#anyway. i’ve been trying to come out as trans to them every four years like clockwork. if they haven’t gotten the hint yet… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[arithmonym]

i want to start HRT, but i’m stymied by the fact i’m still on my parents’ health insurance + the fear they could find out before i’m ready as part of their explanation of benefits.

… then again, my mom sent me to a conversion therapist when i was thirteen for gender dysphoria, so can they REALLY be surprised?

[kyri45]

✨ShadowPeach Bio Parents Bio AU Q&A! 29/10✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

@xyuki-iris ha chiesto: I LOVE YOU'RE ART ALSO GOOD FOOD But I have a what if What if Redson found Mk having a panic attack over something serious about him being Trans.

Ouch poor baby Red Son would totally support MK and try to calm him down

@ashmeertheimp ha chiesto: First of all your story is glorious and congrats on getting lmk at the very top. Second does Mk want to work on his relationship with Nuwa. I think Nuwa did truly love Mk but she also loved everyone else on earth equally. Mk has forgiven Mac who actually made an effort to hurt Mk (past mistakes) while Nuwa was opposed but still didn't stop Mk from not fixing the pillar of heaven.

I always felt like after S5 his relationship with Nuwa is similar to the one Steven had with Rose after S5 of SU. So it's- complicated

@audioandart ha chiesto: mayhaps a silly question, but towards the very start of the mk shadow peach stuff when mk first shadows into the wall. He says "why is everything *more* flat". Is this implying he already sees the world as 2d the way we do or am I perhaps missing something? 😅 (I love your work! Have a good day 🫰)

ahah yeah I was!!

@fake-anjel ha chiesto: Your comic makes me stay awake at night thinking of the next cap, making theories and making imaginary scenarios and imaginary gacha reactions to them for some reason. I was wondering... If Wukong and Macaque have a child (hypothetically, and by the biological way) wich one would be the oven for the bun? You have a fan from Brazil<3

Well, I would say Wukong, but here comes the question: a Stone Monkey, born from a stone, would be able to reproduce themself? There are no other like the four celestial primates and MK, so I would assume that they weren't able to- reproduce normally. Also if they would does it mean the womb is a stone as well???

@sollythesalt ha chiesto: Just asking if Wukong is trans do his female organs also count as part of his un-glamored form or does he stay with his male ones when he drops his glamour? Also what does his glamour include in your au just out of curiosity?

No under the glamour and shapeshift he still has female organs

@dandy-doodles ha chiesto: I'm VICIOUSLY consuming your comic rn - It actually came across my feed from a reblog. Never watched the show before. Loved the comic so much I binged the entire series and now I'm sat with the task of reading JTTW. This hyperfixation is your fault I love you for it. @ivoronical ha chiesto: Hi! I don’t know how tumblrs asks work because I’ve never used them before, but just wanted to say that your art is ✨fabulous✨ and you’re shadowpeach bio parents au has convinced me to rewatch the show entirely. It’s also made Macaque one of my favorite characters and because of that I am halfway through making a cosplay of him completely from scratch and I’m very excited to finish it:) Anyways I’ve rambled enough. Have a nice day!!! @starzz-twi ha chiesto: Can I just say how much I adore your art! It inspires so much that I might try drawing lmk again 🫶🫶🫶🫶 @artemismoorea03 ha chiesto: I hope you know that your Bio Parents AU fills every waking moment. I swear I only get on Tumblr anymore to see if you've posted something. I eat up any art you post regardless of what fandom it is and I just have to tell you that your art tastes like a blue raspberry icee (the best kind). I hope you're having a fantastic day ♡

AWWW TYSM TO ALL OF YOU!!!!

@sakuralotus03 ha chiesto: What will family gatherings be like now that MK has 4 parents? Like his birthday or end-of-year celebrations. I want to see more of the dynamics of the 4 parents interacting and talking about their one and only child.🐷🤓☀️🌙

oH CHAOTIC INDEED

Anonimo ha chiesto: How does it feel to be one of those artists that like 70% of the fandom knows about

wait is that a random number or???

Anonimo ha chiesto: Will we maybe see Macaque interact with Bai He or Mei?? (I'm starved of DarkHorse/EnderDragon/NightFlare Duo and Raspberry/Black Cat Duo) But I am interested if you might make them interact! :D Anyways, I love how your art got better by each comic, you can see the improvement from the slight sharpness of the shapes in the first comics and the now softer lines.

mmmmm I will maybe I'll do some small scenes

Anonimo ha chiesto: Past Wukong working out: I'ma get so strong. Ain't no one beating me Present Wukong working out: I'ma be so good at hugging my son and husband.

AWWWWWW WHAT A GOOD BABA!

Anonimo ha chiesto: Hello! I wanted to ask if we'll see just how sensitive Macaque's hearing is in your Au in a future comic maybe? Like... a thunderstorm happens or something when he's around FFM watching Mk and Wukong train or something that affects his hearing badly? But either way, love your art and style! :)

mmmm don't know if I have a scene planned for that...

Anonimo ha chiesto: Does Wukong and Macaque know about the other 2 Celstial Primates, Red-Hoarse Baboon and Lomg-Armed Gibbon, in your Bio Shadowpeach parents au?

I think so? In JTTW he knew so I would assume the same?

Anonimo ha chiesto: Will Macaque use his future vision at any time again in this comic? We now know in this Au he hasn't used it in years. But maybe will he use it again soon? I bet he won't but I still wanted to ask :)

not unless he is forced to

Anonimo ha chiesto: I’ve been listening to a song from a Pokémon movie: Always Safe by Cynthia, and I think of the Shadowpeach bioparents Au everytime

AWW that's beautiful the lyrics omg!!!

@notjustonefandom1 ha chiesto: So, I've been thinking about MK's staff. After he got it do you think he develops a habit of clasping his hands together, especiallywhen stressed or threatened? With the fluidity and energy he moves with, I think it would take a while for him yo find a chance to Summon the staff, especially if he isn't fast at it yet, so he just starts keeping his hands pressed together in preparation.

ooooohhh that's a cool idea!

Anonimo ha chiesto: Where does the Macaque has white fur head canon come from? I'm new to this fandom and I'm still learning things and I see it everywhere

I honestly have no idea but I guess either because Japanese Macaque are white furred or bc he died.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Ok so this may be a sensitive topic and definitely doesn't need to be answered so TW Did mk ever go through a depression thing after trying to die to save the universe in the last season in your au? A in like what if Wukong and Mac find out he used to SH?

hish. I'm not probably the right person to answer this. Probably he did had depression tendencies but didn't recognize them until someone pointed them out.

Anonimo ha chiesto: This ask os Going to be a little weird But Can I See Macaque Pining Wukong on the wall?In a Flirty way?(pretty Please?) I love Your Art so much!👑❤️‍🔥💎

Ouh.. *cleans forehead from sweat* is getting hot in here... maybe?

@autism-autobot ha chiesto: Wukong: OH BUDDHA, HE CALLED ME BABA!!!!! (SCREAMS WITH JOY) What DBK heard over the phone with his brother: OH andhdbrjjsm (feral monkey screeching)

Poor DBK gotta deal with the gossip now

@alastair-1205 ha chiesto: OMG THE MOST RECENT PART IM CRYING But I also love how Mac's first instinct is just grabbing Wukong and being like: "get out of hearing range before we freak out, get out of hearing range before we freak out, get out of-" you know? It's very funny but also builds on past comics since they woke MK up last time smth like this happened and I'm just !!!!!

GOTTA MAKE THE BABY SLEEP

@eerieqloss ha chiesto: OSISJJWJSJSJWWN OKAY WAIT SO IS MK GONNA START CALLING THEM MAMA AND BABA INSTEAD OF THEIR NAMES CONTINUALLY OR WAS IT JUST THAT ONE TIME

It wont be a one time!

Anonimo ha chiesto: I hope you are resting as you should Always remember to take your time, rest first, then work, ofc as far as possible 😅. I have a fun question (if you have the time ofc 👉🏻👈🏻): will we see Feral MK again? But you know, like another kind of "demonic learning" that maybe wukong or Mac will teach him to control or see that it's not bad as it looks

For now i want my baby to either be happy or traumatized not angry.

Anonimo ha chiesto: I feel like i remember you asking about happier shadowpeach songs for your playlist, but I can't find the post anymore. But if you're still looking, Livingston's new song Glow reminds me of them and also made me think about the eclipse scenes in the comic.

Several of Livingston's other songs also give me shadowpeach vibes, but I think about them so much that I might just be seeing them everywhere at this point.

Oooh true a lot of his song fits really well!!

Anonimo ha chiesto: This is the only instance where having a kid really did bring a couple together.

TRUE LMAO

Anonimo ha chiesto: Soo...Wukong and Mac in the DBK Palace I have a question in my mind!!!! Actually I hope you to see it and draw it.. if you don't wanna it's okay! What if DBK & PIF flirt with each other or smt like this u know in front of shadowpeach?! They will probably look to each other and then blushing hard

HAHAHHA poor souls they would totally think of wanting to kiss each other but can't because they are emotionally constipated.

[rain-tumbling-through-a-vent]

I’m disgusted by my own body. I’ve been spiraling for THREE AND A HALF weeks now and I’ve forgotten to brush my teeth the whole time. I think I’ve got, like, 3 or four cavities. My parents also stopped paying my medical bills so every treatment I get comes out of my own pocket. I need wisdom teeth surgery too, I spent FIVE WHOLE YEARS in braces only to fuck my teeth up after I get them off. I suck so fucking much. I can’t stop scratching out holes in my face either. I started the week with nothing but small acne sores that’d go away in a week and now I’ve got three massive gashes on my face. That’s not even to mention the fact that I didn’t take a shower for THREE WHOLE WEEKS. I’m so fucking disgusting, why can’t I hyperfixate on being healthy or making myself beautiful? Oh yeah, MY MIND IS A PRISON THAT I CANNOT EVER ESCAPE. When I finished my shower yesterday, I pulled a hairball the size of both my fists put together off of my wet brush. I have curly hair so shedding in the shower is pretty normal, but that much hair? It’s too much! I’m scared to take a shower again and pulling enough hair out to create a bald spot. I already broke a whole lick of hair off right at my hairline so that it looks like I have the worst bangs ever. It also doesn’t help that my arms, back, and thighs are covered in scars from where I picked at sores. And when I say covered, I mean fuckin COVERED. I look like an ambidextrous heroine addict with really bad aim and a lying mother. And even on top of all of that, I’m a trans girl as well. So all of my failings only serve to compound the dysphoria that I feel at a base level every fucking day. I know that these behaviors are indicative of chronic anxiety and/or depression and/or adhd, but I’ve never been this bad. I’m borderline suicidal and incredibly lonely, I think I’m an extrovert with such terrible anxiety that it prevents me from refilling my energy. I think that the worst part of all of this is the fact that I have friends that want to talk to me, they just live far enough away to be too expensive to drive over for an afternoon. And I cannot properly put into words how much I HATE talking on the phone and texting. It’s too stressful trying to figure out how to get the time of a message across, and talking on the phone is just terrible. I had a long term partner of two and a half years until relatively recently. I initiated a break in the relationship because we were extremely co-dependent and had been driving apart for a few months anyways. Long story short, he ended up crossing my boundaries and being an asshole to my friends so I ended the relationship. He didn’t take it very well and now we aren’t in communication with each other anymore. The wild thing about it is we were unhealthily codependent, but I didn’t realize how much I needed him. I’ve been in a prolonged spiral ever since I pushed him away, just feeling absolutely empty and all at once overwhelmed. He was my purpose and I threw him away. All of that was pretty terrible, but almost nothing trumps my mostly fiscally supportive parents. My home life sucks and not just because I’m a fucking loser 20 year old that lives with her parents. There’s only one rule for them, one line I can’t cross, don’t be visibly trans at their house. I must note that I’m the eldest of four and all of my siblings hate me for causing my parent’s terrible mental health. They’re not wrong, but I was outed so I didn’t mean to. So one rule, you’re in the closet over here, okay that doesn’t sound so bad. Literally every conversation I have with either of them always ends up being about their feelings towards my transness. They seem to think I’ve been brainwashed by the trans agenda and am going to mutilate myself and immediately regret it. Every conversation ends like this, over and over again I’m constantly reminded that I’m an abomination or that I’m ruining my life. But here’s the real kicker, they continue to support me financially; even going so far as to offer to pay for college if I can ever get my shit together and get back over there. (1/?)

[apelcini]

The Scream for size formatting. i could totally provide links and screenshots to academic papers on the damage of racial avoidance, internalized fear of your own mental illness, and the stigmatization of the homeless but also i just got four teeth pulled yesterday and I’m still groggy and i don’t feel like climbing over firewalls so I’m just going to provide the anecdotal evidence instead. when i was eleven my ten year old brother became an agoraphobe because of stranger danger stuff. i told him he was being nuts and we live in a low-crime area and he said if he was nuts then why were his teachers reinforcing everyone acting like this. for the next two years when we went to new york to visit our cousins he would be crying every time we got back to their place. in 2019 i caught it from him because i cut my hair short during a bipolar episode and families with babies started visibly avoiding on the street and i thought it must have been because they knew, they knew i had become mentally unstable and could kill them all at any moment (i was just 14 and gnc). in 2021 i tried to attend offline school and i got myself lost in a dumpster alley under some train tracks because google maps was fritzing out and i was too terrified to ask anyone for directions even when concerned pedestrians asked me if i was okay and why i was crying, because i was convinced they’d kidnap me. i ended up calling my mom and i gotta say that a 5’0 twiggy-limbed teenaged girl sobbing into her phone and visibly lost in a secluded back alley is the most kidnappable i’ve ever been in my life. my mom ended up calling a lyft for me and the car ended up being black and it took at least five more minutes for my mom to convince me to get in the damn car. i started watching after that and it absolutely affects people. i once knew a trans girl whose default walk was a long-legged swagger and the instant she walked outside she’d start slouching and scrunching herself up like it could make her less than six feet tall. i have a black friend who every time we were walking down the block and talking you would have to cup your ears to hear her because she was scared of joking and laughing too loudly. eventually i decided i’d had enough being afraid of everything so i started talking to homeless people outside a busy convenience store and i can’t even tell you the number of startled, even scared double takes i got by homeless people who were surprised i was treating them like a person and not a minefield. i have a friend who would only compliment people as an “i also think so” after someone else had already complimented them and it turned out that when they were 11 their dad said that people would think they were being creepy so they stopped complimenting people ever. once on an airport shuttle i saw a kid crying because she was worried her dad was going to get chomped by the door so i told her that the reason it’s so emphasized to stay clear of the door is that if someone is in it then it literally can’t close or leave, and told her a story about a time a group of teenagers got there just in time for one to put his foot in and jam the doors open to let the other eight in and the conductor was yelling at them over the intercom and trying to close the door on them and they all got in anyway and as i was telling this story full grown adults who weren’t even involved moved to avoid all of us, and by us i mean a 5’0 twig of a girl, her sleepy mother, and a family with three prepubescent girls. in what world is it healthy and normal to look at those people and immediately start calculating the risk they pose to you? it’s not healthy or normal to be instinctively afraid of other human beings existing around you, and if you still think that saturating our young people in this mindset isn’t hurtful then you’re welcome to come off anon and we’ll talk about it like humans.

collectively we have got to get a thicker skin towards strange or otherwise anomalous seeming people existing near us in public spaces. this is a classism issue, a racism issue, an ableism issue, a transphobia issue, the list goes on. the balding man in an elsa dress, the homeless guy talking about his dead wife, the rumpled scowling woman pacing in circles and muttering to herself, none of these people are hurting anyone. i can make a whole list of stupid reasons people have shuffled away from me in urban centers, including but not limited to sniff testing the air, talking about the development of train safety features, having short and masculine hair, and smiling at babies from several feet away. especially in our globally connected society, we have GOT to learn to tolerate other people being people even if it unnerves you a little bit, or we’ll continue being an anxious, isolated, and self conscious society, just a proximity group of individuals more than anything. (by tolerate unnerving behavior i mean like. if you think that lady’s laugh is too loud, get over it. this doesn’t apply to stuff like being uncomfortable at wolf whistling and other actually predatory stuff like that, use nuance man)

[softtransbf]

Fresh Blood, Old Scars Part 1

You'd disappeared 15 years ago without a trace- what's Yancy supposed to do when you walk into Happy Trails Penitentiary and don't recognize him, because he's transitioned? canon compliant trans!yancy/reader

Reader: he/him trans man, no physical description

Rating: T

Warnings: mentions of violence, canonical and parental. deadnaming and misgendering before either of you came out (none by anyone who knows the correct name/pronouns)

Word Count: 2,690

“Hey Yancy, I heard there’s fresh blood comin’ in today for some sorta museum heist.”

“Oh? Know anything else about these guys, so we can give ‘em a proper welcome, Bambam?”

“I know some. The first guy, Mark Iplier, claimed to have been in charge of the whole thing, but from what my sources said, it’s the partner that ran the show- just real quiet-like. I’ve been told that he don’t say a word.”

“Got a name for this, uh, silent partner?” He chuckled at his joke.

“Y/N L/N.” Yancy’s stomach dropped the way it always did when he heard that last name, your last name. Get your shit together. Wrong first name, and Bambam said he and his. Bambam don’t use pronouns other than they/them unless they’re sure. It’s just some guy with the same last name.

“Yance, you okay?” Tiny waved his hand in front of Yancy’s face.

“Yeah, yeah, just, uh, thinkin about how best to greet dese guys. The usual, wit Don’t Wanna Be Free ready just in case?”

“Right off the bat? You really think they’re that high of a flight risk?” Sparkles finally spoke up.

“I, uh, I don’t trust dem silent-types. They’s always schemin’, got somethin goin ahn in their heads.” And if he's anything like- yeah. Gone before you know it.

“Okay, if you say so. I’ll go let the others know.” Yancy didn’t even register who was speaking; he was too lost in memories.

- 15 years earlier-

Yancy knew it wasn’t cool to be excited for the first day of school when you’re a senior in high school, but he didn’t care. He didn’t need or even want to be cool- all he needed was to be your friend. Well, maybe not just friend. You’d been gone for almost the entire summer, and he’d spent the whole time figuring out how to both ask you out and tell you that he’s a guy.

He practically skipped across the street to your house so you can walk to school together, like you had every day since middle school. He knocked- nothing. Rang the doorbell- still nothing. He checked the back door and the spots where you had hidden spare keys over the years- nothing. All the curtains were drawn, too, so he couldn’t see inside. He kept trying as long as he possibly could before he had to sprint to make it to class just barely in time. All day, he kept an eye on the door, waiting for you- the two of you made sure to sign up for the exact same schedule before you went on your vacation. At lunch, he went to the office to see what he could find out.

“Y/DN isn’t a student here anymore- Mr L/N just told us last week.”

“What? Do you know where they went?”

“I’m sorry, hon, I don’t. All I know is that Y/DN is no longer a student here.”

He’d never ditched a class in his life, but that was the last thing on his mind as he ran home, crying. He didn’t stop crying for weeks.

-Present -

He’d never wanted to be wrong more in his life, but there you were. Looking better than he’d ever dreamed, following Mark around silently as he blabbered on about wanting to rally the other inmates to try to break out. No. I lost you once, and it cost me everything. I’m not about to lose you again. He quickly spread the word to skip pleasantries with the new guys and prepare for the song. As he was, you made eye contact with him from across the room. His heart dropped; you didn’t recognize him. You looked right through him, with the same calculating expression you gave everyone else. Of course he wasn’t gonna recognize you, dumbass. You’ve been on hormones for years and have had top surgery. Usually Yancy loved that he couldn’t see anything of the person he used to be in the mirror, but today he hated it more than anything in the world. Stick to the plan, Yance. He doesn’t recognize me, but it might be better this way. This way, I can get him to stay and get to know me as I am now, and he won’t be disappointed that I haven’t become anything like what we dreamed of so long ago.

Yancy couldn’t have planned it better, Mark practically begging Jimmy to punch him through the wall right before the show started, leaving you alone.

The number went great, as always, but then you showed him a picture of your parents. He knew that picture; you took it when the four of you went on a vacation together before you started your freshman year of high school. He also knew that he had once been in the picture, but you’d cut him out. The tape and staples that had been holding his heart together since you left fell away.

He stuck with his usual response to people citing family for wanting to leave, for the most part. No one at Happy Trails knew about you, and he’d killed his parents before they could leave him, so he’d kept his true abandonment issues to himself. Face to face with you after all these years, though, he couldn’t stop himself from adding “they’re always just gonna leave you behind” and a warning about trifling with the past. You flinched a little at both of those, and a spark of hope ignited in his chest- maybe you hadn’t forgotten about him, even if you didn’t recognize him now.

Then you still chose to leave. The rest of the rather single-sided conversation was a blur to him. Later, as he was tending to his injuries in solitary, he remembered calling you handsome and/or beautiful and your blush when he did. And, of course, you knocking him flat on his ass. He’d challenged you to a fight, because he’d always been able to beat you before. The part that truly left him confused, though, was why he offered to help you break out.

All he’d wanted for the last fifteen years was to go back to the day you left and beg you to stay. He’d told himself dozens, maybe hundreds, of times that if he ever saw you again, he’d do everything in his power to keep you with him. On his darker and angrier days, he truly meant everything. But here you are, and he offered to help you leave. This is what you get for even hoping someone might stick around. Let’s just do this. I gotta stop in with the warden first, though…

“Me? Out there? With you?” He chuckled. You had no idea that, with that simple gesture, you offered him everything he’d wanted for so long. Fuck, I don’t deserve him. I still love him, but he deserves someone better than the angry, selfish man I am. The fragments of his heart splintered even more. “I, um. I done a lotta bad things. And, uh.” He made himself brighten up. “This is home! For now, anyway. Maybe next time parole comes up, I’ll, uh” take it and go find you like I should have fifteen years ago. And I’ll spend every minute until then trying to become the kind of man you deserve. “Anyway, I gotta get back to it. You take care now, you hear? And, hey, visitation! Every third Sunday!” You looked down at the box you’d brought with you, and he ran. When he got back to his cell, he cried genuine tears for the first time since that August day when his world turned upside down.

- 2 weeks later, visitation day -

He knew hoping you’d come was a waste of time, and that he was just setting himself up for more pain. He’d learned the hard way that when you were gone, that was that. But still, there he was, looking up every time a guard walked into the room. As expected, they never called his name. The rest of the inmates gave him a wide berth as he went back to his cell for the night, and they were right to. He was itching for an excuse to fight. No one gave him one, though, so he told himself he’d find one tomorrow and got ready for bed.

When he got to his cell, it took him just one second to realize there was someone on his bed, pull them off, and shove them against the wall. It took him three more to process that it was you, and then another five to step back and let you go.

“Sorry for scaring you, Yancy. I didn’t mean to. It’s just… it’s visitation day, but I’m still wanted for the escape you helped me pull off, and I haven’t decided if I want to come back for good or not.” He stood there, frozen. You chuckled nervously. “I get it, your turn to be the quiet one. I’m sorry about that, by the way. There was a lot to process all at once, and I just kinda shut down when I get overwhelmed.”

I know. I remember that you didn’t say a single word our first day of high school, Yancy wanted to say. He wanted to say something, anything, but you being there and so close was just too much.

“Okay, so, honesty time; there’s a specific reason I came back.” You took a deep breath. “I haven’t been able to shake this feeling that I know you, somehow. But I know I’d remember meeting you- no way I’d forget someone like you. Anyway, I'm probably way off base and ridiculous. I guess I just wanted to tell you?” You ran your hand through your hair. “God, that sounds even flimsier than it felt in my head. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It, uh. It means a lot that you came back to say that.”

“Uh, Yancy? What happened to your accent?”

“Shit. Um. C’mere.” He muttered, as he sat down on his bed and pulled you down next to him. He prayed that you couldn’t hear how his heart started racing when he noticed your knees were touching. “No one here knows that the accent isn’t how I always speak. Not even the warden. I’ve been here five years and haven’t dropped it once. Anyone learns about this, and you’re dead, understand?” He knew that the threat was empty, but you seemed to believe it.

“Yeah, yeah, I do, don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. I gotta ask, though- why fake it? It seems like a lot of effort. You don’t owe me an explanation, of course, but since you’re heart-on-your-sleeve about your parents, it must be one hell of a reason. I bet it’d feel good to let it off your chest. I can promise to leave and never come back if you do- a burden shared is a burden halved, and if I’m gone, you can be 100% sure no one here will know.”

He took a deep breath. “Something flipped my world on its head, and I needed to distance myself from who I was before. That’s an odd phrase, though- ‘a burden shared is a burden halved’. Where’d you pick that up?”

“Oh, um. The mom of someone I loved a long time ago used to say it a lot. It just kinda stuck, I guess.”

“Loved, huh? You break their heart, or did they break yours?” Yancy was surprised he got the words out without his voice shaking or cracking. You were silent for a long time, and Yancy was sure he’d pushed too hard and you would completely shut down or, worse, leave altogether.

“Sorry, I haven’t talked about this… ever." Your voice shook. "I’ve never talked to anyone about this. I don’t know if I was loved back, but if so, I was the heartbreaker. I didn’t mean to be- I couldn’t control having to leave, and I didn’t know I wasn’t coming back until it was too late. I couldn’t say goodbye. I’ve hoped every day for the last fifteen years that my feelings were unrequited, though. I’m happy to have the pain of an unrequited first love if it means she wasn’t heartbroken.” The incorrect pronoun stung a bit, but you didn’t know, and you’d loved him back all those years ago. He was invincible.

“Have you tried reaching out? Even if your feelings were one-sided, I think you owe it to both of you to say them, at least once.” He reached out and took your hands without thinking. You didn't stop him, and he felt like he could fly.

“I tried, actually. About eight years ago, I'd, uh, escaped and was finally an actual person again after everything that was done to and taken from me, so I started looking for her. But it’s like she vanished off the face of the earth five years to the day after we were separated. It’s actually how I met Mark- I got into some deep and shady shit looking. I only gave up last year. Nothing turned up in seven years of searching, so I have to figure that she did something incredibly stupid a decade ago and got herself killed.”

“I didn’t die. Just the name did.” Yancy breathed. A half second later, he realized he’d said it out loud, and his heart stopped. You took your hands out of his and scooted away.

“Yancy. Are you trying to tell me that you’re- that we- oh my god. It is you. I knew I knew you. Everything else is different, but I should have recognized your eyes. I guess some part of me did. But you- I- I thought you were dead.”

“As you can see, I’m not dead, Brain. And for the record, your feelings were definitely not one-sided.” He reached out and cupped your cheek with one hand.

“Shit, Pinky, it really is you.”

Yancy had dreamed about how seeing you again would go in a million different ways. Not a single one of those included you practically jumping into his lap and kissing him with a lifetime's worth of love and want.

He let out an undignified whine when you broke the kiss. “Wait, wait. You knew from the second I walked in here who I was, didn’t you? You tried so hard to stop me from leaving… but then you helped me do just that. You chose to stay here when I asked you to come with me. Then I came back, and you got me to say all those things… And we’re both trans and wound up here? This is all just. So much. I can’t- I can’t do this.” You got off his lap and scooted to the far end of the bed.

“What are you saying, Y/N? That you’re leaving? Again?” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.

You stood up and faced him. “You do not get to play that card. You don’t know how much I went through trying to find a way to tell you I was sorry, that I didn’t know that the trip was a permanent one until we were on the other side of the country. Dad said that I'd never see mom again, and he’d kill me if I tried to get in touch with you or anyone else from back home. He broke my arm to prove he meant it. I can’t stay here to unpack all of this. I have to go. But you can come with me. I mean it even more now than I did last time. I’m not leaving you, I’m leaving here.”

You walked to the cell door and looked back at him with a sigh. “But I know you, and you have a family here. I’ll get you my address- it’s your turn to come to me, when you’re ready. I’ve waited 15 years to be with you again, what’s a little bit longer?” Without giving him a chance to respond, you kissed him again and were gone.

[vergess]

@autismserenity​ said: Your tags are the most American thing I’ve ever read, we are truly so screwed here   

May I interest you in a more complete, and more excruciating, explanation of what I spent the last 18 months doing?

It is, I need to emphasize, fucking nasty. Don’t feel obligated, especiallly if you’ve already had A Day(tm).

There’s a lot of disease, a lot of worker abuse including sexual and racial abuse, a fine portion of letting people die for not being white enough for real medical care, all leading to homelessness.

For NDA reasons, because my former employer was just as vile as any tech company has ever been, I cannot be super specific about who I worked for. However, I can say that we handled the records and patient contact for all COVID testing for several states, as well as 2 of the 5 largest metros in the US, and several dozen smaller ones ranging from the approximate population of San Francisco, down to little towns, as well as the testing for several public school systems and at least two government agencies that I am not at liberty to disclose.

I tell you this for a sense of scale. When I say shit like, “my boss was more than happy to let thousands or hundreds of thousands die” I am not exagerrating for effect. We handled hundreds of thousands of tests a week.

Again, I need to emphasize, government agencies. Ones you would know if I named them. Ones everyone in the country knows.

And we were in charge of getting their test results from the already over swamped labs back to the patients, who often were not allowed to quarantine while awaiting results.

The fastest we got our turnaround time to on any consistent basis was about 30 hours. Often it ballooned well into weeks.

There were a number of factors for this, but the big one was always understaffing.

The staff we did have were treated like trash. One of the big selling points of this company is how “trans friendly” it is to work there. That is a lie. Every trans employee on payroll had their dead name displayed to all other staff, and until I personally changed the system setup on my arrival, patient facing trans people’s dead names were displayed to patients.

Remember that thing about “hundreds of thousands of tests a week”?

I was able to change the way patient-facing names were displayed. I was not allowed or able to alter the way internal systems displayed trans people’s names. But I was assured that it’s fine, because once you get a legal name change, you’ll be given new system accounts with your new name!

Your old accounts with your dead name would still be displayed and associated with the new ones though.

This is the “trans friendly” working environment. We were allowed to be out of the closet, as long as we were willing to put up with that. And any attempts to get it altered were the result of those nasty little transgender ingrates not being thankful enough.

Meaning that by asking to use our own fucking names we were already in the disciplinary shitter.

Another big selling point is the ~racial diversity~. The CEO was a man of colour, and so were like four other people on staff!! Wow!!!!!!!

This, too, was laughable.

Once numbers started coming in about the care gap for COVID between English and Spanish speakers, and our Southwestern US service area began to have a separate and brutal backlog just of Spanish speaking patients, my employer encouraged me to interview potential hires who speak spanish.

Fair enough! We all wanted to do our part to help close the already massive mortality gap.

So, I found candidates, did interviews, hired them, trained them, etc. But I don’t speak Spanish. As a result, I appointed 2 assistant managers who do speak Spanish to assist me in managing, you know, like the job name.

So when my super contacted them directly, completely skipping me on the chain of command, and told them to stop all of our Spanish speakers from translating helpful simple messages to send to patients, and instead start translating medical and legal documents, they very reasonably assumed I was in the know and went ahead with it.

TO BE CLEAR, that could have ended my life, theirs, basically everyone involved. Everyone in the company would have been completely fucked. At that point, my subordinates, the people for whom I am wholly responsible, were doing everything from practicing medicine without licenses, to encouraging spanish speaking patients to enter contracts that no one on the fucking executive tier could even read.

The moment I found that out, I and the A.M.s immediately started trying to get actual medical translation services to do our documents. We collected them in a neat folder. We queried translation services. We got quotes. We contacted my super and the CEO, about this over and over again for months. In the late autumn, we received approval for one of the translation services.

The CEO decided at the last minute that having people with no medical or legal training draft medical and legal forms was fine and good actually, and refused to sign the contract or send the documents for translation.

The excuse I received was that the COVID emergency HIPAA relaxations would protect us.

That’s not how that works.

Throughout all of this, Spanish speaking employees were told to either keep doing medical and legal translation work, or lose their jobs.

Oh, did I mention everyone was working between 30 and 80 hours a week, and all of us were marked as “contractors” so the employer could tax evade? Don’t worry, we filed complaints with the labour bureau.

So the entire department was let go, and “rehired” as temps through a temp agency, which because it was a temp agency could keep them marked as contractors regardless of the facts.

This change was presented to all of us, myself included, as the company getting a new accountant to handle payroll.

So if you’re keeping score, we’ve covered racism, queerphobia, medical negligence, fraud, and a frankly uncountable number of deaths.

Let’s talk about the sheer negligence towards employees ourselves. If you’ve worked in near-death medical care before, or any number of emergency services really, you know that the standard benefit suite includes either a dedicated therapist for your staff, or access to peer support groups with other emergency and medical servants through your employer’s benefits program.

Do you know what our mental health benefits were for this company?

The CEO got on a fucking zoom call with us all one (1) time, and said that if we were feeling suicidal or traumatized by the work, to talk to him about it, and he would be our therapist.

Do you know how many people per fucking day we had to contact only to be told they had already died because our understaffing delays killed them? He doesn’t. He never listened when we told him.

But let me put the cherry on the “Oh baby, you can talk to me, oooh” sundae.

Anyone who “looked” or “sounded” female, regardless of actual or assigned gender, was subject to constant flirtations and slimy, overly personal compliments about our appearances. Fortunately, at 3 levels removed from the CEO (Executives > Department heads > Managers > Employees), most of the people under my management had relatively little contact with him.

I was not nearly so lucky.

The CEO of this company has a watersports (urination) fetish. I know this, because he told me so and attempted to get me to join him in it. I have no idea how many other people in the company he did this to. I mean, what the fuck was I supposed to do, risk losing my job to find out? I have a fucking family to support, people.

Not that it mattered.

Eventually, all of these abuses became too much for my subordinates. Productivity fell off a cliff. Delays were getting worse and worse. In a medical emergency like this, delays=deaths.

So, like a fucking idiot, when the department heads reached out to me to ask what they could do to improve productivity, I shot down their frankly insulting suggestion of raffling a $20 amazon gift card to patient facing employees, and instead suggested a very simple, “enroll us with a peer support group, every single person in this department has PTSD from working in this pandemic.”

They were confused by my assertion of PTSD. I was asked to compile a document of complaints, concerns, and weaknesses in our patient facing services.

I and the A.M.s did so. It was roughly 40 pages long, with each page given a known problem, the reasons why it was a problem, and some potential solutions that might inspire further solutions or be able to be implemented. We submitted it. There was no response.

A week passed.

I had been working 80 hour weeks for most of a year. I hadn’t even been able to take weekends. I took my first sick day, in a company with “unlimited vacation days.”

I received a call at 3PM.

I had been fired for “differences in communitcation.” If you’ve ever seen that “Problem Women of Color in the workplace” chart? Yeah.

So had most of my department, including every transgender member of the department, and several of our extremely limited in supply Spanish speakers, who were presumed to be “on my side.”

Some of them, I barely even knew beyond the formalities of the job, and they were punished anyway.

I lost my insurance, and as a result I lost access to my medications.

But the real problem? I lost my house. And not due to lack of payment.

I lost my house, because when I got the job we waited 6 months for stability’s sake, and then readied to move out of the area. I got a mortgage on the basis of my employer’s written guarantee to the bank that I would continue to be employed for the next year at a minimum.

With the mortgage approval in hand, we entered a sales contract on our existing home.

We got and accepted an offer just days before I was fired. To keep our house meant paying a 25,000 dollar broken contract fine. We didn’t have that. We had a 10% down payment for a modest fucking place in a cheaper area, which is less than half that.

But without a job, my mortgage approval was also voided, meaning we couldn’t buy a house either.

All of a sudden, we were homeless during the plague, because my employer wrote and signed a letter to a bank guaranteeing my future employ, and then changed his mind when too many people died due to his own negligence.

Oh yeah, one last thing: the job paid less than Pandemic unemployment Assistance.

...After that, well, it’s homelessness until just last month. I... if you’ve never been homeless it’s.

It blurs. Everything is happening constantly, except for all the ways in which you are endlessly, mind breakingly bored. Bored, overloaded, and always uncomfortable.

Obviously my health would have declined regardless. Malnutrition, stress, everything.

But I was also unmedicated.

It was hell. I was in hell. I don’t know if I can recover from it, to be honest.

I bounced back from being homeless as a child. Children are as resilient as they are stupid, and the monstrosity of homelessness was little more than a vaguely remembered loathing and a panicky fear that it would ever happen again.

A child who is dying is worthy of sympathy, even if it is meaningless coos from passers by. If they have family, they may be able to rely on them too.

An adult with the indignity to die homeless and crippled, according to the average passer by, is worthy only of disgust and perhaps even punishment for being such a worthless waste.

My reward for nearly killing myself in a desperate bid to help stem the tide of COVID was the destruction of not only my life, not only my entire family’s lives, but the lives of every single family of every single employee who worked with me.

And you know what’s worse?

Each one of us still did more to limit the lethal impact of COVID than the entire united states government.

It breaks something in you, going through that.

It makes you realize that hope is a fool’s game.

But, I have ever been a fool, and so, I continue to play.

[parkersharthook]

Love For All

Peter Stark-Rogers & Stark-Rogers!reader (twins)

warnings: mentions of drinking/being drunk, pretty fluffy

1.8k+ words

series masterlist

a/n: happy pride month (lol I queued this in february just so I didn’t forget to post it) anyways im bi and pls know my page is a safe space for everyone 💗💜💙

Fluffy piece where Tony and Steve are chosen as the grand marshalls for the pride parade and it becomes a family affair.

“this just in, you all officially have the coolest dads in history!” Tony bellowed as he dramatically entered the common space, Steve right behind him with a plethora of eye rolls.

Right as you were about to protest, Bucky chimed in, “neither of you are my father.”

“with the way I’ve saved your sorry ass? Might as well be.”

“saved my sorry ass? Oh Stevie, have you forgotten who pulled your ass out of every back alley fight you got into? Or have the years 1932 to 1941.”

“I did not start a fight in 1932!” Steve argued back, hands placed firmly on his hips.

“bullshit! 5 years old, playground 2 blocks over, Arthur Williams.”

Steve frowned slightly, “damn I forgot about that.”

Beside you Peter snorted, “you got into a fight when you were 5?”

“Wow darling, you came out of the womb with righteous indignation didn’t you?” Tony added with a small smirk as he moved to rest against the back of the couch.

Steve threw his hands up in defeat, “oh haha laugh it up. Yes I’m old, yes I’m stubborn. Can we please just go back to how we’re cool?”

“Wait before that, back to the ‘not my fathers thing’ does this mean you see yourselves as the team fathers? Because if you’re adopting more people, I want in!” Clint said cheerfully.

“Sorry we capped out at four.”

You stuck your tongue out at Clint with a little ‘ha ha’ because you were mature like that. “anyways… why do you think you are the coolest dads? I wanna get my rebuttal in soon.”

Tony bopped the back of your head playfully as he dropped a very rainbow piece of paper into your lap. Peter instantly leaned into your space to read it. You pushed him back with a shove to the forehead. “relax nerd I’m gonna read it out loud.”

“hurry up I’m getting antsy.” You threw an unimpressed look at Clint who had practically crawled into Bucky’s lap to get closer, not that Bucky minded.

“Chill.” You smoothed out the paper and held it up, “All hail the next Grand Marshals of NYC Pride, Tony Stark and Steve Rogers. We are happy to formally announce the two superheroes and super husbands as our fearless leaders of the float parade this year.”

“That’s the public announcement they put out, turn it over to read the letter they sent us.”

“Dear Mr. Anthony and Steven Stark-Rogers, we are so excited to welcome you into our NYC Pride Parade family. As this year’s appointed Grand Marshals it is both our duty and pleasure to pass the Pride Baton over to you. Included in this letter you will find the rules and expectations of our Grand Marshals, as well as what is permitted for first floats. We would love if you extended this invitation to your entire circle of family and friends to join you in the parade and on your float.”

You put the paper down and tilted your head back to stare at your dad, “you? Grand Marshal? Really?”

“What’s so shocking about that?”

“umm…. You’re old and not cool.”

Bucky sputtered a laugh beside you as Tony bopped you on the head again.

“Was this your way of telling us to come to pride with you?” Peter asked.

Steve shook his head as he flopped into a nearby loveseat, “actually this was our way of telling you that we need your help coming up with ideas for the float and how to decorate it. But of course we want you to join us on the float, we’ll be inviting the rest of the team as well.”

“I’ll help decorate but Bi-derman is making another appearance this year.”

Tony slapped his forehead, “can you take your old suit at least? The paint was a bitch to get off last time.”

Peter rolled his eyes, “the old suit chafes.”

You grimaced, “I hate this conversation.”

“I think you should do a dog themed float, Lucky can be our mascot.”

Bucky sighed, “of course that’s your suggestion.”

“what about the history of pride? Recognizing the Stonewall Riots and the two black transgender females that started it all. Plus then we can also advocate for Black Lives Matter. Make it clear that to support one, you have to support the other. Educate and entertain.”

Tony smiled, “that’s not a bad idea y/n.”

Steve looked at you with hopeful eyes, “are you willing to help organize and coordinate?”

“can I invite friends to help?”

“yes.”

You smiled, “then yes.”

------

“when I said organize and coordinate, I didn’t mean take over the conference room we use regularly for avengers meetings.” Steve said with a deep sigh

“it’s the only one with a vending machine.” MJ helpfully pointed out, taking another large bite of her pizza slice.

“yeah it was the only way to get Clint to sit through meetings without leaving to get food.” Steve explained as he stepped into the room and took in the large array of papers everywhere. The four teenage girls that occupied the room were all busy with one thing or another, looking intense and determined.

MJ snorted, “figures.” Her hand ghosted over the page again, dragging the pencil with it and creating another addition to her sketch.

Steve’s brow furrowed for a moment and he took a step closer to get a better look, “is that me?”

MJ nodded coolly but offered no other explanation. Betty huffed a laugh, “we’re trying to design both you and Mr. Stark crown-like head pieces.”

“crowns?”

You rolled your eyes, “Pops, you really do only hear what you wanna hear. Crown-like head pieces. I know dad would go for a full ass crown but I knew you wouldn’t and we want you two to match.”

Steve studied the photos of celebrities that were projected on the wall. “and that?”

“The 2018 Met Gala. Theme: heavenly bodies. There were a bunch of great head pieces that night, we’re using it for inspiration.” Gwen supplied, “let us know if there’s any you like.”

“I wanna go in a Cardi B direction.” You stated without taking your eyes off your computer screen, you’ve obviously already committed every possible headpiece to memory.

“don’t taint his selection with bias!” Betty cried

MJ waved her off easily, “there’s no way he knows who Cardi B is.”

“thanks for the confidence MJ.” She just smiled cheekily at him.

“I think he should choose something like what Frances McDormand was wearing.” Gwen stated with a small smile

MJ laughed, “as much as I think that would look amazing, there’s no way he’s picking that.”

“who’s this?”

You barely had to glance at the photo to recognize the red and gold dress and of course the iconic headpiece, “Black Lively.”

“Okay well I like that, it’s simple.”

“what about…” Gwen drawled as she typed something and new photo, a larger one, took over the whole wall, “Something like SZA’s?”

Steve took a step back and grimaced slightly, “it’s kinda… big.”

“But if it were smaller?” Gwen pressed politely

“I suppose.” Steve glanced around at the four girls. “You guys have a lot of stuff planned.”

“Oh yeah.” You looked up with a big grin, meeting your dad’s eye. “It’s gonna be great.”

“You’re not designing us costumes too are you?”

“Well Tony specifically said not too and that he already had something planned.” MJ said before eyeing Steve up and down with the critical eye of an artist, “But we could design something if you wanted us too.”

“No, I kinda of already have a plan too.”

You rose a questioning brow, “oh yeah? Please tell me you’re not going to be wearing something boring.”

Steve rolled his eyes at you and obnoxiously bumped his hip into your side as he walked out, “I’m not clueless on how to dress for Pride. Plus, I like dressing up for it, it’s fun. And it’s not something we got to do back then. I’m planning on taking full advantage.” And with that he walked out dramatically and closed the door.

Betty laughed slightly, “ten bucks that he paints the shield.”

Gwen shook his head, “No way. I think he’s gonna wear one of the flags as a cape.”

MJ clicked her tongue, “I know for a fact he’ll be wearing his ‘trans rights are human rights’ shirt.” Pause. “and probably his rainbow pants.”

You looked at MJ with a perplexed expression, “why do you know about my dad’s rainbow pants?”

MJ smirked slightly, “he wore them to pride a few years ago. Plus, me and peter talk about things. You’re not the only Stark-Rogers twin I hang out with.”

Gwen obnoxiously nudged Betty with her elbow and a large wink, “Oh yeah… she talks to Peter.” MJ scowled at the two as you snickered behind your hand.

MJ grumbled slightly, “let’s just get back to work.” It was silent in the room until the three other girls heard MJ mumble, “I never have to deal with this at college.”

You burst into a fit of laughter.

------

Pride was without a doubt a 100% success.

The float looked great. The area had already been swept for trouble. One Grand Marshal was moderately drunk. And Everyone was dancing and partying. Perfect.

Even the float attendees looked great. Clint was the brightest of the all. With no shirt on, glitter all over his chest, a rainbow tutu around his hips, tight purple booty shorts underneath, knee high socks with the pan pride flag on them, plus his signature purple converse… he looked good.

You’ve been snickering every time you catch Bucky not so subtlety looking Clint up and down. But that being said, Clint was doing the same to Bucky because he had someone managed to get the stoic and whiney super soldier into a rainbow button down. Nothing else, as that wasn’t Bucky’s jam. He paired the shirt with simple jeans but you were sure that he would be covered with glitter later.

Peter had been swinging around the parade, his first Stark suit now painted a vibrant pink, purple, and blue. Plus there was a large, messily painted on heart over where the spider sat in the middle of his chest.

You and all your friends had taken up the dance floor on the float, and if you said so yourself, you all were killing the dance moves.

Tony was more than tipsy because Bruce was on babysitting duty tonight for Morgan, so he let himself go and lean heavily against his husband, who just grinned at him all lovingly.

In the end, it was a good day. You threw beads and candy to the crowd, joining them at times for drinks and dance parties. You laughed endlessly with your friends and your family. And yeah… it was a good day.

Plus, all your friends had been correct.

Steve wore his trans shirt in solidarity with the ongoing movements and the float.

He wore his rainbow pants because they were “super fashionable y/n” and to support everyone.

He painted his shield purple, blue, and pink to show off his own sexuality and support Peter.

And he had a pansexual flag tied around his neck to match with Tony’s pink, yellow, and blue shirt.

He looked great.

[pluviophile-bookworm]

Understanding and acceptance: a short story consisting of things that actually happened

[A/N: I was on the phone with my mum and she told me that I seem to be in a creative mood and that I should write something. I decided to kill two birds with one stone and share a personal story while also writing it as if it’s fiction. So here goes.]

Word count: 2K

-- 2 weeks ago --

It’s a quiet Saturday evening. My brother Max and I are walking home together, deep in conversation. I have no memory of what the conversation had been about when it started, but I do remember that it somehow got to this:

‘...all this assuming you’re straight, of course, and I’m not assuming anything--’

‘What does being straight mean?’ Max says in a tone that tells me he genuinely doesn’t know. So I feel obligated to explain it in the simplest terms possible. ‘Well, in your case it would mean that you, a boy, like girls.’

‘Well, that’s the normal thing for any person!’ He nearly cuts me off with this. I calculate my next step carefully.

‘Not every person,’ I say, keeping my voice as calm as possible. ‘I’m not straight.’ Of course, he knows that. I came out to my whole family at once three years ago, hoping for the awkward discussions to be over with that. It hasn’t worked out quite as I envisioned it yet.

‘Yeah, but you’re not normal either,’ Max parries. Can’t argue with that. Lucky for me, that is when we reach the front door and each one goes off to mind their own business.

I know very well just how ‘not normal’ I am. Not in that cliche ‘I’m not like other girls’ way, but in a way that causes Bulgarians undereducated on mental health and identity labels (which is unfortunately most people over 30) to brand a person clinically insane, unstable, a threat to the Traditional Bulgarian Family™. Being aroace and having severe social anxiety and ADHD to top it off, I hardly classify as ‘normal’. This is a frequent cause for arguments at the dinner table at home, most of which end in a. tears and/ or a panic attack on my part, b. my father storming off and pretending to be asleep whenever someone goes to call him back to dinner, c. my brother gluing himself to his phone, leaving his plate half-untouched, d. my mother crying over ‘what kind of mother am I that I can’t even have my family together at the table once’, and usually e. all of the above. 

For this scenario to play out, however, the whole family of four is required to be present. So fortunately it only happens every other weekend when Dad and I come back home from the capital, where we have been living for the better part of three years now, ever since he got promoted and I started uni. When I’m away from my loving but over-controlling mum and my brother, who seemed to become obnoxious overnight the moment he turned 13 a little over a year ago, I usually have significantly fewer reasons to cry or feel anxious about... you name it. So we do fine. For the most part.

-- this evening --

I am watching Joe and Frankie’s performance of A Whole New World for the thousandth time today when I get a text from Mum.

Mum: How’s my girl doing?

Mum: I haven’t been able to hear from you with all the fuss about your brother.

Max is at that point in his education where he’s applying for high schools. His exam results have just come in and now everyone in the family is stressing about whether his scores will be enough to get him into the school he wants to go to. It’s a big deal, but with all the Rodfini magic going on (and with how terribly behind I am on my internship assignment) I have just been completely unable to care.

Speaking of Rodfini and A Whole New World, I have been repressing the instinctive urge to send my mum the video all day, and when I get her texts, I almost nearly muster up the courage to do it. But between me and her, this is not something you do over text. So I give her a ring instead. 

When she picks up, the sound of her voice combined with the anxiety over what I want to tell her makes me tear up and the words are stuck in my throat. 

‘Erm-- Mum, can I tell you something?’ I say, still not sure if I’m not about to regret taking up the subject at all.

‘Dear, you know you can tell me anything,’ she says, sounding concerned at my obviously-trying-to-swallow-tears voice.

‘You mean it?’ I ask, listening to her tone to make sure. I wish I could read tones better. ‘Anything?’

‘Is something wrong, honey?’ Oh gods, she’s in a really benevolent mood. I grow more and more afraid of ruining that with my ‘obsession with gays’. 

‘Erm, so I guess you should know Dad and I had the tiniest disagreement just now,’ I say, deciding last minute to start with something she might deem ‘more relevant to the family’s personal lives’. ‘You know, we were watching the Euros and then the match ended and we watched the news, and then Dad changed the channel so he could watch the next match. And I was like ‘whoa, what’s with the video quality’, and so dad was like ‘you really need go get your eyes checked out’; and I tried to explain that there was a very obvious difference in quality between the two channels, and he kept yelling at me that I was ruining my eyesight spending all day staring at a screen.’

‘Did he sound annoyed or just concerned?’ Mum asks me.

‘I know what you’re thinking. And I know full well that he’s my parent and he’s concerned about my health. But you should have heard his tone.’

‘So are you two in a fight now?’

‘No. Well, I don’t know.’ I really don’t. It’s hard to tell when one side of the argument refuses to talk about his feelings as if that will kill him. But I don’t tell Mum that. She’s been dealing with Dad since long before I was even planned, so she knows him better than I do. ‘The thing is, he called me back and said that, well, one of the channels was HD and the other was not, so there was indeed a difference, but he thought it was ‘unnatural’ that I was able to register it so immediately, and he kept insisting there was something wrong with my eyes. I should think that seeing something quickly would be a sign of good vision, not bad. Besides,’ I keep talking, nearly  desperate to justify myself, ‘I did some research and sensitivity to light is a symptom of ADHD. So it’s nothing new, really.’

‘Oh, please, dear. You’re of a new generation, and ADHD is something of the older generation. Don’t be so quick to self-diagnose.’

I guess there’s some reason to what she says, or at least the last part of it, so I give up on pursuing the subject further. ‘Yeah, anyway,’ I say, ‘I just thought it was all a bit rich coming from the man who refuses to wear his prescription glasses. I haven’t got any prescription glasses, you know.’

I don’t want to come off too cheeky because I still want to try and talk to her about how happy Rodfini have made me today. A while ago, Mum would accuse me of only calling her to complain when I was unhappy, so I have since made it a point to call her when I am happy and tell her so. That’s why I’ve been itching to share this with her. And now the time has come.

‘You know, I’ve been crying in a completely different way today,’ I begin tentatively. ‘A good way, A really, really good way,’ I add quickly before she can get worried again.

‘Yeah? So what was it that made you so happy that you cried?’ Goodness, there’s no turning back now. I decide to proceed with caution.

‘Oh, well, it was this performance, you know. A really beautiful song. So I’ve been wanting to show it to you, but I was worried about how you’d react.’

‘And why would that be?’ she asks in the same kind tone that keeps making me anxious about potentially ruining everything.

‘Well, erm...’ I feel myself start to stutter. ‘See, it’s a love song, and it’s... ok, I’ll just say it. It’s sung by two guys. As in, a couple, you see.’ I keep feeling up the ground with my words, anxious to hear her reaction. It’s like when I’m opening an exam result -- I want to know, but I’m too scared to look. And so now, in my anxious despair to know what she thinks about it, I miss the beginning of her response. ‘And I know how you are about those things, so I...’ I genuinely don’t know what to say. I’ve done my thing again. I’ve kept talking so much that she hasn’t even been able to react audibly. So I trail off, determined to let her speak this time.

‘Ok, but... why do you get so affected by those things?’ Mum says, starting to sound suspiciously like she’s about to question my own orientation again. I feel the need to justify myself for the second time since the conversation has started.

‘Well, it’s just that... I really wish you would just see them, Mum. If you could just see how they look at each other, you’d see that there’s just love. So much love. And joy at being able to express themselves as they are.’

I’m speaking from the heart now. I am finally letting out how much I want her to give them a chance because she deserves to see and hear their magical performance. She must be sensing the anguished sincerity in my voice as I finally manage to stop crying and I smile through the tears, because she says, ‘Dear, are you... are you trying to tell me something there?’

I sigh. She’s asked me this question nearly every time I’ve started speaking ‘too’ passionately about anything LGBTQ+ Which isn’t an awful lot in her presence, but there have been several occasions. Once about Solangelo, at the beach. Once about NPH and his husband David and their children, at the dinner table, as I was trying to explain how same-sex couples can have kids; that one resulted in a seriously bad scene of the type I described earlier. Once about a participant in a reality show who identified as a gay man then, but has recently come out as a trans woman; whenever she’s been mentioned on television, I’ve fought to repress my inner urge to express my happiness for her and the representation she is for the Bulgarian LGBTQ+ community. I wonder even now if my parents have noticed my silence on the subject -- because they certainly do notice when I am not silent.

So now, when the time seems to have come for me to set things straight about my non-straight-ness (bad pun very much intended), I try my best to keep my voice from shaking. ‘I’m not trying to tell you anything I haven’t already told you, Mum. Really.’

‘Are you perhaps attracted to the same gender, dear?’ It seems so unbelievable that she’s said it, and even more that she’s worded like that, but she really has. I force myself to be calm and patient.

‘No, Mum. I’ve told you -- I am not attracted to any gender, be it male, female or anything else, really. You know that.’

‘Well, it sounded as if you--’

‘No, Mum. Really. But I do need you to understand that part of my identity is that I feel the need to support people with other identities different from straight. I’m happy for their successes. I'm concerned about their issues. They’re a sort of family to me. Do you understand that?’ I say, relieved to be speaking my truth at last. At the same time, I try to sound as reasonable and mature about the whole thing as possible. I don’t want to put her off, especially not now that I’m knee-deep in the subject already. I’ve gone too far to turn back now.

‘Yes, honey. Yes, I do. I just don’t want you to exert yourself emotionally, is all. Plus I’ve been so stressed out about your brother and all, you know...’

‘Yeah, I do know. And I know he’ll be fine. He’s a nice boy. I just wished he didn’t keep calling me ‘abnormal’ all the time...’

‘Oh, well, don’t listen to him. He’s been quite stressed out too. And he’s 14. It’s just how he is at this age.’

I’m not too sure about that. ‘Boys will be boys’. It’s ok for boys, then, to pour salt into their neurodivergent sisters’ wounds? I don’t think so. But I can’t fix every problem in one talk. Plus my mum sounds tired now.

So I just say, ‘I guess... Well, anyway, thank you so much, Mum. For hearing me out, and for supporting me, and for everything else. Please don’t worry so much.’

But I know she can’t not worry at all. I’ve got that from her.

‘If you’re sure you’re all ok now, dear...’

‘Yeah, mum, I am. Or I will be. You know, there’s this expression with English, ‘to run with something’. So I’ve been telling myself, I’ll at least try to walk with things. You know I’m not much of a runner anyway.’ I actually laugh, even though the pun is quite untranslatable into Bulgarian.

‘You know I’m proud of you, right?’

I know that has very little to do with the kind of pride I’ve been celebrating all month, but I say, ‘Of course I do. And you know what? I’m quite proud of myself, too.’ I can’t believe I’m saying it, but I mean it. I mean it wholeheartedly this time.

‘I’m nearly falling asleep, though, dear, so I say we call it a night?’

‘Good night, Mummy. And thanks.’

I hang up. Then I forward the video to her.

I’ve come so far, indeed. I reckon we both have.

[mysteryartisticwriter]

Body Stealing Black-Eyed Bitch (2) // Jack Kline/Belphegor X Reader

A/N: This is part two so make sure you go read the first one in order for this one to make much more sense lol. This one is actually a lot longer than the first one because me being stupid didn’t equal it out.

TAKES PLACE DURING 15x01 (SPOILERS IF YOU HAVEN’T WATCHED IT YET)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN BTW

Requested: Kinda...people wanted this second part but I was gonna make it anyway

Warnings: Blood, some forms of gore, some angst, and some heavy makeout session

PART 1

Not my gifs!! (Please tell me if you, the owner, would like me to take the gif down!)

-

The guys ran to the doors to check the outside while you stayed back and stared down the demon. He noticed you looking at him and smiled.

“What? No thank you?”

You scoffed. “As if I’ll ever thank you.”

You and Belphegor followed the older men to the outside. You exited the tomb and saw that the sky was still an eerie dark black, but the several dead walking bodies had collapsed on the ground, lifeless once more.

“Hey, it worked! High five!” Belphegor cheered, lifting his hand for high five that one paid any attention to.

“The spirits have been destroyed.” Castiel said, looking around the graveyard.

“No, I actually just blasted them out of those bodies.” Belphegor walked past the four of you.

“So where are the ghosts, then?” Dean asked.

Belphegor didn’t really give a proper answer and you all just sighed then headed toward the chevy impala. As always, Dean was driving and Sam was in shotgun. You, Castiel and Belphegor sat in the back, much to yours and Cas’ distaste. It was a bit worse for you since you were trapped in the middle of the two, meaning you were closer to the demon.

The five of you drove down the dark road as Sam checked online if there was anything on the news. Belphegor was checking out his vessel in the car’s mirrors.

“I mean, come on. I look good.” He said while fumbling with his glasses.

“Don’t get used to it.” You barked, your arms crossed and face blank.

“I’m gonna have to, sweetheart.”

“Anything?” Dean asked his brother, changing the subject.

Sam glanced at Dean with a strange look. “No, not yet. I mean, the news, they didn't...it just... I'm not seeing anything about a worldwide zombie apocalypse.”

“So... Ghostpocalypse. Maybe it's just happening here.” Dean suggested.

But Belphegor shrugged from the backseat next to you.

“Eh, for now. I mean the souls gotta go somewhere, right?”

“Yeah, how many are we talking about, by the way? Souls?” Sam asked, turning his body to face Belphegor.

“In hell?”

“Yes.”

“Two...three billion.” The demon shrugged nonchalantly.

Your eyes widened while Sam and Dean shared a dour face. They knew lots of souls escaped from Hell but not that many.

“Alright. Let's just stick to the plan, alright? We head back to the bunker, figure out how to close the rift.” Dean said.

Belphegor sucked in a breath. “If you can.”

You glared your eyes to him.

“Yeah well, you got a better idea?” You snapped.

“I do not. But if you wanted to buy some time, you could always contain the ghosts.” He told you.

“Contain them how?” Asked Sam.

“Magic.” He answered, as if it was obvious.

“And you just happen to know the right spell?” Cas pointed out.

“Lucky you.” Belphegor said, smirking at you.

You just rolled your eyes and sank back into your seat.

“What do you mean by "contain"?”

“Imagine a salt circle a mile wide. No ghosts get in, no ghosts get out.”

“No,” Castiel interjected. “That town, Harlan, Kansas is less than a mile from the cemetery.”

“Then we get everyone out.” Dean deadpanned.

“How?”

“We lie.”

-

It was already light once you guys arrived back in the town. Sam left the car to speak to the sheriff about the town’s evacuation, you, Dean, Cas and Belphegor were left in the car.

“We can handle the evac, so why don't you grab Crowley Jr. here whatever he needs for his spell?” Dean told you and Cas.

“No.”

“I’m not doing that.” You both protested at the same time.

“What?” Dean confusingly asked.

Castiel looked anywhere but Belphegor. “Dean, I can't. I-I...I can't even look at him.”

A terrible silence went through the car before Cas finally just sighed and left the car. Dean just turned back into his seat and pulled out his extra pistol, opening the glove compartment and shoving it in there out of plain sight. Belphegor took notice and looked over the seat to see what he hid.

“Uh, what’s that?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay, cool.”

Dean looked at you in his rearview mirror and sighed.

“(Y/n), I’m gonna need you to help...Belphegor find his supplies and seal up the town. Once you finish the spell, come find us, okay?”

“I am not dealing with him...I can’t. This demon is inhabiting Jack’s-” You stopped. “He’s using his body, Dean.” You confessed to the eldest Winchester brother.

“Sorry, but I’m not asking, Singer.” Dean scolded you, using your last name.

Whenever he used it, you knew he meant business. No one ever called you by your adoptive father’s last name but the Winchesters and that only happened in times where you really pissed them off. You just scoffed and scooted farther away from the demon next to you.

Being near Belphegor kept reminding you that the love of your life was gone forever. Every memory, good and bad, about Jack replayed in your mind. From when you first found him, to teaching him to control his powers or even when he ran away. Your heart and mind ached, ached for your love back.

You noticed that Dean and Belphegor stepped out of the car so you followed on your side. Dean gave you strict instructions about the demon (mainly on making sure he didn’t go rogue and kill you) and then left you alone with him.

As you walked down the street, Belphegor walked next to you and watched several people who walked past you two. He eyed their appearances then whispered to you.

“So, people are, like, crazy good-looking now, eh?”

You furrowed your eyebrows in a mix of irration and confusion. “What?”

“I mean, the last time I was on Earth, when I was human. Ah, it was a while ago. I mean, but, you know, we were all worshipping this giant rock that looked like a huge penis, and...”

“Ew, dude, TMI.” You grimaced. 

“It’s true! Anyway, folks back then, they were, uh, ugly. You know? Had a lot of humps. I mean, a lot. Look at 'em now,” Belphegor stared at your body and smiled. “I mean, look at you. I mean, you're, uh, you know, beautiful.”

You halted in your tracks and a memory popped into your mind.

“You’re very pretty, (Y/n).” Jack told you.

You looked up at him in surprise. The two of you were just in the middle of searching for a case in the bunker’s library when he broke the silence with his words. Jack was just staring at you with a lovestruck gaze and you blushed heavily.

“Thank you, Jack. I think you’re very pretty, too.” You replied, trying to focus on your computer.

“No, no, I mean it.” You looked back up at him, staring into his piercing eyes. “You’re beautiful.”

A tear escaped your eye before you had a chance to wipe it away. Belphegor saw you had stopped walking so he looked to you and saw your bleak expression.

“Um... you good?” He asked, going to shake your shoulder but was stopped by you grabbing his wrist.

“Never touch me. Never call me beautiful. And don’t you ever ask me if I’m good,” You furiously wiped at the tears in your eyes. “Because I am never good.”

You could see out of the corner of your eyes that some people were starting to stare at you two. Although you were still angry, you let go of his wrist.

“Let’s just get your shit and get out of here. Wh-When are you gonna get out of that body, anyway?” You asked.

“Eh, when I find another one. I mean, I would've jumped at the cemetery, but all those meat suits were a little too, uh, you know, wormy. Difficult to blend, if you will.” Belphegor droned on.

“Yeah...sure.”

“So, uh...who was...he, anyway?”

You turned to him but continued walking. “What?”

“Well, I know he was your boyfriend and all but uh...who was this kid?” He curiously asked.

You hesitated before answering.

“His name was Jack. He was a lot of things. To the boys he was their kid. Kinda. But to me,” You swallowed. “He was important. My love, my light, my everything. And now he’s gone, with you inside his corpse.”

The demon could see the emotion in your eyes, even if you did try to keep a straight face, Belphegor could see what you were truly feelings.

“Oh. Uh...sorry.”

You shook your head and carried on.

“So, what do you need for this spell?

“You know, nothing much. Big bag of salt.”

“Easy.”

“And a...and a human heart.”

You physically groaned. You really need a break from death.

-

You exited the convenience store with a huge bag of rock salt. Turning to your left, you entered an alleyway where Belphegor was leaning against a brick wall. He noticed you coming toward him and brushed off his vessel’s clothing.

“Here’s your salt.” You said, handing him the bag.

“I’m going to call Dean about the heart. Maybe he knows a way to get one.”

You grabbed your phone from your pocket and began to search for Dean’s number in your contacts until you saw Belphegor staring at you. For a moment, he reminded you of Jack and his innocent gazes.

“Is there a problem?” You asked. He shook his head.

“No, no, it’s just...you’re very popular in hell.”

“I am?” You asked, pretty curious.

“Yeah. I mean, you may not be Winchester famous but still really well known.” The demon affirmed.

“And how exactly am I “well known” among Hell? I’ve been with the boys for almost eight years now and no demon has ever told me that I’m popular.”

“Kevin Tran, duh. He always talks about you, talks about how you were his best friend and how much he missed you- god he was so whinny.”

You stared at the demon with a blinking look, not sure if you had hear him correctly.

“K-Kevin? Kevin Tran?” You wanted him to confirm. He nodded.

“But God said- Chuck said he was going to Heaven. Kevin is supposed to be in Heaven!” You fumed, getting angrier by the second.

First that son of a bitch messed up your lives for his own entertainment, then he kills Jack, and now apparently he didn’t even send your old best friend to Heaven like he said he would! That lying bastard.

“I’m going to fucking kill that bastard of a writer.”

“Woah, woah, chill. Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to be calm! My best friend is in Hell!”

Your breathing started to pick up, your mind clouded by anger and you paced back and forth in the ally way. You didn’t even notice Belphegor come up to you and grab you by the shoulders.

Not really knowing anything else to do, Belphegor lifted your chin and smashed his lips onto yours. Your eyes widened in surprise and didn’t even have a chance to respond to the kiss. Because he was using Jack’s body, he tasted like him, felt like him and even the way he held you felt like Jack. For a moment, you forgot that it wasn’t Jack in his body, it was a demon.

After feeling you not freaking out anymore, Belphegor let you go and stared you in the eyes, you staring at your shocked reflection in his sunglasses.

“You calm now?”

You weren’t even thinking anymore. It had felt like forever since you kissed Jack, and even though your mind knew it wasn’t him, your body still craved for his touch again. Without even thinking, you forced your lips back onto his.

Belphegor responded almost immediately, kissing you with just as much passion as you did. His kisses were different, not the soft and sweet kind that your Jack and you always shared. No, this was different, what you felt was true lust and roughness.

You felt him push you up against the brick wall he was leaning against and you could feel his hips grind into yours. You moaned into the kiss, feeling Belphegor’s smirk against your lips. One of his hands found their way from your hips and almost up your shirt.

The hot and heavy kiss had only lasted for a while until Belphegor let your lips go. His stupid and cooky smirk was plastered on his face.

“Come on, we got a bunch of souls and ghosts to seal into this town, right?”

The demon walked past you and out of the alleyway, standing at the end and waiting for you. After everything that’s happened to you in the past couple of days, you managed to make a tiny smile at him.

-

Later, after calling Dean, you told him about the heart you needed for the spell and he suggested you going to morgue. You and Belphegor walked down the empty street, heading to your destination.

“So...about that heart.” He brought up the subject again.

“On it. Dean said that we could probably just head down to the morgue.”

You saw the demon shrug and scrunch up his face.

“Hmm. Fresh, it'd be... it would be better.”

You were about to answer when a man screaming in the distance caught your attention. Immediately, you ran towards the sound with Belphegor following behind you. You went down the street and around the corner to see the town’s sheriff laying on the ground, dead.

You kneeled down to the body and saw a closer look to his neck. There were deep scratches that cut deep and blood drained from his body onto the pavement.

You internally gagged, but managed to keep it down and covered your mouth with your hand. Belphegor wasn’t very affected from the dead man on the ground.

“Hmm, cool.”

You looked up to him with a weirded out face, he just shrugged as if it was nothing. Then again, he was a torturer in Hell for thousands of years.

“Fuck...”

“Yeah. Yeah, poor guy.” Belphegor said with no sympathy at all.

He leaned down toward the body and pushed his hand into the man’s chest, you backing away in disgust and shock. Belphegor pulled out a fresh, bloody heart and showed it to you.

“Well, I got a heart,” Bel smirked and held the organ out to you. “I would give it to you but-”

“I don’t care.” You deadpanned.

He raised his hands up in defense.

Suddenly, the air around you turned cold and when you exhaled, your breath turned white. You knew what this was, a ghost was near.

“We need to move. Now.” You commanded the demon until you heard a voice from behind you.

“Can you take me home?”

You turned around to see the woman in white that Sam and Dean had told you about, the first hunt they went on that started them on this journey together. She whipped her hand out and you went flying towards a nearby dumpster and some boxes.

You took a moment to breath and saw the woman walking towards Belphegor, ready to attack him. The demon backed away, still carrying the heart.

“O-Oh, hey. Look, okay?” He stammered, putting his hand out in front of him.

“Bad ghost! Bad!”

She once again swiped her hand at his lifted hand and created deep scratches into his palm. He winced at the pain and held his hurt hand close to his chest.

Just as the woman was about to pounce on him, you quickly grabbed an iron pole from the boxes and swung at the ghost with all your might. She disappeared right away but you knew she would be back.

“Bel, spell, now. Let's get the salt.”

After running back to grab the salt you had left in the alleyway, you grabbed it and poured it all into a large pile in the middle of the now deserted street. Belphegor then set the dead man’s heart in the center of the salt.

“We good?” You asked.

“We’re good.”

He stood firmly and began to chant the spell. 

“Animi...infernorum...spiritus abyssi surrecti...defigo...vos intra confinia. Vinciamni!”

As the salt and heart began to glow red, Belphegor set his hand firmly into the street in front of the ingredients. A powerful wave washed over the whole town then everything went back to being quiet once more.

-

After meeting up with the boys, along with a mom and her young daughter, you all rode back into the high school to drop off the little family. There wasn’t enough space in the backseat of the impala so you kind of just ended up sitting on top of Belphegor’s lap.

Dean stopped the car in a parking spot and him, along with his brother, turned to face the five of you in the back.

“So, what now?” The mother asked.

“Okay. You two go inside. We'll take care of the town.” Sam told them.

“And maybe don't tell anybody about the whole ghost thing.” Dean added.

“Or the angel thing.” Cas said, looking towards the girl and her mom.

“Yeah, that... that might freak them out.”

Belphegor scoffed from beneath you. “Uh, might?”

You elbowed the demon in the stomach, causing him to groan in pain. You then smiled softly towards the two.

“You’ll be okay, stay safe, alright?”

The mother and daughter left the car and you finally were able to get off of Bel’s lap. It was pretty uncomfortable for you but obviously, Belphegor had enjoyed every bit of it.

Dean drove off to the middle of the parking lot and stepped out of the car, everyone already had gotten off as well. He walked up to you standing next to Belphegor.

“Good to know that the spell worked. He cause any trouble?” Dean questioned, nodding towards the demon who just waved at him.

You looked at Bel then back to the tall man and shook your head.

“No. No, not really. Surprisingly, Bel is pretty okay for a demon. He can’t replace...”You stopped for a moment. Then you remembered the kiss in the alleyway, feeling guilty. “He didn’t cause any trouble. We’re fine.”

Dean looked suspiously between you and Belphegor but nodded and walked over to Cas. You turned over to the demon who was leaning against Baby.

“Bel, what happened in the alleyway...that can’t happen again. I-I mean, I just lost Jack and I can’t-”

Belphegor interrupted you before you could continue.

“Calm yourself, sweetheart. What happened in the alleyway can be our little secret, all right?” He raised his eyebrow in a sly manner, making you slightly giggle, something you haven’t done in a while.

“Our secret.”

You saw his left hand and remembered how the woman in white did some damage to it. You held your hand out so you could take a closer look at it.

“Let me look at your wound.”

He shook his head. “Nah, it’s fine. I’ve been through worse.”

“Don’t care. Give me your hand.” You persisted.

Belphegor sighed and lifted his hand to allow you to grab it. You looked over the three deep scratches in his palm and bit your lip in slight disgust. You dropped his hand.

“Let’s clean that up.”

You grabbed some supplies from the Winchester brothers since they were fixing up Sam’s almost infected bullet wound. Taking a piece of bandage, you cleaned up Bel’s scars then wrapped his hand.

“You really care about me, don’t you?” He teased, cockily.

You scoffed.

“You’re in Jack’s body, I don’t anything happening to yo- it. You’re still a body stealing black-eyed bitch, Bel.”

-

A/N: Oh my god, it’s like 7am and I have been up working on this since 1am. I really need food and sleep. Stay safe, loves!

Lemme know if you wanna be tagged in my Supernatural stories!

Someone messaged me and asked me if I could tag them but I completely forgot who so whoever messaged me, please do it again so I can add you!

TAGGED:

@shortwinchester​

@coltcas​

@urlaslongasafalloutboysongtitle​

[heroineimages]

Tagged by @theoutcastrogue. (Her post)

Rules: It’s time to love yourself. Choose your 5 favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you’ve brought into the world. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works! 

Thanks so much, sweet rogue, for tagging me! Firstly, this is exactly the kind of thing my therapist tells me I need to do for myself more often. Secondly, I tend to fixate on reading back over my past writing, so this gives me an excuse to do just that. Under the cut because there’ll be several writing excerpts and it might run long. Tagging @chenria, @9musesandanoldmind, @queer-trans-amazon, @jeanjauthor, and anyone else who wants in!

1. I did a lot of tinkering on Hero Forge after they released the colors and new engine. Firstly, I found it therapeutic and helpful for my anxiety. Secondly, I have a tendency to create stories for the new OCs I come up with. In particular, I like coming up with themed versions of the twelve base D&D classes. My favorite so far is the Desert Elf minis and their story.

2. My second favorite Hero Forge buildup was the Muskets and Snow designs, pitting Frost Elf tribes against musket-armed, multiracial commonwealth soldiers, once again based around the D&D classes. (Check my Hero Forge tag for more mini designs!)

3. I added four chapters to my Legend of Korra gladiator AU last year, and commissioned a movie poster for it from my amazing artist friend, Telenia Albuquerque. I added a few fighting scenes and several explicit lesbian bedroom scenes that I’m kind of proud of, including a fun, racy striptease. In the following scene, Asami breaks up a meeting between Varrick and none other than Marc Antony after Varrick attempts to abduct her and poison her bodyguards, including Korra:

“You said our host tried to abduct you?” [Antony] continued, turning to Asami.

“Of course not!” Varrick interrupted, stepping between Asami and Antony. “We’re pals, right, Antony? You know I’d never abduct anybody!”

“Mm, I seem to recall you abducting Titus Atticus’s wife, as well as the late Clodius Pulcher’s favorite catamite,” Antony replied.

“Allegedly!” Varrick protested, turning away and crossing his arms. “I allegedly abducted Atticus’s wife and Pulcher’s catamite!”

“Everything you do is ‘allegedly,’” Asami glared.

“So you’ve had dealings with this bastard before,” Antony laughed. “Please, come in,” he invited, gesturing to Varrick’s office. “No doubt we can handle this like civilized people, miss…?”

“Asami Sato,” Asami answered, allowing Antony to take and kiss her hand.

“Ah! Master Hiroshi’s daughter,” he identified her. “I’ve heard about you, and I’m delighted to make your acquaintance.”

“I’m sure,” Asami agreed with a hint of smooth annoyance.

“Great, thanks a lot, Zhu Li,” Varrick grumbled as the six of them trooped into his office. “What the heck happened, anyway?”

“It would seem you underestimated Mistress Sato, sir,” Zhu Li informed him, [still tossed over the gladiatrix’s shoulder]. The armored pauldron pressed into her gut was really uncomfortable. “She already had her guards inoculated against our poison.”

“What? How could you possibly know that?” Varrick demanded, turning to Asami.

“I’m more intelligent than you thought, and you’re less clever than you’d like to believe,” Asami answered, taking one of the three chairs in the room. “And, frankly, that old Persian trick of poisoning the dancing girls’ lips isn’t as cunning as you thought. It was all a matter of knowing what poisons you have access to and researching which ones work on contact and can have resistances built up for them.”

“Smart,” Antony agreed, taking the second chair while Acainissa stuffed Varrick in the chair behind his desk. Hebasken and Acainissa took up positions on either side of Varrick’s chair, looming over him.

“Varrick, this other door leads to your bedchambers, doesn’t it?” Asami asked, pointing to the curtained doorway.

“Yeah, why?” Varrick frowned. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Korra, are you up for a bit of… revenge-sex?” Asami asked.

“I’m always up for revenge and sex,” Korra assured her.

“Take Zhu Li into Varrick’s chambers and fuck her stupid, please.” Asami instructed. “She’s a very intelligent woman, so I suspect that will take a lot of fucking to accomplish.”

Korra laughed and turned to pack Zhu Li through the door.

4. I’ve also made some progress on an older story I started a long time ago about my OC Elindra, a Drow paladin of the Red Knight who gets turned to a Drider by fanatics of Lolth. The following scene comes during the big escape from Ched Nasad between her and her dwarf cleric friend, Nell:

I used the glaive to parry the [Drider] warrior’s first assault. The snarly bastard was skilled, blocking and parrying my every attack, despite my Haste spell. And even if I did land a hit, my odds of breaking his Stoneskin were frustratingly small. I gave way instead, using my quickened speed to my advantage. An arrow flashed past us, announcing the return of the annoying ranger from earlier. I grimaced from frustration as another arrow shattered against my Mithral spaulder.

This was taking too damned long. No doubt the alarm had been raised and more guards and spell-casters were on their way.

Dueling with the warrior, I deliberately backed myself toward another aperture in the webs. I parried the warrior’s mace, managing to rap him across the face with the butt of my glaive. As he lunged again, I dropped my glaive and caught his arm. From there I leapt backward, pulling him though the gap with me. He caught the edge of the webs with two clawed legs, flipping us through upside-down. Still clutching his arm, my weight yanked him through the gap behind me.

A slightly larger Drider, I flipped myself onto his back, riding him downward as we plummeted. Gripping him by the hair, I screamed, “Smite Evil!” as we hit, slamming his head into the hardened webbing below.

The impact threw me from the warrior’s back, and I skidded onto my side perhaps twelve feet away. The warrior’s head was obliterated—a black, bloody smear across the calcified web floor.

“You alright?” I asked Nell as I picked myself up.

“Ye’re focking crazy, ye know that, Elindra?” Nell grumbled behind me, [still harnessed to my back]. “Ooh, that’s a pretty mess!” she laughed when I turned to look for a way back up. “Aye, let’s see ye Stoneskin protect ye from that shite, motherfocker!” she taunted the dead Drider.

5. And, lastly I’m happy with a lot of the progress I’ve made on my novel, First Empress. The following excerpt is a cute, racy little flashback scene of Elissa and Queen Viarra’s first time having sex:

“O–oh, gods!” Elissa groaned, catching her breath as she came down from her third climax.

Princess Viarra gripped the blanket on either side of Elissa’s shoulders, grunting as she thrust against Elissa’s leg to ride out her own climax. Broad, muscular arms trembling, her thrusts continued to get slower and more deliberate as she finished herself off. Her highness’s entire body shook one last time, and she gave a panting laugh before collapsing halfway atop Elissa.

They lay laughing and gasping for breath for long moments, their legs tangled together, their right breasts squashed against the other’s sternum. Princess Viarra’s arms splayed off to the sides while Elissa’s trembling arms clutched her love’s shoulders. Their shoulders were about even, but Viarra’s cunny now rested against Elissa’s knee. Their clothes lay discarded to one side with the wine they’d stolen from King Vaso and the erotic poetry they’d stolen from Prince Kallis. Above them, the peach trees of King Vaso’s orchard swayed in the afternoon breeze.

“I’m not squishing you, am I?” Viarra asked, her face still half-pressed against the tangle of brown and copper hair next to Elissa’s right ear.

“No,” Elissa laughed, wishing she had the energy to clutch her beloved princess tighter. “I feel safe beneath you,” she promised. “You make me feel safe and happy.”

“And you make me happy,” her highness assured her, turning her head to kiss and nibble at Elissa’s cheek. Elissa squealed and used one hand to try to push her away.

Unrelenting, Princess Viarra made a nasal, growling sound and pretended to gnaw on Elissa’s neck. “Grar! I just want to eat you up, you’re so sweet!” her highness declared, making exaggerated chewing noises against Elissa’s neck and shoulder.

Gods, her highness had gotten so strong the last few years, Elissa acknowledged as she squealed and giggled, unsuccessfully attempting to fight back. Viarra’s arms were probably bigger around than Elissa’s legs, and her shoulders were almost half-again as broad as Elissa’s. And she was tall. Possibly as tall as her mother as well as thick and big-boned, Princess Viarra was just too big and strong for anyone except maybe a wrestler or a gladiator to overpower.

Clearly Elissa would have to resort to guile instead.

Viarra shrieked out a series of giggles as Elissa reached up to tickle her sides. “Gods, no!” her highness squealed, attempting to push Elissa’s hands away. Unable to quite grab onto them, Viarra pushed herself away, laughing as she rolled onto her back.

Instead of renewing her assault, Elissa rolled over next to her, draping her left arm across Viarra’s chest and left leg across her waist.

“That was amazing,” Elissa admitted, snuggling up against her beloved’s nude form. “Thank you for being my first.”

“Thank you for being my first,” Princess Viarra countered, wrapping an arm around Elissa’s bare back. “I never imagined sex would feel like that.”

“You seemed to know what you were doing,” Elissa observed. “I mean, I could tell you were trying out techniques and all, but where did you learn them?”

“I asked Captain Vola,” her highness admitted looking over at her. “She’s pretty candid about sex advice, and even Captain Kellor admits it’s usually good advice. Part of the reason I brought you out here was because I wanted to try it, and there’s no one I’d rather try it with than you,” she added, reaching over to stroke Elissa’s cheek.

Elissa blushed and smiled, stroking her love’s powerful belly. “I’m glad you did,” she admitted, unable to think of anything else to say.

[yikesharringrove]

Happy Trans Billy Week!

Day 3: Bakery/Chef!au

@transbillyhargrove @blurbwitch

Harringrove

-

BIlly is ftm, Stevie is mtf

-

“At least just try her stuff. She’s really good!”

Robin was trying to sell Billy on her friend, again.

He had been working his ass off opening this cafe, had been interviewing professional bakers around the city for it. And Robin wanted him to hire her friend. Who baked for fun.

“And she’ll work in house! You would just have to pay her a salary, not give her a cut of everything sold.” Billy rolled his eyes.

“But then I would have to buy all the shit for her to bake everything.”

“But you’ll make bank on her stuff. She makes these little doughnut things, but they’re double fried and made with like, puff pastry.

“So not a doughnut at all.” She slapped his chest.

“Fuck you. People would pay like, five whole dollars for one ‘a those. At least just try.”

“Fine. Have her bring me some samples of stuff on Monday. I want cookies, coffee cakes, specialty pastries, crossiants, and whatever that not-doughnut thing is.” Robin grinned at him.

-

Robin came in on Monday trying to awkwardly bring a giant box into the cafe.

“Stevie couldn’t make it. She had a doctor’s appointment or something. But anyway, here’s what you asked for.” She placed it down on a table, pointing at everything.

“So she made chocolate chip cookies, gingersnaps, snickerdoodles, and teas cookies, croissants, coffee cake, carrot cake, chese cake, that doughnutty-thing, actual doughnuts, brownies and lemon bars. I think she didn’t sleep for like, four days.”

Billy was impressed. It was a good spread.

“She also made me bring a loaf of sourdough in case you’re doing like, toast stuff. I said you weren’t, but I think she feels bad for not being here.”

They tried everything.

And unfortunately, is was all fucking delicious.

“Fine. She’s fucking hired.” Billy made a list of everything he wanted to sell, thought maybe the delicious not-doughnuts could be a bit of a speicality, new flavors every week. “I’ll need a comprehensive list of ingredients, and she’ll probably have to check out the set up we got here.”

Billy hadn’t really wanted an in-house baker, but he hadn’t ripped out the ovens, proving drawers, coolers and counters in the back, so he supposed it would work out okay.

“And tell her I want an in person meeting within the next few days.”

-

Billy was scrubbing out one of the ovens in the back when he heard the bell above the door.

“Sorry, we’re closed,” He called.

“Um, I’m Stevie Harrington? I’m Robin’s baker friend? You said I should come see the space?” Billy got up with a groan, stretching until his back popped.

“You tellin’ me, or askin’.” He pushed open the back door, smirking at the girl standing on the other side of his counter. She was tall, had much fucking dark hair, falling almost to her ass and big round eyes.

“Telling. I’m sorry I couldn’t be here yesterday. That appointment was important. Billy shrugged. “I have a list of ingredients for you. I figured how many of each item per day, and broke it up into waht I would need weekly and monthly, since I don’t know how you’re planning on ordering everything.” Billy nodded at the neat handwriting.

“Your stuff was good. I was thinking for those double fried things, we could do a new flavor every week. Make them a bit of a specialty.” Her cheeks went a little pink.

“Thank you. I’m so glad you liked everything, and decidded to give me this opportunity.” He smiled at her.

“You’re talented. Come see what I got.” She followed him to the back, her eyes going wide as she looked at the industrial ovens. “This place was a bakery, so we’ve got everything you should need.” The old owner had passed away, didn’t have anyone to leave the bakery to.

“Oh, this is perfect. When’s opening?”

“We’re four weeks out. I was planning on ripping all this out, so it has to be cleaned, but everything else is ahead of schedule.” Stevie opened an oven, peerinf inside.

“They’re not too gross. The old owners tool good care of everything.” She took of her jacket, was left just in her pretty dark blue dress. “I’ll help you clean.” She smiled at him as she took the cleaning supplies from him, getting to work scrubbing down the oven.

Billy played some music as they worked, chatting lightly to one another.

“So, how’d you end up in Seattle?” Billy had shot straight up here after graduating hisgh school, didn’t want to leave the west coast, but wanted to go somewhere different. Stevie had mentioned being from a small town in the midwest.

“Just kinda needed a fresh start. Robin and I moved out here together about six years ago, now. She went to University of Washington, and I jsut wanted to live somewhere interesting for once. Plus, it’s just better for me here.” Billy nodded.

“Me too.” She smiled at him. She had put her dark hair into a messy bun to keep it out of her face, and Billy had gotten her an apron to keep her dress neat.

“What made you want to open a cafe?”

“Well, I mean, it’s Seattle.” She laughed. “But I also just liked the idea of running my own business. Building something from the ground up. And I like the vibe of cafes. They’re just in between places. You can come alone and just hang out.”  Billy had gotten many comfortable mis-matched chairs and placed them amoungst the tables and chairs. He wasnted it to be cozy. He had bookshelves on one wall, thought he could even have a take-a-book-leave-a-book kinda thing goin’ on.

“I think that’s really nice.”

-

Stevie started coming over everyday to help him clean out the kitchen. Somteims she would drag Robin, but more often than not, it was just the two of them, scrubbing everything out, listening to music and talking about random things.

But one day Stevie didn’t come in, didn’t call Billy to let him know, didn’t send Robin with a message.

Billy thought he was frustrated that his employee was missing, but really, he was just worried.

She looked tired the next day when she came in, her hair up in a messy ponytail, was wearing baggy jeans and a sweatshirt.

“I’m so sorry. I promise that will not happen again.” She had gotten right to work.

“Look, I don’t mind if you need personal days, just call me. Let me know.” She nodded at him, her eyes were bright. “Are you okay?” Her lip trembled.

“I’m sorry. I just, sometimes I have such bad days, and I can’t stand to look at myself, and I don’t want anyone else to look at me. And you’re always so nice to me, and I, I didn’t want you looking at me with your pretty eyes. I knew I would fucking fall apart.”

She was kneeling on the floor, fucking crying as she scrubbed at the proving drawer. Her make up was beginning to run just a bit.

Billy grabbed a fw paper towels, sitting down next to her.

“You wanna talk about it?” She shook her head.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.” She wiped at her esys, smudging the dark makeup underneath. He took the paper towel from her hands, wiping up streaked makeup.

He was staring into her big dark eyes, noticed the soft honey gold in them, the forest green.

“Is it okay if I kissed you?” Her gaze dropped to his lips.

“Yeah,” she breathed.

Billy leaned in, kissing her softly, keeping it slow and chaste.

He pulled back, dabbing at her eyes again.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while. I’m sorry, that probably wasn’t the best timing, I just, I really like you.” Her lip trembled.

“The reason, the reason I was feeling so bad yesterday was, was because everytime I speak to my parents on the phone, they call me their son.” She swallowed hard.

“The last time I spoke to my dad, he called me his ungrateful bitch of a daughter. I get it, Stevie. I really do.” Stevie whimpered, another tear slipping out.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t, didn’t know if I could tell you.” He smiled at her, wiping her eyes one last time, kissing her cheek.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to tell anyone anything.” She gave a watery laugh.

“Thank you, for being kind to me.”

“You’re a good person, Stevie. You deserve kindness.” She smiled at him, pulling back to take a deep breath. “And I meant what I said. I really like you. I’d like to take you on a date, if that’s okay.”

She nodded vigorously, ponytail bouncing.

“Oh, yeah! I had the biggest crush on you since I walked in here. I mean, Robin’s been trying to set us up for like, months.” BIlly raised one eyebrow, giving her a lopsided smile.

“Are you serious? Is that why she was so insistent on me trying your stuff?”

“Well, and that fact that I’m a damn good baker.” He laughed. She was grinning as she moved back to scrubbing the drawer. “She’s gonna be so smug. I can already hear her. Stevie, I TOLD you that you would love him. He’s JUST yout type.” Billy grinned iwder.

“And what is your type?”

“Beefy assholes that’re way smarter than me.”

[bumblepuppy]

Well, since you asked!

They’re pretty on the mark in their review, yeah. I got to the trans character after the worst parts were patched out, but she is still... not handled well, which is pretty egregious since The Missing came out not too long ago. To start off as to why she (and pretty much every other character who isn’t York or Patricia) is handled poorly, I have to talk about how the game is structured compared to the first one. The first game had twenty-something chapters. These could range from long to short and after you visit Harry’s mansion for the final time the game goes into railroad mode, but for the earlier chapters you can talk to characters and do quests for them, as well as explore the town. The characters have at least one unique thing to say per chapter (probably two depending on weather/time of day?), which makes avoiding the main plot and doing meandering around town a lot of fun. A lot of this dialogue gives backstory for the characters, and even for the flatter characters it helps for the town to feel more alive. The second game only has four chapters, and the last one is railroad mode. There are far fewer named characters, and they only get one piece of dialogue per chapter. Disappointing, especially when this game has a week system that the first game doesn’t have but characters will say the same thing regardless of the day of the week. With one exception, the sidequests add nothing to the plot or give you any insight about the characters. Also, pretty minor, but you can’t peak into characters’ houses anymore, which just adds to the characters being pretty flat. SO... only four chapters and no extra dialogue. That’s kind of boring, isn’t it?  It doesn’t stop there, unfortunately. Most of the victims die in the chapter they’re introduced in, and Lena (the problematic trans lady) isn’t even a character that you can meet outside of the story--she’s mentioned a few times and you pass her once, but she only exists in cutscenes and as a boss battle rather than having any dialogue or motivation outside of that. And this hurts her as a character a lot. So, her introduction! In itself, not bad. York runs into her by accident, addresses her as a stylish woman, and after the worst mandatory quest (not offensive, just boring and time wasting), he finds out her name and address on her hormone prescription. He goes to her house and she’s not there, and has a conversation with Patricia about her where Patricia reveals that her father tells her to stay away from Lena (presumably because she’s trans) and how she gets angry about Lena being treated differently, York says Trans Rights, but that he still wants to talk to Lena because she’s a suspect, all good so far. When he actually meets her in the bar... this is where the dialogue was patched. Lena isn’t telling York everything and he’s suspicious, so he skateboards after her and ends up at her family’s mansion. Otherworld gameplay commences, and this is when the player realizes that all of the otherworld levels look the same instead of looking like corrupted versions of hospitals/lumber mills/ art galleries like the first game. You find out that Lena is trying to murder her father, the big bad patriarch of the family, and will go down with him. Before she explodes the house, her father tearfully says that he was okay with her being transgender, while also deadnaming and misgendering her the whole time. Hm. He also says that he knows that she and her sister had sexual relations with each other. Okay. She explodes the room and both of their heads fall off and are impaled on a chandelier. End chapter 2. But... that’s not it for Lena! Chapter 3 begins with Patricia’s dad and the town cop, Melvin, disappearing. You find Lena’s journal where she mentions canoodling with her sister and the fact that they had a kid together. She also mentions getting Candy, her sister and girlfriend, addicted to a drug she’s been manufacturing, which is made with the red seeds we know and love. Other stuff happens, Patricia is kidnapped, and you find out that Melvin has kidnapped her and is doing some ritual where he’ll kill both her and Candy, who now weighs like 500 pounds due to being pumped full of St. Rouge and is a non-character. Melvin rambles on about how much he loved Lena and how her sister was just a pawn in their vague family murder plan. York yells at Melvin and tells him to snap out of it. He does, and he and Candy end up dying instead of Patricia, and then Hurricane Katrina happens and the case is left unsolved. Then Zach comes back almost twenty years later to solve the case and it turns out Patricia was kidnapped again but this time by Avery, a giant man who the game makes sure that you know is so mentally impaired that his boss battle form is a giant child.

Blah blah, Kaysen appears, Zach kills him once and for all and this also kills his terminal cancer. I do actually like the ultimate ending because it’s a nicer turn than the original because you find out that York and Zach are communicating between our world and the realm of the forest goddesses via instant messaging and that’s cute, I like that. Also Patricia and Zach become lifelong friends and that’s also sweet because Patricia is probably the best thing about DP2, but ultimately the game itself is empty at best and offensive at worst, in a way that’s really a step back for Swery. I’ve seen a lot of defenses for it because, hey, the first game was a janky mess with some weird decisions too! But... sure, it’s glitchy, but it also has its own logic and world building and it feels lived in, not to mention that you can actually solve the mystery with what’s in the game itself. Even if Thomas isn’t handled in the best way, the game’s final verdict is that Thomas is a victim who deserves sympathy. And ffs, the first game had symbolism and foreshadowing and characters who had likes and dislikes and secrets and hobbies and aaagh... ANYWAY, I’ll stop here, but ultimately it just feels so... rough draft compared to the first game. I think it would have worked better as a book or visual novel, since there’s really no reason for it to be interactive with how nothing the characters are. Patricia is still great though.

[officialjakotsu]

How fandom fucked me up and got me abused

People often say fiction doesn’t effect reality, when defending their “controversial” ships. Firstly. This is complete and utter bullshit as you can find with a quick google search.

Secondly, I want to add in with my own personal experience as to how fiction and fandom was used to lure me into specific mindsets and allowing my abuse.

HEAVY TW FOR ABUSE AND SEXUAL ASSAULT OF A MINOR

When I was 12, I came out as bisexual to a close friend, who we will refer to as L. L, at the time, identified as a girl but has since come out as a trans boy. I will be referring to him with he/him pronouns but I feel it’s important to keep that at the time we believed we were in a same sex relationship. I believe L was 14 at the time (he was one grade above me but a little older for his grade and I have always been one of it not the youngest in my grade due to my birthday.)

L and I had first become acquainted through school and became friends due to shared fandom interests, at the time this being Hetalia. (I could write a whole essay on why Hetalia is bad alone in its effect on people, but that’s not the point. Also I was 12 and didn’t realize it.) After about a year after meeting was when he asked me out and I happily accepted. During our relationship, he also introduced me to Homestuck, which I then became a fan of.

As our relationship continued, we both got very into very roleplay, usually of our favorite ships, most of these being ones L liked that I just liked for him. The important ones to this story being Dirkjake, Dirkhal, Johnjake, and Erisol. With Johnjake, this was a very sneaky way to get me to ship incest. I had not, at the time, realized it was incest. Dirkhal was something I was uncomfortable with, but he pressured me into roleplay with it.

The dynamics between Dirkjake, Dirkhal, and Erisol are... Uncomfortable, to think of now. Dirkjake, as a relationship, canonically failed because it was toxic, and when I read it I was upset they broke up despite how obviously toxic it was. I couldn’t read it as that, because of L. With Dirkhal, it was always roleplay as incredibly passive aggressive between us (the few times I gave in to his begging to roleplay it). Erisol was always roleplayed incredibly aggressive, like how they acted to each other in canon (the characters hate each other.)

These dynamics were romanticized- possessiveness, jealousy, and aggression towards your partner. Then in other fan media I consumed, I found the romanticization of the taking of innocence, of relationships between a caretaker type and the person they were taking care of, of someone incredibly possessive over their partner, of specific types of abuse that made it so much harder for me to realize I was being abused. This was all stuff introduced to me by fandoms, by fanfiction, whether through my own internet usage, or my abuser showing them to me.

I was also drawn into this idea that because it was a “gay” relationship, it was better and more pure than a “hetero” relationship. I was told gay people weren’t abusive. And I believed that.

Fandom taught me these things were okay. Fandom taught my ABUSER these things were okay. So despite how bad it made me feel, how isolated from my family I felt, I thought it was okay. I was the younger one, I told myself this was how relationships were supposed to work because this is how fandom taught me and how my abuser taught me they were. I was inexperienced and I easily swayed because I was a child. Remember, I was a 12 year old when this relationship began. I was 14 when it ended. It was my first relationship. I had no clue how this shit was supposed to work.

Even after the relationship ended I didn’t realize how bad it was. I had found by then it wasn’t good because I saw a post on tumblr warning me about red flags in a relationship and I noticed some of them lined up with L. But even then I didn’t know it was as abusive as it was. It wasn’t until about four years later that it hit me.

Through the romanticization of the dynamics between those relationships, from all the fanfiction, and the fan content, I had gotten abused horrifically. He used this in roleplay, and in our overall relationship, to gaslight me, to abuse and then lovebomb, to excuse himself, and to sexually assault me. He used roleplay to push me into sexual situations I was uncomfortable with (again. I was 12/13/14 during this relationship) and this was an action that was played off as “cute” or “romantic.” He was my “first” in so many things and he loved to coo over my inexperience and lack of knowledge of these things. My childishness was seen as cute. How is this not creepy?

To this day I have trauma. It’s been years but even as I’m typing this out I’m getting itchy and shaky and my chest hurts. I still see L sometimes and every time I do I’m reminded of what he did to me. And he did more outside of fandom too- he tried to ruin my life and tell my friends I cheated on him (I didn’t). I was taken advantage of in so many different ways, because of my introduction to fandom spaces, and the rampant romanticization of abuse in fandoms. I’m not trying to promote “purity culture” or whatever I’m trying to protect vulnerable young kids who are like I used to be, from the situation I was in. My relationship with my mother has never fully recovered. My mental health has never fully recovered. I still have nightmares about him. My relationship with myself is still skewed, and I’m still a fucking doormate because that’s what I was turned into.

Anyway this post is a mess because I can’t fully coherently talk about L, but long story short?

I won’t sit back and let you ship what you want and romanticize what you want. If I can save even one little kid from what I went through, then it’s enough. Fuck you and fuck your ships.

And if any of you pro ship fuckers come on here to complain, you get blocked immediately. I don’t want to hear you defend yourselves on a post where I’ve just told you I was assaulted because of your rhetorics. Fuck you

[canonicallyanxious]

hi, If you are still doing taking asks for the top 5 of whatever, I have one. Top 5 (or 10) scenes in the skamverse?

anon this is a really good ask and i’m unfortunately absolute trash for the skamverse so it’s gonna have to be my top 10 skjdnfskjdnfs in the interest of fairness though I’m going to try my best to limit myself to one scene/clip per season [also cut on this one bc it got long oops]

1. Minutt for minutt [og skam s3]

Words cannot express how much this scene still means to me four years after i first saw it. Like this is the scene that made Even and Isak’s relationship so special to me, this is probably the scene or at least one of them that tipped this show from “oh this is really good” to “i will fucking die on this hill for skam” for me. like, just the tenderness of Isak quietly watching Even as he sleeps. the soft physical affection a mentally ill character is allowed to have on screen. this beautiful yet grounded dialogue about coping with mental illness which cheesy as it might sound is also something i’ve very often taken to heart in my own struggle with coping with mental illness since. like god. truly groundbreaking, honestly.

2. David’s coming out scene in druck s3 ep 8 - “i am a boy. i just have to try a little harder” [druck s3]

this scene came very, very close to beating minutt for minutt and honestly on a different day it might have done so, just today i decided to put minutt for minutt at the top simply because it’s been with me for longer. but i think this was probably the most emotionally moving clip for me in the entire season, and i had the privilege to watch it in real time which makes it even more special to me. it was everything i could have ever wanted from david’s coming out - soft, aching, quiet, devastating writing that broke my entire heart. and “i am a boy; i just have to try a little harder” is probably a line that’s going to stick with me for a very long time. i can’t think of another trans person’s coming out scene in mainstream media that has touched me as deeply as this one.

3. Fatou and Kieu My’s museum date in druck s6 ep 6 [druck s6]

this scene has everything. EVERYTHING. space imagery! soft and tender kisses! hands brushing in the dark! yearning looks! playful banter! serious conversations about feelings that move forward both their development! like it just reminds me so viscerally of falling in love for the first time as a teenager. druck in general i think does a very good job of portraying teen romance but the fact that this teen romance is about two wlwoc [one of whom is vietnamese like bitch!!!!] means EVERYTHING to me. like this more than anything else in the entire skamverse is something I wish my teen self had gotten to see. i’ve probably seen this clip about twenty times because part of me still can’t believe it exists.

4. The Carnival scene at the end of the last episode of skam austin s1 [skam austin s1]

honestly i think the entire last clip of skam austin s1 is just pure excellence [even if they made me watch Meg and Marlon have sex in a car wash smfh]. like one of my favorite things about og skam was how it really gave their characters room to breathe and take their time with their conversations and i think this clip is probably one of the ones that come the closest to capturing that energy for me [no wonder i guess since julie andem was so involved with this season]. but i love the carnival scene in particular because i love the energy it captures in meg’s dynamics with the other characters and it’s just such a nice opportunity for them all to finally breathe after a difficult season. also i will never ever forget the pure euphoria of watching Shay become a confirmed lesbian on screen in real time [even if i still think the way it was done was kinda meh]. i think i was giddy for the rest of the fucking night after i saw that.

5. Nora breaking up with Miquel for good in skamesp s3 ep 8 [skamesp s3]

i actually think skamesp s3 is one of the best remake seasons of the skamverse. An incredible feat for skamesp to make me rank a NOORHELL season near the top, but honestly skamesp s3 is much more than a noorhell season, like i think the story it tells is hard to watch but very important to tell. i especially love this clip because it’s just such a well thought out culmination of Nora’s arc throughout the season. and it’s so devastating in how understated it is. the acting is phenomenal, the lighting is gorgeous, my breath was taken away by the way Nora said “don’t touch me” with her hair blowing gently around her face. just very good.

6. Josh and Nora’s second break-up scene at the end of druck s5 ep 9 [druck s4]

what does it say about me that this is the THIRD BREAK UP CLIP on this list skdjdnfksdnfsdkn. i genuinely did have a really hard time picking one clip for s5 [other top contenders include the last clip of ep 8 and the cuddle clip at the beginning of ep 6] but i went with this one because a. i love to suffer and b. the way josh plays with nora’s jacket and then she gently pulls away and his hands still linger bc he can’t quite bring himself to let her go just yet fucking HAUNTS ME. watching this scene genuinely made me feel like i was going through a break up myself, maybe because it reminded me so much of my own first break up in a lot of ways. kudos to the strong writing and stellar performances from the actors here.

7. Best of Islam [og skam s4]

Yousana the true og m/f relationship i was overly invested in... i miss they... anyway this clip is really good just on its own and i think it’s a good encapsulation of everything i wanted this season to be. i love that Sana got to talk about her experiences and her relationship with her religion; i love that yousef listens to her carefully and talks about his own experiences and feelings; i love their playful energy; I LOVE YOUSEF GIVING SANA THE FLOWER. truly it doesn’t get better than this.

8. Amira and Mohammed get back together at the end of druck s4 ep 7 [druck s4]

i love this scene because i think it showcases the very best of Amira and Mohammed’s dynamic. the way they listen to each other, their playful manner with each other, how utterly taken they are with each other. i love also that Mohammed finally got to talk about his experiences as a refugee and how that connects to his religion. and the whole exchange about baklava still has me so ;-; ;-; the chemistry these two have is absolutely unreal. i will never get over Amira being cheated of the last few episodes of her season. the greatest injustice to experience after a clip like this, truly.

9. Life in Italics [skam austin s2]

aside from the first ep this might be the only clip i’ve actually seen from this season but i stand by this choice sorry not sorry shay dixon performing an absolute bop in a pink wig is just too iconic

10. Crisana cuddle scene in skamesp s2 episode 6 [skamesp s2]

I think I’ve loved basically every remake version of the iconic s3 ep 5 cuddle clip i’ve seen but this one has stuck with me in particular just because it was really special to me to be able to see two girls be so soft and gentle and loving with each other. no excessive make-up, no hypersexualization, nothing glossy or glamorized about it. i honestly often have a really hard time connecting to teen wlw romance but this was one of those times it actually felt real to me. also the song choice for this clip is simply chef’s kiss

Ask me my top 5/10 anything!

[puttingherinhistory]

December 27, 2015 by Suzannah Weiss

I was young when I came to discover masturbation, and I had orgasms long before I knew what they were.

Nothing about it seemed complicated. I just rubbed “down there” for a few minutes, and it happened. But later, magazines, comedy routines, and sitcoms taught me that my body – and vaginas in general – were mysterious and complex, often too complex for those without them to figure out.

Confirming what I’d been taught, orgasms weren’t as simple with partners as they were by myself. This is to be expected to some extent. There’s a learning curve when you’re getting to know someone new. But what confused me was that not everyone seemed eager to learn.

“Sorry,” I (unnecessarily) apologized to a partner for taking what I thought was too long.

“It’s okay. I know it’s harder for girls,” he said – and then stopped.

Compounding the lack of effort I encountered from some (though not all) partners, it became harder for me to orgasm when I started SSRI antidepressants. When I told my doctor, she said, “Oh, that’s hard for a lot of women anyway.”

I knew my body long and well enough to know being a woman wasn’t to blame, but others didn’t share my view that the problem was fixable. I grew hesitant to bring it up with partners out of fear that asking them to perform the supposedly impossible feat of getting a woman off was too demanding.

Orgasm doesn’t have to be the focus of sex, but if a woman wants one, she should have as much of a right to request it as anyone else does.

When people say that women’s bodies are more difficult – and these generalizations typically refer to cis women and are accompanied by rants about how complicated vaginas are – they teach cis women that an orgasm is too tall an order.

Trans women also have a slew of sexual stigmas attached to them, which Kai Cheng Thom describes here, though they’re beyond the scope of this article. In addition, though most research on orgasm inequity has studied cis women, trans and non-binary people with vaginas may relate to the frustrations of being taught their genitals are impossible to decode, too.

The view that cis women are hard to please maintains what sociologists call the orgasm gap, in which men have three orgasms for every one a woman enjoys, and 57% of women orgasm during all or most of their sexual encounters, but 95% say their partners do.

These statistics may appear to confirm the stereotype that women’s bodies are more complicated, but there are other forces at work.

As sociologist Lisa Wade points out, the orgasm gap is conditional. Lesbians report orgasming 74.7% of the time, only 10 percentage points lower than gay men. In addition, women take under four minutes on average to masturbate to orgasm.

If these statistics don’t convince you that there’s more to the orgasm gap than biology, here are twelve cultural factors that contribute to it.

1. People Believe Women Are Less Sexual

Women, the story goes, aren’t that into sex.

They may enjoy it, but they do it partially in exchange for validation, commitment, or financial support, popular wisdom says. As long as a woman is getting one of those things, she doesn’t need much out of the sex itself.

To the contrary, a lot of research and lived experiences indicate that women are as capable of wanting and enjoying sex as men.

Until we acknowledge this, we won’t prioritize making sex as enjoyable as possible for women because we’ll believe sexual pleasure isn’t as important to them.

It may not be because women themselves may buy into myths about their gender, neglecting their desires because they’re not supposed to have them. If they do, they and their partners miss out on balanced sexual interactions, not to mention fun.

2. Pornography Privileges Male Pleasure

Most people who have watched porn videos know they typically culminate with a “money shot” in which the man comes, and then the scene ends. Most woman-focused orgasms depicted in porn are merely incidental events on the path to a man’s pleasure.

Additionally, most mainstream porn scenes feel incomplete without blow jobs, while cunnilingus is less common.

All in all, the message is clear: It’s imperative that a man gets off, and if a woman manages to in the process, props to him, but it’s just an added bonus.

3. The Myth of ‘Blue Balls’ Persists

Blue balls, according to Urban Dictionary, is “the excrutiating [sic] pain a man receives when his balls swell to the size of coconuts because of lack of sex, unfinished bjs, and just not cummin when he knows he should.”

The entitlement reflected in this description is characteristic of most uses of the term “blue balls.” While vasocongestion, the accumulation of blood flow to the genitals, can occasionally cause mild pain in people with any genitals, this is not what men are usually referring to when they complain about blue balls. And whether they’re experiencing this or just sexual frustration, it’s never anyone else’s duty to relieve it.

Even though most women know no medical condition results from an erection that doesn’t lead to an orgasm, many of us feel guilty for not providing one. So, in addition to some men’s lack of effort to pleasure women, the pressure many women feel to pleasure men maintains the orgasm gap.

4. There’s More Information in the Media About Pleasing Cis Men Than Women

As a teenager, my secret guilty pleasure was buying copies of Cosmo from the drugstore and hiding them under my pillow to read at night.

I read all their sex articles just because I found anything sex-related titillating, but along the way, I learned all about different tricks to please men – and cis men, specifically. By the time I encountered a real-life penis, I already knew all the basic tricks in the book, plus some out-there ones my dude friends urged me not to try.

I don’t know what most teenage boys’ secret reading material was, but there aren’t many mainstream men’s magazines as obsessed with pleasing women as women’s are with pleasing men. If anything, I’ve heard it’s common for boys to sneak glimpses of Playboy, which is also geared toward pleasing men.

Maybe this explains why 25% of men and 30% of women can’t locate the clitoris on a diagram.

Amid all the advice we read about different ways to hold and touch a penis, many remain in the dark about vulvas and vaginas.

5. Hookup Culture Privileges Male Pleasure

“I will do everything in my power to, like whoever I’m with, to get [him] off,” one woman said in a study by Elizabeth Armstrong on college hookups. But when it came to their own pleasure, women held different expectations.

“The guy kind of expects to get off, while the girl doesn’t expect anything,” a woman in another study by Lisa Wade said.

Accordingly, one man in Armstrong’s study boasted, “I’m all about making her orgasm,” but when asked to clarify the word “her,” he added, “Girlfriend her. In a hookup her, I don’t give a shit.” Perhaps he sensed that women don’t expect much from their hookups.

Statistics about women’s orgasms reflect these attitudes.

The ratio of men’s and women’s orgasms is 3.1:1 for first-time hookups, but only 1.25:1 for relationships.

For whatever reason, hookup culture appears to have embraced the message espoused by the media that women’s orgasms are optional, while men’s are obligatory.

6. Sex Education Doesn’t Teach Us About Pleasure, Especially Female Pleasure

Like many schools in the US, mine only had a couple of days a year dedicated to sex education in middle and high school. During the initial classes on puberty, the portion about women was on periods and the portion about men was on erections, ejaculation, and wet dreams.

Already, our bodies were associated with making babies, while boys’ were associated with sexual arousal and pleasure.

Later on, we learned how to use a condom – along with how to complete a very normative sequence of events. You put it on, we were told, and then you have intercourse, and then someone ejaculates, and then you pull out and take it off. Men’s orgasms, but not women’s, were built into our safer sex lesson.

Nobody said “then you stop whenever you feel like it” or “your partner may need you to pull out” (because, contrary to what we see in porn, not every woman is multi-orgasmic and many have a refractory period, so we can’t all comfortably keep going until our partner wants to stop).

This is one sneaky way we learn to prioritize men’s pleasure without ever really learning about pleasure at all.

7. Self-Evaluative Thoughts Can Disrupt Women’s Arousal Process

Due to the emphasis on women’s appearances in mainstream porn and throughout the media, women learn to picture themselves during sex.

“How does my stomach look from this angle,” “Does my face look sexy or silly in this expression,” and “Would it be sexier if I made more noise?” are a few thoughts that have distracted me in the bedroom.

And I don’t think I’m alone: 32% of women say that when they don’t orgasm, it’s often because they’re stuck in their heads or focused on their looks.

Orgasm itself can become a source of performance anxiety.

Because the women’s orgasms are dramatized in porn and the media, with exaggerated moans and calculated facial expressions, some women feel so much pressure that fear of not coming keeps them from coming. This pressure can also lead women to fake orgasms instead of sticking it out for a real one.

Once again, women’s magazines don’t help.

Cosmo even provides a guide on “how to look even hotter naked.” Though “even” implies the reader looks hot already, the pre-bedroom workout routine and self-tanner application tips make it clear we don’t look as hot as we could – and even if we do, the focus is still on our partner’s pleasure, not what we see or feel.

Thoughts about partners’ perceptions place women outside their bodies, looking in, rather than inside them, feeling the sensations the sexual activity is causing. It’s hard to have an orgasm when you’re not even thinking sexual thoughts.

8. Sexual Trauma Can Impede Arousal and Orgasm

It’s extremely common for women to experience sexual trauma within their lifetimes. One out of six women has been the victim of attempted or completed rape.

According to sex therapist Vanessa Marin, this trauma can have lasting effects on one’s sex life.

“Sexual assault can rob your enjoyment of sex and can make any type of intimacy feel scary,” she said. “Some survivors experience feelings of disconnect or dissociation when they’re having sex. Others can easily get triggered by being touched in certain places or in specific ways.”

Marin recommends that survivors seek out therapy or a support group so they don’t have to deal with the effects of their pasts alone.

In the short-term, Marin has written that reminding yourself you’re with your partner, not the person who assaulted you, can quell trauma-related sexual problems. “Of course your brain knows that it’s [them], but this exercise can help the more subconscious parts of your psyche start to relax,” she writes.

Other emotions women disproportionately experience around sex, such as guilt and shame, may also lead to anorgasmia.

9. More Women Than Men Are on Antidepressants

SSRI antidepressants, like Prozac and Zoloft, can cause anorgasmia. This side effect isn’t gender-specific, but antidepressants themselves are.

Between 2001 and 2010, 25% of American women (but only 15% of men) had been prescribed medication for mental health conditions.

This may occur because women are more likely to suffer from anxiety and depression, both frequently treated with SSRIs, the medication class most commonly known to cause anorgasmia. There are many theories as to why, but one possible source of this difference is societal misogyny.

As Ally Boghun writes of her anxiety, “A lot of the stressors that impact me the most are actually stressors put upon women by society to look and act in certain ways.” In addition, women are more likely to seek therapy, since toxic standards of masculinity deter men from discussing their emotions.

This is one case where the orgasm gap may be related to biological differences, but the sources of these differences are still societal.

10. Women Are Discouraged from Asking for What They Want

Women are taught to accommodate others’ wishes and put their own on the back burner, to be pleasant and polite and grateful and not ask for more, whether that’s food, payment, or sexual pleasure.

To bring back Armstrong’s research, one woman said she didn’t have the “right” to request an orgasm and “felt kind of guilty almost, like I felt like I was kind of subjecting [guys] to something they didn’t want to do and I felt bad about it.”

I can relate: I’ve said “sorry” many times for requesting or giving myself the stimulation I wanted, for taking what I thought was too much time, and for receiving pleasure without immediately returning it.

The same fear that keeps women from voicing their opinions in work meetings or negotiating salaries also keeps us from speaking up in bed.

But until we can “lean in” without bumping into hostility, women can’t singlehandedly solve this problem in any domain. It’s also up to our partners, coworkers, and others to make it clear they want to hear and accommodate our wishes.

11. The Normative Definition of Sex Isn’t Optimal for Many Women’s Orgasms

When someone says “sex,” most people think of penis-in-vagina intercourse, even though it means many different things to different people.

For example, some couples may see oral sex as sex. Some may also put oral or manual sex on the same level as penetrative sex, but this is still not the norm.

When someone talks about losing their virginity, for instance, we usually assume they’re talking about the first time they had penis-in-vagina intercourse.

This assumption can be problematic for women who get off more easily through other activities.

In one survey, 20% of women said they seldom or never had orgasms during intercourse. Only 25% said they consistently do. In another, 38% said that when they don’t orgasm, a common obstacle is “not enough clitoral stimulation.”

Since penetrative sex often doesn’t directly stimulate the clitoris, this could explain why other types of sex – or clitoral stimulation during intercourse, which women considered the most common way they got off with a partner – may be more optimal.

When we consider the activities that often help women reach orgasm as warmup or extra, we deprioritize women’s pleasure.

12. People Think the Orgasm Gap Is Biological

Orgasm inequity is a self-fulfilling prophecy.

When men believe women’s bodies are an impossible puzzle, they don’t try to solve it. Neither do women who are taught their own pleasure is inaccessible.

That’s why it’s important we acknowledge all the societal factors that contribute to this discrepancy. Genetics can’t be fixed, but a lot of these problems can, which means that closing the orgasm gap is possible.

***

If you’re a woman having trouble orgasming, it’s likely not you. It may not be the result of any carelessness on your partner’s part either. You may just need to talk about it, challenge the myths you’ve learned about sexuality, and, if necessary, seek help for any psychological or medical conditions that could be contributing to the problem.

Or maybe it’s not a problem at all. Maybe orgasming isn’t important to you, and that’s your choice as well. But if it is something you would like, you have the same right to ask for it as your partner. If he expects orgasms from you, he shouldn’t mind you wanting one.

It’s not too much to ask, and your anatomy isn’t too complicated. The only thing that’s complicated is the toxic set of messages we’re taught about sexuality. But that’s not on you or your body.

[dmitri-smerdyakov]

The Fantastic Beasts Franchise and JK Rowling

Alright, so...hi everyone.

I don’t know how many people follow this blog anymore because my main blog of operation is now @alwaysahiccupandastrid - I still try to keep this blog relatively active though, just because it was my original blog, I’ve had it since I was 13, and I have so many memories attached to it.

I’m aware that a lot of the people who follow me, especially since late 2016, do so because a) I was a loud and proud Fantastic Beasts fan, b) I wrote some Newtina and Jakweenie fic, and c)...I don’t know. I literally don’t know why people bother following me anywhere because I don’t feel like I have a lot to say. But, anyway, many people probably follow me due to Fantastic Beasts and my posts/fanfics within the fandom.

Those who follow my active blog will already know my feelings and thoughts, but because of the fact many things about this blog - me, the posts for the last four-ish years, the url itself - are Beasts related, I felt it was necessary to come and write an actual post here instead of just reblogging things and calling it a day. I’ve always been very outspoken online, but I’ve been avoiding a certain topic of conversation on this blog for years now, and I’m finally in a place where we can discuss it.

I am, of course, talking about the hot topic that is JK Rowling.

Back in the days between FBAWTFT and FBTCOG, I was a very outspoken defender of JK Rowling and her decision to defend Johnny Depp’s inclusion in the films. Now, this is something I still stand by to this day, and due to the evidence that has since come out, I’m even more steadfast in the opinion that keeping Depp was a great decision. I am fully in support of him and the way he’s currently battling against his abuser. But that’s not what I’m here to talk about right now. As I was saying, back in the day, I was outspoken about the opinion that “we don’t know the full story” etc., and as a result I received very colourful anon messages. Now, to my knowledge, none of these were about JKR being a TERF/transphone, but I think it’s important to mention that at the time I scoffed at the idea she could be one. I openly admit that I didn’t listen to what other people - including actual trans individuals - were saying about JKR and her transphobia because I frankly didn’t want to admit it. I didn’t want to admit that the person who wrote something that saved my life could be so hateful and a bad person - that, and at the time I passed it all off as “wokeness out of control”.

It is now 2020. Up until last Saturday night, I was still in support of JK Rowling - I didn’t agree with some of the stuff she had said, but I was trying to be positive and have hope by telling myself that she didn’t mean to be transphobic, that she just didn’t know what she was doing was wrong, even though the evidence clearly showed otherwise (I.e. her liking transphobic / radfem tweets). I said to my followers on my Beasts page that instead of cancelling people outright, we should be attempting to educate them instead, and if they choose not to learn then fine. And, being 100% obvious, I didn’t want to admit it because I frankly already was feeling annoyed at two different Beasts cast members for different reasons: Ezra Miller (for choking a girl) and Dan Fogler (for his tweet about BLM - admittedly that was probably him being well intentioned but not saying it right). So yeah, I didn’t want to cancel another member of the Beasts “family”.

I had JKR’s tweets on notifications, and for the most part over the last few weeks, it was all about the Ickabog. However, on Saturday night I noticed that she had suddenly tweeted something completely different, and I looked at it. Given that I had adamantly defended her and said “freedom of speech” for so long, it’s telling that my first thought upon seeing her tweet was literally “for fuck sake, Jo, why”.

I won’t post her tweets here but to sum that first tweet up, it was her being annoyed over the term “people who menstruate” being used in an article instead of “woman”, and mockingly saying “there used to be a word for that” before pretending she didn’t know the word. She knew that tweeting it would start arguments and anger, and yet she still made the decision to do so. Her follow up tweets frankly dug the hole deeper; she tried to defend herself by saying, to sum it up, “I have a butch lesbian friend who agrees with me” “I just care about women’s rights!” And “IF trans people were marginalised I’d march with you!” (“If”, of course, being the real kicker here because what do you mean IF. They ARE. Every DAY.)

Since then, JKR has written an essay on her website defending herself and her opinions, and yes, I read it. I read it a few times, in fact. At first, I felt my anger simmer and felt I had been too hasty to make anti JKR jokes, that I was wrong...but then I read it again properly and realised that what she had written was a piece that turned herself into the victim, and that despite putting on the appearance of her saying she supports trans people, including the phrases “I support trans people” and “of course trans women are real women”, she still spewed much transphobic vitriol and hate. She cited no sources for any of her proclamations or statements about statistics, implied that trans men transition to escape their “womanhood”, that trans women are men in dresses, that trans women are dangerous to “real” women (aka cis women) and shouldn’t be allowed into women’s changing rooms or toilets. There was also the autism comment, and the implication of autistic girls somehow not being able to make decisions or whatever.

I’m going to get straight to the point: I don’t support JK Rowling or her radical feminism.

As someone who is a proud feminist (libfem?), I can honestly say that never have I felt threatened or like I was being silenced by the inclusion of trans women in feminist spaces or conversation. Never. In my second year at sixth form, I was in charge of the LGBTQ+ club until a new leader with better leadership skills could step in, and - put simply - that year, the club was made almost entirely of first year transgender students. Even though I had called myself a trans ally for years, I realised there was a lot I didn’t know, and I learnt quite a lot from these students. I continue to still learn today. They were some of the nicest and most intelligent people I got the chance to meet, and I can truly say that at no point was I ever worried to be in a room alone with a trans woman, nor was I concerned about which bathroom they went in - bathrooms are bathrooms. Speaking of bathrooms...when I was at uni during a particularly tense rehearsal a few weeks before our final show last year, a guy in our group made me cry and I ran to the women’s bathroom to escape. Not only did the other girls come to comfort me, but you know what? The guy came in and apologised profusely to me. Did any of us girls give a shit about having a guy in our toilet? Absolutely not. It’s a fucking toilet. And, on that note, I was never worried about a trans woman or even a cis man attacking me in the toilets. You know who DID attack me in the toilets regularly? Other cisgender women.

As a feminist, I fully support trans women and am not threatened by the inclusion of trans women in women’s spaces or in women’s rights discussions. While I agree that cis women and trans women inevitably go through different struggles, at the end of the day, we all identify as women and are women. I think that if your feminism is so threatened by the existence of trans women - TERFs, RadFems, JKR, looking at you - then your feminism is flimsy and not feminism at all.

As a woman, I find it highly offensive that JKR and many RadFems focus so much of womanhood and feminism on an involuntary biological function that, frankly, many of us would rather do without. Yeah, I’m talking about periods - no matter how proud I am to be a woman, I still fucking hate periods and would get rid of mine if I could without erasing my chance of having kids someday. I can hear the RadFems accusing me of “internalised woman hatred” for saying I hate my periods, but you know what, they suck and they hurt and fuck them. The fact that JKR (also the the radfem movement) reduced “women” to just people who menstruate and can have children, and vice versa, is incredibly offensive and misogynistic. For a start, trans men menstruate, intersex people can, non binary can etc. Next, not even ALL cis women have periods - women who are menopausal, young women who haven’t started puberty yet (some do start very late), some women don’t have regular cycles, some women have medical problems that affect their cycle, some women are on birth control that can stop their cycles. So the idea of women being defined as “those who menstruate” is offensive not only to trans/intersex/non binary individuals but also to cis ones too.

As I write this, I’m a 22 year old woman who is still learning and changing every day, and one of the things that I’ve found myself thinking about recently - especially since we’re in lockdown and we have nothing BUT time to think - is about myself and my identity as a woman. What prompted this was when I saw Greta Gerwig’s adaptation of Louisa May Alcott’s beloved book, “Little Women”, which I’ve since read, for my birthday back in January, and I left the cinema feeling exalted and powerful with my own identity as a woman. (I’ll be returning to LW in a bit)

After some thinking, I’ve realised some things. For me, my identity as a woman is not just because once a month my uterus decides to shed; I do not identify as a woman just because I have certain physical features. I am not a particularly feminine person either, and I’m what some may call a “tomboy” (a phrase I actually don’t mind but I know a lot of people do for understandable reasons since it’s a phrase designed to differentiate people who don’t conform to society’s expectations etc) because I prefer video games and more geeky stuff to shopping or dressing up or make up.

For me, there is no one way a person has to be or appear in order to identify as a woman. Women are beautiful, complex human beings; we are not defined by our genitalia, by an involuntary biological process. Women are strong, intelligent, and interesting people - no two are the same. For example, some decide to raise families, some choose to pursue a career, some do both - all of these are valid and none are more “feminist” or “womanly” than the others, because it’s our as women. I guarantee that if you lined up every single woman in the world - cis AND trans - no two would be the exact same.

I mentioned “Little Women” earlier, and as I was pondering over what makes me identify as a “woman”, I thought a lot about a certain quote from the 2019 film that has stayed with me since it was first said in the release of the trailer. It’s spoken by Jo March to her mother, and I’ve started to understand what for me makes me a woman.

For me, being a woman is all of this: having minds, hearts, souls, ambition, talent, and being beautiful each in our own ways. Women are capable of love and empathy, capable of desire, capable of the most complex and human feelings and emotions, and coming out the stronger for it.

Sex is one thing; gender identity is another.

I won’t dissect every single thing JKR wrote in her essay, but I will just say this: her comments regarding autistic girls are extremely tone deaf and she does not speak for those with autism. I’m going to be honest and admit something here I haven’t before: I have not been diagnosed with autism or aspergers but I AM currently on the waiting list to see someone who COULD diagnose me. Apparently I show signs of a potential diagnosis, so...we’ll have to see. But I have friends who are autistic, and they’re disgusted by JKR trying to use them to support her TERF arguments. Autistic and other neurodivergent people are absolutely capable of making decisions and are NOT people who need to be babied or have their hands held, to be told who they are. It’s incredibly ableist of JK Rowling frankly.

I would also like to point out... I’ve seen people saying “but she doesn’t hate autistic people, Newt is autistic!!!” - yes, but JKR didn’t write him as autistic. Eddie Redmayne chose to play Newt as autistic - JK Rowling didn’t do shit.

It’s also time that I acknowledge that both Potter and Beasts inevitably hold JKR’s problematic views, and that by denying her ownership of her work, we’re not holding her accountable for the horrible things she’s done. This includes - but is not limited to -:

Anti-Semitic stereotypes in the goblins

Lycanthropy being used as a metaphor for AIDS - an illness that is heavily associated to the gay community, and also there was the panic of the AIDs crisis in the 90s where much misinformation and homophobia was generated and spread because of it.

Adding further to the lycanthropy point, one of the infected individuals - Greyback - is stated to have a sick preference for infecting children. Not only are werewolves tied to harmful gay/AIDs stereotypes, but also to the disgusting and frankly wrong notion that gay people are pedophiles.

The only Asian character is called Cho Chang. Cho Chang. That’s two steps away from outright just calling her “Ching Chong”. It’s not a name an actual Asian person would have.

The Goldstein sisters are probably distantly related to Anthony Goldstein, who JKR confirmed (on Twitter of course) is Jewish, meaning that Tina and Queenie are most likely Jewish too (and Goldstein is a Jewish surname). However, despite the fact that the first FBaWTFT is set DURING Hanukkah in 1926, there’s zero signs of them celebrating or observing it. Maybe that’s more on set design than anything else, but come on - if I, a fanfic writer, can do some research, JK/the crew of a major movie can too!

Adding on from that, gotta love how one of the JEWISH main characters then decides to join the Wizarding world equivalent of Hitler. I already had problems with Queenie’s characterisation in CoG, but that’s the icing on the cake.

POC/Black characters - in both series but since I’m a Beasts blog... Seraphina Picquery, a Black female president serving a term during a MAJOR wizarding world crisis, is severely reduced to have only 3 lines in CoG. Nagini’s only purpose is to be the only friend of Credence, a white man, before he joins Wizard Hitler and abandons her; she’s also an Asian character who we know one day permanently becomes a SNAKE, and who goes on to actually have a piece of Voldemort’s soul inside of her?? And some do see her as his slave, though you could argue that she’s actually the only being that he holds any love or respect for. Leta Lestrange is a half-black woman who is killed/literally sacrifices herself for TWO WHITE MEN, and who’s death was literally confirmed to have been added in last minute.

Also, the whole Lestrange storyline was fucking nasty: white Lestrange Sr imperius-ed a black woman (Yusuf Kama’s mother), raped her, and she then died in childbirth. I’m sorry, what the fuck??

In Harry Potter, Seamus is a terrible stereotype of an Irish person - he likes to blow things up. Look up the IRA and their bombings. Fucking Irish stereotype. As someone with Irish grandparents and who is proud of their Irish heritage, this really pisses me off.

Let’s not forget the whole Native American cultural appropriation. That truly speaks for itself.

So here is where I speak candidly to everyone who follows me and/or sees this post. While Beasts is no longer my No. 1 fandom these days, it and Potter still hold a huge piece of my heart. I have 5 wizarding world tattoos, so much merchandise, and I can safely say that being a fan of both series has shaped me as a person. Both of those series helped me get through the darkest days of my life, including bullying at school, my Nan passing away, and my mental health struggles.

This is why what’s happened has impacted me so much and broken my heart. For me, it feels like it’s tainted now because of Jo and her views. I know that we should separate the art from the artist, but when her views are so clearly woven into the very fabric of the Wizarding world, it’s a huge problem.

Here’s another part of the dilemma - I do not wish for the Beasts films to be cancelled. I’m well aware that the *cough* people who dislike me will say I’m trying to be negative, trying to boycott the series blah blah blah, but that’s truly the last thing I want. I still love the story, the characters, the soundtrack, and I want to know how it ends, if only for my own piece of mind. It’s also important to add that by boycotting Beasts, it’s also harming the hard working thousands of others who worked on the films: the cast, the crew, the extras, the musicians, etc., not to mention the fans who actually are invested in the series and have taken solace in it. It’s not fair for them to all suffer over the actions of one TERF.

This is one of my biggest worries, however: the Fantastic Beasts films do NOT have a good reputation as it is. The second film was boycotted by some due to Depp, and now there’s talk of people boycotting number 3 because of JK Rowling. Lots of people already talk hatred about it, and this will only fire that hatred up even more.

There’s also talk of Eddie Redmayne potentially being kicked from the franchise due to a “leak” that he doesn’t want to work with JKR anymore, but this could be sensationalist news reporting. But if it came down to it, I can honestly say that I would rather continue to have Eddie play Newt than keep JKR as a writer. Eddie has done more for Newt than even JKR has, and if he goes, then that will be the last straw for me within the fandom. That will be when I take a sharp exit out, sell my FB merch and have my tattoos covered.

To add, the Fantastic Beasts scripts are...not great. Or, at least, what we saw on-screen wasn’t. Maybe that’s David Yates being the literal worst (fuck you, Yates, you suck) and cutting all the parts with strong female characters, but I honestly don’t think that JKR can write screenplays well at all. I think she’s clearly better at writing books, and that’s fine - books obviously allow for more time to explore characters and story/plot arcs etc, and film scripts offer way less of those chances. I don’t think screenplays allow her to write what she needs to in order to tell the story she wants to, hence why CoG was kind of a hot mess. So maybe it’s just that she’s not suited for screenplays and should stick to books.

Honestly, I kind of just wish that WB would hire another person to finish writing the Fantastic Beasts movies - obviously they’d have to keep JKR on board to tell them the actual plot, but get someone who can actually write screenplays and not be problematic to write them.

By now I’ve gone on long enough that I’ve forgotten my original intent while writing this, so I’ll try to sum up and end now. In short, I am extremely disappointed in JK Rowling and do not support her or her views any longer.

I don’t know how any of you guys are feeling but I would be interested to hear other people’s thoughts, especially other Fantastic Beasts fans. I want to also add that, as always, my DMs and inbox are always open - if not here, then always at @alwaysahiccupandastrid where I’m more active nowadays.

Finally, you guys don’t need me - a white cis woman - to tell you this but you’re all valid and magical and fuck JK Rowling. Her characters would all be ashamed of her, and the characters we grew up with would not stand for the bigotry and vile hatred she spreads under the guise of ““protecting women””. Several of the amazing actors from Potter and Beasts have spoken out against her and her tweets: Daniel Radcliffe, Emma Watson, Bonnie Wright, Katie Leung, Chris Rankin, Eddie Redmayne. Some have been...less inspiring (Tom Felton, Evanna Lynch, looking at you two 👀)

I’m sending love to everyone right now. I wish I could say something more useful but I’ve spoken enough - I’ve made my opinion clear. I love you all, please stay safe.