time.

“You tried to heal him?” Dean asked.

“Yes,” Castiel confirmed. “He is in a lot of pain. I am certain I can make it go away.”

“Cas, he doesn’t want to be healed,” Sam said.

“I realize that, Sam.”

“No, I don’t think you do. I can tell you’re still upset about the whole thing. What (Y/N) is going through right now is a normal part of the transition. Granted, he has it a Hell of a lot worse than most, but, that’s why we called you. We thought you would be able to come over and comfort him.”

“I thought healing him would be comforting. It was supposed to make him feel better. To get him back to normal.”

“See? ‘Back to normal’. Don’t you see how that can be misconstrued?”

Castiel looked at him curiously. “I do not.”

“Well, what you see as something to be healed, (Y/N) doesn’t. He’s very proud of the pain he’s in. He views it as an accomplishment. To heal him and take that pain away, it would be as if you’re stripping him of that achievement.”

“Sam’s right,” Dean chimed in. “When he first noticed the bottom growth, he came to us saying, ‘Guys! Guys! I have a dick now!’.” Dean mocked with a smile, causing Sam and Castiel to grin as well. “And then, when the pain started, and we began to get worried, he would say, ‘It hurts like Hell, but I still have a dick’. He was still happy about it, even though it hurt.”

Castiel nodded, considering their words. “I see,” he trailed. “I know that this was a big deal for (Y/N), but I didn’t comprehend why he was willing to go through the pain. I understand, now, that it’s because he’s finally happy with himself and the progress he has made. The way I worded my concern for his wellbeing made it appear as if I wanted to reverse the work he has done.”

“Exactly!” Sam nodded.

“I would never want that, though. (Y/N) appears to be in the best mindset I have ever seen him in, and I wouldn’t want to jeopardize that. I would never reverse the progress, even if I could.”

“We understand that. We know how much you love him-”

“Yeah, it’s kind of gross,” Dean mumbled.

Sam sighed. “As I was saying, we know how much you love him, and we recognize you would never say or do anything to threaten that progress, but when someone is in a lot of pain, they don’t always think clearly. Take Dean for example. When I have to stitch him up after a hunt, he says some pretty mean shit to me, but he never means it.”

“At least that’s what I let him think,” Dean whispered to Castiel just loud enough for Sam to hear.

Sam ran his fingers through his hair. “Dean, you’re not helping.”

“Sorry,” Dean cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair.

“(Y/N) is still head-over-heels in love with you.” Sam turned back to Castiel. “Pain can just make us say some stupid stuff. It would probably be best to give each other some space right now, think about what we discussed, and talk to one another tomorrow.”

“I think that is a good idea,” Castiel said as he stood from the table and brushed off his trenchcoat. “Will you keep me informed on how he is throughout the day?”

“Of course, man, yeah,” Sam smiled up at him, which Castiel was quick to return.

“Thank you. I will be on my way, then.”

“Where are you going?”

“To retrieve some of (Y/N)’s favorite treats to give to him. I’m hoping that might make him feel better.”

Sam’s smile widened. “That’s a good idea.”

*~*

It took (Y/N) over two hours to be able to fall asleep. The pain hadn’t been constant, but with how exhausted he was and the tears burning in the corner of his eyes, all he could do was lay there and think. He couldn’t believe the audacity that Castiel had to ask if he wanted to be healed. Scratch that. Castiel hadn’t even asked if he wanted it. He had simply told (Y/N) that he was going to heal him. He didn’t need that, though. He didn’t need to be fixed. (Y/N) was perfect the way he was, even if some things still needed to be tweaked. Nothing about him was broken. Therefore, nothing needed to be fixed.

Perhaps he was overthinking Castiel’s intentions. Truly, he never meant what (Y/N) interpreted it as, right? Castiel loved (Y/N), even though his physical attributes were changing, right? Of course, he did, otherwise, he wouldn’t have practically begged to heal him. Right?

With the image of Castiel’s pain-filled eyes in his mind, he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of guilt swell in his stomach. 

He had never snapped at Castiel before. He didn’t think Castiel deserved it. Especially now. All he had tried to do was make him feel better - in Castiel’s own way - and (Y/N) took the anger he had for the pain out on him. How could he do that to him? The shame was eating him up inside. There wasn’t much he could do, though. The aches and pains made any desire to move or speak vanish. He knew he had to apologize, to make things right, but it would have to wait until he felt better. 

Eventually, after another round of pain, (Y/N) could feel the exhaustion wash over him. His eyelids slid shut, and it didn’t take long for slumber to come.

*~*

The pain was more bearable when he awoke. It was more of a dull throb rather than needle-like stabbing. He was able to move around with mild discomfort. Even though he was more mobile, the exhaustion from the day before was still very much present, despite the hours of sleep he had gotten. The desire to crawl into his bed once more was intense. Thankfully, the lack of a hunt made that possible. So, as soon as he awoke, he got up, grabbed himself a water bottle, painkillers, and snacks, and retreated to his room.

While the pain had subsided substantially, his thoughts were clearer than before. He was able to think back to the spat he had with Castiel in greater detail and understanding. With a mind free of any pain-influenced thoughts, he felt even more guilty than he had before he slept. The hurt he had seen in Castiel’s eyes was practically burned into his soul. The only other time Castiel had looked at him with those eyes was when he was on the brink of death after a hunt gone wrong. He never wanted to be the cause for that look. He shouldn’t have snapped. Not at Castiel. Never at Castiel.

As he lay in bed, he pulled out his phone, brought up Castiel’s contact, and texted him.

Hey, babe. Could you come to our room when you get the chance, please?

He placed the phone onto his lap and began to nibble on the nail of his thumb. He couldn’t think of anything else. Nothing could shift his attention away from the problem at hand. Even if he tried to occupy himself with mindless scrolling or one of his hobbies, he didn’t think he would be able to concentrate on anything else. The whole disaster could have been avoided had (Y/N) thought about Castiel’s intentions rather than his insecurities. That was one of the character flaws he had to work on.

It wasn’t long before three soft knocks echoed against the wooden door, and (Y/N)’s head whipped up.

“Come in,” he said.

Just like before, the door opened a crack and Castiel poked his head inside before entering the room. Instead of the worried look he had before, it was replaced by intense nerves. Not only that, but, in his hands, Castiel held a small, decorative box, some items poking out of the top. The box was the least of (Y/N)’s worries.

“Good morning,” Castiel greeted, almost cautiously. “How are you feeling today?”

“A bit better. A little achy, but nothing like it was yesterday.”

“I’m glad.”

They sat in silence. (Y/N) still laid back on the bed while Castiel stood a couple of feet from him. The guilt only intensified. To think that Castiel was nervous to get closer to him because of his outburst broke his heart. Rightfully so. He patted the spot next to him on the bed. Castiel took the silent invitation and moved over to him. As he got closer, (Y/N)’s attention shifted to the box.

“What’s in there?” He asked quietly.

Castiel looked down at the box and then back at him. “It’s some of your favorite snacks,” he said and held out the box to him. “I figured it would make you feel better.”

Carefully, (Y/N) took the box from him and examined the contents. Inside were, indeed, some of his favorite snacks and candies. The guilt was killing him. He gave a small smile and set the box to the side.

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” Castiel gingerly sat beside him on the bed, careful of the way it shifted under his weight. “(Y/N), I wanted to apologize-”

“No, Cas,” (Y/N) interrupted. “You don’t have to apologize for anything, okay? I should be the one to apologize for what happened.”

(Y/N) turned his body in the bed, his face contorting slightly to a look of discomfort from the ache and settled for laying on his side so he could face Castiel.

“I should have never yelled at you like that. I should have never yelled at you at all. You were only trying to help. I realize that now, and I’m so sorry for the way I treated you.”

Castiel nodded. “Sam informed me that my intentions might have been misconstrued because of the pain.”

“They were at the time. The pain clouded my judgment and, in a sense, it made me assume you wanted to get rid of my bottom growth altogether. I know that’s impossible, and I don’t know what could have made me think otherwise. If you were capable of changing me to that extent, I would have asked you months ago to use your grace on me instead of taking hormones,” he let out a dry chuckle. “But, Cas, I hope you know that my being in pain doesn’t give me a reason to talk to you the way that I did.”

“I understand,” He replied, gaze cast down.

“Hey, look at me,” (Y/N) reached over and, using his index and middle fingers, turned Castiel’s head so that their eyes were connected. “You don’t deserve to be talked to like that, especially by me. I was a terrible boyfriend at that moment.”

“No, you weren’t,” Castiel shook his head as he grasped both of (Y/N)’s hands in his. “I’ve had time to reflect, and, if I’ve learned anything from my time on Earth, it’s that people make mistakes. It’s okay to make those mistakes as long as you take accountability for them. I took accountability for my mistake, and you took accountability for yours.”

“You’re right, accountability is very important, and people do make mistakes, but those mistakes shouldn’t hurt the ones we love. I love you, Castiel, more than you’ll ever truly know. You’ve stood by my side through every second of my transition and have continued to show your undying love and support for me, even when I’m a dick to you. You even got me a damn basket of my favorite snacks, even after what I did,” Tears streaked down his cheeks, and his voice began to quiver as he spoke. “You are so kind and caring and compassionate, and I don’t deserve you.”

“Stop,” Castiel reached a hand up and used his thumb to brush the tears away from his cheeks. “(Y/N), I love you, too. More than I ever thought possible. You deserve everything, and I wish I could give it to you. It hurt me so much to see you in pain, that I didn’t even consider your feelings. That was selfish of me, but, I know, from now on, I will consider what you want before I consider anything else.”

(Y/N) sniffled. “Oh, Cas, you’re not selfish. You are the most selfless person I have ever met. The fact that you care so much about me is one of the reasons why I fell in love with you in the first place. I wouldn’t change it for the world. I just need to learn to keep my damn mouth shut when you’re trying to be nice,” he chuckled and leaned his forehead against Castiel’s. “Can you forgive me?”

Castiel opened his mouth to protest, to say that (Y/N) didn’t need to be forgiven, but he took a page out of his newly found book of social knowledge and gave him a small smile. “Yes, I forgive you. Do you forgive me?”

(Y/N) attempted to do the same, to say that Castiel had done nothing wrong, to repeat the same line he had just preached. But he just copied the smile and gave a faint nod. “I forgive you.” He whispered as he leaned over and kissed him sweetly.

The kiss lasted a couple of seconds before they pulled away, enjoying their sweet embrace. (Y/N) shifted on the bed to get more comfortable and, again, winced when the ache returned. Castiel took notice, his eyes roaming (Y/N)’s body.

“Are you alright? Would you like me to get you anything?” He asked.

(Y/N) shook his head. “No, babe, thank you. Maybe we could just lie in bed together for a bit while I snack on the treats you got me?”

Castiel smiled. “That sounds like a great idea.”

The two of them adjusted themselves in the bed so Castiel was laid on his back and (Y/N) was laid on his side. His head and hand rested on his chest while Castiel’s arm was wrapped around his shoulders. (Y/N) reached over, grabbed one of the many bags of candy, and sat it between them. They sat in a comfortable silence, wrapped in each other’s embrace, never wanting to let go.

Everyone seeks some type of support and comfort from others. Whether it be family, friends, partners, coworkers, or complete strangers, the strength and stability of the human race depend on the support of others in some way, shape, or form. (Y/N) was lucky enough to be put in a situation where he was surrounded by people who loved and appreciated him for who he was. Despite the trials and tribulations of the past and the ones yet to come, he knew he always had loved ones in his life to fall back on in times of trouble. 

And (Y/N) would cherish that for as long as he lived.

[ametrictonofaudacity]

Bonds

Yandere Platonic Batfam x Trans Masc Autistic Reader

Hello! A bit of an authors note. This particular series will be dealing with transphobia, all of which stems from personal experience. Be advised when reading!

Warning: This is a yandere work, and as such, has themes of obsession , violence, stalking, conditioning and manipulation. Trigger warning for this particular one include the above warnings. They’re all pretty mild tbh.

Looking back on it, you knew there was nothing you could have done. That Dad Bruce had planned and pre-planned every meeting since your first interaction to draw you in, to learn more, before he had finally just taken you to the Manor. That there was absolutely nothing you could of done to outsmart the World’s Greatest Detective, who had become inexplicably obsessed with you, alongside all of his kids.

That didn’t make it any easier. It didn’t get rid of the guilt, or the frustration, or the fact you had been so close to doing what you wanted to do with your life. It didn’t help the ugly knot in your chest that would well up, tight and complex and full of emotion, and it didn’t help the bitter rage that would sit heavy in your belly some days.

You sigh, gently scratching behind Titus’ ear, and his tail thumps against the hardwood as he wiggles closer, nose snuffling for any treats. Finding none, he continues to preen under your petting and you laugh, pressing a kiss to his forehead with a smile.

“I had wondered where Titus had gone.” Damian comments, sitting next to you. Out of all of your “siblings”, Damian never really.. set of that anger in your chest. He was younger than you, still a child, and even though it sucked it made sense that he would follow in the behaviors others had set out for him. It made you sad, sometimes, but not angry.

“Me and him are just chilling. Isn’t that right, Titus?” He woofs softly at the sound of his name, and you laugh, scratching behind his ear again.

“You are going to spoil him, one of these days. I hope you know that.” Damian scolds, like he had a leg to stand on. You had seen him sneak the dog treats and snacks every now and then, something you were all explicitly banned from doing to prevent the dog from trying to get into the trash or on the countertops. “Are you watching Star Wars again?”

He sounded far too judgmental for your tastes, and you frown, reaching for the remote.

“I didn’t say to change it. Todd had simple remarked the other day that you watched it often.” He interjects, and you feel your shoulders unwind. You were.. defensive, of your interests, and it always upset you when someone mocked you for having them, no matter how much you wished it didn’t.

“Jason hardly knows how to mind his business half the time.” You grumble, then stretch. Damian slots into the seat beside you like he had been planning to all along, and you sigh tiredly. Despite the fact that you heavily suspected Damian was touch-starved to all hell, he would never outright ask for a hug, or go for one, instead slotting himself into a position where it would be very easy for you to hug or cuddle him.

Sometimes, it made you too sad not to. This time was one of those times.

You wrap an arm around your little brother Damian, letting him decide whether or not he actually wanted the affection. He sinks into your side easily, and you shift, eyes fixated on the screen.

You try not to wonder how much of his hesitance came from genuine trauma and how much came from the careful calculation he inherited from his father. It would only upset you.

You watch as the characters on the screen argue, the lines familiar enough that you mouth along, and the sky darkens outside, time passing in that strange, crawling way it did when you were totally relaxed and falling asleep. Part of you is glad Damian sought you out, the soft sounds of his breathing lulling you to sleep. Your eyes droop, and you sigh, letting your head fall back against the cushions.

“Awww.” The sound of a quiet coo makes you nearly jump up, arms tightening around Damian, and you only stiffen further when you see Dick leaning against the door, a broad grin on his features. He watches the two of you, Damian, who was no doubt awake, and yourself, and his eyes are sharp and piercing enough that your stomach turns.

“No one told me you’d come out of your room, baby bat.” He huffs, and moves toward you both on silent feet.

“Perhaps they simply wanted to spend time alone, Grayson.” Damian sniffs, but does nothing to prevent Dick from clambering onto the couch, wrapping an arm around you and Damian both. Despite not being even close to the youngest, Dick always treated you as a younger sibling, something that drove you insane and made rage bubble up whenever you thought of it too much.

“Nah. They’ll typically sneak off to the library if they want time alone.” He wasn’t wrong, per se, but the flippant way he says it makes you send him a tired glare. “What’re you watching?”

“Star Wars. The fifth one.”

“That’s the one with the Vader reveal, right? When he’s like “I am your father” and all that?” He questions, and you send him a tired glare.

“You’re older than me, how are you not more familiar with Star Wars.” You complain, and he laughs, settling further into the seat next to you. There was no escaping it now, unfortunately. You were stuck in the cuddle pile until he either let you go, the movie ended, or Alfred came to your rescue. Given that there was nearly an hour of movie left, you really hoped the third option would happen.

“Hey! I spent most of my childhood running around fighting crime, you don’t really get super into sci-fi after meeting actual aliens!” He defends, grinning.

“I feel like that would only increase the interest more, but okay.” You snort, and he laughs.

For the most part, the three of you are silent. Dick has a running commentary throughout the movie that you ignore, only pausing to correct him when he is simply just outright wrong, and Damian doesn’t say anything at all except to remark on how stupid the two of you were.

Then the scene on Cloud City comes on. The reveal.

It makes you.. uncomfortable, seeing how desperate Luke is to get away. It makes something tighten in your chest as you watch the screen, and Dick must realize because his eyes cut to you and suddenly the remote is in his hands, turning off the show.

“Not in the mood for all the dramatics.” He lies with an easy grin, even though you know that the reason he changed it had nothing to do with him and everything to do with you. “Let’s just sit and watch this, yeah?”

You weren’t even sure what show he had put on, and so you shake your head, pushing yourself up.

A strong arm pushes you back. Your heart starts hammering in your throat, an awful mix of anxiety and something else, and you glance over at Dick, trying not to think about the way Damian had eased back with a frown and how your fingers were wrapped tightly around Dick’s arm in alarm.

“Dick. Let me up, I have to use the restroom.” You lie, even as you hear your heartbeat thundering away in your ears. Dick was in a mood today, and you had no clue why or who had put him in that mood. Either way, it had your stomach churning and the hair on the back of your neck standing up.

“Yeah, no problem.” He lets you go easily, at that, and you slip away, trying to make it look like you weren’t running.

The door to your room shuts quietly behind you. The hinges are well-oiled and silent, another precaution they had taken when they had moved you in, so that you couldn’t hear them coming and going. For once, you’re grateful for their never ending paranoia. Now that you had picked up their silent hair, it made it easier for you to slip in and out of your room without detection.

You curl up on the bedspread, not bothering to go under the covers. You felt.. unwell. Hurt and angry and anxious. You felt confused and upset and a million other emotions you couldn’t name.

You had been bickering with Dick before the scene. Acting like siblings, behaving like a family. It was a harsh dose of reality in that no matter how much you cling to your anger, they were steadily working their way into your life, casting you in a role you had never wanted to play.

Or, actually, you had. You had wanted to be a part of their family, but not like this. You had wanted all of it, the loving father, the siblings, the unwavering support. But not at the cost of your freedom.

There’s a soft knock on your door, and you swallow. You hope it’s not Dick, because you didn’t feel like being yelled at and you didn’t feel like being guilt-tripped.

“Come in.” You croak, and the door opens with a whisper of air. Jason or Bruce, maybe? They were always careful to announce their presence when they were upset, although Cass also showed that same level of care when she comforted you.

The bed dips under their weight, and your body slides toward them, even when you don’t turn your head. Not Cass, she was too light. Bruce or Jason, then.

“Dick said you got upset, earlier.” A warm hand buries itself in your hair gently, and your lip trembles, even though you refuse to look at your Dad Bruce. He doesn’t demand that you do, thankfully. “Wanna tell me what you set you off?”

“What do you think?” You snap, teeth bared at nothing, and he continues stroking your hair, gently detangling the strands the best he can.

“I won’t know unless you tell me.” He comments neutrally, and you know that he’s playing you for a fool and it makes you so mad that you push yourself up, twisting around to face him.

“Really?! What have all of our conflicts been about so far, Bruce?” Your shoulders are hiked up. Angry. Defensive. You know you’re mad and you don’t care.

“(Y/N), I know you don’t understand just yet but it was for the best-“

“For you!! I didn’t get a choice, you didn’t give me a choice, and that’s the worst part!!” You shriek, and the bubbling anger that had been locked up and hidden away is finally escaping, in hot tears running down your face and your enraged shrieking. “I never had a choice! I just wanted- I wanted-!”

Sobs tear themselves from your throat, ugly and raw, and when his hand lands on your shoulder you shrug it off, pushing yourself away from him to stand on your own to feet.

The worst part is expression. Guilt and sympathy and sadness make an awful combination, and you grip the desk, rage pulsing in your veins. How dare he be sad when he did this. How dare he be sad when you were the one who had been ripped from your life.

“You wanted someone to take care of you, (Y/N). You needed help.” He says slowly, standing up. His posture is open, gentle, a non-threat. You aren’t fooled, and shuffle back.

“I had it under control! I was fine!” You snarl back, and he shakes his head, his face gentle.

“You didn’t. You weren’t sleeping, barely eating, you were constantly stressed because of your family… that’s not under control. It’s unhealthy.”

“And this is?! Ripping someone from their home, their family, because what-?! You wanted to? You’re awful! You’re selfish! I want to go home, take me home, let me go-!”

Warm arms wrap around you, pressing you into a broad chest, and you shriek against the fabric, trying your best to thrash. Despite being entirely human, his arms are like warm steel around you, unmoving, and eventually, your struggles cease, and you go still.

“I know what I did was selfish. I know it was cruel, (Y/N). But I just… I couldn’t bear losing another son. Your siblings, they can defend themselves. They have the training, the skills. But you were a civilian, struggling to stay alive and get through school, and I could only do so much to help you.”

His voice is thick, and you refuse to look up at him. He had the annoying habit of being painfully genuine when he knew it would rip your heart out.

He leans back, and begins to gently wipe your face, brushing the tears of your cheeks. Despite the screaming, he don’t look angry, but there’s a heavy, awful sorrow in his shoulders that makes you want to cry. Which makes more angry tears spill down your cheeks because how dare he make you feel guilty for upsetting him.

“I can’t lose another son.” He admits, voice cracking, and you swallow. Hearing him call you his son was.. it was a mixed bag. Old hurts and new ones creating something new. “And I knew, if I let it continue on, something terrible would have happened.”

“You could have asked me.” You croak, and he shakes his head.

“You wouldn’t have said yes. You had put everyone’s needs above your own, you would’ve self-destructed if I had left you there.”

The worst part was, he was right. You had been feeling so small and trapped that even if he had offered, you wouldn’t have accepted. It was a bitter pill to swallow.

“I know this isn’t fair. But you’ll get through this. And we’ll help you, every step of the way.” A gentle kiss to your forehead, as he smoothed back your hair, and he smiles down at you.

“Dinner is going to be in thirty minutes. Would you like to join me downstairs or stay up here until then?”

Your mouth is dry. Your face is red and teary and upset. Your eyes are puffy from crying.

You don’t want to be alone, either.

“I’ll come downstairs.” You whisper, and he smiles, kneeling to grab your weighted blanket. When you both sit on the couch, he ticks it around your shoulder, sits next to you, and puts on some show or another you don’t recognize.

He is warm and solid against you, and eventually you fall asleep, exhausted.

[edandstede]

i found ofmd not long after i’d come out as a gay trans man. i came out after years of knowing i was and deliberately repressing it, refusing to poke it or acknowledge it, terrified of it. i didn’t want to see it. couldn’t be me, if i ignored it it would go away. like stede, i would cry when i thought nobody could hear me. it was so lonely, shutting that part of myself off, and coming out just to my own close circle (not family at this point) was the scariest thing i’ve ever done.

this show… fucking hell, this show. it held me gently but firmly and told me in no uncertain terms that everything i knew about being a man was wrong, that i could be who i wanted to be and it was never too late to grab it with both hands. it helped me work through things in my head, consider myself in new ways, forced me to reflect. yes, i could be authentic, i could be flamboyant, i could wear what i want, i could be tough, vulnerable, effeminate, silly, a bit of a loser even. i could cry, i could try and fail and try again. i could be messy and human and deserve happiness and love. i could shape my life into something that truly makes me happy, and i could do it all with a family of my own choosing. i could be free.

it took this new and fragile existence for me, something i was still bricking it about, and reminded me of the utter joy of being queer and stepping into yourself properly. of community, belonging, expression, self-actualisation. i didn’t even realise how much i needed ofmd until i had it, and i could scarcely believe it was real! this brilliant gem, full of eccentricity and poignancy and just brimming with love, so much love, from every single direction. it was a breath of fresh air, just like it was for so many others. there’s never been anything quite like it and any future queer media like it has big shoes to fill.

i just turned 28, i’m finally out to my family as trans, i’m ready to send off my deed poll to change my name, i’m crowdfunding for top surgery and i’m in the process of being referred to a GIC. this show’s kindness, its unwavering love towards people like me, it bolstered my courage and bravery SO MUCH and i’ve taken steps towards getting the life i truly want that i never dared i’d take. i want to be myself, i want to stop holding myself back, i want to do things i’ve never been brave enough to chase before. isn’t that amazing? my life is finally an adventure i can’t wait for. and i’ve received so much love and support from all of you too - you’ve donated to my surgery fund, you’ve sent kind messages, you’ve connected with me about being trans. for all the negative stuff i’ve come across in this fandom, there’s double the amount of love and i’ve felt it first-hand.

i truly am not the same person i was before ofmd and that is so fucking brilliant, i couldn’t be more grateful. i’m heartbroken that, as of now, ofmd won’t be returning to us. but it has touched my life in such a special way, written on me in permanent ink, you might say. and i just think it’s a really lovely thing nobody can take away, this lasting impression. i’ll always carry ed and stede and the crew in my heart, even when the revenge is nothing more than scrap wood and old fabric.

:•) 🏴‍☠️❤️

[lavenderskye29]

Hi I found your Page and I love plum princesses and MQ

I have a question

What would they do if they found out that there's queen was abused mentally and didn't have a good relationship with her family.

And al'so if one of her brothers was very voilnt to her

Like the notice that there queen not back yet but they smell blood and they run to there wife and see her with a broken leg after getting pushed down some stairs ( I just broken toes with my family most of them them cuz I came out as she/her trans and it wasn't pretty but I am doing ok I have my girlfriend to help me or my fiance as I should call her lol) but what would they do to them and how would they get the reader home safe. And how would they take care of her.

(First off, I am so sorry this has happened to you. You don't deserve that. I hope you're safe and away from your family. If ever in trouble please seek help, here is the link for the domestic violence hotline.)

Monkey Queen and Macaque would not let Peaches go after capturing her, so there would be no incidents during her time on the mountain... but in the village, when the ladies are posing as monkeys and they come for one of their weekly visits and they see their soon-to-be wife crying and quivering in her bedroll, is when something would happen.

They don't understand at first what happened so they rush over chattering worriedly, looking to inspect the pathetic lump that was Peaches curled up on the floor. Being warriors, the ladies knew what inflicted injuries looked like and the minute they saw her swollen, bruised face peeking out from under the thin sheet she called a blanket, they lost it. It took every ounce of self-restraint to remain in their disguises and to not burn the whole village down to ash. Macaque had to convince Wukong to wait so they could see who the real culprits were before dishing out a punishment. So they waited, curled up against a whimpering Peaches as time passed.

As evening approached, they didn't expect to hear the sound of stomps approaching Peach's room from within, and when they noticed their beaten love trying to curl up deeper into her covers and the quivering of her body start to increase violently, they knew they caught their culprit. As the thin sliding paper door slammed open, they could immediately tell it was one of Peaches family members by the shared features in their face... but whereas Peaches was nearly always smiling or laughing when her furry companions saw her, this person was only snarling at the room. Malice radiated from the person.

The monkeys bristled when the person shouted at Peaches to get up, but nothing compared the anger they felt when the family member approached with a heavy wicker broom and started whacking at the lump that was Peaches and at them. That was enough to send Wukong and Macaque in a vicious flurry of rage. They lept at the attacker, tearing the human limb from limb, and bathing in the blood-curtling screams that ripped from their throat. It didn't take long for the human to die, but the sounds of pain did bring the rest of the family to come rushing in. Wukong and Macaque wasted no time in continuing the slaughter, but not before making the head of the family beg for forgiveness.

By the time they were done, the house was covered in blood and torn bits of flesh. The only sound that could be heard was the sound of giggling coming from Macaque and Wukong. At least that's what they thought until another sound entered the fray... a quiet, sadder sound that clawed at the hearts of the demon warlords... Peaches' light sobbing.

She had been conscious for it all.

Macaque rushed back to Peaches whereas Wukong faltered a bit. Surely, Peaches would fear them now... Would hate them... this was going to take a lot of work to fix on their part. Wukong was going through scenario after scenario in her head as she slowly made her way back to Peaches room of how their little human would react to them. Imagine Wukong's surprise however when from the hallway, she sees Peaches practically clinging to Macaque for some sort of comfort in all the blood; the only spot of white in this ocean of red. The sight made Wukong pause. Suddenly everything came to light for her, and a wide, sharp-toothed grin split across her face.

After that day, Peaches would have no worries... and no use for anyone else but her knights in shining armor.

[tsunflowers]

so my plan for dealing with the harassment I’ve been receiving is to ignore them completely bc I truly do not give a shit about what they have to say. but I do think it could be helpful to kind of analyze their tactics bc they’ve done this to other people and may do it to more in the future

on thursday i got 5-10 anonymous messages either asking or accusing me of being friends with a pedophile and groomer and helping them find minors to target. I obviously haven’t done this and I don’t know who first claimed this or where. I also don’t know if it’s connected to the vitriol that appeared later but I’m inclined to think so bc both groups named a certain tumblr user (who I will not name bc they’ve been dealing with this for a while and probably just want to stay out of it). my impression of the anons in my ask at that time is that there were multiple people and some of them were sincerely worried that I was doing something nasty. i find this somewhat worrisome bc if that incident really is connected to the later harassment it means that the person who has been making what seems like hundreds of accounts just to call people cunts is capable of coming off as trustworthy and concealing the depths of their hateful behavior. looking at the situation as a whole it does feel like that was the first strike intended to destabilize me and turn people against me before the real harassment campaign began

for some reason they started by replying to my pinned post, adding over a hundred violent and hateful comments. I don’t think this was the best tactic bc it honestly took me a while to notice. I assume this started on friday but maybe it was thursday and I wasn’t paying attention to the replies on my pinned. when i turned off replies on friday they moved to my ask and I got probably between ten and twenty of the same awful messages. most of the comments were graphic rape and death threats, but a lot were also accusing me of being a terf

this is why I think the person or persons behind this are pretending to be trans women in order to make trans women look violent and unreasonable. I’ve deleted all the asks and replies bc fuck that shit but what I remember from some of them is stuff like “no one cares that you have a period every month, bleeder” (??) and “cissies like you will never be as beautiful as us real women.” I don’t know any trans women who would say stuff like that in actual rage. “normal women and cis women” has a layer of irony to it so i can only imagine it as a joke or being said to someone you know is a terf and will get super mad. it’s just not on the same level as the graphic violence being described in other comments. but if you’re a trans woman and you call cis women bleeders when you’re actually furious with them let me know

unlike the first wave of anonymous asks I suspect these comments came from a single person, or maybe two or three at most. the accounts had no posts and not even a bio so they were clearly made just for this purpose. which is really sad lmao. I didn’t notice much variation in typing style and they were universally against me. that’s why I think these hundreds of accounts were made by the same person or group, while i think the anons I received on thursday who had different typing styles and varied from already against me to just concerned and confused were more likely to be separate and sincere people

I’ve heard from another person that when someone who received similar harassment said they would abandon their blog they were suddenly swarmed by terfs trying to comfort them and saying look at what those awful trans women did to this innocent cis woman. obviously my suspicion is that those terfs are the same people making the accounts to spew hate speech and they just switched to a different set of accounts once the violence had its intended effect

unfortunately I don’t know what we can learn from this, other than that there are terfs targeting people in the tokusatsu fandom and they have it out for one person in particular who they sometimes name when harassing others. I don’t have any sense of who’s behind this bc they’ve spent the whole time hiding behind anons and burner accounts. it would be so much easier if I was getting hate from people’s actual accounts that i could simply block

also not talking about this is so hard for me bc I love complaining and posting about everything that passes through my head so I have to share one anecdote that I think is so funny. I posted a message i got from a url that was like takerutenkuujiiii that said “I hope you get female genital mutilation so you can experience the hurt you’ve caused others” and I said “he wouldn’t say that” and someone actually came to my inbox and called me “dumb” for saying that the famously kind and sweet protagonist of children’s show kamen rider ghost would not wish genital mutilation on anyone

[francisinthehouse]

hello tumblr i have just finished reading The Spirit Bares Its Teeth by Andrew Joseph White and i need to scream my thoughts about it into the void

spoiler warning for the entirety of this book, i want to tell you to read it blind but i should ALSO tell you to read the content warnings because yeah, this book is dark and it pulls no punches in depicting horrible shit (this is not a criticism. i love it, but not everyone will and i understand that)

OK RIGHT OFF THE BAT i love Silas as a character so much, as an autistic person i think this is the most seen/understood i have ever felt reading about another autistic person in fiction.

i love you Daphne I was so ready to hate her when she was introduced and then the second she came out to Silas she stole my heart, i'm not trans but that scene almost made me cry.

i would kill for the groundskeeper i hope he knows that, never said a word but he might be one of my favorite characters in the book. wherever he is i hope he's doing well.

i desperately want to know more about the Braxton's girls. what were their lives like before the book, did they have families, did they miss them, did they try to fight back against the horrors they faced there only to become numb to them. what about the girls who managed to leave, what happened to them, what is happening to them.

i love Mary and Frances, but i'm never going to recover from the emotional damage they did to me. i KNEW there was something between them when Mary was introduced but then the scene in the basement happened and i sobbed uncontrollably. i will NEVER get over Frances haunting Mary's ring and Mary calling Frances her wife in the epilogue.

what the HELL happened to Charlotte. we know she's in Braxton's for being a feminist, what kind of hell did they put her through for her to become the way she is in the book?

Harriet Johnston. holy fucking shit, Harriet Johnston. everything about her scene fucking broke me. i can't even ask what she did to deserve that because nothing she could have done would warrant that.

the bathroom scene. anyone who has read the book knows what i'm talking about. Isabella i am so sorry. the fact that Silas was able to save her, that she WOULD HAVE SURVIVED had Headmaster not caught her. the tragedy that she died so close to the climax, that she was so close to surviving and escaping but that the climax also would have never happened if she did survive. she was dead no matter what, and she deserved so much better.

Mrs Forrester is such an interesting character to me. she's just as much a victim of the system as she is a perpetrator of it, and in a weird way i love the fact that she isn't redeemed by the end. also how poetic and tragic is it that the first student of Braxton's dies with it?

George sucks, he can fuck off and die for all i care. over and over he was given the choice to do the right thing and every time decided not to because it would have made HIS life harder. Elsie deserves a better husband, Silas deserves a better brother. he's not even the worst character morally, but i can't even say that i hate his guts because he has no guts for me to hate at all.

i am fully prepared to ramble more about this book when i can form coherent thoughts, i am trying but my brain is still spinning at light speeds and the words are not coming out right. i am so normal about this book

[blackbutlerfandomnerddomain]

In "Kalim's Harem", if our Sunshine Boy was a Trans Boy, what do you think each of the boys would react to when they found out?

AWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!

So I have a lot of TWST trans headcanons so first off I'll name my personal ones (reminder everyone these are my headcanons if you don't agree or like then that's fine, you have your thoughts I have mine)

Riddle is FtM transgender who I sometimes swap in headcanon as nonbinary

Ace if FtM transgender who just got his top surgery before NRC

Cater's Cater and we all should be happy for it ^w^

Both Jade and Floyd are Intersex

Azul's nonbinary to me (I dunno octopi's anatomy is weird and I love it)

Jamil's Nonbinary but didn't come out until after Chapter 6

Vil is a genderqueen GOD

Epel's FtM transgender

Neige's in the closet of questioning (I have always been open with headcanons of him from him being trans, aroace, vegan, secretly a bitch, so that's why I wrote it like that. He's still learning things outside scripts and knowing himself)

Idia I always view as questioning but doesn't really care about pronouns, just doesn't want to deal with the whole thing of picking where he is and coming out

Same for Ortho but Ortho's just happy being Ortho

Lilia's a nonbinary bad-ass FIGHT ME

And sadly I'm not going to use my OCs Arie and Giles in this or @gay-salt-amber's OCs Esther and Amyir for this ask since the tags are glitchy for me but Esther's a beautiful wonderful enby vampy and Amyir is one hella fine and sweet Genderfluid demon

NOW ONTO THE HEADCANONS!

I think it's safe to assume Jamil knew for years

Unless you want to go the route Jamil started as Kalim's servant "friend" after he started going by he/him

In Night Raven, Kalim was very happy to be himself, but that didn't stop the slight fear of changing and someone comments on his body somehow or if someone finds his T-Shots or binder

Once he started attending classes and club activities, he started to learn he's not the only one who's different, which ease his heart and mind a bit

If Jamil knew, Jamil helped Kalim is so much of the transitioning and being carefully, even being the one who'd have to tell the teachers about it for Kalim after Kalim gave him permission, just so something comes up they can know how to handle it (periods, a malfunction with his binder or packer, someone said something, etc.)

If Jamil doesn't know, Kalim feels HORRIBLE hiding such a huge thing from his best friend

Once he started dating his lovers he became very aware he needs to come out to them properly

He does at his dorm

They all hug him and thank him for telling him

They all make sure Kalim's comfortable and not being harassed or feeling discomfort

The main protectors: Jamil, Riddle, Leona, Floyd, Rook, Sebek, and Lilia

Silver and Deuce are the worrying partners over every small thing

Ace, Riddle, and Epel are always prepared for any form of discomfort and dysphoria when it comes, also Trey and Cater but that's thanks to being here so long

Malleus once threw a dude who commented on Kalim's binder one hot day. He didn't know what it was and was confused why he was yeeted

Rollo's a bit confused by the term but he does lots of research and Kalim's open for any questions he has

One time Kalim got a few whiskers on his chin and he eagerly showed it off and was showered by so many compliments

Lowkey inspired by a real thing with my friend, Kalim had to use the foam version of his T-Shots and luckily hasn't ran out yet

When Jamil came out Kalim went shopping with him to help ease him and show he has an ally

Kind of saucy but Chenya once felt bolt and ask Kalim what sexual things are okay with and that unlocked like 10 to 20 minutes of a deep conversation of the subject cause turns out Kalim never thought of that before

The explore it safely and done very scary yet strong search results on the internet, communication is key in the end my friends

[dross-the-fish]

Started hanging out with some new friends in a Discord server on days when work from home is slow but I'm not able to leave my desk to draw or write, and I'm honestly surprised by how good of a time I've been having, how at ease I feel. This is the first friend group I've had where most of, if not all of, the people in it are queer in ways that are similar to myself, and not just cisgendered gay or bisexual people, but people who are also non-binary/genderfluid and on the aro/ace spectrum. After a lifetime of being friends with people who were mostly straight or gay and almost all of them cis except for maybe the odd binary-transperson all of whom are allosexual. It also made me realize that I've been walling myself off from most of my old high school friends for the duration of our relationship and haven't even noticed it. I always tend to sit and let little comments slide because I don't want to get into a debate or call too much attention to aspects of myself I'm still figuring out. Dealing with behaviors that were vaguely phobic and excusing them as my friends just "not knowing better," because they seemed well intended otherwise and nothing said was overt. Feeling like before I presented ace characters to them that I needed to have some justification and explanation at the ready and brace myself for people to try and tell me that "well this character can still have sex right?" or "What's the point of making x aromantic?" because they were allosexual and alloromantic and couldn't enjoy characters that weren't "available" in that way. Debates about whether asexuality should even be part of the LGBTQ spectrum weren't common, but they happened. Being made to feel like not being attracted to my partner was unfair to my partner because "everyone deserves to feel attractive to the people who love them." "A stands for Allies" is a thing that came out of one friend's mouth. "Non-binary is trans-lite," is another. "I could never love someone I wasn't attracted to, it must suck so bad to have that part of you missing." When I eventually came out as gender fluid, they seemed accepting but never bothered to use masc pronouns because I still accept fem ones. So they just felt free to ignore my gender all together and one of them even slipped and tried to correct someone who called me "sir" because it was that easy for her to forget, even with me standing right there in a chest binder and men's clothing.

There was always been an element of being ready to defend myself, of weighing my words before I spoke them and agonizing over whether I'd have to hear empty platitudes, excuses of people just "not being used to it" and an obvious, palpable discomfort that no one was willing to unlearn, that would be left for me to bear and to feel like I was at fault for creating by simply existing. And I never noticed it because it was so prevalent and it was still preferable to the blatant hostility most of the conservative population around here has for the LGBTQ community. I can talk to these people about every other thing under the sun, call them when I'm in trouble and they'll help me and turn to them for advice and support in every other area...but the little things still matter. Even when I told myself they didn't. Being around people and feeling like I can be unguarded is such a bizarre feeling that I'm almost afraid of it. Hearing one person talk about how an aromatic character I write isn't broken and wanting strongly for that character to be told that by somebody made me want to cry. Being asked if I would prefer couple art to be sfw vs nsfw because the asexuality of one character was taken into consideration actually felt like a big deal because NO ONE HAS EVER DONE THAT BEFORE. I didn't know these things mattered so much until they happened and now I feel I'm at a crossroads and debating if I should make the effort to advocate more for myself among some of my old friends. Acceptance matters, community matters. I always knew this intellectually but it's a whole different level now that I've experienced it. I've learned that it matters to me.

[velvetvexations]

But they still use the n-word, anon. They still use the n-word. Yet you think that years and years ago they were so worried about being "challenged" on grounds of transphobia ("transmisogyny" was not in widespread use at the time) that they felt the need to change their language? Even though they still, to this day, use the n-word.

You're an idiot.

And yes, actually, GNC boys who present in a feminine matter does affect things! You can't seriously pretend that every single depiction of an AMAB person wearing women's clothing could only ever possibly be a trans woman or based on trans women. That's not only ahistorical and erases real people right in front of you, but it also gets fucking racist as hell when you start imposing that view on other countries. Did you know, for instance, that "kathoey", the term "ladyboy" is a translation of, is generally used by people who self-identify as men? Because I'm guessing the answer is "no."

Femboys are and have always been a thing, stop fucking erasing them and appropriating their language just because you desperately want the world to revolve around you.

So many young trans girls are going to come out of this traumatized from the dooming, isolated and potentially trapped in abusive relationships because they'd been indoctrinated into the belief that only other trans women will ever love and support them.

The problem is that it has "fab" in there, so they can't do it like they're trying to do with femboy because it inherently points to "TMEs."

(2/2 ana mardoll) i really dont mind when trans women genuinely criticize specific terrible shit that a trans man has actually done, and mardoll has always been a fucking loser who does all the stereotypical negative shit that people tend to act like trans men do. i just wish people would not act like its standard behavior to be like that and judge us all on the basis of the worst of our community lmao. this is behavior that goes both ways tho, trans men judge trans women like this too. idk lol

The person I've seen most accused of being a ringleader was Neon Yang, who was definitely not that even though they contributed. The one I most remember was the trans woman who said something to the effect of "yeah well it didn't sound like the author was trans so I was completely justified actually" and that drives me up a wall because the transradfem girlies are going to lose their mind when I post the first chapter of Nursed with Kerosine.

I have to answer them mostly in batches, with a few exceptions, because I get so many.

@ratbastarddotfuck

Imagine if everyone just decided to start saying a PoC who votes Republican is white.

It's going to be difficult for them to ever actually make a callout post for me because they can screenshot my takes but there will never be a single piece of evidence that I've ever harassed anyone and they know it.

It's not just about taking it seriously, but it's extremely repellent just as content and can be severely triggering, which it would have been for me if I hadn't watched it when I was a teenager before The Deeplore Trauma settled into my bones. I don't think I can even get into the later stuff now because of the association.

But fuck me gently with a chainsaw, everything else about it should be immensely cool and it sucks it's not in something that isn't weighed down by that.

Explicitly using dysphoria as a plot point like that is interesting and does sound like good fuel for a transfem headcanon.

No, it isn't, the only thing being discussed is whether he fits the criteria for "TMA" or not, and he does.

Buffalo Bill is not a stereotype of trans women, and in fact I applaud and deeply appreciate the author for making that crystal clear and treating trans people with great respect and sympathy for the time in which it was written, but he became the model for a stereotype of trans women that transphobes have taken and ran with since the day the the movie came out.

[supernaturalscribe67]

Lucky

Words: 4,699

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: Dean/Sam Winchester x Trans!FTM!Winchester!Reader [Platonic]

Warning(s): Mention of surgery, references to top surgery recovery, slight gore (maybe?), language (also, maybe?), loving and supportive family members, fluff

Summary: Top surgery was never something the reader thought was possible. With the help of Sam, he was able to make his dream come true, and his brothers are there for him to help while he's in recovery.

Request:

I would absolutely love Dean and Sam with a younger trans brother who just got top surgery and is in recovery? Just fluff of like helping him wash his hair or getting things for him and reassuring them? Love your content so much!! It so nice to see some more trans content in the supernatural fandom :)

@cometcreates

A/N: I am so sorry this took a little longer to get out than I planned - work has been extremely hectic and draining recently - but I hope you like it! Let me know what you think! Feedback is greatly appreciated!

Much love!

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

People define luck in many different ways. Some say luck is a dollar bill lying on the ground, some say it’s a passing grade once they get their tests back, and others say it’s their true love. (Y/N), however, would define his luck as waking up every morning in the Men of Letters bunker with his brothers. 

Years ago when he came out to his older brothers as transgender, although they were a little confused at first, they were fully supportive. They did everything in their power to make sure that their little brother was comfortable, not only in their home and out in public but in his skin as well. They purchased a binder for him, got him better clothing, adjusted rather quickly to his name and pronoun change, and got defensive - sometimes a little too much - whenever someone misgendered him. With all that they were doing for him, (Y/N) couldn’t imagine how luckier he could get. He already had an amazing support system, what else could he need? 

At the end of last year, Sam approached him and asked him if he had been wanting to get top surgery, something they had talked about once or twice, but never regularly. When (Y/N) showed his interest in getting the surgery, Sam told him that he had done some research about different places where he could potentially get the procedure done, as well as all the criteria that certain places needed for him to qualify. After they sat and talked for a while, they concluded that, with Sam’s assistance, they would get started on (Y/N)’s journey toward top surgery. 

The months following consisted of semi-monthly visits with a psychologist Sam found in Hays, KS - all of the medical professionals required a steady diagnosis of gender-dysphoria from a registered psychologist to be able to consider the patient for the operation - as well as reading up on the aftermath of the surgery and what was to be expected. Of course, (Y/N) knew he would get all of the information from his surgeon before it was done, but he wanted to make sure he was well-informed and nothing was left out of the consultation. 

The consultation went well, and, after waiting for an eternity in the examination room, the doctor finally came in and set up the date for the surgery. (Y/N) was over the moon, and he immediately began to count down the days. Sam and Dean helped him get all of the necessary items he needed for the surgery recovery; various snacks, scar care creams, a surgical binder, a mastectomy pillow, and an extremely cozy blanket that he had begged them to buy. Even after they had gotten everything on the list, occasionally, they would buy something they thought would be beneficial for the recovery period. 

Then, they waited. Day after day went by and (Y/N) found it difficult to focus on hunting rather than the anxiety and anticipation that bubbled within him, but his brothers kept him grounded in times of distress. They could tell just how excited he was, and they never wanted to dampen the mood by turning his focus back on the job. They wanted him to keep that enthusiasm even after he had the surgery. When the day of the surgery came, they didn’t even try to calm his excitement. Just seeing how happy he was made them feel the same. 

The surgery went well. The recovery was going to be the hard part. The doctor made sure to prescribe him pain medication, which the brothers had picked up before they left the surgical center to head back to the bunker, and gave him a pamphlet describing all of his recovery needs in grave detail. Of course, they had already been well-prepared for the occasion, but it was nice to have it on hand. (Y/N) stayed in the hospital under observation for two days until he was finally released, clad in nothing but a pair of shorts, some slides, his surgical binder, the drainage tubes and bulbs connected to each incision underneath the binder, and one of Sam’s flannels that rested against his shoulders, keeping the front open to allow his chest to breathe. After he was wheeled and loaded into the back of the car, the three brothers made the drive back home. 

By the time the Impala edged its way into the well-lit garage, the sun had gone down, and the night sky was littered with stars. It wasn’t a long way to Lebanon from Kansas City, about five hours depending on traffic, but the trip wasn’t entirely painless. (Y/N) was thankful for the medications he was given after his surgery, but the bumpy backroads in Kansas were ruthless and did little to provide a comfortable drive home. He initially tried to sleep through the journey, but every pothole they hit - accompanied by an apology from his oldest brother - sent another wave of discomfort coursing through his chest. He had never felt more joy in his entire life than when he saw the familiar dirt road as he and his brothers got closer to the bunker. 

Dean parked the car and killed the engine. He turned, arm draped over the back of the front seat. “You feeling okay?” He asked. 

(Y/N) glanced over at him and gave a small nod. He adjusted himself and winced as the pain shot through his arms and chest. “Just sore, hurts like hell. When am I due for my next round of meds, Sammy?” He turned to his older brother in the passenger’s seat. 

Sam looked back at him for a moment and then down at his phone screen. “You should be able to take some more now. Why don’t we get you inside and into your bed first? That way we can get you something to eat and drink with your medicine.” 

“No food,” (Y/N) groaned. “I don’t feel like eating now.” 

“You have to eat something.” 

“Fine, I’ll eat some crackers, or something small, or one of those snack cakes I got, but I really can’t eat anything filling right now. I’ll eat some more in the morning when I’m feeling better.” 

“Alright,” 

“Now, can someone let me out? These doors are surprisingly heavy.” 

“Yeah!” Dean said, quick to jump out of the car and head towards the back passenger’s side. He opened the door and held out a hand. 

(Y/N) smiled weakly as he reached over and grabbed Dean’s hand. He was slow to move out of the seat and plant his feet on the ground. When he stood, his legs shook, but he let out a sigh of relief. His legs were weak. The recovery had consisted of laying in his hospital bed and, occasionally, getting up and taking a few steps inside his room, just to keep the blood flowing in his legs. With the lack of energy he had and the five-hour ride back, his legs felt completely numb, as if they were made of Jell-O. 

Dean held (Y/N)’s hand tightly while his opposite arm wrapped around his waist. He moved him away from the car and shut the door. The two of them made their way to the bunker door. Sam jumped out of the car and caught up with them as they walked inside. When they were greeted with the metal stairs that landed in the War Room, (Y/N) stopped. He let out a sigh of defeat. 

“This is going to hurt like Hell,” he mumbled. He reached a shaky arm over and grasped the railing until his knuckles paled. 

“We’ll take it slow,” Dean nodded softly. 

(Y/N) returned the nod and they began to walk down the stairs, one step at a time. The entire time they walked, Dean held onto him tightly, both of their eyes cast down towards the steps. Each step, despite the snail’s pace they walked at, made a jolt of pain shoot through (Y/N)’s back. A pained expression crossed his face multiple times as he pressed his lips together tightly. 

Finally, they reached the bottom of the stairs and another contempt sigh left (Y/N)’s lips. Sam brushed past them. 

“I’m going to grab your crackers and water and meet you in your room, okay?” He placed a gentle hand on (Y/N)’s shoulder. 

“Sounds good,” (Y/N) flashed a thumbs-up towards him before Sam walked down the hallway, toward the kitchen. 

(Y/N) was a little quicker when they walked through the halls, and he was thankful when they reached his room. He wasted no time parting himself from his brother and making his way over to his bed. Despite his shaky legs, he held himself up well. He turned on the lamp on his nightstand, illuminating the room with a faint yellow glow. 

His bed was neatly made with multiple pillows resting at the head - the doctor recommended that he slept elevated for the first week or so and then slept on his back for several months afterward. It would be an adjustment, but (Y/N) knew that he could get used to it. 

He climbed into his bed, careful of the collection bags on his chest, and crawled underneath the layers of blankets. Instantly, he relaxed into the plush mattress, head resting on the stack of pillows behind him. Dean waltzed deeper into the room, eyeing him carefully. 

“You okay?” He asked. 

“Better now that I’m in bed,” (Y/N) looked over at him. “Although it just feels like I’m in another hospital room.” 

“At least you won’t be eating any more hospital food,” 

(Y/N) grimaced. “Don’t remind me of that, I’ll throw up.” 

Sam entered the room, a bottle of water in one hand, the white bag with (Y/N)’s prescription narcotics tucked under his arm, and a small sleeve of saltines in the other. He set the water bottle and saltines down on the bedside table and opened the bag. He took out the orange pill bottle and fished out an oval-shaped white capsule. He handed it to (Y/N), who took it gratefully. He popped the pill into his mouth and drank some water to wash it down. 

“You should probably empty those soon,” Sam said, gesturing towards the bags that rested against (Y/N)’s stomach. 

(Y/N) glanced down at them and shook his head. “The doctor said every twelve hours should be good. They changed them right before I left the hospital, so they should be fine for right now.” 

“Alright, if you say so,” Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you need anything? TV? Books? Some snacks?”

“I’m good, thanks. I think I’m going to catch some shuteye for a bit. That car ride took all the energy out of me.” 

Sam nodded and turned to walk towards the door. “If you need anything, let us know.” 

“I will, don’t worry.” 

“Seriously,” Dean piped up. “If you need anything, even if it’s small, just holler or shoot us a text.” 

(Y/N) couldn’t help but chuckle. The overprotective nature of his brothers was something that never changed. “I promise I’ll call if I need anything.” 

Dean and Sam both gave him a small smile before they turned and left the room, closing the door behind them. (Y/N) marveled in the silence. No nurses walking outside of his room, no snoring from his brothers on the pull-out beds, no heart monitors beeping constantly. It was peaceful. He reached over and turned off the lamp light, flooding the room, once again, with darkness. The darkness was something he missed. He would never take his pitch-black room for granted ever again. 

He awoke six hours later, around the time when the medication began to wear off and the pain resurfaced. He had tried to reach over to the nightstand and grab the pill bottle, but his arms were too stiff. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up, a grunt falling from his lips. The pain wasn’t as bad as it had been the day after surgery, it was mostly the sore tenderness he felt in his chest and back that bothered him. When his feet touched the floor, he was able to lean over and grab the pill bottle with ease. He uncapped it, took out another capsule, and popped it into his mouth, followed by a drink of water. The medication would start working in twenty minutes or so. 

The ache wasn’t only in his chest and back, however. As he downed the water, he felt it fall into his stomach. A gurgle sounded from his gut and he placed a hand over it. He probably shouldn’t have taken the medication on an empty stomach. He needed some food. For a moment, he considered the saltines on the bedside table but quickly tossed out the idea. They didn’t sound as appetizing as they had before he went to sleep, and even then he had only accepted them to make his brother feel better. He wanted some real food. He wanted some of the snack cakes that he got for the occasion. The real question was; could he get up and walk to the kitchen by himself without bothering his brothers? It was still early, so they were most likely asleep. They had been with him the entire time he was in the hospital, and he wanted to make sure that they got the sleep they deserved. 

(Y/N) placed his hands on his knees and let in a deep breath, his eyes falling closed for a second. With a quick exhale, he hoisted himself off of the bed. His legs quivered, and he had to reach back towards the bed to steady himself. After he stood for a couple of minutes, the blood seemed to flow back through his legs. They were unsteady, but less than they had been before. He shuffled his way towards his door and opened it, glancing up and down the hallways. He then made his way towards the kitchen. The sound of his stomach growling echoed throughout the corridor. 

“Damn, I’m getting you food, calm down,” (Y/N) mumbled to himself. 

It took a lot longer for him to get to the kitchen than it had taken to get to his room the night before. He was slow, uncomfortably so, and he hated it. He felt like an old man. At least I’m an old man without tits, he thought. 

When he got into the kitchen, he walked over to the pantry shelves and glanced up. Sat on the second highest shelf were the cupcakes that he had been craving. Those delicate, chocolatey, packaged goodies. They were teasing him with the pictures on the front of the box. He wanted one so bad, and he couldn’t even reach them. He could barely lift his arms enough to reach the shelf directly in front of him. He tried to scour the shelf in front of him for something that sounded at least a little bit appetizing, but nothing made his mouth water as much as the soft, chocolate cakes near the top of the pantry. 

Curse you, Hostess. 

Just as he was about to give up and pick something from a more accessible shelf, the sound of padded footsteps echoed down the hallway. (Y/N) turned his head towards the door as Sam entered. Sam furrowed his brows. 

“Hey, what’re you doing up?” 

“Oh, the pain medicine wore off, so I took another one. Plus I’m starving,” he then turned his gaze back to the cupcakes. 

“Do you want me to make you something for breakfast? I can make scrambled eggs.” 

“Sure,” (Y/N) shrugged. “But…I really…want a cupcake.” 

“For breakfast?” 

(Y/N) looked back at Sam. His bottom lip was pushed out in a small, child-like pout. His eyes were big and his brows were tilted up slightly. It was his own signature puppy-dog eyes. Sam’s puppy-dog eyes were good, but (Y/N)’s was better. Those eyes were the reason behind him getting to pick a place to eat or what movie they watched most of the time. 

Sam sighed as he walked over, grabbed the box of cupcakes, and ripped it open. He took out a package and handed it to (Y/N). (Y/N) beamed and ripped the plastic open. He took a big bite of the cupcake and hummed happily. 

“Ok, you have your cupcake, but I’m still going to make you some scrambled eggs. You need to have some real food in you.” 

“Cupcakes are real food, Samuel. Maybe you’d be happier if you ate one once in a while.” 

“And maybe you’d be happier if you ate healthier.” 

(Y/N) stuck his tongue out at Sam. Sam rolled his eyes and smirked before he walked over to the fridge. Meanwhile, (Y/N) trudged over to the table and sat down. 

“You should probably change your bags soon,” Sam said. 

(Y/N) glanced down at the bags and noticed that they were halfway full. He cursed under his breath. “Let me enjoy my cupcake and then I’ll empty them.” 

“Do you need help?” 

“Nah, I got it, thanks, though.” 

Sam smiled and nodded. Without hesitation, (Y/N) shoved the rest of the cupcake in his mouth, a hum of pleasure emitting from his throat. Sam grimaced and turned away. (Y/N) glanced over at him. 

“Don’t judge me,” he mumbled with a mouthful of food before he stood up and made his way to the bathroom to drain his bulbs.

Three days had passed, and (Y/N) had already started feeling better. His movement had increased, the pain was starting to diminish, and the fluid that filled the bulbs slowed. His mental health had noticeably improved and every time he looked in the mirror, admiring his newly sculpted chest, the smile would never fail to stick to his face for hours on end. One thing that he didn’t like about the recovery process though, something that stayed a consistent issue, was the lack of personal hygiene. 

When his doctor told him that he wouldn’t be able to shower for a while after the procedure, he didn’t think that it would affect him as much as it was. Granted, he still took whore baths, using a damp washcloth and some soap to clean his body off the best that he could, but he could still feel the grime that coated his skin. Specifically, his hair was what bothered him the most. It was wet with grease to the point where it could stand up without any assistance from haircare products. (Y/N) felt disgusting. He needed to get his hair clean, quickly, and he couldn’t do it by himself. If he leaned over too much, the strain on his chest would cause the pain to flair up. He needed help. Sam had been busy researching and assisting other hunters who had called while the brothers were on a break from hunting themselves, so (Y/N) went to the next best person.  

(Y/N) knocked on Dean’s door rhythmically. A faint ‘come in’ sounded from inside. He opened the door to see his brother on his bed, lying on his stomach, eyes glued to the television screen in front of him. 

“Hey,” Dean said with a smile. “How’re you doing, kiddo?” 

“Pretty good. The pain’s not as bad today. I was wondering if you could help me with something, though.” 

“Sure,” Dean reached over, grabbed the remote, and turned off the television. He shifted himself so that he was sitting down on the edge of the bed. “What do you need?” 

“Can you wash my hair for me?” 

“I thought you weren’t supposed to shower yet.” 

“I can’t get my chest wet, but I can clean the rest of my body. I’ve been taking whore baths for the past couple of days, but I haven’t been able to get my hair cleaned. Could you help me with that?” 

Dean hummed and pursed his lips. “Yeah,” he said as he stood up. “Meet me in the bathroom, I’ll be in there in a bit.” 

(Y/N) didn’t wait in the bathroom for long before Dean rounded the corner, a chair dragging behind him. He placed the chair in front of the sink and gestured to it. 

“Sit,” he said. 

(Y/N) awed. “It’s like a trashy hair salon.” 

Dean rolled his eyes and chuckled. He grabbed the shampoo and conditioner from the bathroom cabinet as (Y/N) sat down in the chair. He leaned his head back so that it rested against the cool basin. Dean walked over to the sink and glanced down at his head. He grimaced. 

“Damn, kid, you definitely need to wash that hair.” he reached down and touched a lock of his hair, wincing as he pulled his hand back, studying the sheen that the hair left on his fingers. “Ew.” 

“Thanks,” (Y/N) deadpanned. 

Dean smirked. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you all cleaned up.” 

Dean turned on the hot water, the spout shooting out the liquid into the sink. Dean began to run his fingers through (Y/N)’s hair. (Y/N) instinctively closed his eyes. Dean wet his hair, pouring the water over the locks with his cupped hands. 

(Y/N) could remember the last time he went to the hair salon. He was young, around the age of six, and Bobby had taken him to get his hair done. Even though Bobby seemed uncomfortable the entire time he was there, he wanted to make sure that (Y/N) had a somewhat normal childhood experience. (Y/N) was ecstatic, and enjoyed every minute of the haircut. His favorite part, however, was when the stylist was washing his hair. It was something about the way her fingers caressed his scalp, massaging the product into the roots of his hair, that brought an overwhelming sense of bliss. Dean’s fingers weren’t as gentle and soft as the stylist’s, but he sure knew how to give a good head massage. 

Two fingers gently tapped against the side of (Y/N)’s head. He opened his eyes and looked up at his brother. He hummed in acknowledgment. 

“I said ‘Do you like it’?” Dean repeated, a smirk curled into the corner of his lips. 

(Y/N) slowly nodded. The suds dripped down from the side of his head and caressed the outside of his ear. “Feels nice. You should have gone to cosmetology school.” 

Dean laughed. “I meant your chest. How do you…feel now?” 

“Oh,” (Y/N) let out a short laugh. “Honestly, I feel great. I don’t have to bind anymore, which means I won’t have to worry about hunts and catching my breath. I no longer have to worry about if clothes will fit me because of my chest. I don’t look in the mirror and hate what I see…” his voice trailed. “I look in the mirror and I see me. The me that I was supposed to be.” 

The two of them were silent for a while as Dean poured water over his hair, washing out the soap. His fingers caressed the back of (Y/N)’s scalp, watching intensely as the conditioner ran down the drain. 

“You know, if it makes you feel any better, Sammy and I always saw you as our little brother. I mean, you never really did all that girly crap - makeup, playing with dolls, stuff like that. You were always interested in playing with the mud. The amount of times that you would get in trouble with Bobby because you would bring mudpies into his house, or whenever you would track mud inside when it was raining. He got so pissed,” he chuckled, and (Y/N) joined him. 

“But then you got older,” he continued. “And it started to seem like you weren’t really my brother. But…something wasn’t right. I knew something wasn’t right, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Calling you my sister felt wrong. I started calling you my little brother again whenever I told people about you, and then it felt right. When you told us you were transgender, it all made sense to me. It clicked. You never really were my little sister. You were my little brother, just with a few extra parts. Now that you got your surgery, I can see just how happy you are. How comfortable you are, and that means more to me than anything else.” 

The conditioner was gone. (Y/N)’s freshly washed hair laid against the basin. Dean reached over to the cabinet and grabbed out a small hand towel. He ruffled the towel against (Y/N)’s damp hair, making sure to get all of the water off of the side of his face and his ears. When his face was dry, he helped him sit up. 

“And me seeing you like this, I have never felt more proud of you,” Dean concluded. 

(Y/N) glanced up at Dean, brows raised. His wet hair dripped onto his naked shoulder. “Really?” He asked in a quiet voice. 

Dean smiled softly. “Yeah. I’m proud that you told Sam and me how you felt. I’m proud that you got the courage to go through with the surgery, and,” Dean knelt in front of the chair. “I’m proud to call you my baby brother.” 

A lump had formed in (Y/N)’s throat. His eyes glimmered with tears that pooled in their corners. Without saying anything, (Y/N) reached forward and wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck, pulling him into a loose embrace. Dean placed his hands on (Y/N)’s back and smiled into the hug. 

“I owe you and Sam so much,” (Y/N) spoke softly. “You guys take such good care of me.” 

“You don’t owe us anything. That’s just what big brothers are supposed to do.” 

“Not even if I bake you a pie?” 

“Now, if you decide to bake a pie, I won’t turn it down,” Dean pulled away and held his hands up. 

(Y/N) sniffled and wiped the tears away. “I should make Sammy one of those fancy salads he likes.” 

“Oh, he’ll go crazy for that,” Dean mumbled. “Him and his damn rabbit food.” 

“You go crazy for pie, though.” 

“Yeah, but pie is good. Actually good.” 

(Y/N) rolled his eyes, causing Dean to chuckle. Dean stood up and brushed his jeans off, stretching his arms above his head. 

“What do you say we get Sammy and go watch a movie?” Dean asked. 

(Y/N) smiled. “I’d like that.” 

“Great! You go get Sammy and I’ll get the snacks.” 

Dean turned and jogged out of the room. (Y/N) stood and tilted his neck from side to side, noting the small strain in his muscles. (Y/N) grabbed the back of the chair he had been sitting in, but stopped as he saw himself in the reflection of the small mirror. His eyes scraped over his body, from his head down to his exposed hips. He shifted so that he could see his torso from the side.

It was almost as if he was in a dream. Like, at any moment, he would blink and wake up in his bed with his breasts still attached to his chest. For years, he had been wanting to get top surgery, but it never seemed like something he was able to achieve. Never in his wildest imagination did he see himself standing in front of a mirror and feeling proud of the body that he stood in. He no longer saw the body of a woman, the man he was trapped inside and desperately attempting to claw his way out. He saw a man, who he truly was, the real (Y/N) Winchester. 

And as he stared at his chest, a smile appearing on his lips, the words Dean spoke echoed in his head;

I’m proud to call you my baby brother.

Now, (Y/N) Winchester could confidently say that he was the luckiest man alive.

[qqueenofhades]

I keep thinking about the ask you answered a little while ago about people wanting a leftist version of Trump is so scarily true it's unsettling. People keep demanding he "do something" about abortion and gun violence but when anyone is like.... he can't, he doesn't have the votes to, they're like "he's the President he said he would do something why hasn't he done something" and it's like ???? what part of this are you not understanding if he doesn't have the votes he doesn't have the votes. Do they want like an EO or something? I'm just not sure what they expect him to do.

And it's also so fucking annoying to see them go after the Dems at every turn while letting the Republicans off the hook completely and not expecting shit from them. You may just want Biden to write them all off and govern like the GOP doesn't exist but he can't.....exactly do that. That's not how our system works. I wonder if they're just sorely misinformed from how rife Twitter is with complete bullshit or if they understand reality but are just saying this stuff for the outrage clicks.

Honestly, as I've said before, I'm not sure? I think it's a combination of willful ignorance and a desire not to learn anything, ever, that might challenge their deeply felt moral superiority. Just the other day, I had someone in my notes who, while otherwise agreeing with most of what I was saying, also insisted that Biden was "anti-trans." And like. The president who, while VP, famously came out for LGBTQ marriage before his boss, who specifically highlighted the violence suffered by trans women of color in his campaign platform, got the Violence Against Women Act reauthorized and passed with strong new protections especially for trans and gnc/queer victims, has issued statements on Transgender Day of Remembrance, made sure to repeatedly insist to trans Americans that they belong and their lives are valid, etc. etc., is definitely anti-trans, dontcha know?

However, I happen to know that recently, the Washington Post wrote a bad and misleading article about the Biden administration supposedly joining Republican state AGs to prevent trans girls from playing in women's sports. It was picked up by a big liberal account on Twitter and amplified as "a betrayal of everything the Biden administration has stood for since day 1" (which, you'll notice, implicitly agrees that the Biden administration HAS strongly supported trans rights). Then a few days later, the account holder actually read the policy, agreed that it wasn't what was being proposed and the WaPo had done a hatchet job on reporting it, and admitted that no, the Biden administration actually hadn't done a 180 on supporting trans rights. But if all you have is one Twitter account incorrectly reporting on a bad and misleading WaPo article, which is like... layers on layers of deliberately distorted and extremely out-of-context information, and you use that to decide that BIDEN IS ANTI-TRANS, it just. Doesn't make sense. And even if in the extremely likely event that Biden and/or his administration have missed some of the ideological benchmarks arbitrarily assigned to Demonstrate Absolute Purity On This Issue, like. HAVE YOU GUYS SEEN WHAT THE REPUBLICANS ARE DOING??! HAVE YOU?!?!??!?!?!

I don't know if that is where that particular person got the idea or not, but it demonstrates how the left-wing online misinformation ecosystem works, and which is in some ways is extremely similar to the right-wing online misinformation ecosystem. It doesn't matter if the only piece of "evidence" supporting your belief is a single Tweet written by someone who hasn't read the actual policy based on a bad piece of reporting, that evidence is now to be preferred against every single empirical example to the contrary because it's "the real truth" (translation: it confirms what you already want to believe). That is the example that you will whip out every time someone tries to argue with you to the contrary, and you will never accept anything that contradicts and/or disproves it, because that's what you want to believe and now you will. You technically know that there is information out there which doesn't agree with your position, but it is the "wrong information" and therefore cannot be incorporated into your belief system. You likewise refuse to acknowledge any complexities, any other branches of government (once again, I am begging people to acknowledge both SCOTUS and how catastrophically it was fucked by allowing Trump to fill three seats), or anything other than insisting on the impossible and getting mad when it doesn't get done. Which doesn't sound very productive and/or useful to me, but hey. OUTRAGE. OUTRAAAAAAGE.