#and that’s not even mentioning what had to happen for her to change from [deadname] she/her to ryan she/they

[autistic-katara]

why did my dysphoria have to choose right now to get rlly bad-

[grave-z-boy]

Right so I love your writing and just need more mx m cause fuck I'm tired of imaging dead me .

I'm a Trans man..I think ( female to male ??) So I was hoping for a fic somewhat like that . Arthur and reader meet when they're female but 2 years later or so they meet again and arthur doesnt recognize y/n (because they transitioned) I just want some fluff and acceptance of that . I know back then homosexuality was a big no no and being trans is unheard of so it'll be fun to see where you take it.

Arthur Morgan x Trans!Male!Reader

Summary: You’ve felt stuck and unhappy for years, so, in pursuit of your own happiness you leave everyone and everything you’ve even known behind. Including your currently out of state lover, Arthur Morgan.

Word count: 6,011

Warnings: reader is a bartender, reader steals, readers sister and mother are mentioned, implied past sex between Arthur and reader, drinking and alcoholism mentioned (not reader or Arthur), y/n and his guns, guns mentioned, shooting mentioned, abandonment, hurt comfort, reader being One Of The Guys™️, sleep deprived Arthur, Tilly being helpful, reader get misgendered and deadnamed a lot but it’s before they knew he was trans, reader cries really fucking hard at one point Arthur being sleep deprived, sleep deprive Arthur being really gay for Reader, not mentioned in the story but the reason Arthur is so tired is because about half way though his second trip to town his horse bucked him off for pushing her too hard and he had to walk the rest of the way, worlds longest warning list damn

Sept. 15, 18XX

My Dear Arthur Morgan

It’s been thirteen months since I saw you last. The time has passed slowly for me- sometimes it felt as though I was standing still for days at a time. Like everyone and everything around me was moving forward- but for me, and only me, time stood still. In the months since you’ve left it seems my joy, as well as a my love for my home town, has dwindled to nothing. Staying here, the way I am, it pains my heart. I know I said I would be here, that I would wait for you to return. But I need to change and the change that I need cannot be achieved here. The people here know me, they’ve known me my whole life, and no matter what I do I will always be that same little girl to them.

I’m heading up to a little town in Nevada, maybe I can start over there.

Always yours, D/n.

Arthur received your final letter months ago. In the time since he’s read it hundreds of times, mulling over every little detail. The crumbles in the paper, the unevenness of your writing, the all too familiar tear stains that permanently warped small circles on the page, the way your name ripped through the paper, as though you’d traced it dozens of times before sending it off.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever understand what happened, why after all this time of waiting, all this time of writing him dozens of love letters, why you decided to say goodbye, he understood change. Arthur has seen people change, he’s changed, and if it was change you needed he’d do it again. But you left. If he really wanted to, he could find you, ride day and night, ask everyone he saw if they’d seen the beautiful woman that he loved more than anything. But…

You didn’t want that. You didn’t want to be hunted down, you didn’t need to be convinced. You needed change, not a reason to stay the same. So he let you go and even when the following days were filled with the nothing but pain and confusion and the complete desolation your decision brought, he still let you go.

The gang knew he was hurting, he was withdrawn, went off on his own for a couple of days. They figured he went to find you, but when he returned, without you and in a severely worse state, they knew not to press him on it.

You weren’t much better.

This was your decision and you were going to live with it. You yearned for Arthur, every day and every night, it was different from waiting for him in your hometown, he was the one who’d left then, but you knew he’d come back to you one day. Now you were the one leaving, and you could never go back to him.

You needed to move on, you sold every piece of clothing you had to a local tailor, it was almost funny to see some of your nicer dresses displayed in the window the next morning, early on, your new wardrobe came from various drunk men. You’d be surprised just how much you could find in an alley next to a bar. After you had an outfit, a proper male outfit, you were able to assimilate.

You lived above a tavern. The owner was far too old and far too tired to run it anymore, and he wanted to live in his own house for the first time in decades, so he offered you the place for a little over a hundred bucks. You worked at the bar at night, while you handled various chores and other responsibilities during the day. The pay wasn’t great, but you had a permanent place to stay and spare food from the bar to eat, and it was more than enough.

You’d taken up a new name, y/n, you thought about it for a long time before you left. A good name, the name of a proud man with no connection to who you were before. No one ever questioned you. You were just a man to them. They teased you, in the earlier days, called you feminine, pointed out your hand, your cheeks, and your hips among other things, but in the end it was just teasing, they didn’t know why you were like that, and they didn’t question when you put in an effort to change or hide your more feminine aspects. Maybe they were just too drunk to care.

You loved this life, you were just the friendly bartender.

But even with this new life, you found yourself missing aspects of you’re old one.

Your old friends, your old family, your old lover. They wouldn’t take you back, not like this, they’d think something was wrong, they’d try to change you, try force you back into the box you clawed yourself out of.

But still you dreamed of them, your sisters cooking, the way she was effortlessly graceful even when she was teasing you, your friends, the girls you’ve know since you were in diapers, singing, making flower crowns, getting into trouble. Arthur…

You dreamed of Arthur the most. Your days and nights were filled with thoughts of him. You think back to your last night together, the way he held you so tightly, you swore you could still feel his hands there. The praises he muttered, the love he confessed through out the night, every move he made, the way he left and the hole that was left in your chest after.

You dreamed of him, like one day you’d wake up and he’d be beside you. And he tell you that he loved you, not d/n, not the girl from before, but you, y/n, as your truest self.

But just like yesterday, and the days before that, he wasn’t there when you opened your eyes.

The sun was just coming up. But the sliver of light that did shine through the window seemed to magically be angled at your eyes. Making the rest you so desperately wanted impossible.

You pushed yourself up with a groan, your elbow popping the moment you were upright, your eyes were just barely open, you scratched your chest and let out a long yawn.

Your room was still dark for the most part, but you were still able to pull on some pants and fasten a belt so you could head downstairs. The tavern was empty, you cleaned up good last night and you wouldn’t have to worry about really opening until later. Still, you unlocked the front door and flipped the wooden sign in the window to say open, the people here knew you weren’t really open to serve, you were just open to the chatty people that passed through in the morning, locals coming to say hi, or travelers in need of direction, others came to sit with their friends and get out of the violent Nevada sun. Either way, you’d be polite enough to them, but they weren’t welcome for a drink for another couple of hours.

Stepping into the backyard you picked the laundry off the line and into a basket. You heard the bell up on top of the front door ring a couple of times. As you got closer to the back door you could hear the faint chatter of two people inside, Doctor Mayer, one of three doctors in town, and Anita, a house wife. She was in here more often than her husband was, but you always figured that she just needed something to do while he worked considering you’ve only ever seen her drink a handful of times in the past year.

When you came through the back door she let out an excited yelp,

“Y/n!” She shouted, like she hadn’t seen you the night before.

“Mrs. Matthews.” You said with a respectful nod. “How’s you’re husband?”

She groaned, “paranoid.”

Setting the basket down on the bar, in between the upturned stools, you turned back to her.

“He used to be a farmer, farmers are always paranoid.”

“He was not a damn farmer, don’t let that man fool you, he was a farm hand, it’s different,”

Dr. Mayer piped in, his voice low and tired, though that just how he always sounded, “the bastard smells like one…”

“It’s getting warmer out there.” You responded, leaning against the bar.

“Doesn’t mean he has to walk around smelling like a damn animal!”

You laughed, turning back to Anita, “what does your husband do anyway?”

“He’s a banker, which is why he’s so damn paranoid in the first place.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well..” she stated, adjusting herself in her chair, “one of his colleague’s brother-in-law told his colleague that he saw a gang ‘a outlaws heading up this way, but here’s the kicker, Johnny, the colleague, is a notorious liar. Lies left and right like his life depends on it.”

“Johnny Flores?” You asked.

She smacked the table, “That’s the bastard!”

“Yeah, he comes in here every Wednesday like clockwork, telling the boys his stories. It’s a surprise the whole town hasn’t heard about this..”

“Well, it isn’t Wednesday yet, is it? It’ll make it’s way into you’re bar, don’t worry”

You laughed again, grabbing the basket off the table you said, “Alright, I’ll be back in a minute, got a few more thing to settle.”

You weren’t too worried about the rumors, there wasn’t much in the town anyways, no sheriff either so if they did come and make noise, it’d be a free for all and they’d leave with less than they came with. Everybody had a gun, hell- you had two, a shotgun the last owner had given you, and a pistol Arthur had given you a few weeks before he left, one was under the bar on a shelf, the other was under your bed, you’ve never really had a need for either, but if Johnny was being truthful for once in his life, which you doubted, you figured it was good to have them.

That night, when the bar did open, a few unfamiliar faces strode in, though none were to shady. A couple of working girls took to them quick and they were gone after being chatted up by for a bit. Outside of that, it was a normal night.

You closed late, shooing out the last drunk nearly two hours later than usual. Wiping down the tables, flipping the chairs and stools on them, washing the glasses, sweeping, mopping and making sure the front and back door was locked before heading upstairs. You scrubbed yourself down at your washstand. Of all things you missed from your old home, your bathtub was one of the bigger ones. Your mother had invested in it early on, and now you were saving to have one installed here too. What you wouldn’t do for a hot bath after a long day. You were almost there, another fifty dollars and you’d have all the money you needed. That’s were a good portion of your money went, you didn’t mind, after all you’ve sacrificed you deserve something nice.

——-

A couple of weeks later, Wednesday afternoon, Johnny Flores and a couple of his friend decided to take over the seats directly in front of the bar. Again, he told stories of bandits headed your way, but he was “serious” this time.

“I swear, I know what I saw, Dutch’s boys, just like the damn posters! I saw them coming from the east, clear as day.”

Before one of his friend could respond you asked, “and what the hell were you doing in the east, huh?”

“Well-“ he straightened himself out, “I was out with my lady friend-“

“The prostitute-“ his friend, Oscar, interrupted.

“-Not a prostitute, she's a-”

“-escort-” both Johnny and his three friends said together, they've heard that one before.

“Isnt that the same thing?” you asked.

“He doesn't think so!” Oscar said.

“They almost knocked our carriage over!” Johnny shouted, getting the conversation on track.

“Sure they did..” you said, drying the glass in your hand before setting it back down. “Bet they stuck you up too, only let you live cuz you're so pretty.”

“Go to hell, y/n.”

“I'll go where ever your lying, drunk ass ain't.”

“Im not lying, and I’m not drunk either, so get me another whiskey, asshole!”

“Hey now,” Daniel, who was also a regular, piped up, “careful how you talk to him, he might shoot ya’”

You set the glass down in front of him, he snatched it quickly, gulping it down.

“Or I might just piss in your whiskey.”

He choked hard, luckily the drink went down his throat instead of all over your counter, then you would have shot him. His face morphed to one of irritation, but his friend's laughter was infectious and he found himself laughing along with them.

The night ended with you carrying a passed out Johnny to the alley, you cleaned up, scrubbed yourself down, and went to bed just as you always did.

The next morning a delivery was made to the bar, food and alcohol, you kept your meats and some of your more expensive liquor in the ice box and things like bread and supplies were kept on the shelf. Food wasn't ordered commonly in the tavern, but there were those who ate here nearly every night because they had no skill for cooking and no one else to do it for them. You enjoyed those people, and you think they enjoyed you too, especially since the last owner would drive them out if they tried to come in for more than three days in a row. He thought that they were stealing food from other customers, but you didn't, You knew they were just hungry and needed to eat, and they couldn't be stealing because they always paid.

After that, your day was pretty normal- other than what you consider to be one the best things to happen to you in a long time- your bathtub, your beautiful porcelain bathtub with golden feet and faucet, was done. Fully installed and in perfect working order. You weren't going to pretend to understand how the man you paid did it, but he did. And finally, after what felt like years, you were able to take a hot bath.

It was weird, staring down at your distorted body as you soaked. Usually, when you scrubbed yourself down at the washstand all you could think of was how desperately you wanted this to be over. Your mind was clear, but that clarity only lasted so long though, as it did most nights, your mind wander to Arthur.

Saying you missed him was redundant, it was meaningless, it was stupid. You know, but you did. Letting out a long sigh, the last time you saw Arthur was like a dream, you spent an entire day together, you woke up together, ate together, bathed together, dressed together- everything you did, every little move you made reminded you of that day. And with Johnny spreading rumors about the Dutch’s gang, you heard his name more and more. You let yourself sink into the water, your eyes clenched shut as warm water covered your face. You stayed there longer that you should have, when you finally sat up, you were nearly gasping for air.

You got out few minutes later, you were tired, dressing yourself halfway before collapsing into bed.

You didn’t dream that night, your mind either too tired or too pained to show you your usual fantasies.

——-

Arthur swore he wouldn’t look for you, he swore it to you and to himself that he’d let you be free. But it seemed unavoidable now. Dutch had settled the gang in a large clearing in Nevada, the gang was mostly hidden by a small chain of mountains, and there was a streak of towns and settlements all within a couple dozen miles from each other.

There weren’t many cities in Nevada, it was dry and damn near impossible to farm out here if you didn’t know what you were doing, and if that wasn’t enough, the heat would be.

You were out there somewhere.

Dealing with the heat, with the drought, and with the shitty crops. And you still didn’t go back home. He’s been to your home. He's gone back dozens of times, you were never there, whatever you wanted to do, whatever changes you made, you succeded. He was happy for you, you were happy, God he hoped you were happy- he doesn't know what he'd do if he found out you weren't. If you were somewhere miserable and sulking, all this time, when you could have been with him.

He pushed those thoughts back- you were happy, you had to be.

When Arthur mentioned he was riding into the nearest town, he got a few odd looks. It wasn't a secret that you'd run off to Nevada, not even close. Most didn't say much, maybe a quick good luck, or a request for something from town. Some didn't say anything, but Dutch did. Dutch warned him, warned him about you and how some changes weren't good, and if Arthur did see you that he needed to be careful.

Arthur wasn't one to ignore advice, and he didn't ignore it, he thought about it as he road through the desert lands of Nevada, but whatever changes you made, he could handle it. He wasn't a child, he didn't need have his hand held. There wasn't even a guarantee that you'd been in this town, or the next one. So for all he knew he'd never have to face you're changes.

The town was bustling with life. The people went about their business. The town was…normal. Small, busy, and normal. He road in unbothered, no one here seemed to care enough to even look when the man when he trotted by.

Hitching his horse to a sturdy pole he set off to one of the small shops nearby, after picking up some extra oat cakes and apples for the horse, he tried to find the sheriff’s office, only to find that this town didn't have one after asking a mildly disheveled yet nicely dressed man for directions, no government either. The town was its own unit outside of the occasional trading.

“Danny Hikman used to be the law here, well, not really, but he kept people on the right track. Encouraged them to do right- and get guns, he used to run a bar a little down the way, gave it to his nephew or something-” the man said, laughing slightly.

“‘ bar any good?” he asked, only half listening to the man.

“The best, fresh food, cold whiskey- bartenders a good guy too, won't hesitate to throw your ass out though.”

“I’ll bet- which way’s that bar, again?”

———

You started serving earlier than usual today, mostly so you could close earlier without complaint. The familiar chime of the bell above the door called your attention for a less than a second, you recognized Johnny, then looked back down at the glasses you were cleaning.

“Changing your schedule on me, Johnny? I thought you were a Wednesday man?”

He let out a short laugh, sitting in the spot directly in front of you, “just showing a friend around.”

“You’re friends are all alcoholics, I doubt they need help finding a bar.”

“Hey now, I’ve got a new friend. Mr. Uhh-“

“Arthur.”

You felt like you’d just jumped out of your skin, the glass in your hand clattered against the floor, ever so sturdy. Landing thankful one piece. Staring at the man in front of you, standing just behind Johnny, Arthur Morgan, right there, looking just the way he did when he left, just the way you remember him.

He glanced at Johnny, then back at you- it felt like he looked right through you. Looking at you with none of the love or adoration from before. Because he loved d/n, not y/n. Y/n was just a bartender to him, an awful one who apparently couldn’t even hold a damn glass.

Your heart felt like it was collapsing in on itself, your chest was tight and you could feel your throat start to close as tears weld in your eyes. Quickly, you broke eye contact with Arthur, ducking down under the bar to grab the glass, using the sleeves of your shirt to wipe the forming tears in your eyes before standing up.

“Sorry boys,” you muttered, “you’re, uh, friend startled me is all.”

Taking off his hat and setting down on the counter, Arthur took a seat on one of the stools.

“Sorry, your friend here talked you up quite a bit, had to see for myself if what he said was true.”

You let out a laugh, forced and almost nervous, setting the glass down with the rest of the dirty glasses, you said, “Trust me, it’s true, what you looking for Mr. Arthur?”

“Just Arthur, and whiskey, thanks.”

You nodded to the man before heading to the storage room, you’d hate to admit it, but you wanted to run, straight passed the storage room and out the back door. But that would make Arthur think something was wrong, and yes, something was wrong, but he didn’t need to know that. He didn’t recognize you, and that was okay, it was supposed to be okay, you left so you wouldn’t be recognized, you left to start over. But he’s out there, and you were hiding in the storage room so you wouldn’t have to face him. You gave yourself a moment, for your throat to release and for your heart to stop pounding and aching. Only the pounding stopped. You needed to work, you couldn’t let them know anything was wrong.

Grabbing a bit of higher quality whiskey out of the icebox, feeling the frosty glass sting your hand as you carried it out of the storage room. Without looking up at the man you grabbed one of the clean glasses and poured him about half a glass. You remember Arthur complaining about it once, only getting serviced the tiniest amount of alcohol, no matter the price. Capping the bottle you gave a short wordless nod before setting it under the counter. Arthur grabbed the glass, before he could speak you were on the other side of the bar, serving somebody else.

Johnny didn’t stay long, he had other things to do on a Thursday afternoon, but Arthur stayed, you poured him a couple more glasses before cutting him off, at least from your expensive whiskey.

“How much do I owe you?” He ask, his speech a bit slurred as he sat unsteadily in his seat.

“Nothing, I’ll put it on Johnny’s tab, come Wednesday he won’t notice it.”

“Thank you kindly-“

“Y/n-“

“Thank you, y/n.”

“You have a good night Mr. Morgan.”

You crawled into bed that night, still in your day clothes, feeling like your heart had been torn out of your chest. And you cried, you cried until the sun came up, until your body couldn't cry anymore and every sound you made was a rough heaving sob. And when you had no more energy left to sob, you stared at your open window, watching the sunrise, listening to the people.

You were supposed to open today, unlocking the door and flipping the sign, staring out the window, at the people, at Mrs. Matthews waiting across the street for you to open your doors.

You flipped the sign back, you stated at the word “OPEN” facing you, then at Mrs. Matthews's face fell as the word “CLOSED” faced her.

————

Sitting on his cot, journal on his lap, Arthur stared at the picture he drew. It wasn't perfect, considering he was half drunk when he drew it, but it was something. The bartender from last night. He was…something. A nervous something. Arthur felt bad for him when he dropped the glass, then he just…stared at him, long enough for Arthur to get a spark of familiarity when he saw his face. Arthur tried to get his attention as the night went on, ordering drinks, asking questions, trying to get the man to stay close, be he'd walk away the moment he'd answered or served him.

He wasn't like that with other patrons, he laughed, he joked- then he kicked everyone out.

He heard him say he was closing early, but let him stay until he finished his last drink. Arthur thought about the name he'd given. Y/n.

“I see you're drawing d/n again, did you catch her in town?”

Looking up he saw Tilly standing next to him with a kind smile on her face.

“No, it's not d/n, some bartender in town, he looks so familiar.”

Tilly hummed, sitting on the cot with Arthur and taking the book out of his lap. She flipped through the pages quickly before finding a drawing of d/n, with your final letter stuck right next to it.

“Needs a change, huh? Maybe she skipped town and became a bartender, you never know.”

“A bartender and a man?”

“You never know Arthur. Maybe that's why she left, couldn't make a change like that where people know you. They would've hunted her down.”

“Tilly..”

“Maybe you should talk to the bartender, if it's not her then it's not her, but if it is, are you really going to miss seeing her again because you won't take a chance?”

Handing the journal back to him she said, “Just think about it, at least.” Then she walked away.

————

You heard the slam of the front door behind you as you sat the freshly cleaned glasses on the rack. If you were going to sulk and lock yourself in the bar then you were going to clean while you did it.

“We’re closed..” you said, your tone not exactly customer friendly.

You had a list of things you needed to do, you've already mopped the floor, scrubbed the tables and walls, washed every glass, plate, and utensil, did your laundry, scrubbed your tub, cleaned your room-

“D/n..?”

You paused, then glanced over your shoulder. You knew it was him, you already knew, you knew his voice too well to ever mistake it. Taking a breath, you hands shaking and heart pounding, you turned around.

“Arthur, I-” you breathed out, but you didn't know what to say. “How did you-”

“Lucky guess..”

Taking slow steps towards the bar, you heard him sigh.

“Are you…okay?” he asked, unsure.

You nodded, “Yeah, yeah I'm okay.”

“We should talk-”

“Yes, we should-”

You stepped from behind the counter, still unsure as to what could happen next. Then, without warning, you were pulled into a tight hug, Arthurs's body practically enveloping yours. You stood there, holding him as tightly as you could until your arms started to burn from the strain.

You didn't know what to say, or how to explain what happened, the realization you went through while he was gone, why you left.

When you pulled away you still didn’t know what to say, you opened your mouth to talk but no words came out. You kept your face glued to the ground for a long moment.

“You look different, I didn’t recognize you yesterday..”

You pulled out one of the stools.

“I told you I needed change.”

He pulled another out beside you.

“I know, I just don’t know what I was expecting.”

“This must be so confusing.”

“It is, but I’m betting it was more confusing for you that it could be for anybody else.”

Leaning on the counter, you looked up at him.

“I guess so. In my home town I figured that they’d be a little more angry than confused so I left..” you stopped, taking a breath, “I didn’t want to leave you, Arthur.”

Arthur sat there silently, his eyes turned towards the counter.

You couldn’t help but stare, you haven’t seen him in so long, his eyebrows were slightly scrunched downward, his pretty blue eyes focused on nothing as his mind raced. His fingers tapped against the counter every few seconds. You tried not to let that anxious feeling in your chest build, but the longer he was silent, the harder it got to push down.

“You said you aren't happy anymore..”

You blinked.

“I wasn't.”

“How about now? Are you happy now?”

“I'm.. I have more good days than I did before, so…yeah, I'm happy.”

He stayed silent for another moment. You figured he was just trying to find his words.

Then, when he did speak,

“I still love you.”

You sighed, “I still love you, too, Arthur.”

Another long silence passed. It was odd, you've dreamed of seeing him again, all the damn time. And now that he's here you didn't know what to say. Your relationship, how ever strong it was before, was dying. Even though you loved him and he loved you.

Arthur was having similar thoughts, he didn't care how much you changed, he wanted you to be happy. That's all he wanted for you. But he wants to be with you, he doesn't care that your a man, it doesn't matter to him, he doesn't think it's ever mattered. He's never thought too hard about it. But now, with you sitting there looking the way you did. Looking so different, so muchlike yourself, so much more at peace even though you were being confronted, he thought, ‘yeah, I could be with a man.’

Before he could, you took a chance.

“How long you thinking of staying in town for, Arthur?”

———-

You laughed, he missed your laugh.

“You can't just go around taking people's clothes off!”

“I needed clothes and they were so drunk they wouldn't miss them!” you argued.

“How have you not been caught yet?”

“I bought new clothes!”

“Why couldn't you do that first?”

“I needed to avoid suspicion.”

“Avoid suspicious by stealing clothes..”

You laughed again.

You and Arthur had found your way upstairs, both of you sat on the floor, leaning back against the wall. He asked you how you ended up here, it was funny, explaining to Arthur, a known outlaw, the various ways you broke the law, and having him lecture you.

“I will not take this from an outlaw!”

“You're an outlaw too, now, Clothes Bandit.”

“Oh that's awful, why couldn't I get something good?”

“‘Good’ like what?”

“I don't know, you're better at naming things than I am.”

He looked over at you a small smile on his face.

“Really now, Mr. Y/n, how’d you come up with that anyways?”

“Well I found a baby naming book.”

He sat up, giving you a look.

“Are you serious?”

You looked at him for a second, a stren expression on your face, then slowly a smile broke out on your face.

“You're an ass.”

“You really think I got Y/n for a baby naming book?”

“You could have!”

“But I didn't-”

Eventually, after showing him your room and the various aspects of your new life that you adored (yes, the tub too), you headed back down to the bar, only to see Daniel, one of Johnny’s friends, behind the bar serving himself.

“Daniel, I'm going to kill you, how many drinks have you had?” you said, rushing over to him, snatching both the glass and bottle from his hand.

“One-” you gave him a look, he caved quickly with a sigh, “five.”

“Goddamnit.”

“‘M sorry, you are closed, your never closed!”

“I wouldn't be serving drinks this early anyways!”

He laughed, walking around to the other side of the bar, “I'm special though right? Won't get shot or banned or nothing?” he practically pleaded, but formed it like a question.

“No, you're not banned, but you still need to leave.”

He sighed, dragging himself out the door.

Sighing yourself, you turned to Arthur, “See what I have to deal with?”

“‘Seems like a handful.”

“Daniel is harmless, he's just an alcoholic.”

“Never met a harmless alcoholic.”

“He's harmless now, he doesn't want to risk almost getting shot again.”

Arthur laughed, sitting at the bar, just like had yesterday, “Who shot at him?”

You stared at him for a moment.

“You?”

“I gave him plenty of warning, see that hole in the wall that there—” you pointed to the very back wall of the tavern, between two tables was a loosely patched hole, “- warning shot, missed him by an inch.”

“Who the hell taught you how to shoot?”

“I taught myself, maybe I could teach you sometime.”

“Very funny, y/n, I wouldn't mind seeing you shoot sometime though.”

“There's a range in the next town, I could take you there sometime.”

The two of you talked until the sun had fully set and the town had gone quiet. The bar made you feel more open somehow, it always did. Arthur helped too, you guess. You missed him, you missed being like this, so normal with him. You were surprised his quickly things settled back in place, like neither of you had ever left. It was clear that you were different, but Arthur seemed to accept this change flawlessly. He never messed up, seemingly having ingrained every aspect of your new life into his mind.

Y/n, Mr.Y/n, Sir, he even called you handsome, you swear you nearly fell over when he did.

By midnight, you both were tired, and despite what he planned before, which was bringing you- if it was you, back to camp with him. But that plan never fell through, you ended up pulling him into the bathroom with you. You thought you'd be uncomfortable at first, but you figured if he was going to be back in your life you should get used to him seeing you naked again. But it wasn't, it was calm, comforting. You were thankful for your massive bath, the both of you fit well, you sat behind him, his hat tossed in on top of the heap of clothes you two had left, you ran your fingers through his hair, water from your hands running down his face. He hummed in contempt. He didn't speak much at first, simply enjoying you and your presence. It wasn't until the water had begun to cool and the cold air of the Nevada night started to seep in did he pressed himself closer to you, muttering something quietly.

It wasn't until you got out, long after the water cooled, we're you able to figure out what he was saying. You had some clothes you figured might fit Arthur, something you'd bought impulsively without actually checking to see if you could fit it.

“You have…nice arms-” he muttered.

You were pulling your pants up over your waist when he spoke, you turned to look at him, one hand holding your unbuttoned pants up, you asked, “Arthur, are you drunk?”

“No, no I'm just…real tired.”

“Didn't get much sleep?”

“I didn't sleep, I kept thinking of you.”

“When was the last time you slept?”

He groaned, “Tuesday, I was on watch Wednesday, I was pre occupied by your ass on Thursday, and now here we are.”

“Fucking Christ, go to sleep.”

“I want to look at you, I missed you-”

“I'll be here in the morning Arthur.”

He didn't respond for a long moment, you figured he dozed off finally, until you decided to switch shirts, shoving the one you had on into your drawer and pulling out another.

“You have a nice back too-”

“Good night, Arthur.”

Your night ended with you curling up around Arthur, your arms nearly wrapped completely around him. You didn't dream again tonight, your usual fantasies of seeing Arthur were deemed useless now and we're thrown out with the rest of today's mental trash.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for inviting my cousin to an LGBT meet up?

Cw: mentions of suicide and transphobia

I (18M) am a trans man and my cousin N (21F) is a lesbian who is very masc presenting. We're the only queer cousins in the family (at least in our generation) so weve always been good friends and shes been one of the biggest supporters of my transition, defended me from bigoted family members and always corrected family when they used my deadname/old pronouns. I lowkey hoped she would come out as a trans man or nonbinary as well. We dress in the same style which makes it so when were hanging out together one of us is gonna get misgendered since people asume both of us are trans men or masc girls. When N is the one being misgendered she doesnt bother fighting it since its more trouble than its worth but looking back i think it really annoyed her.

Earlier this year N was severely struggling with her mental health. I apologize for the wording i may have since i dont know the proper terminology for this stuff or any specific disorder diagnosis she may have (other than autism). She was having some sort of manic or depressive episode. She was dead set on pushing people away and making them hate her so she could take her own life without regrets.

I visited N once to give her my support during a struggling time but i stupidly told her there was nothing she could say that would push me away. She told me not to test her but i kept pushing it and i admit what happened next was my fault. She told me in a very cold voice that she was a terf, though that she didnt want me dead but that "we" (im guessing she meant trans ppl) made it so much harder for her to exist(???????). I didnt let her keep talking just and left her room, said my goodbyes to her family and just cried while driving home.

Im still not sure if she meant it or if it was part of her mental episode and just a way for her to hurt me and push me away. On one hand ig it explains some of her behavior? N sometimes complained when she got asked for her pronouns or being misgendered like I mentioned before. On the other hand, I gen do not believe she has been a terf all along esp with how supportive shes been of me. If she was a terf youd think she would try to subtly talk me out of it, but that has never happened. My friends have nicknamed her schrodinger's terf lol

Anyway, i went no contact with N for a few months for my own wellbeing. During this time i heard that she tried to kill herself a few times, which got her into a mental hospital. She was given higher doses of meds and seems to be doing way better.

We had a family reunion this week and i decided to approach her. N seemed a little hesitant to talk to me but stayed polite. I tried testing her and talked about the effects T has been having on me but she acted like she always had and congratulated me and even complimented me on how deep my voice has gotten. I wasnt satisfied cause i wanted an apology for what she had said to me so i pushed it more. She did end up apologzing but it was a very surface level apology. At this point i didnt want to keep pushing in case it set her off again so i just took her apology (plus i wanted my best cousin back) and spent the rest of the day hanging out with her.

On the way home my mom said she was happy me and N had made up and that i should invite her to the lgbt club meetings Ive been going to this year. It seemed like a good idea to me, she lost a few friends during her episode and she could make more queer friends here. If N is trans and just in denial it could help her get the resources she needs to feel comfortable coning out. If N IS a terf maybe having more positive interactions with trans ppl could change her mind on it. Overall i thought it would be a win for her.

I brought it up to my friends and some of them blew up at me. Their argument was that itd be exposing the other trans ppl in the group to a terf and putting them in danger. I truly hadnt considered this angle so im kinda conflicted now. She had never felt like an unsafe person before and now that her episode is over she feels normal again. Even if she is a terf i dont think she could actually cause harm? I want N to get better but i dont want to put my trans friends at risk.

So tumblr, WIBTA for inviting N to my lgbt meet up?

What are these acronyms?

[babydin]

You're My Person

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[blackjackkent]

Since Nocturne says she'll bail after one day, I guess we might as well exhaust all her dialogue now before moving on. Quick look around the room first - this seems to have been a dormitory for some of the adepts.

Nocturne's journal is next to one of the beds.

Aw. This is pretty upsetting to read about but does confirm a lot of what we'd already heard and/or suspected about Shadowheart's experiences here. The mission to get the prism was not the first time Shadowheart's memories had been erased; it happened repeatedly, and Nocturne was with her every time to help her recover. It's nice to hear that she had some sort of friend in this terrible place at least.

I also love the character detailing here, especially when combined with what I know from Delmak's playthrough. Over on that PT (where Delmak is romancing her), I had him pick up the noblestalk and give it to her, and she has a memory flashback from eating it - of having a friend named Rennald who was a young tiefling boy with purple hair and short horns, as Nocturne has. Nocturne is a trans woman, and it sounds like Shadowheart was a stalwart supporter of her, helping her shed her deadname and making sure no one bullied her. <3

Other things in the room include a log of interrogation/torture of a githyanki prisoner, which was how Viconia learned about the prism, and a bit of journaling from Viconia herself:

Again, this pretty much just echoes and deepens on what we already knew. One slightly interesting point, at least headcanonically - this mentions Suldanessalar, the ending location of Baldur's Gate 2, and implies that Viconia was there. In this particular worldstate, where Caden had nothing to do with her, this lends interesting implications about the possibility that she might have been there anyway for her own reasons.

It also implies from the way it's phrased that both the formation and self-destruction of her previous cloister at Waterdeep took place at the same general time as Baldur's Gate 2. This doesn't entirely make sense to me and I suspect isn't what the writers were actually intending to imply, but it could also be potentially interesting. XD

An unmarked bookshelf contains books about Shadowheart herself.

"These are all about *me*..." Shadowheart whispers, aghast. "Forty years of my life, documented like I was some sort of specimen..."

Even more interestingly, a key from Viconia's body opens a locked chest on a nearby table. In it are a few minor jewelry items and a key to a Counting House safety deposit box (which of course we'll go open later).

...Huh. I am not sure if there's a reference here that I'm missing, or if this is just continued reference to the possibility of Viconia having been at the battle of Suldanessalar, either with the BG2 Bhaalspawn or otherwise. Interesting.

Let's go have another chat with Nocturne. She'll only offer to trade with Hector, but if we talk to her as Shadowheart we get a controlled dialogue - one of the few times this has happened with the non-avatar character (the only other one I can recall is Wyll's argument with Mizora after the coronation).

"I can still scarcely believe it. You've returned, and the Mother Superior is gone... So much can change, so quickly..."

"There's much I still can't remember..." Shadowheart says. "Can you share anything with me? From when we were young?"

Nocturne smiles. "Well, you had a pet mouse for a while. It was against the rules, of course. You used to hide him under your robes and feed him from your rations."

Well, that's adorable af.

"Did he have a name?" Shadowheart asks.

"Nibbles," Nocturne says with a soft laugh. "I suggested Brie, but you were having none of it." A pause; the smile fades. "She caught you with him. Forced you to get rid of him... in front of everyone to make an example. You always loved animals, but you never let yourself get too close after that." Her gaze flicks away. "I'm sorry. Not the sort of thing you want to hear, I'm sure."

It isn't, really. Hector can see Shadowheart's head snap back a little as if she has taken a punch to the gut.

"I don't suppose there are any pleasant memories you could share?" she asks hollowly.

Nocturne considers. "Well... you know that little scar on your elbow?"

Shadowheart blinks, so startled that for a moment she forgets to be wary. "You know about that? It's barely the size of a pea."

Nocturne grins. "I was there when you picked that up. It was years ago, when we were initiates. Some of the others were intent on tormenting us... until you showed them the error of their ways. I think it was six against two, and most of them were bigger than us, to boot. But you saw them off, all of them. There were some bruised lips and black eyes in the mess hall that night. From then on, they left us alone. Or at least they bothered us less."

Behind Shadowheart, Jaheira makes a soft snorting noise; Hector glances sideways at her and sees that she's smiling. Karlach's grinning too; all of them are feeling a surge of pride at hearing this. Even in this dark, terrible place, that seed of good was in Shadowheart - the urge to defend a friend, to care for a helpless animal.

Selune's light was with you, always, Hector thinks. Even if you didn't know it. Even if you do not choose to follow her now. She is with you still...

"What about the scar?" Shadowheart asks curiously.

"A collision between your elbow and the teeth of a girl called Buddug," Nocturne says dryly. "She came away from it worse than you." She cocks her head. "She was on the same mission as you. I suppose she won't be coming back." A pause. "In any case, the Mother Superior soon broke up the fighting, though she didn't punish us. In fact, I saw her smiling. I think she was proud of you."

Hector's smile flickers. Not for the same reasons as we are, certainly, he thinks coolly. I suppose even a broken clock is right twice a day.

"Anything else?" Shadowheart asks.

Nocturne shrugs, rubs the back of her neck sheepishly. "Just small things, silly things. The sort you'd scarcely recall even if your memories were left intact. You had a little hiding place that you went to when you needed to get away. You brought me there sometimes. We'd talk, play, read, do each other's hair..."

It's a touching image, especially laid against the absolute misery that clearly seemed to imbue most of the days here. "A hiding place?" Shadowheart asks. "Where is it?"

"Hidden at the back of the storage area. Luckily enough, as quartermaster, I was able to keep it hidden back there," Nocturne answers. "It should be-- well, if not how you remember it, exactly as you left it."

Definitely something to check out... but there's another question lingering. Shadowheart's lips twitch in a flash of muted amusement. "From what you said before, you're the one responsible for my hair?"

"The plait and fringe?" The tiefling grins crookedly. "Yes. On your instructions, of course. You were very intent on a bold look, I think you said. My hands were cramped by the time I finished, but you were very pleased." She draws her head back to look Shadowheart up and down. "I like the new look as well, though. You always did like a dramatic touch."

Shadowheart hesitates. It's clear she wants to say more but isn't sure how it will be received - she once knew this woman so well and yet there is a blankness in the spaces where she should be. But the kindness shown even in this tiny scrap of conversation shows that Nocturne, like Shadowheart, belongs somewhere beyond these shadowy halls. [ENEMY OF SHAR] "Are you just going to remain here?" she finally asks quietly. "There's no need. Viconia is gone."

Nocturne hesitates, forty years of history with Shadowheart warring with an equal forty years of seclusion and fear. "Remains to be seen," she says carefully. "This place is all I've ever known. In time, perhaps I'll venture out there, see what I've been missing. But for now... old habits die hard."

[hammeragainstbirds]

[There is a video attatched, do you want to watch it?]

//This is so long but I swear it's not that bad. In the tags will be what you need to know after this even if you don't read it so everything else makes sense.

//I'll actually rewrite the ooc paragraph into several shorter ones so it's easier to read.

//Apple's friends don't react in the best way possible, as they don't know what is going on. This is made worst because Apple was already distressed.

//Apple isn't out to their friends, so they'll only use he/him to refer to her. He does use that pronoun, so it's not misgendering, but don't expect them to use anything else. Also, it's name will be written [Apple], as that's the one they use online, not her actual name. It's not deadnaming, but I understand that it can look as if I was censoring a deadname.

//There is a mention of the current state of Apple's transformation. Specifically, the start of the face changing.

//Also, first and probably last time a character uses a swear word (or whatever those are called in english, I think it's that) in one of my post. I feel like that friend would use them, but I don't like writing them.

[The video is taken from around the height of Apple's head, so it's impossible to see everyone else's faces. Apple can be seen next to the window, trying to check where they would land. Steps can be heard from the other side of the room as other three people enter it. The room is dark, except for the small amount of light entering though the window.]

"What the... what is that?"

[Apple is covering its face and making a ball in the floor, ashamed of how she looks like. One of his friends tries to get closer, but Sharp the pawniard jumps to his trainer's rescue. He positions himself between Apple and the rest, ready to fight.]

"Sharp? What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with [Apple]? Where is he, anyway?"

"Yeah and, more importantly, how did that... tinkaton? get here?"

[[Blue] hits [Pink] with her elbow while looking at him with a disapproving face.]

"What? It was a joke! I'm obviously looking for him!"

"Get out of here."

"[Apple]? Where are you?"

"Leave me alone, okay? I don't want you to see me right now."

[[Red] tries to get close to Apple, suspecting that their voice comes from that part of the room. Sharp, feeling his owners distress, does the only thing he can think of.]

"What the fuck Sharp? Why did you do that? Agh, it hurts a lot! Just let me get there already!"

[[Red] holds his leg with a pained expression while looking at Sharp. [Blue] throws a pokeball, freeing the Skeledirge inside. The pokemon uses its tail to move Sharp out of the way and keep him there.]

"No! Leave him alone! He can't get hurt. I- I didn't hurt him, you can't do it. P- please, don't do anything. Just get out of here!"

[Apple says this while crying. He looks at Sharp, hoping he's fine. That allows both the camera and her friends to see their new face. It's still very similar to the face it had before this began, but it is pink and is starting to change to look more tinkaton-like. It can be noticed mostly in the eyes, which are starting to get taller and thinner. The three of them flinch when seeing this.]

"Is that... Wha- what happened to you?"

"Yeah, you look terrible! Is that your excuse to let us study by ourselves?"

"I told you to leave me alone!"

[The camera seems to fall and look to the ceiling for a moment, before it repositions itself. Both pokemon appear to be fine, but the three humans seem to have been launched against the wall. Some glowing particles can be seen floating around in the room, quickly disappearing. Apple gets to where Sharp is as fast as she can without showing themself more than necessary and hugs him.]

"You are okay, everything is okay. I'm here to help you, I promise. I- the instincts won't win, I'll protect you."

[Apple is holding the hammer, which is longer now. The new addition is a different color to the metals used before. He runs towards the window and jumps, the camera following behind. Its landing is good enough, so they can start running towards the nearby forest almost immediately, Sharp still in his arms.]

[End of the video.]

//Not fully convinced with some parts, but probably good enough. I don't know if I should tag this anything specific, but the warning in the beginning should work for that.

[annab-nana]

wahh anna!!! can i request steve x transmale reader x eddie (poly if that's okay!) with the hurt/comfort prompt "my world is just falling apart.  it’s like everything is just crumbling around me.  i don’t know what to do.  i just want it to stop"? maybe the reader got deadnamed or misgendered and it was the last straw please 🥺 i love your work so much, keep it up! 💙

- 🍁

yes! here you go baby :)

warnings: mentions of a grandmother with dementia, past of not being accepted, season four didn't happen, being stressed, not proofread

a/n: i don't know anything about being trans so if some of this is incorrect, then please let me know and i will gladly change it

❀ masterlist ❀

it had been a tough week for you. school was hell. work was even worse. and to top it all off, you got a call from your grandmother who deadnamed you. you couldn't blame her. she had dementia so things were slowly slipping from her, but it still didn't make the deep feeling in your chest any better.

being trans in the '80s is no mean feat. in this time, you would be labeled with gender identity disorder and sent to a psychiatric hospital to be 'cured'. your hometown—or any town for that matter—would never accept you for who you were. that's why as you transitioned, your mom homeschooled you until you were passing enough as a male. then, she moved you two across the country to hawkins, indiana, and enrolled you in public school there. if anything went awry, she would pull you out and go back to homeschooling.

thankfully, no one suspected that you ever were a girl physically before. they knew you as who you were now and loved you. you made the greatest friends: steve, eddie, and robin, all of who you felt comfortable telling your past with. being queer in this day and age wasn't an easy thing to be either, so they understood some of your struggles and accepted you with open arms.

steve and eddie flirted all the time with each other and with you, leaving you to wonder if they were together or if they both liked you. after one drunk night at steve's with eddie, the idea came up. what if you all dated each other? and that is how it started.

now, you and steve were in college and eddie was pursuing his dream of becoming a rockstar. you all shared an apartment with your own separate rooms for your own things, but most nights, you all piled in either your room or steve's—eddie's was always far too messy.

both boys were home when you walked through the door and you weren't sure if you were happy or not about it. you loved them with all your heart, but after the day you had, you just wanted to go to your room and wallow in your own self-pity alone. you made it in a few steps before steve's voice sounded throughout the apartment.

"baby, 'you home?" he called from the kitchen. you walked to the doorway and shot him a weak smile, one he saw straight through and he stopped his actions to check on you. "what's wrong?"

that question almost always broke the dam as it did right then. steve was quick to wrap his arms around you while eddie got up from his spot on the couch to guide you both back toward it. steve was to your left and eddie on your right, both of them comforting you in their own ways.

"sweetheart," eddie spoke up softly, "talk to us."

"it's just- my world is just falling apart. it’s like everything is just crumbling around me. i don’t know what to do. i just want it to stop. i want a break. everything is too much right now," you explained, wiping your tears as you went.

"like school and stuff?" steve inquired. he knew you had a challenging caseload this semester, but you had been taking it like a champ so far. there were only three more weeks left, but it was bound to get to you at some point.

"yeah, and work. some days are good, but today wasn't. and then my grandma called and she called me by my old name and i feel like i'm back at square one, you know? a little girl who doesn't feel right in their own skin. confused and hurting."

"but you're not, you know that right?" steve started and eddie picked up where he left off.

"you're our wonderful boy. you are smart as a whip and stronger than anyone we've ever known. you can't let a bad day drag you down or set you back, baby."

you let your head rest on eddie's shoulder while steve slipped his hand into yours.

"we're always here for you, y/n," steve told you before he pressed a kiss to your cheek at the same time as eddie kissing your temple. eddie nodded along to steve's words before adding, "you've got us forever."

remember to support writers & reblog :)

turn on notifications for @annab-library to be notified when i post something new!

[the-era-of-shadow]

Innate Affiliation

Written by Ash Rose Red

Cover Art by Ash Rose Red

Chapter 5: The Rough Road to Recovery

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS: Swearing, mention of a dismembered body part

[Previous]

[Next]

As Amy, Tsunami, Whisper, Big and Froggy made their way back to Ms.Vanilla's home, they could just ever so slightly hear the sounds of a great commotion going on from within. The rest of the Freedom Fighters seemed to congregate in and around the cabin, talking amongst themselves as they waited for the five of them to arrive. 

Amy stared off into one of the house's windows, and saw that Sonic, Tails and Sally were having a discussion, but she also noticed that Sonic was wearing his glasses.

Sonic doesn't always wear his glasses, in fact, as of recently, he usually doesn't. But when he does, Amy has noticed that he seems to almost transform into a completely different person. He's nicer, he's more soft-spoken, more weird and nerdy. To be completely honest with herself, Amy liked Sonic more when he wore his glasses. But Amy wasn't sure that such would still apply after everything that had happened the week before.

Regardless, she entered the cabin.

As she expected, Sally approached Amy as soon as the two's gazes met, requesting that Amy join her and the others in their discussion. Amy was quite frankly tired of hearing anything coming from Sonic's mouth, and felt a bit betrayed by how Tails decided to buddy up with him rather than her for today's vacation. Deep down, Amy just wanted to have a nice, calming day with her friends, whether they be old or new to her.

Regardless, she agreed to Sally's request.

When Amy and Sally arrived at the room where the discussion was to be held, Amy saw that Tails and Sonic seemed to be rather melancholic; this discussion, certainly, was going to be a serious one. While it wasn't villainous aliens disguising as her friends to lure her into their lair, this was still most definitely going to be a mood killer, an early end to her good day.

Regardless, she entered the room, and sat down in one of the chairs within.

"Amy..." A voice of sympathy and regret came from Sonic's mouth.

"Are you finally apologizing for lying to me all these years?" Amy asked bluntly.

"Y-yes, and also-" Amy was stunned, astonished, even.

"Wow! Those glasses really do make you a better person!" She exclaimed.

"That's... uh... What we wanted to talk about, actually..." Tails interjected, which confused Amy.

"What are you talking about?" Amy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"There's been something... else... that Sonic has been hiding from you-" Sally said, causing Amy to flair up in anger.

"OH OF COURSE HE FUCKING HAS! WHY AM I EVEN SURPRISED?!" She yelled, looking like she was ready to kill Sonic right then and there as she shot up from her seat, but Tails took hold of her by the shoulders in order to try and prevent anything of that sort from occurring.

"It's not about you this time, i-it's something about... them..." They clarified, which only made Amy angrier.

"TAILS YOU CAN'T MAKE THIS BIG OF A FUCKING DEAL OVER SONIC CHANGING THEIR DAMN PRONOUNS-!!" She shouted.

"I-I... Well, Sonic did change pronouns, but that's not what I'm talking about!" Tails tried to explain, feeling bad that they had to raise their voice.

"Th-then what the hell IS this about, Tails-??" Amy questioned sternly.

"WE'RE A FUCKING SYSTEM, OKAY??" Sonic suddenly shouted, eyes full of tears, and seemingly rather pissed off.

"Wh... What...?" Amy asked, startled and confused.

"... I-I'm so sorry, I swear to Chaos I thought I had xem under control now, they weren't supposed to be able to yell at Amy like that-" 

"It's alright Nicky, I know you've been away for a while..." Tails assured them quietly.

"N-Nicky?? I... I thought that was your deadname??" Amy questioned, now more concerned than angry. 

"Amy... you don't know what "being a system" means, do you?" Sally asked sympathetically.

"No??? I... I don't understand any part of what's going on here???" Amy hastily responded.

"Well, in that case... Tails? Would you do the honors?"

"Of course, Sal. I told you, so I don't see why I shouldn't be the one to explain the situation to Amy as well!" Tails accepted with a tired, but genuine smile.

From there, Tails gently explained to Amy that Sonic/Nicky have a complex dissociative disorder, meaning that they had experienced repeated trauma throughout their early childhood, which resulted in a singular identity being unable to be formed. The system, that being the term for the alternate identities, or alters for short, within the body as a whole, isn't just Sonic and Nicky, as Tails clarified. It's just that those two are the two hosts of the system, or the alters who are present the most.

"The reason why you notice a difference between when they wear glasses versus when they don't is because it is, in a sense, a physical marker of who's present. Nicky prefers to wear glasses, while Sonic prefers contacts." Sally added.

"Our system name is "Genesis Overdrive", but I'm sure you can just ask who's in front and they'll just tell ya," Nicky interjected.

"... "In front"?" Amy questioned.

"Oh, sorry! That's just a more simplified way of saying that a certain alter is present at the given moment." Nicky answered awkwardly.

"So... Since we have that out of the way..." Amy said just as awkwardly, now feeling bad for blowing up in the way that she did.

"You're wondering what Sonic's new pronouns are, aren't you?" Tails assumed, to which Amy nodded, "Knew it! Anyway... you see, Nicky told me that Sonic hadn't really been... "grooving" with the he/him, and Nicky guessed that Sonic was just going with the he/him because of Nicky -" 

"My pronouns are he/they, by the way!" Nicky interrupted suddenly, feeling bad for the interruption right after, "S-sorry, I got excited..."

"It's fine, really!" Tails assured, "Anyway, as I was saying, Sonic felt like experimenting with their pronouns, and decided to start going by they/them and the neopronouns xe/xem to see how those felt!" 

"Ah! Well, thanks for letting me know. Even if I kinda hate them at the moment, I still want to gender them correctly!" Amy remarked with a smile.

"Uhm, Mr... Nicky, can I ask you -" Tsunami suddenly appeared from behind Amy, spooking Nicky practically out of his seat.

"Oh good Chaos! Sorry about that, Nicky!" Amy quickly apologized, "This is Tsunami, my mother. Did Sonic not tell you about her?" 

"Sonic... didn't really tell me about much of the stuff that happened recently, just that you... chucked us out a window?" 

"Oh... yeah, sorry about that, too! I wouldn't have done that if I knew it wasn't just Sonic in there!" 

".... What did Sonic do this time?" Nicky asked, sounding exasperated.

"Well, it's a looooong story, really..." Amy warned, sitting back down in her chair. Tails and Sally both rolled their eyes, both of them having taken part in this song and dance before. Nicky didn't mind that, however, and thus, Amy once again retold the past week's events - as if her life was stuck in some sort of terrible cycle of events.

"After Amy's done, may I ask you... why is it that this sort of thing happens?" Tsunami inquired of Nicky.

—------------------------------------------------------

Shadow paced about the floating temple grounds, not sure what they should do, now that it was finished with their Hi-Bloosiæne studies for the day, and that its tussle with Dr. Ivo Robotnik had passed as well. Looking down for just a moment, Shadow noticed something on the temple's floor that hadn't been there before.

"The Doctor's ear that Mom sliced off?" It muttered to themself as they picked the ear up, "Well, I mean, it did have to land somewhere, I suppose..." 

As they inspected it further out of curiosity, they suddenly felt the sharp wind of someone quickly passing by it sweep over them. It would seem that the Black Arms' trusty scientist, Eclipse, was in need of something, and fast.

"Where are you heading, Eclipse?" It asked.

"Shadow, you must understand, I am no good with robotics." They responded, seeming to completely skip the question.

"So you're...?" Shadow inquired further, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm going to take that two-tailed fox prisoner and have them explain to me how that sort of thing works." Eclipse answered bluntly, leaving Shadow stunned.

"... I-I would have... thought that you of all people would have realized how completely moronic that sounds by this point..." Shadow sputtered, trying to collect its thoughts, "I have nothing else going on right now, I at least know Omega better than you do, let's just figure out how to get him hooked up to the hivemind together!" 

"... Ah. I accept your offer, my liege." Eclipse said, feeling embarrassed.

The two walked quietly to Eclipse's laboratory, Shadow silently hoping to be able to check up on the progress of the new Dark Arms as well as their own Project Midnight. It felt bad that they hadn't been able to help with development as of late, with all the duties it has been given as the Black Arms' new leader, but it knew that Midnight was in good hands with Eclipse and Relic keeping tabs on her progress. Shadow began to ponder if this was how Black Doom felt during Shadow's own creation, he too carried the responsibility of leadership, as Gerald watched over Shadow aboard the ARK. Did Doom similarly trust Gerald to that level as well? Or was there distrust towards him for his humanity? But this was before G.U.N raided the ARK, so why did Shadow have that feeling?

"Do... do you not remember...? Just before our battle..." Doom muttered, sounding somewhat pained.

"Remember...? What is there to remember...?" Shadow inquired, confused.

"Pardon me...?" Doom responded, shocked.

"I... I don't remember our battle in itself all that much... Just the moment of regret... A moment that came far too late..." Shadow explained.

"I... I see..." Doom replied, both concerned and intrigued by this discovery.

But the time for speculation of any sort, or for checking up on any laboratory projects, was cut short, as when Eclipse and Shadow arrived at the laboratory, they both saw Yuki sitting on the table, seemingly waiting for them both to arrive.

"Yuki, don't you believe it's a bit early to be preparing to rest?" Eclipse asked, as recently Yuki and Harazuki had been sleeping in Eclipse's laboratory, like they had in the nursery on the New Black Comet.

"It would be, blarjikære*, but that is not why I'm here." Yuki clarified, "With yesterday's failure to capture Amy, I have decided to instead look into finding the location of Trixie and her partners for now. As for why I'm here, I thought you two could help me out with that." He then explained.

*Translation Note: Close friend within the Black Arms

"I know of a Trixie, but I don't know how helpful that would be..." Shadow responded.

"Please tell me regardless, you never know." Yuki told them.

"Trixie Rose! Member of my favorite pop punk band, Roses & Renegades! She's a black cat mobian with a pink streak in her fur!" Shadow explained, Yuki and Eclipse looking at it in shock. "...Did I say something wrong?" 

"Trixie Rose is the exact name of the person we're looking for." Eclipse informed them.

"And pink is like... her signature color!" Yuki added.

"Oh. I guess that would explain the strong Black Arms vibes I always got from their music." 

"... Kæ' Blak Doom ducsie, Shahdo…*" Yuki and Eclipse both groaned in unison.

*Translation Note: “Dear Lord Black Doom almighty, Shadow…”

"Wait! You said a band, right? Shadow, can you tell me about the other members?" Yuki said.

Shadow did as it had requested, revealing that the band had three members in total. Along with Trixie, there was with her Stella Primrose, a tan hyena mobian with purple streaks in her fur, and Max Rosemary, a dull red octopus mobian with darker maroon tips at the ends of his tentacles that served as hair.

"Yep, that adds up. Those descriptions match decently well with Trixies dearest partners; Rai and Aikshlin Rose." Yuki noted simply, while Eclipse wrote everything that Shadow had said down in a spare notebook they had lying around.

"Oh! Rai! Father and Aunt Sendrir taught me recently that rai means star in Hi-Bloosiæne! And stella means star in Italian! I think that should count as another point for suspicion!" Shadow informed the two.

"I don't know if that's clever or stupid..." Eclipse muttered, garnering a chuckle out of Yuki and Shadow.

"Okay, whatever you say, Doctor Ezrieal Clysdale." Shadow teased, to which Eclipse scoffed and rolled their eyes, but smiled nonetheless.

"Aikshlin... It seems that he is alive and well... Oh how glad that makes me...!" Doom interjected suddenly.

"That pleases me as well... He always lended me a helpful hand when I needed it. If I were truly a Black Arms leader beyond the hopes of some of the hivemind's people, he would have certainly been considered a loyal attendant to my side..." Eclipse recollected.

"I see... He was once one of my attendants before our failed invasion. A truly skilled and loyal soul born from a rather peculiar human boy..." Doom replied.

"Perhaps that should be a priority of ours? To search for and bring home these lost Black Arms?" Shadow suggested.

"I'm down for that." Yuki responded. "I will mention, there's at least one other lost Black Arms other than those three." 

"Is there now?" Eclipse questioned curiously.

"Yes. I remember in the chaos that was the crumbling of the New Black Comet, I came across a maiden I simply knew as Blossom, I believe she worked as er... something like what you'd call a librarian in this land's tongue? They organized and kept check of all the information stored in the Black Arms hivemind at any given time. When I saw her run past me to one of the escape pods, I read only one thought from her mind... She desired to make sure the Black Arms story would be kept safe and maintained..." Yuki explained.

"Hello Mama! Hello Uncle Yuki!! Hello Shadow!! I noticed you all are talking... plotting... Do you want some tea to accompany you?" Rhygenta implored of the three, appearing suddenly from below the table.

"That would be splendid, deary!" Eclipse replied happily. "Thank you so much!" 

"No problem!" Rhygenta said as she scurried off to prepare the teas, continuing to listen to the three converse as she did.

—------------------------------------------------------

After Amy and Nicky were done talking, they, along with Sally and Tails, left the room and integrated themselves within the rest of the lot at the party. There were a lot of people in Ms. Vanilla's house tonight, it would seem that all of the Freedom Fighters were in attendance, not to mention the addition of the Chaotix and Big. Though, still, it was far less than the amount of people at Amy's birthday party just a few weeks earlier, which Amy did indeed find entertaining. Sure, it was her Sweet Sixteen, it had to be a big party! But despite that, Amy still found the juxtaposition between her own larger than life party then and Knuckles's more low key party now intriguing. It was mainly Knuckles's idea for Amy to have such an extravagant party, after all. Amy was almost in a way like a daughter to him, and he wanted to make sure that Amy is given the best life she can have, which is why he seemed less than pleased to see Nicky, who he still believed to be Sonic, enter his line of sight.

"You've got a lotta nerve turning up here with those glasses of yours with how you've been acting lately!" He snarled.

"Knuckles, I understand your concern, but why don't we settle down for now? It's your b-day, big guy! You deserve to enjoy it." Tails said to Knuckles, hoping to gently soothe him down. They would've told him about the system thing if it weren't for how busy the whole house was at that moment.

"Oh alright, I guess you're right..." Knuckles obliged, Tails could hear Espio chuckling from close behind.

As Tails and Nicky were occupied with Knuckles, Amy slipped away and trudged through the crowd to locate Whisper, wondering if she had found the other Freedom Trainees, or if she had been essentially stranded amongst the chaos. Eventually she noticed that the Freedom Trainees and Big had snuck away with Cream into her bedroom in order to avoid the mass of people. Understandable, Amy's a social gal, and even then, things were starting to feel a bit uncomfortable for her. Perhaps it was the fact that Vanilla's home was not really built to house so many people? Or maybe it was just from her worries about everything else as of late.

As Cream, Big, Tangle and Lux cleaned and prepared Cream’s tea sets for the big dinner that night, Amy watched the other partygoers go about, with Whisper, Tsunami and Jewel by her side. She did consider the thought that such behavior could be perceived as weird, or even off putting, but Amy came to the conclusion that she didn’t quite care. As much as she hated it, she had the feeling that something could go wrong at any moment, and she wanted to be ready for when that would happen.

She saw Nicky go to grab something from his pocket, only to realize that whatever it was that they were looking for was not in there.

“I’ve been thinking about what Nicky said…” Tsunami said as the aforementioned Nicky scurried off into the crowd, and out of Amy’s sight.

“What part are you thinking about?” Amy asked Tsunami telepathically, not wanting to be heard by the partygoers, some of them surely still unaware of Tsunami’s existence.

“The part about that whole… dissociative disorder thing… he has… being caused by childhood trauma..” Tsunami answered sheepishly.

“... Why that, specifically?” Amy quiered, unaware of where Tsunami was going with this.

“Well… I said it already before, but it bears repeating; I was not a good mother to my first two children… I would often abandon them along with the rest of my responsibilities… That is not to say that there was no one looking after them at all, no… But while Trixie found herself often in Doom’s care, Yuki was often looked after by my brother, Black Death… His temper was abhorrent, but I had figured back then that he would at least fare decently well as a caretaker in my absence, as he had been sufficient enough with such responsibilities in the past… But the times had changed… He had grown colder, more angry, more violent… I can realize in hindsight that such company was not fit for poor Yuki… As it was Death who would, funny enough, see to it my end…” Amy looked at Tsunami, completely stunned. Big, too, had paused, hearing Tsunami’s tale. “When I would look after Yuki, I noticed that… He seems to experience the same woes Nicky does… And now I can’t help but wonder… Is it my fault that Yuki is now afflicted with such a disorder…?” 

That was most certainly a difficult question, and one that seemed to weigh on Tsunami heavily. Amy, however, seemed to come to an answer rather easily.

"I wouldn't say so, personally… Sure, maybe abandoning your children wasn't the wisest choice… But I'd definitely argue it was ultimately your brother's fault for the trauma Yuki sustained, as he was supposed to care for him in your absence. Your brother betrayed the trust you had in him by hurting Yuki… That's just my opinion, though." She said. "Besides, you realize now that what you did was wrong, so why dwell on it, instead of trying to grow from it?"

"Mr.Big, are you feeling alright…? You've become very quiet all of a sudden…" Cream asked, causing a pit to form in both Amy and Tsunami’s stomachs.

"I'm not keen on keeping secrets around here… Big is a Black Arms too, but he's a nice one… Got it…?" Whisper explained to the others.

"The Black Arms? Aren't those the scary aliens that invaded our planet a couple of years ago..?" Cream asked.

"Uh… yes…?" Amy sheepishly answered, for she had been hoping that she could keep Cream away from all this Black Arms nonsense.

"Oh! Is that the past mistake Ms.Tsunami is trying to atone for? Well, I do believe that having another familiar ally on your side is a very lucky thing to have, yes yes!" Cream surmised, which significantly calmed the nerves of all three of the previously Black Arms affiliated members of the present party.

"... I guess now would be a good time to mention that Amy is also part Black Arms then, huh?" Tangle suggested with a nervous smile.

"Really?? I didn't know that!!" Cream replied.

"Neither did I! Sonic kept it a secret from me until just last week, when xe had to clear things up after it was dropped on me like a bombshell by the jackass that also drugged Whisper." Amy remarked, too bitter over the situation to care about Vanilla possibly becoming cross with her for swearing while talking to Cream.

“That’s not very nice of Mr.Sonic to do!” Cream reacted, shocked.

“Mx.Sonic, I’m pretty sure. I was told that they wanted to start shying away from masculine terms.” Amy quickly told the young girl.

“Oh, okay! My mistake!”

“So, you’re gonna be a part of the Giving Those Black Aliens An Ass Whoopin’ Crew, then?” Lux asked Big.

“Ah… I’d rather not fight… But I do want to help make them stop hurting people…” Big answered.

“Good enough for me!” Lux exclaimed, leaning into Big for an embrace.

As the others chit-chatted, with the air less tense, Amy returned to watching the party. She saw Nicky return with what seemed to be a piece of paper in his hand. It can’t be… can it?

“Hey, I uh… found this letter at the doorstep after my talk with Tails and Sal.” He said awkwardly.

Amy's body froze as she overheard Nicky's words. Amy had spent her entire day running from the current events of her life, not wanting to put up with it, and yet, another fucking letter?? Did they not learn from last time?? Amy felt herself becoming enraged, but as soon as she noticed that rage, she tried to suppress it. To be so angry would be to be like how Shadow was, it would prove Sonic right, and she didn't want that in any sense of the word.

The Freedom Trainees noticed Amy's tense aura and all looked at her in concern. None of them were there for when Amy had last faced The Black Arms, they were in the Sky Patrol playing board games while she fought on the streets of Starlight City with Knuckles, Tails and Espio. They had no idea about the truth of that letter she received yesterday.

Despite the stress she was under, Amy told them the truth. She told them who the letter from yesterday was truly from.

"... Figures..." Whisper snarled, looking like she was ready to kill every one of those black aliens right then and there.

"... Maybe this is different? Nicky didn't even say the letter was for you..." Jewel suggested, trying to calm Amy down.

Jewel was right, it wasn't for Amy, it was for Knuckles.

Is that better?

Amy couldn't quite tell.

“Uhm… Thanks, I guess?” It was clear that Knuckles felt just as uneasy as Amy did, which was a comfort in some sense.

“Y-you don’t have to read it right now, I know you’re busy with the party and all, just figured that it’d be important to bring this to your attention, that’s all…” Nicky explained, which was followed up by Knuckles asking where this meek attitude had come from so suddenly, still thinking it was Sonic that he was talking to. Amy would probably have to explain the system thing to him later, if Tails wasn’t already planning on doing that themself.

“Whatever… I guess I should skim through it real quick to get it out of the way…” Knuckles surmised, giving Amy a glance of understanding through the window.

“Shit, he knows I’ve been watching-!” Amy suddenly exclaimed in her thoughts, which were picked up on by Big and Tsunami.

“He doesn’t seem mad, though…” Big pointed out.

“... I guess he doesn’t, huh?” Amy responded, feeling better.

“Perhaps we should go to his side to see what this letter says?” Tsunami suggested.

“Good idea, it’s never a bad thing to be prepared, right?” Amy remarked, getting up from the spot she had been sat upon. “Be right back.” She then said to all of those not in the hivemind.

Knuckles noticed Amy heading over to him and paused his reading of the letter, waiting for her to get close enough to view it with him, letting her take grasp at the paper once she had reached his side so that both of them could view it.

Dear Knuckles,

I write this note with a heavy heart, as I have the worst feeling about my fate as I make my return to the Black Arms’ base.

So, with my final moments, whether that be of sanity or of life, I’d like to get some things off my chest, and give you some much needed apologies.

I had known of Relic’s betrayal for some time now, long before you did. When I’d talk to Shadow back in their wishy-washy days, they’d often bring Relic - and her fascination with Eclipse and the Black Arms - up, even when she still would come along to our missions as if she was still with us.

I kept that from you, Knuckles, because I had realized what a mistake I had made in dragging you into this mess of ours. I wanted you to have thought you had won, while scaling back and making this a purely Team Dark mission once more. 

But that didn’t quite work out, did it?

I suppose this is goodbye, then. I wish you the best of luck, my old friend.

- Rouge L’Amour

A considerable feeling of a knot being formed in both Amy and Knuckles’ stomachs appeared as they read the letter, feeling uneasy, and unsure of what was the “correct” way to approach this issue. Though, regardless of not knowing the “correct” answer, they both certainly found an answer for each of their own selves rather quickly.

“Sounds like a her issue.” Knuckles said plainly, crumbling the letter up in his hands.

“But shouldn’t we do something regardless? She sounds unsure of her decision… Maybe there’s still time to stop her? We could invite her to the Freedom Fighters! She did help out a lot back when we were The Resistance!” Amy argued.

“She definitely did, but that was back then. Just like you’ve made the decision to stick by us and defend Aerth, she made the decision to defend the Black Arms back last week. Rouge can deal with the mess she made with that decision herself.” Knuckles argued back, throwing the letter in the trash. “Let’s not worry about her. It’s our time to have fun without those alien scum!”

Amy thought of arguing back once again, but she realized that he had a point. All this time that she had been wishing for a day of peace, a day of rest, and she was about to give that up for some grown adult who should be mature enough to sort her own shit out? Well, she shouldn’t. That’s what Knuckles was trying to get across, that's what Amy had now realized.

Soon enough, the big party dinner had come and gone, with many different flavorful foods to eat, of both the savory and sweet variety, and lots of talking to be had.

As Amy had one part expected and one part hoped, Tails explained the whole system situation around Nicky and Sonic to everyone else in attendance that hadn’t already known. There were many questions asked, and many of them answered by either Tails or Nicky, and in the end, everyone had come to a better understanding of their dear friend, or, friends, as it were.

One of the questions that was asked, more towards the end of the discussion, was why Nicky was the one fronting now in the first place, when it had been Sonic who had been the one out and about for so long. To this, Nicky explained that he had noticed how much harm Sonic was doing to the body and their relationships with everyone that was a part of the Freedom Fighters, so he had pulled xem aside to talk about it.

Sonic hadn’t always been a host, Nicky said, they used to simply be the primary protector of the Genesis Overdrive collective, fronting to fight Doctor Robotnik, and then letting Nicky have control over the body again once the battle had been won. That’s how it was back when they had lived in South Island, with their mother and siblings. But things began to change when they moved to Mobotropolis. Fights became more frequent, and so did the amount of time Sonic spent in the front. It came to the point where everyone had known the body as Sonic, so Sonic believed that playing into that, by being the one who was in the front the most, would be the easiest course of action for not having to out themselves as a system before they were ready.

But since Sonic was originally formed to protect, that mindset began to extend out to people they knew outside of the system, too. Sonic wished to protect everyone, though, of course, that didn’t always go as planned. Xe especially began to go overboard with it all after Shadow left G.U.N to rejoin the Black Arms. In the time Sonic had been the one out most often, they had formed a crush on Shadow, and had made it their mission to protect it from its own ties to the Black Arms. But Shadow hadn’t taken such advances very well, and while they never said it, it was clear they did not reciprocate Sonic’s feelings towards it.

Despite this, Sonic was the last Freedom Fighter Shadow had spoken to before its sudden leaving of G.U.N.. It had come with xem when they went to Starlight City to pick up their wisp Yacker from Doctor Ezrieal Clysdale’s clinic. Xe noticed that Shadow had stayed behind in the clinic, but in the moment, Sonic hadn’t thought anything of it. As time went by, however, and the news of Shadow’s resignation spread throughout the Freedom Fighters, Sonic began to put together what had truly happened that day, though it wasn’t until last week that xe finally had all the details.

In the end, Sonic felt sorry for treating Amy the way that they had, and hoped that one day, their relationship could recover. But Nicky understood that it would be a rocky road ahead, and the two mutually decided to let Nicky be the one in the front for a while.

As the discussion of the Genesis Overdrive had met its end, Tangle decided that it would be her that would reveal Big’s true identity. The announcement had seemed to come from nowhere, and shocked all who weren’t previously aware. Jewel and Whisper had even given her glares of judgment from how sudden the announcement was. But ultimately, after some questions and discussions, everyone was understanding, and thankful that Big had decided to stick by Aerth, even though it wasn’t where he had originally come from. Knuckles even had remarked that it was good to have someone on their side that’s familiar with the Black Arms’ tactics, since Amy had lived with mobians all her life, and Shadow had relapsed into the hivemind.

Eventually, the birthday cake was cut and eaten, and things began to settle down.

Tails and Rotor still had work to do on repairing the Sky Patrol, so they advised against anyone sleeping in there that night. With that being said, the Chaotix made it clear that they planned on bunkering with Knuckles on Angel Island that night, and most of the Freedom Fighters decided to join in on that idea. 

“It’ll be like we’re camping!” Nicky had remarked.

Amy, Big, and the Freedom Trainees, however, had instead opted to stay at Vanilla’s house for the night, liking the idea of having a sleepover together, and with Cream, and as the sunset turned to twilight, and twilight to night, the Freedom Trainees all went to sleep, one by one.

But even as the hours inched closer to midnight, Amy couldn’t do the same.

She just couldn’t go to sleep, no matter how much she tried.

[jjmaybankshousekeeping]

why can’t i be like the other boys - pandora rosier

summary - yn is feeling major dysmorphia. pandora helps them and makes a deal to help with it.

warnings - panic attacks, body dysmorphia, crying. i think that’s it.

a/n - if there are any trans people or plus size people struggling with body dysmorphia, please do not read this right now as there are very negative thoughts mentioned in this post. my dms are open if anyone wants to talk.

post number - 9

word count - 839

reader - trans male, pre-transition, plus sized.

you and stared into your mirror; why couldn’t you just be like the other boys. why were you born in the wrong body? why couldn’t you just be flat? all of the thoughts racing around your head were getting to you.

‘you’re too fat.’

‘you’re not a real boy.’

‘they’ll never treat you like the other guys.’

‘deadname’

‘a real boy has a flat chest’

all of the false information in your head drove you nuts; tears fell from your eyes to the floor faster than you could say ‘expelliarmus’. your breathing got faster and your breath became heavier.

the salty tears fell onto your lips, making it harder to focus on your breathing.

suddenly, the door to your dorm room opened, and you couldn’t even control your emotions enough to bother trying to hide what was happening from which ever one of your roommates came in.

“yn? what’s wrong?” the familiar voice of pandora rosier spoke to you, “what happened?”

pandora sat down next to you and immediately pulled you into a hug.

“what’s going on?” she quickly realised that you couldn’t breathe properly and pulled away from you.

she held your hands, giving you a soft squeeze of reassurance that everything would be okay.

“deep breaths, okay?” her soft voice rang, your ears were ringing, and her face was spinning softly and had duplicated by now.

“inhale, exhale.”

you followed her breathing pattern, slowing down your breathing, bringing it back to normal, along with your vision and hearing.

“that’s better. can you tell me what’s wrong? it’s okay if you’re not comfortable talking about it. i’m here to talk - or just to listen if you need me though. always.”

you open your mouth to speak but no words come out, just a small squeak. you sighed, as tears came to your eyes again.

this time pandora pulled you into a tight hug, knowing you needed it, and softly rubbed your back.

“everything’s gonna be okay, yn. i’m here for you.”

you pulled away, now ready to talk, “i hate myself- im not a real boy, and i never will be, nothings gonna change that. i can’t make myself flat - i’ve tried it all, binders, spells that are too difficult for me to do, tape, clingfilm, literally everything and nothing works.” you ranted.

pandoras eyes softened, listening to your voice break as you spoke, “why don’t the binders work? i thought they were meant to be one of the best things?”

“they are!” you accidentally raised your voice, “sorry. i- they-“

“it’s okay. i’m listening.”

“i’m too fat. they don’t fit me. even the large sizes. i hate that nowhere does bigger sizes than a large and i hate myself for not fitting into the biggest size.”

“please don’t talk about yourself like that. you really shouldn’t use the word fat as a way to insult yourself. it’s not a bad word, you know?” pandora reassured, “it’s just a word that people try to make sound bad, but it’s not, it’s just a word. you are perfect no matter how you look. yes, you’re a plus size guy, but do you realise how many men are too? millions! take peter as an example, he’s plus size - he doesn’t care; i know you’re not him, but if you just look at how happy he is, you can be that happy, just don’t let your body bother you. your body is beautiful no matter how big, or small it is.”

your mouth opened in awe, you didn’t know what to say, “but i’m not flat either, peter can’t relate to that.”

“how about this, if you can do one thing for me, i’ll measure you and make you a binder that fits you perfectly?”

“what’s the one thing?” you asked, concerned it would be something you couldn’t do.

“every day when you wake up, say something nice about yourself, maybe a couple things, doesn’t matter if you don’t mean it. you don’t even have to believe it. just say it. eventually you’ll trick your brain into believing the things you don’t believe and you’ll thing good things about yourself.”

you chuckled, “you don’t really thing that works, do you.”

“it does.” pandora raised her point, “i do it all the time, have been since i was a kid. and i got reggie doing it - he used to despise himself, and the way he looks. he hated that he wasn’t flat for so long, even though he is now cause of the spells he learnt, he wasn’t for a long time, but he learnt to love his body even before, and after, by saying nice things to himself.”

“okay. i’ll do it.”

pandora’s smiles beamed, “excellent! i’ll get making your binder first thing saturday. so only a few days; i should have it done by monday or tuesday!”

you pulled her into a tight hug, squeezing her slightly, “thank you.” you whispered.

“no problem.”

“i love you, pandora. you’re the best friend i could ever ask for.”

[ruvviks]

Chapter >> 4 [x] Characters >> Cato Wu (oc), Ivan Dupoint (oc), Ravager (oc), Vincent Mayer (oc), Vitali Dobrynin (oc), a long list of side characters Total >> 10.1k words Warnings >> Alcohol mention, blood, brainwashing mention, dissociation (sort of), food / diet mention, injuries, mild descriptions of torture, parents / family, transphobia (all in part 1; one implied instance of deadnaming, one instance of misgendering), violence

‘Vitali? Living room. Now.’

Vitali sat on the windowsill of his room, eyes staring blankly ahead and head still heavy from sleep despite already having been awake since six in the morning. He had been drinking, the night before; perhaps a little more than he had anticipated, but simply removing his hearing aid had not been nearly enough to drown out the angry voices booming through the house.

He slowly turned his head to look at the doorway. Daniil was just staring at him- dark brown eyes piercing right through Vitali and arms defensively crossed in front of his chest- and when Vitali looked up he mouthed an impatient “davay” and nodded into the hallway.

Pathetic little lapdog.

‘Piss off,’ Vitali spat, voice a little hoarse from having barely spoken for several weeks. Daniil mockingly repeated him, but the moment Vitali suddenly half-jumped from the windowsill and bared his teeth at him, he flinched and darted back into the hallway as fast as he could.

The end of Vitali’s solitary confinement. Finally. It was still ridiculous to him; Daniil had started, as per usual, but Vitali had received all the blame and had ended up all alone in his room and forced on a diet, considering he had only been allowed to have dinner each day.

He lowered himself on the floor, walking over to his closet while quickly buttoning his flannel all the way to the top. It was Mikhail’s; he had taken it from his home a while ago, and thus far had been unable to return it to him because of- well, obvious circumstances.

Mikhail had shown his face on occasion, though. He had brought Vitali food to his window and they would have some quick small talk in sign language only, to make sure no one would hear them. But the conversations had never lasted long, as Mikhail was still learning- but Vitali had appreciated it anyway.

He wasn’t used to people making an effort for him. But Mikhail… Mikhail was different.

Vitali quickly put on some shorts and glanced in the mirror, turning sideways to check his frame; the size of the flannel caused his chest to be barely visible even though he was not wearing his binder at the time, and he let out a relieved sigh before glancing back at the door of his room.

Here goes nothing.

He hated having to talk things out.

Not because he did not want to; in fact, Vitali wanted nothing more than to be able to communicate normally with his family, but the others- especially his mother- made it nearly impossible for him. He never knew what to expect, but simultaneously with the guarantee that no one would learn, no one would change, and next time it would all happen again.

And of course he himself would not be able to let it go, either; too stubborn to just let things slide, especially if they were unfair to him- which was usually the case. That is exactly what had happened that time as well, yet now he’d had to suffer consequences bigger than any time before.

To his surprise, everyone was in the living room- Daniil, his mother, his father; even Roksana, who was only eleven years old at the time and had not had anything to do with what had happened in the first place. She stared at Vitali with big eyes, her long, ashy black hair framing her round face, ears sticking out prominently through the strands; the moment their gazes met, she stuck out her tongue at him and ran to the couch, jumping on top with a force that would have easily gotten Vitali in trouble had he been the one to do it, and she hid her face into the cushions.

Vitali’s eyes traced the rest of the room. Daniil stood next to his mother- a short woman with hair as dark and dull as her daughter’s, and eyes as deep and piercing as her youngest son’s- and averted his gaze the moment Vitali looked at him; and his father- with lighter hair than his wife, slicked back and mostly graying, and the same, pale gray-ish blue eyes as his oldest son- was sat at the dining table, laptop in front of him as he continued to work.

As usual.

His mother said a name- one Vitali had not heard in a while, and his chest painfully tightened as the air was forced out of his lungs. Whatever willingness he had previously had to talk vanished as if it had never even been there in the first place, promptly turning the atmosphere around them static as if a thunderstorm was about to roll in.

‘That took you long enough,’ Nadya coldly continued, her poor excuse of an American accent entirely out of place in the household. ‘Next time you hurry, yes? “Now” means now.’

There was so much Vitali wanted to say. At the very least correct her, ask her to stop pretending nothing had changed; but he knew it was of no use to argue with her, to try and defend himself or to stand up for himself-

‘Sorry, mother,’ he merely mumbled in response.

It was nearly embarrassing to him, how easily she could get him to shut down completely. All it took was a mention of the past- a painful one at that, but just one fucking word- and he would fold, crumple up like a wet piece of paper and he would need all his self-control to prevent his tears from flowing freely.

Nadya continued to speak, though Vitali was barely listening. He knew what she was saying; going over the details of what had happened, and how wrong Vitali had been and how he should be ashamed of himself. How the consequences of it all had all been his own fault alone, and if he would do something like that again he would meet exactly the same fate once more, if not worse.

Vitali’s eyes wandered through the room and he found Daniil again; he was staring him down, now, an almost triumphant look in his big eyes as Nadya once more emphasized Daniil had not been in the wrong at any point-

And then he shrugged.

Tilting his head ever so slightly as a light smile crept on his face, eyes twinkling with glee as he watched another shadow wash over Vitali’s face, knowing exactly what was going to happen next-

‘He broke my phone,’ Vitali promptly said, interrupting his mother mid-sentence and instantly receiving a glare from his father. ‘All I did was ask him if he could help me with laundry. That is all I asked from him. And that was his response.’

‘Yes, and?’ Nadya raised her voice now, eyes nearly spitting fire as she stepped forward- causing Vitali to instinctively take a step back. ‘If I remember correctly I asked you to do laundry. Not Daniil. You should have just done it yourself!’

‘I would have gladly done so if I had not been a little preoccupied cleaning entire house by your urgent “request”!’ Vitali sneered back, heartbeat picking up in his chest. ‘I only asked him to take laundry out of washing machine for me- I was going to fold it myself-’

‘He is fourteen!’

Nadya’s voice pierced through the living room and Vitali flinched involuntarily, biting the inside of his cheek hard to prevent himself from saying anything else. Another glance at Daniil- he was no longer looking at him, yet the smile still lingered on his face.

He knew exactly which buttons to press; to anger Vitali, get him to say something stupid to the point Nadya would yell at him. And Vitali knew the kid did it on purpose, fully aware of his own mistakes and not wanting their mother to think about it for longer than five seconds and realize that perhaps Daniil was in fact to blame.

In a way, Nadya was right. Daniil was still young- but at the same time it was not fair. It was not fair how she expected everything from Vitali, and Vitali alone, and it was not fair how she tried to make him feel bad for daring to need help- how she constantly tried to turn him into some sort of third parent-

‘I was fourteen too,’ Vitali quietly said, before he could stop himself. ‘When you started making me do things here. And it was a lot more than just taking fucking laundry out of washing machine-’

‘Watch your language, young lady.’

A deafening silence fell over the room.

Vitali shakily inhaled, suddenly aware he had been holding his breath for some time now. A heavy weight pressed down on his shoulders, as if trying to force him to his knees- every last bit of energy he’d had left in him was suddenly gone, every urge to fight his mother vanished like snow in the sun and he wanted nothing more than to disappear with it.

None of this was new. Even though she had known for a year now, Nadya refused to make an effort, stuck in mourning the loss of- of who, exactly? Vitali was still there. He had always been. But still, still- she refused to see it, and refused to try and understand.

It hurt.

It hurt so much, and Vitali could not do anything about it. Neither could anyone else- Nadya was stuck in her own impenetrable bubble, to the point that in that exact moment even Daniil and his father appeared uneasy.

‘Are you genuinely trying to tell me how to be a parent to my children?’ Nadya asked, her voice shaking with rage and eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets. ‘How dare you. I am your mother- I am the one in charge here. You do not get to tell me how to raise my children. Do you understand?’

So many things Vitali wanted to say. Tell her he was not her puppet, tell her he was not a toy for her to play with until she would grow tired of him, tell her his name was Vitali and he was her son and he was her child, and had always been her child, and the way she was treating him was hurting him-

‘Yes, mother,’ he merely mumbled in response.

‘Dinner at six tonight,’ Nadya coldly said, briefly turning her head to address the rest of the family as well. ‘If you are late, you go to bed on an empty stomach.’ Her eyes found Vitali’s again. ‘Clean your room. It is a mess. I will be checking when I get home.’

Nadya walked past Vitali without another word or waiting for a response, the tough fabric of her Arasaka combat gear scraping past his arm. He stood in silence, watching Daniil slowly wander toward the couch to join his sister- their eyes briefly met, and even though there was still a hint of his victory visible in them there was also something else.

Vitali wasn’t sure what, though.

He let out a sharp exhale and took a small step back, exhaustion washing over him and he glanced at the couch. Part of him wanted to join his siblings, turn on the TV, crash down and just sit there for the rest of the morning, possibly the afternoon as well; but he couldn’t, for some reason.

He no longer felt welcome in the living room. Had not for a few years, now.

He quickly blinked and clenched his jaw, chest tightening again when a wave of emotions suddenly rushed through him; and the air around him felt too heavy to carry, all of a sudden, pressing down on him as if to try and suffocate him- and he slowly turned around, ready to walk away.

‘Vitali.’

Vitali froze and clenched his fists, muscles in his upper body tensing up as he heard a chair slowly move backwards, the scraping of the wood over the floor making the hairs of his arms stand up straight. He felt a strong hand on his shoulder and reluctantly turned back around again, lowering his gaze to the floor.

‘Look at me.’

It nearly pained him; how calm Matvey still sounded, despite everything that had just happened. Situations always left him strangely unaffected, to the point Vitali sometimes wondered if his father had even been paying attention at all.

He slowly lifted his head and was met with a look he could not place. Not a surprise to him- Matvey was entirely unreadable most of the time. Though he did not hold the same hostility in his eyes as Nadya, not at that moment, at least, and despite his stern and distant demeanor Vitali swore he saw a hint of sympathy on his father’s face.

‘You know it is of no use,’ he said, holding his hand on Vitali’s shoulder as he briefly glanced into the hallway. ‘You need to work on your self-control- nothing you say to her will change the outcome of situation. You will only end up escalating it. You know that.’

‘It’s not fair,’ Vitali blurted out, his previous sudden rush of emotions overtaking him now and he felt tears well up in his eyes. ‘I only- I just- I just needed some help, and I thought that- I hoped that-’

‘I know. I know.’

A man of little words. Efficient and straightforward, with little interest and patience for unnecessary chatter and sentiments- including any and all displays of strong emotions. He reached out for Vitali’s face, causing him to lightly raise his shoulders at the sudden gesture, and softly tapped him on his jaw.

‘Chin up,’ he simply said, ‘no need for tears. Next time, no provocative behavior. Let your mother finish her sentences, do not try and fight her because you will get nothing out of it. And… And we will buy you a new phone. Yes?’

Vitali scoffed, a strangled sob leaving his throat with it as he shrugged his father’s hand off his shoulder and defeatedly shook his head, a single tear escaping the corner of his eye and slowly rolling down his cheek.

‘It’s not- It’s not about the fucking phone.’

He turned around and stumbled out of the living room back into the hallway, vision blurred by tears as another involuntary sob left his throat. He could hear his father say his name again behind him, but he was no longer listening-

Work on your self-control.

He had.

He had worked so hard, for years already- he was only sixteen, and he had put in so much effort to present his emotions in the way his parents expected of him all while they themselves never made any effort to do the same.

One time. One time he had lashed out, one fucking time- they had never praised him for all the times he hadn’t. He was not even expecting that, he didn’t want their praise. But to not even get some fucking recognition-

Vitali managed to find his way back to his room and stumbled inside, grabbing the door and he went to slam it shut; but he stopped himself, for some reason. Hand white-knuckled as he held on to the door handle so tight it nearly snapped off, and breath held as if time had stopped around him.

It was never good enough.

It did not matter what he did, how he reacted, whether he slammed a door or closed it quietly- he would simply not be good enough, still, his good behavior left unrewarded and his bad behavior blown out of proportion to the point his mother behaved as if it was all he ever did.

‘It was just laundry,’ he quietly said, to no one in particular, thumb rubbing over the door handle as if to try and soothe himself; and then, he slowly closed the door, making as little noise as possible as he moved the door handle back up-

A soft click, and then nothing.

Vitali rested his head against the door and shakily exhaled, another tear rolling down his cheek and falling onto the floor.

He wished he could be more like his father. He wished he could care less- feel less- he wished he could stay in full control of himself no matter how much Nadya yelled at him, no matter how much Daniil pestered him, no matter how often he would have to hear the name he had so desperately tried to forget-

Work on your self-control.

Vitali quietly sobbed, muscles in his upper body tensing up as he quickly raised his hand and covered his mouth, a futile attempt at muffling his crying. He slid down onto the floor, pulling up his legs and resting sideways against the door as he squeezed his eyes shut and desperately tried to stop himself-

But no matter how hard he tried, the tears kept coming.

‘For the last goddang time- I am not tellin’ you shit!’

Vitali’s teeth clacked together when his fist collided with Ravager’s cheek once more, knuckles already bloodied and bruised even though he had only just started. Ravager grunted, then screamed- a triumphant cry more than anything else, and then he merely laughed, blood trickling down his chin and dripping on his bare chest.

The small back room in Vitali’s office was mostly dark, windows blinded and a single TL light illuminating the space around the two men present. Ravager was tied to a simple office chair because of the lack of proper equipment in the room; but it kept him in place, for the time being, which was all Vitali needed.

It was not a surprise to him Ravager refused to budge. He could have known- the man was almost entirely cyberware, and Vitali’s punches were probably nothing more than a gust of wind to him. Besides, he mostly appeared to be enjoying himself; whether it was because of the adrenaline or a possible early stage of cyberpsychosis, Vitali was not entirely sure.

He took a step back, exhaling sharply as a jolt of pain moved through his leg. The rescue operation from some days ago had not done him much good; he had worn his brace as Viktor had urged him to do, but it had done nothing for him while he had been running around the facility and killing everyone who had dared to stand in his way-

He could have known Vincent was not going to let it go.

It made sense. If Vitali hadn’t been in his fixer position, he would have done exactly the same- would have joined Vincent and they would’ve burned all of Ravager’s facilities to the ground together for what he had put Mikhail through.

But Vitali could not afford to do something like that.

It had not been his time to strike, yet. As angry as he’d been, as unfair as it had been- going after Ravager right after they had found Mikhail back would have exhausted everyone even more than they had already been, and Vitali had known he could not ask such a thing of his mercs.

He leaned back against the wall and ran his hand through his hair, a somewhat desperate attempt to try and calm down; it had been a significant amount of time since his last haircut and a large chunk of it had by then returned to its original color- the dull, grayish black he could barely look at anymore.

God, it just seemed stupid, looking back to it now- allowing Vincent to go back to work. He had already wondered why Vincent had kept coming home full of adrenaline and on edge; but not at any point had he stopped and considered that perhaps Vincent was not just doing paperwork but also planning to do something drastic.

Vitali’s eyes found Ravager again. It angered him even more to see how unbothered the man was, eyes blank as he softly hummed a tune and glanced around the room, one leg lightly bouncing up and down as if he was just hanging out somewhere and enjoying the view.

He had been there, when they’d tried to rescue Vincent. Had shown up and things had gone only downhill for them from there on- which made sense, considering it had been a trap.

God, Vitali could have known- it had all seemed too good to be true, and they had found Vincent so fast- way too fast. But he had not given it another thought, knowing what Ravager’s people had done to Mikhail and not wanting Vincent to have to go through the same. He had lost control, had acted too rash and had suffered immediate consequences; but he had dragged everyone down with him.

‘Just give up, kid,’ Ravager suddenly said, tilting his head up and grinning at Vitali, his sharpened teeth red with his own blood, as he watched Vitali slowly move forward again while rolling up the sleeves of his white, lightly bloodstained shirt.

‘I’m not like your buddy. The boss has told me to keep my mouth shut, and I listen to ‘im and keep my fucken’ mouth shu-’

Vitali jolted forward at the mention of Mikhail and grabbed a handful of Ravager’s hair, ripping a knife out of the holster around his thigh at the same time and pressing it against the man’s neck, right between his cyberware.

‘Mention him again and I am going to fucking dissect you while you’re still alive,’ Vitali said, his voice lower than before and accent a little thicker than usual. He tightened his grip on Ravager’s hair the moment the man slightly moved, and watched as another grin spread on his face before he spoke.

‘That’s called vivisection, I’m pretty sure.’

Something inside Vitali snapped.

It was that seething rage again- the same rage he had felt when Dupoint had refused to let Vincent go, when a whole squad of Ravager’s people had been needed to drag Vitali back outside- the same rage he had felt when they had come back for Vincent some days later, when he had lost count of how many people his hands killed as he’d fought his way back to his boyfriend-

Something inside him had snapped. And-

God. It felt good.

Vitali stood unmoving, staring Ravager down as he slightly repositioned his fingers around his knife, and he couldn’t stop a smile from taking shape on his face. Ravager’s expression changed slightly, confused by Vitali’s sudden mood shift; and then Vitali pulled back his knife and plunged it in Ravager’s upper leg, drawing a pained, piercing cry from his lips.

‘How very intelligent of you,’ Vitali said, slightly raising his voice to stay audible above Ravager’s screams and twisting the knife around a bit while he placed his knee on the chair to prevent it from rolling away. ‘Swallowed a Thesaurus on your way here? Or did your friend Ivan teach you that big, difficult word?’

Ravager opened his mouth to speak, but Vitali pushed the knife in further before he could say anything and another shriek left his throat instead, flinching when Vitali yanked on his hair to tilt his head upward and leaned in until their faces were only inches apart.

‘Now, now, Ed,’ he mockingly continued, lower lip trembling from agitation as he moved his hand from Ravager’s hair down to cup his face and lightly slap his cheek. ‘I can’t hear you, darling. Lost your tongue?’

His heart was racing wildly in his chest, a nearly overwhelming sensation as he mockingly began humming the song Ravager had hummed earlier while slowly twisting the knife a little further in his leg. Ravager squirmed and grunted, then bared his teeth at Vitali- but in return, Vitali simply scoffed and smiled again, leaning in even further until his lips were nearly touching the cyberware on Ravager’s ear.

‘I will leave you to it for now, then,’ he whispered. ‘Let me know when you find it back, yes?’

It was strange, how comfortable Vitali felt in his position. Getting information out of people- using more drastic measures than just a simple interrogation- was something he used to do back at Arasaka, a time he did not look back to fondly; especially considering all the things he had done for them in the brief moment he had been back not too long ago, brainwashed, though still fully aware of the horrible things they had made him do.

And his anger- a painful reminder of his past, a reminder of something he had worked so hard for to never feel that intensely ever again, because it had brought him nothing but pain and misery while growing up-

But now, all of it together-

It was a relief.

Vitali stood up again and left the knife in Ravager’s leg, absently wiping his hands on his shirt as he slowly turned around and walked over to the door. Ravager sputtered behind him, whatever he was trying to say too incoherent for Vitali to understand; and without as much as giving the cyborg another look, he grabbed his cane and left the room.

Much to his surprise, Judy and Cato were right outside, leaning against the wall and both quickly standing up straight the second he walked out. They both appeared slightly concerned, almost- Ravager’s screams of pain would have probably been clearly audible from the hallway, considering the back room he was in was not soundproof in the slightest.

‘Do I need to call Vik for him?’ Judy asked, nodding at the door.

‘That might be necessary, yes- I would appreciate that,’ Vitali said, his heartbeat immediately settling down again the moment he saw his friends. ‘Thank you, Judy.’

Judy gave him a reassuring nod and quickly turned around to start making her way toward the medbay. Vitali turned as well and went the other way down into the hallway at a hurried pace, an attempt at getting rid of the leftover adrenaline in his body; Cato followed him, needing to jog a little to be able to keep up.

Vitali had already been so busy all day. He had spent most of his morning at home, to wait until Mikhail would wake up- he never left before at least having seen him in the living room- and to help Vincent shower, as he still had trouble standing up by himself especially when he had only just woken up.

And then he had gone to work, social battery already halved despite it still being before noon; had spent some hours monitoring the last few ongoing gigs, and had then been forced to attend a meeting with some other fixers to talk about the Broker situation, as if his network was not the sole network being attacked at that moment.

It pissed him off a little, how the Council continued to pretend this was still a city-wide problem; they had asked him to put his resources toward the safety of the entire district, as if he did not need them to keep his mercenaries and their families safe, and as if he was the only fixer around who was able to do that.

He understood they had lost trust in him. Especially after he had left Night City, and then he had come back without warning and for a while he had been Arasaka’s lapdog- not in control of his actions, much like Rogue, who was with that the only other fixer who was well aware of what had truly happened.

And at the end of the day he still did what was asked of him, the Heywood district having been his home all his life and not wanting innocent people to fall victim to the Broker’s attacks-

But it was still unfair.

He was far from the only fixer in the district- that being said, not even the richest of them all- and he already had his hands full trying to deal with situation after situation at his own office, let alone in an entire fucking district-

‘You alright, boss?’ Cato suddenly asked, clear hesitance in her voice. ‘You’re lookin’ a little pale.’

‘Just a little stressed,’ Vitali answered, tightening his grip on his cane- he hated it when people noticed he wasn’t feeling well. He hated knowing people worried about him. He didn’t want them to. Especially if they already had enough other things to worry about.

‘Can imagine.’ Cato fell silent for a moment, lowering her gaze and sighing softly. Vitali glanced at her and swallowed heavily, then gently nudged her with his elbow.

‘How are you doing?’ he quietly asked. ‘And- I don’t mean your injuries.’

Cato huffed, lips curling into a small smile as she dropped her head. ‘Was just about to say it’s just some bruises,’ she said. ‘But- I dunno. I’m a little tired, I guess. I’m glad it’s over for now.’

‘Me too.’ A hesitant pause. ‘And… And between you and Lauren?’

The question caught Cato off guard a little, and she looked back up at Vitali with a tightly clenched jaw; though the instant she noticed the genuine look of concern on his face, she relaxed, and quickly nodded.

‘We’re alright,’ she said. ‘I think, at least. She wasn’t too happy about havin’ to sit back and watch Judes control the Net, but- she understood. She’s not angry with me anymore, ‘n we talked about it all, so… that’s nice.’

‘Good. That’s good to hear.’

They arrived at another room and Vitali slowed down, having arrived at his destination. Cato lingered for a moment as well, stuffing her hands in the pocket of her jeans and glancing at the door.

‘Has either of ‘em talked yet?’ she quietly asked. ‘Well- Stupid question. I’m guessing no, considering our friend Ed needs a medic and you’re gonna get started with this one now.’

‘No luck thus far, no,’ Vitali answered. ‘We will have to increase measures for Ravager to get anything of use out of him, I think. As for Dupoint… I have some things in mind.’

He paused and took a moment to scan Cato’s face. She looked worried, still; though probably for a variety of reasons, and it was mixed with the same exhaustion Vitali saw on everyone else’s face. Another jab of guilt pierced his chest and he clenched his jaw, redistributing his weight to lean on his cane a little more.

‘I will make him talk,’ he quietly said. ‘He will talk. And we will figure this out, yes? As always. Figure out who the Broker is, take him down, and everything will go back to normal before you know it.’

‘I hope so, boss,’ Cato said, smiling wearily. ‘Anything else I can do to help out today? Finished the report, and- well, got most of the afternoon left.’

‘I think we have everything covered for now,’ Vitali said. ‘You go spend some time with Lauren and Eddie in the lounge. I will let you know if I need help with anything.’

Cato shot him another smile and left, leaving Vitali alone in the hallway. He paused for a moment, inhaling deeply as he stared at the door of the room he was about to enter. For some reason, his head was getting a little cloudy again; a fog threatening to roll in, to put him back in his passenger seat position-

He briefly lifted up his cane, causing his weight to shift to his leg and a painful sting shot through his entire body, all the way up his spine causing the muscles in his neck to tense up. Involuntary tears briefly filled his eyes and he quickly placed his cane down again, head a lot clearer again.

Without hesitating any longer, he entered.

The room was different from Ravager’s, a lot more spacious and well-lit; and on top of that, designed specifically to hold people captive, providing the tools necessary to get information out of those who refused to speak.

Dupoint was bound to a large surgery chair in the middle of the room, mouth covered by duct tape and head held in place by a large, metal clasp with sharp pins that would puncture skin and flesh the moment he were to move. His eyes widened upon spotting Vitali and he tried to speak, words muffled by the duct tape, and he made a futile attempt to free his legs and arms.

He looked pathetic. Had already looked like that before getting tied to the chair, but now it had somehow gotten even worse; his hair was sweaty and stuck to his equally-sweaty forehead, and he looked positively disheveled in his almost comically large suit as if he’d been wrung through a hydraulic press like a character in a children’s cartoon.

‘Good afternoon,’ Vitali said, placing his cane against the wall and walking over to the chair. ‘Enjoyed your morning? Thibault told me you cried a little bit when xe came to check up on you.’

A muffled answer. The comedic aspect of it all nearly made Vitali laugh, but he kept his composure as he slowly and carefully undid the metal clasp holding Dupoint’s head in place. Then, he violently ripped the duct tape off the man’s face, taking a couple of stray hairs from his mustache with it.

‘Die,’ Dupoint miserably blurted out, the unstable tone of his voice undermining the entire statement.

‘Tried that before,’ Vitali dryly answered, sticking the duct tape to the edge of the chair. ‘Not a fan.’

His rage was quickly coming back to him now, seeing the man responsible for Vincent’s suffering. It had not surprised him that Dupoint had refused to let them all walk free; his “promise” had been too good to be true. Perhaps he had truly believed Vincent would have lost; which was almost understandable, in a way, considering Vitali had also not expected Vincent to be a professional chess player.

Checkmate.

Vitali walked around the chair, to the small cart and cabinet with tools Thibault had provided for him. Dupoint’s gaze slowly followed him, but the man said nothing; though Vitali was unsure whether it was out of fear or because of something else.

He still wondered- why chess? It was a little frustrating to him, even; clearly an important piece of the puzzle, but with no obvious connection to anything else that had happened thus far. A message to him from the Broker, in Dupoint’s words, but Vitali had no idea what the message was supposed to be.

And somehow, it had felt familiar to him. A strange, nearly alienating feeling of familiarity, but as deep as he had attempted to dig in his memory, he had found absolutely nothing.

Another result of Arasaka toying with his brain, perhaps; or just a sign he was truly starting to lose it.

Vitali slowly picked up some pliers, twisting the tool around in his hand as he glanced back at Dupoint. Then, without any hesitation, he grabbed the man’s hand, took hold of one of his fingernails and forcefully ripped it off.

Dupoint’s jaw clacked up, biting his tongue in the process and he wailed in pain, hand tensing up as he tried to yank it back. Vitali let him go again, placing the pliers back, and he patiently waited for Dupoint to become quiet.

‘Now that I have your attention, I am going to need you to answer some questions for me,’ he calmly said. ‘Think you can do that?’

‘You ripped off my nail!’ Dupoint yelled at him, voice a few octaves higher than before and some blood trickling down the corner of his mouth.

‘Very good observation. I will rip off another if you don’t stop yelling at me.’

Dupoint closed his mouth, eyes wide as he stared at Vitali. His face was a lot paler, suddenly- definitely not used to interrogation tactics like Ravager, but Vitali had little interest in going easy on him.

Vincent’s entire side and lower back were black and blue from the excessive beatings Dupoint had given him. If it was up to Vitali, he would chop Dupoint up into tiny pieces and put him in a meat grinder-

But he still needed him. For now. To get his answers.

‘Ravager has been taking things from me,’ Vitali said, grabbing a tissue from the cart and picking up the pliers again to clean them. ‘Now I usually don’t care much for cargo, but we are starting to run low on supplies. Happen to know where I can find them back?’

Without a delay, Dupoint’s irises lit up bright blue and a notification popped up in the corner of Vitali’s vision- coordinates, by the looks of it.

‘See, all you had to do was ask,’ Dupoint spat, dropping his head back onto the chair with a bit more force than necessary, and he lightly winced on impact. ‘I’m a civilized man- there is no need for any of these foul practices.’

Vitali scoffed, heartbeat picking up and he immediately reached out for Dupoint’s hand again, taking a second fingernail from him as if he was merely picking petals from a flower. Dupoint cried out in pain once more, wailing something in French at him- but Vitali was no longer listening to him.

‘Foul practices,’ he mockingly repeated, voice trembling slightly. ‘Hilarious. Came up with that one yourself?’

One corpo cunt to another, Vitali even somewhat understood Dupoint’s position; aware of all the torture tricks in the book, capable enough to perform them on others, but very little experience with being on the receiving end himself. Though Vitali had been in that position before- on several occasions, in fact- so naturally, from his own experiences he knew exactly what worked, and what didn’t.

‘Next question.’ Vitali paused, waiting until Dupoint looked at him again. ‘Edward Keizer. Ivan Dupoint. Two names already, but not the one I am looking for.’

‘I will stop you right there, my friend,’ Dupoint immediately interrupted him, a nervous chuckle in his voice. ‘You will not get a name from me. No name, no location- I gave you one thing already, and that is enough. I am loyal to the Broker. He would never betray me, and I would never betray him.’

Vitali opened his mouth to respond, but closed it again, suddenly finding himself at a complete loss for words. Anger bubbled up in his chest and he tightly clenched his jaw, now fully aware of that second familiar feeling starting to act up again; thick, heavy clouds in his head, obscuring his thoughts, and making it difficult for him to speak.

‘Cute,’ he said, grabbing Dupoint’s hand again and moving the pliers closer to his middle finger. ‘How about I take another nail from you, then?’

‘Take as many as you’d like,’ Dupoint smiled at him. ‘At some point I won’t have any left.’

Wrong answer.

Vitali’s face hardened and he yanked the third nail off Dupoint’s hand, wincing lightly when Dupoint’s agonized wail caused some feedback in his hearing aid. But he did not stop there- and took the fourth and fifth as well, breathing speeding up significantly as his everlasting patience finally ran out.

He felt nauseous. His anger was overwhelming, to the point he just wanted to laugh, for some reason- laugh and grab a knife and plunge it into Dupoint’s chest, once, twice, over and over and over again and then grab his head and ram it against the wall and kick his lifeless body until it was no longer recognizable-

And suddenly he was empty.

Vitali dropped the pliers. He straightened his back, evenly distributing his weight over both his legs and ignoring the stinging pain in his hip, as well as Dupoint’s pained whimpers and whines. A sudden calmness washed over him and he slowly turned his head back at the cart, eyes slowly trailing its contents until they landed on the small surgical knife at the far end.

Vitali grabbed it, then climbed onto the chair, ignoring Dupoint’s confused sputtering and stammering as he straddled the man’s lap and forcefully grabbed his hair to hold him in place like he had done to Ravager as well. He leaned forward and hooked the knife into one of Dupoint’s nostrils- not cutting anything just yet, but holding it threateningly in place.

‘You understand Russian, don’t you?’ Vitali asked, his native tongue much more comfortable in his mouth, all the sudden. ‘With your- fancy little translator implant. Nod if you do.’

Dupoint clenched his jaw, a single drop of sweat rolling down his forehead and dripping down his brow as he quickly nodded.

‘Good boy. Now, back to my question.’

The sudden shift in atmosphere had not done the man any good. Another anxious whine left his lips when Vitali slightly twisted the knife around- still not doing any damage, but clearly communicating the gravity of the situation.

‘Who am I dealing with?’ Vitali gently asked, tilting his head slightly when Dupoint attempted to turn his face away from him. ‘All I need is a name, Ivan. Two words- or, well, possibly more, I suppose. I don’t know.’

‘I cannot tell you that,’ Dupoint said through gritted teeth, whimpering quietly when Vitali tilted the knife in his nose a little bit, the tiny blade pressing painfully against his skin.

‘Oh, but you can!’ Vitali gave him an encouraging smile, then suddenly flicked the knife up, leaving a painful cut and causing Dupoint to yelp in pain. ‘You just answered one of my other questions with ease. I am sure you can do it again.’

Dupoint sputtered, half of the words leaving his lips in English, the other half in French. Vitali hummed another tune as he moved the knife back in place, and he smiled again when Dupoint’s near-incoherent stammering turned into a quite literal, loud and desperate prayer.

‘He’s- He’s going to- He won’t-’ Dupoint winced and promptly gagged, whimpering again when his own sudden movements caused Vitali’s knife to leave another cut. He cursed loudly, then pushed himself all the way back into the chair, squeezing his eyes shut when Vitali leaned in even further.

‘He won’t be able to hurt you, here,’ he softly cooed, dragging the knife out and pushing it down over Dupoint’s upper lip, carving a thin, red line in his flesh. ‘Only I am.’

He wanted to push the knife down further so, so bad. But something stopped him; a sudden newfound patience, keeping Vitali in check as he sat there, eyes slowly trailing Dupoint’s features as he waited for him to open his mouth again and finally give him an answer.

‘I cannot- I cannot tell you. It’s not time yet.’

Vitali stared at him for a moment. He felt a little curious; the same anger as before raged through his chest, though his heartbeat and breathing were stable, and his head was clearer than at any other moment during that day. Painfully familiar- but there was already nothing Vitali could do anymore to try and stop it.

‘A shame,’ he mumbled, briefly lifting the knife and loosening his grip on Dupoint’s hair. ‘Different question, then. Perhaps you’ll be able to answer this one for me.’

He lowered his hand to Dupoint’s jaw and held it tightly, locking him in place as he brought the knife to his mouth- and without hesitating, he hooked the knife inside and yanked it to the side, leaving a small cut right in the corner of Dupoint’s mouth and causing him to cry out in pain once more.

‘The game of chess,’ Vitali said, ignoring the man’s screams and exhaling sharply. ‘What did it mean?’

‘I don’t know!’ Dupoint cried. ‘I don’t- I had to do it- He made me do it! The moves, and the- I didn’t- There’s no-’

‘Pull yourself together!’ Vitali shouted, plunging the knife into the soft padding of the headrest of the chair, right next to Dupoint’s head. ‘What was his message to me? Why me? Why me?’

The sudden calmness that had overtaken him was gone again, several sensations in his body fighting to take control of him- and the more Dupoint screamed and cried, the less he was able to focus- the noise overwhelming him, swallowing him whole- too much, too fucking loud-

Vitali let go of the knife and balled his fist, then violently punched Dupoint on his jaw.

Once.

Twice.

Again, and again, and again-

And he felt nothing.

Vitali exhaled sharply, heavily leaning on his arms over Dupoint as his eyes fluttered shut. The room was quiet, now, aside from his own panting and the soft, distant ringing in his ears. And at the same time, everything inside of him was quiet as well, leaving only the calmness Arasaka had put there, still holding him in a chokehold.

He straightened his back again and carefully climbed off the chair, eyes slowly trailing Dupoint’s face- bloodied, beaten and bruised, mumbling to himself in French with his eyes half closed. His gaze met Vitali’s, and he briefly fell silent-

And he smiled at him.

‘I’ll break you,’ Vitali simply said in return, voice barely his own as his eyes wandered off, away from Dupoint. ‘One way or another- I will break you. And you will talk, in time. You will talk.’

He turned around and left the room, leaving his cane against the wall.

A light knock on the door.

Vitali did not even look up, chin resting on the windowsill as he blankly stared outside. There was a short pause, then another knock; and after another pause, the door slowly opened anyway, nobody in his household aware of the concept of respecting other people’s privacy.

He had not left his room anymore, after what had happened earlier that day. He had felt no desire to be around his family and had frankly wanted to leave the house altogether, but he had known better than to test his mother’s patience in the situation and had wisely decided to just stay in his room instead.

Had not bothered to clean it, though. Nadya hadn’t checked anyway.

Despite not wearing his hearing aid, Vitali could easily tell by the sound of the approaching footsteps it was his father. A little surprising, to him; Matvey rarely entered his room, and Vitali honestly did not mind that all that much, considering all the stuff he was hiding in there- and all the stuff he simply kept in plain sight.

‘You know you are no longer grounded, yes? No need to stay in your room anymore.’

Vitali said nothing as Matvey gently set a plate down on his desk before sitting down on the desk chair and leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. Vitali briefly glanced up, to look at the plate; it was merely some toast with a fried egg- just how Vitali liked his eggs- but absolutely not what Nadya had made for dinner that night.

‘She threw out everything else,’ Matvey quietly explained, noticing Vitali’s frown. ‘So I made you some dinner myself.’

Vitali finally lifted his head entirely now, exhaling sharply as he felt his throat tighten and new tears threateningly taking shape in the corners of his eyes. He reached out for the plate, about to stand up to be able to reach it- though before he could get close, Matvey was already holding it again and handed it to him.

‘You should eat,’ he said, noticing Vitali’s hesitance upon taking the plate from him. ‘You have not been eating well for weeks now.’

‘Wonder why,’ Vitali promptly scoffed. He clenched his jaw the moment he realized what he had said, and lowered his gaze. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s alright. It was not my idea, either.’

A silence fell over the room. One of many; in the past years, circumstances had caused them to drift apart, to the point they could barely hold conversations anymore. Matvey was always at work, whether he was still at home or not- and Vitali wondered what he had done wrong, but was unable to find the words necessary to bring any of it up.

Matvey reached out to him; a gentle pat on his shoulder, before he stood up again and wandered back toward the door. Vitali placed his plate on the windowsill with shaking hands and forcefully rubbed his eyes, barely able to keep his emotions in check.

It’s the silences that hurt him the most. The unspoken words, the lingering fears and worries and the wordless looks that could mean a thousand different things all at once. He tried to understand- he wanted to understand, but his parents gave him nothing to work with and they never even bothered to try and do the same for him.

‘How do you do it?’ Vitali suddenly asked, before Matvey could disappear back into the hallway. He felt his shoulders cave in the moment his father looked back at him.

‘Stay in control? Even when it is unfair? Or when it hurts?’

His father sighed softly and momentarily lowered his gaze. Disappointment, perhaps, though Vitali was too tired to try and understand what it meant. He stood up from the floor and sat down on the foot end of his bed instead- and much to his surprise, Matvey joined him there; though with a significant, respectable distance between the two of them.

‘It is never easy, I’m afraid,’ he said, eyes briefly moving toward the slightly ajar door again. ‘Emotions are- complicated. And it is very hard to control them.’

You seem to be doing fine.

Vitali decided not to say it out loud.

‘Do not waste your time trying to control the force of a wild river,’ Matvey continued, voice a little lower than before. ‘But, you can redirect it- control its flow, force it into a mold by your design. Know which reaction is most appropriate for a situation, and hold on to the knowledge you will get your moment to strike back.’

Vitali usually hated how his father spoke; slowly, and as if he was in the middle of a meeting, addressing his colleagues at Arasaka rather than his own family members. Though in that moment, it helped, in a way; a surprisingly soothing sound, one that caused Vitali’s heartbeat to settle down again.

‘You need to think ahead- plan ahead. Once you let your emotions take control over you, you lose your control of the flow of that river. You need to stay ahead of your opponent, and know that your time will come. Even if it is unfair, even if it hurts- you will get your moment to strike back.’

Matvey paused again, as if he had suddenly become aware of his rambling, and he slightly turned toward Vitali. He reached out, hand briefly lingering in the space between them; and then gently touched his shoulder again.

It was strange, to Vitali. That day they’d had more physical contact than in the entire past year altogether.

‘To stay in control- You have to hold on to that,’ Matvey quietly said. ‘Knowing that your time will come. You cannot let it get to you- let them get to you. Let them talk, let them scream- and know that in that moment, their river overflows, while yours- as powerful and as devastating as it may be- remains tamed.’

It all sounded so easy. A set of rules, a carefully planned out strategy- as if it was all merely a game to him. “Control the flow of the river”- But Vitali knew his own river was untamable, and there was nothing he could do to change any of it.

And in that moment, he had a hurricane raging in his chest.

Vitali suppressed a sob and closed his eyes when Matvey reassuringly rubbed his thumb over Vitali’s shoulder. And in a moment of weakness, Vitali leaned in- unsure what he was expecting, but desperate for reassurance, any sort of sign his father understood- a hug, even, perhaps, something his father had not given him in years-

But Matvey removed his hand from Vitali’s shoulder, blissfully unaware of his son’s pain, and he quickly stood back up as if he was suddenly in a hurry; as always, punctual and never wanting to waste any time.

Vitali pulled his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, hugging himself as tight as he could and dropping his chin on his knees. Matvey walked back to the doorway, stepping into the hallway without as much as another word; though right before he closed the door, he stopped again.

‘I know it is unfair,’ he quietly said, glancing back at Vitali, a sudden, weary look in his eyes Vitali was unable to place.

‘But your time will come, мое солнышко. Your time will come.’

Vitali was not sure how he had managed to make it back home.

He was standing in the entrance hall of his penthouse, one hand still resting lightly on the doorknob and the other holding his keys. He had arrived by car- but had no recollection of leaving his office, or the entire ride through Wellsprings.

His body was in pain.

He noticed it only now, together with the fact his cane was nowhere near him; he had left it at the office, though was not sure when exactly- and why, exactly- he had decided to stop using it.

The lights in the living room were still on, despite it being close to midnight at that point. Vitali was hesitant to walk in, though unsure why; it was his own house, still, even now that he was living together with Mikhail and Vincent, yet for some reason it did not entirely feel like that.

Mikhail and Vincent were sat on the couch together, the TV still on but its volume nearly turned all the way down. Mikhail was asleep, curled up against Vincent’s side underneath a blanket, snoring lightly with a peaceful expression on his face.

Vincent looked up the moment Vitali entered and his face lit up immediately, despite the heavy bruising still covering his forehead, temple and cheek. He carefully wiggled himself free from Mikhail’s weight, while simultaneously making sure not to accidentally wake him, and quickly stood up to walk over.

Vitali couldn’t help but notice the slight limp with which he walked.

‘Hey, baby,’ Vincent said, pressing a soft kiss on Vitali’s cheek. ‘Was starting to get a little worried. Took the long way home?’

‘Something like that, yes,’ Vitali answered. His voice sounded distant to him, as if muffled by a thick layer or fabric. He blinked, and suddenly Vincent was helping him take off his coat, and he stood in a different spot in the living room than he recalled being in only a millisecond ago.

‘Did you hear me?’ Vincent asked, briefly leaning around Vitali to be able to look at his face. ‘Vito?’

Vitali was unsure how to answer.

It had been some time since this had last happened. He still was not sure what it was exactly, but it was no doubt a remnant of whatever Arasaka had done to him. Usually he was able to push it away in time; but now it had overwhelmed him with ease, back at the office- while he had been interrogating Dupoint-

And with that it was far too late to try and resist it.

Vincent took Vitali’s hand and gave it a gentle tug, coaxing him out of the living room and into the kitchen behind them. He sat Vitali down on one of the stools at the kitchen island and quickly turned toward the cabinets, to grab a glass for him.

Vitali watched in complete silence as Vincent stood on his tiptoes to be able to reach what he was looking for; his t-shirt crawled up a little as he did, revealing the bandages still wrapped around his upper body.

Vincent’s injuries were different from Mikhail’s- with the exception of the welted marks left by a thin belt, located on their back and thighs respectively. Mikhail’s captivity had left him with small puncture wounds in the tips of his fingers, and mostly mental scarring with that; including a possible newfound fear for water, taking one of Ravager’s favorite practices into consideration.

Vincent had returned home covered entirely in bruises, with several broken bones in his body and one that had momentarily been on the outside as well. There were a few new cuts decorating his skin, too; but they had been burned shut by Dupoint before Vincent could have lost too much blood.

Vitali’s head felt heavy, all the sudden, now that the memories flooded back into his brain; but the fog thickened, calmness washing over him like a warm blanket or a gentle embrace, a quiet lullaby to lull him back to sleep-

‘Here you go.’

Vincent appeared in Vitali’s view again, startling him, and his entire body tensed up as if he was bracing himself; but Vincent kept his hands to himself, and merely set the glass of water down in front of him.

Vitali still said nothing, unable to speak as he quickly grabbed the glass and took a sip; the water was cold in his mouth and throat yet at the same time nearly burning, and he quickly emptied the glass, a desperate attempt to push away the fog- to feel something, anything again-

‘I also made you something to eat.’ Vincent gestured at the fridge. ‘Wasn’t sure when you’d come home but- I can- I can warm it up for you again, if you’re hungry.’

Vitali’s chest suddenly painfully tightened and he nearly dropped his glass. He put it down on the countertop with a bit more force than he had meant for- Vincent’s shoulders visibly tightened, but he remained calm as he shuffled a little closer to Vitali again.

‘Do I need to wake Misha up for you?’ he asked, eyes worriedly scanning Vitali’s face and hands hovering mid-air, as if he was unsure what to do with them.

‘No,’ Vitali finally managed to blurt out, voice breaking the moment he spoke. He closed his eyes, feeling the fog in his mind rapidly roll back- and instead, a tidal wave of emotions rammed into his ribcage, and a sob left his throat as he allowed himself to sink sideways into Vincent’s arms.

He didn’t deserve it.

He didn’t deserve being taken care of like this; he had done nothing but fail, had done nothing but disappoint the people who relied on him, who trusted him, and on top of it all he wasn’t even able to figure out who was behind the attacks that were causing all of their troubles.

But despite it all- despite all of his faults and his flaws and his shortcomings- despite Mikhail getting hurt because of his absence- and Eddie, and Lauren, and even Vincent himself- Vincent was still there for him. Holding him in his gentle arms, hands soothingly running over Vitali’s shoulder and softly cupping his face, and lips leaving kisses on his forehead and temple and right below his eye, kissing away his tears.

‘It’s alright, baby,’ Vincent quietly said, his breath warm against Vitali’s ice cold skin. ‘You’re safe- You’re home.’

Safe. Home.

Vitali sobbed again, hands weakly grabbing Vincent’s shirt and trying to pull him closer, as if he wanted to disappear entirely into his warm embrace. And Vincent quietly repeated himself, running his hand through Vitali’s hair and leaving another kiss on the bridge of his nose.

Vitali forced himself to look up. He reluctantly lifted his hands, barely able to keep them still as he moved them closer to Vincent’s face; and Vincent leaned in, eyes fluttering shut when Vitali’s fingertips collided with his skin and humming contently, the corners of his mouth curling up as he rested his head in Vitali’s hands.

So many things Vitali wanted to say.

He wanted to apologize- not just to Vincent, but mostly to him- to ask for his forgiveness for letting him get hurt and not coming back for him fast enough, even though he was not sure if it was something he could ask of him at all- to tell him he would never let it happen again, he would never let Vincent- or Mikhail, or anyone- get injured again-

‘I love you,’ Vitali merely whispered, another tear rolling down his cheek as he leaned forward, lips brushing past Vincent’s skin as if he was afraid they would hurt him.

‘I love you.’

[agirldying]

Day 9: Do you feel that experiencing trauma has changed you?

I actually already touched on this in Day 1's response:

"identity disturbance" - not really sure how else to label it but my trauma has forced me to change in a lot of ways, and there were also some changes that I voluntarily made to feel more comfortable in my own skin after what happened. I feel like one of the main involuntary changes is a loss of innocence. I was happy and naïve and had no concept of mental health or boundaries, and now every single one of those things have changed. I feel I have changed too much to even be considered the same person anymore, so I changed my name, pronouns, clothes, music,, hairstyle, hair color, etc. I realize now that this was all in an attempt to escape my body and the memories that I cannot shake. I thought that if I be someone else, maybe I can no longer be the person whom this happened to. But at the same time, it's not doing me harm, in fact it's bringing me comfort, so I continue to go by the new name and pronouns. I think it helps me feel acknowledged in that I am no longer the same person.

"identity disturbance" contd. - another thing about my sense of self is that, along with feeling like I am no longer the same person, I know I say things like "the girl I used to be" and while I know that this body of mine has pretty much always been the same, internally I genuinely feel like someone else assuming the identity of the person that was here before. I haven't been diagnosed with OSDD, though my therapist - who I've had for years - believes I have it. I actually have a system blog on here but I don't like plugging it due to stigma and fakeclaiming. For that reason I also don't really like publicly discussing what I understand to be my system. But that being said I am comfortable mentioning that, as someone who does not identify with the person who was inhabiting this body before me, I am still somehow able to access pretty much all the memories. System communication is virtually non-existent and extremely difficult for me to attempt, but there is occasionally passive influence, commentary, and once in a blue moon I am able to exchange brief conversation with them. Another odd thing which I don't myself understand but, not only does there not appear to be really any amnesia between us, but we're also very like, blurry, blendy, soupy in general (as opposed to completely differentiated). It's like a venn diagram where there's a lot of intersection, but it's always in motion and intersects with different circles at different times, if that makes sense.

From page 226-227 of my exposé:

I think that, especially due to all the dissociation surrounding the traumas, it’s very easy for me to make the distinction between the girl I was when Marcus dated me and the person I am today. [deadname] had brighter hopes and dreams, was too in love with reality to try drugs (a straight edge with all of the straight and none of the edge), laughed at bad jokes and trusted everyone in a heartbeat. I just feel like a ghost of myself now, hollow and emotionless, self-medicating to dissociate from the harshness of reality, but still restlessly haunting my own body with the trauma I need to put to rest. I want closure for her so I can put her in the ground and move on.

[samthetrekkie]

I'm a bit late, but I've finally managed to watch the first episode of season 3 of picard. I thought the cinematography was great in this one, especially compared to season 1. (Idk what they were thinking in that season in general.) and I'm so glad we're back in the prime universe at the "present" and just seeing what the new technology and uniforms are like, you know?

I've once seen a post about annika hansen being akin to a deadname to seven. of course that's a bit of a stretch, but I feel exactly the same way about using her birth name! and seeing how uncomfortable it makes her really highlights the level of discrimination by cpt shaw. and I have said this before but seven in a starfleet uniform is such a full circle moment for me, I could tear up.

I still don't understand though, why they have to introduce female main characters as renegades, like seven before and crusher now? probably to make them seem more "badass" - but the producers remember janeway, right? you can be in starfleet and kind of a rule follower and still be badass.

it also made me so happy when seven said that apart from picard, janeway was the one to talk her into rejoining starfleet. imagining them to reconnect is such a pure thought. I wish they would bring janeway in once, but I honestly doubt it. they could at least give us a little voyager score though, like they do with tos and tng in this!

all in all I really liked the first episode. it was very different from season 2, which I had surprisingly enjoyed, but I'm not mad they went back into the more classic star trek direction (at least in this episode). I think it would've been even greater for me, if I had recognized all the tng references - but just seeing seven being seven makes me so ridiculously happy already. I hope they don't make her all renegade in the end again, though.

p.s.: I have mentioned before how I think raffi and seven have no chemistry imo, but it is kind of problematic that the entirety of their relationship so far has only happened off season. for the second time now. again, I don't need to see their relationship unfold, but it is a bit of queer baiting to tease it and then show absolutely nothing real…

p.p.s.: I have decided against making current seven my new profile pic bc then I'd have to change my header color as well and I prefer science teal over command red, sorry :/

[a-tale-of-legends]

A little something regarding Ramona's school life prior Paldea. This might change in the feature but the layout/ theme is still the same.

TW: Transphobia, dead naming( I am actually mentioning Ramona's deadname, so please don't look if this makes you uncomfortable),implied abuse, and bullying.

Okay so here's how I think it goes down.

Ramona ends up getting bullied in the new school that she goes to post Paldea. She has to wear the boys uniform and go by her dead name. This was around the time where she was starting to feel very uncomfortable with being addressed as a boy and using her dead name( she quietly tried to bring this up to a teacher, only to be laughed at and told that "every guy thinks he's a girl at some point" and that she'll " get over it". She never got over it. But she did feel silly). So as the bullying got worse and worse and the teachers not doing anything about, one time a bully called Ramona by her dead name, and she snapped.

" That's not my name!"

This made the situation much worse. The bullies taunted her, mocking her by asking what her name was. She, at the time, didn't know, and was starting to panic, causing her to ramble and out herself as a girl. This, again, made the situation worse. The next thing she knew she was getting pushed around, laughed at, being called horrible names. She didn't know what came over her then. Maybe it was her instincts finally catching up. But when she looked down at her right fist, there were droplets of blood. When she looked up, she saw the ring leader of the bullies on the floor, nose bleeding, and starting to cry. She was expelled the following week. Her parents were not happy about that.

~~~~~

The next school that she went to lasted longer than the one before. Actually it's the longest. 4 years ( she was 10 during the last one). 4 years of hell. Both in and out of school. The bullying never seemed to stop. This time she was sure if who she was, even having a name to boot " Ramona Beatriz Navarro". The teachers this time around were more accepting. If they weren't they didn't say anything. The students were too.... didn't stop the bullying. They all heard about how she punched a kid back in her old school. The bullies took this as a challenge. It wasn't uncommon for them to constantly provoke Ramona, belittle her, make her feel like she was nothing. It was also not uncommon for there to be fights. They loved challenging her. At first, it was one sided. Poor Ramona could only take the beating. But that was when Ramona's heart became stone. She was done. Over and over again she got detention for at least fighting back. Her timid look became a permanent scowl. Tearful eyes became angry. One look from her makes you feel like you just died. And the bullies loved that.

On the 4th year, the incident happened. They all ganged up on her. She was simply walking by. She felt like she was going to die. She didn't want to die. One by one, the bodies fell to the ground, unconscious thankfully, but in the middle of it all, was only Ramona Beatriz Navarro. The teachers came. They were furious. They dared to call her by her dead name.

" My name is Ramona," she hissed. That was a mistake. A teacher's eyes narrowed at her. She felt her arm getting pulled, and she tried to move back, tried to say they started it, that she was always the victim and that the teachers didn't do anything-

" I'm calling your parents"

She folded immediately. Begged, pleaded to not do it, apologizing desperately, just not to face her parents wrath. But the teacher didn't listen.

" Then you should have thought of that before you started fighting, Miguel,"

Ramona bites her tongue hard, tasting blood. She glared down at the floor below her as she was pulled away, hot tears stinging her eyes.

~~~

She remembers her parents rampaging through her room, tearing apart all of her feminine clothes that she thought she had tucked away safely. She remembers her body burning. She did not sleep that night.

~~~

New school. Much more strict. Honestly like a jail more than anything. 3 whole years. Didn't matter. The rumors where all that she could hear now. How she beat up some kids. How she sent them to hospitals. How she was a vicious bully. A Calamity. She glared at anyone who would dare try to talk to her. She kept to herself and only herself. It was at this point where her parents seemed to have given up. She's pretty sure they ditched her. Not like she cares. Fuck them, honestly. 3 years of jail school. Someway, somehow, something that Ramona doesn't even care to remember, she gets expelled. Again.

She doesn't know any family that she could go to ( Boss of TLH is her aunt, but one of her parents and Boss pretty much cut ties a long time ago, thus making it impossible for Ramona to contact her). So she's just. Stuck.

....unless the principal gives her a final offer. Paldea. Naranja-Uva academy. They are said to have no bullying whatsoever, thus making it the best place for her. She's pretty sure what he means that in the " you are a trouble maker so this academy will set you straight" way, not in the " you have been a victim of bullying, so this will be the perfect safe space for you," way. Though she shouldn't really expect that decency from the guy expelling her.

One year later, Ramona Beatriz Luna is getting picked up at the airport by Mr. Jacq himself. She judges him immediately.

[dangerous-mess]

Holiday Troubles

Characters: Aizawa, trans male reader

Contains: Unsupportive family, transphobia, homophobia, misgendering, mentions of a deadname (D/N), mentions of religion and praying, mentions of dysphoria, angst, hurt/comfort, angst with fluff ending. This was written mainly as a comfort fic during the winter holidays but wanted to post this here (originally posted on AO3). Please read with caution as this content may be triggering for some

Word Count: 2K+ 

The holidays were always rough for you, being not only gay but transgender as well. There were the off-putting tension and feelings every time you walked in the room, and the side glances and judgemental glares that were shot your way if you were even caught wearing something feminine and not masculine. Mostly from your parents and family, feeling the obligation that you had to follow gender norms in the hope to not only pass but to be taken seriously in your own identity.

The holidays got a little easier once you married your now husband. He made visiting your family a bit easier and made the holidays in general, more enjoyable for you. This year, unfortunately, he had meetings and a nightly patrol that he couldn’t get out of, so you were left to go to the Christmas family gathering by yourself.

The day came, and needless to say, you were a nervous mess. You dressed up in a suit, something masculine of course to appease your family and keep those comments at bay. Though, you knew you weren’t in the clear as there was still a high chance of being deadnamed and misgendered by family who were unsupportive or others who just didn’t try. Your husband, Shouta, let you know before he left early that morning that if you needed anything at all to give him or Hizashi a call and they would come and get you in a heartbeat. He said Hizashi, just in case he couldn’t be reached, which was fine with you, Hizashi had become a close friend to you.

You arrived at your parent's house a little later than they asked, just cause you were nervous and needed more time to prepare for this evening. You knocked on the front door, adjusting your suit as you waited for someone to open the door, only to be greeted by one of your younger siblings. They gave you a big hug, before dragging you inside where you were greeted by family. Your grandmother was the first to deadname you. She called out as you talked to your uncle, a devious smile on her face as the name rolled off her tongue. You cringed hearing it and so badly wanted to correct her, but if your mother caught wind that you did, who knows what drama may pursue. You endured the conversation with her, as she made sure to drop in your deadname every chance she could get.

“Honestly D/N, you really should stop playing dress up and realize that you are a girl. Your husband would be so much happier to have a wife who knows her place and not some confused girl.”

You took a deep breath and bid your goodbyes to your grandmother as you went to find someone else to talk to. Eventually, dinner was called, and you all gathered around and your grandfather said a prayer. You looked down at your feet the entire time, not really wanting to participate in the prayer. Soon it wrapped up and a line formed into the kitchen to get food. After everyone got food, everyone gathered around and talked, telling stories of things that happened within the past year in their lives, as well as asking questions to others to get the latest scoop. You just decided to eat silently, trying to not participate in the gossip fest happening before you.

“So Y/N, how are you and your husband doing?” Your dad asked before he took a sip of a beer. You held up your pointer finger, signaling that you needed a moment as your finished chewing food before you smiled and spoke.

“Oh, we are doing well! He sends his deepest apologies that he couldn’t make it, hero duties called.” You smiled, taking a quick glance around the room. Some whispers were exchanged, knowing it was about you and Shouta. It was clear that besides your family not supporting your identity, they also did not support your marriage to a hero. Especially a hero who was supportive of you and your identity.

“Honestly, how she manages to keep such a hero man, is insane. Like who would wanna marry some confused lesbian?” One of your aunts spoke out. You gripped your glass tightly, biting your tongue, not wanting to start any issues.

Other family members chimed in to add on to your aunt's comment and soon it became too much. You quickly excused yourself and went to the bathroom farthest away from your family. You pulled out your phone and texted your husband. You told him that you needed him or Hizashi or someone to come to pick you up, as you originally walked, as it was nice earlier prior to the sun setting. You quickly got a reply, saying your husband was on his way, and that he was getting someone to cover the rest of his patrol. You felt a bit bad to interrupt and have him leave his patrol, but god you just needed him right now more than anything.

You hid amongst the rooms as you waited for Shouta to send you a message or signal that he was here. Your mom called out your name, walking down the hall looking for you. The smile on her face dropped as she saw you and grabbed your arm.

“Come on Y/N, we are about to exchange gifts. Stop trying to hide and be nice and spend time with your family. It took a lot of work and effort to get everyone here, like your grandparents who haven’t seen you in ages.” Your mom aggressively whispered at you, as she pulled you towards the living room. You stayed silently, hoping that your husband would be here soon.

Your mom let you go and pointed to a chair near the tree. You sat down and were handed some gifts. You slowly opened them, trying not to draw attention to yourself. The first gift was in a gift bag, and opening it exposed a colorful piece of clothing. You pulled it out and it was a sundress. Although you didn’t mind breaking gender norms, dresses were never your thing, they held too many bad memories and made you dysphoric. You frowned, not having the energy to fake a smile. You felt your mind start to spiral before a voice pulled you out.

“Oh, D/N do you not like it. I made sure to even get the right size and everything. I thought you could put that on and surprise your husband when you go home. Imagine how he would react to see his wife, finally coming to terms with herself.” Your grandmother called out, staring at you the entire time. You went to open your mouth when another voice spoke up.

“Actually, I think my husband looks handsome and perfect just the way he is in the suit he is wearing, but thank you. Maybe we can save the dress and give it to one of my students, I know one of them would get much better use of it.” Shouta’s voice boomed out, making a hush fall across the room. You never heard the front door open, but then again Shouta was very good at staying silent. You looked at your husband, feeling all your emotions and feelings starting to rise to the surface. You caught a dirty look your mother gave you as you stood up and made your way over to Shouta.

He held out his hand as you got closer and held it tightly, quickly bidding goodbye for you both as he quickly led you outside to the car that was waiting outside and still running. “I had Hizashi drive me over, hope that’s okay.” You just nodded at him, not letting go of his hand until you got into the car. As soon as you and Shouta were in the car, Hizashi sped off.

“Heya listener, how did it go?” Hizashi asked out, peeking into the mirror looking back at you.

“I lasted longer than last year, so that’s a new record at least.” You joked, trying not to cry. At least not now, you had to make it until you were home and in bed, with your husband holding you close.

Hizashi talked most of the ride home, while Shouta kept glancing back at you. You tried to listen to what was being said, but you couldn’t focus, so you just looked out the window, slightly dozing off. You woke up to the feeling of being carried, your eyes adjusted as you saw Shouta was carrying you into the house and to the bedroom. On any other occasion, if he was carrying you like this you were bound to tease or crack a joke or something, but in this moment you just stayed in his arms, gripping onto him tightly. Once you both got to the bedroom, he helped you undress and slip on something comfy. After he finished helping you, he quickly changed and climbed into bed, pulling you close to him and holding you tightly.

For a while, you just laid there in his arms, fighting back the urge to scream and cry. Though, after he comforted you and let you know it was okay to be upset and that you could let it all out. In which you did, you sobbed in his chest for what felt like hours. You screamed and sobbed and let out all the feelings you bottled up for the few hours you were at the family gathering. Eventually, you ran out of tears to cry and were only left with your own thoughts. You were overthinking, mostly dwelling on the words your family spoke out to you this evening, and couldn’t help but question if it was true.

“Sho...I’ve got to ask you something, kind of important.” You gently pushed away and sat up in the bed, looking at him. He stared at you, and nodded, letting you know it was okay to continue on. You took a deep breath and went for it, “Am I enough for you? I brought a lot of baggage and trouble into our relationship and I know it can’t be easy for you dating me, specifically with the backlash and comments that get made by my family and others about me transitioning and just. If you were with anyone else, I feel like you won’t get all this drama and I’m sorry I’ve brought so much of it onto you Shouta.”

You watched as his facial expression changed and you quickly looked away, finding interest in anything that wasn’t his face, afraid of what his reaction not only meant but the words that were about to follow. “Y/N, please look at me.” You slowly looked up and he placed a hand on your cheek. “I love you Y/N. I love you for you, you are my husband and I won’t want anyone else besides me. You are more than enough for me. And we both have a lot of baggage but that doesn’t change my feelings for you, we can work through it all together. I meant what I said in my vows and at our wedding and I still stand by it. Forever and always.”

You fiddled with your fingers before speaking up, “I love you Shouta so much, I’m just afraid one day I won’t be enough, cause as silly as it is, I don’t feel masculine or manly enough, that you’ll find more of a ‘real’ man one day and just leave me behind.” Tears filled your eyes and you looked down, just wanting to hide under the blankets.

“Y/N Aizawa, you are absolutely masculine and manly enough. I will never find anyone else or more a man than you. You are all I want, and all I need. I love you so much, don’t ever doubt my love for you, cause it is never-ending sweetheart.” Shouta spoke out, lifting your head up and placing a small kiss on your forehead before pulling you into his arms, holding you close. You just stayed there close, as Shouta whispered sweet nothings into your ear as you drifted off to sleep.

Shouta always made the holidays more bearable, but he also made life in general easier. He made waking up a little easier and helped with your hectic thoughts to calm you down. He truly was the love of your life and the best you could ever ask for. You couldn’t have gotten any luckier to have a husband as sweet and perfect as you. He may not be the number one hero to the rest of the world, but in your eyes and his heart, he was, he was your number one hero.

[ftmbitch]

okok ok ur writing is really hot, uhhh so if ur up for posting more my prompt is: being slowly forced to detransition by my trans roommate during lockdown

i love me some t4t forced detrans so you’ve asked the right guy haha 

warnings: forced detransition, dubcon 

1.4k words (sorry, my hand slipped) 

you met your roommate through some friends. a lot of them are gay, or trans. you didn’t actually know your roommate was trans at first, he passed so well. actually, you thought he was the one cishet in the group, since you knew he was only into girls, and you figured he was cis. eventually, you were looking for a place, he was looking for a place, and you ended up living together. separate bedrooms, but only one bathroom. you didn’t find out he was trans until you went into the bathroom after he had unpacked his toiletries and you saw his testosterone stuff on the shelf. you hadn’t started hormones yet, but you still recognized that stuff from your other trans friends. you asked him about it, and he was kind of surprised. “oh. yeah, i thought you knew i was trans. i mean, i came out like eight years ago, so i guess i just don’t think about it much anymore.” you were a little surprised, but it didn’t really change anything. it did make you a little more dysphoric, though. you had other trans friends close in their transition to you, and some who’d been out for years, but living in close proximity with a guy who passed so well, and had hormones and top surgery like you dreamed of, it just made you feel a little sad. you were happy for him, but you were jealous. you knew he was just living his life, and that one day you’d be just like him. 

or, so you thought. 

within your first few months of living together, you felt a little put down by him. he’d make these passing comments about your voice, your soft, hairless face, the fact that you didn’t have to shower as much as him because girls- i mean, you know, dudes who aren’t on t, don’t sweat as much. in quarantine, you couldn’t get away from it. you couldn’t go see your other pre-t friends. you just had to stay here, with him. his comments made you a little uncomfortable, but not enough to say anything. he wasn’t trying to be mean, he was just at such a different point than you were and wasn’t quite as sensitive to the pre-t struggle as he once was. that’s all, right? that’s all, you told yourself. 

one day, you walk into the kitchen to grab a snack without your binder on while he’s in there cooking. when you turn around from the cabinet, you catch him staring, mouth slightly open, at your chest. 

“sorry! sorry. i just...sorry. i didn’t mean to.” you brush it off. you sit down to watch tv, and you figure he’ll just keep cooking. then, he comes and sits next to you. “hey,” he says. “i really am sorry.” he’s sitting awfully close. “it’s just...” he takes your snack and moves it to the table. you cower back a little bit, and he gets closer. “it’s hard, you know? being in quarantine. i haven’t fucked a girl in so long. i mean, i know you’re not a girl! and i’m not trying to fuck you, it’s just...” your face drops. he licks his lips, and reaches out, and gropes you. 

“what the fuck?” you shout, pushing him back, and getting up. you walk out, but as you’re walking away, you catch a glimpse of him. he’s staring. 

you avoid him as best you can for the next two days. then, he comes into your room while you’re masturbating. “dude, get out!” 

“i just wanted to talk about...um...wow. you shave down there?” you swallow hard. for some reason, you don’t cover up. “that would make me so dysphoric. why do you do that? don’t you want to look as masculine as you can?” you don’t say anything. “i mean, listen. i know you’re not on t, and i get that, it’s a pain in the ass to get referrals and shit, especially with all the regulations right now. i just- i don’t know. it’s hard for me to respect trans guys like you. i mean, you shave your pussy, you don’t ever wear your binder in the house, and don’t think i haven’t seen your skirts in your hamper. like, why even transition if you’re gonna do girly shit?” you have nothing to say. you want to argue. everything inside you is telling you to argue, to tell him to leave, to cry, to call someone for comfort. but you don’t. 

“you grabbed me the other day,” you say. he doesn’t say anything. “i thought you were straight.” 

“i am straight. and i think you’re really hot, okay? i know i’m supposed to see you as a dude, and i try, but when you’re all...you know, like this...i mean, your tits are so nice! i kinda like it when you don’t wear your binder. it makes me horny. but, it makes it hard to see you as a dude. like, either wear your binder or i’m gonna wanna fuck you.” 

you talk a little more, and he leaves. that sticks with you. either wear your binder, or he’s gonna wanna fuck you. you’re gay. gay, right, when a trans guy likes guys. you’ve been stuck in the apartment for the past two months with this guy, and stuck in your old place for months before that. maybe some sex would do you good. but you have to pretend to be a girl? 

you don’t wear your binder after your talk with your roommate. in fact, you come out wearing a thin t-shirt in place of your normal “dysphoria hoodie” and one of those skirts he mentioned, that you only have because sometimes you need to think about gender, and visuals help. no underwear. your roommate sees you sitting on the couch, and he sits next to you. you don’t move. 

“hey. you look pretty like that.” you don’t say anything, but it feels so good to be called pretty again. all your friends call you handsome. you like that because it makes you feel masculine, but it feels fake. it feels like they’re forcing it out. this...this felt real. he really, truly thinks you’re pretty. 

he kisses you. he gropes you. he puts his hand under your skirt. you let him. you like it. 

“what’s your real name?” he whispers in your ear. 

“please,” you whisper. “please, you can touch me, but please don’t call me by my deadname. i hate it so much, i-” 

“what’s your real name?” he demands. you’re so wet. you tell him. he repeats it. he says it a few times. “yeah,” he says. “yeah, that’s what i’m calling you from now on. that’s who lives here now, okay? she’s my new roommate. and she’s so pretty...” 

things escalate. you end up in his bedroom. after you have sex, you want to call your friends and tell them what just happened. tell them you had sex with your roommate, and he was deadnaming you the whole time, and he was misgendering you. but you don’t call them. 

he keeps doing it. you never hear your boy name out of his mouth again after that. you get used to it. you like it. he makes you feel pretty, and wanted, and he’s so different from you that you feel silly for ever trying to be like him. you know if you were around your other pre-t friends you might feel differently. but you’re not. you can’t be. you’re stuck here, with him, with this masculine, bearded, flat chested, huge t-dicked man, who calls you pretty. 

this goes on for weeks. weeks turn into months. soon enough, he’s helped you buy a whole new wardrobe to wear around the house. in the house turns into online. he has you change all of your social media to your real name, and all your pronouns to she/her. he takes your phone after that, so you don’t have to talk to any concerned relatives or friends who might try to talk some “sense” into you. he likes you when you’re a girl. you fucks you when you’re a girl, and you’ve needed that since quarantine. if being a girl can make somebody make you this happy, then it must be right. 

[adhdeancas]

12x01 Rewrite with Trans Dean

trigger warnings for minor mention of dysphoria. Also minor/negligent transphobia. 

“Mom?” His heart is stopped in his chest, staring at the face he’s kept in his head for all of his life, the face he’s thought of as the only real home he’s ever had. She looks the same, exactly the same. “I… uh, are you really… real?” 

He reaches out without thinking, needing to just make sure that Amara didn’t bring back a fantasy or a ghost or a sick joke. She proves it without him touching her, flipping him in a neat trick he recognizes from his own training and ending up with her foot on his neck, pressing him into the dirt. “Where am I? Who the hell are you?”

She looks so scared. Dean swallows, his Adam’s apple bouncing against the bottom of her foot. He needs to make her trust him, preferably before she does something rash like snap his neck. “I’m Dean Winchester. I’m your son. I’m… Sam’s brother”

The pressure lets up on Dean’s neck even though Mary’s shaking her head. “No. No, I don’t have two boys. They’re- they’re just kids.”

Dean winces, breathing heavily. This is gonna be a motherfucker for her to understand. Still, Mary lets him up, and he stands and rubs his neck, trying desperately to recall every bit of information he’s stored away about his mom. “Mom. Listen to me. Your name- your name is Mary Sandra Campbell, okay? You were born December 5, 1954, to Samuel and Deanna Campbell. Your father, he bounced around a lot for, uh, work, and you bounced right along with him, and you ended up in Lawrence, Kansas.”

Mary flinches, the facts hitting straight-on. “How do you know all that?” 

“Dad told me.” Dean tells her. He doesn’t tell her that he had to gather the story from slurred words, drunken tears in between stories about the perfect wife. That he recited them in his head like a prayer so he wouldn’t forget her. “March 23, 1972, you walked out of a movie theater - Slaughterhouse-Five. You loved it, and you bumped into a big Marine and you knocked him flat on his ass. You were embarrassed, and he laughed it off, said you could make it up to him with a cup of coffee. So, you went to, uh,” God, what was the name of that stupid place? “Mulroney’s, and you talked and he was cute and he knew the words to every Zeppelin song,” A memory of a smiling young alive Mary comes to mind, and he pushes it away because it hurts. She’s right there. “So when he asked you for your number, you gave it to him, even though you knew your dad would be pissed. That was the night that -” You fell in love with- “that you met -”

“John Winchester.”

“August 19, 1975, you were married… in Reno. Your idea.”Dean had always thought that was hilarious. He looks her in the eyes again, pleading with her to not dispute the next part. “A few years later, I came along, then Sammy.”

“No, no. My oldest was a girl, Deanna.” Mary looks Dean up and down, taking in his short hair, wide shoulders, and flat chest. He crosses his arms over that now, uncomfortable, hoping she isn’t looking at his long eyelashes or his delicate cheekbones or his hips. All the places he’s insecure about. 

“Yeah, um… that’s me.” He looks up at her, his jaw clenching, waiting for the ball to drop. “I shortened the name a little, and the- uh- hair.” He tries for the old charming smile as he runs a hand through the spiky hair he hasn’t let grow out in 20 years. It doesn’t quite get there, settling at a more delicate need for approval. Mary doesn’t give it to him. “Do you believe me?”

She bypasses the question, turning her eyes away from him to look at the car behind him. Something changes in her eyes. “I burned.” She says quietly, like she’s remembering the heat. Dean swallows. He remembers the heat too. “How long have I been gone?”

“33 years.” His voice cracks. 

Mary looks back to him, and she moves forward, putting two gentle fingers to his cheek, to the freckles sprayed across soft skin. He’s had them forever, even when he was little. “Dee?” She calls him by his old nickname; Dean’s doubly thankful that he doesn’t use his deadname. 

“Hi, mom.” There are tears in his eyes.

------------------------------------------------------

“How did he die?”

Dean bows his head. He’s really not selling himself too good here, is he? First the trans thing, now- “He gave himself up for me.” He’ll be surprised if Mary wants anything to do with him. Surprisingly, she chuckles and sniffles. 

“That does sound like John.” He looks over, and she’s smiling. His brow furrows. Killing himself to save Dean’s ass does sound like John, but not in a way that makes him want to smile. “And he was a hunter? And he raised-” She stutters now, looking at him again and looking away just as quickly. “You and Sam to be-”

“Yeah, he did.” A cold weight is settling in Dean’s stomach, and he tries and fails to not let it seep into his words.

“And you said we’ve met before, when you traveled through time,”

Dean nods. It had been horrible and amazing to see Mary and have her see him, just as some guy. A guy, at all. “Twice. Your memory got wiped, so…” So you don’t remember me telling you I was your kid, and you not believing me. I do.

“And you’re… my daughter-”

Dean coughs. He hasn’t been called a daughter in a long-ass time. “No, I’m- I mean. I was. I know it’s a lot. And I’ll explain everything. I will. But right now, let’s get out of here. Let’s get you home. Come on, Mom.”

She doesn’t correct him, which means she must believe, at least a little bit, that she is his mom. 

-----------------------------------------------------

“You live here?” She looks around the cavernous space and he smiles, looking around too. It really is awesome. 

“Yeah, when we’re not on the road. It’s an old Men of Letters bunker.”

“Men of Letters?” She scoffs. Dean grins a bit and looks at her. He thinks he likes her. “They’re a myth. An old hunter’s story.”

He tilts his head. He’s just gonna keep blowing her mind today, apparently. “Not so much. New duds look good.” He gestures to her clothes. He’d lent her some extra clothes he’d had in the trunk, and he tries not to fixate on how they weren’t that big on her. He’s not much taller than her, and he knows part of that even is the heeled boots he’s wearing. 

“Well, thanks. It’s better than walking around in that nightgown the rest-” Dean’s nodding, about to say something extremely awkward like ‘Yeah, nightgowns are a bitch,’ when he finally looks at what she’s staring at, spattered on the floor of the bunker. “That’s blood.”

 “Yeah.” Dean’s heart leaps into his throat, but he goes into autopilot before he can think about freaking out. He takes his gun out from his pants and cocks it, clearing the immediate area. A blurred sigil on the wall puts another bolt of fear through his chest. “Sammy? Cas?” He winces at how high his voice goes.

He takes the Map Table’s gun out from its hiding place and hands it to Mary. She was a hunter too, and he’s not about to leave her unarmed to clear the place. “Take this. Stay here.” Dean takes off immediately. It isn’t until he’s moving on to check the kitchen that he hears the voice. Mary’s clear as a bell, saying, 

“Hands, now,”

Dean’s in the room before he can think about it. His heart practically comes undone when he sees that dumb familiar trench coat. He puts his body between Cas and his mom’s gun immediately, hoping she will trust him enough not to shoot through him. “Whoa, whoa, whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa! It’s okay, it’s okay. He’s a friend, all right?” He meets Cas’s eyes and sees the utter relief in his eyes, and a surge of warmth fills his chest. “Hey, Cas.”

It’s a lackluster greeting when they both thought they’d never see each other again, and Cas shows it when he steps forward quickly and pulls Dean into a tight hug. “Dean!”

Dean grins and pats his back. “Hey, okay. All right,” He comforts him quietly. 

“Dean, you’re alive?” Cas pulls away and looks him over, like he’s afraid Dean might disappear. Dean nods, understanding; he had done the same thing to Mary, after all.

“Yeah.”

“What about the bomb and the Darkness? What happened?”

“I’ll tell you everything. Where is Sam?”

“He’s not here.” Obviously. Dean could smack him, but his face wants to break into a fond smile instead. He represses both urges.

“Are you a hunter?”

“No, I’m an angel.”

“He’s an angel.” Dean says over Cas. They look at each other and then back at Mary. 

“Come again?”

“An angel, with a capital A,” Dean clarifies. He feels, ridiculously, a little bit like he’s showing off. Showing Cas off. “You know, wings, harp.”

“No, I don’t have a harp.”

Dean laughs. “This is Castiel. Cas, this is… Mary. Winchester.”

------------------------------------------------------

“It’s been kinda weird, here. You know, with mom being back?” And learning that her baby girl is now a full grown man? “It’s like we don’t know how to act around each other, so we just kinda make this small talk, and act like it’s normal, but it’s- it’s so not normal.” Dean can hear the pleading in his voice. 

“What has she said to you?” Cas asks quickly. Dean bites his lip to hide the smile he’s trying to get from hearing Cas get all angry and protective on his behalf. He’s reminded of the time Cas looked him directly in the face and said, ‘Dean Winchester, if anyone is ever transphobic to you, I will smite them immediately and without any remorse.’ And before Dean could make a quip about internalized transphobia, Cas added, ‘Do not make me do that to you.’

“Well, nothing. That’s- that’s the whole point.” It’s the kind of thing most people usually wanna go over, what the fuck gender their kid is? He’s pretty sure no news does not mean good news in this context.

“Okay, what have you said to her?”

“Well, nothing. I’m- I don’t know what to say to her, y’know? It’s like it’s all too much, and I don’t wanna overwhelm her.” 

“Dean, your identity is not ‘too much.’” Cas says immediately. Dean sighs. That wasn’t what he meant, even though he has said something similar before. Something when he was lonely and sad and feeling like explaining his dick to a one night stand was too complicated for him to do to even assuage it that way.

“No- I know. It’s not that. It’s… everything.”

Now it’s Cas’s turn to sigh. “Don’t make things unnecessarily complicated, as you humans tend to do. I’ll call you.” He hangs up. 

Dean lets the phone fall with his arm limp to his side. “Yeah. Great. That’s helpful.” He says to the empty air. “That’s helpful.” Asshole.

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They’re in the car, and Dean is driving, and there is too much going on. He’s not sure whether he’s happy that Cas is in the backseat for this conversation or not. “So you’re… my Deanna.”

Dean’s hands tighten on the wheel. He looks at them and ignores the voice in his head that says they are petite. Womanly. “Uh, yeah. I was born Deanna Jane Winchester.” He clears his throat and meets Cas’s eyes in the rearview. He gives him a little nod, and Dean continues. “I’m… It’s called trans.”

Dean risks a look over at Mary, and she’s playing with her ring. “So you… wanted to be a boy.” 

Dean clears his throat again. He’s pretty sure he does it every time before he talks, and he’s also pretty sure his voice gets lower every time he talks, too. He swears it’s an automatic reflex. 

“Dean’s soul is- that of a human man.” Cas interrupts, saying it like that clarifies things. The corner of Dean’s mouth tilts up a little bit. Cas did tell him that he could see his soul, and also told him that it was, and he quotes ‘A color more similar to that of a men than women.’ Which, yeah, that tracks. He guesses Cas leaves off the ‘more similar’ part to make things simpler for Mary.

“And so you…” Mary trails off, a finger pointing toward his chest aborting its mission when she realizes it might be rude. 

Dean raises an eyebrow with amusement. “Cut my tits off? Yeah.” He takes a hand off the wheel to raise his shirt, proudly showing off his top surgery scars. Mary trails a hand along them, feeling the raised skin. “After Sammy went to college. It was a bitch of a few weeks, but it was worth it.”

Mary takes her hand away and nods, brows furrowed like she’s trying to wrap her head around it. Dean grins. The grin freezes awkwardly, the edges tilting down, when Mary opens her mouth again. “So you have a-”

Cas coughs loudly in the back seat. Dean meets his wide eyes with a similar expression, and Mary cuts off the question, catching onto the fact she said something wrong. “Don’t think we really need to go there, do we, mom?”

That was a question for him and whatever lucky son of a bitch (gender neutral) ended up in his bed at the end of the night. “Right.” Mary says quickly. She turns her whole body then, asking, “Is that why you like men?”

Dean only swerves a little, he swears. The car coming the opposite direction doesn’t seem to agree, holding its horn long and hard. Luckily, it gives him a moment to stutter less obviously. 

“Sorry, I just meant- since you two are-” Mary gestures between Cas and Dean, and Dean blinks his eyes solidly, trying to convince himself this is really happening.

“No! I mean, we-” Dean doesn’t have the balls (hehe) to look at Cas in the back seat, but he can see the trench coat shifting out of his peripheral. “I’m not-”

“Was John okay with this?”

Dean laughs. It comes out bitter and dark. “Dad didn’t much give a fuck what I did with my body. He’d given up on grandkids about the time he saw how decent I was at hunting, so my long hair wasn’t a personal loss.” He knew I wasn’t gonna live long enough to give him grandkids, not without some self-sacrifice on John’s part.

Mary looks a little shocked at his outburst, and Dean almost feels bad for being so blunt and crass. But then he remembers growing up with John as his male role model, and he tightens his jaw. No, the bluntness and crassness was accurate. “Oh.”

“... Yeah.” Dean bites his lip and risks another glance at his mom. 

“So, you’re okay with this?” He waves a hand at himself. Asking if she was okay with him was just too pathetic, even for him. She looks at him uncertainly, a frown he recognizes as his own on her face.

“I don’t think I’m okay with any of this, Dean. But… I guess I’ll adjust.”