#and this isn’t even MENTIONING the dysphoria of the t-shirt

[secondstar-acorn]

why are t-shirts such a sensory nightmare if they’re exactly your size or smaller. gotta tug down the sleeves constantly. neckline is either awkwardly far down or it’s choking you. untucked they’re too long and they wrap weird around your hips. tucked they bunch up strangely and you gotta pull them back or forward every half second. they are Never correctly aligned. only slightly too far left or right. never centre. did I mention the fucking neckline?????? they’re always weirdly tight in random places and weirdly loose in others. the Standard T-Shirt Fabric is horrendous. I hate them. they’re my worst enemy.

[noisyalmonddreamer]

Coming out as trans

Request? Yes!

Characters: Percy ~ Jason ~ Leo ~ Nico ~ Frank ~ Will ~ Magnus ~ Hearth ~ Alex

"I'm trans..."

Percy

- He blinks for a few seconds

- Like you can seeeeee the gears turning in his head

- "Oh okay"

- Pretty much goes back to what he was doing - Jk but he doesn't make the biggest deal of it

- At the time

- Ones you come out to his parents

- The next time you come over

- Expect a cake

- "Congrats on coming out!"

- With your name and pronouns on it

- He's just very proud of you

- And great full for you telling him

- If you ever feel dysphoric he's there to help

- Legit anyway he can

- You also mention ones needing a binder - And he goes "I have binders at my house. Do you want some? Would they make you feel better?"

- You explain to him that it's a different type of binder

- He then proceeds to look down at his OWN chest and press his hands against his pecs

- Trying to imagine how a binder would work

- But he always has a hoodie for you

- Like everywhere

- Normally smells like him cause he was wearing it

- He at first didn't set reminders for your binder

- Mostly cause he didn't know

- But he somehow always finds a place for you to change your binder

- HE JUST REALLY LOVES YOU. OKAY? _____________

Jason:

- bby boy wasn't fully exposed to this type of thing

- Growing up with wolves do that to you ig

- So just have like a sit down talk and explain

- Eventually gets it

- He's a smart cookie

- Probably doesn't think about a pronoun and name change so you'll have to tell him

- He does the best he can to be supportive!

- He doesn't slip much, the max is like a few days he does ones in a while but after like 5 days or doesn't happen anymore

- Feels very bad after

- Again you'll have to explain dysphoria

- Even after you explain he doesn't understand so he doesn't separate research

- This caused him to do research about binding - Safest ways to bind, best binders, things like that

- Including binding tape!

- So you can train and still bind!

- Buys it for you

- And a normal binder

- Just to be safe yk?

- He sets alarms on his phone for your binding limit

- Has alarms reminding you to drink water

- If it's to hot...

- I'm sorry to say he probably will be like "please don't bind. It's not safe today"

- But will get you large shirts

- He may be a bit confused but he's trying! _____________

Leo:

- Leo is scatter brained

- "Umm what?"

- legit just didn't process what you said

- Don't take his second question as him not accepting you!

- I see him as know a lot about this topic

- Probably more than any one else in the HOO gang

- Foster care kid who was tossed around a lot

- He was probably exposed to lgbtq+ stuff from an early age

- He hugs you

- Tons of kisses all over your face

- Immediately asks your name and pronouns

- When you tell him he even makes you a custom name and pronouns pin!

- He also makes himself one

- And the rest of the seven

- And like legit all his friends

- So it's more normalized yk?

- He wants to make you as comfortable as possible

- He gets out of training all the time! So if you don't feel like training cause you're feeling too dysphoric...

- You go to bunker 9!

- He's also probably pretty aware of binders already

- Doesnt to exact logistics

- But he knows there's a time limit to wear them!

- So he builds you a mini alarm clock thing

- You can put it on your pocket and it goes off 20 minutes before you're at your binding limit (no one tell him about watches)

- He's also really good at comfort

- He's such a good boyfi _____________

Nico:

- honestly I don't think he fully knew what being trans was

- You probably need to explain it to him ones or twice so he can fully understand it

- He'll have lots of questions and will only ask if you're comfortable

- He isn't sure if he should ask you if you changed your names and pronouns so you probably have to tell him naturally

- He is fully supportive tho

- He asks you some questions and doesn't push you to answer them at all

- Now for binding-

- When you first start wearing them around him he's a bit confused

- "Ummm...is something different?"

- There is something different

- But he can't put his finger on it

- Please tell him

- When you tell him he's all like

- "Oh yeah! What's that?"

- So again you answer his questions

- And when he finds out about safely binding he goes HARD

- Keeps an alarm that's 7.5 hours. (Leaving enough time to find/go to a place to take off the binder) - Carries water

- If he sees you're over-binding he's gonna try to tell you to stop in a nice way

- V supportive bf _____________

Frank:

- he knows a little bit about lgbtq+ stuff

- Like he knows enough

- Not a whole lot

- Just cause he wasn't super duper exposed you know?

- But ones you come out-

- THE MOST CHEESY MF

- you know how Percy made you a cake

- He also made you a cake...and threw you a gender reveal party-

- "What if I threw you a gender reveal part? Jk...unless-"

- He would correct anyone that used the wrong pronouns or name for you

- Probably more then you do

- Doesnt take much time for him to adjust

- He would also go shopping with you to buy more gender affirming clothes

- He would also by you binders

- And do a shit ton of research about them

- He's also a pretty big dude so you're like

- "I'm feeling disphoric :("

- Boom. Hoodie

- Right over your head

- If you need comfort

- Boom. He is now your favorite animal

- Go to some private spot and play

- Or a fluffy animal and take a nap

- He is also there 10000% of the time If you need reassurance

- If you guys are just hanging out he'll carry around water

- And your favorite snacks

- In his own words "snacks make people happier"

- He also carries around a towel in the summer

- Cause of sweaty binding

- Ew _____________

Will:

- so supportive - Immediately asks if you're changing your name, your pronouns all that jazz.

- Even offers to take you to get your hair cut if you want a more gender affirming haircut (If you don't have one yet)

- I Lowkey think he'd be really good at cutting hair so he might even offer to cut it

- he will also keep tabs on your binder timing

- Like how long you've been wearing it, what you're doing that day (training)

- If you're feeling dysphoric and can't take it off (cause of training) he will write you a doctors note so you can stay with him

- If you're okay with him touching you he will and he'll tell you how handsome he thinks you are

- If you're okay with him kissing your like chest area he'll leave little kisses on your chest and tell you how valid you are no matter what

- He'll also keep a large hoodie with him so he can give it to you when you need it

- If it's your or his is your choice

- He also keeps sports bras with him for you

- And water

- If you're wondering where he keeps all this stuff

- He carries around a tote bag

- He has a little pronoun pin! (He/they Will lives in my brain rent free)

- Anyway

- Depending on what you like he'll call you a gender affirming nick name

- "My pretty boy"

- Stuff like that y'know

- Sweet boyfriend. Love him so much Imma cry now _____________

Magnus:  (after meeting Alex)

- his reaction is pretty calm

- Overall it's "oh okay :)"

- Asks your name and pronouns

- He already understand what being trans is

- I don't think he would know about dysphoria is though

- After explaining it he's like ":0 noooooo"

- he doesn't want you feeling uncomfortable in your own body!

- he tries his best to comfort you anyway he can

- But comfort isn't his...thing

- So he tries to make you laugh!

- He'll even...listen to Jack sing if it means getting your mind off it

- He loves you a lot

- He also didn't know what binding was

- I mean his main influence into the world of transgender was Alex

- And Alex doesn't need to bind

- So when you mention binding hes like "??????"

- Since he's you know...dead he doesn't really have money to BUY a binder

- So starts doing odd jobs for Blitzen when he can

- He thinks he's being sneaky but when he looks for binders he asks you your size

- Pretend to be surprised okay? He's trying his best!

- But overall he's a bit clueless

- But he goes to Alex and asks what he can do to make you more comfortable

- He does care a lot about your binding but he's also like "we're dead so-"

- Don't be like Magnus follow your binding limit _____________

Hearthstone: (this is after meeting Alex)

- hearth just looks at you for a sec

- Then kinda just goes

- Oh alright, sweetheart

- He also asks your new name and pronouns

- If you don't wanna tell anyone else yet he'll ask if you want him to use your ok'd name and pronouns around the others and he will

- But while you're alone he does tell you he sees you as who you are

- He also tries hard with Blitz to make you clothes that'll make you feel more comfortable

- He's not...great

- But hopefully you're only looking for baggy clothes cause that's what he can make!

- If not...he'll just ask Blitz

- Even offers to work extra hours

- He also gives you his scarf

- It probably can't help with your dysphasia but he just thinks you look cute

- He gives you his jacket if you need it though

- For binding...he wouldn't use a timer - Obviously

- He would just try to memorize when you put on a binder

- If he can't he'll ask someone else

- Not cause he doesn't trust you...just in case

- Sometimes you see him staring at you and you're like "bruh what??"

- And he's just like

- You're so amazing

- Dies

- On the spot

- He looks so genuine-

- If he finds out someone is being rude to you

- Especially a friend-

- He'll be super cold to them

- Not much he can do really tho :(

- He is super good at reassurance

- Kisses

- Lots and lots of kisses _____________

Alex: (she/her for this)

- fully understands

- Y'all would probably share your experiences with finding your identity

- If you're having trouble with something she'll explain her own experience with the thing you're struggling with

- You legit need to explain nothing to her

- Of course If you want to you can

- Would ask if you're changing your name and pronouns and immediately while you're gone would start practicing to use them (I love her so much it hurts)

- Legit will beat anyone if they mock you or misgenders you on purpose (not me attack someone for misgendering my old friend)

- If you ever need to explain something you're feeling because you're unsure, Alex will be there to listen

- Though it doesn't matter as much since y'all are dead she would still suggest not wearing a binder during training

- Alex doesnt peg me as the type to just talk about feeling dysphoric

- Mostly cause she can shape shift

- I don't think she suffers form dysphoria just cause she can shape shift but doesn't

- But will talk when you need it

- If you skip training cause you can't not bind she'll skip with you

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This lowkey flopped on wattpad so T-T

[cuttoothed]

Day 5 of @jonmartinweek for the prompt "scars". Set in a nebulous, post-finale future that may or may not take place in the same universe as the therapy fic.

Warnings: Martin is trans in this, and briefly discusses past gender dysphoria and suicidal ideation. There is also a scene where someone reacts poorly to Jon’s scars, and mention of other such instances (staring, whispering).

*

The Riverbank Cafe is their usual go-to for lunch; it’s small and cozy, generally quiet, and does truly excellent toasted sandwiches. It’s also not far to walk, which is nice on a day like today, when the air is chilly and damp.

The bell over the door jingles as they enter, and the waitress glances up from where she’s clearing a table. She’s new—or at least, Jon hasn’t seen her before—and looks more than a bit flustered by the modest lunch rush.

“Take a seat anywhere,” she calls, bustling off to help another customer. They find a table near the back and wait; they’re in no hurry. Jon is just warming up enough to take his coat off when she makes her way over to them, menus in hand.

“Sorry about the wait,” she says breathlessly. “It’s my first day.”

“No problem,” says Martin sympathetically. “First days are tough. I remember my first day at my old job, my boss was a right arse.”

Jon rolls his eyes affectionately, and tugs off his gloves and scarf as Martin takes a menu. He reaches for his own menu, and sees the waitress’ eyes widen, darting from the pale knife scar on his neck to the shiny flesh of his right hand. Her expression goes from shock to horror to pity in the space of a second.

“Oh god, what happened?” she blurts out, and then her face goes crimson and she’s looking anywhere but at Jon. “Sorry!” she stutters, “I didn’t mean—god, I’m sorry. I’ll just...I’ll come back in a few minutes.”

She hurries away, almost running, and Jon feels a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. Across from him, Martin looks furious, eyes blazing and jaw set angrily.

“I’m going to talk to the manager,” he says. “That was completely out of line!”

“It’s fine, Martin,” Jon tells him. “She didn’t mean anything.” She’s young—hardly more than a teenager—and she reacted in a perfectly understandable, instinctive way to the sight of not one but two horrible scars. Jon doesn’t want to get her in trouble on her first day,

“It doesn’t matter what she meant—” Martin begins, and then stops when Jon places a hand, the unburned one, over his. He huffs in annoyance.

“Fine,” he says. “Let’s—let’s get lunch to go though, okay? I’m not sure I can hold my tongue if we stay.”

“Okay,” Jon agrees; he’s lost his appetite anyway.

Jon isn’t vain. He knows how the scars look, and mostly, it doesn’t bother him. They don’t matter to anyone who matters to him; Martin loves him scars and all, and the friends he’s made here have never drawn attention to them or asked him to explain.

He sees people staring at them sometimes; especially children, who are too young to be polite about it. He’s heard the occasional “What’s wrong with that man?” and the whispered admonitions from parents or guardians to not be rude. For the most part, though, he can almost forget they exist, except in cold weather when his hand stiffens up, or when the deep muscle scars in his leg start aching, and he has to use his cane for a few days.

But inevitably, something always happens like today, and he’s forcefully reminded of them. Of the fact that he is wounded, damaged; of the other wounds that can’t be seen, that he and Martin both bear.

It’s not fair to Martin, either, having to put up with strangers staring or whispering when he’s with Jon. The constant, visible reminders of everything they’ve been through. Jon sees the way his expression goes hurt and closed off sometimes, when he sees the scar he gave Jon, and Jon wishes there was some way he could spare him the pain.

Jon will admit that the cafe incident throws him off kilter for the rest of the day. He doesn’t think he’s been obvious about it, however, until they’re getting ready for bed that night; he catches sight of his bare torso in the bedroom mirror, and flinches, and Martin frowns in a way that says they’re about to have a serious conversation.

“Are you all right?” he asks. Jon blinks at him, trying to look uncomprehending.

“Absolutely fine,” he says; Martin looks at him skeptically, and he relents. “I’ve been...a bit preoccupied, I suppose?”

“Moody,” Martin corrects, and Jon shrugs. Maybe.

“It’s nothing, really.”

“Is it because of what happened at lunch?”

“It’s fine, Martin,” Jon tells him. Martin raises an eloquent eyebrow, which says louder than words: I don’t believe you. Jon knows from experience that Martin won’t relent until they talk about what’s wrong; a lesson learned from therapy, and yes, it’s the correct and healthy thing to do, but sometimes Jon would like to just stew in his feelings by himself a bit, thank you very much.

He sighs.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “These—it can’t be nice, having a constant visual reminder of—of everything that happened.”

“Why are you apologizing to me?” Martin looks confused. “Those things—or, well, most of them, they happened to you, Jon. You’re the one who was hurt—who was deliberately put in harm’s way.”

“Yes, well, at least I don’t have to look at myself.”

Jon can’t keep the bitter note out of his voice, and there’s a taste like bile in the back of his throat. Martin is staring at him now, wide eyed. He sits down heavily on the bed and pats the space next to him. When Jon doesn’t move, he pats it again.

“Come here,” he says. “Please, Jon.”

Jon sits beside him, folding his arms defensively. He doesn’t want to hear reassurances now: that the scars don’t matter, that Martin loves him regardless. Even if it’s true, it doesn’t take away from their ugliness, from what they represent.

Martin doesn’t say anything immediately. Instead, he reaches down and pulls his t-shirt off over his head, leaving him in just his pajama bottoms. Jon’s eyes are drawn as always to the freckles on his shoulders, the wiry, ginger hair on his chest and belly, the softness and the strength of him. Martin takes Jon’s hand—the burned one—in his, and presses it to the pale, silvery scar on the right side of his belly.

“When you see this scar, does it remind you of the fact that my appendix burst when I was twelve and I almost died?”

“N-no,” says Jon. Martin’s told him the story, of course, but it’s an old scar, long since faded; the part Jon remembers most is Martin grinning with delight, telling him how the nurses in the hospital sneaked him extra ice cream while he was recovering.

“What about these?” Martin asks, moving Jon's hand up to his chest, to the faded t-anchor scars. “Do they make you think of how my dysphoria used to be so bad I wanted to die?”

“No—of course not!” Jon’s heart aches, and he clutches at Martin’s hand. Martin smiles.

“Good, because they shouldn’t. These scars mean I survived—I got the treatment I needed, and my life got better. I found you.”

“Martin,” Jon starts to say, but Martin shakes his head.

“I know it’s not the same. What was done to you, it was...horrifying. Monstrous. But it comes down to the same thing, Jon. Our scars might not be pretty, but they mean that we survived. You survived, and you’re here with me.” He tugs Jon’s hand up and presses a fierce kiss to the shiny, scarred skin across his knuckles. “I love them for that.”

Jon feels a lump rising in his throat, his vision blurring with tears. He wraps his arms around Martin and pulls him close, buries his face against Martin’s warm, solid shoulder. Martin’s hands pet soothingly over his back and sides, don’t flinch from the knot of scar tissue below Jon’s rib cage where the knife drove in, in those last, desperate moments.

“I love you,” he mumbles, his voice thick with emotion. It’s the only thing he can think to say. The only thing that really matters.

“I love you,” says Martin, and they stay like that for a while, skin to scarred skin.

[i-write-newsies]

A/N:

(Y/N) - Your Name

(L/N) - Last Name

(N/N) - Nickname

(H/C) - Hair Color

(D/N) - DEEZ NUTS!! /j Deadname

(E/C) - Eye Color

(H/L) - Hair Length

(Y/A) - Your Age

Ships Included:

- Jack x Davey

- Spot x Race

- Finch x Smalls (Platonic)

- Albert x Elmer

-Katherine x Sarah

- Spot x Reader (Brotherly Platonic)

- Race x Reader (Brotherly Platonic)

Summary:

You have always dreamed of living in the world of your favorite characters, to escape from whatever rotten life you have and make friends with the people you love. One day, fate decides to give you a chance. But when you're not prepared to be rushed into that universe, it becomes a roller coaster of balancing good and bad emotions and events.

Good luck, Reader!

!!TW!!

~ SELF HARM

~ TRANSPHOBIA

~ MAJOR INJURY

~ ABUSE

~ ARGUING

(Y/N) POV:

I'm (Y/N) (L/N). I'm (Y/A) with (E/C) eyes and (H/L) (H/C) hair. At least it used to be (H/L). I cut it all off today. I can tell my mom just found out because of the loud cursing and stomping. "GODDAMMIT, (D/N)!!" she yells. What scares me the most about this situation is the fact that I'm kinda used to this. I hear her coming up the stairs to my room and rush to the door and lock it. As expected, the door handle starts rattling violently, "(D/N) YOU LET ME IN RIGHT NOW, YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE SH!T!" She starts banging on the door, stressing the lock.

I sigh. Today was one of the worse days. I slip on my noise-canceling headphones and press play on my musicals playlist, consisting of:

- Waving Through A Window

- On My Own

- A Little Fall Of Rain

- Angel of Music

and of course...

The entire Newsies soundtrack.

By the time I get to 'Seize the Day', it's twilight outside. I lift one of my headphones to check if my mom is gone. I hear nothing. I look out the window and don't see her car. Perfect.

Unplugging my headphones and letting the music play, I walk over to my dresser, open it up, and reach deep in the back. Aha!

I pull out some bandages (A/N: DO NOT ACTUALLY BIND LIKE THIS OK BYE). I take off my shirt and try not to look in my mirror, fearing what sort of feminine body I may see. I start wrapping my chest to the point that it gets a little hard to breathe. This kinda hurts, but my dysphoria is stronger than my need for comfort and, let's be honest, safety.

Slipping my shirt back on, I look into the mirror and smile, satisfied with my flat chest and somewhat choppy short, (H/C) hair. I jump onto my bed and plug my headphones back into my phone which is now playing Santa Fe. Santa Fe honestly makes me think. I'm only, what, (Y/A)? And I still go through all this BS. I need out. Somewhere my mom can't tell me I'm female. Somewhere like...Newsies. I mean, Race is canonically trans, right? Not to mention all of them are definitely fruity. They'd accept me. The fresh, bandaged cuts on my arms are the only things keeping me in reality right now

As the song ends, I realize that I've been crying. God, why am I stuck in this wretched place? The question as well as thoughts of Newsies reverberates in my skull, a sort of white noise until I fall into a much-needed sleep.

"Aye, kid! Watcha doin sleepin on the street?"

"Especially in a place this..."

Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω

Jack POV:

I yawn, rubbing sleep from my eyes as the circulation bell drones on an' on. I let my eyes adjust to the view of the sunrise from my penthouse in the sky.

As I try to get up to get ready, a pair of arms drag me back down. "Jackieeee" a half-awake Davey groans, "come back down, it's freezing up here." "Dave, we gotta get to work. The boys can always count on me being at the gates early, so if you don't get up, I'm leaving you behind." This seems to wake him up a little more, "Alright, alright fine." he shivers as he gets up. I throw him his top shirt and vest and he desperately claws them on to gain warmth. Carefully, we climb down the ladder.

"What'd I tell ya, Dave? Even in the middle of summer, the night's always freezing." Davey rolls his eyes and does a little shiver "I know, Jackie, now c'mere and warm me up" I grin and move in closer, holding his hand, as we start walking to the gates. "Still not warm enough!" Davey said in a singsong-ish voice. I sigh and feign annoyance, leaning in to give a short but sweet peck on the lips. I think he's satisfied now. We're not usually this lovey-dovey, but I think we're both touch starved and subtly begging for a hug.

Davey, being the amazing boyfriend he is, stops by Jacobis to get us some breakfast. "Dave, you really don't hafta-" "I insist, Jack. After all, breakfast is the most important meal of the day," he says in an almost snobbish voice. I give him a small smile. That's my smartass Dave.

As we get to the gates, I notice a small figure leaned up against it. By now, the sun has come up some more over Manhattan 'n Dave 'n I don't have to walk as close to warm ourselves up. The figure seems to be sleeping, a newsies cap over their eyes. I think it's a kid. Maybe a new newsie looking for work?

I crouch down in front of him lift his hat, and start tapping his shoulder, "Aye, kid! Watcha doin sleepin on the street?" "Especially in a place this..." Davey notes. The kid seems to wake with a start. He rubs his eyes, and I chuckle a little "Whatsa matter? Ya look like youse seen a ghost." He doesn't seem to find this funny and repeatedly switches from looking at me then Davey with some confusion and shock in his eyes.

"I um-" he stutters over his words, "Aye, aye, kid, calm down, you ain't in trouble or nuttin." He takes a few deep breaths. "Okay... I'm (Y/N). I'm just freaking out because This isn't where I fell asleep, and- and I just- feel like I know you..." "Well, (Y/N) it sounds like you're one of da Newsies now," I say with a grin, "Now, we gots ta give you a nickname, we rarely eva call someone by their real name, 'cept Dave 'n Albert of course," The kid stays silent, clearly still shocked from waking up in a foreign place. "I feel like I know you.." he says, barely discernible. "Maybe ya do, maybe ya don't, Dave here's the only one good with faces." The kid looks up at Davey, who seems deep in thought, "(N/N)" he exclaims, "Ah, sorry, what I meant was your nickname should be (N/N)!" "I like it! But why (N/N) exactly?" I question, "Well, *insert reason why here*" "Well ain't you a clever boy, Dave!" I say, ruffling his hair. Davey shies away, "Jack! Now I have to fix my hair!" he complains, "Sorry, sorry." Davey then leaves to fix his hair in front of a shop window nearby, leaving me and (N/N) alone.

(N/N) seems to want to say something, but as soon as he opens his mouth, he shuts it just as quickly. I try to fill the awkward silence, "So, what's wit' da bandages, kiddo?" He freezes, "Nothing, just a ploy to get people to buy more papes..." he trails off. I have a feelin' he's not tellin' the truth, but I go along with it anyway, "Ha! What an idea, I wonder how I neva thought a' that before." he smiles, seeming satisfied with the praise. Davey returns from the shop window, "Alright! Ready to start the day?" (N/N) nods, and so do I.

Newsies start gathering, some glancing at (N/N) and some anxiously peering through the gates. I look at the headline for today: New Newsie Price! "Aye, Dave, you seein' this shit?" "Language- and yeah... what in the world was runnin' through Pulitzer's head when he thought of this??" I look at (N/N), whose mouth is a thin, pale line but whose (E/C) eyes are glinting with determination. "Heh, kid, what's that look for?" He looks at me, a little startled, but quickly regains that same tough expression, "I have a feeling that this ain't some silly little joke. And I'm worried 'bout the kids that may get hurt in the crossfire." I laugh, "Youse just bein dramatic! Surely, they wouldn't be as dumb as to underpay their own employees." I walk over to Weasel and slap down a penny "100 papes please!" "That's gonna be dime, Kelly."

My heart almost stops, and it takes all my strength not to break down in front of the boys. I fake a laugh, "Surely you're joking." "100 papes costs a dime, take a look at the headline." I hit the money box out of anger, "Then we'll just take our business to Brooklyn." Someone pipes up, "The same thing's happenin' there." "Then we'll go to Rushing!" Specs jogs over, seemingly out of breath, "I'll save ya the walk; it's the same everywhere."

Fuck.

Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω

Y/N POV:

A sharp pain in my chest temporarily distracts me from the situation at hand. Ah. I almost forgot. I still have to bind. This sucks. I feel a pair of eyes on me and turn just in time to see Racetrack Higgins avert his eyes. I give him a confused look and turn back to Jack singing "The World Will Know" I forget all about his weird staring and get back into the determined beat from before.

Soon, the newsies and I make our way to Jacobis for some...water I guess? I do happen to have some extra money in my pocket so I think I can treat all the boys to some seltzer. I sit down on a hard wooden chair in a slouch. The room is buzzing with excited talk of the strike. I give a small, sad smile. These boys have no idea what they're getting themselves into. Crutchie sits next to me serving a wide smile just as Jacobi enters with a tray full of waters, "And here's one for you, and for you, and for you- who's the big spender that ordered everyone seltzer?" shyly, I raise my hand, "That's me, sir." "You know these cost a quarter each, right?" I pull out a handful of quarters with a cheeky smile "and I got more where that came from." The boys go wild, "Where did ya get all that money, kid??" Davey, being the concerned mom, asks "Please tell me you didn't steal that." I shake my head, "I used to live comfortably, but my mom kicked me out for...reasons." my grin falters for a second, but no one seems to notice.

"Well!" Jack stands on a table, "Here's to the strike! And, of course, (N/N)" He gestures towards me with a wink as everyone cheers. As Katherine enters, I start to zone out and stare at a speck of dust on the ground. After all, I know the plot all too well. I perk up, though, as soon as Jack asks who's goin' to Brooklyn. My hand shoots up, "I nominate me and Race!" I exclaim. I look over at Race, who's staring at me, blushing and jaw dropped a little. I grin at him and look back at Jack, who's a little shocked. "A-alright! Me and Dave'll take the Bronx, I guess."

*Timeskip to after the restaurant scene*

I walk down the Manhatten alleys blindly, no clue where I'm going, when I hear someone come up behind me. "Hey, (N/N)! It's me, Race." I smile weakly, "Oh, hey." "I always sell my papes at Sheepshead in Brooklyn, so I know where to go."

It's almost completely silent except for the clicking of our shoes on the paved roads. "So... how'd ya get here as a Newsie, (N/N)?" "Well, Jack 'n Davey found me sleepin' on the street just this mornin'" He laughs, "Wow! So you got used to the Newsie life real quick!" "Yeah, I did.." I let out a small chuckle as well. Race pulls out a cigar and clamps it between his lips and goes to light it but hesitates. "Uh- Wanna cigar?" "Wow, Racetrack Higgins giving me one of his own cigars? I'm flattered!" I joke, "But, yeah, I need smoke." He digs into his pocket and hands me another cigar, "You eva' smoked before?" he stares at me as I put the cigar in between my lips. I grin sheepishly, "No." "Okay, maybe we should stop for a second. Coughing while walking ain't the most fun thing in the woild."

We lean up against a wall as Race lights first his, then my cigar. I inhale and immediately spiral into a coughing fit. Race smacks my back, "You good, (N/N)? I ain't neva' seen a fella cough that hard on the first puff." I roll my tear-filled eyes and continue coughing.

Once my coughing fit subsides, I feel a wave of relaxation. "God I should do this more often." I groan, Race grins, "Yeah, once you get past the whole blowin'-your-brains-out part of smokin', it's real nice. Anyway, shall we continue?" he gestures to the streets ahead. I nod my head and take another puff, "Yeah, it's gettin' kinda late and we do NOT wanna wake up the Spot Conlon." Race nods in agreement and we hurry along. Even though I know Spot is kind of a softie, that doesn't stop me from being intimidated by his prowess.

We reach the Brooklyn lodging just as Race's cigar burned out. Race takes a deep breath and gives three solid knocks on the door. A kid younger than me answers the door, "State ya business" "I'm here to let Conlon know about some very important news." The kid squints his eyes but responds "I'll ask him if he's willing to meet with anyone right now. Who should I tell him is askin'?" "Race. Higgins." He says somewhat awkwardly.

The kid closes the door. Race and I stand quietly waiting for the OK to see Spot. Suddenly the door swings open to reveal Spot. "Ra-" he notices me and coughs, "I mean- Higgins, would you like to step in to discuss the important news?" I almost laugh at the way he went from totally in love to distinguished gentleman. I shoo them away, holding in laughter, "don't worry, I'll wait out here and give you lovebirds some space." (A/N: or should I say sprace) I see them both go tomato red.

I sigh as they head inside. I take a drag from the cigar and start thinking. How did I end up in the newsies universe and act this calm about it? This feels so surreal. But I want to stay here forever. Far away from my sh!tty mom and all my responsibilities.

Lost in my own head, I barely notice as Racetrack storms out of the lodging, clearly pissed. "C'mon (N/N), we're leaving." he grabs my hand and angrily powerwalks to the next street over. Once we're there, he lets go of my hand and sighs harshly, walking slow. "I assume it didn't go well?" I ask, already knowing the answer. "Not. Well." "Wanna talk about it?" he shakes his head and starts walking "No, thanks. I think we's better get to bed before Jack gets worried." he stops. "Do you have a place to sleep?" I look down, "Not really..." "Well!" he grabs my hand again with a big grin, "Looks like youse bunkin' wit' me." I start to protest, but realize it'd get me nowhere with this stubborn SOB, so I let myself get dragged along. Oh, well. I might as well get rest for the strike tomorrow, goodness knows I need it.

As I settle down into the rough sheets, the gentle snoring rocks me to sleep with thoughts of the strike. One thought flashes through my mind before I fall asleep; God help us all.

I wake up to someone poking my face. My eyes flutter open and I almost fall off the bunk at the sight of Race's face right in front of mine. "JESUS CHRIST, RACE, YOU SCARED THE SH!T OUTTA ME!" He backs off, putting his hands up in surrender, "Sorry, sorry, it's just that Jack said you had to be up and out in 10 minutes so we can have an organized strike or whateva'" Race rolls his eyes, "I'm startin' ta think that Davey's rubbin' off on 'im a lil' too much."

I groan, tempted to slide back under the covers, but get up anyway. I slept with my clothes on so I don't have to do anything about that. As I look into an old, rusted mirror and comb my fingers through my now tangled hair, I feel another sharp pain in my chest, accompanied by a dull throbbing. I really should have taken off the bandages while I slept, but now it's too late. I take one last look in the mirror and, ignoring my eyebags, quickly head out the door to join the others. As I get to the gate, everyone's waiting with anticipation, faces grim but hopeful.

Everything happens in a blur. One moment we're striking, and the next we're beaten into a pulp. I manage to soak a Delancey in the eye when suddenly a familiar sharp pain fills my chest and wince, faltering. Morris takes this as an opportunity to knee me in the stomach, forcing me to the ground, where their take turns kicking my chest and body with those damn steel-toed boots of theirs until my clothes are torn and the cuts on my arms reopen. Suddenly, there's a small crack as my body swells up with pain and the taste of metal enters my mouth. I let out a blood-curdling scream as the pain registers in my brain. In my blurred vision, I see the Delancey's walk away, ready to torture their next victim; Crutchie.

I try to get up and reach out, try to scream at them not to hurt him, but all I can do is weakly move my hand in their direction and spit out blood. Suddenly, a small but rough hand reaches out and drags me into an alley. "Dammit, (N/N) what were you thinking?! Fighting in a gawddamn binder, and a makeshift one, no less!" "R-..Race..?" "Not now, (N/N) I have ta get youse to safety foist." I watch as he chews on his nails in thought, "Dammit! The only way back to tha lodge is through the Delancey's again!" He sighs. "Brooklyn it is..." He gingerly picks me up and carries me as fast as possible to Spot's turf.

Setting my feet on the ground and propping me up against him, he bangs on the door. "Spot!" Please! This is serious, I need your help!" I can hear the tears in his voice. Spot flings open the door, obviously very concerned. He's confused for a second, then looks at me and his eyes go wide. "GET THE MED KIT AND A COT OPEN, WESE GOT SOMETHING HORRIBLE THAT'S HAPPENED" he yells behind him. Race, now more calmed down, takes me in his arms again, but seems to refuse to look at Spot, who looks away as well, but more in shame.

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Race POV:

I watch as some of the Brooklyn newsies take (N/N) and lay him on a cot, anger surging through my veins. I take a deep breath "I'll take care of him. You guys don't have to worry about it." As they leave the room, I look down at (N/N) and can't help but feel guilty. Like this is my fault. I only got away with a black eye, but he got all this?

I regain my composure and start by taking (N/N) shirt off. I can already see the bruises starting to form and cringe. I take off his binding bandages and see his chest expand immediately. Poor kid. He must have been hurting in more way that just one. I take the gauze from the wooden box and gently wrap his torso with it. Maneuvering around his arms, I notice something. The bandages on him arms. When he was wearing them before, Jack said it was a marketing ploy, but now I see red bleeding through the white gauze.

I unwrap (N/N)'s arms and gasp. Hundreds of tiny, but deep cuts litter his forearms and wrists. F#ck. He was hurting so much more than I could have ever known. I wrap them with fresh gauze and treat the rest of his wounds, stepping back to admire my handiwork. That's when I start to cry. Full-on tears falling, face in hands crocodile tears. I turn my head with a start to see Spot, standing over me with a hand on my shoulder, looking apologetic "I'm so sorry..." Suddenly this sadness turns to rage. I grab him by the shirt collar and drag him outside to an empty alleyway. "SORRY?? SORRY, MY 4SS! (N/N) AND SO MANY OTHER 'HATTEN NEWSIES ALMOST DIED OUT THERE BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T WANT TO JOIN UNTIL YOU KNEW WE WOULDN'T "CAVE" WELL, WE DIDN'T CAVE, AND LOOK WHAT F#CKING HAPPENED! AND DONT YOU SAY SORRY TO ME AND EXPECT ME TO FORGIVE YOU JUST BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, THAT'S FOR CROW TO DECIDE." Spot seemed silent at first, but now I could see his anger building up; "WADDAYA THINK WOULD O' HAPPENED TO MY BOYS, HUH?? I WANTED TO WAIT TO SEE IF WE WOULD BE THE ONLY ONES FIGHTIN IN THIS BATTLE AGAINST PULITZER."

I open my mouth then close it. He has a fair point, but doesn't he trust me and the udda newsies not to bail in their hour of need? I sigh, pinching my nose. "I'm sorry Spot, I just-... I just wish you trusted me a bit more..." I look up at him to see tears in his eyes. "OH, SPOT HONEY, ITS OKAY, I'M NOT MAD, DON'T CRY, DON'T CRY" I shush him, pulling his head into my chest, which isn't tough considering his height.

As he lets go, the adrenaline rush from today dies down. God, I'm so tired. My knees nearly buckle and Spot notices, "Aye, aye! Tony, you doin' okay?" I nod at him, but the bags under my eyes are making them droop, "Race, honey, you need to get some sleep, okay?" I shake my head but soon fall into Spot's arms as my legs give way. "Fine..." I mumble. I can feel him grinning, "Good, we gots an extra bed for youse to sleep in." I sigh, grateful. I can feel Spot picking me up, the rhythm of his boots tapping along the ground, a pause and shift as he opens the lodging door and kicks it closed behind him as I fall asleep.

I wake up in a cold sweat. (N/N). I need to see (N/N). I need to check if he's okay. I climb out of the bed Spot laid me in and let my eyes adjust to the dark before maneuvering around all the other sleeping kids. I make my way as quietly as possible to where (N/N) is resting. I crouch down and take his hand in mine. How could I let this happen? And how did I not notice his suffering? I press the back of his hand to my forehead, closing my eyes. My body is so tired right now, but my mind is too tortured with guilt to let me sleep.

By the time my thoughts finally leave me alone, the sun is rising in the sky. I'm finally drifting when- "Race?" I turn my head to the voice, "Oh, jesus, you look horrible!" Spot exclaims, "did you even get any sleep last night?" I shrug, to be fair, I lost count of the hours. Spot sighs, "Race...go sleep. At least for a few more hours. I can watch (N/N) if that makes you happy," I nod, rubbing my eyes. I stumble back to my bed amongst all the Brooklyn newsies and fall asleep the moment my head hits the pillow.

My mind dreams of talkin' cigars and bloody bandages. I see Crow propped up against the wall, smokin' a cigar. "(N/N)! (N/N)! Oh my god, I'm so happy that you're okay!" (N/N) doesn't answer, I slowly starts walking towards him, "(N/N)...?" he starts laughing. Softly at first then roaring, and the laughing turns into a heavy coughing fit. As (N/N) coughs, red smoke pours out of his lungs and clouds my vision. I swipe at the air, trying to brush away the fog, "(N/N)?? (N/N), where did you go?!" suddenly, the smoke clears and I see (N/N) bruised, damaged, bleeding body at my feet, I gasp and step back. (N/N) slowly turns to face me, and in a painful, teary, almost sickly whisper asks, "Why did you let this happen?" Tears start spilling down my face, "I- I didn't me-" "You did this to me Race. Race. Race. Race! Race! RACE! RACE!--

Spot POV:

--RACE WAKE UP!" He wakes up with a gasp. He looks around wildly, tears dripping from his chin. I've never seen him like this. He must care for him like a brudda. To be honest, I'm worried as well, not only about (N/N) but now that we know 'Hatten isn't gonna back down and we join the fight, what's gonna happen to the newsies in general? Kids could get hoit. Bad.

"Spot?" Race starts sobbing, clinging to my shirt fabric, "Please...tell me it'll be okay..." I can't. Race, I don't know if it will. I almost start sobbing on the Spot ( A/N: heh...), but I hold my composure and smile at him, "It'll be okay, Tony...we're all gonna be fine" He seems to believe this, at least a little bit. "Now, don't you gotta meet up wit' da udda newsies?" He retracts his head from my chest, eyes wide. In a nasal voice, he goes "AW SHOOT, I 'MOST FORGOT" I watch him with a small smile as he rushes to get dressed like the goof he is. God, I love 'im.

Race POV:

Silence. I got there too early. Fuck. I can't just be alone with my thoughts, but at least I have some extra money to... I don't know? I walk up to the bar, where the owner of Jacobi's is cleaning out glasses. I sigh and sit down, "Got anything to help forget? At least for a little while...?"

"Ain't you a little too young for that, kid?" I give him a look and push my money over the counter to him. He quietly collects it, "So what can I get ya?" I'm silent for a bit "Fireball." I say with some demand in my voice. He disappears behind the counter and comes back with some shot glasses and a Fireball bottle, pouring it out into the glasses as I watch. I notice as he sighs, "Feel betta, kid." Can't promise that.

I pick up a shot glass, watching as the orange liquid spins around in it. I take in a breath of spicy cinnamon before letting the liquid slip down my throat, leaving a trail of a burning sensation. Soon, one turns into another, and another, and another and before I could comprehend it, the room starts to spin and blur. Eventually, the room fills with newsies, mumblin' 'bout how crappy the strike went. I do my very best to fit in and not act drunk, but the time zooms by and I find myself singin' 'bout bein' the king o' new york. At some point in the blurry memory, Katherine suggests getting drunk and I throw my hands up and cheer. More free Fireball! But then she clarifies that it was a metaphor, to which I am very disappointed.

The rest whizzes past me and soon I'm stumblin' my way to Brooklyn. I knock heavily on the lodging door, then lean on it. Unexpectedly, the door opens and I'm left to fall flat on my face at the feet of my boyfriend, Spot Conlon. "Race! Darlin', you okay? Youse fell flat on ya face!" He extends a hand that I receive and pulls me up. I giggle, "Ahhhh, my Spotty! Always carin' 'bout uddas. Pshht! Yeah, I'm fiiiine." I flop my hand down to wave off his concern. He wrinkles his nose, "You reek of cinnamon....and alcohol." He widens his eyes and I let out anudda giggle, "Race! Tell me you didn't jus' get drunk!" he whines, I grin, "Okey, 'you didn't jus' get drunk'" I imitate him in a deep voice and he sighs, "Jesus Christ, Racer.." he grabs my hand pulls me inside, eventually laying me on a bed, face red with a giggling fit. "Goodnight, my liege," I giggle some more, "and you my Prince," he gives a small smile before covering me with a blanket. I fall asleep before it's up over my shoulders.

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I wake up with my head feeling like it's going to explode.

Fuck Life.

I groan and sit up. "Mornin' Sleepin' Beauty" Spot smirks and hands me a cup of water, "Shut the fuck up" I whine and grab the glass, "Ooh feelin' feisty today, huh?" I shoot him a look that could rot a squash with one gaze. He holds up his hands in defense, "Alright, alright, my bad," He shrugs. I sigh and take a sip of water, which turns into me chugging the whole thing. "You betta get ova this hangover fast, hon" I groan, not ready to do anything at all today, "We gots the meetin' wit' Jack."

End my life.

"No, I don't think I will," "fuuuuck did I say that out loud?" I let out a small wail, and Spot chuckles a little, though you can tell there's somethin' on his mind still, "Yeah, ya did sweetheart." I grumble something incomprehensible and look down, red. He smiles, "Get dressed and drink as much water as possible, okay? We can't have you hungover for the big meeting, right?" I nod...which causes my head to hurt. Ow.

I sigh and decide to take my sweet time getting dressed. This sucks. "Spotty!" I call, then cringe after a new wave of pain hits, he pokes his head through the door "Yeah?". "I don't have the energy to deal wit' all dese gawddamn bandages. Help me?" He blushes a bit but agrees to help me bind. All I focus on is not hurting my head again. Spot ties the bandages and stands back to admire his handiwork but quickly notices my cringin'. "Do you want somethin' cold?" he asks gently, I nod as gingerly as possible.

*Timeskip to after the newsies meet n greet bcuz I'm power-finishing this at 12am and my mental health is steadily declining*

My hand shakes as I bring a fresh, unlit cigar to my lips.

Jack. That sellout, that traitor.

A sharp pain knocks me out of my angry thoughts. Ah. I burned myself.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, "Racer.." says a gentle voice, "You okay? that's your 3rd cigar in the past 2 hours or so." I look up to see Finch leaning over me as I sit on the ground, a concerned look on his face, "You're gonna run out all too soon" I give a bitter laugh, "Yeah, I guess I will." Finch can see that there's not much he can do to help me. He gives a weak smile and turns to walk away.

I see Davey run off somewhere. I wonder where they're going? I sigh and turn my head back down to the ground. Who cares? Without a leader, the strike'll just fall apart and Pulitzer'll win. Who was I kidding when I bragged abt being da "King o' New York"? I'm just some nobody kid without a nickel to my name. The bigger guys always win, so what's with me tryin'?

Jack POV:

I can't let any more kids get in this much danger. I visited (N/N) today. I found out about all his... injuries, as well as whatever he was born as. He's been through so much before all this, he doesn't deserve it.

It's my fault for being so ignorant. For not noticing anything was goin' on. My fault for inciting this stupid strike. For getting all these kids hoit. and Crutchie...poor Crutchie, locked up in that godawful place. I know he ain't helpless, 'e's a cheeky little bastard, I'll give him that, but the Refuge breaks down even the biggest of smiles and smothers the brightest of people. I will never forget that hell I went through. I went in a cheeky fightin' kid with a deep, strong flame, and came out with the embers barely glowing. It took years just to spark it up again. I'm terrified as to what'll happen to him.

I lean over the railing of my penthouse, not even noticing as it shakes and squeaks, making way for a young boy a little younger den me. "-Jack! JACK!" "Jesus Christ, yeah??? Oh, it's you, Dave..." I look away shamefully, he's probably here to chew me out and tell me we're done and gone. "What the hell was that?" I wince, I knew it. "Waddya mean 'what the hell was that?'?" "You know what I mean, JACK KELLY." I'm fucked. "YOU BETRAYED US FOR MONEY?!" "I WOULDN'T HAVE FELT PRESSURED TO IF I WADN'T DEALIN' WIT' A FLAKER!" Davey gives a bitter laugh and balls up the front of my shirt in his fist, tugging me towards him. "Ohoho! And if I wasn't your 'best friend' you'd be lookin' at me through one swollen eye!" "Oh, yeah? Well, don't let that stop ya, huh? Gimme your best shot!" something soft roughly pressing against my lips. The only thought at the moment is; 'Well, this is new... and passionate, 'specially from Dave' there's a heavy, awkward silence.

I back away from him, knocking over my drawings in the process. One specific drawing rolls out seemingly by fate. It taps on Davey's shoe and he looks down. His eyes widen a little as he reaches down to get it. "Is this.. the Refuge?" he puts a hand over his mouth, "weren't you stuck here once? Rats, cockroaches everywhere, 6 kids to a bunk? Holy fuc- I mean fudge." If the moment weren't this tense, I might've laughed. "Jack..." I feel a hand on my shoulder. "You don't have to tell me if you're not ready." I shake my head and he drops his arm understandingly. "Either way, we could use this. Heck..." Davey seems deep in thought before his face lights up, "We could make our own newspaper!" I look at him in disbelief, he notices, and speaks again "think about it, Jackie! Kath's a real talented writer! This art could change the perspective of hundreds! We could write to tell all the workin' boys to go on Strike tomorra'! And we could expose Snyder in the process!" Hey, that's not too bad..."But, Dave, how're we gonna print it?" His face falls, "I didn't think about it...we're banned from every printin' press in New York.."

Oh no. Ohhh no. "No. Noooo." I whine, Davey chuckles, amused "what?" "I know a printin' press that no one would ever think of!" Davey grins, "Then what are we waitin' for?" He puts my drawing back into the case, and slings it over his shoulder, getting ready to climb down. Suddenly, a thought strikes me, "Wait-" "Yeah?" "Dave- what are we exactly? Like I know how we act to each other n' everything, but we've never really said out loud what we are..." Davey giggles, "Jackie-" "No! Tell me right now, are we... in love? Boyfriends, I guess?? Or am I just something for your own experimentation?"

He cups my face in his hands, "Jackie..." he kisses my nose, "Of course I love you! And yes! We are in love! Dating! Boyfriends! Whichever way you want to define us!" Soon we're both grinning ear-to-ear and blushing. "Now!" he exclaims, hopping up, clearly on a high from the whole kiss and convo, "Let's get to it!" I laugh and stand up as well, following my over-enthusiastic boyfriend down the ladder. As Davey said; Let's get to it!

(Y/N) POV:

'My head hurts...' I think groggily. I try to open my eyes, but my vision is blurred and wonky. I sit up. Nevermind. Everything hurts. As my vision starts to clear, I see a very tired Spot Conlon sitting in a chair in the corner of whatever room I'm in rubbing sleep from his eyes. He fixates his eyes on me for a second, and I can see the sleepiness and confusion in his eyes turn into shock and joy. "(N/N)! Ohmygod! I'm so glad you'se awake!" I can see him go to wrap me in a bear hug before holdin' himself back after he remembers all my injuries. Wait. My injuries. "Does this mean you know about...?" I vaguely gesture to my arms and Spot nods sadly, "And..." I cringe and gesture to my chest, now only lightly bound with medical tape, but tighter than needed for a typical injury. I smile to myself. That must've been Race. He's like a perfect older brother, not only thinkin' about my physical health, but also my mental well-being.

Spot notices the look on my face and sees me lookin' down at my chest, he chuckles, "Yeah, Race decided on that. He wanted you to feel as comfortable as possible while you heal." I start grinning even harder. Spot spoke up again "Don't forget that even boys born seen as boys don't have perfectly flat chests, so binding as tight as you did wasn't necessary or safe, for that matter." I give him a look, is Spot really trying to be the cis savior right now? He gives me a look right back, "What? I know what I'm talking about." He lifts his shirt up to reveal two scars on his chest. I gasp, "But you're only *insert years/months* younger/older than me! How did you even know that this was an option, as well, how did you do it?" He smirks, pulling his shirt back down, "Thought so. Anyway, I don't really know. I needed them off desperately and randomly thought of it. As for the how, Buttons is AMAZING with scissors and blades. Like, scary amazing." He shivers. I blink. Damn.

He gives a shy grin "Do I really pass that well?" I look at him enviously "Of course! But... how do you look so...masculine?" "Well, I tried my best to copy the behavior of other boys I saw. And the whole working out didn't hurt." I nod, taking a mental note. Behavior, got it. Can't promise sticking to a workout, though. Spot scoots closer, taking my hand in his, "But the most important thing to understand is- behavior, body type, and a powerful reputation doesn't define being a true boy. What does is what's in here-" he taps my head, "-and here." he points to my heart. Spot looks me in my eyes, "You could wear dresses, skirts, use a 'girly' name, hell, even go by she! and you'd still be a boy in my eyes." I feel my eyes water, and Spot opens his arms to me with a sincere look. I fall into his arms and cry tears of joy. Spot and Race are the older brothers I never had, helping me at every fork in the road of my transition.

(A/N: I noticed that a big issue in trans fanfics was that the cis person was always the one to condescendingly teaching the helpless trans kid how to bind properly. I decided to make both of your mentors trans, had them both know what they're talking about, and made sure that you weren't completely useless or clueless, only that you needed guidance seeing as (Y/N) is a trans kid with no former knowledge about his transition. As well, I kinda wanted this fic to be of help to any newcomer trans men. Anyway, on to the last of the story!)

"So how are your ribs feeling?" Spot asks after we both calm down, "A little sore, but pretty much moveable. Is it really this painful to bind? I mean, the past few weeks I had the binding stuff on was my first time." "It shouldn't, I mean, lookit Race. He seems energetic and flexible even when he's binding." I think he sees my insecure face because he speaks again, "What I mean to say is- if you have more experience binding, you'll know how to mix mental and physical comfort. Either way, what fucked up your ribs wasn't the binding, it was the Delancey's. Not saying the way you were binding wasn't bad and wouldn't have caused lasting damage, of course."

I see Spot have a flicker of thought behind his eyes, he pulls out an obviously stolen silver pocket watch with the initials H.A. engraved on it to check the time. "Almost time..." he mutters. I give him a suspicious look, "Almost time for what...?" he looks sheepishly at the ground, "Nnnnnothing." I let out a noise halfway between a snort and a scoff, "Uh huh." "Fine." he sighs, "All the newsies and workin' boys is comin' together today. We'se hopin' ta finish up this strike Once And For All."

"Let me guess, I shouldn't go because I'm still healing." He nods, "Spot!! I need to do my part in this strike! I can't miss the most important day of my life." he gives me a weird look, "You don't even know what the outcome'll be, plus I promised Race that you wouldn't get hurt." "Please, I've been bedridden for WEEKS. And I won't get hurt" I protest stubbornly, he sighs exasperatedly "FINE, but I'm gettin' you right outta there at the foist sign o' danger, okay?" "Okay!" I say, content with the compromise. "We should prolly get you up and used to legs again before the strike--" my stomach rumbles harder than Les when he sees the chocolate croissants in the Pastry Shop window, and that's seriously saying somethin', "--and something to eat, too."

Spot holds my hands as I get out of bed and basically learn to walk again with wobbly legs. You could just paint my back with spots and call me a baby deer. Once I get my legs to work with me, Spot leads me to a tin tub. I give him a 'seriously?' look, "What am I doin', goin' ta church?" he laughs sarcastically, "Ha, ha. (N/N), you haven't cleaned yourself since the last time you were conscious. I also need to refresh your bandages since those haven't been touched since Race changed them in the foist place." "Fiiiine" I growl.

Spot unwraps my arm and chest bandages, but when it comes to me taking off the rest of my clothes, he looks away (not even for my privacy, but just because he is highly repulsed to the idea of naked bodies) I add enough soap suds on top of the water to cover my body so he's comfortable.

He grabs some soap and lathers up my hair with it, soon rinsing it. He also lathers and rinses my face, removing the built-up dirt, grease, and sweat, which accumulated surprisingly quickly for only spending a month, or was it two, here. Spot brings out a small piece of scrap fabric and a bottle of some liquid, then gently grabs my arms. "This might burn a little," he said empathetically. He dampened the cloth with what I am assuming is disinfectant and started pressing it against my healing cuts. I tried to hold in my pain but let out a small hiss when the cloth reached the deeper cuts on the backs of my arms. Spot stopped temporarily, letting my arms adjust to the sting a little, before continuing. Once he's finished, he hands me the soap and leaves the room to let me bathe myself in peace and picks up my dirty clothes and old bandages. "Holler if you need anything!" he yells on his way out.

I create a lather in my hands and stand up so I can actually wash my body. The air is chilly compared to the bathwater, so I do my best to be quick as I let my soap hands travel gingerly over my body. I look down, and for the first time in a long time, I don't feel ashamed. Spot words echo in my mind as I smile softly; 'You could wear dresses, skirts, use a 'girly' name, hell, even go by she! and you'd still be a boy in my eyes.' I guess, for now, I'm confident in my masculinity.

I sit back down, enjoying the warmth, and rinse myself off. I step out of the bath and look at the grey-ish brown-ish water. Ew, was I really that dirty? As the cold air envelops me once more, I realize I don't have a towel. Or clothes. "Spot!" I call out, "Yeah?" I hear a faint voice, "I need a towel and some clothes!" I answer. There's quiet, then a series of rustling sounds that slowly get closer. The door opens a crack and I see a tan, muscular hand slide a pile of clothes and a towel in my direction. I smile gratefully, "Thanks, Spotty!" "Aye! Only Race can call me dat..." "Okay, fine."

I dry my hair as much as possible, before continuing to my body. There's not much actual rubbing rather than patting because of my injuries, so when I get my pants on and slip my button-down onto my shoulders, they get a little damp. "Spot?" I call out again, "Do you think you could help me with my bandages?" "'Course!" He casually picks up the chest bandages and binds it pretty much perfectly- Tight enough to make a difference in my chest size, but loose enough to let my ribs heal. Spot then starts re-bandaging my arms, "Can I ask you a question, Spot?" "Sure, (N/N)" he says nonchalantly, "Why is it you are repulsed by fully naked bodies, but you're perfectly casual and fine about helping me bind my chest when I'm half-naked?" he clears his throat as if he was ready to spin a whole story, "Well, Race used to live with me and we started trusting each other a lot more than when we first met. He trusted me enough to teach him the best way to bind, and he trusted me enough to feel comfy without a top on when around the house, so I'm kinda desensitized. But when it comes to people being naked or bein' overly suggestive, I just..don't like it. At all."

'Asexual,' I think, 'Knew it."

"Anyway, you ready to fight off the bulls and get our rights back, (N/N)?" He stands up and offers a hand to help me up, which I receive. I catch my reflection in the dirty bathwater. I can see crystal clear, that I am dapper, strong, and ready to kick some Delancey ass.

But first, Lunch.

Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω

I arrive at the strike on Spot's shoulders, hyped for the happy ending they all worked so hard for. Spot sets me down gently and scans the crowd for someone. It seems he found them because his face lights up. I see Race run over to us. "(N/N)! Oh my god, I'm so fuckin' glad that you're awake! Especially today of all days!" however, his enthusiasm is soon replaced with concern, "But is ya sure yer okay? You must've woken up just today, so are you feeling good? Yer injuries don't hurt too bad, you're not dizzy, hungry, thirsty?" "Calm down, Tony, I gave him a bath, changed his bandages, gave him food n' water, even a pep talk, so you don't need to worry!" Race takes a few deep breaths, "Okay, okay, yeah I'm fine. But that's great!" He engulfs me in a firm, but gentle hug. I look around the crowd and see some familiar faces, Katherine seems to have brought another girl with her, who I'm assuming is Sarah, Davey's sister. I see Albert and Elmer tightly holding each other's hands. I see Finch and Smalls exchanging jokes as a form of distraction. I look back at Race and Spot, who are being so romantic, it's almost gross. Almost.

The adrenaline still hasn't left me so when people start getting as excited as me, it just hypes me up even more. We look up at the window of Pulitzer's office and see Jack and a few others standing there, waving. I wave back vigorously. Not too long after, Jack, Davey, Pulitzer, and The Governer appear on a balcony, Jack at the front. "Newsies of New York City..." cue the pause for dramatic effect, "WE WON!!" The crowd of newsies roars with joy. I watch as Crutchie limps out and beats Snyder's ass as the abuser is dragged away, I don't understand why so many people see him as an angel, it's obvious that he's a cheeky lil' rat bastard.

Suddenly, it's like everything is in slow motion. I look around once more and see Katherine and Sarah kissing, same with Albert and Elmer, Finch and Smalls are hugging each other tightly. I look back up at the balcony and see Davey and Jack gettin' it ON. I look once again to Spot and Race, who just finished kissing. Spot reaches down and hoists me onto his shoulders to cheer. And as I take in this momentous victory one sense at a time, I realize in a moment of pure bliss-

I finally found my true family.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Word Count: 8190

(A/N):

This took VERY LONG (approx. one month, I just finished after working from 9 pm to 5 am) I know it was supposed to be a simple one-shot, but since there was no one to help narrow down and shorten the plot for me, I got carried away. I am, however, pleased with the length of it. This may be the longest fic I've ever written. As well, I hope any underlying advice or tips mentioned in the story helped you to understand/realize something.

I would love it if you were to vote, give me some constructive criticism, and/or request something for me to write! Don't forget- I live to write that one fanfic you can never find.

Love y'all!

~ Race

[maraudersbutmuggle]

Content Warning: Gender Dysphoria, Mentions of Self Harm.

The summer before fifth year, James invited the boys to the beach house. Remus never took his shirt off. Didn't want to swim with them. And then Sirius noticed Remus' t-shirt had blood. By his ribs. His eyes widened with concern. And when Remus noticed, he shook his head. "Please don't tell the others" his eyes said. Remus ran away to the bathroom. Sirius made a silly excuse of combing his hair because it was getting frizzy by the wet weather. But he actually went to look for Remus. Worried. Sirius knocked on the first floor bathroom. "Remus?" "Go away, Sirius" Remus' voice sounded distant and so small. There was no way in hell that Sirius was going to leave him now. Sirius was reckless and tactless in that sense. He just wanted to help. Sirius swung the door open. Remus flinched, jumping in surprise. Sirius saw Remus, with a naked torso. Shaking while he fixed something... Sirius didn't have time to see, he looked away immediately. It was the first time he saw Remus without clothes. Even if they shared a dorm at Hogwarts. Sirius found himself blushing. It felt weird. "Please don't do that" Remus' voice sounded broken. Sirius had a hard time finding his voice again. "Do what, Remus?" he tried "Turn around, like I am something indecent. Like I am something horrible" Remus' voice was shaking. "I..." Sirius had never been so speechless. "You don't have a problem seeing James' or Peter's bodies. You have seen them all summer" Remus continued "But I am different. I am a freak" Sirius blinked nervously. He finally dared to look. Remus was not a freak. Sirius had never imagined Remus' body. He was a friend, like the rest. It wasn't that Sirius imagined all of his friends naked. But Remus had always been clothed in Sirius' mind. He was just Remus. Now, Sirius' eyes saw Remus' body. Normally. Remus was skinny. With a few scars around his torso and arms. Freckles on his shoulder. Remus was hugging himself embarrassed. But there were some bandages around Remus' chest. Like James had binded his arm when he fell during a rugby match. The bandages were bleeding, though. Some red stains by his ribs. That was an abnormal thing. Nothing else. "I.. I'm sorry" Sirius whispered "You're bleeding" he didn't find what else to say. "I'll take care of it. Just go" Remus sniffed. He decided to look at the mirror instead. Sirius could see how Remus stared at his own reflection with self loath. Sirius sighed, composing himself. This was Remus. His best friend. Sirius had swore not to treat him any different. He gained confidence again. "Can I help, Moony?" "No" Remus answered, although his nickname had made him feel less awkward. Sirius noticed. "Great" Sirius said. He closed the door behind him. He was still inside. Remus sighed "I told you to leave, Sirius" "I am your friend, Moony. I want to help" Sirius smiled like he always used to, and he had used his playful tone. Like everything was normal and cool. Remus looked at him like he was crazy. He was still trying to hide his body. "Now, I am pretty sure that...eh...thing is not supposed to make you bleed. Is it too tight?" Sirius took a step closer and Remus backed away. Like he was scared. "You don't understand," Remus whispered. He took a seat on the cold floor. His eyes avoided Sirius at all costs. "What?" Sirius followed him and took a seat. "You're a gorgeous boy..." Remus explained, frustrated. It wasn't a compliment but Sirius blushed. "You're perfect Sirius..." "I... I am not perfect..." Sirius murmured Remus ignored him "You have a great body and a great face" he sighed "It is horrible to have a body that doesn't belong to you. A girl's body..." he murmured "Okay, I understand..." Sirius said. Because he did. He understood now. He never realized how hard it must've been. Sirius knew what it was like. Everyone saw him as someone he was not. A Black. He was marked by it. So Sirius understood. "But I am pretty sure that bandage isn't supposed to make you bleed, right?" Remus shrugged, still looking down. "I don't want people to notice them" Sirius

blushed even more. But mainly because he didn't know if he was allowed to ask this question. "Yo...your boobs?" Remus scoffed, then he laughed softly. Sirius smiled. He was proud of making Remus laugh. "You're an idiot" Remus smirked, but still his eyes were down "Breasts" he corrected. Sirius nodded and stared. To Remus' face though, not his breasts. He didn't know why he was doing it. He stared the way his mouth twitched. The way his eyelashes, long, moved as he blinked. Sirius blushed. Sirius usually never blushed. He was confident with mostly everyone. But with Remus he was different. "Is there something you could do?" Sirius asked, clearing his throat. Remus finally turned to look at him. Golden-brown eyes full of curiosity. "With my body?" he asked Sirius nodded. "Surgery" Remus said "But it's expensive" Sirius opened his mouth but Remus stopped him. "Don't" he laughed "What? I haven't said anything" "I know you are going to offer paying for it or something" Remus shook his head "Please don't" Sirius shrugged embarrassed by how much Remus knew him. "Okay" he said "You'll get the surgery one day..." Remus wanted to protest but Sirius stopped him. "With your own money" he smirked, rolling his eyes "But in the meantime, please don't hurt yourself with those bandages" "They have to be tight" Remus clenched his teeth. "Not hurting you, though" Sirius said "I'm pretty sure no one will notice if you loosen them just a bit" Remus stared at him like a rare species. Sirius tried not to blush. Remus smiled "Thank you, Sirius" Sirius was feeling his heart warm, like on fire. But burning softly. It was a strange feeling, but a nice one. Maybe him and Remus were getting closer. "You want to go back to the beach?" Sirius tried to change the subject. Remus nodded "I'll change the bandages first" Sirius stood up, now more comfortable. They were back to their old selves. "Not too tight" Sirius scolded him "Yes, mum" Remus smiled "Or should I call you daddy?" Sirius laughed trying to hide his blush. There was Remus again, being funny and sarcastic as always. But somehow, everything had changed. Sirius saw Remus differently now. More openly. Deeper. And somehow, Sirius liked being the only one to know him like that. He sent smirks and winks to Remus for the rest of the day. Remus smiled back. The warm in his heart remained for the rest of the day, until both boys forgot about the subject.

[idnek83]

It is once again time for trans Soda ramblings:

Sometimes I like to think about how good dating Gundham is for Soda’s dysphoria. 

Like, on one hand, Gundham is tall, with a broad chest and shoulders, and a really low voice, and that all definitely gives Soda gender envy. But on the other hand, here’s a cis guy who spends like an hour getting his hair just right in the mornings, and who wears makeup pretty much everyday, and who is just unapologetically himself. 

Like Soda will be feeling shitty about wearing bright colors all the time cus it’s too “feminine”, but then he sees Gundham and his bright purple scarf and the red lining of his jacket, and he feels just a little better about it.

Soda will feel like he’s “not trans enough” cus he really likes the way he looks with eyeliner, but then there’s Gundham with his own, much more complicated make-up routine; moisturizing primer, spf liquid foundation, the tiniest bit of contorting on his jawline and cheeks, more eyeliner than Soda uses in a week, and finishing powder to keep it all matte and perfect throughout the day. Suddenly Soda remembers that makeup has nothing to do with gender and his eyeliner doesn’t make him feminine, it just makes him feel hot.

Soda will be agonizing over how his chest still isn’t quite flat with a binder, but then he sees Gundham’s pecs straining against even one of his looser t-shirts, and he’ll remember that even most cis guys don’t have 100% flat chests, and some of them actually have bigger chests than some girls (like Gundham lol)

He’ll feel bad about wanting to be held or carried or anything people tend to see as something more traditionally feminine in a relationship, but then Gundham will cuddle up with him and ask to be the little spoon because he just wants to feel safe and secure in his boyfriend’s arms, and Soda remembers wanting to feel loved is not feminine, regardless of what form that takes.

On top of all the little unintentional things Gundham does that make Soda feel less dysphoric, he’s also great at saying and doing just the right things. Whether it’s just something little like using masculine pet names (“Handsome gentleman” “My dark king” “My sweet prince” (I’m sorry I couldn’t resist lol)) or bigger things like casually buying Soda a new binder and leaving it in his room without saying anything after Soda mentions needing a new one, but not having the money for one just then. Soda absolutely cries when he finds it and Gundham just holds him and acts like he has no idea what the big deal is because he knows Soda had a bad day and is feeling vulnerable, and definitely isn’t in the mood to really talk about trans stuff right then.

And, of course, Gundham is a perfect gentleman in bed. He never questions Soda when he’s suddenly uncomfortable with something he enjoyed last week (or yesterday, or last night, or a minute ago), and he’s more than happy to help Soda explore both his more dominant and submissive sides. He does an especially great job at making sure Soda knows there’s nothing feminine about being submissive, both through praise and reassurance when Soda is feeling submissive, and by example when he is. Soda gets more and more confident in bed as time goes on, and Gundham is really happy to see it (both in a horny way and a wholesome way lol)

And boy, does watching Gundham be unapologetically extra about everything do wonders for Soda’s own self-confidence. It takes a while, but eventually Soda stops over analyzing everything he does and wondering if it’s “masculine enough” and learns to just be comfortable. Gundham helps him realize that everything he does is, in fact, masculine as hell, because Soda is a man and the only thing/person that can ever change that is Soda himself.

[fakeloveaskblog]

aw, sweet loceit in the evening sun. logan is actually super good at explaining healthy relationships and boundaries and stuff actually, i betcha he could recognize abuse no problem

…aye remy! REMY!! HAve you thought about going to that gay bar more often? who knows, maybe you'll encounter someone nice, make friends with like-minded people, hear some disco, the full nine yards. janus might be there, remus might be there. (just look around for the guy with the blue tie, he's a great guy, if he's not wearing it he'll look like he has that blue tie kinda energy! you could totally just get drunk and unload your grievances on him and i bet he won't even mind!)

(Mentions of U!Virgil but I say beforehand when that happens so those who don’t like U!Virgil can enjoy the rest of the fic up until then)

(Words: 4100)

Remy wiped away a tear while looking at your message. The cold light from their phone was the only thing brightening up the room. Virgil was sleeping beside them, his arm was laid around their waist.

"You just like tots gave me the greatest idea! I'm gonna invite Rem out to the bar! It's gonna the funnest thing like ever! Thanks girl!!"

--

2 days later Remus was dangerously close to eating the moss straight from the gay bar's wall. He had been left without supervision for over 15 minutes while he sat outside waiting for his friend to show up, what else was he supposed to do?!

"SSSSUUUP BABE!!!"

Remy came towards him as fast as they could. They had on a short leather skirt, a neon mesh crop top and a leather jacket over it.

They did a little turn "I just like felt a bit glamorous today!" 

Remus choked on his own spit "The world must be a dark place when you aren't feeling glamorous"

"Awwww babbbe"

He sent them a big grin. He'd just put on his usual oversized dysphoria hoodie and matching oversized (:O) sweatpants.

Remus' smile disappeared in an instant as he noticed dark bruises all around Remy's neck. Shades of purple and green collided against each other.

"Ehm did a vampire come and attack you last night? Seriously are you alri-"

"JUst a reminder that it will be loud in there" Remy interrupted.

"Oh. Right!"

He fumbled around in his bag after his headphones. After putting it and a chew necklace on he did a thumbs up. Remy took off their sunglasses and leaned down so they were face to face.

Their face was so close he could feel their breathe against his lips. They put the sunglasses onto him and sent him a soft smile.

“There’s like lots of bright lights too” They explained.

Remus’ heart fluttered. He didn’t understand why “T-thanks”

They moved their arm around his shoulders as they went into the bar. It was past 12 am so some of the daytime furniture had been moved to make place for a dancefloor. There was indeed lots of neon lights flickering all around the bar and fast pop music was blasting through the speakers.

It was hard to see any details of anyone around him so Remus quickly forgot about the bruise. In this lighting it just looked like a weird choker anyway.

A guy with a see through shirt bumped into Remus. He had top surgery scars. For a moment they looked at each other in the most knowing way. The stranger looked away and continued talking with whoever he was with.

Remus whole body seemed to vibrate. There were so many butterflies in his stomach it felt like he was going to puke, in a good way.

Remy sat him down on one of the tall barstools and slumped down right next to him “So whatcha gonna drink?”

“The squashed down organs of my enemies!!!” He shrugged “Soda?”

They burst out into laughter “What? You catholic or something? Not allowed to drink alcohol?”

He slumped in on himself and started fiddling with his necklace “I-I dunno-”

“No. No babe I was just like joking. Like a stupid bitch. It’s okay” They waved at the waiter “Your most alcoholic fruit mix and your finest coca cola please!”

Remus leaned in to whisper “With salt”

“With salt? Please!”

He kept vibrating like an overexcited weasel. After getting their drinks he kept tapping the glass to stim some of the happiness out.

“Honestly I’ve never been to a gay bar before. I’m digging it. Just like how I’m digging graves”

They playfully hit his shoulder “Then I’m tots gonna try my best to make this the  ultimate first gay bar experience! I can’t think of any other lil fucked up gremlin buddy I would wanna have by my side!”

"Muhahah!! I am officially assigned ultimate gremlin buddy-”

“Greetings” A voice suddenly came from behind them.

Both of them flinched away. Remy let out a short yell and Remus was close to throwing his drink in the person’s face when he saw it was just Logan.

He had on jeans and a black button up with the top button unbottoned. He had with him iced coffee from starbucks because he had to drive home later.

“LOGIE!!!” Remy threw their arms around his neck to pull him closer “Babe this is the Log-legend. Once he was like sooo drunk so when he like tried to kiss me puked on my shoes instead!”

Logan grimaced “I am still very sorry about that”

“Oh I already know him through Janus” Remus replied. 

“Oh my gawd babe” Remy looked between them all “So like we all know Janny?! Wig! Sad he isn’t here then”

Remus held up his cola “Cheers to J-anus!” The other two held up their glasses in agreement.

“Cheers”

“Cheerio!”

“He is very pretty and charming and cute” Logan dreamily sighed. He stopped himself from continuing to say compliments.

“Yeah” The other two sighed back in unison.

Logan sat down on a chair next to them. Remy looked around the bar before squinting at him “No Patty?”

He instantly started looking like a Very sad seal “Sadly my wife is away on a convention with her magical girl anime fanclub this whole week. I estimated that going to the bar would make me feel less lonely”

“You have a WIFe??? Like a real one???” Remus exclaimed, his eyeballs were close to popping out from surprise.

“Yes. This may be a controversial opinion but when I marry someone I prefer them to be physically real” He replied druly.

He got a smug grin on his lips “Does she peg you?”

“She does far more than just peg me”

“Nice!” His eyes went even wider “IS That a stim toy??!”

He pointed at the tangle Logan kept between his fingers “Correct. If I do not have something to relieve my focus onto I can easily go into senso- OH a chewie?”

Remus nodded while showing of his chew necklace. The two of them started rambling about their favorite stim toy. Until they went off into special interests (star trek/astronomy and art/animal biology respectively).

Soon enough Remus was showing pictures of the animal bones he’d found. Logan ooeh and ahhed at all of them before asking the most nerdy of questions (where he’d found them, their bone density, if any damage had been done to them) which only made Rem infodump which made Lo infodump which made them both happy stim.

Meanwhile Remy sat beside them completely zoned out. They got time to drink 2 more of those fruit mixes and a few shots. The room was starting to spin.

The loud music wasn’t keeping out the yelling. They dunked their forehead against the bar table and covered their ears to try and get it out. The music was supposed to keep it out! Why was nothing working! The bruise ached. Their throat closed in on itself until they couldn’t breathe. 

“Remus” They gasped out. They looked over to their friend with a desperate look in their eyes. They just needed a distraction.

“So my theory for why you keep finding bones in specifically that part of the woods is because of the kind of dirt making it take longer for them to deco-” Logan was explaining while Remus nodded along.

“Rem! L-let’s like go up and dance or something. Please” 

This time it caught Remus’ attention. He looked over to them “Sure- are you feeling alright? Did you drink too much? You’re looking like a mummy”

“Yes. No. I just like- Like- They’re playing Charli xcx of course we gotta like dance!!”

“I will protect your belongings then” Logan added.

Remy stumbled up on shaky legs. Remus sent them a warm smile that made them want to cry before taking their hand. He let them lead him out to the dancefloor. Honestly he was pretty nervous about it, but being with them always made some of the anxiety melt away.

They stumbled on their own feet and fell forward. Their friend took ahold of their wrists and pulled them close to his chest. Their faces were so close to each other. So so close.

He didn’t let go. They couldn't remember him ever letting them hold him this close. Their chests pressed against each other. Their arms around his shoulders. His hands on their back. 

"You’re right. It is a good song. Good to crash a car too" Remus said absentmindedly.

Remy let up into shaky giggles from how sudden he’d said it “Yeah. Yeah I guess” 

They kept giggling. He chuckled back. He started spinning around on the dancefloor. They moved with him. His arms wrapped closer around their waist. Their cheek leaned against the slope of his neck (even though they had to lean down to get on his height level).

Remy quietly sang along to the music which made Remus start yelling along to it. The enby threw their head back from laughter. They took his hand and intertwined their fingers.

Remus moved his hand out and spun them around before pulling them close again. Their cheeks were flushed red, his was as well. He playfully dipped them down when the song ended.

It continued on into a song neither of them knew but they kept dancing anyway. They didn’t stay as pressed close to each other but they always had some contact. Holding hands. An arm around a waist. A head leaning against a chest.

When they finally got back to the bar table they were both panting. Remy was completely leaning on Remus since their body had started to hurt, but even through the pain they were both bubbling over with so much happiness they kept breaking out into bouts of giggling.

To their surprise Logan wasn’t sitting alone. A tall person with long dark hair sat on the chair beside him. Xir hand was on his thigh. The nerd had a soft smile on his face as they leant close to talk.

“Uh Lo?” Remus had to wave his arms around to get his attention.

His head shot around to look at them “Hello” He glanced to the person “These are the ones I was protecting belongings for” He stood up and held out his hand “Shall we?” Xir took it. Logan waved at his friends before going off to the dancefloor with the stranger.

“Huh. Good for him” 

“I guess”

Remy ordered another high alcohol fruit mix. Remus happily chewed on his necklace while humming along to the music. Between their chairs their hands hang with their fingers intertwined. Holding their hand had started to make Remus feel all funny in the head for some reason.

The enby watched on as Logan and the stranger danced for a bit before moving to a corner to make out. When the stranger started to lead him towards the bar’s bathrooms Remy turned to their friend.

“Yeah okay he’s not coming back for like a while. Smoke break?”

“Of course!”

They finished their drink before leaving the bar. The pair stopped right outside. Remus sat down on the side of the pavement. Remy tried to sit down but they stumbled over themself and fell flat on the ground.

Remus got up to help “Are you okay? Are you sure you haven’t drank too much?”

“I’m fine. I’m fine” They laughed out.

He sat them down on the pavement while dusting off their clothes. He patted them on the head while pouting “You should get some water”

“Naaaah babe. I’m good”

In the moonlight the bruise was visible again. That horrible dark purple bruise around their neck. It looked like it hurt.

Remus put his hand on their shoulder “Beanie are you alright? I do know it wasn’t some halloween monster that got you that bruise”

For a moment their whole body tensed, they forced a smile “It’s fine. me and my boyf just tried like some new kinky shit in the bedroom y’know. Nothing more” They lied.

They took out a cigarette pack and a lighter from their bag. They traced their thumb over Remus’ lower lip and opened his mouth just slightly. Remy leaned closer while putting a cigerette between his lips. They lit it.

Remus took a deep breathe. It’d been a while since he’d last smoked. He leaned so close the cigarette nearly touched Remy’s skin. They parced their lips as he breathed out the smoke right into their mouth.

A smile spread on their lips. He held the cigarette over to them but they shook their head. They looked around in their bag again and took out a small poppers bottle.

“Should you really take that. Won’t your brain melt out of your ears?” Remus asked “I really don’t wanna have to slorp up your brain juice...yet”

“Relax babe. It’s like not dangerous as long as I don’t like take too much and I only take when partying” It took a moment before they quietly added “And I only party when I need to get out of the apartement”

“What?”

They forced on a bigger smile “What?”

Remy moved the popper up to their nose and inhaled as much of it as they could. It took a few seconds before they let up into a giggle. It was in a higher tone than their usual bubbly laugh, it almost sounded like cackling. They could see stars.

(U!Virgil mentions from here on out)

“Y’know my boyfriend gave me like a flashback or whatever last night” They giggled while swaying from side to side.

Remus gently grabbed their shoulders and moved them to lean against him so they wouldn’t fall over “Uhu. Did you stab him?”

“No silly. He just. He’d been soooo sweet all weeek and I just I just ruined it ‘cause i like overeacted to some joke he made while like we were washing the dishes” They were barely even aware they were speaking “And like it just kept going until we were like screaming at each other”

Remy was still smiling and giggling between every word but tears started to form in their eyes. Their fingers felt numb. Bile was rising in their throat.

“And he just like threw the plate he was holding down on the ground. And it like didn’t hit me. He wasn’t even aiming at me. He was just throwing it at the ground. But it shattered and it was so stupid and overemotional and stupid and pathetic but I just I just curled up on the floor and like had a panic attack like a stupid baby”

They smeared their hand across their face to try and get the tears away. They felt sick. Remus quickly put out his cigarette, it didn’t feel like the right time to smoke.

“And I just like- Is that normal? Is that fine? Like throwing stutff like that? I-I- he’s never done it before. Or I mean like not plates” They looked up at Remus “Is it fine?”

He gulped while fiddling with his hoodie sleeve “Well uh did he apologize?”

“Mhmm. He like- like for some minutes he like kept yelling ‘cause he thought I was just like faking a panic attack to like I dunno manipulate him but then he like comforted me and like calmed me down and like held me and cuddled all night until I fell asleep and- and he said sorry a bunch of times and like he said it would never happen again. He uh usually doesn’t lie”

“Well ehm then it should be fine right? Right?” They both shrugged at each other “I mean everyone can make mistakes! And it was during an argument! Everyone does drastic things during an arguments! So it’s fine. I think”

A shaking breathe of relief left Remy’s lips. They stretched themself over his lap and he moved his arms around them. “Thanks babe. I was like tots worried for a bit but y’know i was thinking like that too. So it’s fine”

“Yeah” He combed his fingers through their hair “You do know you can vent to me whenever right? I promise I won’t gross you out with details about how to pull out rabbit teeth ever again so if I can hold that back then I can also listen to stuff! I can super listen!!”

They closed their eyes. They felt so tired. So tired and sick and horrible. “Mhm. I know babe. I know”

Remy sent him a soft smile before suddenly puking. Some of it came on his pants but mostly on the ground. Remus stood up and carefully moved them down to a sitting position.

He rubbed up and down their back with one hand and held their hair back with his other. Their shoulders were shaking and they were taking in shallow breathes between every sudden throw up.

“It’s okay beanie-boo. Breathe. Breathe. You got all the time in the world. Until the sun blows up at least”

“I-I took- too much- too much” They slurred out before lurching forward again. It seemed to stop for now.

“I’m aware” He carefully wiped away some of the puke left around their mouth with his hoodie sleeve.

They leaned back against his chest. They closed their eyes and focused on breathing. He held them so so gently. As if they would break like glass otherwise. He pressed a kiss to the top of their head.

“There you are!” Logan said as came through the bar entrance “What a relief. I assumed you had left without me because you thought my actions were unacceptable” He noticed how pale and shaky Remy looked and got a worried look on his face “Is everything alright?”

“They feel like someone has slammed a fish into their stomach. Not good” Remus replied.

“I see. I suppose it woud be best to get them home”

Logan picked Remy up with ease to carry them to his car. He was quite sure he’d carried dogs that weighted more than them. Remus anxiously followed along.

He sat them in the passenger seat. He shook their shoulders until they opened their eyes. They let out a quiet whine.

He held up 4 fingers “Remy how many fingers am I holding up?”

“Fuck yourself”

“Noted”

They moved to the side and seemed to pass out again. Logan closed the door before turning to Remus.

“Did they take anything?” He whispered.

“Only a popper”

“Good. Do you need a ri-”

“Bus”

“Okay” Logan was about to go but stopped midstep and lowered his voice even more “Oh and Rem...Could you please not ask Janus to hang out next weekend? I am planning a surprise...I hope it will make him happy”

“Good luck comrade....Please text me once Remy is home safe. Please?”

“Of course”

He did a little nod before leaving. Logan got into the car. He couldn’t stop looking at the bruise around their neck. Remy continued to sleep for most of the ride until they they were 5 minutes or so away from their apartment. They suddenly flinched awake.

“Stop the car!” They gasped out. 

“Are you still feeling the same?”

“Logan stop the fucking car!” There was fear in their eyes. 

Logan stopped by the side of the road. The road was barren and dark. It had to be past 3 am at least. Remy crawled back into the backseats while their whole body shook.

“Don’t. Look. At. Me”

“Sure” He stared down into the steering wheel to not accidentally see their reflection in the glass.

“I just. I just have to change clothes. I just. I don’t want Virigl to call me a whore again. I mean. He won’t. But what if. What if he gets mad. I just. I just have to change” They slurred out.

They stumbled out of the car after changing into a pair of long pants and closing their leather jacket. A cold chill went up Logan’s spine. He quickly stepped out of the car as well.

“Okay bye bye Logie!!”

They tried to move but Logan grabbed onto their shoulders. He forced back a choking feeling in his throat “What do you mean by your boyfriend getting mad?”

“Pff! It’s nothing! I’m drunk!! Byyyeeeeee”

They started to stumble away but Logan easily followed along “It did not sound like he called you a whor-...you know what...with your consent. I am simply going to remind you that calling a partner things like that is not okay. Not in any circumstance”

Remy’s expression turned cold. They walked faster “I don’t like what you’re implying”

“I’m not implying anything”

“Yes you Fucking are!”

“Exscuse me for being worried about your wellbeing. What you just said sounded like a very bad sign”

“Yeah exactly it only SOUnded bad! My boyfriend isn’t bad!” Remy snarled out.

“I am not saying he is. He doesn’t have to be bad to say awful things, as long as he changes”

They shoved their hands into their pockets. Their hands moved into fists “You don’t know a fucking thing about me. You tried to kiss me once when you were drunk and that’s all. We don’t know each other”

Logan took a deep breathe “I don’t need to know you to see red flags. Remy-” He searched for words “Remy you’re bruised. How- you can’t expect me to not get worried”

Remy suddenly stopped and turned around to meet his eyes. “MY BOYFRIEND ISN’T ABUSIVE! I-”

“I’m not necessarily saying he is. I just wan’t to talk-” His voice started to sound desperate.

They looked like a cornered animal. Tears were brimming at the edges of their eyes “YOU DON’T KNOW A THING!”

“Remy-”

“I DID THIS TO MYSELF!” Their hand went up to the bruise “I DESERVED IT! VIRGIL DIDN’T DO A FUCKING THING! I DID! I TOOK A BELT AND HURT MYSELF! OKAY?! VIRGIL CARES ABOUT ME!”

He tried to sound soothing “Remy please take a deep breathe-”

“NO! NO! YOU KNOW WHAT LOGAN?! THERE IS STILL CUM ON YOUR FUCKING LIPS FROM YOU SUCKING OFF SOME STRANGER IN A DIRTY BATHROOM! SO NO! I AM NOT TAKING LOVE ADVICE FROM SOMEONE WHO IS CHEATING ON HIS GODDAMN WIFE!”

They stormed away. For a moment Logan was frozen in place before he forced himself to run after them to try and make sure they would be okay.

“I am not-”

Remy looked at him for one last time. The look in their eyes made him feel cold. It was pure hatred.

“Logan get the fuck away from me! I am drunk and high and alone on a street with no one but you who is sure as hell fucking stronger than me and all you’re doing is spouting bullshit! So please get why I want you to leave. And why I don’t ever want you to talk to me again!”

He stopped dead in his tracks “...Right....Yes....I am so sorry”

Remy didn’t even respond. They simply turned and walked away. Logan stayed and watched to make sure they got home to the apartment safe before going back to his car.

He slumped down in the seat. His heart was racing and his thoughts were for once an illogical flurry. He sat motionless for several minutes before finally getting some semblence of an idea.

He took out his phone and dialed one of his usual numbers. It took several signals before Emile Picani picked up.

“Mhm? Logie bear? I can’t today I have clients in the morning” He yawned out.

“This is about one of your patients. I am fearing that they are in danger”

In an instant all of the sleepyness in Emile’s voice disappeared “In danger? Physical? Is it urgent? Do I need to call someone? Which patient are you even referring to?”

Logan hesitated. If Remy had reacted that strongly to him just attempting to ask about his boyfriend it was very likely that they would stop going to therapy if Emile brought it up. His throat tightened, he didn’t want to put them in any more danger.

“I....Nevermind Emile....This was just a far too gone joke...Someone dared me to call you. I am sorry. Have a good night”

He ended the call. He leaned his forehead against the steering wheel and let out a long sigh. His hands held onto the wheel so hard his knuckles whitened.

Logan had no idea what to do. No idea at all. All he knew was fear. Fear for Remy’s safety. Fear for their well being. Fear that anything he did would only make their situation worse.

[i-did]

Do you think trans Neil fics are just a way for people to enforce more heteronormativity into Andriels relationship? From what I’ve seen it just seems like an excuse for writers to feminise Neil more which is really harmful to trans male stereotypes. Not to mention the smut seems like an excuse to write about penis/vagina sex. Idk if I’m overthinking this but it’s the feeling I get and I’d appreciate someone else’s perspective on it

I think the fact that the vast majority of trans representation in fics is smut is pretty telling. I also am unfortunately nosey and back when I still read smut (I rarely do these days, it just makes me feel bad these days instead, haha) I would check out the author, and they were often women, presumably or openly cis since Fandom is an overwhelmingly (but not exclusively) AFAB space.

So far all the trans men I've personally spoken to have mentioned that they can't read any trans fics and actually actively avoid them.

NSFW LANGUAGE

There is also the discussion of language and misgendering of genitals in smut fics, as well as how differently the characters (who are being written as trans) become. Trans andrew fics are dominated by smut as well as writing him as a bottom and very sexual and ... okay I genuinely can't think of another word for this besides "cockslut" so sorry about the informality of language. But they wrote him as a cockslut, and same as neil. Trans men can be tops, and often are because of bottom dysphoria, and anal is still a thing trans men can enjoy, anyone can.

We have a pretty good idea how andrew and neil act during sexual acts together since we are shown andrew jerking neil off and andrew sucking neil off in the books. So when because they're afab they suddenly act very different during sex it can be... suspicious.

Its also important to discuss language used during smut fics as well as what is included and what isn't. Often chests are mentioned, not so often with top surgery in mind, and body hair isn't. Trans men on testosterone are very aware of their body hair and how it has changed, and usually proud of it. I think even a passing remark about how one of them (pre or post op) would have chest hair or a happy trail would be good to mention, when happy trails are often mentioned in cis smut but omitted in trans smut.

Also when having sex with a trans person (yes speaking from experience) it is best to openly and honestly discuss what they are comfortable with and what language they like. Consent is always important to be discussed and when/if your partner has dysphoria that is another element to be considered and discussed. Some trans women get dysphoric about anal, some don't, some trans men keep a shirt on some don't some people keep their socks on some people like some words that others don't. Its best to assume someone doesn't have a misgendering kink! Its not that common and all kinks should be discussed beforehand anyway. Dirty talk should also be discussed, what words are good to use vs not.

A lot of the language see in ftm trans smut (because there is next to no mtf trans smut) ((not that I think it would be much better but who knows I haven't read it)) refers to the genitals with dirty language associated with women (tits, pussy, cunt, etc) but doesn't mention the trans man's erection, in fact I haven't seen any mention T-cocks/T-dicks. Its also best to assume your partner doesn't like those words and use vague terms unless otherwise stated, using general words such as hole is still hot and also not misgendering their genitals. Some people do not see this as a form of misgendering, but not everyone does and the reason people I've talked to about this (and myself) don't read these fics is because the language makes them uncomfortable so we avoid it all together. (As well as the other problems discussed).

The fact that effects of testosterone are hardly mentioned makes me feel like these fics are more so existing for the often afab non mlm consumers of smut fics who use them as porn to get off to and increase their self insertablility. I'm honestly curious about this psychologically, I know some people don't realize they're trans until moments like this, but I also know fully confident cis and sometimes het women get off to gay porn.

Regardless, obviously writing trans neil is not problematic, and same as writing trans andrew fics. But its important to note how you or the author might have changed the characters canon personalities, presentation, reactions during sex and preferences during sex. And also why there is so much emphasis on sex, when people who are trans are trans not just during sex, but also... when they're not having sex, which is most of the time like everyone else. Its also important to note which one you choose to prefer being trans and why, I know a lot of non Americans who only use the word for binder as a chest binder and not a folder assumed neil was trans until it became apparent he wasn't written with the intention of so, but I've also seen people choose to have neil be trans because they think "trans men are just hotter" and if you're not a trans man,,,, maybe. Don't say that. Because that's fetishizing trans men.

END NSFW

Whatmack wrote a good fic where neil is trans and its not just a device for smut, in fact its not about his genitals and sex at all, its about WWI and is really good but mind warnings, its called "in flanders fields" i believe.

Also I'm told I'm an overthinker a lot but honestly? My mind is blank a lot of the time lmao. And then when its not blank I'm just... thinking. I don't think I'm an over thinker regardless of what others have told me lmao, I think they just don't realize how often I'm actually just vibing. Also "overthinking" can be good. Analyzing things and what they mean can be important and questioning stuff is also important. Obviously if you're getting anxious than overthinking isn't good and its overwhelming instead, but a little overthinking is good because some times I feel we under think things and don't analyze what they could mean.

When I have a reaction to something or an instinct idea about something I try to assess why. Do I hate Kora? Why? Do I think she's arrogant and unlikable? Or am I actually being misogynistic and potentially colorist against her, and if she were a white male character would i question her personality and actions as much as I do when she's a woc, much less be annoyed by them? (I love Kora, this is just an example lol)

Also sorry I keep answering these like always 3 am my time which means for a lot of you guys its even earlier in the morning, (whats up Australia, New Zealand, Europe, the Philippines, and other awake places)

[thatsamericano]

I Just Want You To Know Who I Am

Pairing/Characters: America/Romano. Brief appearances from Spain, Belgium, and Veneziano. Background mention of Gerita.

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Mentions of transphobia, misgendering, and gender dysphoria. Some internalized acephobia. The fic is overall very fluffy in tone, and none of the characters are shown dealing with someone who doesn’t accept their sexuality or gender identity.

Summary: Romano didn’t always have the words to tell people who he was, but now that he does, he wants America to know he’s transgender. He’s scared, but he isn’t going to let that stop him anymore.

Word Count: 3065

Savino was glad he had words to succinctly describe who he was now. A long time ago, there hadn’t been words to describe the innate sense of wrongness he felt in his own body, his aversion to the name his grandfather had given him that went beyond his personal issues with the man, or the inexplicable way he’d felt like crying every time someone complimented him by telling him what a pretty little girl he was.

Centuries ago, when he was small, confused, and terrified, he tried to explain it for the first time. Spain was his guardian, and the only person he could turn to. Savino had told Antonio that he didn’t want to wear dresses like Belgium did. He wanted to wear trousers like Spain and have his hair cut like Spain’s too.

“But why?” Spain had asked, brow creased in confusion. “You look so preciosa in the clothes you have now.”

Romano had looked away, ashamed. “I… I don’t want to be preciosa, Spain. I want to be precioso.”

Spain blinked, stunned by what Romano had said. He’d probably never heard of such a thing, but to his credit, he had reacted as well as could be expected. He smiled at Romano and ruffled his hair. “I’ll make you some trousers and a shirt then, mijo.”

“Grazie, Tonio.” There was something that felt so right about Spain calling him mijo, acknowledging him as a son instead of a daughter. He puffed up his chest with a pride he’d never felt before.

“Of course. Should I call you another name too?”

“Just call me Romano for now.” He wasn’t sure of the human name he wanted yet.

Spain had helped so much after Romano told him the truth as he understood it back then. He cut Romano’s hair, dressed him as a boy, and agreed to use the human name Romano eventually decided upon. Spanish and Italian were both gendered languages, and Spain was very good about referring to him with the right endearments and adjectives. He complimented his little henchman just as much as he had before, but he never called him preciosa again.

When Belgium saw him in trousers for the first time, she had naturally been confused. Antonio had rubbed the back of his neck and sheepishly explained how he had been mistaken. Romano had always been a boy, but he hadn’t known. And since he was a boy, he ought to wear boy clothes and have his hair cut like one.

Belgium had bent down closer to his height and told Savino what a handsome boy he was. And that had made him feel so wonderful, to have someone else see him as a boy, especially a beautiful woman like Belgium. Romano had been able to explain everything to her later once he was an adult and had better language to describe who he was. Belgium nodded along with a soft little smile and said she hadn’t known that at the time, but figured it might have been something like that later, when she had been able to reflect on what happened with a better, more modern understanding of transgender people. She agreed to keep it secret for Savino, since it wasn’t something he wanted spread around.

He’d told Veneziano too. By then, he was presenting as a boy and most people believed he was one because they didn’t know he’d ever been considered a girl. Veneziano knew about his past, but it didn’t seem to make a difference to him. “Famiglia is famiglia,” he’d said. “And a fratello’s just as good as a sorella.” After asking for his new human name, Feliciano had hugged him and told him he didn’t need to know anything else unless Savino wanted to share it with him. From that day on, Feli had been just like Tonio. He never spoke to him as if he wasn’t a man, even if the idea of someone like Savino being a man wasn’t well understood at the time.

There were others he’d told over the years, mostly his prospective lovers. Savino couldn’t risk someone being disgusted by the sight of his naked body, so he’d always told them in advance, long before he got involved with them physically. But each time he was taking a huge risk, not just of rejection but of violence. Humans were not kind to men like him, and nations wouldn’t necessarily be either. There were many people he wanted but never pursued for that very reason, and America was one of them.

Alfred seemed kind, and he was a loud and vocal supporter of LGBT rights. He saw himself as a hero, and he truly wanted to make the world a better place for everyone. Once, Alfred had put his arm around Savino’s shoulders and promised that Romano could count on him if he was ever in a fix. Romano had pretended to be annoyed, mostly because he liked America’s arm around his shoulders a little too much.  He liked Alfred a little too much, and he had for decades, ever since he had lived in his house so long ago and grown to feel like Alfred’s place was a home as much as he anywhere that wasn’t South Italy could be. But he couldn’t bring himself to admit he loved him, not now, not when he hadn’t revealed something so important about who he was. It was one thing to be rejected by someone you had a silly crush on that didn’t mean anything, but it was another thing to be rejected by someone you loved. Savino didn’t know if he could survive the latter.

Romano was in such a better place than he’d been when he told Spain that first time, so long ago. He knew who he was and he had words for it that would make sense to other people who had never felt as he did. He’d been living as a man for centuries, and no one had questioned that in a long time. The twentieth century had brought with it medicines and surgeries for men like him, wonderful inventions that could bring his body more in line with his internal sense of himself. Romano still had occasional bouts of dysphoria, but now he could look at his naked body in the mirror without shame. He was mostly fine with who he was these days, and with the long journey he’d taken to get there. But would America be?

There was only one way to find out. Romano frowned down at his phone as he pressed the button to call America. It rang once, twice before America picked up.

“Hey, Little Italy! I’m so glad you called! I’ve been totally bored, and I’ve had no one to talk to all day!”

Romano smirked and decided to tease America a little. He enjoyed teasing him, seeing the way his face would get all red as he shyly glanced away. If only he’d ever been able to kiss Alfred when he was acting like that. “So you were lonely without me, Fredo?”

“I… uh, I didn’t say that. No, ‘cause like I tried to call Mattie, but he was hanging out with the Netherlands and Cuba and was too busy to do anything with his own brother.” Savino just knew that Alfred was pouting and making sad puppy eyes at being “abandoned” by Canada for his friends.

Savino snorted. “Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. Feli’s on a date with his macho potato right now.”

Alfred giggled. “Macho potato. I always thought it was so funny when you call him that. But I’ve never really understood why.”

Because I’m jealous, Savino thought. I’m jealous of his height and his muscles, and how he got them so easily. I’m jealous of how he was born to look so macho with hardly any effort, and I’ve had to work so hard just to get where I am right now.

Savino cleared his throat and tried to shove the dysphoric thoughts away. “I don’t fucking know. He likes potatoes, and he likes to pretend he’s Mr. Macho Man. Do I need another reason?”

“Nah, that makes sense, I guess. But you can be pretty macho too. I still remember that one time on Halloween you dressed up as the Grandma from Little Red Riding Hood.” America paused, and Romano could hear him letting out a long sigh over the phone line. “You were wearing a dress, but like in a manly way? I don’t know how to explain it, but it was macho of you. Very macho.”

Dio, Alfred sounded turned on just from the memory of it. Savino remembered that costume. Spain and Belgium had both been surprised when he volunteered to dress up as the Grandma in keeping with their Little Red Riding Hood theme, and Spain had even pulled him aside to make sure he was comfortable wearing a dress, given how much it had bothered him as a child. But Romano had explained it was different this time. He was dressing up as a character, not him, and it was just that one night. Romano had worn sunglasses and toted in a gun to feel more tough and manly, and no one mistook his for a little old woman. That costume now hung in the back of his closet, behind the suit separates and shirts that were his normal, daily attire. Savino had considered finding selling the costume on eBay or donating it to an organization that took women’s clothing since he’d probably never wear it again.

But if he could make Alfred sound like that again, maybe Savino would hold onto the dress.

“Vinny? You still there?”

“Yeah, sorry. I just drifted off for a minute there.” His hand moved through the air like he was sweeping cobwebs out of his mind.

“It’s cool. Oh! Speaking of costumes, Japan was talking about this awesome anime convention in Tokyo next month. Hopefully my boss will give me enough time off for me to go, because it sounds amazing.”

Romano smiled at America’s enthusiasm. “I hope so too.”

Alfred launched into an excited discussion of all the characters he might cosplay as at the convention if he got to go. Romano didn’t know many of them, and America was speaking so fast he couldn’t hear the names of all of them, but he listened attentively regardless.

This was nice, Romano reflected. His friendship with America was warm, safe, and comfortable. He could listen to Alfred talk about something that made him happy for hours on end. If he didn’t say anything, never brought up the real reason he had called Alfred, it could stay this way forever.

But the thing was that he would gladly listen to Alfred talk about something that made him happy for hours on end. That Alfred made him feel warm, safe, and comfortable just by being himself. He was so close to letting himself fall in love with the idiota, and there was only one thing stopping him.

Savino broke into the middle of Alfred’s sentence. “Alfredo, I need to tell you something.”

“Is it something bad? You sound really scared. Is someone hurting you? Whose ass do I have to kick?”

“No… no one is. I’m fine. This is just really hard for me to say.” It had been so difficult each time. With Spain, Veneziano, and Belgium, he didn’t have words for it, and he had to explain himself in painful, drawn out sentences that didn’t always reflect the truth he knew in his heart (like telling Belgium he had been born a girl, when he’d never really felt like one). He was afraid of being rejected by people who mattered to him, and he was afraid they might not even comprehend what he was trying to tell them. Now, Savino had words, but that didn’t make him any less scared of losing someone who mattered to him.

“What is it?” Alfred asked gently.

He took a deep breath, in and out, then bit the bullet. “I’m transgender.”

Savino tried not to panic in the stunned silence than followed. Luckily that silence only lasted a few seconds. “Oh, wow, that’s… that’s awesome!”

Romano laughed in relief. “It is?”

“Of course it is, dude! I am so proud of you, and I am so glad you felt comfortable enough to share that with me!”

Savino closed his eyes, feeling that last barrier to falling in love with Alfred giving way. “You made it easy for me to feel comfortable, caro.”

“Umm, can I ask you a question?” Alfred’s voice sounded hesitant and strained. “I promise it won’t be too weird.”

“Sure, I guess.” Savino frowned and brushed some imaginary dust off his knee. People could ask invasive questions when someone revealed they were trans, but that didn’t sound like what Alfred was planning to do.

“What kind of transgender person are you? Because I just called you dude, but only because I called you dude so many times before and didn’t know it was wrong. I’d never intentionally misgender someone right after they came out to me. That would be epically shitty of me.” Alfred seemed worried and apologetic.

“It’s okay. I’m a trans guy, so you can call me dude if you want to.”

“Thank God! For a second, I thought I’d fucked up really badly. He/him pronouns still okay?”

“Yeah.”

“What about your name, Savino? And the nicknames I give you, Vinny and Little Italy?”

Savino grinned. “Yes. And I don’t even know why you’re worried about Little Italy. That has nothing to do with my gender.”

Alfred chuckled. “I figured I should make sure, just in case.”

“I’m glad I decided to tell you today,” Romano said. “I wanted to tell you before, but I was scared. You didn’t seem like you’d have a bad reaction, but it’s a hard thing to talk about, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it.” Alfred paused, and it felt like he was preparing to say something important. Savino waited until he was ready. “I’m uhh… queer, I guess? I’m not really sure what to call myself.”

Savino smiled sadly at the insecurity he could hear in Alfred’s voice. “That’s okay. For a long time, I didn’t know what to call myself either.”

“No, I guess you wouldn’t have.” America sighed, and he sounded distressed. “It’s… fuck, I don’t even know how to explain this. For most of my life, I thought I was asexual. Well, actually, I thought I was broken and that there was something wrong with me, but I’m trying not to feel that way anymore.”

“There is nothing wrong with you.” Damn it, he wished America wasn’t on another continent so he could hug him. He could probably use a hug right now.

“But then there was this guy. This one amazing, wonderful, really special guy.” Alfred laughed softly, thinking about whatever lucky bastard he was obviously in love with, and Savino wondered who it might be. Lithuania? Japan? Prussia? South Korea? America was close to a lot of people.

Or maybe it was him. Maybe he was the lucky bastard.

“He’s the only person I’ve ever, umm, wanted that way,” America continued. “I don’t think it’s because he’s a guy, because I’m not into guys generally, and I’m not into girls either. But I do like the specific ways he is a guy, so maybe I’m gay? I don’t know.”

“That’s fine, Fredo. You don’t have to label yourself if you don’t want to.” No wonder America was so confused. He had only liked one person his entire life. That wasn’t much information to determine your sexuality on.

“I really appreciate you saying that, but I wish I could label myself. All my other friends seem to know what genders they’re into, and it feels kind of weird that I don’t.”

“Well, you seem to be fixated on this one particular person. Do you think anything would be different if the guy you told me about had been a girl instead?” Romano wanted to help America figure this out, since his uncertainty seemed to be bothering him. This was the only way Romano could think of.

America thought it over. “I guess I still don’t know,” he answered quietly. His volume was more typical of Canada than what Romano was used to from America. “When you told me you were transgender and I wasn’t sure how you were transgender, I was more worried about hurting you than if I’d still think you were hot as a girl.”

Savino teared up. He was the lucky bastard after all. “Alfredo, you…”

“Crap, I didn’t make things weird, did I?! We can totally go back and pretend I didn’t say anything. You know me, open mouth, insert foot.” Alfred laughed shakily.

“I don’t want to go back and pretend you didn’t say anything. You know what I really want, idiota? I want to kiss the hell out of you, like I’ve wanted to kiss you for years. But I’d have to get on a goddamn plane and be trapped in a tin can of death with hundreds of other passengers for several hours to make that happen.” Romano hated flying, but he was willing to consider it.

“Or I could fly to see you. I’ve got a private jet, so I wouldn’t have to waste time going through airport security.”

Romano grinned. “That works too.”

“Can I call you back in a little bit? I need to call my boss to make sure he can spare me for a few days while I fly out to see you.”

“Sure, tesoro. Talk to you soon.”

Alfred hung up the phone, and Savino set his phone down on the table in front of him. Coming out to America had gone much better than he could’ve expected. Romano was glad he didn’t have that burden on his shoulders anymore, and he was hoping America would call back in a few minutes to let him know his boss’s decision. If he couldn’t be spared for a few days and Romano’s boss wouldn’t let him go either, they would have to find some way around that. As far as Romano was concerned, he’d been waiting more than long enough as it was, and he wasn’t going to wait any longer than he had to.

[silverandarsenic-hcs]

Could you please please please! Do Papas/cardiac and ghouls reacting to S/O being nervous to do anything because their trans, or coming out to them? (FTM and MTF)

First post in a long time and it’s not even my work! This is something @solofreakk answered for us FOREVER ago that I never even go around to pressing the 8 buttons to post it. How absolutely lazy can I be. But please enjoy (-kat) 

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*cracks my knuckles* alright Oingos and Boingos and Those Who Are Neither i’m gonna do my best at this as a trans/nonbinary guy but i definitely don’t speak for everyone’s experiences, so… if you don’t like this i apologize. I want everyone to be supportive of you so if they sound repetitive I’m sorry! And I apologize in advance for not including MTF :( I just feel like trans women and men can have some similar experiences but in the end I don’t think it’s my place to write for them. If there are any trans women out there writing stuff for Ghost i would say Please Shamelessly Shout Yourselves Out In The Replies Ladies.

Papa I: He’s a bit too old for most activities that would reveal you being trans imo. A pride parade is too crazy for him, he doesn’t have the energy to go to the pool or something. If you did he’d just lay there in the sun with a ghoul waiting to open an umbrella when he’s about to start getting too crisp. So if you didn’t go swimming, or take your shirt off, it literally would not raise any questions. He’s not in the water. He might make an offhand comment about how you should enjoy yourself but you could very easily tell him you’d prefer to be sitting with him, and you melting his old man heart like that kills any other question he might’ve even had. If you do end up explaining it to him later, he kindly reminds you there’s nothing wrong with knowing who you are. Encourages you to feel comfortable around him, you shouldn’t feel like you have to hide who you are because of your past. No further questions asked. You can say what you’d like about yourself but he won’t press or get in your business.

Papa II: This man is totally comfortable with nudity. You being opposite is… weird. He’ll ask. Are you insecure? You can say it’s something like that. He’ll be able to tell that you’re kind of dodging the question and he’ll leave it alone. But you’ve piqued his curiosity now. He’s gonna watch you just a little bit closer than he did before. He’ll suggest you guys take a swim, or go to the beach, and when you shoot that down too, he’ll ask. “Is there a reason why?” You can try to make excuses, or be vague, or say a half-truth, but those mismatched eyes see right through you. He probably already knows. When you ask him if he does, he’ll just wrap you in a nice strong Papa II Rare Tender Hug™. “It’s nothing to be ashamed about, you know. It’s okay to decide you’re not what everyone said you were. It’s part of becoming your own person.” Would probably be more bold in asking what your future plans are for yourself. Later on quietly reminds you not to bind for too long, or helps you with shots, or is making sure you’re laid up in luxury if you get top surgery. Supports you even if you’re gnc and don’t bind or don’t plan to transition and would impart his death glare upon anyone who dared to misgender you or treat you poorly.

Papa III: Hope no one shoots me down for saying “Papa III trans man” but *eyes emoji*. He’s gonna recognize your behavior immediately. You sweat at the idea of going to the pool or the beach, you don’t wanna change in front of him, you get nervous if someone calls you pretty instead of handsome. He’ll see you very very discreetly tugging at your binder, or taking deep breaths. And he just knows. And he’s elated. He’s like “OH I AM GONNA MAKE YOU FEEL SO HANDSOME.” Immediately deploys plan “Compliment Anon ‘Til He Dies”. He’s telling you that your hair looks great today, your laugh is so masculine, I love the way your arms look, That shirt is so handsome on you, I’m lucky to have such a wonderful man in my life. Anything it takes to have you know how great you are. If you’re busy melting over the compliments, you might not immediately realize he’s caught on. You’ll probably think he’s just doing his regular Papa III schmoozing. Eventually, it clicks in your head. He’s lauding on you ‘cause he knows. So because he seems so cool with it, you finally work up the nerve to tell him. And he smiles at you and he’s taking his shirt off and whoa whoa WHOA HEY IT’S WORK HOURS MAN- oh. Oh. I see. That’s why. He buttons his shirt back up and pats you on the head and asks if you wanna get top surgery too, and if you say yes he’s literally writing you a check on the spot. He wants you to feel as comfortable in your body as he does in his and if you have any dysphoria woes he is all ears. He’s seriously like ride or die for you bro.

Cardinal Copia/Papa IV: He thinks your nervous behavior is totally normal, only because he is also nervous all the time. So he doesn’t even read into it. He’s totally clueless. You don’t wanna go swimming? Okay, yeah, actually he doesn’t really want to do it either. He’s pale, he’d just get burnt. Let’s stay inside all day in our pajamas. You don’t wanna put your pajamas on in front of him? That is also ok, hell let’s change in different rooms. You don’t even have to explain yourself, he just Gets It™. Eventually if you start wondering why he hasn’t asked about your odd behavior, you’ll just ask him. “Did you notice that I’m kinda… weird, about some stuff?” He’ll say he’s weird about stuff too, why should he pry into your personal business? So you press on and tell him you’re trans. You don’t want anyone else to know, for a myriad of reasons. You might start rambling about it, complaining about stuff, talking about what you want. And he’ll just… listen. Nod sometimes to let you know he’s hearing you, and you can keep going if you want. Finally you’ll end it with an exasperated and maybe slightly embarrassed sigh, but before you can apologize he’s pulling you into a hug. You are free to talk about it as much as you want, especially if you don’t tell anyone else. You’ve got all this stuff weighing on your mind and no one to vent it to, and he’s flattered you finally felt comfortable enough to let him know something so personal. 

Dewdrop: Dare I say it… I headcanon Dewdrop as trans too… He’s much more like me though, feisty and kinda gnc. Like III, he’s gonna catch onto your behavior immediately. He’s not gonna make any moves to let you know that he knows, though. Just quietly be in your corner. Well, as quiet as Dew gets. He’s gonna… violently be in your corner. If he finds out someone misgendered you or committed some related act he considers a heinous crime, they’re losing some teeth. He’ll take a chunk out of them if someone isn’t there to rein him in. Eventually when you confide in him that you’re trans, he’s telling you that’s cool. You ask him why he’s so chill about it and he’s just smirking at you. “What…?” You ask. “Seriously, what? Why- ooohhh…” You’re free to not bind around him because most of the time, he doesn’t. He’s not gonna judge you for anything. Whether you wanna be traditionally masculine or be lax about gender norms, he’s gonna tell you you’re cool as Hell no matter what. Admires your courage in coming out to him and will take your secret to the grave.

Aether: First may I start this off by saying I may or may not have asked Aether, like irl, if he said “trans rights”. To which Aether kindly and genuinely said, “Does [Aether] say “trans rights”? Of course trans rights!” So there you have it Fosters and Peoples. Mr. Quintessential Ghoul himself did indeed say trans rights and I’ve never been happier to have asked someone that. I digress… He’s not gonna focus too much on odd behavior or nerves. It’s not because he’s got his head in the clouds, it’s just because this is a Judgement Free Zone™. If and/or when you come out to him, expect him to say, “Hell yeah, you do what’s right for you!” He’s got your back. If you want help with something, say an outfit or you need a new binder, he’s gonna help you figure it out. If you ask him not to tell anyone else, his lips are sealed. 

Mountain: He is so used to being taller than everyone else so if you’re a short king (like me 5’3 man gang rise up [but not too high]) that does not make him ask any questions. He’s also out of your business when it comes to how you dress, or messing with your shirt, or not wanting to do certain activities, etc. He just… it’s not that he doesn’t care, it’s that he’s chill about everything. So chill in fact that eventually one day you just casually mention it. And he’s like, “Neat, you have lore.” Which is hilarious. He’s probably likely to ask if you’re making sure not to wear your binder for too long. He wants you to take good care of yourself, y’know, you’re really cool and you should treat your body kindly. He’ll ask if anyone else knows and if you tell him you’d rather they not find out immediately, he’s already giving you a thumbs up and making sure any question directed at your gender is immediately shot down.

Swiss: Swiss is too focused on having a good time and being good to everyone who deserves kindness to worry about why or why not you don’t want to go to the pool with them. You’ve got your reasons and that’s enough, although he’ll sorely miss you because he could use the extra help in fending Dew off in the water gun fight that most definitely will end in bloodshed if Aether doesn’t step in. Eventually he’ll convince you to maybe go, but not before you cave and tell him you can’t be seen with your shirt off. He’s smart enough to know what that means. No worries! And you know what? In solidarity he just won’t take his off, either. Will support you regardless of how you choose to present yourself and will sometimes casually gift you a new shirt or something, “because I think you’d look really handsome in it.”

Rain: Tender boy. He literally would not pry or push you to tell him anything you didn’t seem like you wanted to say. If you come out to him, that’s completely on your terms. I think he might eventually have a feeling, but he’s not going to make assumptions about you and will let you tell him when you’re ready, and even if you never do, that’s ok too. When you do tell him, he’s completely supportive and won’t make you feel any less of a man about yourself. Is a bit sad to know that you may struggle with dysphoria and he wants you to know that you’re a wonderful person, inside and out, even if you don’t always see it.

Cirrus: She notices your odd behavior, but she’s polite and chooses not to say anything about it. She doesn’t want to make you feel like she’s judging you or scare you or make you uncomfortable. She probably doesn’t flat out make assumptions about you, but she does think about it occasionally. Eventually when you come out to her, she completely understands. Sings her praises about how nice it is that you trust her enough to tell her something so personal about yourself, and says she’s thankful to have such a great person in her life. Also she’s always been your protective mom friend, but if you need anyone to get punched for saying anything transphobic, just let her know. Mama bear has got you. Mama bear has got claws. Hell, Cumulus will even help beat someone up. She doesn’t even need to know the reason. If Cirrus is verbally or physically abusing someone that’s good enough reason for her. You now have two powerful and protective mom friends, use this power for good.

Cumulus: She’s not gonna notice if you’re acting nervous or weird about anything. She’s focused on hanging out with you and having a good time and making sure you’re having a good time and that fun things are happening. If you go to the beach and don’t take your shirt off, not weird. Neither of you are even in the water, you’re probably making an impressive sand castle on top of a sleeping Mountain. If you’re at the pool, she’s okay with sitting on the side talking your ear off about anything under the sun (which currently includes all the other ghouls as it was a family trip to the pool). She wouldn’t notice if you tugged at your binder or had a higher voice or anything someone might think would be conspicuous. If and/or when you eventually come out to her, she’s like “Ooohhh, okay!” And honestly? She might forget. And then remember. And then forget again, and remember again. It’s just another thing about you, like your hair colour or what music you like. Doesn’t make you any less wonderful to her, and wouldn’t change anything about your relationship.

- @solofreakk

[goldeneyedgirl]

TwiFicMas20 Day 11: Hybrid, once again

It’s so late and I’ve had a day of... futility, so I’m pulling out some Hybrid, which is just the biggest fic I’ve ever attempted and makes me feel slightly woozy. This is a selection of scenes I’ve worked on, with the first one following on from last year’s snippet, for context

A lot of this is set-up to how Alice actually becomes friends with the Cullens and the lead up to her relationship with Jasper. I also love Alice and Cynthia and their gay dads. A lot of this will be changed or rewritten for the Official Version, so I figure it deserves to be immortalised before I start my tear-down. 

Have a great day, I’m off to bed <3 

NSFW NSFW NSFW. (The most graphic section is marked, but there are implications dotted throughout. Use your best judgement.)

Trigger warnings for body dysphoria (minor)

(AU in which Alice is the daughter of a vampire-human hybrid, who was raised in an abusive home, and ends up in the care of her father and his husband in Forks. Hybrid biology is a little different - or rather, expanded - from canon. This was basically my attempt at expanding the Twilight universe beyond vampires and werewolves and examine the idea that humans are really the worst. At this point in the story, Alice has arrived in Forks, had a less than welcoming experience with the Cullen kids and met Dr Cullen in a professional capacity.)

--

It took me the best part of an hour to walk home from the Cullens. My head was still soupy, the Cullens’ home was outside of town, and I had no idea where I was going.

Oh, and it was dark.

And then I had to lie, and tell Dad and Simon some guy had mugged me, since they were freaking out. I had been gone two hours in an unfamiliar town, and had come home with blood on my clothes. Thank god, my hoodie managed to cover up most of the bandage on my neck.

They had promptly freaked out even more, and called the Chief of Police to report the incident I completely faked, whilst I went upstairs for a shower, peeling off the bandages to get a load of the wound. Angry black sutures ran from an inch or so below my ear, to where my neck joined my shoulder in an uneven line. It made me feel a little woozy, in all honesty. And it would be almost impossible to hide from everyone.  Maybe I could wear a scarf, and claim I wasn’t used to the cold?

And the bruise on my back was impressive, even for me. It was already darkening, and I had no doubt that it would only get worse overnight. An experimental jab to my ribs made the room spin, which made me want to cry. If there was one thing I hated more than anything on the planet, it was broken ribs.

I somehow managed to shower and change into a pair of loose pyjamas that covered all evidence of my injuries without blacking out. My head wouldn’t clear, and when Simon brought up something for me to eat, I could hear the slur in my voice. Dr Cullen must have drugged me.

It took forever for me to find a tolerable position in bed, and I ended up sleeping on my stomach, my arm cradling my ribs. My dreams – thankfully, just dreams – were soupy horror replays of Jasper’s attack; the scrape of his teeth, the tearing, the warmth of my own blood…

… how good it had felt.

When my alarm finally went off after what felt like an hour, I was sleep deprived, grumpy, and in complete agony. I could barely clamber out of bed. I wriggled out of my pajamas, and stared at myself in the mirror. The bruising covered my side was varying shades of black and blue, spread over my shoulder, ribs and back, down to the base of my spine and hip. There was a little swelling, but nothing really worth mentioning.

I ended up finding a button-up dress that I could get into with minimal discomfort, that covered up the bruises, and some of the stitches. Adding a sweater covered the rest up, and I spent nearly half an hour layering concealer and foundation over my pinched and pale face. I swallowed a handful of Advil to help the pain, before I limped downstairs.

Other than a quick reassurance that I was fine, Dad and Simon didn’t bring up last night’s ‘mugging’, and within an hour, I was limping awkward across the Forks High car park, in what felt like a new adventure in pain.

My ribs were probably fractured. God, I was kidding myself. They were definitely fractured. I just needed some decent pain-killer and medical tape, and I’d feel better. This wasn’t exactly a new experience, but it didn’t mean that they were any less uncomfortable, or I was any less miserable.

Luckily, everyone seemed to have lost interest in me as ‘the new girl’, so I limped through the halls without being stared at, or interrupted. Swinging open my locker, I gratefully shoved my bag inside – even carrying it by hand put too much weight on my back and ribs. I’d have to swap books after each class so I could carry them comfortably. Another cherry on top of my awful, hideous day.

Suddenly, there was another person beside me, staring intently. If my nerves weren’t already made of adamantium, I probably would have jumped or shrieked in surprised.

“Good morning,” Edward said.

“Morning,” I said, turning from digging through my books, trying to disguise the stiffness of my movements.

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked politely, and I wanted to laugh at his slightly-creepy attempts at small talk. That isn’t a question you normally ask someone you just met, out of nowhere. Did they just not socialize with anyone who didn’t consider A Positive a main course?

“Sure.”

“You should sit with us at lunch,” Edward said in a flat tone, watching me with the sort of look my doctors had always used. It had unnerved me then, and it irritated me now; made me feel like an experiment all over again. If I hadn’t been wounded, I would have accepted the inevitable dislocated fingers and slapped him.

Dislocated fingers are easy to pop back into place.

“Can’t wait,” I said dismissively, mentally praising myself for taking the higher ground, and turned back to my locker, hoping Edward hadn’t noticed how awkwardly I was moving.

Edward watched me rifle through my locker before sighing and walking away, looking pained. I had to resist the urge to stick my tongue out at him, instead slamming my locker and shuffling to my first class.

--

Lunch was bad. I got a sandwich, and limped to the Cullens’ table, where they all stared as I sat. Quite frankly, every time I took a seat, the world around me swam before my eyes.

I took a seat at the end of the table, ignoring the glances that the Cullens were shooting me as I opened my soda, and unwrapped the sandwich.

“Is that for our benefit?” Rosalie asked boredly, nodding towards the sandwich, with a vague sneer of disgust on her face.

I shook my head. “Only for mine,” I said dully, studying my food. It hadn’t occurred to me that my lunch would smell terrible to them, only that I needed to eat so I could take some more painkiller. I hadn’t even really paid attention to their trays – I could see now that they were dotted with cans of soda, fruit, and packaged snacks. Nothing that would smell especially offensive to them – Mom had once told me that it was the preservatives and ingredients mixed together that were the worst to vampire sense; that, and that they could smell decay much faster than humans.

Lunch passed slowly – Edward and Bella chatted quietly, and every so often one of the other Cullens would make a comment, but mostly we sat in silence. I picked at my lunch, and felt my back throb in pain, before the bell finally rung, and they all moved to collect their trays and bags.

I was irritated – why invite me to eat at their table for lunch, when it had been awkward, uncomfortable, and no one had talked?

Whatever. I struggled to my feet and silently left, pausing only to dump my tray, and headed to the library to hide out until the end of the day.

//

Bella was staring at me as I changed out of my gym clothes, the two of us the last ones in the locker room.

“Is that where Jasper…?” she asked as I tugged my shirt on, my jacket following. My back was a rainbow of black, purple and green; so bad that I’d been forced to wear dark colours – you could see the marks through lighter-coloured fabric.

“Uh huh,” I said. “Brick wall, meet spine.”

“They’re pretty worried about you,” Bella said as I carefully shouldered my bag. “Carlisle and Esme want to see you again.”

“They don’t have to worry about me,” I shrugged and winced, regretting the movement. So, I didn’t quite have my full-range of movement back just yet. “I’m fine.”

Bella watched as I gathered my stuff. “They still need an explanation.”

“They’ll be waiting awhile – they clearly told you everything,” I said flatly. It was unspoken, but they clearly expected me not to say anything about them and their secrets, yet they were blabbing my secrets around.  

“You owe it to them, you know everything,” she informed me snootily.

I whipped around, enough for the pain in my back to flare hotly, which just made me madder. “I owe them nothing,” I snapped at her. “They clearly can’t keep their mouths shut when they don’t know anything, so why would I tell them more? And don’t sit there, all high-and-mighty, Bella Swan. You know nothing.”

And I stormed off.

--

Bella clearly ran and tattled on me to Edward, because after school, I saw the Cullens glaring at me as I walked towards the bus. Well, Edward was giving me Death Glares

//

Dr Cullen finally cornered me for a physical, telling Simon to bring me over on Saturday morning. I nearly threw a fit, even though my dreams the night before had made it clear that I wouldn’t be getting out of it easily.

My dreams about Jasper were getting more and more vivid, and the idea of physical contact was so unbearable, I was jumping and flinching when Simon and Dad were getting too close to me. Which was a problem, since Simon was a hugger.

I was sick to my stomach when Simon took me over, clutching the smoothie he’d made me for breakfast. I was wearing loose yoga pants and a t shirt under a sweatshirt to keep everything covered.

Dr Cullen hissed as he saw me in my underwear – the webbing over my chest, the bites on my throat and arms, the angry scar at the back of my left leg, the angry marks on my rib cages.

“What on earth happened to you, Alice?” he asked.

“Hard life,” I shrugged, crossing my arms over my chest. “Can we get this over with?”

“Of course,” Dr Cullen nodded.

—

More than one morning, I’d woken up from my dreams about Jasper with my hand between my legs, sweaty and panting and absolutely ashamed – even sick to my stomach.

All of the Cullen children had made it clear I was their friend out of necessity, rather than interest, and that Rose and Edward barely tolerated me. The idea of a genuine friendship with Jasper was a pipe-dream, let alone an opportunity to recreate my dreams.

Even as my inner-voice pointed out that they weren’t dreams.

And besides, sex was something that was not a good idea. At all. I wasn’t a virgin and I hadn’t been in years. I still had terrors and flashbacks to those terrible, monstrous experiences, I couldn’t imagine it being good, let alone as pleasurable as my brain claimed it would be. In the harsh light of day, I didn’t want anybody touching me.

And who would even want to, with my skinny, scarred body. The curves I had were easily hidden by my clothing.  Short hair. Sour disposition. I’d be alone forever.

It was raining, which suited my mood perfectly when I arrived at school. With the Cullens’ tentative acceptance of me, at least at lunch, I had isolated myself even more from the rest of the student body.

There had been entire days when answering roll call and greeting the Cullens at lunch where the only words I spoke. My personal best was eight words.

I drifted from class to class, finally getting to the cafeteria and claiming my lunch. A soda, an apple and a brownie – there was no way I was going to even pretend to eat the runny tuna salad or the luminous orange mac and cheese.

I hadn’t said anything to Dr Cullen, but I knew my physiology was not coping with my current diet. I was tired and sluggish, eating just two meals a day. In the hospital, I’d had free access to as much milk and as many snacks as I needed. Now, I had to pretend I was normal, and was failing kind of badly, since Simon found the amount of food I packed away at meal times ridiculous.

“Hey,” Emmett nodded at me as I arrived at the table.

“Hey,” I said, taking a seat next to Bella, and opened my soda, and pulled my homework out.

It was the most painless way to fill in the lunch hour – reading was rude, and no one wanted to talk. So, schoolwork.

“You going to eat that?” Rosalie interrupted me.

I looked up. I’d drunk half the soda – revolting diet raspberry had been the only flavor left – and picked at the brownie over the half an hour, but none of it held any interest.

“Probably not,” I said, turning back to my math homework.

“You should.”

Why was Rosalie still talking to me?

“It’s pretty gross,” I said, not looking up. “I’ll eat at home.”

“Bella eats it,” Rosalie said, gesturing at Bella’s empty tray.

“Rosalie,” Edward scowled, as Bella blushed prettily at being the center of attention.

“Bella clearly has a less discerning palate,” I said, closing my books and standing up. “If it’s so important to you, you can eat it, Rosalie.”

And I flounced off.

//

For some unholy reason, Simon and Dad had decided to have a pre-Thanksgiving cocktail party for their co-workers and friends. I stayed out of the planning and decorating, spending my time buried in my homework and ignoring everything around me.

Why Simon decided to invite the entire Cullen clan and Bella and her father, I have no idea. Maybe some misguided attempt to help me socialize. God, I hoped not.

But that meant, the afternoon before Thanksgiving I put on one of the dresses Simon had bought me – with tights – and went downstairs to help set up.

The Cullen kids seemed less than enthused to see me, though Edward was clearly pleased to see Bella.

“I’d apologise, but it wasn’t my idea,” I said as I walked past Emmett and Rosalie with a tray of glasses.

“This will be fun,” Emmett said cheerfully. “We never get to see humans in their natural habitat.”

—

Jasper found me sitting in the kitchen, staring out at the backyard.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” I replied, standing up. “Do you need something?”

“No. It just gets a bit much, so many people in one place, with alcohol. Overwhelming,” he shrugged.

“I get it,” I said. “I mean, I can’t imagine what it’s like for your gift. But I get being overwhelmed.”

He offered me a crooked smile. I smiled shyly back, and began stacking dirty glasses. What to say?

“Carlisle is worried about you.”

Apparently, the topic at hand was me.

“He shouldn’t,” I said, as I began to pack the dishwasher. “I’m okay.”

“Esme too – she’s desperate for you to come over to our place so she can attempt to mother you to death,” he continued.

I thought of Mrs Cullen almost longingly for a moment – how sweet and kind she was. Nothing like Mom – Mom had never been warm and fuzzy. Mrs Cullen seemed like she’d be a good mom.

“She’s sweet, but I’m okay, really.”

“Don’t lie to an empath, Alice. I know exactly how you feel.” The ghost of a smirk played at his mouth and I turned to finish gathering up dirty cutlery.

“So how do I feel?” I asked, looking over my shoulder.

Jasper met my gaze. “Like starlight – bright and beautiful, but distant. There’s sadness and longing, ferocity and loyalty, all hidden behind a very tall wall.”

//

Within fifteen minutes, I was being pressed into the couch, with the delicious weight of Jasper on top of me. Somehow, I was down to my tank top, and I was nearly positive the first few buttons of my jeans had been undone. Jasper’s mouth moved down my jaw, to my throat, and I sighed in delight. My hands slipped down, fumbling to get underneath. As my fingers grazed the hard flesh of his stomach, I heard him moan against my throat and I smiled.

“We should stop,” he murmured in my ear.

“Why?” I asked, choosing that moment to shift, aligning our hips, and hitching my knees up. He groaned, pressing me even harder into the couch, one hand tangling in my hair as he pulled me into a scorching kiss.

The sound of the back door opening was very distant, and it didn’t register properly until Simon’s cheerful voice broke the moment.

“Having some good, wholesome fun, kids?” he said.

Jasper only just barely managed to climb off me at human speed, and I half fell off the couch.

Simon was standing there, clutching a bag of groceries, looking amused. Cynthia was standing beside him, her jaw on the floor. Mostly likely because one of the famous Cullens was in her house, making out with her sister.

--

When Dad roped me into helping with the washing up, I knew he and Simon were going to corner me. And they did.

“Alice,” Dad said carefully, as I started wrapping up the leftovers. “Simon told me about how he found you and Jasper Hale this afternoon, and we wanted to chat with you.”

“It won’t happen again,” I said, my eyes firmly on the bowl of leftover couscous.

“That’s not what we’re worried about, sweetheart,” Simon said. “Though, yes, we might need to make some rules about boys in the house. But Alice… how long have you known this boy?”

I frowned, and looked over my shoulder. How did I explain that I knew Jasper, had known him for years? That with our gifts, the second we had met, this had been inevitable.

“Since I met him at school,” I said carefully. “It kind of happened.”

“You’re smart, Alice, and … we’re only saying this because we love you and we don’t want you to get hurt. But it’s only be a couple of weeks, and what I saw this afternoon looked very serious,” Simon continued, giving my father a Look.

“Honey, with the horrible things that happened to you, we just don’t want you to rush into sex and a physical relationship,” Dad finished. “Sometimes it can seem like it might make the hurt and the fear go away, but it doesn’t if you rush into it.”

Oh god. This was horrifying. “Jasper and I weren’t… we aren’t…” I managed, before taking a deep breath. “We aren’t having sex. We aren’t planning on sex yet. He knows I have issues.”

Simon and Dad exchanged looks. “Okay,” Dad said finally

//

NSFW

//

I was trembling slightly as Jasper settled between my thighs, kissing me softly. I was aware of everything – my nudity, Jasper’s nudity, the scent of flowers and fabric softener from my bedding. The coil of warmth in my lower stomach, the circles Jasper was gently tracing on my hip.

“How are you feeling?” he murmured. I could feel him, cool and impossibly hard against my thigh, and I let out a shuddering breath.

“I’m okay,” I managed. “Just nervous. It’s going to hurt.”

“Oh darlin’,” he pressed a kiss to my lips. “If it hurts, I’ll stop. If you want me to, I’ll stop.”

I nodded. “Can you help me a little?” I whispered. “Just a little.”

“If you’re sure?” he said and I nodded. He kissed me deeply, one hand sliding down my thigh to guide my leg around his waist. The warmth in my stomach spread, and the fear seemed to fade. I found myself rocking against him slightly, making indecent sounds.

It didn’t hurt too badly; not like the other times, but I didn’t want to think about those. Proportionately, it was always going to be slightly awkward and uncomfortable the first time around. I knew it would get better, I had seen how good at this we’d become.

That thought just made me press closer to him.

“You’re so warm,” he groaned in my ear, kissing a trail to my neck. I gripped his shoulders, smirking to myself as he began to lick and suck at the juncture of my neck; a vampire with a neck fetish.

//

As I came back down to earth, panting and loose-limbed, Jasper moved about me, carefully but more erratically than before, his eyes darkening to pitch black. And without warning, he flung himself away from me, standing halfway across the room in less than a second.

“I need a moment,” he rasped, panting, his gaze firmly on me. Fuck. He looked like a god, standing there, his blackened gaze firmly on me. I wasn’t sure if it was his gift, the way he looked, but the warmth was building in my stomach again.

//

My mother always talked about vampire mating practices, and made it sound monstrous. Brutal sex, a violent bite to mark each other, and the bond settling over you, like invisible manacles. Cold and vicious, it was meant to be the ultimate unbreakable claim.  

In reality, it was nothing like that; his fingers stroking me, his arm around my waist, and then his mouth on my breast, his teeth biting down as I came apart in his arms, and then the soft lap of his tongue as he closed the wound.

//

Jasper slipped out before dawn with a deep kiss that I felt in my toes, his gaze glued to the throw I had hastily wrapped around myself, so that the neighbours wouldn’t catch me hanging out of my window naked.

“Dad and Simon won’t be home for hours,” I murmured as I leant in for another kiss. “Stay.”

“Alice,” he groaned, nuzzling my cheek. “Don’t tempt me. You need some sleep – and if I stay, there won’t be any sleep. I’ll see you later.”

I scowled but nodded, kissing him one last time. “Go.”

He jumped from my window, and I turned around. I needed clean sheets, a shower, and some sleep.

I just couldn’t stop smiling.

Jasper’s bite stood out on the side of my left breast, raised and pink, though it was already healing. It would fade into my skin over the next day, little more than a shadow against my skin until I touched it and felt the ridges of his teeth-marks. Finally, a bite mark that didn’t make me feel disfigured, or one that would be awkward to cover up. The memory of his teeth in my skin made me shiver; how his teeth were so sharp that it didn’t hurt, and his soft growling purrs, as he licked the wound; the slight sting of the vemon, his lips and fingers grazing the closed wound with such gentle love…

I tumbled back into my bed, with clean sheets and wet hair. I did feel different. I felt peaceful, secure, and loved. I felt human for the first time in a long time.

And I slept without nightmares.

I dreamt, as well, of Jasper getting home and Emmett’s whoop of amusement, and subsequent teasing. Of Edward losing his shit over the idea of a vampire having sex with a human. Of Carlisle being vaguely concerned, Esme looking amused, and Rosalie pissed off that they’d acquired another human pet. She’d be even more of a delight after this, I knew it.

“Wake up, sleepyhead!” I jerked awake to Simon knocking on my door.

//

[citruscisco2]

You. Are. A. Man!

Five Hargreevs x Trans!Male Reader

Plot: The reader is a transgender male who is struggling with body dysphoria and tries to deal with being reminded that he was once a female. Five is there to support him and remind him that the reader is indeed a man.

Author’s Note: To be honest, it felt weird writing this. I’m a female and I don’t feel like I should be writing this. I feel like someone with these actual experiences should write this. This is also why I’m turning to my friend Axel, who is transgender and having him help me write this. I would love to write more stuff like this in the future, so please send in more requests! Also, if you’re struggling with body dysphoria, please feel free to talk to me about what’s going on. I love you guys and I wanna help ya’ll! I love you guys and remember that you’re all special in your own way! Also go check out my Wattpad!

Warnings: BODY DYSPHORIA! Basically, if you’re sensitive to any content regarding transphobia I guess.

Requested: Yes by @rainbow-depresso-expresso​

Key: E/C = Eye color; B/T = Body type; S/C = Skin color

                                                         ⁂

     My chest ached at the feeling of my binder crushing the two lumps of fat that remained hanging on my body. Then again, it’s my fault for making it so tight, but I’ve been wearing it all day. I just wanted to look completely flat; is that too much to ask for? To be born with the correct body and to have people accept you for who you are? I just want to look how I was meant to be born; I wanted to be born a man. Is that too hard? Is it too hard to be accepted for who I want to be, who I was meant to be? I’m not harming anyone, yet only a handful of people in my life support me rather than everyone. These people are the only reason why I stay sane. They’re the only reason I haven’t given up my dream of having top surgery. Though, the topic of transitioning from female to male didn’t settle well with my parents.

   Here I am, standing in front of my body mirror with tears brimming my (E/C) eyes which were glaring at my (B/T) (S/C) body. I hate it. I hate my body. I hate every damn thing about it! I couldn’t even look at myself without feeling the dysphoria creeping up my back like it’s a damn spider. I can’t even look down without seeing the two lumps of fat on my chest and what lies between my legs, I can’t even tell my parents about what I’m feeling because I know what their views on transgender people, and they’re not positive.

     It hurts to know that you can’t become who you want to be; who you are meant to be. It fucking hurts to hear people call you something that you’re not and to be constantly reminded that you’re different, and when people think of different, they think, “Oh, that’s weird.” Weird eventually leads to people thinking the people or things that are weird as inferior to them. It’s beneath them. Do you know how much it hurts to hear your loved ones bash the people in your community just because they’re different and think that they’re weird? They say those things then turn right to you and tell you that they love you for who you are. No, they don’t, but then again, they don’t know I’m the very thing they despise.

     It’s scary to know they if they found out your secret, you’ll change right before their eyes into a hideous, mutated monster. They’ll kick you out, act like they don’t know you, humiliate you and force you to wear the clothes they want you to wear, and they’ll do whatever they can do to convince you it’s a phase and you aren’t who you think you are. I’m terrified of the day they remind me constantly of the things that make me what they want me to be.

     I’m so fucking insecure about how my shirt hugs my body, and how I can’t wear underwear without wanting to bawl my eyes out because they’re not boxers. Sure, I have other insecurities that everyone else has, such as how some people don’t like the size of their nose, the color of their eyes, or even the amount of fat they have on their bodies. I can’t change myself though without anyone really noticing what I’m trying to achieve. I had to convince my parents I was just going through a phase just so I could get my hair cut short enough to where it chopped off some of the dysphoria I carried around.

     You wanna know what hurts the most, though? Fearing that the love of your life is going to leave you for who you are. You fear that soon he’ll realize the mistake he’s made and walk right out the door. He’ll lose feelings and start to distance himself, whether he realizes it or not. He said he loved you, but he can’t just be with you. Maybe somewhere he still loves you, right? He loved you, did he though? If he really loved you, he would’ve stayed and worked shit out, but instead, he became disgusted with who he associated himself with.

     It first starts with him not wanting to kiss you in public. You think that he just hasn’t been comfortable with PDA lately and wants to limit it, so you brush it off. You don’t even point it out to him when you’re alone and continue to tolerate it. Soon enough it escalates into not wanting to hold your hand in public. It hurts, but you don’t bother him. It’s not until he stops doing these things even when you’re alone that it starts to bother you. It hurts, but you’re too scared to bring it up and accidentally start a fight. This isn’t the first time something like this happened to you, so you didn’t push him. You’ve learned from your mistakes, haven’t you? Your world comes crashing down and the nightmares you’ve been having for the past week finally come true. He doesn’t bother saying that he’s sorry, or that he wishes you two could just stay friends. No, he just walks right out the door without even looking back at you to see if you’re okay because he knows you’re not. He knows he broke your already cracked heart into dust, and he couldn’t give two shits.

     Why would he though? Why would he want a monster like you? An abomination, that’s what you are. He couldn’t stand the thought of associating himself with you. He couldn’t handle the stares the two of you received in public. At first, you both just assumed it was because you were both men, but now he realizes it’s more than that. It’s because you’re trying to change yourself into someone you’re not. He was ashamed to be seen with you; to love you. He had to leave, he needed to. It was for the sake of his reputation he had said. He couldn’t stand to be with you because of the fact of who you are; of what you are. It’s all because you’re transgender.

     As these thoughts ran through my head, my eyes grew increasingly more blurry due to salty tears blocking my vision. I felt both my bottom lip and knees tremble as my breathing grew more ragged, and it suddenly felt as if all air was cut off from my lung. My eyes screwed shut and my lips tightened shut, forcing myself to conceal my sobs. My legs gave out from underneath me, causing me to collapse to the carpeted ground of my bedroom floor and lower my head. I couldn’t look in that damned mirror anymore. A heart-wrenching wail forced itself from my body, and the sobs just came pouring out. My hands found themselves buried in my short (H/C) hair, tugging so hard at the strands that I thought I was going to rip them from my own scalp. Sob after sob, I continued to cry for what seemed like forever. Both my head and heart pounded in agony. My hands trembled and my chest heaved up and down at an increasingly fast pace as I tried to gasp for a single breath between my cries.

     Fear shot up my spine as my chest ached for a different reason. I couldn’t breathe. I tugged harder at my hair and clawed at the back of my neck, hoping more pain would force my body to fight for its life and help me regain my breath. It felt like a lump of some wort was lodged in my throat, causing my body to heave forward as if I were gagging. Not to mention my nose was clogged up with snot. My vision grew foggy and my face grew hot. Would this be how I die? A pathetic mess?

     I felt two arms quickly wrap around my waist and pull me into their chest. I could feel the rough texture of their jacket, but their shirt under the jacket felt smooth and soft. I could faintly hear their voice, shushing me and telling me something. They sounded calm, not panicked at all. Their touch was gentle as they brought my head to their chest, gently stroking my back with one hand and using the other to pull me close. It was still loose enough to where it didn’t feel as if I was suffocating.

     I saw the familiar umbrella tattoo on the person’s wrist and the logo I had seen so many times on the person’s jacket. Only one Umbrella Academy member still wore their jacket, mostly because they were stuck in a teenager’s body and those were the only clothes that fit him. Not to mention he was too stubborn to go out and by clothes for boys his age. Physically his age, that is. I never pushed Five too many times to buy the clothes I’d die to see him wear because I just wanted him comfortable and happy. Plus, who am I to hell him what he can and cannot wear?

     I was able to faintly smell the cologne he wore daily, calming me down just a tad. My throat finally ceased and allowed me to gasp for a small bit of air, but it didn’t stop me from hyperventilating. Five gently rocked me back and forth as best as he could, continuing to softly shush me and rub small circles on my back. I could finally make out what he was saying.

     “It’s gonna be okay,” he mumbled, humming a soft tune that always seemed to calm me down. “I’m gonna need you to do something for me, dear, can you do that?” I whimpered pathetically and managed to nod in affirmation. He nods and continues. “I want you to breathe with me, okay?” I nod once more, desperate to come down from my panic. He starts his breathing off at a moderately fast pace, almost matching with my own. I was able to match my breathing with his own as I gripped his dark blazer. His breathing gradually slowed down, and as did mine. This wasn’t the first time Five’s had to help me, so I knew what to expect.  Once my breathing was stable enough, he spoke again. “Do you need anything?” he softly asked, reaching over and grabbing a soft blanket that laid upon my bed.

     “You,” I managed to choke out. My eyes burned from the salty tears, and my head ached from crying. He nods and drapes the blanket around my body and tilts my head up so he can see my face. His eyes are glazed over with empathy and care. He gently strokes my cheek with his thumb and gently presses his lips against my forehead.

     “I’m not going anywhere my dear,” he assures me, tightening his embrace just a tad bit. “Do you want to talk about what happened?” I shake my head no at his question. “Do you want to talk about something good that happened today?” I’m silent at his question. Taking a deep breath, fluttering my eyes shut and trying to focus on speaking properly.

     “I-I was able to put to...together an outfit that-that made me feel really masculine today,” I start off, pausing as I felt my voice grow shaky as I spoke. I breathed slowly through my nose and continued. “It-It was a pair of khakis that stopped at my knees, and-and the polo Klaus had given me for my birthday.”

     “The light green one with the lemons on it?” I nod in affirmation. My heart swoons at the fact he remembers something as little as that.

     “Yeah, I-I was also able to finish the load of homework that the school gave us,” I added. He smiles softly and kisses the top of my head.

     “See, I told you you could get it done! I’m so proud of you,” he praises softly, keeping his voice low. He continues to ask me questions about my day, focusing on the positive aspects of it.

     With a clear and calm mindset, I know none of that would happen with Five. Sure, it’s happened in the past, but Five’s different - very different considering he can teleport and he’s mentally an old man. I know I can always rely on him when it comes to shit like this. He knows I can be a bit much during times like these, and he knows that I’ll end up looking pretty fucking gross. He doesn’t care though. He’s seen a lot of shit in his life, so a red face covered in tears and snot isn’t gonna bother him. He loves me, and he’s told me this an abundance amount of times.

     After helping me clean up, we both lay down on my bed with my back against his chest. He wraps one arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him. His chin rest on the top of my head, humming the same soft melody he sang earlier. I felt my eyes droop as a wave of exhaustion came crashing over me. My eyes would fall shut and snap back open as I would realize I was slowly falling asleep, but falling asleep meant I wouldn’t be able to hear his voice anymore.

     “Get some sleep, my dear, I’ll be here when you wake,” he mumbled softly. That was the last thing I heard before falling asleep peacefully in his arms with a small smile on my face and a heart full of love.

[familiaanteomnia]

warnings: body image/dysphoria, toxic masculinity, mentions of the b.ondage pics, uh maybe some others whoops -given how clearly sean forces football onto nate, it is easily clear in general with other hints and all there’s that ‘you’ve gotta be an man about this’ which carries even more weight which sean buys him onto that team with no regard for nate’s body structure or safety. (and not nate doing it to please his dad be an good son/it’s ‘expected’ of prescott men,etc ditto the college situation/adds to his desire to just want his fathers approval/love/acceptance again) -also adds more depth to the diet pills/how much he probably more than overworks himself to be less slender, more muscle and all (though probably some natural muscle definition) -the clothing! we see him go from an collared shirt, sweater into that dressed up/not so dressed up multiple layers situation which jacket/vest/tshirt, tank or whatever depending also the shift from changing clothes but an uniform into another uniform of sorts (ahem the dysphoria habit of sticking to 1 specific outfit even if with minor fluctuations or none at all) it also serves the whole conflict in an sense of rich boy/dressed up appearance and you know teen guy that’s kinda like slams that with dressed down cause it works? -anger issues part of his mental illness but also if he was on t, that inability to cry can be an actual bitch and make emotions bottle up,etc which if go with time frame in general baby boy to more young man puberty generally can mess with mental illness,etc thus more of why the decline could have been so rapid -obsession with trying to keep his hair in check, tamed etc (worries about it seeming not masculine especially the curls? even if can only ever reduce them to waves) plus as all said dude having issues with how he is perceived,etc also same with freckles an “girly” trait in his eyes -sean being accepting in an weird, kinda messed up way like finally an son/first born son (his father is probably like way more narrow eyes about it but yeah) adds to nate’s whole sexuality situation/why it seems he admires girls but isn’t like an major playboy actually -which leads me to the b.ondage art, i don’t think it’s all you know with that intent? more like probably as i think the art he likes/leans to speaks an lot about him etc it could be his way of coming to peace with himself in an interesting way... also despite his room being mostly for him kinda performative like if somebody sees stuff like that they’ll go oh straight, cis ‘creepy’ rich boy. etc when he just as an artist is like hey that’s pretty aesthetic and (it’s an form of coming to terms very vaguely with himself the whole trust/giving up control,etc of it all) -anyways my head keeps dying so, i dont know if this is coherent sure isnt the whole saga of stuff but yes he could in fact be both still whatever version of nate+ so happen to be trans or trans+whatever else-

[gogo-karasuno]

Could I request Asahi and a trans male reader?

Just throwing this out there...I fucking love this ask. I’m nonbinary so I fall under the greater umbrella of Trans. Getting to write about readers that are like me in some form or fashion is really nice.

- - - -

- When you come out to Asahi know that he’s so soft with you. If you do cry or don’t he will still be crying. He’s so happy that you trust him with such a personal secret. That’s followed up with him assuring you of how much you mean to him because nothing is every changing that.

- On his own he starts reading up on Trans Issues and general things he should know. It’s one thing to be vaguely aware of what should or should not be said but that isn’t enough anymore. There’s probably a good chance you’ll have to assure him that he wasn’t bad before. It’s great that he’s reading up and learning more!

- When he asks you specific questions there’s some stammering and stuttering and apologizing as he voices them. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Many of the questions are asking for clarification on things or specifics for he wants to know for you. How would you like to be addressed? What is okay to be mentioned in public? There’s a thousand things while he’s sweating bullets because he doesn’t want to impose.

- Walking around town or school with Asahi and holding his hand is a leisurely experience. Yeah, there may be some looks but no one wants to rile up someone who looks as intimidating as him. You know he’s a big softie but a lot of others just do not know that.

- You now have eleven brothers (Tsukki takes a bit to bond with anyone but you eventually get there; thank Tadashi and Yachi) and two sisters. The Boy’s Volleyball Club adopts you in because you’re dating Asahi. No matter your year there’s someone there with you. Tanaka and Noya are the rowdiest because you’ve seen them. Noya may actually be the worst because he’s so close to Asahi.

- A little known secret is that Asahi’s into fashion, in general, but also likes to design clothes. It’s not a thing you realize at first glance but when you think it makes sense. He’s this huge, buff guy so it’s safe to assume he doesn’t have a lot of variety in off the rack clothing. He fixed that problem himself. The first time you hint at how awkward clothes shopping is or can be he’s ready to help. Sometimes it’s altering things or just make some pieces for you himself. He wants you to be comfortable and happy. If you really want to make his day then ask him to teach you how he does things. Even just asking questions makes it a couples activity. 

- Speaking of clothes then please steal his. Borrow his sweaters, t-shirts, and jackets when you get the chance. One, they smell like him so that’s already a fantastic perk. Two, he helps style them to suit you and your look so you know you’ll look badass.

- To really get him excited for a game ask to borrow his team jacket. Seeing you in the stands or on the sidelines supporting his team makes him beam with pride.

- I see him as being a sort of touchy person because he wants to know you’re there. It’s not something you see as much in public but in private that’s when it shines. Every day he asks what you’re okay with that day, especially if you have dysphoria. Asahi doesn’t want to make something even more difficult. He also checks in throughout the day to see if anything has changed. When you say stop everything stops.

[blitz-and-hearth]

Some empty cups family trans headcanons because I’m feeling dysphoric after being called she all Thanksgiving and need that good shit right now (tw for talking about periods, dysphoria, and transphobia) And when I say empty cups, I mean all the empty cups so long post beware 

Blitzen figured it out at a very young age, his father Bili had some nonbinary leanings (but didn’t know it was a thing when he was young) so he encouraged little Blitz to experiment with gender expression to his heart’s content  

He was probably about 7 or 8 when he decided to start going by male pronouns 

Blitzen is his birth name, dwarven names are usually pretty gender-neutral. He didn’t feel like he needed to change it 

Thanks to both male and female dwarves growing beards he’s pretty comfortable in his own skin even after puberty. He does end up getting top surgery the very minute he can though. Has no plans for bottom surgery 

BUTTON UP SHIRTS AND LAYERS ALL THE TIME 

It's just a transmasc thing

And you know he’s always wearing suits and ties not just because they’re fashionable but make him very euphoric

Dwarven culture isn’t much better than humans when it comes to accepting trans folk, however, they do consider cosmetic surgery a craft, so their own rules mean they have to respect any and all transitioning surgeries  

Mostly Blitzen just doesn’t talk about it much unless someone else brings it up. His father never made a big deal out of it so neither does he

Mostly situational dysphoria, when he’s around his mother or other people who knew him before he transition, other dwarves who can better tell the different subtleties of cis dwarf gender, and of course on the dreaded shark week 

Humans and Midgard are both awesome because they see the beard and can’t tell the difference between “male” vs “female” facial hair like other dwarves do. Very easy to pass there 

Hearthstone obviously was not in a safe place to explore his gender growing up

On top of all the other shit he had going on during his childhood he was constantly feeling wrong and uncomfortable in his own body 

Lots of dissociation and frustration

Alderman wouldn’t let him cut his hair, forced him to wear dresses, and constantly said shit like “bE mOrE lAdYlIkE”  

Hearthstone finally figures it out after accidentally stumbling across some websites while trying to research magic. It's just a post on a blog about some spell for good luck to help with transitioning but it’s how he learns being trans is like a real thing 

It was both great to know there were other people like him but also like the worst possible news because he knows he could never ever come out and transition while living under his parent’s roof 

He was only about 13 and lots of tears were had that night

The very next day he has his first period and just can not anymore 

Full snap, cuts his hair short for the very first time, binds his chest grabs what little he owns and gets the hell out of there that day 

Meets Blitzen like right after so needless to say he didn’t get much time to explore. He wasn’t about to come out to someone he just met, that shits scary what would he do if Blitzen didn’t accept him? He wouldn’t be strong enough to try world jumping for weeks and wouldn’t survive in Nidavellir without the sunbed 

Blitzen had his suspicions but obviously understood why he’d be nervous about coming out, so he just kept his mouth shut about it until Hearthstone felt like talking about it 

I’ve made a post about this before, but it happens on accident while Hearth is changing because a) he wasn’t allowed to lock doors growing up b) wouldn’t notice if you knocked to see if he’s in there anyway 

What’s not reflected in the comic is Blitzen silently screaming because Hearth has been using ace bandages to bind does he know how dangerous that is???? But he didn’t say anything about it right then because this was a sensitive situation and he wanted to make sure Hearthstone knew he was in the same boat and nothing would change before starting to scold him  

Hearthstone cried a lot

It's a big moment that builds their friendship and later romantic relationship and after that Hearthstone starts being a lot more honest about his past with Blitzen

Hearthstone isn’t his birth name, his dead name is probably something to do with flowers, super feminine and he hated it. He doesn’t have a real reason for choosing Hearthstone since it was a bit spur of the moment when Blitzen asked his name. Blitz later asked if he’s sure that's what he wants to go with and Hearthstone decides to stick with it 

Part of the deal with Mimir was his parents forgetting that he was born female. It really was no question at all which choice he’d take 

(Inge remembers but respects his pronouns because she’s a fucking decent person) 

It’s the only reason Alderman didn’t constantly misgender and deadname him. Being in his old home and seeing his father still reminds him of how it used to be though 

Hearth has more bad dysphoria days than good. Blitzen is always right there to tell him he looks handsome and very masculine today. Blitz doesn’t have as many bad dysphoria days but you bet your ass when he does Hearthstone will absolutely provide a constant flow of compliments until he starts to feel better   

Hearthstone used runes to transition because if you’re trans you’ve totally daydreamed about how awesome and less scary it would be if magic was real. He offered Blitzen to do the same but Blitz had already had top surgery and doesn't really want bottom surgery so he turns it down 

Magnus was also encouraged to try exploring his gender from a young age by his mother 

I mean.... Just take a moment look at Magnus’ mom for a sec 

Yeah that woman ain’t straight Magnus had a good childhood while she was around 

I still think it took him a while though

Just because he didn’t really think about it much until puberty happened 

He was just starting to think about his gender when his mother died 

Later looking back it makes him really sad that he never got to tell her

Then he was homeless and a bit busy 

He learned Blitzen and Hearth are both trans pretty quick though 

I think this is even mentioned in canon that there's not a lot of privacy living on the street 

Probably got an idea when he ran out of pads 

Magnus: Fuck I’m out of pads and still got like three days left :/ Blitzen: *handing him some spare pads* Here I got you covered kid Magnus: ?????? Why? do you have these???? 

He’s a little slow on the uptake bless him 

Eventually, he sees Blitz and Hearth’s chest scars and is like OH 

He starts asking them both a lot of questions, still thinking its just innocent curiosity but Blitz and Hearth are sharing knowing looks the whole time

Sure enough like only a few days later he’s like “I think I wanna go by Magnus now” 

His mother had mentioned to him that’s the name she’d have gone with if he’d been born male and he liked it enough to keep her wish 

I wanna say his dead name starts with a B? I dunno why    

Birthdays don’t mean much to Magnus while homeless but Blitzen and Hearthstone get him a binder for his 15th birthday, refuse to explain where they got it 

(Blitz made it but Hearth was the one to steal the materials he needed) 

Magnus obviously never had the option for medical transitioning while alive and homeless, but if given the choice he’d probably get on T but not have any surgeries

Jack is a sword who canonically picked his own name and it’s talked about there being female swords despite having no genital or way to tell, all living weapons choose their own gender he’s trans 

Samirah can’t remember not knowing she was a girl 

Like Alex she probably just knew from very early 

Her grandparents are mentioned being a bit more forward-thinking so while they’re probably not happy per se they allow her to experiment anyway, thinking it a phase 

It’s not a phase 

Her grandparents mess up her pronouns often and don’t get it all, but its happened less and less the longer she’s been going by female pronouns

They eventually arrange her a properly planned marriage once they realize she’s not changing her mind about being a girl, much to her pleasure  

Wearing her hijab and following other classic Muslim gender rules, like having a betrothed and not being alone with a boy, make her very euphoric and happy 

She knew right away Magnus was trans too since she like... literally handled his soul when taking him to Valhalla

Seems like something a Valkyrie would be able to tell 

Sam is very excited because this is the first time she’s met another trans person but doesn’t know how to bring it up 

I’m picturing it happening after they meet Thor when she and Magnus are talking by the campfire 

She just awkwardly blurts out “So uh gender huh?”

Magnus has no idea what she’s trying to say at first but once he does he’s very excited to talk trans with her 

ftm and mtf solidarity bitch!!!!

Then Alex gets thrown into the mix 

She doesn’t know about any of this  

Eventually, Sam finds the time to talk to her about her gender, and naturally Alex is ecstatic. It's part of why he takes such joy in being Sam’s chaperone

This happens pretty soon after Alex arrives in Vallhalla 

But Alex doesn’t find out the rest are trans too till much later 

It just sort of slips out from Blitz, a mention of feeling a bit dysphoric that day and Alex is like “!?!!!!” 

After hearing a bit more about Alex’s past Blitzen goes to Hearth and suggests he talk to her 

They have a very good venting session about growing up trans with shitty shitty parents 

Alex learns about Magnus last 

It’s when he comes to Magnus’ room after celebrating and Magnus got covered in chocolate 

Magnus has his shirt off and Alex sees his binder and is just like “!!!!!!” 

Magnus is a bit flustered but doesn’t really mind being seen shirtless since its Alex and he already knows he’s trans too so he’s not about to get attacked or called a slur 

Just like... Alex realizing his whole new little family is trans 

Just the whole empty cups fam being trans and all having very different ways of experiencing and expressing it but supporting each other through it all. Thanks for coming to my Ted talk

[transthaumaturge]

trans asks: 3, 19, 40

and bonus chosen without looking at the question: 27

--- Sorry I was a few days late to answer this, @foxoftheasterisk! I just re-reblogged the ask game as of the middle of the day on 12/24 so that it’s easier to see what I’m responding to. Responses under the cut so that this doesn’t dominate anybody’s dashboard.

Ask 3: Do you have more physical dysphoria or more social dysphoria? I’d say probably more social dysphoria. I have enough bottom dysphoria that I don’t like looking at myself in the mirror while I’m in the bathroom, but the biggest source of trans-related discomfort for me is not knowing whether I look or sound feminine to other people when I’m interacting with them in public. I’ve learned two important things from having a lot of social dysphoria: 1) You probably notice the nuances of your voice and appearance much more than any random person you’ll meet on the street--especially when it comes to cis people. I spend a lot of time thinking that my voice doesn’t sound natural, or that my face isn’t “feminine enough” (whatever that means), but people notice a lot less in general than I think they will. If you’re trying to pass, whatever that entails, you’re already doing a great job ^_^* 2) Passing is a shit metric for trans people to be judged on, and a shit metric for us to judge ourselves on. I’m just as much a lady now as when I had a full beard shadow two years ago, and I’m much happier with my no-makeup appearance nowadays than I was when I tried to dress hyperfeminine every day in my first year as myself. Give yourself a break. I still get anxious over my voice and appearance, but I don’t let it convince myself that I’m “failing at being a woman” anymore. I am a woman. If some rando on the street thinks otherwise, it’s their right to have terrible opinions. Ask 19: Would you ever go stealth, and if you are stealth, why do you choose to be stealth? I’m fully out in my day-to-day life, and that includes in my job as a high-school science teacher where I have a trans pride flag on my desk and co-advise the school GSA as an “LGBTeacher”. I like being visibly trans, especially to the kids that I work with, because it makes me a “possibility model.” It shows trans kids that they’re safe being themselves around me, and that there’s a real possibility that they’ll grow up happy as their true selves. But would I ever go stealth? I suppose I would if I felt like it was a matter of safety, and I’ve done so in the past for that reason. In the summer that I was interviewing for teaching jobs back in 2018, I had been out to myself as trans for several months but made the choice to pretend to be a cis man for all of those interviews and also for a full year into my teaching career. I knew that if I came to my interviews in a dress, I stood less of a chance of being hired and couldn’t afford to be jobless. And I knew that if I presented as a woman in my first year of teaching, it might introduce an element of danger into my life that I didn’t need while I was still working on coming out to those around me and building a support network. I took a calculated risk to go from being stealth to being out in my daily life because after a while, it was just too painful to not be my authentic self. But that took a lot of work. I spent a lot of time working with the local teacher’s union to make sure that I had someone to protect me when coming out to the district and school administration. And in my personal life, I waited until I had my own health insurance, my own car, and a handful of other things before I came out to the dad who threatened to take all of these things away from me if I wore women’s clothes in public again. If anybody reading this is trying to make that same decision of “when to go full-time”, I would strongly suggest that you do what you can to make sure that you have resources available to you if the worst happens afterward. You may not be as lucky as I was with the timing of my coming-out, but make sure that you have something to steady yourself with. A place to go if things get ugly at home, some money or possessions stashed away where the people who want to control you can’t get to them. At the same time, don’t let family manipulate you into waiting and making yourself miserable for years and years because “it’s just not safe right now”. My dad tried to do that once he realized he had nothing on me anymore, and I saw it for what it was. Nowadays, if I went stealth, it would be to pretend to be a cis woman rather than a cis man. I think that I could do that, but only if I was in an interaction where people knowing I was trans would put me in danger. It would particularly suck because I wear a kippah wherever I go, but I would even take that off if I needed to. I’m not so self-sure that I don’t realize there are places in my own country, some not too far from me, where there are people who want me dead. My goal is to make sure that I never end up in those places if I can help it, and if I do, to fake it until I make it. Ask 40: How did/do you manage waiting to transition? In this respect, I was luckier than most because I slowly came out to myself over the five years that I was in college and away from my parents, and wasn’t fully out to myself until I was 23 and about to get a job that I could use to support myself. I know that it’s not that easy for a lot of people, especially because my relative privilege helped me to get into a stable, independent living situation after school. But even with all of that, I still spent an entire year pretending to be a man while I taught my first year of high school science and waited to complete my full social transition. It was really hard. On the days that I wore a button-down shirt and dress pants to school, I felt trapped; on the days that I wore a school t-shirt and loose jeans, I felt like I was falling apart. Using my “guy voice” made me flinch almost constantly, because it didn’t feel like mine. I had to constantly remind myself that I was a woman, and that I would get through this. It’s difficult, when everyone around you is using your deadname and misgendering you. Here are the three things that helped me the most: 1) I built a support network for myself in my personal life. When I was looking for a house to move into, I made sure that my housemates were okay with me being trans and that they wouldn’t be uncomfortable with me being myself at home. Coming out to strangers like that was difficult, but I couldn’t bear another year of only being myself when I was in a locked bedroom. I was also lucky enough to have a queer community center in my town where I attended weekly trans support group meetings, which gave me a way to dress authentically and be seen and affirmed. I’m not lying when I say that I looked forward to those support meetings every second that I wasn’t in them. If you’re in a pre-coming-out situation and don’t have a physical queer community space right now (or that space is closed because of quarantine), online spaces are also amazing places to seek out affirmation and be seen. Discord, Reddit...just make sure that any Facebook groups you join aren’t marked public or everyone you’re friends with will be able to see your posts and comments from that group on their feeds. I learned that the hard way, thankfully long after I came out. Many queer community centers, if you live relatively close to them, are also doing weekly online support meetings right now to try and keep those affirming spaces alive during covid. 2) I started saying daily self-affirmations. Mine went “My name is Rachel Tikvah [Lastname], and I am a woman. I am a sister, I am a daughter, and I am enough.” I set phone alarms to say it in the morning before work, in the afternoon after work, and I also whispered it under my breath anytime that I felt like I just couldn’t take pretending any longer. Not only did it help me in the moment, it helped me to get used to my new name while my deadname was still being regularly used. If the above affirmation doesn’t feel like it would work for you, I have no doubt that there are plenty of trans self-affirmations that you can look up online and choose from. 3) I focused on the approaching milestones. I got through my first autumn by building my wardrobe and picking out my new first and middle names. By then, I had decided that I would start hormones on my birthday in February and counted down the days until then. Starting hormones brought a bunch of early transition milestones with them that I could focus on, and I worked out a deal with school administration that I would come out over the summer and start my second school year as a woman. That gave me an ultimate goal to work towards. Every step I took, every accomplishment I made, brought me closer to the light at the end of the tunnel. Knowing that kept me strong, and it kept me hopeful for the day when I would never have to worry about pretending to be a man ever again. If you’re currently in a dark place and not sure when you’ll be able to transition medically or socially, figure out what those milestones are for you and focus on what steps and amount of time it will take before they’ll come true. If you don’t have any milestones to look forward to, try to create some for yourself. Order some trans gear to start wearing if you have a safe way to do so! Work towards choosing a new name for yourself if you want a new one! Celebrate the anniversary of coming out to yourself with your friends each year! Whatever you can think of, put it on your mental calendar and look forward to it while you wait. Bonus Ask 27: What do you do to validate yourself? The self-affirmations that I mentioned in ask 40 really helped, and I still say them almost daily now that I’m out. They’re especially helpful when I’m feeling particularly dysphoric. As someone who is also very proud of my Jewish identity, I also say the blessing “thank you god for creating me as a woman” when I take my hormones or when looking at my body makes me smile. Those are beautiful moments that I thought for the longest time would never happen, and I want to sanctify every one of them. The Hebrew for this modified blessing can be found on this blog post: https://velveteenrabbi.blogs.com/blog/2012/03/on-bodies-blood-and-blessings.html Apart from that, one of my big refuges is clothing. I have a wardrobe full of cute clothes (there’s something beautiful about coming out of the closet and then filling it with dresses) that I’ll wear if I need to feel extra-feminine or sure of myself. I’ll put on makeup before going outside, and if I need it, I’ll take a picture of myself and post it to one of the queer discord servers I’m part of with a request for positive affirmations about my femininity. Knowing that I’m being seen by people that I care about and that they think I’m beautiful always means a lot and helps me feel better if I’m having trouble chasing the dysphoria away on my own. Between positive self-affirmations and being seen and cheered on by friends, I’m usually able to make myself feel better if I need that extra boost of validation. I should also mention that while it doesn’t come up a lot now that I’m not being regularly deadnamed, I used to ask friends to use my chosen name more in conversation than they would otherwise. Hearing it more chased away the intrusive thoughts, most of which at the time were my brain saying my deadname to me whenever there was a moment of silence. My brain was quieter when my friends were using my real name regularly. Okay, I hope that that gave you a little bit more insight into me and my transition! I am living proof that trans people can come out to themselves in adulthood and turn out alright. Gender is a galaxy, and I’ve remade myself out of the stardust. I hope that any trans people reading this have been/are able to transition safely as well. You’re all amazing, and you deserve happiness.