#also what's your deadname that's not your legal name anymore we need it for your permanent file

[pory-z]

saw my psychiatrist. answered questions about my current state

-does not feel depressed

-does not feel anxious

-does not experience mood swings

-does not experience extreme emotions

-experiences disabling symptoms of inattention, memory loss, inability to keep focus, executive dysfunction and on a lesser scale hyperactivity. i've been telling her about these for the 2 years i've seen her

her solution :

double my antidepressants to calm anxiety and regulate my mood

i feel fucking insane. and if i tell another mental health professional yeah i don't feel heard by hospital staff and i don't think they treat me adequately, i get talked down to condescendingly as if i'm paranoid and hysterical like "have you considered that she's right actually she's the one with the medical degree she knows best"

i'm so tired of the infantilisation and medical professionals using me being trans as an excuse to handwave every symptom

[v3nusxsky]

Right I need a good hurt/comfort fic cause my parental issues are kicking my ass atm. If you don't mind could you please write a Larissa weems x non-binary reader where r is a student (of legal age of course) where r and Larissa are in an established relationship but haven't taken the next step in their relationship yet. During parents weekend both of r's parents end up coming despite them being separated since r was a little kid so typically they take turns. This is the first time Larissa has properly gotten to meet them both and together so when r's dad shows up drunk and their mum's deadnaming them, larissa is concerned to say the least. Throughout the weekend it gets worse and they are both constantly and very loudly fighting about anything and everything while using r as their mediator. Larissa notices how different r is from their parents since r is very reserved and logical to the point of coming off as cold to people who don't know them well but before Larissa can think too hard about that r comes bursting into her office and immediately starts to kiss and undress her. Larissa is happy r wants to finally take the next step but is very confused at why now and why r is letting their emotions get the best of them so forces r to stop and talk to her. This leads to r breakdown in Larissa's arms (something she's never seen before) and explains that they can't handle their parents anymore and they just need Larissa to make r forget about them. Feel free to end it however you like, thank you!

Make me forget| h&c slight 18+

*Authors note~this fic has been haunting my brain bc I want to do it justice and I hope I have now that it's really ready to post.*

Trigger warnings~ non binary r family issues sexualising one's self, sex as a coping mechanism meltdowns drunk dad separated parents dead naming

Prompt~see ask^^^^

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Parent's weekend was something you'd been anxious for now for the past week, your parents would attend for your youngest sibling Dahlia while having no idea that you taught here. Not only that but that you go by your chosen name not your dead name. They also weren't privy to the knowledge that you happened to be dating the principal. Larissa Weems loved you for what you are on the inside, not the name you were born with or what gender you resonate with. You are you, and that's why she loved you. Together you both knew what it felt like to be misunderstood for what you are and that's why you would always try to prevent these things occurring in Nevermore Academy.

Larissa knew of your sister, but your sister had yet to stumble across you, you'd actively been dodging her since her arrival. So we one safe kiss of reassurance you both headed down to begin parents weekend. Your mother was first to arrive, as emotionless as she always was until she laid eyes on Dahlia, only when she caught sight of you did her eyes darken in anger and she muttered, "Lia? Who's that thing over there?" Ouch, but before she could even turn to see you, your dad came stumbling through the gates, three sheets to the wind. Truly nothing had changed here.

As a child you spent every week bouncing from house to house and parent to parent but neither provided you with the love and care you deserved. Your dad was always drunk or hungover, there's no middle here. Your mother took things hard when you came out, refusing your new name, "I named you for a reason, that's your name! Not whatever monstrosity you came up with" her words stung, you spent ages souring the internet for the perfect name. And she didn't even hear what you choose, just dismissed you straight away.

Right away your parents are way to busy arguing to notice you approaching them until your sister screams you're new name and runs into your arms. "I missed you Lia bug" you murmured into her ear before whispering, "I work here now bug" which caused your sister to beam back at you. "What are you doing here?" Your mother almost snarled at you. Of course she dead named you. Your dad chirped in about how a creature like you shouldn't be working in schools where you influence children. After all he blamed your mother and she blamed him. You and Lia were always caught in the crossfire, just how it always has been.

By the end of the evening you'd had enough so you set off in search for your girlfriend. Barging in through her the mahogany doors and immediately stormed over to your unsuspecting love. You immediately gabbed the lapels of her blazer and smashed your lips to hers in a hurry, hands tugging at her clothing and your own in a desperate blind need to feel something, anything.

At first Larissa reciprocated the desire until she realised this felt wrong, you'd both spoke about how the first time together would go and this wasn't it so the fact you were trying to rip her dress from her body, you'd removed your own shirt before Larissa managed to brace her hands on your shoulders, "hey hey hey love, slow down darling slow down. Talk to me" she murmured as you attempted to avoid her gaze. Those words was all it took for you to start sobbing, "I'm sorry I'm sorry so so sorry I'm god sorry" over and over again as you collapsed.

As Larissa came to hold you after wrapping her blazer around you she began to realise just how much you were the opposite of your parents. You had never broken down like this before so whatever they did was clearly bothering you and it hurt her heart to see. "Can't do this they just Ris help make me feel. Please need to feel good please Ris make their words go away make it all better please." You mumbled over and over as you sobbed into her shoulder. A soothing hand rubbing circles on your back as you cried it out. Larissa promised herself here and now that she would never let your parents hurt you ever again. For the rest of the evening Larissa doted on, drew you a bath and got a some snacks, just held you and showered you in love and comforting words.

Word count~ 1085

[aemiron-main]

i just want you to know that your theories are what made me want to get into stranger things, and seeing you and your friends fall into this strange rabbithole has me feeling like watching a bougatti get in a car crash in slow motion. kinda feel sorry for you D: lol it's giving religious fanaticism lowkey...

anyways i come to say this: there's a reason you get bombarded on twitter and tumblr so often. it's because you're always being mean! like mean, in a mean girl, cliquey, looks down on other people kind of way. mean in an unprompted kind of way. maybe i'm hypocritical for saying this, esp on anon, but i feel like that's something you need to hear, even if i know you're just gonna laugh at it. it seems like that's all you and your friends do on here.

HELLO! Well, to start, I’m glad that my theories got you into ST! Second of all, I’m sorry that you feel that way, but I’m having a blast- going down this rabbithole of analysis has been a ton of fun for me trying to connect the pieces! There’s no need to feel sorry for me, I’m having a great time. Just because my content isn’t something you enjoy anymore/isn’t something that’s catered to anyone except me and what I’m interested in (because it’s my blog and I talked about whatever I want to), doesn’t mean that my content is bad/some sort of car wreck lmao. And regarding your weird religious fanaticism comment- so what? Who cares! I’m going to be as deep into something as I want to be! You’re really quite judgemental, arent you? Why should I be ashamed of enjoying something and being passionate about it? Maybe I should have Henry/ST crucifixes made or something…

And Anon, look, I get the criticism, I do, but I think there’s a lot of pieces that you’re missing.

If you want to talk about mean girl behaviour, let’s talk about the byler burn books and confessionals that were tearing into people like James, Stav, Bre and I just for doing analysis before we even started getting into any sort of discourse. Let’s talk about the people who lost their minds and accused me of glorifying eating disorders and told me how disgusting I was because I posted my own genuine, not snarky at all analyses regarding Mike’s eating disorder. Let’s talk about people sending me my legal name/deadname and province in my anon box over Mike Wheeler eating disorder discourse if we want to get into mean girl behaviour. Let’s talk about people like Dani accusing me of being a biphobic rapist apologist tonight and coming into my replies condescendingly/vaguing me before I even started having any sort of actual “beef” with her. Let’s talk about me and James trying to bury that hatchet with certain people on byler tumblr only for them to shittalk us again after we let our guard down & were being nice with them & thought we’d genuinely talked through and resolved any conflicts.

I do think you’re hypocritical for saying this on anon, but at least you acknowledge it LMAO! And what’s the problem with laughing at it? Like I said, 99% of the time, it’s other people coming at my friends and I and making very hurtful real-life accusations (calling use pedophiles/pedophile apologists/rapist apologists) and talking every five seconds about how stupid we are. It’s like, if you had people telling you every day unprompted how stupid you are even when you’re just posting your analysis with zero snark or sass involved, wouldn’t you start to get a bit annoyed with it?

And I also think that when I’m not obviously hateposting, a lot of my passion gets mistaken for anger or condescension. I am VERY EXCITED about this stuff, me using caps or asking rhetorical questions isn’t me being mad or sassy, it’s literally me being very Excited. I can come across as blunt/scary sometimes, but part of that’s also just The Autism and me structuring things like an essay/debate when it comes to analysis because that’s just how my brain works.

And genuine question for you- can you give me an example of a time where you thought I was unnecessarily mean? Because I can almost definitely guarantee that there’s more context to the situation that you’re aware of. Hell, even the things on twitter, like with Sapphicjopper, just started with me pointing out that Sapphicjopper missed a detail about Henry’s age and ended up with Sapphicjopper claiming that I was accusing them of a hatecrime simply because I said it was a bit weird to constantly try and ignore Henry’s canon age and claim he’s older in canon (not just like aging him up for an au or whatever) for the sake of shipping him with Joyce/other girls & making weird/flippant comments about any queercoding he has.

I’ve said before that I don’t have any judgement towards people who don’t understand theories- when I call somebody stupid (as I’ve said before), it’s not actually about how smart they are or if they agree with me or if they understand xyz theory, it’s instead about people who come at me unwilling to even be openminded at all. I’m stupid as fuck sometimes, I get things wrong all the time, but I do make a genuine effort to keep an open mind and admit when I’m wrong.

Thanks for the ask! Also, your ask comes across as very mean girl and backhanded and condescending at times, so maybe you should keep that in mind. Your attempts to be genuine are overshadowed by your condescension, judgemental and backhandedness, unfortunately.

[alexandrahoney]

Trans dude anon is back :D

So on Friday I finally sent that WhatsApp group message and came out to the rest of my workplace. I had coordinated with two coworkers who knew I was trans so they immediately sent short, positive messages to set the tone for everyone else. And it worked, I got a bunch of positive responses, people being like “okay, I’ll change your name in my contacts immediately” and my boss welcoming me with my new name. I’m so relieved. And today my superior already used my new name in some written, company-wide interactions.

I also came out to my parents a week ago and they were shocked, but immediately supportive. There was some awkward “you’ll always be our little girl in some way” but my mom also went “your dad won’t carry your stuff to the car anymore cause you only do that for women!” So I’d say they’re a bit confused but they got the spirit 😀

I also had my second session with my specialized therapist today, I need him to get hormones (in about 6 months) and surgeries at some point.

So the past weeks have been rather stressful and tbh I sometimes feel a bit overwhelmed and even upset. It’s not doubt or anything, just some weird, dreadful “omg what am I doing?!” Luckily it only spikes when something huge happens, I think I just gotta chill and get used to all of this.

I hope your journey is going well too!

Aaaaah, I am so stoked to hear it! Congratulations, I hope that means you've come out to about everyone by now? Wonderful news, so glad you're sharing them with me! :D

Oh, trust, I've been having those exact same emotions ever since I came out to my colleagues. I have this weird feeling of guilt whenever I think about starting the process to legally change my name, as if I'm somehow betraying my parents or being ungrateful. I've never felt that my deadname was "me", always felt weird when people called me by it, but I guess it's enough "me" that now that I'm about to give it up, it feels weirdly melancholy. I think it's very normal, honestly, to have those moments of doubt and fear and even sadness. It's a huge change. In some ways irreversible.

It reminds me of when I got my first tattoo. Took me months to work up the courage, weeks more to actually get it. Getting it was easy. But once I got home and sat down, I looked at my arm, and had a momentary spike of panic. "That's going to be there *forever*," I thought, and for a second my world crumbled.

But it was just that. A moment. And now I have half a sleeve on the other arm in addition to the first one. We're fighting years of ingrained programming from a heteronormative society that doesn't necessarily want us to change. Fighting that - the ways we've internalized those lessons - is what's making us doubt. It's not rational. You know more than anyone that you are a guy. I know more than anyone that I am a girl. Moments of doubt are only further proof of that. Because the doubt leaves us. And we realize that looking in the mirror and seeing the person we were meant to be, that's what matters. Recognizing the face in the mirror, being able to smile at yourself and mean it-- That's the key. My journey is going well. I came out to everyone, and live full time as a girlie now. Waiting for my first appointment at the hormone clinic, in 2½ months. A wait since February, and hopefully I'll get to go on E come spring. Fingers crossed.

Please keep me updated, dear Anon. I feel we are kindred spirits in this now, on a journey together. I don't know your name or your face, but I know you are my brother, as I am your sister. And god damn it, we're making this shit look good. <3

[nohj3]

The phone rings with a known number, a debt collector, trying once again to convince me to pick up the debts of my ex-spouse. I lay, listening to its ringing as it goes. Irritating. Frustrating. And I'm already so upset. Upset at... Myself... Mostly...

In a move I, at the time called stupidity, but later learned was intended as an Implicitively ignorable form of self harm, I answered the call.

"Hello?", the voice said, wavering with a tone of uncertainty, reflecting it's owner's confusion at the vacuous space that their expectations would usually assume another voice to be in.

I'm already in this now. The social conventions of answering a call clearly implicate a consent to conversation that my new temporary partner in telecommunications has done no faux pas, to allow me to safely unlock the cage that is societal expectation.

"Hello," I state. Simple and efficient. With no attempt at conveying information the greedy vultures shouldn't have. My voice, upon registering the need for polite but stern tones, slipped quickly into its work uniform. High pitched. Firm. Tight throat. The way i talk around strangers who don't need to know about my nonstandard gender. "Whom is this I'm speaking to?"

"Oh! I'm srry ma'am!" The voice continues, both more comfortable in It's locating of a designated dance partner, and less comfortable in hearing whom they didn't expect. "Srry to bother you, I'm looking for a man named [deadname]. Do you know where he might be?"

The revelation that my voice unintentionally deceitfully removed from it's oppositional voice's owner's mind the very idea I could be the one that they sought, filled me with such joy. My voice passes! That's incredible! I've worked so hard for this! The joy is quickly used as a foundation to motivate me into a mindset capable of navigating such a conversation.

"You still haven't answered me. Whom am i speaking to?" I state, with a confidence in my voice, i thought myself previously incapable.

"Oh uh... We work for [redacted], i uh... Legally Can't say anymore than that unless i know I'm speaking to [deadname]. Do you know where he is?"

"I can certainly give them a message. What would you like me to say?"

"Oh uh... I mean.. That won't be necessary.." The voice stammers as it's possessor processes the pressure prevalent in pursuing a position possessing the potential to procreate payment from the pocket of a person permeating privacy. "If you could just tell us how to reach him?"

"Oh, I'm sure they would have no qualms being the one contacting you." I state, poorly hiding my sadistic pleasure in my social domineering, a trait i, despite my growing confidence in my personal tendencies, still define as a necessary tool not to be enjoyed like a toy. "But they're not devoid of busy. I mean, if they were they'd be easier to contact. No?"

"I-i suppose bu-" they're cut off as i continue.

"So if we want them to have you in possession of a higher slot in the callback list, you simply must give me some information they would deem worthwhile to pursue. I apologize that your hands are metaphorically tied by legal rope, but, to be quite frank, that's not my problem? As it stands all [deadname] will hear is that [redacted] called, but didn't bother to say why. Now that doesn't seem very urgent now does it? Also, dare i say, lacks quite the professionalism on your part." My tone sharp but soft edged. A mix of caring and uncaring, like a sadist playfully tearing down their prey's will.

"W-well that's fair. I um... Uh... You can tell him um...." The sweet soft tones of the struggle the voice conveys fill me with a pleasure i deem too hedonistic to savor. As i push back down my instinctual self in favor of a version less hopelessly addicted to inciting such delicious sounds from those consenting to be prey, I tune back into the stammering The voice fails to hide. "You can tell him... That uh... We called... And we'll call again. Later. When he's less busy. Um... S-srry again to bother you ma'am."

"Oh no trouble at all," i speak, with an almost sultry, but certainly not lacking in control, tone. "It's been such a pleasure talking to you."

"Y-yeah? I-i mean. I'll call later. Bye!!!" They hang up quickly. Failing to hold even a crumb of professionalism by the end. Cute.

I'm still laying. The surge of confidence and self actualization must be far more affected by the unexpected method of its own arrival than i originally anticipated, as it's done nothing to affect the physicality of my body. I sit up. I'm going to be ok. A thought i, mere a few minutes prior, thought my brain to be vacant of. I'm going to be ok. My spouse is gone now. They can't hurt me. The constant chains reminding me of their presence all of a sudden feel to be made of weaker metal as i successfully evaded the vultures looking to devour my liver.

These are but threads tying me to them. They can no longer hurt me. I'm going to be ok.

[tinyvampire]

how the ghosts would react to you coming out as trans

(bc i have bbc ghosts brain rot & i’m up late with good ol trans anxiety) enjoy!!

thomas

he would support the hell out of you, but would definitely be the kind of cis person to make a big dramatic show of it every time he accidentally misgendered or deadnamed you. listen - i love this man, but he is a drama queen. after telling him you’re trans, he would probably make it about him in some way - like maybe he once knew someone who was queer, or he always wanted to write a poem about one of those greek myths that involve trans people but he was too scared to, and etc etc etc. so yeah, he’s a bit of an attention whore, but he would go full ‘damn your eyes’ on anybody who was malicious towards you for your transness, 100%.

julian

with a crass, in poor taste joke, confusion, and then acceptance. basically how julian responds to any semi serious situation. he’d make some awful joke, maybe about cross-dressing, and then after learning more about what being trans actually means he’d come around. i don’t think he’d apologize (does he ever, like fr lol) (love him but 🤨), but he would probably say it makes sense that you’re a man/woman/nb, because of x y z behavior (which is stereotyping, but like at least he has the general idea & he’s trying) and then he’d make a conscious effort to never use your old name again.

fanny

similarly to the way she reacted when the lesbian couple was married at button house. she’d be aghast & outraged for like five minutes, ranting around the house about how true gentlemen/ladies don’t exist anymore in this modern age and etc etc but by the next day or so, she’d sheepishly apologize and ask you some questions about it. from then on she’d be quietly supportive in her own way, like automatically correcting when someone misgenders you & then never bringing up the incident; even when you thank her she’d be like ‘what on earth are you talking about, (chosen name)!’

pat

exactly how any ultra-supportive dad would react. pat would make it his personal mission to affirm your identity & make you feel comfortable and safe regarding your transness. he would also definitely throw you a surprise party in celebration of your coming out, complete with ‘it’s a boy/girl/baby (if you’re nb)’ banners courtesy of alison. he would be so touched that you trusted him with this information & more proud of you than he could ever say in words. (he’d also excitedly tell you facts about 80s queer icons that you already knew, but you’d pretend not to just to humor him.) (‘wow, freddie mercury was bi?! 😮’)

robin

honestly the best to come out to imo. robin’s been around a long time; this has made him incredibly kind & understanding. humanity’s stereotypes & societal pressures are born & die just as fast as people do, and he’d tell you as much (in his own robin way). humanity’s prejudices are much the same & robin has no time for that bullshit. he’d always be there if you needed a shoulder to cry on, and would passionately defend you and your identity should the occasion arise, no matter what.

the captain

instantly eager to assist you in any way possible. “it was very sharp of you to come to me with this. there’s so much to be done. we must change all of your legal documents at once, not to mention the wardrobe issue. hmm..patrick! assemble the troops!” he’d take charge immediately as though the only reason you came out to him was because you couldn’t handle transitioning by yourself & needed someone to be in charge. he accepts you right away too, though, so it’s no bother to you that he’s being his usual bossy, captain-y self. also he’d respond as though an actual crime had been committed if anyone gave you shit for being trans.

kitty

the definition of ‘little confused but got the spirit’. she’d probably think you mean you want to play dress up with her, and she’d be so excited she wouldn’t be able to focus on any explanations being offered by the other ghosts or alison. (& i know the ghosts couldn’t even play dress up if they wanted to, but do you think this fact would stop kitty from trying??? absolutely not) eventually, though, pat would gently explain it to her & she would support you whole-heartedly. (she’d still be totally confused though, bless her)

mary

literally would have no fucking clue what you’re talking about. “what be a transgender?!?” it would take the better part of a day to explain it all to her, but i do think she’d eventually understand, at least better than kitty. she’d probably be worried you’d be burned for it at first, and might even discourage your transition goals because of it, but once you reassured her that times have changed, she’d be happy to support you.

humphrey

i’m headcanoning this headless man as a trans man & no one can stop me. honestly, now that i think about it, humphrey gives off some serious t-boy swag vibes. i feel like you’d tell him you’re trans & he’d be like “ah so that’s what they’re callin it now” & boom, y’all are best friends. i can hear you in the replies now, ‘but they didn’t have access to hrt back then - !’ well pffpffpff, i don’t care. humphrey is trans now. you’re welcome.

[futurebicon]

Jules Comes Out to the Team

I'm really trying to push myself to publish something every day even if it's short.

I'm proud of myself so far even though it's only been like 3 days, which might not seem like a lot but to me, it is because I have been lacking motivation greatly recently.

Anyways enjoy and PLEASE leave any requests you have so I have inspiration.

CW: Misgendering and deadnaming (only because they didn't know), anxiety

“Baby you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Marc told his partner.

“I want to. I really, really want to. But I just don’t know, how. I mean I know how I just don’t want to but I want to at the same time. And it’s not that I don’t want to it’s that I’m nervous, even though I shouldn’t be nervous-”

“Jules.”

“-because everyone on the team is amazing and accepting and I know telling them will be better for me because I hate when they misgender and deadname me even though it is not at all by any means their fault. It’s really my-”

“Jules.”

“-fault because I’ve never told them so how could they know that I hate being called Julian or being called a he. And I definitely should tell them so that they know not to call me a boy because I’m not a boy but I don’t know how or when or what to tell them because I’m scared for no reason but also what if-”

“Jules!” Marc grabbed their wrists to stop them from pacing. “Breathe.”

They took a deep breath and rested their foreheads together.

“Everything is going to be just fine. You just tell them that you use they/them pronouns and that your name is Jules and then we can continue movie night. That’s all. And I know it’s scary, I know it is. But everything’s going to be okay.” He promised them. “Yeah?”

Jules nodded against his forehead and took another deep breath. “Yeah.”

“I love you,” Marc whispered and kissed their temple.

“I love you, too,” Jules whispered back and wrapped their arms around him.

“Ready to go down?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready.” They pulled away.

“And remember that you don’t have to tell them if you don’t want to,” Marc said. “You take as much or as little time as you need.”

“I know.” Jules nodded. “But I want to.”

“Then let's go.” He grabbed their hand and pulled them down the steps.

“Hey, Jules.” Leo smiled at them.

“Hi, Leo.” They greeted back. “Have they figured out a movie yet?”

“So far it’s between Captain America the Winter Soldier, Legally Blonde, The Little Rascals, The Impossible, Sherlock Holmes, Thor Ragnarok, Two Weeks Notice, Extremely Wicked Shockingly Evil and Vile, and Miracle.” Leo rattled off.

“So no?” Marc said.

“Much better than the 37 choices we had before.” He shrugged.

“I vote Winter Soldier the cast is hot.” Marc joked.

“Agreed.” Logan walked over and gave him a fist bump.

“You okay Jules?” Leo noticed their off behavior.

“Yeah. I was thinking about telling everyone about my new pronouns tonight but I don’t really know anymore.” They shrugged and stared at the ground.

“You know none of us have any problem with it, buddy. It will be okay. Take your time, whenever you’re ready.” Leo told them.

“I know. Just, nervous I guess.”

“Everything will be okay.” Logan pulled them in for a hug.

Jules just nodded against his shoulder before pulling away.

“Hey, Julian.” Kasey walked over and clapped them on the back.

It’s now or never.

“I go by Jules now. And use they/them pronouns.” They told him.

“Cool.” Kasey nodded with a smile. “Thanks for telling me, Jules.”

Jules smiled back.

Kasey patted their back one more time before walking away.

“See baby?” Marc wrapped his arms around their waist and kissed their cheek. “Everything’s okay.”

“Now the rest of them.” Jules sighed.

One by one they were told.

Kasey, then James, Thomas, Jackson, Kuny, and then the rest.

It was better than Jules had ever hoped it could be.

None of them (well it had to be explained to Kuny a few times but he understood quick enough) had any trouble with it. As soon as they heard the new name and pronouns the old ones were never said again.

Characters by the amazing @lumosinlove

[ablednt]

i hope it's okay to talk about this here, if not, that's okay, you can ignore it, but tw for transphobia, medical abuse, reality checking, psychiatric abuse, medical gaslighting, ableism, sanism, psyism and pluralphobia.

my system basically seemingly all went dormant last night after earlier yesterday our mother's social worker told us that we're a delusion ( when he doesn't even know us, he only knows our mother's side of the story, she told him about our plurality without our consent ) and then he blatantly deadnamed me and refused to call the body's chosen name after i called him out on it ( and this guy supposedly worked with ppl w/ psychosis for a decade now and for some reason he groups psychosis and plurality together and basically used these outdated myths about plurality ) and now she refuses to call us by our true names and only responds to the body and now it's a possibility that we might be given antipsychotics against our will and she's blatantly telling us that "if you don't get rid of them with antipsychotics, you're gonna stay in a group home for the rest of your life." and literally all of these are massive red flags.

now i disowned my mother because i literally can't trust her anymore and im trying to learn lifeskills as much as possible so i can get away from her. im just so angry and upset and feel trapped.

God I'm so sorry that's awful.

I've never gone through anything quite that extreme but I did have people try and pressure me into seeking therapy for delusions and tried to force me to stop believing in my headmates very soon after my syscovery.

Having had that experience I can say that they're absolutely wrong in doing this to you. To start you know yourselves and your experiences far better than anyone on the outside can. I do experience delusions relatively severely but even I can fairly easily tell that my headmates are not delusions (they're too consistent, a delusion isn't going to be a consistent person you communicate with for weeks to months at a time with very little change.).

But to play devils advocate even if you WERE just having delusions this is not at all a safe or healthy way for them to support you. First off delusions aren't always harmful, psychotic people deserve the right to refuse treatment for a delusion and to say reality checks aren't needed. No one should ever force a delusional person to abruptly stop yhr delusion they should be offering a safe space. Ultimately, although I do fully believe you that your headmates are real, this was a violation of your autonomy either way and unacceptable to treat you this way.

Getting out when you can is a good idea and I promise that once you are able to get out on your own there's lot's of us out there and there's more people supportive of systems than it seems. However, it's important to be careful and get all the details straight before you leave. I do not know what the situation here is exactly so I can't give specific advice but you'll need to already have somewhere to go in mind, what you'll do when you get there, and a long term plan afterwards for how you'll keep going. Also be sure you have any legal documents that you need such as IDs, birth certificates, etc. If you're running away try to save up for it in cash.

My plan to leave my house wounded up being trying to stick it out until i can get a job and move out the normal way just because I'm too disabled to really risk anyrhing different and that's still ongoing unfortunately so I can't offer much advice here just be careful and be sure to think things through realistically.

In any case things are pretty bad for you right now and I completely understand how disorienting and horrifying this all must be but I want to say that the main strength of a system is resilience. Your dormant members can most likely wake up again, you'll also form more eventually and meet new people. Even if you're forced to mask again and pretend to be singlet to avoid the abuse you still have each other and you'll still be able to find ways to talk to and support each other. Those connections can never truly be taken from you no matter how hard anyone tries to destroy what you have together they cannot.

The community is always here if you need encouragement, advice on masking and quality of life improvements, etc. We're rooting for you!

[trollartistry]

Fleeting Reunion

Doing a drabble again! No art this time, but I might draw it later. I had the idea of ‘what if Nemi reunited with Classic Freddy as an adult?’ and wanted to do something with it.

Now, just an FYI, this drabble’s based on the idea that *somehow* and for *some* reason, the old classic animatronics were kept and used as parts or something for the new Glamrocks. Also dunno what year Security Breach canonly is in so I’m using our current year, 2021. So I’m really breaking canon here- oh well.

Story under the read more!

The first time Nemi discovered the old, beat down classics, he was shocked and thought he had been seeing things. Tucked deep in the pizzaplex was a parts and services room, and while he worked as a nightguard, on occasion he’d act as a mechanic. The man only had been looking for a basic piece to replace in Monty’s arm as it had broken mid golf swing, and it was an easy fix. But Nemi found more than just the part he needed- he found 4 familiar animatronics from the pizzeria he used to go to as a child; Foxy, Bonnie, Chica, and of course Freddy.

It plagued his mind, and it unnerved him every time he had to go into that room. They weren’t even that dismantled, if anything just.. broken. The foam and fabric on all of them torn, Chica’s hands were missing, Bonnie’s face was gone, and Foxy looked shredded up along his limbs and ear. Freddy was the only one that looked mostly decent, but the state he was in infuriated the nightguard. All of these beloved robots, just dumped in the back with no care in the world.

And then Nemi’s thoughts went from a simple, curious walk to a manic, inquisitive run. Were they the same four from that old pizzeria he attended on a weekly basis when he was a child? Why were they here? Could they still work if he powered them up? What would he even do once he turned them all on and they were the old ones he once knew? ...Would Freddy remember who he was, if Nemi was to power him up? 

Finally his willpower broke one night. He had to know. He would only power up Freddy, just to see what would happen. If it wasn’t the same Freddy as the one all those years ago, he’d just shut him back off and let his burning questions fizzle to forgotten ash. And if it was the same Freddy, well.. they could at least catch up.

He spent a good month or so sneaking in, fiddling with wires and parts to make sure the bot could turn on without much difficulty. Thankfully, it seemed any evidence of his tampering either went unnoticed, or wasn’t reported cuz no one ever stopped him. And finally, one night, he was done. All there was left to do was flick the switch and power Freddy up. Nemi took a breath in, muttered his hope, and flicked the switch.

Sparks sputtered and the whole frame of Freddy jolted as power ran through his circuits, causing Nemi to jump back. Inside there was whirring, old inner workings flowing with electricity. The man watched, unsure if his heart was racing with hope or anxiety as the bot’s eyes twitched a bit, before blinking, focusing in on the darkened room and the person before him.

Freddy sat up against the wall, ears tilting a little and he blinked once, twice. Nemi could tell he was confused immediately, the way his eyebrows furrowed and he shut his jaw in a pursed manner. There was silence, an uncomfortable silence and Nemi didn’t know what to say or do, Freddy was just sitting there..

As Nemi opened his mouth, Freddy blinked with some recognition and spoke, unsure, “..*D-Deadname*?”

It’s a name that hasn’t been used by friends or family in so many years, only used for legal manners. But hearing it makes Nemi choke on his words as his heart clenches with emotion. So it is the same Freddy, and he recognizes him even after all these years.

“..Y-yea, it’s me, Freddy.” Nemi said, coming back over to kneel down before the sitting bot, unable to help but grin at him. “I don’t- don’t go by that anymore b-but it’s me.”

Freddy’s silent as he looks the man over, obviously a bit frazzled seeing someone he last saw as a child now kneeling before him as a grown man. He then looks around the room, and sees all of the different parts, and his fellow animatronics. He’s quiet as he takes it all in, and even though he’s old and worn, Freddy was wise and knew what this entailed. They weren’t in use anymore and instead replaced.

“I uh.. go by Nemi now.” Nemi said, bringing the bot’s attention back to him. Freddy blinked, then softly hummed a little as he nodded, “Nemi.. it’s.. unique.”

“Heh.. yea, got it during highschool.” Nemi replied. It’s quiet again and Freddy’s once again looking around, and Nemi wiped his watery eyes before deciding to explain, “You uh.. You’re in Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzaplex. The year’s 2021.. I guess you guys are being used as parts now.”

“2021?” Freddy asked, attention back on Nemi. The man nods and Freddy gives a quiet sigh, “..I’m amazed we’re still in solid pieces then. Or that I even work..” He looked down at himself.

“I uh.. had to fix you quite a bit actually just to get you to t-turn on..” Nemi said with a shrug. He’s looking over Freddy again, and now that the animatronic’s on and talking, it makes his withered state hurt Nemi all the more. Freddy doesn’t miss the first tears dripping down the man���s face and he tries to distract him from his emotions, “Hey.. at least my name’s still out there, right? Surely there’s another model of me still keeping an eye on you.” He smiled.

Nemi’s heart only hurts more than that. Glamrock Freddy was just as incredible as the classic, if not more, and sure, the man loves him dearly.. but he could hear his younger self weep in the back of his mind, ‘But that’s not MY Freddy!’ Nemi clenches his eyes shut at that, a sniffle escaping him, and Freddy quietly sighs before he opens his arms, the old joints creaking. “Shh.. come here, it’s okay.”

The guard, though grown, can’t help but immediately close the distance to hug the beloved animatronic, a sob escaping him. Freddy holds him close, and recalls the few times he did this to Nemi when he was a little girl. He begins to try and play the same tune he did back then, but realizes he no longer has his music box, only a soft clicking noise coming from the inner crank that was left installed to turn it. So instead, Freddy talks and hopes his voice offers that same comfort.

“I missed you.. It’s nice to see you grown up.” Freddy said softly, removing the security hat from Nemi’s head to stroke his hair soothingly. Nemi manages to whimper out that he missed the bot as well, along with an apology that makes Freddy hush him softly, “You have nothing to be sorry for, Nemi..”

The brunette pulls back a little, shaking his head as he tries to wipe those spilled tears, “I-I didn’t even get to say goodbye to you back then when I had to move.. A-And now, here you are, i-in the back of a damn mall collecting d-dust and in pieces-” He began, and a old paw cups his cheek.

“None of that is your fault.” Freddy said as he comforted the man, “What matters is you had a good life after your time with me. I knew I would eventually be taken down from the spotlight, either for good or for a new model to replace me.. it happens, Nemi.”

Nemi looks at the bot who gives him a warm smile, the same smile he would give him all those years ago. It calms some of those bubbling sorrows, but Nemi still can’t help but sniffle.

“It’s been, what.. 10 or so years? And you’ve changed so much.. we have time, why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to? Just like old times.” Freddy offered, and Nemi nodded.

He told the bear about his father’s passing, the many years of moving before he ended up in his aunt and uncle’s care. How he discovered his own identity and realized he was a man, and graduated highschool by the skin of his teeth. Freddy listened to all of it, just like how he used to listen to Nemi as a child talk about his days back then. He then asked about the pizzaplex and how the man enjoyed working there, and Nemi in turn talked about the whole place and the Glamrock animatronics. Freddy’s amused at how Nemi talks about Glamrock Freddy- its that same admiration the man had for Freddy back then.. and something more, Freddy can tell. The conversation helped Nemi calm down and it was comforting to Freddy himself to know he was still loved by people, even if it was a completely different model. But a glance to his watch told Nemi he only had another hour or two before his shift was up. Before his time with Freddy, was up.

“..Y’know,” Nemi began after a silent moment of just being close to the bot, “I think- I think they’d get along fine with you and the others.. I could work on them too, get them up and running, and-”

“No.” Freddy shuts down the idea with a frown. It hurts to do so, but he knows his place. “I’ve had my time on the stage. We all have..”

The nightguard looks shocked at Freddy’s answer, and tries to change his mind, “F-Freddy c’mon, it’ll be fine! Maybe- Maybe HR would consider refurbishing you guys and you can be part of it all even-!” He said, voice cracking with desperation and Freddy cups the man’s face again, eyes sternly looking down at him.

“You and I both know that’s not how it would go, Nemi.” He said, “Even if we got along with the Glamrocks, it’d be trouble for all of us to be on again. You already risked your job just to get me back online, do you know how much trouble you’ll get into if you left me on?”

“I don’t care!” Nemi exclaimed, not caring just how childish he sounded, “Do you know how much I missed you when I had to leave?! And now here at my job I find your- your broken body just laying here and not know if it was really you and now that I put in all that work, it really IS you?! I-I can’t just- power you back down and forget about you after this, I-I wont! I love you too much to lose you again!!”

There’s a silence, and Nemi’s face grows red as he realizes what he said was selfish and childish of him, along with a confession for the old bot. Freddy’s surprised to hear it, but he then smiles, brushing back some of the brunette hair.

“I know. But you’ve never lost me nor forgot about me, have you? You got a job at a place with my name still in it, along with getting along with another me.” Freddy said warmly, “I know it’s hard.. but it’s for the best. If you kept me on, it would jeopardize everything and you could lose everything you have here.. including that Glamrock version of me.”

Nemi’s eyes widen, before looking away with sorrow at the thought of losing Glamrock Freddy. Freddy was right, but the thought of having to turn him back off had Nemi’s heart twisting in agony. “..B-but.. I can’t..” He whimpered, and Freddy pulled him back into the embrace.

“I know it’s hard.. but you have to.” Freddy murmured. “I’ll still be here, in more ways than one.”

Nemi nodded, fresh tears spilling as he let out another sob, “Can- can I hear your song, just one last time..?”

Freddy may of not had his music box, but he began to hum softly, letting the man hear that tune once more. They stayed there in the darkness of the room, Nemi quietly crying in Freddy’s arms as he listened, before sitting up as the last few notes were hummed. Nemi opened up the bot’s chest, reaching in to that power switch and looked up at Freddy, the two sharing one last gaze.

“G-Goodbye, Freddy..”

“Goodbye, Nemi.”

And with a flip of the switch, the sound of machinery powering down echoed in Nemi’s ears as he watched the life fade from Freddy’s eyes as he slumped against the wall, eyelids closing over. The man closed the chest plate, staring at the bot with a heavy heart before picking up his hat and getting up. He went to the door, pausing to take one glance back to the beloved bear, before exiting the room, the thud of the door closing behind him echoing down the hall.

A week later when he has to go in to that same room, he’s griefstricken to see the four bodies of the classic animatronics were gone for good and for the rest of that night, it’s spent sticking close to Glamrock Freddy as the new, shiny Glamrock model of his beloved childhood friend still brought the man comfort and happiness.

[yikesharringrove]

Umm, I accidentally deleted the request for this while moving it to my inbox, so here it is. (Also this is like, four months old).

I’m gonna rec this fic which is super well written and adorable

Steve is ftm. (Personally, I’m not a big fan of mpreg unless it’s like, biologically plausible 🤷‍♀️)

Under the cut bc it’s long and there’s a little bit of smut.

-

Billy’s hands were shaking as he raced out of the house.

He had a bag slung over one shoulder, had already put two others in the Camaro.

His dad had gone in hard today. Three days after Billy graduated high school and he’s already calling him a deadbeat, a fuck up. Telling him to get a job like he hasn’t worked every summer and most weekends since he was fourteen.

He lit a cigarette as he slid into the driver’s seat.

He was gonna make one stop on the way outta town.

-

Steve had given Billy a spare key months ago, after he was tired of always having to go downstairs and answer the door.

He liked it when Billy just made his way up, started kissing whatever skin was already exposed and asking Steve if he’s wet.

Tonight, Steve thought, was no different.

Billy was kissing up his calf, mouthing along his knee, a few fingers creeping up the leg of his shorts.

Billy was the best sex he’s ever had. Not a lot of gay guys will go down on Steve, some won’t even fuck him. He had been real hesitant to tell Billy, start having regular sex with his best friend, because he didn’t think Billy would want anything to do with him when he knew what he was bringing to the table.

But Billy had told him not to be an idiot, ate him out, and pounded him into the mattress.

And Steve was in love.

So he let Billy fuck him whenever he pleased, because at least Billy was giving him the time of day, at least he was getting some.

He opened his eyes, smiling lazily down at Billy.

“‘Time is it?”

“Almost two.” Billy was curling two fingers into his waistband, slowly pulling down his shorts, like maybe Steve wouldn’t notice.

Steve lifted his hips, and Billy whipped off his shorts, diving right in for his pussy.

He ate him out with the same fervor he did everything. Making all these gross slurping sounds, sucking on Steve’s cock and shoving his tongue inside him.

He made Steve cum twice on his face, as was the norm, before wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, and getting right to business.

He fucked Steve like he was mad at him.

He often did. And Steve knew he wasn’t mad at him, moreso mad at the other him, the him that’s ruined Billy’s life since before he was even born.

Steve wasn’t as dumb as everyone thought. Knew that when Billy snuck into his bedroom at odd hours of the night and absolutely ravished him, something bad had happened with his dad.

So when Billy finally rolled off of him, and lit a cigarette, Steve knew better than to ask.

“I’m leaving.” Steve just hummed at him. Billy sometimes stuck around after sex.

But Billy didn’t move.

“Like, leaving Hawkins.” Steve just hummed again. Billy talked a lot about leaving Hawkins. Steve had always secretly dreamed of running away with him. 

Billy just studied his face in the dark, stubbing out his cigarette and rolling over to hols Steve close to his chest.

Steve closed his eyes, let himself pretend.

Pretend that Billy loved him back.

-

He woke up to rustling, Billy getting dressed to leave as weak sunlight began to trickle through his curtains.

“Oh shit, didn’t mean to wake you.”

He smiled lazily at Billy.

“You comin’ back over tonight?” Billy looked stiff.

“Probably not. Sorry.”

“That’s okay. I’ll see you later, then.”

“Yeah. Later.” Billy was sitting on the end of his bed, had just finished tying on his boots.

And then he moved, quick as a flash to kiss Steve softly before he was thundering down the stairs.

Steve was just falling asleep as the Camaro roared away.

-

Billy had skipped town that night.

And Steve never forgave himself.

-

Steve was leaning over the counter, his head pressed into the cool top of it.

“I threw up all last week, and I just feel like shit.” He had been whining to Robin practically all morning at Family Video.

“Do you think you have the flu?”

“I don’t know, Rob. I mean, my stomach hurts a lot, but like, it feels like I’m just having awful cramps.”

“Are you on your period?”

“Nah. Don’t get it very often with the hormones anymore.”

“Normally I’d suggest pregnancy, but I know you’re in a bit of a dry spell.” He rolled slightly to look darkly at her. “Still no word of Billy?”

“No. The one person in Hawkins that isn’t too transphobic to fuck me, and he skips town.” Steve sighed. “I should’ve known, too. He was being super weird that night.”

“Whatever. When you and I skip town, we’ll have the time of our damn lives, and get you laid.” He laughed softly.

“I’m just gonna go to the doctor this weekend. Get a full physical.”

“Let me know the verdict at and I can come over with some medicine, if you need.”

“Thanks, Rob.”

-

Steve was lying back on the stiff exam table.

He had already given blood and urine samples, and was just waiting for the doctor to tell him what the fuck was wrong with him.

Sometimes his hormones had to be adjusted, and caused all sorts of weird shit to go haywire in his body.

Dr. Mauch was a kind woman, always been pleasant and accepting of Steve, even referred him to an endocrinologist for his hormones.

She didn’t smile when she came in, though. Just sat down at her stool.

“I’m going to go out a limb here and say that this is not news you’ll be happy about hearing.”

Steve felt his heart drop to his stomach.

“You’re pregnant.”

He blinked.

“No.”

“I’m sorry, Steve. But you most definitely are.”

“But, but I’m on blockers, and testosterone, and I haven’t had sex in months.”

“I’d say about six months.” His mouth was dry. Billy had left in late May. About six months ago. “And being on hormones is not an effective method of birth control. Some men still get pregnant after taking them.”

“I’m not, I don’t look pregnant.”

“Some people don’t really show their pregnancy. My sister was rail thin the entire time, had a perfectly healthy baby girl. It’s all about your body type.”

“So, so you’re telling me, that I’m six months fucking pregnant.”

“Yes.” He slumped back onto the exam table.

“What are, what are my options?”

“Well, unfortunately, not many. Abortions are only legal in Indiana up to 20 weeks, or five months, or unless the person pregnant is facing severely compromised physical health. There’s always adoption.”

“No one’s gonna want a baby from a trans guy.” She pursed her lips.

“I think that’s a harsh statement. Many people are desperate for babies.” Steve just stared at her.

“So, if I have to take it to term, should I like, go off my hormones.” His stomach gave a lurch at the idea.

“I would recommend it. There’s very little research one pregnancy in transgender individuals. We really don’t know how hormones can affect the baby.” Steve sighed. “I would say, get in with an OB/GYN. I can recommend a few I know and send them your medical history. Your name change and hormone therapy is part of all of it, so hopefully they will be kind.” Steve sighed.

“Thank you, Doc. I really appreciate it.”

“I’m sorry for the disappointing news.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” She gave him a copy of their appointment notes, a list of OB/GYNs for him to research, and a hug before she left.

He drove home slowly, feeling exhausted, like the weight of the fucking world was on his shoulders.

He got home to find Robin sitting on his front porch, her nose buried in a book, a pizza box sitting next to her.

She looked up at him, and he burst into tears.

-

“Look, Max, if he contacts you in any way, tell him to call Steve, okay? It’s important.” Robin was yammering to Max on the phone, trying to get a way to contact Billy.

Steve was laying on the couch, had his shirt rucked up over his stomach, pushing it out and sucking it in, trying to see any change in his body.

“Just give him Steve’s phone number and tell him he’s an asshole.” She hung up the phone, perching on the armrest at Steve’s feet.

“She know where he is?”

“No. She said he ran off and hasn’t contacted her at all. She didn’t even know he was leaving.” She slid onto the couch, let Steve put his feet on her lap. “You think he’d come back? If he knew?”

“I don’t know. I’m not really asking him to. I mean, I don’t think I’m in a place to take care of it, but I kinda just want him to know it exists. Like, I think he deserves that.”

“I get it.” Her voice was soft. She watched Steve stare at his tummy some more. “I’m sorry. I’m sure this is just, dysphoria out the wazoo.” Steve huffed a laugh.

“I don’t think it’s really hit me yet. I think ‘cause I’m not showing. I don’t look pregnant, so how can I be pregnant, you know?” He sighed tugging down his shirt. “Going to the doctor’s gonna be a damn nightmare, though. They’re too used to dealing with women. It’s gonna suck.”

-

Steve was right.

Even though his primary care doctor had sent his medical history, he still got deadnamed and misgendered at reception, and intake, and by the nurse, and the doctor when she finally arrived.

They gave him a pelvic exam, getting him in for a sonogram as well.

And as the doctor was moving the imagining wand around on his tummy, and he heard the heartbeat for the first time, something caved inside of him.

A baby. He was having a baby.

And part of him, a really fucking big part of him, was starting to love it.

-

His parents were home for four days.

And Steve had waited for the final day of their homesteading to tell them.

He’s glad he did.

Diner was as quiet as always, and Steve had nearly choked on the words.

“I’m pregnant.”

His father had gotten out his wallet, asked how much an abortion costs.

“I’m too far along for that. Nowhere will legally do it.”

His mother had just stared at him. His father asked how far along he was.

“Close to seven months. I didn’t even know until like, a week and a half ago.”

And his father had stood up, and the yelling began.

“I can’t believe you. You kick up this huge fuss, make us change your name, and the way we refer to you, go around telling everyone your a boy, and you get pregnant like the little slut you are.”

And he had told Steve to back his shit, told him he was not welcome in my house anymore.

And Steve didn’t have a lot of shit he cared about, the clothes he liked fit in one duffel bag.

His mother didn’t look at him as he left.

-

He had called Mrs. Henderson from a payphone.

Nobody else could give him a ride anymore, and he wasn’t expecting her to drop everything and drive him somewhere, but she had freaked out at the words kicked out and for getting pregnant, and told him to stay where he is.

She was there with a tight hug and a travel mug of honey lemon tea within twenty minutes.

Steve had asked for a ride to a youth shelter he had read about, but she shook her head, said you’re coming to live with me and Dusty and Steve had cried in her passenger seat, and again in her guest bedroom.

-

Steve groaned.

He had finally begun showing, just a little bit out a mound near his belly button.

But he felt like shit, had taken to spending most days in bed.

He bat away whoever was shaking him.

“Go away.”

“Steve, it’s Max.”

“I’m sleeping.”

“I found Billy, you asshole. I have his address.” Steve sat bolt up straight.

“You, where is he?”

“Boston. He went east, for some reason. But he sent me a letter, out of the blue, and I told him you had something important to say, but he said he doesn’t have a phone.” She handed him a slip of paper.

“Thanks, Max.” He gave her a weak smile, found her chewing her lip.

“Is he the father? The other father, I mean.” He had told the party about the pregnancy, figured rumors would begin spreading soon enough.

“Yeah. He’s the other father.”

“He wouldn’t have ditched you. If he’d known.”

“I know.”

“He’s not like that.”

“I know.” She stared him down. He kept his face open, honest.

“Are you gonna write to him?”

“Yeah. I just, I don’t really know what to say.”

“Just keep it simple. Tell him he’s got a kid. Let him choose what he wants.”

-

It took Steve almost a month to draft a letter.

He didn’t really know what to say.

He settled on the bare minimum.

I’m pregnant. And it is most definitely, without a doubt, yours. I’m not expecting anything from you. I don’t want money, or for you to move back to Hawkins. I just thought you deserve to know about your kid.

He read the letter about three times, one hand pressed delicately to his little bump.

I’ve decided to keep the baby. I’m going to raise them. You’re welcome to meet them, and be in their life if you choose, but if not, I’m not going to hold it against you.

He sealed the envelope, leaving it on his nightstand.

And then his contractions started.

He didn’t get around to sending it.

-

Claudia was the only person in the room with him when he gave birth.

She held his hand the whole time, coached him through his breathing.

And when his son was born, she pet his head, told Steve how beautiful he is.

-

Steve was slumped face down on the bed.

He had just gotten Oliver down, calmed him down enough for him to finally sleep.

He rolled over, scrubbing a hand down his face.

He had barely slept all week. But Oliver had smiled at him for the first time yesterday.

He turned to lay on his side, zeroing in on the envelope on his nightstand.

He sat up quickly.

Fuck. He needed to send that letter.

He didn’t bother thinking about it, just wrapped his sweater tighter around himself, and hurried to the mailbox. He put the little flag up, leaving the letter in the little inner clasp.

He looked back down at Oliver, running one finger over his fuzzy little head.

-

He didn’t hear from Billy for three weeks.

He knew the letter wouldn’t take more than a few days to get to him, and it would take just as long for Billy to get him back.

He had pushed Billy out of his mind, figured if he wanted to be part of Oliver’s life, he had given him enough of a chance to be.

He put on a thick sweatshirt, had taken to wearing baggy tops to hide his tits, too sore, too big to bind anymore. Oliver squealed at him when he leaned against the side of his crib, reaching out for him.

He strapped him into his stroller to take him on a walk, stopped dead in the doorway.

Billy fucking Hargrove was in the driveway, standing next to the Camaro like he had just gotten out of it.

His eyes were wide, trailing from Steve, to Oliver, and back again.

“Is that my kid?” Billy’s hair was shorter than when he had left.

“Oliver. His name is Oliver.” Billy stepped around the car.

“Can I, can I see him?” Steve brought the stroller down the driveway, taking Oliver out of the stroller.

Billy held him like he was made of gold.

“He’s beautiful.”

“I think he looks a lot like you.” Billy smiled at him.

“Thank you for telling me. I’m sorry I couldn’t get here, I was waiting for my semester to end.”

“It’s okay. I just, you know. Thought you deserved to know about him.” Billy stared at Oliver, his smile going soft as Oliver squealed, tugging on Billy’s hair.

“I want to be in his life. If that’s okay?”

“Of course it is. He’s your son too.” Billy brushed his thumb down Oliver’s nose.

“Thank you, Steve. And I’m, I’m sorry about how I left. I was going to-” he cut himself off, looking back at Oliver. “I was gonna ask you to come with me. Chickened out last minute.”

Steve’s heart was banging against his rips.

“I would’ve gone with you. Used to dream about running away with you.” Oliver started getting fussy, making disgruntled little huffs. Billy passed him back to Steve. “I was in love with you. You know that?”

“Yeah, I knew that. Was to chicken shit to do anything about it.” Billy was still looking at Oliver, the way he nestled into Steve’s neck. “He loves you a lot.”

“It’s been the two of us for awhile.”

“You’re a good dad. Always kinda figured you would be, though.” Billy took another breath. “You know, you could’ve told me sooner. I would’ve come back.”

“I don’t want you to, to change you life. Don’t quit school, or something.”

“Steve, I got a kid. I want to change my life for him. For, for you.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“No never did. I’m choosing this. I’m choosing my family.” Steve hesitated.

“Would you like to come in? Have some breakfast? You could give Oliver his bottle, If you wanted.” Billy’s eyes lit up.

“I’d like that.”

[stonertransdad]

Life Update since I hadn't been on here in forever

The pandemic was/is wild! Lockdowns started literally around the time we were going to the fertility specialist to get her pregnant. I lost my job to COVID in March shortly before we did the procedure, but we decided there's never really a good time to have a kid. Why not during a global pandemic when one of us in unemployed? (BTW, I don't recommend having a kid during a pandemic. Not being able to go to all of the appointments and having to sit in the parking lot was brutal.)

Let's talk about May friends...it was rough. (TW for mention of suicide btw. I'll post a gif where it's safe to start again if you wanna skip over it.)

So May 1st is the anniversary of my father's suicide. It had been 4 years. I found his body and since he wasn't married, I had to handle his affairs and arrange his funeral. May 1st, 2020 my wife and I had a Zoom game night with our friends and I got drunk because everyone was drinking (except my wife because she was pregnant). After our game night at like 2am, I had a psychotic break. I threatened to kill myself numerous times. My wife tried to talk me down, but eventually called the cops to take me. I thank her for that because looking back, that was the moment I knew something needed to change. I was convinced the cops were gonna kill me because I'm a trans dude in rural West Texas. I legit took the phone out of my wife's hand, hung up on 911, and yeeted her phone across the backyard and tried to hop the fence. Eventually the cops came and talked me down. They took me to the hospital an hour away in handcuffs (for their protection I did nothing wrong). They took me to the religious hospital that I was born in. So when they looked up my info by my name and date of birth from my driver's license (I only changed my middle name) literally all my paperwork and my bracelet had my deadname and wrong gender despite all of my legal stuff saying male with my new middle name. I mentioned it to them and they didn't care. They misgendered me the entire time I was there. I had hit my head hella hard on the bath tub when my wife was trying to snap me out of it, did the hospital even check me for concussion? Nope. I had punched so many things and my hand and wrist were swollen and discolored. Did they check out my hand and wrist? Nope. I was there for over 10 hours before I was able to convince them I was okay and that it was just the alcohol. Did I mention during that 10 hours I was literally out in the hall on a gurney with no mask and this was when COVID was running rampant in Texas (the first time)? I heard people die that night. I had nothing to distract me because they took away all of my personal items and clothes. My wife picked me up and we went home and I have been sober ever since. It's not the first psychotic break I've had with alcohol in my system. Alcohol just doesn't agree with me, but I'm finding new things to replace it with.

TW has been lifted...it's safe now.

A couple of weeks after that I began teletherapy because I had been on the same mood stabilizer and anti-depressant for almost a decade. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense that I felt like it hadn't been working for at least a year. This is a reminder to check in with your doctor if you feel like your meds aren't working. You may just need a different dose or a new med. There's no shame in that. I bounced around on various medications trying to find the right combo, some side effects scarier than others, but we got there. Before this, I had been diagnosed with ADHD, Major Depressive Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, and Generalized Anxiety Disorder. My therapist threw out my Borderline diagnosis and said it was CPTSD instead, which made sense.

Fast forward to December because my wife was pregnant, I was unemployed still, and we did absolutely fuck-all because the global panini was still raging.

Our son was born on December 3, 2020. He weighed 5lbs 9oz and scared the ever loving shit out of us. He wasn't breathing when he was born so they called NICU in ASAP. I'm freaking out because I can hear and see what's going on while my wife was asking if he was okay as they put her guts back in place to sew her up. 5 or so minutes pass and a nurse asks if I want her to take some pictures. I'm like is he okay, he still hasn't cried. She's like "oh yeah, he's chillin." This goon was being held by a nurse and was just looking around not crying or anything. Chillest baby ever (he still is btw). I held him next to my wife's head until it was time to go back to the room. Little dude did have to spend 4 nights in the NICU because he couldn't keep his sugars or temperature regulated, but he was healthy otherwise. He's now 4 months old and is starting to sit up on his own a little bit and he's OBSESSED with standing. He's still a little guy, but very healthy and growing like a weed. He saves my life daily.

So after being unemployed for over 9 months, I started a new job working in a call center. I absolutely hate talking on the phone. It gives me anxiety and throws me into panic attacks, but I had been putting out hundreds of job applications since I lost my last job and this was the first offer I got. I wasn't really in a position to turn it down since my unemployment had ran out 2 months prior. It was 2 months of training, then we'd be on our own. I got thru the training and thought I could handle it...until they started putting us on live calls with someone helping us if we got stuck. My mental health hit the lowest point it had in a few years and my wife was terrified she was going to lose me. She convinced me to quit on February 28th (not because I didn't want to, but because I'm a stubborn ass who felt guilty). My meds got tweaked a little bit more dosage wise during this mess.

Starting about mid-February, I was experiencing severe shakiness, tremors, and spasms. I've always been a shaky person and never really thought too much about it, but at some points I could barely feed myself, or get a drink, or hold my son. On March 7th, I tried to make an appointment with my doctor about the weird symptoms I was experiencing, but she was out of town and her next opening wasn't until the 31st. My body said that won't work and my wife rushed me to the ER on the 9th...I had begun having seizures that day. I had no previous history of seizures. Got to the ER and had a seizure literally as I was walking thru the door, so they rushed me straight back. They took some blood and that was literally it. No MRI. No CT. They pumped me full of Ativan and said it was just a panic attack and to go home and chill.

Spoiler Alert: It wasn't just anxiety. I was having 20+ seizures a day. On the 10th, my wife rushed me to a different hospital...the good hospital over an hour away. First we had to drop off our gremlin with my mom to make things a little easier. Yet again, I had a seizure as I walked in the door and was taken back immediately. I don't really remember much because they kept pumping me full of Ativan and morphine because I had been in excruciating pain from the number of seizures I'd had. I do remember them doing a CT pretty quickly after I got there. Then they weren't happy with the results of the CT, so they took me to get an MRI, which showed possible signs of Multiple Sclerosis (but I didn't find that out until AFTER the notes showed up in my patient portal after being home a few days, so I raised hell...more on that later.) They did a 24 hour EEG on me and it showed nothing abnormal. Also, EEG glue is a bitch on your hair and scalp. After looking at everything and given my previous mental health history, they diagnosed me with Psychogenic Non-Epileptic Seizures, or PNES. It is a subset of Functional Neurologic Disorder, or FND. I couldn't walk well anymore and had to use a walker when I was discharged. I was in the hospital for 3 days.

When I had my follow-up appointment on the 23rd, I asked why the possibility of MS was never mentioned to me since it was very clearly in the notes. The doctor didn't have an explanation. He called in a referral to neurology so I could get a 2nd MRI to confirm MS and marked it as high priority. He also didn't take my pain seriously. My pain levels had been at a 5 or higher every single minute since they took me off of the morphine in the hospital. He told me to keep taking prescription strength doses of ibuprofen and Tylenol, which I had been. I let him know I had been and it didn't even take the edge off the pain. He ignored me. Leading up to this appointment, I had also added urinary incontinence to my growing list of symptoms and was forced to wear diapers so I didn't have to do laundry all the time. The doctor also took me off my ADHD meds because they were lowering my seizure threshold. He also took me off of my sleeping meds and nightmare meds for the same reason I'm assuming.

I kept my appointment on the 31st with my primary doctor because she's been my doctor for 5 years now and I knew she'd take my pain seriously. She did. She immediately wrote me prescriptions for a muscle relaxer and Tylenol 4. She also told me that my referral had been rejected by neuro. She said my case wasn't a good one for what she called a "wallet biopsy" and the doctors in neurology could be real assholes. She immediately sent the referral to other locations to get an approval. I am still waiting on that despite it being marked as high priority. She wrote me a prescription for a wheelchair because we both agreed my wheelchair was not enough for particular days.

Yesterday my wheelchair was finally ready for pickup, so my wife drove me to go get it. I'm still unable to drive due to my seizures and my tremors and twitches as it's predominantly in my legs and arms. I am an ambulatory wheelchair user now. Some days I can go short distances without my walker, some days I can't go without my walker, some days I can't even get out of bed, and some days I will be using my wheelchair. Don't judge a book by its cover, not all disabilities are visible. I have managed to keep my daily seizure count down in single digits and have even had a few seizure free days. They are still incredibly taxing on my body. I feel like I can't ever replenish my spoons fast enough to keep up with anything in my life.

So all in all, life has been chaotic. We are moving from Texas to New Mexico in the next few weeks, which should be interesting considering I can't overdo it without throwing myself into seizures. We will be closer to my mother-in-law so she can help us with our son and I can start resting a bit more on the more difficult days. Being a stay-at-home dad with an invisible illness has been one of the most challenging things I've done in my life, but I wouldn't change it for the world.

Sorry this is so long. I just wanted to update my followers since it's been over a year since I posted before a few days ago.

[woodsywizard]

There’s so much power in names. There’s really a reason you can’t give the fae your name-people understood the power of it. Names are so important to me as a trans person because of lots of reasons, but part of it isnt just that but also just,,, the power of it all. I mean, people have multiple names, nicknames, pet names. Names you call in anger, like full names or middle names. There’s so much ascribed or achieved identity in a name-it’s how youre viewed, how you’re defined. The name is a definition of the being, the way you’d give life to an entire thing by naming it. Who named the mountains early on? That must’ve been something. They were always so powerful. Giving something a name isnt just any old act-it’s an act of putting into being their identity and soul in one word. It’s the word you’ll call to at night to bring them back from the dead. It’s the word you’ll hear people singing to each other to say I am here and so are you! And you are a being with a defined soul-something to call to. We call each other’s names with such Power that I refrain from even using them without need sometimes.

I think realizing my deadname wasnt my real name was one of my earliest journeys pre puberty as a trans guy. It’s funny, really, because my deadname means ‘little girl’. My parents were heartbroken when I told them I had a name and it wasn’t that. I didn’t ask them to call me by it for years after I told them because it hurt too much to speak. But I knew early on there was no room for a name like what they’d given me in a life like mine. It wouldn’t ever define me the way I was-it would define the person they thought I was. At like 9 or 10 I played a childrens game online where I still has no access to trans info or resources but I called myself a new name every week until it stuck. And it stuck hard. It was just the letter B. I’d always felt so strongly about it. Something in that letter was romantic to me. Nothing like the cold unfeeling deadname I’d begun to associate with Fake Me, the me my parents believed they knew. But B, that was a letter. I also went online by he/him pronouns at that age without knowing anything more than the warmth I felt from it. The euphoria. I explored names and identity and the power of a definition really well when I wasn’t tied to anything but my words.

But when I grew up a little more I realized B wasn’t fully suitable for me out loud or in full. I wanted more of a mouthful of a word, and I wanted it to fit. I sought to define myself singularly, which is what I believe everyone could try to do if they find themselves trapped in a name they can’t agree with. But what’s in a definition of a name? How do you call yourself one little word-a made up word you use to call yourself by, to put on forms, to respond to heart and soul? It was a very rough road ahead of me. I knew for a fact it had to have a prominent B, somewhere in it. Of that, my identity would never feel more secure. But what sort of names fit that? I tried all the American names for B and it was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Apparently not many Americans took on plant names starting with B as the definition of their being. And calling myself Berry didn’t feel right. But I was always very drawn to nature, inherently more so than to people. So when I looked, I looked for nature names. And having recently read the picture of Dorian gray, it sort of hit me when I read it. Basil. I read it wrong, really. I’d never heard it pronounced out loud. Bay-zill, I thought. That’s a definition. It even sounded kind of fancy and gentlemenly, a name I could take to class.

Finding my name was a bit of a strange thing. It’s not like building something out of clay-it’s more like I already had a pre existing statue, but it was covered up in all this rock I had to chisel away to free it. And once I’d torn the rock away and revealed the art of self understanding, there was an expression of my identity in two syllables. Basil. A name I could follow behind when it was carried on the wind. A name that has made going to places selling tomato basil soup or plant stores very confusing for me. A name that leads to every other American I meet instantly not knowing how to pronounce it because I’m clearly not British either. And a name that has led to lots of confusion for people trying to help me with forms because it’s clearly not the one on most of those.

But there’s a reason it matters to me. It was very hard to figure out that name. It took so much chiseling. I am sure this is the one I can’t give the fae. And my middle name-even that ones special to me. I took it from someone who doesn’t accept me for who I am, but whom I still love very much because I’m always a fool trying to please the circus. I have a name, and it’s not the one my parents stuck to my forehead in an attempt to define me. It’s something I worked for. And I don’t think being trans is the only reason people should do this. I really truly believe finding yourself a name to be called by is something inherently human. Changing your name is often allowed for anyone, but I don’t recommend doing the legal stuff until you’re down pat on it. It’s a journey, not a race. Figuring each little piece out took me like three years when I started questioning it. I had lots of fun weird in betweens and nicknames I still use, but I think finding a label you can stick on forms with no discomfort is really appealing. I think names are powerful things, and calling to them by their true forms is the best way to reach the person asking you to. I don’t think it’s evil that my parents secretly deadname me. But it certainly means I’ll never be willing to share a part of that life with them. Il never feel comfortable or safe around them when the topic comes up. I told them who I was, and rather than listen or ask questions they told me I did not know myself as well as they did, though I knew I’d been lying to them for years to keep up that identity they thought I had. I dont trust them fully with myself anymore-it’s guarded off from them. They’re calling to a deity who doesn’t exist, praying on the grave in vain of a living person walking around who just doesn’t vibe with a definition they gave me. They also defined me as Catholic. That one didn’t go too well either. They’re still hoping on that one too though. I bared my soul to them as who I am and they responded with rejection of it until I would conform to their definition. Unfortunately, I tried very hard and couldn’t manage, so I was dead to them forever on this topic.

Anyway, yeah, I don’t care if you’re cis or trans or questioning or anything, finding a name you vibe with even if it’s just to give yourself a new nickname is really rewarding. Dont neglect self reflection too badly in the name of being normal if it means denying a little fun pet name you can try like those hallmark movies. And if you find out in the end of all that introspection you’re exactly where you started, that’s all the better! You have a lot less paperwork to do! :) Cherish the names that come by and fit into parts of your life when they do, because human beings are only ever changing and to maintain something through all that change is a feat for even the earth.

[night-dragon937]

I need to share my experience from a few hours ago (writing this at 2 am aug 24 2020) yesterday but first I'm going to slap a huge tw: abuse, Christianity/gay stuff, anxiety attacks, and yelling/screaming, transphobia/homophobia, self harm/cutting and a lot of cussing/swearing onto this. Like this is deeply religious and I'd rather not have discourse on my beliefs.

That should cover it...

Okay so it started out fine, my mom and i were just talking. She was drunk, and attempting to convince me that my asexuality meant that i was straight... But since she was drunk, I'mma give her that. There was a lot of aphobia but that's not what this is about She started telling me about her experience, and best i can describe it, she's a closeted demisexual biromantic lady with a preference for girls and a shit ton of internalized homophobia ("being sexually attracted to women's bodies more than men's doesn't make me lesbian, I'm still straight")

It was a mostly civil conversation, but it was adding onto my bad feelings from my dad the past several weeks making snide hurtful remarks about our religion and my sexuality and gender. Also using the f-slur against me when i had explained to him in the past how badly that word hurts me, to which he apologized profusely and said he'd never have used that word if he knew how it affected me. Obviously a lie, because he's still using it with full knowledge of the effects.

Back to my mom. She started getting into the religious side of it, but we managed to keep it civil, until the very end when she said she'd be praying for me and i said I'd be praying to help figure out who exactly i am, and she remarked "make sure you're praying to the right person" with a really threatening tone to her voice. At that point, i lost it, let her know that her saying that made me want to go back to cutting (in case she wasn't aware) and said that i needed a moment alone (or something along those lines, i was thrown head first into an anxiety attack and can't quite remember very well).

I ran upstairs as she tried to grab me and pull me back, but i managed to make it to my room. I went into a fetal position, because safe, but she came in and all i remember is her screaming repeating some question, i think, at me, me not being able to breathe, her hands squeezing my wrists way too tight, my wrist pinned to the carpet with her knee, the other with her hand as she tried to grab my jaw and force me to look at her.

Her touching me made the attack worse (hours later i still have marks and scratches) and i couldn't talk, think, or breathe. Somehow i was able to choke out repeated pleas for her to stop touching me because it was making everything worse. I don't know how long that lasted. But at some point she stopped grabbing me and just placed her hands on me and started praying in tongues. Like i was fucking demon possessed. Because i had an anxiety attack. Which my parents have been triggering in me for as long as i can remember.

I managed to sit up and get her to stop touching me, but she refused to be less than a foot away from me, even though i was going through a sensory overload and needed personal space. She finally trapped me into a corner of my room and put her arms on either side of me, one of them holding the door closed. She was screaming in my face and i was yelling over her, asking her to give me personal space and stop being so loud so that i could calm down, which she refused. I ended up very trapped and very uncomfortable and doing my best to not have another anxiety attack while replying to the most outlandish of her accusations, but mostly keeping my mouth shut in an attempt to get her to do the same.

She kept using my deadname, like usual, but it was worse for me for some reason at this point. I mentioned that and got yelled at more. I mentioned her pinning my wrists to the ground and got called a liar and she tried to make it so that i couldn't leave and grab a Kleenex until i admitted she was right and that i pinned myself to the ground (???). So i just started describing what i remembered until she got sick of it and let me go wipe my nose. She must have closed my door when she first came in. My dad (stepdad) was standing outside the door, eavesdropping, apparently.

I got a Kleenex but then my mom started yelling at me again, but i mostly just pretended to listen because i didn't want to have another anxiety attack. My dad started piping in and making me feel so much worse. He ended with saying "you're not a Christian. You don't believe in God. Even the devil believes in God." (Implying that I'm worse than the devil). At which point i started breaking down crying. And then i ran outside to have another anxiety attack but this time my mom just stood on the porch because the grass was wet and she was barefoot, but i curled up under the stars for who knows how long as i forced myself to do breathing techniques, and stim by rubbing the wet grass, which really helped ground me.

I went back inside when i was feeling better and got a drink of water and a Kleenex. And they started telling me how much they loved me and that i might not see it, but they were doing this out of love, because they were concerned for my eternity. I kept pointing out things they were doing that hurt me and better ways to do it (constructive criticism, so they know what's bad for me) and they repeatedly told me how much worse they could make it for me and that i should be glad they didn't make it worse. I pointed out that this didn't make their actions better and they said "doesn't make them wrong, either." Which ????? Victim blaming, abuse, what?

I brought up the times I've cried out to God for answers and the few times He's responded, (refusing my request for Him to kill me, telling me I'm not going to Hell for being gay/queer) bc they kept bringing up a few dubiously translated verses of the Bible and they told me that i was listening to the wrong person. That i was worshipping the wrong one. They heavily implied that i pray and worship the devil (disclaimer: i don't judge those who do, that's your life, I'm not gonna try and decide it for you, also i can admit that the church of Satan makes valid points and treats people right, from what I've seen, this is just a huge insult for them to throw at me specifically because of what I've been taught my whole life). Also invalidating my whole experience just because they don't like it.

They keep bringing up me being involved in the community (following queer people on social media, having one queer shirt, going to gsa-which they told me I'm not allowed to be a part of anymore-, having queer friends) as me seeking validation and attention, and that i shouldn't need validation and it shouldn't be about validation if I really think that this is who i am. Aka, because i am human and seek human things, i must be a total fake and fraud about all I've told them (very little). Meanwhile they do the exact same thing with their friends and social media and each other and everything.

My dad kept piping up with totally unrelated, totally unhelpful comments and tangents while my mom recited the same 5 min spiel for at least half an hour. My dad was saying how my grandparents aren't actually Christians because they agree with me that the world isn't black and white and there are some shades of gray, and because they believe once saved, always saved. That there is nothing you can do, as an imperfect human, to remove yourself from the infinite and unconscious love of God. (... I can't believe he fucking believes that humans have the ability to overrule God because it makes it easier for him to blame and condemn people he sees...)

These are the grandparents who have loved me regardless of my sexuality and gender, even tho they don't agree, and made me feel loved and gave me a place to go when i need to escape from my parents. They're the reason I'm keeping my mom's maiden name (since it hasn't been legally changed) because it's their last name, and it's them i want to honor, not my abusive shitty hateful stepdad. Unfortunately they are moving into assisted living because my papa is in a wheelchair, so i can't move in with them.

He ended that tangent with repeatedly telling me that i was not saved. That i was not a Christian. That i didn't believe in God. And that i was going to Hell. Repeatedly.

My mom made me hug her and made me tell her i love her. I ended up exercising to stop myself from becoming suicidal. I don't know if I'll tell anyone irl apart from the one irl friend i have on here. I'm not sure if I'm going to tell my therapist or not. I reached out to two of my christian friends after everything but they were both asleep. I needed to write this all down and put it somewhere public, just to be safe. I'm not safe in my own home and i can't move out because I'm a. Under 18 and b. Broke as hell

There was a lot more that happened, this lasted several hours, but i honestly can't remember all of the details besides what i typed out. Anyway so yeah i kinda wish i were dead but i also wanna stay alive for spite and show them that i can be a fabulous queer Christian and that the world is colorful, and you can't reduce that to monochrome and expect to have an even partially accurate view of the world. I want to help others like me, and help them feel better about myself.

I'm setting this as a queue so that if my parents take my phone away, they can't stop me from posting it (they have no clue how to look at queued posts) and also so that i can go to bed now and look at it again later and edit it

[prongsmydeer]

Ayesha Liveblogs Tiger King 

“I think it would be fair to say that Carole is the Mother Teresa of cats” now there’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear

“I’d never been a person who had friends” statements like this always perplex me because surely there had to be ONE other person in however long you quantify childhood that you identified with. Like not one whole ass person? You’re not the only person who loves cats Carole

The juxtaposition between Carole Baskin’s “Animal Print for Animal Rights” and Joe Exotic’s “Tiger King underwear is our bestseller” is poetic cinema

Okay this isn’t a reflection of my opinions on this man but I Saw a Tiger is a good country ballad there I said it 

“When I first met Joe, I was like a month out of high school” well that’s not good

[Joe Exotic voice] Some people have tigers to cope

Doc Antle has only been on screen for 30 seconds and already he has made himself memorable by directing the film crew

Is Bhagavan Antle Indian in some way or did he just have a really intense Eat Pray Love journey with his guru

Also is he really a doctor orrrrrrrrr

“I am out there in the forefront so known of being this guy that is in love with big cats and has them love him back” please don’t tell me this guy does anything weird to his animals

“People only care about saving what affects them” 

“You can’t put a price on holding a baby tiger” but you did and apparently it’s $625 

The fact that multiple tigers have had albinism is probably a sign of major inbreeding practices at these zoos

You know, even if I ate meat*, there is no way I would be able to handle any kind of early prep stage of it bc seeing these cow carcasses is A Lot

*If u r reading this I don’t care if u eat meat leave me alone

“Animals just wasn’t enough, okay? So then I started adding magic” well that took an unexpected turn

I don’t know if it’s for real fair to criticize every person who has brought a big cat out in a public venue/talk show because I know at least like Dave Sal/moni is always going “THESE ANIMALS MAKE TERRIBLE PETS” 

As a sidenote from what I understand this Saff person keeps being deadnamed/misgendered throughout this documentary and I do not appreciate it 

“I grew up a professional cowboy in a family of professional cowboys” every sentence on this show is a journey

WHO is letting their ONE-YEAR-OLD lay on top of a tiger cub I know you’re at a zoo but BRUH

“It’s going to be a small Waco” to say this ON THE NEWS

This 2 minute stretch of episode is all the PSA anyone ever needs to never own a gun

Well I think we can all agree that PETA is a fucking mess

God this is like battle of the people who are terrible at doing anything good for animals

“What do you carry that gun for?” “People” AHHHHHHHHHHH?!?!!!!?!?

“I sleep with an AK-47 under my mattress, loaded, ready to roll” WILL SOMEONE HELP THE U.S. OF A

I was warned about this show and yet I was still not prepared for the level of UNHINGED it would be 

How in the FUCK does a place like this not have an on-site medic

“Why don’t you come back on another day” he said, after telling the public an employee had his arm taken off 

“I am never gonna financially recover from this” SURE JOE THIS IS ABOUT YOU

To go back to work a WEEK after getting your arm amputated... BRUH

“Any law that you think’s unfair or unjustice, it is your obligation, it is your responsibility to stand up against that bullshit law” well Thomas Jefferson was a slaveowner so clearly the injustice thing was relative for him

Traditionally don’t drug addictions fuel people choosing extreme paths with their life rather than the other way around? 

JKHGKJHGKJH this whole exchange:

Interviewer: What kind of doctor is he?

Maria: Mystical science.

Interviewer: Mystical science?

Maria, nodding: Yeah.

“How many wives does Doc Antle have?” I didn’t expect this but somehow it tracks

I’m gonna bet none of these people with subcontinental names have a single bit of South Asian heritage like okay “Moksha” and “Rajnee” did Bhagavan name you

On a more serious note: It’s really fucked up that these men keep meeting literal teenagers, making them their employees, and then also get into relationships with them. I cannot emphasize this strongly enough THIS IS NOT GOOD OR HEALTHY

It’s pretty weird that Doc Antle keeps emphasizing so frequently that one of his partners is Italian 

“I’m gonna go be a yoga animal trainer” ah, white people bullshit

“Goodbye. Don’t fall in love with your boss.” Good advice, Dad

I was not expecting all this subcontinental imagery to get under my skin this badly but what’s your problem dude can’t u be normal for like a second 

“You’re this garbage person, but if you listen to me, I’ll make you great” again this tracks but gross

Again, on a more serious note: if a partner ever talks to you this way please call a domestic abuse hotline 

Not that India is at all in a good place right now but I personally ban Doc Antle from ever entering India. Banned. Forever. I will not be accepting constructive criticism at this time

“I didn’t really know any better” is a really good way of summarizing what all of these younger partners have been through

Wow Carole is really explaining this abuse issue succinctly 

Antle’s indignation at being implied to be a cult leader despite the fact he is most definitely a cult leader

Joe’s story in his documentary is constantly “is this going to be a humanizing moment PSYCH it’s still terrible”

HOW IS THIS LEGAL PAY YOUR WORKERS A LIVING WAGE

Why is this husband-killing thing JUST A FOOTNOTE AT THE END OF THIS EPISODE OH MY GOD

We have deviated so far from the tiger thing oh my god

Why is the only man in this documentary who is faithful to his spouse the man that smuggled drugs inside of snakes

Every time I learn a new thing about a person in this documentary I have to reorient myself

This whole episode has been about this murder and I’m concerned that its title, “The Secret,” hasn’t even been revealed yet

GOD I take back what I said about I Saw Tiger, the concept of this song/music video for Here Kitty Kitty is so disturbing that this man deserves no credit whatsoever as a musician 

CAROLE WHY ARE YOU GIGGLING ABOUT THE MEAT GRINDER IT’S NOT FUNNY

Well I don’t have much to say about this episode other than yikes

I guess if you’re really out to spite someone stealing their brand and posting exactly the opposite of everything they stand for is an effective if weird and petty way to do it

Do you think the whole throne footage moment was a “Frankenstein realizing what he has wrought” kind of thing for Kirkham

This is really like watching a sports game of two teams you can’t stand except the sport is murder and other miscellaneous crime

If we’re all being real with ourselves the documentary filmmakers themselves MUST have had some issues going on to be able to walk into this situation and not do anything about it

This series really seems to present a compelling case for why every major figure in this documentary has potentially committed at least one terrible crime

Ah there’s the judgment from the woman in Florida I guess it’s two crimes with one stone

God these poor animals they do not deserve anything happening to them

While obviously people are enticed by the prospect of someone they’re into having an animal JUST GET AN ALREADY DOMESTICATED ANIMAL LIKE DOMESTICATED CATS AND DOGS EXIST OH MY GOD DO NOT USE EXOTIC PETS AS DATE BAIT

 It has been so long since we heard about Travis ngl I already forgot about him 

Why is every single person in this show SO OFF THE WALLS I mean I know why but also WHY

This documentary is also a treatise in the flaws of the U.S. prison system and how it sets up people up to fail or re-offend upon release

Take a shot every time a middle-aged man in this show mentions that he casually bought himself a big cat as a teen

“Joe was the entertainment director.... by title” I don’t think this was meant to be a burn but what a burn

I am almost certain I WATCHED that Last Week Tonight episode during that election and if u told me that 4-5 years later I would be rewatching that clip in a documentary about this man’s journey to being convicted for murder then I cannot say I wouldn’t be surprised but I would probably believe it 

Also I have to wonder what John Oliver thinks about being part of this 

[“Beyonce?” voice] Shaun Majumder?

Sidenote: Until this exact moment I thought of Shaun Majumder as Ben Mulroney even though Brian Mulroney is white as hell I guess I have faceblindness but only for Canadian talkshow personalities

I have been aware of this before now but the fact you can buy a GUN at a Walmart what in the FUCK is U.S.A. doing

Man does this campaign manager really want to take ownership of anything Joe Exotic has ever done

Ngl I was wondering why someone who had at one point clearly had a lot of money seemed to have such poor dental care access but meth certainly does explain it

I mean people can be attracted to both men and women (hello) but since Joe was fuelling their drug addictions since they were teenagers attraction is at best a null factor and at worst an added layer of terrible to this whole mess

It’s hard to even respond to this in a meaningful way because this is so fucked up. Don’t own guns.

“That was a big fucking mistake,” he said, right after someone explained that he was driving large groups of people in an enclosed space in a busy city with wild animals that could maim or kill them

Padlock penls piercing really does not seem like a first date bombshell

“We went to dinner and he never went home” well if that doesn’t set you with a sense of foreboding

TWO MONTHS AFTER WHAT IN THE HELL OH MY GOD also I hope Dillon is okay

“It wasn’t about the animals anymore” you THINK

“It was sort of funny when they started but it’s gotten really dark” how meta

Of all the reasons Joe could’ve abandoned his zoo, I really didn’t think embezzlement would be what pushed him

“He won’t tell anyone where he’s at, not even me,” said Dial, with no acknowledgement of the fact that Joe is also theoretically still married and would maybe tell his husband???

Oh Dillon spotted??? Yikes get out dude

Take a shot every time a white person who really doesn’t understand where the word “karma” comes from starts talking about karma as if it is the Law of Revenge

The fact this man brings a film crew out with him while he’s on the run evading a federal investigation..... incomprehensible

“Joe just wanted to put it in somebody’s name and continue to be the tiger queen, I mean king,” really REALLY of all the reasons to object to Joe you’re going to choose homophobia wow

Is this about an attempt to have someone murdered or does something happen to Baskin it is very unclear

This documentary has an interesting format of switching focus from crime to crime to crime 

“I’ve never been as proud of being married to anyone as I am being married to you” It’s weird to compliment your husband by comparing him to all your other husbands

How is the lesson for Jeff Lowe in this “let’s build another zoo” surely at that point it’s better to just cut your losses

[Garretson voice]: You should pay me for being a bro, dude

“I’m a libertarian, so technically, fuck the Feds,” I’ve never heard an intonation that better suits a conservative millennial 

I mean I don’t think it was advisable but honestly why are people surprised Joe took the stand isn’t delusions of grandeur kind of his thing

Sometimes it’s just that they’ve added in other moments to break up the awful immoral crimes with just run of the mill douchebaggery like the nanny/gym thing huh

I guess the silver lining in this is that potentially these big cat zoos will shut down but like where do these animals who have been raised in captivity go??? I don’t trust anyone in this documentary to not exploit them in some way ugh 

“Not a single animal benefited from this war,” correct, Saff

“I was wrapped up in having a zoo,” not really an excuse but ok

[glolovescats]

A story of me and my history. My experiences.

CW - trauma, sexual assault, mental health struggles (ADHD, BPD, OCPD, Depression, PTSD, Autism??), self harm, addiction, psychological abuse

.

.

I’m 27 years old, non binary, AFAB. I am the older middle child of 4, all of my siblings are brothers.

I’ve been diagnosed with ADHD, BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder), OCPD (Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder) and most recently PTSD.

My first psych evaluation was when I was 5 years old, and I have recently found the notes from that evaluation and they point to early onset BPD traits as well as ADHD.  Though it is stated repeatedly throughout the notes that they could not complete a full assessment because I refused to participate in any activity or or engage with anything that I deemed “too difficult” instead spending more time on the things that I was comfortable with such as painting.

My favourite lines from the assessment are as follows:

“If she is not motivated by an activity, she trends to wander off physically and mentally.  However if interested, she can concentrate for long periods of time.”

 “*Deadname* was a great talker and loved to tell stories on and off topic. She had a keen sense of her own capabilities and was often self-critical of her work stating ‘it does not look good.’ It was very difficult to change her mind and she appeared to want to be in control of the situation.”

I remember after this assessment being medicated for ADHD for a few months. My parents called them my “hyper pills” because if I was hyper it meant I probably hadn’t taken them..... yikes.

After those few months, for whatever reasons my parents took me off the medication.

I have had a very intense oral fixation since a very young age, biting my nails for as long as I remember and being a thumb-sucker, not just during sleep but during awake hours as well, until I was 9 years old.

When I was 11 I began self harming, as a way to release my emotional energy and tensions and soothe myself.

When I was 13 I told my mom about my self harming, at which point she sent me to a psychiatrist again. I was again diagnosed with ADHD and put on medication, which I remained on until my second year of college when I decided I didn’t want to be medicated anymore.  As a teen, I continued to self harm but hid it from my mom as she was very critical and cruel in her reactions to it.  Anytime I had emotional outbursts (which was, fairly often) I would be asked “have you taken your meds today!!?” as if that would solve everything going on.  I spent many hours curled up in a ball in my closet crying, sobbing, feeling like I was going to explode, then hurting myself to calm down.

When I left home for college, I developed anorexia. I stopped cutting myself, but began hitting myself repeatedly until bruises formed, then maintaining those bruises over long periods of time as a new form of self harm.  It was also in this time that my love of cannabis started to really form (I had enjoyed it as well as a teen, but in limited capacities as I lived with parents who I had to hide it from, and they were quite controlling over my social life and free time)

After 2 years of college, my first queer partner, whom I still feel very fondly for and maintain a very strong friendship with, noticed not only my eating disorder but also my self harm habit, and convinced me to seek help.  A few months later I went to my doctor and was diagnosed with Depression and Anxiety, and put back on medications.  I was 19 then, I am 27 now and still on that same medication, though the dose has varied throughout the years depending on my emotional state.

I went through some other relationships, some healthy, some less so.

I became more and more in love with cannabis. SPending what little money I had on it. “Borrowing” some from friends and lovers. Smoking when I woke up, in the afternoon, and before bed, sometimes throughout all hours of the day.

When I was 23 I fell in love with a man named Derek. It was the first cis man I had ever truly fallen in love with, and that love became... toxic. Obsessive. At the time I would have called it passionate but I know now that it was very unhealthy.  I put everything in my life aside for him. I risked pregnancy not because I wanted a child (I never have) but because I wanted to make sure he would never leave me.  This is also when my love of cannabis solidified into an addiction.  I was using it to cope with the pain of being so desperately in love with someone who, wasn’t very good at catering to my needs, to put it lightly. He was a dealer at the time, this was before it became legalized in Canada so dealers were still very much needed.  So I always had access to it, and for free or cheap.  We would wake up in the middle of the night and go smoke a couple bowls before heading back into bed. We smoked all day every day, it was what our relationship revolved around.  We would also take large amounts of MDMA on the weekends and go out dancing from midnight to 8 or 9am at the after hours clubs, then go home and smoke to ease the come down. This gave me a love for MDMA which is a terrible thing for someone with low serotonin to begin with.

Nearly two years into our relationship, my friends started to notice that I wasn’t being treated well, that I was always hurting, always longing for more from him, and always pushing aside my needs to accommodate him.  They begged me to leave him.  I was having breakdowns, even with my antidepressants. I was self harming again. I was having rage blackouts. I was hurting.  A few months later, he broke up with me.  I begged him not to. I promised I could be right for him. We just had to try. He didn’t want to try.

Now, 4 years later, I’m so glad he didn’t. Yes, my heart was shattered in that moment, yes it sent me on a spiral, but I see now how toxic the relationship was and he is not anything like the person I would want to be with for life.

At that time I was living in towns on the outskirts of Toronto, but his dumping me gave me the push I needed to move to into the city, which I did, y months later. March 15th 2017.  Moving to Toronto meant more freedom, more access to all the things that made me happy - a queer community, a polyam community *I discovered Polyamoury about 2 months after our breakup and realized how much I needed it*, more job opportunities, more diversity and acceptance.  It also meant higher rent, higher weed prices as I was now buying from dispensaries, higher transit costs and generally higher cost of living.  Some of my new friends were sex workers and it... appeared enticing for me.  however I didn’t feel close enough with these friends yet to ask details about safety, vetting, standards, etc.

Well, I decided to get into sex work for myself, without really knowing what i was getting into.  I’m not going to get into much detail here because my PTSD stems directly from these experiences and I don’t want to trigger myself right now.  But I spent 2 years working as a Sugar Baby and Full Service Sex Worker.  I did not have standards. I was driven by my need to maintain my weed habit - which was at least 2 grams/day - so on average about $600/month or more.  I didn’t take safety into mind more than letting my roommate know the given name and phone number of the person I was meeting up with.  This led to... a lot of fucked up situations. A lot of pain and trauma. I was constantly high, which allowed my to dissociate while these things were happening to me and suppress the memories quite quickly. By this time in my addiction, I was never NOT stoned.  On top of that I would occasionally take MDMA before or during a date to maintain a peppy mood and appearance.  On March 1st 2019, after realising that I wasn’t even making money off of all of it, I was driven far into debt by trying to maintain appearances and a lifestyle that i just couldn’t afford, and a realization that I was dissociating whenever I was being intimate with a client OR a friend or loved one... I decided to leave the industry. It’s been over a year now.

In the first year of my living in Toronto I saw a psychiatrist about my mental instability, my rage blackouts, my obsessiveness. I was diagnosed with BPD and put on a mood stabilizer, which I admit has helped a lot in terms of my heightened emotions and rage problems.

During those first 2 years in Toronto, I was also in a queer, polyam relationship with a person named Laurel.  At first i was drawn to their softness, their creativity, their ability to be vulnerable with me and others.  Eventually, that vulnerability became co dependance. They used me as a crutch, they took all of my emotional energy for themselves and never gave any in return.  While I was being traumatized, I was also supporting them through their mental health struggles and ignoring my own. They had a bad habit of disregarding and stomping all over my boundaries. even after we would discuss them and i would make compromises. I was being abused by this inherently toxic person (I say that, having many friends who have witnessed and felt the toxicity from this person as well). By April 2019 I was drained, I was traumatized, I was falling into a pit and being pushed down even further by the person who claimed to love me.  When I tried to set boundaries I was met with threats of suicide, manipulating me into staying with them longer.  But eventually I started to see through it and I just couldn’t anymore. I ended it. Which was met with a lot of cruelty and more manipulation to the point where eventually I had to just block them from every form of contact and move on.

Throughout the year after that, my weed habit maintained, and got even more intense, going up to closer to 3 grams/day and including concentrates and edibles as well.  I was always high. Always numb. I couldn’t remember anything. I couldn’t focus during conversations even if I was really interested in what we were talking about. I couldn’t stay awake, I would pass out while hanging out with friends, while on public transit, in movie theatres.. anywhere. I could hardly get out of bed in the mornings and when I did I would go straight for the bong.

I was constantly fatigued and I felt numb. I didn’t want to believe my precious cannabis could be doing this to me though, so I begged my doctor to refer me to a psych to discuss changing medications, assuming it was my meds giving me these side effects.  That psychiatrist diagnosed me with OCPD, saying that he believes this is what has always caused the depression and anxiety, and he also diagnosed me with CUD - Cannabis Use Disorder - essentially a fancy way of saying I’m an addict and my drug of choice is cannabis.  He told me that he would not touch my meds until I either drastically cut back my usage or stopped altogether.

I was devastated, I hated the idea of having to not smoke weed anymore. And I knew I would HAVE to stop altogether because my many many many attempts in the past to cut back were never successful. I knew then that I was an addict, just like my alcoholic father, my alcoholic and cocaine addict younger brother. I knew I had the gene too.

I discovered MA - Marijuana Anonymous, which is like AA  or NA but for stoners.  My dad had been sober for 11 years with the help of rehab and AA so I figured I would give it a shot.  I smoked my last bowl on February 29th, I went to my first meeting on March 1st.  I haven’t smoked or consumed any cannabis products since. It’s over 4 months now. I also made the conscious decision to be sober from alcohol as in the past my attempts at smoking less weed led to drinking more alcohol.  I know I need to fight my addiction as an entire entity, not just as one substance.

In the past 4 months I’ve been through a lot of ups and downs.  Not only with sobriety, but with the pandemic hitting Canada mid march, forcing me out of work and stuck at home, it’s had both positive and negative effects.  My first month of sobriety I was fairly manic, I wasn’t as hazy and groggy and fatigued, I had also just started taking Vyvanse - a stimulant - for my ADHD. So I was very motivated and I was cleaning and creating and doing all these things I could with my free time.  Then about a month and a half into it I started to get physically depressed - I say it that way because my mind felt ok. IO wasn’t having catastrophic thinking or suicidal ideation or desires to self harm - but I was feeling very avoidant and sleeping and napping so much more. Two months in, my memories that I had been suppressing with the constant high started to come through to my conscious. Sometimes they were childhood or teen memories, which I could mostly cope with.  But then came the memories from the sex work. The traumatic experiences. The shame that surrounds them.  I was having invasive thoughts. I would lay my head down to sleep and suddenly be in flashbacks.  I had known for a long time (about a year, since leaving the industry) that I was triggered into panic attacks by intimacy and touch, but I didn’t know exactly what was causing those panic attacks. I just knew that touch made me feel so unsafe.  Well, now I knew why. One night I called my sponsor, crying, stuck in a loop of flashbacks and memories and feeling like I couldn’t breathe.  And then the words just flowed out of me, I said “I think maybe I have PTSD”.  Luckily for me, I already had a follow up appointment with my psychiatrist scheduled for the next week. I told him everything that was happening, that I was remembering things but then getting stuck in flashbacks and shame and cycling thoughts. He then diagnosed me with PTSD. He suggested we go back up to a slightly higher dose of my antidepressant while maintaining my other medications (I’m still on the mood stabilizer and the stimulant) and urged me to find ongoing therapy. My sponsor had sent me a link to a group of psychotherapists who work on a low budget sliding scale, so I referred myself to them and within 48 hours had a free 50 minute consultation scheduled.

Where am I now?

Struggling with the invasive thoughts which make me feel depressed, but knowing where they stem from is helpful.  Awaiting my therapy consultation which is in a couple of days, hoping it’s a good match and that we can start speaking weekly or every other week depending on cost.

For a while now I’ve been trying to decipher whether I really do have ADHD< BPD and OCPD all blended together, or if I’m really autistic, because so many of my traits and symptoms overlap with autism.  I’m doing my research now on traits of autism and seeing where I identify.  I doubt I would ever get a diagnosis, as doctors would rather believe we have all these other disorders rather than autism (stigma), but to know where I feel I fit would be helpful.  I have some friends on the spectrum and I’ve reached out to them to discuss as well.  My youngest bother is autistic but he really fits the “autistic teen boy” stereotypes which I do not.  And I understand that autism can present very differently in different genders and different people.  Personally, I believe I may be Autistic and have PTSD. But I will continue to pursue ongoing therapy, as well as DBT therapy, to address my behaviours and see where I can learn to cope better.

I am probably the most single polyam person you could meet. I have no intention of dating, though I do have a couple crushes I intend to grow strong friendships with, until I have learned to cope with the PTSD and intimacy triggers. In a way it’s as if I am currently feeling asexual, because even the thought of kissing someone I like triggers me into a panic.  But I don’t believe that I will feel this way forever so I don’t use asexual as an identifier or label for myself.  I am not working, though still technically employed, my job is in the travel industry and we don’t expect to have enough meaningful work to return to until at least the fall.  When i do return to work I’ll be doing so remotely, as will most of the employees of our company. So I have less transit expenses, less time constraints, and more freedom to focus on myself and my personal development.  I’ve made this tumblr to explore and learn more about autism in adults. As well as to have something to do and distract myself with when i start to enter a depressive cycle.  SO this blog will be a mix of mental health and neuro-divergent info posts, along with cute animals, selfies, travel photos, and maybe a little shit posting - as a treat.

Welcome, and thank you for reading my story.  If you have any questions or relate to any of it and want to chat, my inbox is open.

[uoblgbtq]

hey! no idea if this is still active but im an incoming fresher! im nonbinary and was wondering if there are any other enby people as a part of the society? and if i could ask generally how accommodating the uni is about pronouns? thanks!

Hello! We don’t really use this anymore no (maybe we will with such an odd year incoming!) but we got your ask on our email inbox so I came on here to answer you! There are a lot of non-binary people at the association, and even amongst committee - I myself, the Chair, am non-binary. There is also the trans & Non-Binary Students Part Time Officer. This is an elected position within the Guild of Students, and this year, it’s being shared by two students, one of whom is non-binary. So yes, there are plenty of us ^:^ As for pronouns, that’s a very broad question that will depend on what department you are with as well. Before that tho: 1) you will have to sign up online; this should let you pick Mx as a title 2) if it doesn’t, when we are all back on campus we will have an organised trip to take all trans students to the student resources desk, so that can get sorted. 3) If you are concerned about deadnames, the student card does have to show your legal name, but it will only show an initial; canvas is the uni main’s platform for educational resources, and how teachers are more likely to communicate with you. On there, you can choose a different name than your legal name. 4) for pronouns specifically; within the LGBTQ+ spaces you will always be refered to as what you wish. Teachers do really depend on department and person; however, you only really interact with teachers if they a) are your tutor, b) you have labs, c) have seminars. In those instances, you will be able to speak to each of them to have them use your correct pronouns; most will not complain, some might need correecting, but we - the Association and the Trans Officers - are working to make all teachers and TAs better at this, and we will be here for you regardless.

----- I hope that answered your question; feel free to ask again if you’ve got any follow ups and, also, check out our other social medias! We keep more active there. Insta and Twitter it’s public you are following us or interacting with us; but on Facebook we have both a public page and a private, secret Facebook group (actually, we have a few!). To get added to any of those just message the public page. Lastly, we have a discord server too! link to which is on the private fb group