#but that alone caused the humiliation that trans people face after they transition

[greybrains]

real talk: gotta murder people who unironically think trans people are their assigned sex esp. when they engage with misgen detrans kink shit because they're too fukin dumb to figure out it's play pretend extremist horror and not real. it's an optional brain worm drainage system for people that your system has destroyed. it's humiliation based torture, like sissification in prison. humiliation kinks are kinks.

quit overstepping your place n shit

[citruscisco2]

You. Are. A. Man!

Five Hargreevs x Trans!Male Reader

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

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

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

Requested: Yes by @rainbow-depresso-expresso​

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

                                                         ⁂

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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