#So stop tagging his deadname

[leftsidebonfire]

I swear I'm gonna start biting all the "Vinsmoke" taggers. Sanji could not have made it more explicitly clear in the Anime that he HATES that family, those abusive pieces of shit, and wants NOTHING to do with that name or even any association with them.

And every day I come on here and see such lovingly crafted fan arts of Sanji by people who seem to love him so much, only to be TAINTED with that fucking #Vinsmoke Sanji tag.

Like??? Are we blind here??? That's not his name. It's BLACK LEG Sanji, named after his FATHER, Red Leg Zeff. Get it right.

He has no connection to those abusers anymore.

[beesorcery]

google how do i tell my dad that the reason i keep bringing up elon musk's transphobia isn't that i've got gen z political tunnel vision that makes me blind to his "innovation" in electric cars but because i am desperately crying out for you as the father of a trans child to feel just as outraged and angry as i am that that man has so much power

[neverendingford]

.

[headcanonforthought]

Gravity falls headcanon thing?

Dipper is trans (FTM). And has been identifying as a boy since like 4. So Mable is all in his trans business and gives not a single fuck. Of course, because she's a Tumblr online girly, she finds out about the Miku Binder. And falls in love. She spends months searching for one, even attempts making one herself. Untill she finds an Etsy seller who's made a few and buys one. It's not cheap, she wipes out her savings for this. The base binder is high quality, better than anything Dipper has, especially as Dipper gets older and needs more compression. Mable gives Dipper the Miku Binder on his birthday. She's screaming as he opens the gift because she's just so exited for him to see it. Of course when Dipper lays eyes on it, he's horrified. Of course she'd get him an embarrassing gift like this! Of course she'd make this whole thing into a joke! But then Dipper stops, he thinks about that trans kid support group his parents have him in at school... How some of those kids siblings fucking hate them. Deadname then, misgender them, destroy there binders... Dipper looks at the binders tag and realizes its the best binder brand out there. This was at least 100 dollars before the Miku transformation, who knows how much she sank on this gift. But sitting there, with a sister, a twin, who so fully and wholly accepted him, who wholeheartedly spent her savings to buy him a gender affirming garment, when she didn't have to... Dipper thanks Mable for the gift. He promises to try it on after he finished with the other gifts. He wears it every day until he's 19. But he keeps the Miku Binder in his closet, long after top surgery, long after his wedding, long after his kids go to college, he keeps it untill he and Mable are both gone.

[ch0k3herwithaseaview]

@jegulus-microfic | march 7 phase | words: 644

tw: transphobia, anger issues, swearing

When Walburga finally passed away, Regulus and Sirius took their partners to check if there was anything worth keeping in the house they grew up in.

As they entered a shiver went down Regulus spine, all the horrible memories coming back. He wanted to leave as soon as he saw the family portrait hung on the wall across from the entrance. There were four figures painted on it - Walburga, who looked terrifying even in a painting that was supposed to warm her image; next to her stood Orion, haughty, with a mustache covering his mouth; they both had one of their hands each on the shoulders of their children - Sirius and someone Regulus never was.

"Love, you're shaking," a soft whisper came to his ear as a hand reached his back, squeezing lightly in a comforting gesture, calming him down a little. "They're gone, nothing's going to happen, I've got you," James murmured into his hair, kissing him there a moment later.

Feeling a bit less stressed Regulus nodded and smiled at his fiancé, taking his hand. James smiled, too, squeezing the hand lightly.

As they went through the Grimmauld Place lots of expensive, mostly useless shit was found - some swords, ancient piano, silverware made of real silver, Dior plates (why? just… why?) and paintings by famous painters such as Rubens, Monet and some others. Reaching second floor Regulus immediately went to scratch off the name tag on his old room’s door.

"This bitch! She could have just left it, but of course not! It would be too much of a disgrace to the family if anyone noticed!" he yelled, as the tag fell to the floor piece by piece. Regulus started banging on the door, angry to the point that tears of frustration started streaming down his face. "You could’ve just tear it off and not put another one on, but of course you’re too envious for that! I hate you! Do you hear me?! I!" bang. "Hate!" bang. "YOU!" Regulus may have acted a bit psychotically, but who wouldn't in his situation? His own mother was being transphobic towards him even from her grave.

When he calmed down few minutes later, James approached him, kneeling by his side and whipping the tears away. "Better?" he asked Regulus and he responded with a small nod. At that James pulled Reg to his chest and held tight, whispering sweet nothings to him.

***

A few hours after Regulus' breakdown, they had packed up all of their old clothes (most of them were to be sold and the rest would be given to their future children), grabbed some of the nicer things their parents had left behind, and sat in the living room with tea and an old photo album. As they flipped through the pages there were comments like ‘Don’t you have any normal pictures? Like, from a bathtub or a playground or something?’, provided mostly by Remus.

When Regulus turned another page James gasped and Remus whistled. In the photo, he sat at the Christmas Eve table with freshly cut short hair, wearing a black suit and matching tie.

"Your inner Sirius awoke that year, huh?" his brother-in-law asked with amusement.

"Oh, his inner Sirius awoke to the point he even wore a binder to piss them off further. And I, as an ally, acted like I didn’t know who they were referring to anytime someone used his deadname. Mother told me to stop then, remember Reggie?" his brother asked, turning to him. "She said that it was just a phase" they both laughed at the memory. Yes, Walburga almost had a stroke as Regulus walked down the stairs in one of Sirius’ old suits and a new haircut. She was so stunned she forgot to punish him after everyone went home.

"Well," Reg said, smirking smugly "I guess it wasn’t just a phase, mother."

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for headcanoning deadnames for trans characters for symbolism purposes?

im a trans guy (minor if it matters) who's been a fan of this one show for a little over a year. none of the characters are canonically trans, but there's a lot of trans allegories to be drawn from the material if you're me or my mutuals at least. the two main characters are both male and i ended up developing an au where they're both explicitly transmasc as a way for me to just explore trans themes in an alternate narrative. i haven't begun writing it yet but definitely plan to once i feel like it's solidly locked in my brain, and i've been sharing snippets & concepts every so often.

part of this was thinking of how they would've chosen their current names, and name symbolism got me considering what they would've changed them away from as well. one character i thought could've initially been named after his mother so i can draw contrasts between the two, and the name i decided on for her has a meaning that highlights her relationship with her father (and the character's relationship with his father in turn); it's also the name of the character's daughter figure in the show. a lot of the other main character's backstory kind of revolves around his dead sister, so i thought by making his deadname that sister's name then i could turn that into an allegory about transness and childhood and sibling death (and sororicide but we don't have time to unpack all that). i don't plan on ever explicitly referring to the characters by their deadname in the narration, except maybe in an ironic tone, but i think it would be cool to sort of sprinkle in references as subtext to just give the readers something more to chew on.

the thing is i've seen posts around talking about how nice it is to make trans characters/headcanons without once considering their deadnames, or how weird it is for people to consider them, and i definitely agree with the sentiment; one of the biggest goals for many trans people is for their past selves to be completely irrelevant, and i feel a bit guilty for perpetuating something so painful for the general community.

but i still don't think i'm an asshole in any way since these are literally just characters and obviously i'm not going around talking about real people's deadnames or anything. i just don't want to make people uncomfortable/trigger dysphoria if they find someone talking about deadnames for a trans charactsr they're attached to (i've definitely had that happen myself when reading trans fics, enough that i had to stop reading, and i don't know how you'd even tag for something like that). if the general gut reaction to this ask is negative then i'll probably consider just not talking about the deadnames unless someone asks about it, since they're not crucial to the plot at all, just some uhh not so fun tidbits.

anyway sorry this is so long for something i feel like might be a non-issue that i'm overthinking. if you somehow guessed the fandom have a chocolate 🫀 if you're one of my few mutuals who knows who i am from the details of the au then um pretend you didnt see this post.

What are these acronyms?

[easygir1]

Okay so I flipped by mtf detrans / fakegirl content and came up with an idea (the detrans is not for me) that blended it with dykebreaking stuff so here we go I won't often blog about this particular kink so please don't click the keep reading unless you're comfy with detrans stuff it's not something I'd ever wish targeted toward myself.

While browsing orientation play stuff on Tumblr, I found the mtf fakegirl tag / detransition kink. My first thought is like, uh no, even for kink purposes this doesn't do anything for me. But… Then I kinda thought about it from the other side of it? Like, imagine you get a trans girlfriend, and you start pushing her to penetrate you more and more often. She goes on progesterone and starts losing her mind about how horny she is. She has absolutely no problem getting hard and fucking you, and while she's a little hesitant at first, she gets more and more eager. She drops any semblance of a passing voice when she's fucking you, grips you harder and treats you rougher

You can't help but compliment how strong she is and how good it feels to have her manhandle you. She gets a little embarrassed but eventually she starts accepting the compliments. She likes feeling strong. She likes feeling like your protector. She's going from sort of a switchy mess who's not sure what she wants to the permanent top every night - and it is every night.

She starts dressing more butch, still keeping a feminine air about her but looking tougher and more buff than ever before. She was already working out just to keep her strength through HRT but now you can't help but watch the way her shoulders move, the size of her biceps, and remember that she's awfully tall. She gets more confident and aggressive. She holds your waist in public like you're her property. She cuts her hair shorter and stops trying to really pass.

You can't stop thinking about it. You know her deadname, and it keeps echoing in the back of your head. It's such a handsome name for a husband. You were there to encourage her to be herself but now you just want her to be your man. You want a guy who makes decisions for you and could toss you around effortlessly. You want a guy who admits that he sees you as tiny and weak, not this girl who hesitates to call you the filthy slut you are in bed for fear of scaring you. You want him - the person he never was before transitioning, but now he's earned that name. Now he owns you, and you can't help but say his name when you cum all alone.

So can you really be blamed for moaning out her deadname when she fucks you harder and more eagerly than ever before, finally tying you to the bedpost and just having her way with you? It's not your fault for wanting a man so bad, you've known for a while that you need one.

When you look up to see her face, she's pissed alright. She's furious, and she's hungry. She looks at you like she's never needed anything like she needs to destroy you right now. It's a deep growl that makes you sure you were right: "What the fuck did you just call me?"

His hands wrap around your throat and he starts to ram into you. He's not fucking you to make you feel good anymore, he's fucking you like a thing, a toy, a cocksleeve. But that's exactly what feels so good, along with his hands gripping down on your throat. Your head spins and you struggle to say his name again. He only squeezes harder, looking away from your eyes to hunch over, panting and sweating as he slams into you like an animal, pulsing harder and thicker than ever and hurting you so good.

You're already cumming. You can't breathe and the whole bed shakes and you are a fragile little thing compared to his strength and the pleasure that arches your spine and forces out a strangled cry. He cums soon after, and you realize he hasn't pulled out like usual. He's always been worried that he might still be fertile. You hope he is. He lets go of your throat and sits back up, still buried deep in you, and you behold his body, broad-shouldered yet smooth-skinned, that cropped-short hair suddenly fitting perfectly to his handsome face. You see the man you always knew you wanted, and he thanks you for being such a good girl for daddy.

[alaskan-wallflower]

Do you have angsty Darry hcs

Oh boy do I (i’m gonna put tws in the tags too but tw for eating disorder mentions, self harm mentions and alcohol issues)

He was real chubby as a kid, but when he was in like…seventh grade he started working out and he’d managed to lose a lot of weight actually (but that’s just another reason he prides his body, it’s another thing he worked hard for)

But this did cause him to develop unhealthy eating habits that lasted a long, long time

Lile even present day he still struggles with eating sometimes—he’ll withhold food from himself when he doesn’t think he’s doing a good enough job and just lies about “not being hungry”

Only Soda knows, and Pony’s under enough stress, so when Pony’s asleep Soda will slip away to try and convo ce Darry to eat (like 7/10 times he successful)

He also just stops eating at the beginning of his custody of his brothers because he wants them to be full so he lies about having a stomachache but if there’s leftover food and his brothers are genuinely full he says he’ll “try to eat” (it’s a habit he picked up from his dad)

He struggles with nightmares and guilt because his parents death happened on his birthday

Hr HATES his birthday from that moment on—the gang tried to surprise him for his twentieth birthday but as soon as he saw everything he just went rigid and his eyes got that “pleading look in them”-he thanked them but said he was “tired from work” and just sobbed to himself in his room

He cries himself to sleep like every night

He hates being called Darrel because he doesn’t think he can carry his father’s name. He got laid off once because his boss called him it (I feel like people eventually just shorten his name to that out of habit-my deadname is short and people still find ways to shorten it so I think it’s a situation like that lmao) but Darry flipped out

Hr stress bakes and stress eats and then he just feels like shit after because he eats to the point he feels sick and it reminds him of bad days

He definitely struggles with a/h

He used to smoke casually but the real reason he doesn’t isn’t just because he prides his body, but also because he’s afraid he’s gonna hurt himself with them by brining himself

He cuts—he frequently cut in high school and he relapsed really bad the night his parents died to the point he had to use stitches to fix it

I wrote a fix a while ago (i’ll find it when I get home) but he attempted suicide once too because he thought his brother would be better without him

He had to pawn all his football trophies away and the uniform his dad worked so hard to buy him

He drank a lot when Pony ran away because it was the only way he could physically forget (it scared the absolute fuck out of Soda to see his older brother stumbling around at two in the morning with vodka in his hand

This is all I have time for sadly—hope they’re good!

[officeobject]

So, I once posted twice in a row about my (LIVING) teenage ghost boy and someone asked about the context, confused, or worried, or whatever, and I'm a very nice person, so I replied, and then I didn't get a reply back, so FECK THAT - (oh and OF COURSE that was a teenager) - Imma make MORE posts, unlike the fact that I had planned to stop posting in the trans tags, to make MORE people confused, as revenge!

Anyways, so like, what's the normalcy level of some guy who met you within 1-3 days and he's a teenager, and he's willing to tell you his deadname, and also willing to tell you how people treat him and stuff, and ALSO willing to tell you his exact transition goals? Like, is this a common thing?

[makoredeyes]

What do you think the Siddharta Golem was back in the Golden Age? Must have been different enough to Rasputin to be considered his son but we really don't know anything about him.

It’s wild! Because even Rasputin becomes fairly verbose about Felwinter, but not what or who he was before he was risen. (Props to dad for not deadnaming his kid I guess??!?* except I still have this funny impression that Felwinter never liked his risen name much SOOOO )

But Siddhartha. His namesake is telling of course- gone out to wander the world and see it for all its goods and bads first hand, to grossly over simplify things.

Rasputin himself tags the activation record with the quote, "Experience is the teacher of all things." Which sure compounds the intent there.

But looking at that same log, yano Rasputin’s code is always cryptic and full of prose but this one has to be absolute THICKEST of them all:

>>AMYGDALA VOTIVE GRASP>>

V149GAQ145CB120

AI-COM/RSPN: ASSETS//GOLEM//INTERROGATIVE

IMMEDIATE ACTION ORDER

This is a SUBTLE ASSETS IMPERATIVE (NO HUMAN REVIEW) (NO AI-COM REVIEW) (secure/AUTARCH).

Initiate SIDDHARTHA GOLEM upload at DSC-342 to assess integrity of moral structures.

Stand by for CRITERIA:

Under PASSAGE (obsolesce/SIDEREAL):

If NANOBE SONDER is IVORY

If HAMMURABI is ACTIVE and passes human review under context TURING

If DURYODHANA is in FAILURE and passes AI-COM review under context IDES

Set spectrum certification to SMARAGDINE

Else, stand by for CONTINGENT ACTION ORDER:

Set spectrum certification to AMARANTHINE

Initiate human review unless tactical morality is built at MIDNIGHT

"Experience is the teacher of all things."

STOP STOP STOP V149GAQ145CB121

——

I had started to unpack this at one point and got a little lost because Big Red is going WAY the fuck out there with some of his prose in this one. We see the term Sidereal a few times in Destiny lore it’s a fun one they like to use but is a weird term to drop here for example, and as best I can conclude might infer something like “long shot” but like. That’s not really what it means either. So there’s some stuff here that doesn’t really translate and then the fucker uses SMARAGDINE which is a shade of green. GREEN. He means green. Like go.

So like. Even without unpacking everything Tldr the old man is feeling extra poetic he’s having some feels about this and he’s also doing this totally on his own without review from humans or other AI-COMs, specifically in secret. So safe to assume we can confirm yeah Siddhartha was pretty important to Rasputin from the very start.

**I will add that the juxtaposition of NANOBE, which is a form of microbe, a tiny life if you will, and SONDER together really does give me the impression of like. A child. A sort of parental wonder at a tiny individual. But that is a WHOLE LOT of inference.

[winteriron-trash]

pinned faq

hi, my name is roman. i used to be a semi-popular winteriron blog, but now this blog is mostly dead. so. rip, gone but not forgotten. but i still get some pretty common questions so here's a one-stop shop for most of them as well as links to the important things.

My Tumblr Fic Masterlist

My Ao3

My (dead) WinterIron Discord Server

Did you write the Tony Stark wifi tower fic?

yes, i wrote that fic! it is by far the most popular thing i've ever written and it will probably outlive me.

I found that fic on [insert site here], do they have your permission?

probably not, no. i have found that fic everywhere. and i mean everywhere. pinterest, wattpad, facebook, instagram, tiktok, mediachomp, and so on. honestly, it's been years and i can't control or chase down every single copy and i have no interest in doing so. i don't love that it was stolen from me (especially on for-profit sites) but it just is what it is. it's a fanfic rite of passage to have your stuff stolen, honestly.

can i do a translation/podfic/write something inspired by one of your fics/posts?

yes! there is always a blanket permission to do any sort of transformative work with my work, especially my older stuff. if it sparks joy and creativity in you, run wild with it. i prefer to be credited, but honestly, i'm just happy to see my stuff still inspiring people.

will you ever write winteriron/mcu fanfic again?

well, you should never say never. but in this case, you might want to say never. i have very little interest in winteriron or the mcu in general outside of nostalgia, and i likely will never write anything substantial for them again. it's sad, i miss it too, but i just don't have that spark for marvel these days. mostly i write dc comics fanfiction.

did you write [insert winteriron fic/post here]?

idk. maybe. probably. i wrote and posted a lot of things. you can scroll the tag on this blog to find all my old posts, some more popular than others. if you think it was me, chances are, it probably was. i got around a lot from like 2018 to 2020.

do you have a tagging system?

i used to but lord if i'm going to use it now. i don't even remember it, so your guess is as good as mine. tbh i just use tags as a place to ramble these days so navigating my blog is about as easy for you as it is for me. which is to say, it's not easy at all. because tumblr's search function is ass. i do know one of my old tags has my deadname in it. you'll probably find it if you look hard enough, but that is what it is.

are you going to revive this blog?

probably not consistently, no. if i have something i really want to say here, i'll say it, but i don't have much interest in maintaining this like i used to. i want to be able to, i miss posting here a lot, i just don't think it'll spark joy for me the way it used to, which sucks but that's just the way things go.

why did you leave this blog?

idk. life happened. i was an 18-year-old fighting chronic health conditions and mental health issues that led to me dropping out of high school so, tumblr sort of fell to the back burner, then got forgotten about entirely. eventually, i lost interest in the mcu as i felt the quality of it took a turn for the worst and i went back to dc, which i'm still into. i read some marvel comics, enjoy an occasional mcu project, but largely i just don't have the interest i used to. it sucks and i miss it, this blog probably kept me alive as a teenager. but now it's mostly just an archive of my past, and i'm okay with that.

can i talk to you/send you an ask/befriend you anyway?

sure, if you want, don't know if i'm good company though. but i'm always open to making friends and reminiscing about winteriron, marvel, and all that good stuff. i've gotta warn you though, tumblr fucking eats my DMs on this blog like no fucking business. i'm regularly fighting it. my discord is devilbonesofmetal if you wanna yell at me there, just say you're from tumblr.

[4lovehearts]

✷ COMING OUT TO THEM AS TRANS .

꩜ platonic! peter parker(s), miles morales, gwen stacy, hobie brown & pavitr prabhakar x trans! gn reader

𖦹 cw : one mention of accidental outing !!

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎

ꨄ︎ marvel studios! peter parker ;

⋆ supports you from the moment the words leave your lips. definitely hugs you and tells you he loves you either way <3

⋆ will definitely ask about how you want to be referred to as now, like completely, not just name or pronouns, he checks for other gendered words / phrases too !

⋆ lets you explain more on the topic yourself, but also does additional research himself to understand more !

⋆ is totally ready to support you through any transition stage you're in,,, change in style, puberty blockers, hrt, etc,, he's right there supporting you <33

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎

ꨄ︎ tasm! peter parker ;

⋆ doesn't really know what to say at first,, will probably stay silent with a slight smile on his face while trying to think of what to say and end up on “i don't mind, that's- that's cool.”

⋆ exactly like marvel studios peter he'll ask about all the ways you would like to be referred to as now !

⋆ doesn't change the way he is around you at all, aside from being a little tense from not wanting to slip-up and possibly hurt your feelings, he stays the same !

⋆ he doesn't know much other than the basics, so he'll start to dedicate parts of his free time to researching more on trans topics to try and support you better <33

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎

ꨄ︎ miles morales ;

⋆ very chill about it, and makes sure you know that it doesn't change his view on you whatsoever

⋆ probably asks who else knows, and depending on what your answer is will ask how you'd like him to refer to you as when around people you aren't out to !

⋆ he shows his support through not really acknowledging it, just making sure you still feel normal and not making you feel uncomfortable is the way he knows to support you best <3

⋆ for sure the fastest to come up with shortened versions of your new name ( if possible ) / new nicknames to match the new you !

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎

ꨄ︎ gwen stacy ;

⋆ absolutely supports you 100% immediately <3 ( and definitely goes for the same approach as miles' second hc !! )

⋆ the most educated out of everyone here for sure,, and she's very very mindful of her words, so slip-ups are extremely rare !

⋆ she is so so excited to help you explore whatever new style you want, and will tag along with you to go shopping nine times out of ten !

⋆ always encourages you to talk to her whenever you're having dysphoric days,, she may not understand, but she still wants to be there to listen and try her best to cheer you up and affirm you <3

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎

ꨄ︎ hobie brown ;

⋆ will most likely answer with “cool.” afterwards, and continue whatever he was doing,, but he if realizes you need extra reassurance, he'll tell you doesn't care ( in a –– he ‘still thinks you're awesome’ way ) and asks about your new name and pronouns !

⋆ he's pretty familiar with breaking gender norms, so, just like gwen, he'll be extremely helpful while you figure out your new style !

⋆ also like gwen, he's pretty mindful of what he says, so slip-ups are rare with him as well !

⋆ the most likely on this list to knock someone out for purposely deadnaming / misgendering you ....

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎

ꨄ︎ pavitr prabhakar ;

⋆ like miles, he doesn't really acknowledge it because he doesn't understand why he should, you're still his friend and he loves you either way <3

⋆ like tasm peter, he doesn't know much more than basics, so there is a chance he'll tell people you aren't out to yet that you're trans to correct them ( good intentions, wrong execution ),, but will apologize and stop if you tell him you don't like it and want to tell people yourself !!

⋆ will mostly likely stop at libraries throughout the multiverse to try and find out more about the topic, and if that fails, he'll finally turn to the internet !

⋆ i feel like once he starts to learn more about you being trans he'd want to have a celebration of some kind,, like a small hang out with you, him, miles, gwen and hobie to make sure you feel appreciated and know they all still love you <3

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

. . . hugs for all the trans readers here <3 🫂🫂🫂 happy trans awareness week !!! hopefully everyone had the sweetest and happiest week ever !! 🫂🫂 make sure to take care of yourself, you're all so so important !!! 💌💌

p.s. sorry to any trans tobey spidey fans reading ,, since his movies were so long ago i didn't really know how to write for him and just left him out :(

[biancastoaster]

A Lily By Any Other Name (Is Still a Lily)

Category: Gen

Fandom: Psych (TV 2006)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Author Decided Not to Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Carlton Lassiter & OC

Characters: Lily M. Lassiter (OC), Carlton Lassiter, Carlton Lassiter's father, Shawn Spencer

Additional Tags: character death, misgendering, deadnaming, all that fun stuff, OC insert, sad Lassiter, flashbacks, homophobia, transphobia, little brother Lassiter, no beta we die like yin

Summary: Carlton visits his older sister. 

Author’s Notes: Lassiter needed an older sibling, I think it would’ve been good for him. 

I hope you guys like this, it took me a month to write. 

~~~~~~

At his desk, Carlton checked the time. Not yet. 

5 minutes went by before he checked again, and slumped back in his chair in disappointment when he saw it hadn’t been long since he last looked. 

This repeated until it finally was time. He quickly got ready to go. But just before he stood up to leave, Carlton grabbed a small file and put it inside his briefcase. He snapped the clasps shut and briskly began his way from his new office to his car. 

Halfway through the corridor, he’s stopped by an all too familiar voice. 

“Lassie! Where you going?” 

Carlton heaved a deep, exasperated sigh. Without even looking to see who it was, he kept walking away. “Not that it’s any of your business Spencer, but I’m visiting a family member.” 

Shawn caught up, ambling alongside Carlton. “Ooo, who? Is it Lauren? No wait, I got it: it’s your mother…s.”

He rolled his eyes. “None of them. I’m visiting my older sister, Lily.”

Shawn gave a look of surprise. “I didn’t know you had an older sister! Hold on, does she know you named your kid after her?”

Lassiter briskly walked out the door, Shawn still on his tail. “No, that’s why I’m visiting her today.”

“Doooes Marlowe know?”

“Yes, in fact she was the one who encouraged the name.”

“No no no, not that. Well, actually, yeah that too. But, does she know you’re visiting your sister without her?”

“Yes, she’s well aware I’m- you know what, I’m not entertaining this anymore. I need to leave now, I don’t want to be late.”

~~~

1974

It was dark out, the pitch black of night covering the neighborhood in a blanket, the sky dotted with little pinpricks of stars.  

Carlton Lassiter was in his bed, and he was tossing and turning in his sleep, mumbling nonsensical words to himself. 

He eventually woke up with a gasp. He was shaking, and he reached up to feel tear tracks on his face. He could’ve sworn that… 

But no. He was here, at home, safe in his bed. 

He wiped the remaining tears from his face, and tried to go back to sleep. But the adrenaline still lingered, keeping him awake and scared. Shadows seemed to loom from the corners, taking the form of monsters and blank figures. 

Eventually, he couldn’t take being alone in his room anymore. Grabbing his blanket, he gently hopped off his bed and onto the floor, and began making his way to his parents room. 

But right before Carlton even touched the doorknob, he hesitated. He didn’t want to bother them with something like this. His dad would probably just send him back to his room. And besides, their light was turned off, meaning his parents were fast asleep. 

So he kept going down the hall, and up the stairs. 

Carlton crept past the dining room and kitchen, and made his way to his brother Liam’s room. There was a tiny bit of light shining from under the door, nearly invisible to the untrained eye. 

He grabbed the doorknob, and as it made a small jiggling sound the light quickly turned off.

Carlton gently opened the door. “Liam?”

From the bed in the corner of the room, a head belonging to his 12 year old brother popped up from underneath the covers. “CJ? What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

He found himself unable to answer, his face screwing up and tears falling once more. 

Liam sat up, immediately concerned for his little brother. “Hey, hey, it’s alright, it’s alright. Come here.”

Carlton complied, clambering onto the bed and sinking into his older brother’s arms.

“It’s okay, just let it out.”

And he did, slowly hiccuping his way through telling Liam about the whole bad dream. 

The whole time, Liam sat there, rubbing Carlton’s back periodically to try and soothe him, like he had seen people on tv do. 

After sitting for a minute, Carlton sniffled, looking up at Liam. “What were you doing before I came in?”

“Ohh, just rereading The Hobbit.” 

“Can you- can you read it to me?” 

Liam smiled. “Of course. Did you want me to start at the beginning, or where I’m at?”

“Where you left off.”

“Alright then. Get comfy, come on, CJ.”

As Carlton snuggled under the covers, Liam reached under the first pillow and grabbed the book and pen light he had hidden just before Carlton came in. 

He cleared his throat, reading out loud, “As they sang the hobbit felt the love of beautiful things made by hands and by cunning and by magic moving through him, a fierce and a jealous love, the desire of the hearts of dwarves…”

Carlton slowly began to become more and more drowsy as the gentle timbre of his brother’s voice lulled him to sleep. 

“He looked out of the window. The stars were out in a dark sky above the trees. He thought of the jewels of the dwarves shining in dark caverns…”

Right when he was about succumb completely to sleep, he felt Liam gently put away the book and turn out the light once more. 

~~~

present

Carlton carefully pulled into a small strip mall, right in front of a store called ‘The Flower Corner’. 

He walked in, and stood at the desk, clearing his throat to catch the attention of the lady behind the desk. 

She looked up and saw him, and quickly stood up. “Oh hello, sir! How can I help you today?”

“I’m here to pickup a bouquet. It should be under Lassiter.”

“Of course, just one second.” She tapped a few keys on her keyboard, clicking a bit with her mouse as well. “Alright then, I’ll go ahead and grab it from the back.”

Carlton began awkwardly drumming his fingers on the counter as he waited for the employee to get back. 

“Alright, here they are!” 

He looked up and saw a beautiful bunch of flowers, a mix of pink lilies and carnations, all expertly wrapped in decorative plastic to hold it all together. 

As he paid, the cashier asked, “Who are the flowers for?” 

“My sister, Lily.” 

“Awww! Well, I can definitely see why you chose the lilies, then. I’m sure she’ll love them.”

Carlton nodded stiffly. The whole interaction felt awkward to him, and he hated awkward situations. So once he had gotten the bouquet paid for, he tried his best not to run out the door. 

~~~

1976

Carlton was riding in the back of his father’s car, on the way to pick up Liam from his friend’s house. 

He couldn’t remember his name, but he was pretty sure Liam’s friend was on the football team along with Liam himself. 

Looking out the window as they pulled up to the curb next to the house, he saw figures moving around behind the windows, presumably his brother and his friend saying goodbye.  

To his surprise, Carlton watched as his older brother walked out with a girl he didn’t recognize, instead of another guy. Maybe it was Liam’s friend’s sister? 

They had stopped at the entryway to continue a conversation, talking very animatedly, using dramatic hand gestures and exaggerated expressions. 

The two — along with Carlton — were startled when his dad honked the horn. 

Liam gave an apologetic look to the girl, and she burst into laughter. They exchanged a few more words before she gave him an energetic hug, which he equally returned. 

In the rearview mirror, Carlton saw a grin forming on his father. It was very clear what he thought the hug between the two had meant. But Carlton could just tell it wasn’t that kind of hug. He’d seen his parents hug, and girls and boys — couples — hug each other public. However, he had also seen girls hugging girls — their best friends — as well. That’s what kind of hug his brother and the girl had reminded him of.

As Liam climbed into the car, his dad gave him a look. “So, who was that?” 

Liam buckled in. “Just Chuck’s sister, she’s really nice.”

“Really nice, huh?” 

Carlton caught the suggestive look on his dad at the same time Liam did. “No, dad, it’s not- she’s just nice, I barely even know her.” 

His dad laughed. “That’s how it always starts. Soon enough you’ll be all over each other.”

It was then that Carlton noticed his brother’s face. It was red. The same shade of red his mother had at the end of the day when she finally took off her makeup. 

Not red in embarrassment from his father’s comments. He looked as if he’d been rubbing it continuously to get something off.

‘Was that what Liam had been doing? Wearing makeup?’

Later that day, Carlton confronted him, demanding to know the truth. Eventually, Liam caved. 

“Okay, okay, fine. Chuck wasn’t actually there, he had something come up. But Linda was, and… she uh… needed someone to model some of her makeup for her, and she asked me since we have really close skin tones.” Liam twisted his hands. “Her words, not mine.”

Carlton was young, only 8, but he knew when his brother was lying. However, he also knew when he should and shouldn’t pressure Liam with more questions, and decided to leave it alone. 

~~~

present

Carlton pulled out of the flower shop, and onto the road once more. 

He’d been driving for at least another 5 minutes when he hit a pothole that he heard a particularly loud bump from the back. He thought it was his briefcase for a minute, but a quick glance at the passenger seat told him that wasn’t true. There was something — or someone — in the trunk. 

Carlton pulled over to the side of the road, and grabbed his gun from his holster and cocked it. 

He pointed it at the trunk door, and quickly opened it. “Freeze!”

Light flossed the trunk, and a very familiar high pitched girlish scream emerged from inside. “Nonono don’t shoot!” 

“Spencer? What the hell are you doing here?”

Shawn clumsily clambered out of the trunk, tripping momentarily before regaining his balance. “I just wanted to meet your mystery sister, man. I’ve known you for what, 8 years? And I’ve never heard you talk about you ‘big sister Lily’.”

Carlton took a deep breath. “Spencer…” he briefly thought about ditching him on the side of the road. But a quick look told him that would be inhumane. And probably illegal. He ran a hand down his face exhaustedly. “Fine. You can come.” Shawn pumped a fist. “But you’re sitting in the back.”

“Tch.” Shawn made a dissapointed face, but got in the backseat anyway. 

~~~

1978

Carlton was hiding in his room, trying his best to drown out Liam and his father’s argument they were having just down the hall. 

Liam had been caught underneath the bleachers at the track, locking lips with the captain of the football team. Chuck, Liam’s so-called best friend, was the one to catch them, snitching on the couple to Carlton’s father. 

Which was what the current argument between the two was about.  

Everything was mostly muffled, thanks to Carlton shoving a pillow over his head to drown out the noise, but he definitely heard his father say something along the lines of ‘not raising his son to be a faggot’. 

At this, Liam raised his voice even more, becoming sou loud it permeated through the pillow. “I’m not gay, Dad!”

“Oh really? And how’s that, huh?”

“Because I’m a girl!”

There was a tense silence, shortly broken by the sound of a sharp slap, followed by quick footsteps running down the hall and up the stairs. Carlton could practically feel the slam of his brother’s- no, not brother, his sister’s bedroom door reverberating through the house. 

He waited for the sound of his father following after, but there was nothing.

Quietly, he opened his door. Carlton silently tiptoed upstairs, making sure he didn’t make too much sound. After a short trip, he made it upstairs, gently knocking on the door to his sister’s bedroom.   

“Are you alright-” he opens the door, and stops. So does Liam, who’s in the middle of shoving a t-shirt into a slowly overflowing backpack. “Liam? What are you doing?” 

Carlton sees her wince at the name. “I just… need some space from dad. I’m gonna stay at a friend’s house for a bit, wait for him to cool down a bit.”

“But, why is he mad at you for being a girl?”

She sighed. “I don’t know, buddy. Some people just, I can’t- they’re not really-” Her face started to scrunch up, eyes filling with tears. “But don’t worry, I won’t be gone for long, okay?”

He didn’t understand, but he nodded anyway. “Okay…”

She slung her backpack over her shoulder, and slid the window leading outside open. Just before slipping out, she paused and turned around. “Hey Carlton, can I ask you a favor?”

He perked up a little. “What is it?”

She scooted to the edge of the window, prepping to jump down. “Remember how you asked all of us to stop calling you CJ?” 

At least Carlton was able to understand this. “Yeah. It felt like a girly name to me.”

She smiled. “That’s kind of what I’m doing. ‘Liam’ doesn’t feel right.”

“Well, what do you want me to call you?”

“Lily. Just call me Lily instead.”

“Lily.” He tested it out “Okay. Bye Lily.”

“Bye Carlton. I’ll see you soon.” And with that, she jumped from the windowsill and landed nimbly on the soft grass far below. Lily wasted no time in booking it down the road, her figure quickly fading from sight as the night swallowed her. 

~~~

Present

Carlton’s hands subconsciously gripped the steering wheel as he remembered that night. He did get to see her again after that. Very soon, in fact. Just not in the way he had hoped. 

It had been a hit and run. There was only one bystander, and they hadn’t been close enough to see the car’s details in the pitch black of night. 

Carlton remembered sitting in the hospital waiting room with his parents and Lauren, the latter of whom was napping in her baby carrier, anxiously anticipating any news of Lily’s condition. 

He remembered someone coming out and whispering to his parents solemnly, something about Liam’sconditions, and how he wasn’t going to make it. 

He remembered going to her room and being told to say his goodbyes to Liam, seeing her broken and damaged body lying limply on the hospital bed. 

He remembered begging her still unmoving body to come back, to not leave him alone. 

He remembered being dragged away, tears flowing like a river as her heart monitor flatlined. 

He remembered his father reprimanding him, telling him he was tarnishing Liam’s memory by calling her Lily. 

He remembered that was the night that the last shred of respect he had for his dad crumbled away. 

It was as though he had just gotten to know his big sister, and then she was yanked away from him. 

As much as he hated it, it was the final push he needed in finalizing his decision of pursuing a career as a police officer, then head detective, then his current position as Chief of police. 

“Wait, Lassie this is-” Shawn cut himself off, immediately realized where they were going. “Oh man. I- I’m sorry, I had-”

“It’s fine, Spencer. You didn’t know.” Carlton said, his tone uncharacteristically soft.  

He pulled his car onto a gravelly path, bumping slightly along as he searched for-

There. He could see it from here. It wasn’t like it could be moved, but he almost always lost it in the sea of granite and marble, and would have to go on a search. 

He parked, and reached into the passenger seat where his briefcase and the bouquet still sat. 

“I’ll just- just wait here, Lassie. Me and dead people… it’s really depressing.”

“I wasn’t going to ask you to come anyway, Spencer.” Just before he closed the door, he pointed a threatening finger at Shawn. “You touch anything in here and I will not hesitate to shoot you. Copy?” 

Shawn said nothing, simply giving him a mock salute. Carlton rolled his eyes and shut the door. 

He walked up to a gray marble tombstone. The area had been mowed recently, so there was still some grass clippings scattered on the base of it. 

Liam Lily Mark Lassiter 

1962-1978

son daughter, brother sister, friend

Carlton smiled a bit to himself. Normally, he was opposed to defacement of property, but this was an exception in his eyes. Lily deserved to have her true name on the stone that marked her final resting place. 

He kneeled down and, after brushing away the grass clippings, gently set the bouquet in front of the tombstone, making sure none of the words were obscured. He’d already taken the plastic wrapping off. The world didn’t need more trash littered everywhere. 

“Hey Lily. I know it’s been a while. A few months, actually.” 

Carlton shifted a bit, trying to get comfortable. “I got promoted. I’m Chief of police now, like I’ve always worked for.” 

The tombstone sat silently.

“Uhmm, Marlowe gave birth, too. In the back of a food truck, of all places. Of course, it was all Spencer’s and Guster’s fault. I’m sure that doesn’t surprise you, huh?” 

Silence.

He continued. “It’s a girl, and god she is so beautiful. She has your eyes. We named her after you.” 

Still silence. 

“I have something else.” He reached beside him for his briefcase, and pulled out the file from earlier. “I managed to get your name legally changed. It was one hell of a legal battle, but Mom and Althea and I managed it. You’ll be getting a new tombstone soon, one with your real name.”

Taking a deep breath, he went on. “I miss you, Lily. But, not as much as I used to. I hope you don’t mind.”

A gentle breeze brushed by him, ruffling his hair. 

Carlton cleared his throat. “I’m… not good at saying goodbye. Even after all these visits. You’d think I’d get the hang of it by now.” 

Somewhere in a nearby tree, a bird tittered. 

“Okay, I’ll try to come back sooner next time. I know you don’t like waiting.” He packed up his briefcase once more, and turned away, heading back to his car. 

~~~

Bonus: 

Lily watched as he left, swinging her feet from the tombstone, a soft smile playing on her lips. She looked exactly how she had when she died, but somehow emulated an air of femininity she would never have been able to achieve while alive. 

She waved, even though she knew her little brother wouldn’t see it. “Bye, Carlton.”

[jin-jamm-desu]

SatoSugu but it T4Tppppa

Fluffy/No Lemon!, GAY, trans Gojo, Trans Geto, technically Canon Compliant, doomed!yaoi because if I can't be happy then neither can you, T4T, fanfiction

Paring- Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto

WARNINGS- [Name/Pronoun] - when a character is called by their dead name or they are misgendered. I won't call them or make up a deadname for them, this is just to show you when its happening.

Red is for [Geto]

Blue is for [Gojo]

-&-&-&-&-&-&-&-&-&-&-&-&-&-&-&-&-&-&-&-&-

Part 1

- it was so odd coming to Jujutsu High in Tokyo- such a big empty school, away from civilization in a way. it was nestled aways in the mountains. and at some point- you'd have to stop taking a car so you could walk the winding stairs on foot.

- 'this should be fun', was thought by a certain new sorcerer to the school.

- '[he] calls [himself] [Suguru Geto], and [he] has just transferred here from a different school in the city', spoke Yaga, one of the few teachers at the highschool. he said this to two of his pupils, Satoru Gojo and Ieiri Shoko.

- he had known both of them since they came to the school.

- Gojo hailed from the most prestigious jujutsu clan, the Gojo Clan, and was heralded as 'The Strongest' since his birth. he was the only sorcerer on earth who wielded the Six Eyes and Limitless techniques. as of now, noone was able to match him, for he was a greatly apt and skilled fighter. monumentally great and perfect at all things he set out to do. but even if those were the luxuries afforded to him by his title and skill- he was not free of the weight of the chains that shackled him to his duty as a jujutsu sorcerer.

- being the strongest, as one could only describe Satoru Gojo, meant keeping and holding and uplifting extreme expectations in the jujutsu world - at least, that's what Gojo was taught since birth.

- Ieiri Shoko was one of Gojo's closest friends. She was a sorcerer who was gifted with a great grasp of RCT, Reverse Curse Technique, and was on her way to becoming one of the greatest jujutsu technical doctors today. She was more aloof, as one could put it, than Nanami and Yaga combined. even so- she always found a way to put up with Gojo's attitude.

- Gojo didn't seem very interested in the new transfer student, so he didn't hear when Yaga had told him that he'd be the one to show [him] around the school. after Shoko left for something else, and after having repeated himself for a 3rd time when Gojo was listening- Yaga sighed, stood up and walked towards the window where he began to muse-

- 'Gojo', started the teacher, 'make sure you're nice to the new kid. make 'em feel welcome. i heard that [he] was kicked out of his old school for not only the misuse of [his] cursed technique, but also for something that seemed more... personal. hopefully you'll both get along. i'd hate to see someone feel as cast out as you did before.'

- the mention of the first days when Gojo came to jjh made him cringe. he tried to keep himself neutral to all things, but remembering the things he had endured before coming here was something he couldn't stand the think about.

- Gojo stood and bowed silently before leaving the room to find the new student. face stoney and uncharacteristic, he made his way through the almost bare balls of JJH. passing a few students that whispered and gawked at him in envy, intimidation and judgement. unfortunately for him, as much as he'd like to not admit it, almost everyone knew who he was before coming here. yet not a single soul even dared to confront him about it.

@arcielee @katkot333 @humanransome-note @sillyariii @numelfanclub

End of Part 1

If you want to I will create a tag list for you

[mr-bisk]

Fukkkkkk I want to spoil the surprises of my fics but i don't want to ruin them for who follows me on tumblr.... I guess fuk-ich, idk how to format a post, but it cant be that hard, am I Right!?

Spoilers and HC's under the cut:

Also TW: i can't continue w/o advising: if u got a cringe allergy, ingestion might block your throat. I don't want to kill anybody(yet) so maybe skip this one.

CW: Spoilers for the chapter amouts and last chapter; Transphobes DNI lol, I made all of them Queer and I'll die on this lane; Little Vents(more than one, kinda?); Mention of Fan-Childs.

First of all: The ending. The fanwork just will get 4 chaps cuz i can't drag stuff yet. To spoil the ending, Bill will have a panic attack upon not being able to avoid feeling queer at Josh's presence, gets a hold of his mother's whisky, drunkly and pathetically call Josh to come to his house and out of pity he will attend. They end up alone in Bill's room and end up kissing. It doesn't stop Josh from going to college, much for the opposite effect as he gets scared and confused, but plans to come back to Eltingville soon with a clearer mind.

Pete HC: 🅱️ete is transmasc, stealth-trans. His parents saw it coming from a young age and are actually supportive. They help him hide away his deadname and other stuff that would direct hate towards him. His dad loves having a male son that is interested in helping him with brute shit, although he doesn't endorse his interest in horror and nerd stuff, it is the exception.(also Jer knows his deadname as they are childhood frens.)

Jerry HC('s, theres A LOT of stuff): 1st, Jerry is transfem. 2nd, PeteJer is real. 3rd: I made BillJer virtually impossible timeline-wise bc Bill assumes himself as gay a little after Jer's Egg-Hatchin', also he has the fastest but most oblivios gaydar(maybe queer-dar, idk??) and never felt attracted to Jer.(also yeah, i hold a grudge for the flood of billjer we had when eltingville blew up. Like, Frrr? the whitest, most bland ship u cold think off got popular!?! No hate if u like it, theres loads of gr8 stuff under the umbrella, I'm just not kin.)

Vent: I still love eltingville, don't see the end off the brainstorm/interest flood on the horizon yet- ....Buuuuuut I can't hold myself from feeling like I'm making a disservice to the BillJosh tag. I just begun to write again and posted it on AO3 to prevent me from quitting, and The Damn™️, I feel like my work is meh at best. I'm a perfecctionist, and there are plans of it being re-written, so if u like it, hop in the future when i got enough EXP. and writing turned into a pleasure again.

Bacc to the fanfic. There will be at least 3 more projs. after I conclude this one: A continuation where Josh comes back to Eltingville to see Bill and ends up dragging him to Boston; A PeteJer bittersweet tale with two parts in which(as it is in my brain rn, change might come) mirrors the BillJosh plot, you'll have to wait to see; And a Jane-centered story BECAUSE I 💜 HER!!1!!

I.... Okay.... Last one. The cringiest and most personal yet: There will need to be a Miracle, a fucking change of heart of me to not put Fan-Childs at some point.... yeah. Look, I myself plan of becoming a Father/Ba irl and it pours in the way i see relationships. If thats a big ass No-Hell-No! to u, Maybe do not hop into the fishing line of my fanworks, because it is a big factor in the way i view it's development.

[americanphysco]

I decided to try my hand at posting some original fiction (that I may be tweaking and submitting to a local lit mag in the spring) if any of you are interested in reading it!

-

Namesake (2313 words)

Summary: 21 year-old Jesse is forced to ask his boss for a favor, a lift to work, after his car breaks down for the utmost time. They discuss potential baby names despite the awkward tension, culminating in a suggestion that hits a little too close to home for Jesse.

Notes: This is an original work exploring a transgender character's evolving relationship with his deadname, the family history behind it, and what it means to pass that name on to someone new. Mild content warnings for mentions of weed and mentions of transphobia.

Here is the story itself for those of you who prefer not to read on AO3.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

Of course, on today of all days, when I had already woken up late from my afternoon nap, did my car battery have to give out. It’s the second time this month that I’ve needed to jump my car, but the $150 price tag made it a choice between groceries and a new battery, so that purchase will have to wait.

Usually I’ll ask my neighbor to help me out here. Mr. Davids is a Navy vet with an iron scowl and a heart of gold, and he’s always willing to lend his car for some juice or the occasional ride. He says I remind him of his son but, seeing as his son doesn’t come around much, I can’t tell if it’s a compliment.

Today Mr. Davids is at the senior hall for bingo night. He says it’s gonna be a hell of a tournament, and that there’s even an Applebee’s gift card on the line.

Besides him, I don’t know who to call. Most of my friends are away at colleges along the coast, the big artsy kinds of schools I could never afford, and the ones that are local have already left for their night jobs so they too could make ends meet. And my other neighbors are much less kind than Mr. Davids. Shit.

I unlock my phone and scroll through my contacts list. It’s mostly people I went to high school with, some old coworkers, a few college lab partners from projects I don’t remember doing, and - oh; There’s Craig.

Craig’s father, an angry businessman with a combover and a slew of ill-fitting suits, owns Flights, but he only ever handles the back end side of things. It’s Craig who really manages the bar, drafting up our weekly schedules and navigating customer complaints. He’s a nice enough guy, albeit a little awkward, and I know for a fact he drives through my neighborhood on his way to work each evening. Besides, the worst thing he can do is say “No”, right?

I select the contact and hit dial. He picks up after two rings.

“Hey, Jesse. Everything alright?” His voice is muffled and I can hear the faint whooshing of the wind against his car.

“Actually, no, it isn’t.” I take a deep breath, feeling my lungs struggle to inflate against the steady pushing of the binder on my chest. I can hear Craig lower the radio’s volume through the receiver. “Listen, I’m really sorry to ask and I know I’ve had a habit of coming in late these last few weeks but my car isn’t starting and I need a ride to work.”

A few moments pass where I’m alone with the muffled sound of the wind. There’s a chance he already drove past my street and was debating the pros and cons of turning around, or, worst case scenario, he was weighing the ethics of firing me over the phone.

I make my way over to the front of the building as I wait, seeking shelter from the falling rain beneath the porch awning. With my back against the building, I can feel the faintest bit of heat seeping through the exterior walls.

“Oh, that’s it?” Craig says, “Sure, I’ll be right there. You still live by the police station?”

Phew. “I do. Thank you so much Craig. I really owe you.”

He says a quick “of course” before hanging up the phone. And, true to his word, he comes rounding the corner roughly five minutes later.

His car slows to a stop in front of my apartment building, hazards already on as his tires skim the curb. He rolls down the passenger window, his eyes narrowed into thin slits as he peers between the raindrops, looking for me. I wave to him from where I’d been sitting on the porch, my knees curled underneath the fraying end of my puffer jacket, and I keep my face tucked beneath one arm as I approach his beat-up Prius.

“Thanks again, man.” I say as I slide into the seat. It’s a bit damp from the open window, but at least this car runs. “I promise this won’t happen again.”

Craig waves his hand in dismissal. “It’s no big deal. You’re practically my neighbor.”

He switches off his hazards and pulls back into the road. The radio is still playing softly, a jazz song I only recognize from his quiet humming as he helps bus tables. His fingers are tapping along the edge of the steering wheel in a pattern of pointer, middle, ring, pointer, middle, ring to match the beat.

I can't tell if the air feels thick from the humidity or the silence between us, either way it forms a hot blanket around my shoulders, pressing in on my throat and weighing down the rest of my body.

“You think it’ll be a busy shift tonight?” Craig asks.

“Maybe,” It's a Tuesday. Of course not. “We had a busy weekend.”

Craig nods. “I hope so. Helps the shift go by faster.” He taps his fingers a bit faster now, breaking the rhythm of the music. I can see his brows furrow out of the corner of my eye, lips pursed together tightly.

Craig’s father stopped by the bar a few nights ago wearing a deeper frown than usual. He’d pulled Craig into the backroom without sparing a single “hello” for any of the other employees, his knuckles streaked white around Craig’s wrist. I could only make out bits and pieces of their conversation through the heavy office door, muffled mentions of declining profits and real estate agents. Flights hasn't been doing well for a while now, and Craig’s phone calls with his dad have only gotten longer and longer with each passing week. It was only a matter of time before the property got sold to make way for something more profitable anyway, even if Craig liked to pretend that wasn't the case.

I can appreciate his commitment to the delusion, at least.

“Jesse,” Craig starts. The tail of his voice is lilted, as if my name were a question. “You know how Tina and I have that baby coming?”

“I do.” She's either six or eight months along; I can't remember which.

“Well, we've been picking out names and I wanted your opinion on one of them.”

It isn't the first time Craig’s run names by me. Sometimes, during our slowest nights when the bartenders have all pulled out their phones prematurely, he’ll ask a group of us to pick between some. James, Jack, Henry, Brian if it's a boy. Claire, Penelope, Gracie, or Jane if it's a girl. Usually he’ll jot down our responses, a collection of quick tally marks in the corner of his notepad. He never seems all that convinced, though.

“So,” he continues, “we’re going to be having a little girl.” I overheard him mentioning this to our senior server earlier in the week, but I congratulate him as if it’s my first time.

His fingers lose the rhythm of the music, instead tapping along to their own nervous pattern. If he weren't driving, Craig would be picking at the skin around his nails, a habit he's formed whenever gearing up for a conversation he’d been avoiding.

“We were thinking Juliet, but I don't know,” he says.

“Juliet?” The last time I heard that name it was being spit at me from across my family dinner table, the word cutting between my tearful attempts at explanation, my choked out promises that my mother hasn't lost her daughter. She was cycling through half-true memories of Barbie dream houses and braided hair, a mantra of Juliet, Juliet, Juliet woven throughout them. She repeated the name like a plea, as if saying it enough times made it reality.

The way Craig says “Juliet” is much softer. The name sounds nothing like a threat on his tongue.

Craig frowns. “You don't like it, do you? It was my mom’s suggestion. She wanted to name me Juliet if I was born a girl.”

“No, no. It’s not that. I just, I knew a Juliet once.”

“Oh.” Craig's frantic tapping resumes.

The night before my sixteenth birthday I caught some kind of stomach bug that had me in a cycle of waking up at odd hours to dry heave over the toilet in hopes of eventually throwing up. After my third or fourth round of almost vomiting I found my mom sitting alone in the living room, the table side lamp lit up beside her, with a sudoku puzzle sprawled across her lap. Only two numbers were filled out, and she was fiddling with our small radio, searching for a decent station through the waves of static.

“Juliet,” She didn't look up from the radio as she spoke, and her voice was barely louder than a whisper, but it made me stop and listen regardless.

“Have I ever told you about your great-grandmother?” she asked, finally settling on 101.7, a local station that plays classical music anytime past 11pm.

She had, if only in passing. I knew that her name was Juliet. I knew that she collected and repaired broken clocks. I knew that she was the kind of woman who only ever said “I love you” to relatives on their deathbeds. Despite this, I shook my head “no” and watched as my mother pat the empty space on the couch beside her. I sat.

My mother pointed to the cuckoo clock across from us, which sat proudly atop our large box TV. The clock was stuck on 2:33am, and had been for as long as I could remember. My parents always shushed me whenever I asked why they hadn't taken it down.

“My grandma made that clock,” she said, “It was a baby shower gift.”

She placed the sudoku puzzle on the arm of the couch and turned to face me completely.

“It’s funny, actually, she never showed up to my baby shower. She gave it to my mom to give to me instead. She didn't even leave a card.” She dragged her finger through the air, tracing along the side of the clock from a distance. “She carved J. N. in the side of it somewhere. Your father thinks that’s where I got your name.”

My mother called me about a month ago, on the morning of my birthday. She brought up her grandma again, if only to tell me how much it’d kill her to see me throw away her name so easily. She wished me a happy birthday, asked how school was, and told me she missed me. I listened to the voicemail three times before deleting it.

“What was she like?”

I look up from where my gaze had settled on the dash in front of me, my eyes briefly meeting Craig’s as he juggles his focus between me and the road. “What?”

“What was she like? The Juliet you knew.” He pauses. “Was she a good person?”

My first instinct is to laugh. It’s stifled laughter, but laughter nonetheless, and the way Craig’s brow furrows at the sound makes me feel guilty.

“Sorry, sorry. I don't know why I did that.”

If you asked my mother whether or not Juliet was a good person, she’d wax poetic about the promising young woman I was before I decided to shave my head and skip class to smoke weed. Back when I would let her wrangle me into puffy church dresses and force smiles for family photos. She likes to pretend all those times I asked for Star Wars action figures and tried on my father’s ties didn't exist, as if I completely blindsided her by wearing a tux to my freshman homecoming dance.

But Craig wasn't asking her. He was asking me. And the Juliet I knew was the not same one my mother knew. My Juliet would draw all her holiday cards by hand, painstakingly picking colors to match the message inside. She would sock playground bullies in the jaw, and would keep trying to bake cookies even after burning her first few batches, and would apply to IVY League schools even if she didn't think she could get in them. The Juliet I knew watched with pride as I signed the name change paperwork at my local DMV.

“Yeah,” I say, “she was a good person.”

I can see Craig still fighting back his frown in my peripheral vision.

I continue, “I think Juliet is a beautiful name. And I think your daughter is gonna wear it well.”

Finally, his frown dissolves into relief.

“You really think so?”

“I do. And I'm not a very good liar, even if I didn't.”

Our laughter dies as Craig pulls into the lot, choosing a spot between a pickup truck and an island of brown grass and cigarette butts.

“Thank you, Jesse.” He claps me on the shoulder before either of us can leave the car. “You’re a good friend.”

“Don’t mention it. I owed you for the ride anyways.”

Craig pulls out his phone as he closes the door behind him, opening his list of baby names and drawing a red circle around “Juliet”.

Later that night, after counting the soggy wad of tips I’d stuffed into the pocket of my apron, I type my mother’s name into Facebook’s search bar. Sure enough, three accounts down, is her, her profile picture a grainy image of her and I posing in front of our lopsided Christmas tree about fifteen years ago. The picture is too small to tell here, but I’d walked past the larger, framed version enough times to know that I’m missing two teeth in it and that my mother is holding a broken ornament behind her back, slightly visible in the space between us.

I take a screenshot of the picture and block her account.