#having long hair with the way i present constantly gets me misgendered

[obsessivevoidkitten]

The Deer's Prince(ss)

Male Deertaur Yandere x Feminized Male Wolf Hybrid Reader (CW: Noncon, feminization, misgendering, inhuman genitalia, breeding, fingering, overstimulation, reader fucked out of their mind, chasing, kidnapping, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 1.1k

You were sprinting through the forest, running from the prince who owned you.

Under normal circumstances, you would have been able to move a lot more stealthily and gracefully, but continued captivity had dulled your senses and abilities.

When the kingdom of the deertaurs finally won the decades long war against the wolf folk they demanded many things in the treaty to end the war.

One of the things they demanded was a princess to marry their son, marriage was a typical way to seal an agreement of peace.

But there was no princess, instead they took you. And Prince Inthil had made you into his princess. Treating you like a dainty flower instead of the proud wolf hybrid that you were! Going so far as to even dress you in frilly dresses and address as a girl… and bed you as one too…

Having had as much as you could handle you fled. You tore off the female clothing and ran naked into the woods. Treaty be damned, you didn’t deserve this!

But being pampered as a fragile little lady had made your footfalls heavy and clumsy, it may have been enough to outrun a human, but certainly not Prince Inthil. His deceptively lean body was fast and powerful, four legs carrying him like he was the wind itself.

Suddenly you felt a sharp yank on your arm. You shuddered as Inthil pulled you close, you had thought you were still a bit ahead of the deer man.

His creepy grin looked even more sinister under the light of the moon, his long blond hair softly glowing, and his eyes looking at you with twisted adoration and amusement.

If you had only been looking at his face you may have mistaken him for a beautiful woman. But his muscles, body hair on his human half, and antlers on his head proved otherwise.

“Hello my lady~ You mustn’t run off like that, it is far too dangerous for a little girly to be running around in the woods at night by herself! If you wanted a moonlit stroll, I would have accompanied you~”

You tried to wriggle out of his grasp but he was powerful. He lifted you up and pressed you against a tree.

“If my father knew my wife ran off like that it could start a war! Don’t worry princess, I won’t tell. After all, I am sure it just slipped your mind to ask me to come with you, RIGHT?!”

As he said that last word he roughly pulled you forward then slammed you back against the rough bark. It did not hurt much, but you gasped in surprised.

Prince Inthil took this opportunity and kissed you deeply. Hungrily. His tongue swirling around yours as it invaded your mouth.

You shivered. He finally broke the kiss, leaving you both panting for oxygen.

“Are you cold? You’re shaking so much. I know what will warm you up.”

He stroked your cheek tenderly, but you knew what that look and tone of voice meant.

You growled, baring your teeth as your tail bristled and your ears moved back, almost flat, against your head.

“Awe, I bet a nice breeding will help your sour mood too…”

There were no clothes for him to pull off of you this time. He laid you down on the cool forest floor. You started to move but he stomped a hoof on you with enough force for you to get the memo.

You did what was expected of you. Keeping your face down you arched your ass up.

“My bitch must be in heat to present her pussy so nicely for me~” He cooed in his sickeningly sweet voice.

You were sniffing as tears rolled down your face uncontrollably. You were a man and you didn’t want this, what had you ever done to anyone to deserve being forced to be a girl and raped constantly.

“Don’t cry my love. I always make love with you gently, I know how delicate you are~”

You didn’t care how gentle he was, it was still against your will and sometimes forced with a bit of pain. Like just now when he had stomped his hoof on you.

You could feel his slimy cock rubbing up against your hole, eager to slide into you, but he made himself resist the lure of your insides for a moment while he prepped you.

He did this by using the tip of his prick to massage your entrance, and lather it in precum.

Then he slowly, bit by bit, slid into your ass. He gasped as he entered you.

“G-gods princess , your cunt is amazing~”

You just fit him so well, it was like sliding into a warm glove made specifically for his 10in cock.

He was large and powerful, and like always he had to resist just pounding into you with reckless abandon. It took all his power not to.

But he had to make sure you were treated like the frail lady that you were, it wouldn’t do for him to harm a princess, it would be unthinkable.

So instead he savored it, and eventually his careful ministrations were met with your beautiful little whimpers and moans of pleasure.

You always tried to stifle them away from him, but you never managed to.

His cock was kissing your walls so tenderly, touching that spot inside you that he always seemed to find.

Prince Inthil managed to coax several orgasms out of you, making you pant and gasp with each thrust into your overstimulated body. You couldn’t help humping into your hand, desperately seeking another release as his balls finally emptied into you.

“You make such lovely sounds when we make love~”

He picked up your cum leaking body and held you close, you were so fucked out that you couldn’t do anything, your arms were like jelly from being in that pose for so long.

You muttered something incomprehensible and went limp as he put you over his shoulders. He chose to interpret the noises as a declaration of love.

“Awe, I love you too. I knew all you needed was a good breeding~”

The prince kissed the top of your head softly before smiling to himself. He just had the most wonderful idea. He’d quite like to hear those cute sounds of yours on the way home.

As he slowly hauled you back home he slid a couple fingers into your cum-lubed ass, eliciting more of those cute little gasps and moans, albeit tired and weaker ones, from your pretty mouth.

“Don’t worry darling, when we get back we can mate some more before I clean you up."

[foxboyclit]

im coming up on my 2 year t-aversarry so here's some assorted feelings on that (put under a cut because i didnt expect it to get this long oops)

first off, im hoping i don't get sick again so i can actually have a tea party to celebrate. even if its a little after the actual date i wanna do something

it looks like i cant grow anything more than some light whiskers but i never wanted a huge lumberjack beard anyway and i still get to shave regularly which is very euphoric. im a little disappointed though because ive always wanted a full beard

body hairs been really good though! its filled out nicely on my arms and legs and i have a full happy trail i am so so happy about that

my doctor said she noticed my shoulders had gotten more broad, which ive heard wasn't possible but apparently it is! and i see it myself too. she said i have more of an inverted triangle shape now, and it makes sense because ive noticed my hips shrink significantly. now apparently i wasn't very curvy to begin with but dysphoria makes me see things that aren't as prominent i guess

its also almost a year since my period stopped and i feel so much better having my emotions and energy levels at a constant state. i never have to think about whether i forgot to bring pads i haven't had cramps in MONTHS it's wonderful. i will say, ive noticed cis women are more comfortable talking about their periods around me and it's a mixed bag of emotions. im glad i give off that vibe that it's okay to talk about it but i feel bad saying "yeah im glad mine stopped" or "this is what i used to go through" which is the most i can relate to now so im kind of...sad? to not be able to talk about it? but also when i did menstruate i hated talking about it to anyone other than like. two specific people. idk

my voice is leveling out more, it still cracks but not as much as it did i feel like just a few months ago? still not where i want it but im getting closer and i love when my voice cooperates and is deeper without those cracks. ive gotten compliments on my voice too when i use my lower register! idk if the majority of people read it as masculine or even androgynous but i like compliments

still getting constantly misgendered, no matter what im wearing but im used to it. at least all my family, friends and coworkers respect my pronouns

ive been dressing a lot more feminine than i anticipated. but im having fun with it! its okay if im actually more feminine presenting than fluid like i previously thought. but also i could have another big swing in the opposite direction. i feel comfortable and stylish either way so im welcoming whatever changes

the gender fuckery of facial hair, flat chest and skirt has been *chefs kiss*

my t levels are on par with cis men! just knowing that makes me smile. estrogen is still high but it wasnt a concern with the doctor so im mostly okay with it

my libidos leveled out nicely, it's still a lot higher than before t but its not as intense as when i first started. adjusting to it has been pretty easy and im happy with where it currently sits.

body acne has mostly gone away! and i haven't had any massive breakouts or changes in my skin!

i swear to god i went down at least a cup size. its been waiting for the right time to pursue top surgery a hell of a lot easier. i always felt like if i had a smaller chest i wouldnt necessarily need top surgery, and i still want it but im more content with my chest now

i think all in all ive had to adjust my expectations for how id look by now, maybe its the dosage or genetics or aforementioned high estrogen or it just hasn't been long enough but i always expected to look more masculine this far in. it's still something i have to deal with from time to time but ultimately im happy with my body and im more okay taking this slowly than i anticipated

i dont have a conclusion for this other than wow. testosterone is one hell of a drug

[bigendering]

Pronouns and dysphoria

At this point I've been out as bigender for a long time. Almost eight years. During a lot of those, the last few especially, I've been pretty isolated, with most of my interactions being online, in very inclusive spaces. I also physically transitioned via hrt to the point that my voice at least is androgynous, leaning masculine. Add very curly short-ish lopsided hair, and I can usually get gendered as male or female whenever I want, depending on how I dress.

The result is, the vast majority of the time, I'm gendered correctly. My friends all use my preferred pronouns, the communities I spend a lot of time in use my preferred pronouns, and elsewhere on the internet I'm either not gendered or gendered arbitrarily, since I'm just a talking username. The last place I lived, everyone was trans and used my preferred pronouns, and now that I live with my partner, I'm still always gendered correctly at home. Out in the wild, people gender me as male and female depending on my presentation. Often I'll get both in one day. Since I'm m/f bigender, this gives me a lot of gender euphoria. I don't mind being perceived as one or the other as long as it averages out. Not everyone is like that, but apparently I am.

So I've become a lot more chill with pronouns now. Now that I'm not constantly being misgendered (as one gender rather than the other), I don't have a lot of dysphoria. The years-long break from dysphoria has allowed me to build up resilience to being misgendered, so even if someone does misgender me or perceive me in a way that makes me dysphoric, I can get over it quickly. It's more of a passing thing, rather than a week-ruining calamity. I still have dysphoria about other things - I very rarely present in public without binding - but much less.

Mostly I use any pronouns now. Not officially, but I just kinda let people gender me however they want, if they're not being an ass about it. I don't specify my pronouns in online spaces, so if someone does use other ones accidentally or because they forgot, they don't have to worry about having misgendered me.

I've also been thinking about using se/er pronouns. When I first came out as bigender, I didn't realize I was plural, so I was all mixed up with two other masculine alters. Together, especially with me as the main fronter, we're pretty balanced, but on my own I lean a lot more fem(me). My masculine gender is still a very important part of my identity, and while I identify as femme and feminine, female is not one of my genders. So she/her isn't the best set for me, but something adjacent, like femme is to female, makes a lot of sense. So I might start using se/er. We'll see.

Sapphire

[genderqueerdykes]

Hello, I was wondering if I capfuls get few words of encouragement? Lately I’ve been struggling with wether or not I want to go on T or get top surgery. It took me a really long time to realize I’m trans mainly because I’m somewhat comfortable with presenting fem and am into “girly” things. I just really hate having to go through the world being constantly misgendered and for people on the outside to only ever see me as a girl. Even friends I’ve come out to slip up and use they/them pronouns with me even though I only use he/him because they have trouble actually seeing me as a man. I’m also frustrated because I actually DO want to start t for the bottom growth and facial hair, but I’m a singer and I’m terrified of my singing voice changing. No other side effect really bothers me except that one and honestly it would be really cool if my speaking voice was deeper since I have an extremely high pitched voice. Anyways all of these things have been causing me pretty bad dysphoria lately. I really appreciate your blog. Going through it and reading all of the asks from different queer people expressing their own struggles and experiences has helped me feel less alone.

i'm really glad to hear you feel less alone in your experience!

i really get what you're saying. getting misgendered all the time is so painful, especially if you're a fem trans man. it took me years to come back to being feminine, i had to transition socially so hard that i became "just some guy" and i really couldn't stand it because sure, i was passing as a guy, but i wasn't me.

it's hard to be a feminine trans man in the climate we live in currently, it's okay to be a "girly" dude, even if you're trans. i also understand not wanting your singing voice to change, i've gotten a lot of asks from trans guys about singing voice changes and it's important to a lot of us, myself included! i think you will be able to adapt to the changes in your voice, for a lot of trans men, the changes aren't so drastic that they can't find a familiar footing. it'll be okay, if you choose to take that route

i'm sorry that not being seen as who you are by other people is so damn hard, it really makes it so hard to want to even try to be yourself, because it's such a fight. the right people will see you for who you are. the right people will call you the right name and pronouns, no matter how you dress, look or act. the right people will love you for who you are, not who they want you to be.

i hope you're able to find a place where you can feel a bit less defeated. i get where you're at. i hope you're able to take some time to be a guy in your personal spare time away from judging eyes and just enjoy who you are. even if you have to go out of your way to aggressively gender yourself correctly, do it. if you have to look in the mirror and say "wow, what a handsome boy!", do it. if you have to make an account for a website under a new name and just be someone else, do it. whatever you have to do to feel like yourself. learn to love yourself first. learn to be comfortable being yourself for YOU first. then learn how to be yourself for other people

take care, i hope you're able to work through things. i know what it's like, if you need any more help feel free to come back! we're cheering for you =)

[underwhelmedandoverstimulated]

As someone who has spent most of their life some form of androgynous, I had the interesting experience of looking in the mirror last night and suddenly I am just so much gender, and it honestly isn't the one I thought I'd be presenting if I ever did go one way or the other.

I honestly don't know how I feel about it. Like, honestly I have felt good about my body for the first time in a long time, and I actually like what my face is doing right now (which I've never really been happy with). Idk, I guess I'd hoped I'd be in a place in my life by now that I'd be able to more so express myself the way I want, and the juxtaposition of having the opposite of that, having all my "girl clothes" collecting dust in my closet because I'm never in any situation where I'd even feel safe wearing them, cutting all my hair off because I needed to get a job, and then actually liking how I look like this is getting to me.

It's just really weird for this to be happening right at the same time I'm questioning my pronouns. Like, I guess due to my natural androgyny, I've always been kinda lazy about gender. I've been constantly misgendered since I was like 8, so I was always just "call me whatever it doesn't matter." Here I am looking they/them since highschool, and the moment I start thinking about if I would feel better with a preferred pronoun, I'm suddenly Very Gender.

[maxellminidisc]

Lately when I look at pictures of myself from the last couple of years I legit feel like that is not me. Like there is a disconnect there now that is so baffling sometimes. I look at that person and I go "Ok she's pretty but that's not me right?" Like I think about how feminine I used to be and like I use to do it for no discernible reason other than "this is what is expected of me and I dont wanna deal with hearing shit if I dont". Which is also wild because weirdly being feminine made me take care of myself in a way that made it feel like an obligation where as now I have the hardest time doing so because I have just lost touch with any reason to because of my depression and my weird dysphoria I guess youd call it?

Like my dream is to just exist in this body without having to transition (which I don't want to most of the time because its a process I think would complicate my life a lot further due to personal reasons) and without having to apply myself to these ideas of what is "passing" or even an indicator that I'm making an "effort" to be masculine so people can respect that I am a bigender masc. Like I just want to be loved while having that respected and be in a relationship that does it's best to foster my identity as a bigender man. I feel like lately I'm just so unhappy in my body not because I actually dislike it (I'm actually pretty happy with my body and my face without makeup) but because I know that even within my community, people expect a certain like look to be nb/trans. I constantly get misgendered by other nb people because I dont look masc enough for them or like your typical skinny white nb and sometimes people say pretty like gender essentialist shit about men to me thinking I'll be ok with it because I'm ok with she/her pronouns.

Idk I'm just very tired and part of me really misses being romantically loved but part of me is so scared of it because of all this too. Like how am I supposed to be comfortable in a relationship where partnership and communication is important but I cant even sort this shit out for myself yah know?

[lizardrosen]

more about nonbinary edgar

a followup to this post and this fic. Many thanks to @all-mimsy for being a creative partner, and to @butchhamlet, without whose trans Edmund post I would never have thought of nonbinary Edgar.

I’m using he/him pronouns for this post for a couple reasons. Edgar’s just starting to figure himself out and takes a while to figure out who he is and what he wants, and then even after he figures himself out, pronouns simply aren’t that important to him. He’s not like Edmund; he doesn’t need to be acknowledged by a world trying to bar his path, so gender is more about realigning himself with his inner world.

Edmund Does Not Understand this approach at all so it’s just one more missed connection. However Edgar understands Edmund’s need to Prove Himself, on an intellectual level if not a personal level.

When they were kids Edgar used to brush and braid Edmund’s hair all the time, and he was really good at it. Edmund liked the feeling of being cared for, but mostly he wanted it close to his head and out of his face so he didn’t have to think about it for a while. Then Edmund transitioned and Edgar was a little upset and jealous that he cut off his long beautiful hair, and he missed the bonding activity but he also missed the feeling of playing with long hair, and it took him a while to realize that he had been living vicariously through Edmund and was halfway thinking about growing his own hair long.

Edmund was so much happier and more genuine after his transition, and Edgar was jealous and happy about that too. He was always supportive and corrected their father when he misgendered Edmund, but of course Edmund got bristly and mean when Edgar asked too many sincere-but-intrusive questions.

Lots of sibling feelings about presentation and societal roles and things they were born to but don’t have to keep. The way Edgar gets to have everything without even trying and Edmund doesn’t even consider that maybe Edgar doesn’t want it. The way Edgar feels all anyone has to say about him is “legitimate” and “male” because he’s just there, while Edmund gets to be smart and handsome and charming and well-spoken.

When Edgar asks Edmund how he knew he was a boy, because he’s trying to figure out why he sometimes feels like he’s not one, he’s still just one big question mark, there’s nothing definite for him to attach his gender feelings to, making him doubt himself constantly. But he’s certain that he’s not a girl, even if he knows nothing else, and that helps him not feel entirely adrift.

Even though Gloucester isn't great at accepting Edmund as he is, Edgar still gets the feeling that he's glad to finally have a son who's better at BEING a son than Edgar is, and if he ever said that he thinks maybe he's NOT a son, Gloucester wouldn't take it kindly, so he just makes an effort not to think about it in his presence, so sure he can see it on his face.

So when Edmund tells him he has to run, his first thought after "some villain hath done me wrong" is "he found out" even though he doesn't even know for sure what exactly this nebulous truth about him is. His third thought is "Did Edmund tell? He wouldn't have, would he?"

(But he’s right. Edmund is a real piece of work, and if he had some sort of secret that would get Edgar disowned he probably would tell, but he draws the line at outing someone. He doesn’t even think of it until later, coming off the high of Cornwall telling him “you shall be ours” and then he hates himself for thinking of it at all. He also hates himself for not thinking of it sooner because clearly he wasn’t ruthless enough. Edmund, please.)

When he’s begging for alms he sees a pretty patterned skirt barely hanging onto a laundry line. After the people inside refuse to give him any food he takes the skirt to blanket his loins, getting rid of the pants that were getting ragged and grimy anyway. It’s a relief. He didn’t know that movement could feel like this.

Edgar’s not a man any more than he is a madman, or a man from Dover, or any of a half-dozen other costumes he’s donned and doffed since his exile began. It’s just a game everyone’s agreed to play, only now  he’s discovered he doesn’t have to play, or at least not by the same rules, and anything he does choose can be as lasting or as temporary as he wishes.

This all gets even more interesting if it’s one of the productions where Kent is played by a woman. Even if the role of Caius allows her to let out some of the impulsive violence and bluntness she couldn’t enact as a Lady and a Countess, the maleness really is just part of her disguise, not her testing out being trans.

Edgar might vaguely perceive that Caius is afab, because he’s been peeling back the wallpaper of the world and can see things he didn’t know before, but between Edmund’s transition and his own newfound discovery that it’s all about costumes he doesn’t jump to assuming that Caius is a woman, but just accepts him as presented.

Maybe the Fool is also fucking around with gender and presentation, because the world is falling apart around their ears, and no one expects a Fool to adhere to tradition. Maybe they can be doublecast with Cordelia!

Feste-like, the Fool alludes to the gender situation of Edgar and Kent. Kent gets scared because that’s one step closer to revealing the treason of staying in the country after her banishment, but Edgar can’t help smiling a bit because he’s come so far from where he started, and he understands, a bit, why Edmund wants so badly to be Seen.

Kent survives after the end of the play because I say so, and becomes a mentor figure for Edgar, and is the first person he really talks to about gender stuff, after Edmund.

And Edgar starts to grow out his hair! Not super long, but long enough to braid. It raises a few eyebrows, but Edgar Does Not Care anymore what people think of him.

[iapetusneume]

I really resonated with a lot from the other post talking about misgendering cis people. But because there is a bit of difference between Black and Brown women and me, it didn't feel right to add my thoughts on in the tags.

I had very short hair in elementary school. It was my personal choice, which my mother supported even though she definitely wished my hair was longer. But we didn't know how to properly care for curly hair and I hated tangles and I was a kid, so I kept it short.

I was constantly misgendered at that age by people who didn't know me. When they were adults, they would correct themselves, but many would also make comments about how I should grow out my hair. Sometimes it was from a place of wanting to see long curly hair, but it was also from thinking I wasn't feminine enough.

I was constantly misgendered by my bullies. They would say "are you a boy or girl??" Or just call me a boy outright. I was punished for wearing dresses or skirts because they would day "I'm a boy in a dress," and I was punished for wearing any kind of shirt that might remotely be seen as masculine. Looking androgynous would get the either/or question.

I used to wear this Bart Simpson sweater, until I was misgendered in a assembly in front of the whole school. That was done on accident by the well-meaning presenter, when I raised my hand to volunteer. I never wore that sweater again.

I am also fat. There's a lot of masculinazation that comes with fatness. I feel as if I'm not performing femininity at 100%, I'm going to be misgendered. And the pain from childhood hasn't gone away. I'm lucky enough that almost all of the misgendering has been accidental, but its an old would that still aches.

Its made gender identity difficult to figure out, especially whenever there are things I'd like that are coded masculine. For such a long time, I couldn't look at it properly, because of the pain.

And if we are talking about "things that spark joy," I have trouble articulating why 'she/her' pronouns sparks joy, but 'woman' does not. 'Woman' feels like something I need to hold onto for practical reasons, like how we need some dishes for everyday use, or a toolbox for repairs. Its not something I go to for joy, but utility.

I like plenty of feminine things, but I don't want to engage constantly in order to use the pronouns I want, and I resent that.

Which again, is why I didn't want to write onto that post. I may not know how to describe my gender identity, but I absolutely know I'm white. Even with similarities in the way masculinazation happens to fat people or LGBTQIA+, it isn't exactly the same thing.

[blue-pearl-lamentation]

y’know there’s a big thing that bugs me about non-lesbians who want to call themselves butch or femme. Or I mean tbh, they almost always want to take femme and not butch. It’s that there’s some personal investment I feel in identifying with butch and the cultural context of the identities. 

as a butch, and specifically at that a trans woman, I can often find myself questioning how much I’m being viewed as a woman by people. Not in the “will I be misgendered in public?” way, but in the “if I tell people I’m a woman, tell them I am not a man, would they really accept that?” Because I have very little interest in wearing clothes or presenting myself in any way that would be considered feminine aside from like, my long hair? Perhaps on occasion a light application of makeup? If I ever voice train I’d probably see my goal as being an androgynous sounding voice rather than wanting an unmistakably “feminine” voice. 

Femme/butch offers me something that nothing else really can. When you call yourself one you should (or you’re supposed to) have some sort of grasp on what these identities mean. You’re meant to understand them beyond an aesthetic, meant to understand that one does not exist without the other. In my view, a femme should be a person who understands butches and who sees me for what I am regardless of my physical appearance. Femmes and butches find comfort in one another and the ways we’ve concluded we see ourselves in our gender and the unique relation we have to womanhood. 

To see someone calling themselves femme, I should be able to feel safe around them. Even if they know very little about me on a personal level, they would know I’m a butch and carry the knowledge of what femmes and butches have meant to each other both in the past and in the present. I should feel as though I don’t need to justify why I’m a trans woman who isn’t trying to wear a dress or paint my nails, and that I don’t need to feel that ever-constant twinge of doubt in the back of my head saying that I’m being viewed as a man or, at least, some sort of not-man-but-not-woman in a person’s eyes. 

When these stop being identities with the history and culture behind them, and become aesthetics, I lose that. Barring of course transphobic lesbians, I no longer can know if a femme is someone who would understand me in a way other people won’t. To see “femme” can’t automatically mean “this person consciously makes space for butches, understands our lived experiences and can be trusted. They make a conscious effort to love and accept butches.” Over time it will continue to lose that for me, and instead grow to mean “They could be that, or maybe they’re one of the people who use it just to mean they present femininely. They may not know anything about the context behind the word they’re using.” 

It’s tiresome to have to constantly assert that femme/butch are intertwined identities with a history and context behind them. It’s tiresome because I have to watch people who will argue and ultimately refuse to understand this and take away one of the few things that I and others have to find comfort in our explorations and gender and sexuality. We’re individuals who searched for something, ultimately found “butch” or “femme” and felt they fit. That gets taken away, and instead I have to see people try to strip them of their meaning and make it about how you feel like wearing heels or if you prefer wearing a baggy shirt. To water these words down to some umbrella term that just sounds nice to call yourself is to harm those of us who find this little subculture to be one of the few things that bring us peace. 

[a-queer-seminarian]

tw misgendering rant

i feel really frustrated. there is someone at my church who had once made a lot of progress exclusively referring to me with they pronouns -- who suddenly has like, slid back into she pronouns?

and my brain goes haywire and immediately goes is it my fault?? is my presentation, what i’m wearing, how i’m speaking different than what it was when this person was getting it right? am i suddenly ~girlier~

and okay. One. i’m less “““girly”” than i’ve ever been -- my voice is lower than ever thanks to testosterone and i imagine it’s changed my face shape somewhat; my hair is still short; i’ve stopped wearing earrings and other jewelry i normally like to wear when on video calls with them....

but more importantly. Two. it wouldn’t matter if i’d suddenly started wearing lots of makeup and dresses when interacting with them, or grew out my hair, or if my voice were still high, any of it!! it’s not my fault that they’re....out of practice, or whatever is going on in their minds to make them keep messing up!

it’s on cis people to rewire their brains to not automatically associate certain things with certain genders. it’s on cis people to practice the proper pronouns for a person in their life on their own, to correct their own inner thoughts about the person so that the wrong pronouns will no longer “just slip out.”

so i am frustrated with this person, because it seems she’s not doing that work. and i know she’s got so many things on her plate, so many “causes” to focus on....but still. come on. this is a basic. bare minimum one. to do. especially for a leader at a vocally More Light church that wants to be inviting for trans folks.

but also i’m frustrated with myself because i’ve still got so much BS internalized in me that causes me to blame the trans person for "being too ___” or “not acting ___ enough.” and i need to get my brain to cut that out -- when it’s about me, and when it’s about others who are getting misgendered. hey at me stop victim blaming!! sheesh!!

i’m constantly thinking stuff like What do i need to do to get others to stop misgendering me? how do i need to alter my presentation and speech to make them see me as i want to be seen? i hate that because my “most authentic” presentation involves jewelry, and sometimes i like to wear skirts or dresses, and i am a very feminine person in the way the world labels such things! i hate that i feel like i have to suppress that to avoid being misgendered.

i’m also frustrated with myself for not being able to like, Just Talk to this person about it lol. because i know she’d be open to hearing it and trying to do better......But i just don’t have The Energy to deal with the long extended annoying apology that i feel like will happen. i just want to be able to interject “they” in the conversation and have her go “oh yes, sorry, they....” without it derailing the discussion, you feel? and bc i don’t think that’s how it will go i just can’t bring myself to say anything. i am just Too Tired for a Cis Apology / having to talk about misgendering at all to a cis person right now d;aglkdjgalklkj;l

....on a happier note, one of the people who never ever ever gendered me correctly in the past is suddenly doing pretty well about using they for me?? so good for her, that’s very nice!

at the same time, there is no work being done by these people, as far as i’m aware (maybe it’s happening in private, do give them the benefit of the doubt), to call each other out and correct each other’s misgendering. the one person emailed me “sorry about X’s use of she for you in the prayer” and i’m like. oh good you noticed! so are you gonna tell her about the issue or just tell me sorry when she’s not around?

i just. wish. churches and other communities that i know actually want to improve would actually......improve?

and it genuinely is less for my sake than for others. i hate that when i recommend this church to other trans and nonbinary folks, i cannot guarantee that they won’t be misgendered -- nor that if they are misgendered that the person will handle it well if they’re called out on it. i hate that. because sometimes i think this church is as good as it gets and if that’s true it just makes me really really sad.

so......does anyone have any stories about a faith community doing really well at this to cheer me up?? or any kind of community tbh.

[rushingheadlong]

You Could Know Me - A dad!Roger gen fic

Summary: You knew that coming out as non-binary wouldn’t always be smooth sailing, but you weren’t expecting to face rejection at every turn. Luckily your dad, Roger Taylor, is there to support you no matter what. 

Wordcount: ~2,800

Warnings: Transphobia and coming out, including being afraid of a parent’s reaction, though there is no transphobia from Roger. Given the subject matter there’s a heavy dose of H/C in this, but it has a very fluffy and happy ending.

Notes: Written for an anon request for Reader being present!Roger’s kid who comes out as non-binary, with everyone else being unaccepting and Roger being the best dad ever. Y/N is the notation for the Reader’s chosen name, and D/N is the notation for their deadname. I’ve left their parentage unspecified, so you can fill in the blanks as you please.

(Turns out, I have a soft spot for writing trans!Readers and once I started working on this I just couldn’t stop. I hope you like it, anon, because I loved writing it ♥)

“I just don’t, you know, get it,” your best friend says, and you feel that familiar pit in your stomach start to grow. “I mean, you’re either a boy or a girl, yeah? You can’t just make up other options.”

“I’m not making up- look, some people are born one thing but that’s not who they are-”

“Yeah, but you’re not telling me that you’re now the opposite gender, you’re trying to tell me that you’re… something else.”

You had explanations prepared before you started this conversation. You had memorized how you were going to define your non-binary identity, how you were going to debunk the idea of a gender binary, how you were going to explain the history of “they” as a single-person pronoun. Except you haven’t even gotten to the pronoun conversation yet, because despite all your preparations you weren’t expecting to be met with so much hostility from someone you had considered your closest friend. 

And now when you need them the most all of those explanations are gone. Your mind feels filled with static, anxiety ramping up into outright panic, and you shove your hands into your jacket pockets to hide how badly they’re shaking. “Listen, I don’t- if you don’t understand that’s fine-” It’s really not, though. “-but I just... I just want you to support me in this.”

Your friend sighs. It sounds annoyed, and your heart beats painfully fast in your chest. “Look, D/N…”

“It’s Y/N.” You had told her that at the beginning of the conversation. 

“Yeah, I’m probably not going to remember that.” She makes a show of glancing down at her phone, but you can see that the screen is black without any notifications. “Listen, I’ve gotta go. We’ll talk about this later, okay?”

It takes you a moment to find your voice, and by the time you finally say, “Okay,” she’s already walking away.

You stay where you are for several long minutes, blinking back tears and swallowing down anxiety and feeling so stupid for thinking that your friend would be any different than anyone else you’ve tried to come out to. 

Because you started with the LGBT+ group at your university, only to find that there were no other trans people there and the cis members looked at you with suspicion when you gave your pronouns. So instead you checked out a trans youth group in the city, which ended up being full of binary trans people making their way through a series of transitions that you’re not even sure if you want yet. 

You had gone to the student services office to see if you could get your name changed on your university paperwork and you were immediately dismissed. “Come back with proof of your legal name change, or an override letter from your advisor,” you were told. So you had gone to your advisor to plead your case and he had looked at you with pity, and recommended that you go to the health center to get resources to deal with your stress and “confusion”.

And you went to the health center, because maybe talking this over with a therapist would do you some good. But once you had said you were non-binary the therapist had started with a line questioning that you weren’t comfortable with: How’s your relationship with your parents? Did you have a difficult childhood? Do you feel unheard or unnoticed in your daily life?

You left her office with a second appointment made under your deadname that you don’t think you’ll be going to, and more confusion in your heart than when you first walked in. 

You sniffle a few times, and wipe at your eyes, and finally leave the place where you had met your friend. Ex-friend, now, probably, and fuck that’s not a thought you think you can handle right now. You don’t think you can handle much of anything at the moment, to be honest. Even simply being in public is making your skin crawl, and you hurry home as quickly as you can because at least there you’ll feel safe.

You throw your bag down on the floor and curl up in a ball on the couch, and everything just hits you at once. You start sobbing, remembering the look of disgust on your friend’s face, the way the therapist constantly misgendered you, the uncomfortable feeling of being both too trans and not trans enough depending on where you went, and having no idea how you’re supposed to navigate this confusing path when you’re so fucking alone. 

You just want someone, anyone to support you in this. You want someone to call you Y/N and “they” without stumbling over name or pronoun. You want that so badly that the wish feels like a physical ache in your chest. Hell, you’d even take the mistakes, you’d take the slip-ups, you’d take the accidental misgendering and deadnaming as long as it was accidental. As long as it meant that someone cared enough to make the effort to try. 

You’re crying so hard that you don’t hear the door open or the quiet footsteps that announce someone else’s arrival in the house. It’s not until you feel a hand pet your hair and a gentle voice ask, “D/N, dear, what’s wrong?” that you realize your dad is home. 

Roger is crouched down on one knee in front of you and he looks worried, understandable considering that he found his child bawling their eyes out on the living room sofa. “I- I-” you try to explain, but your breath catches in your throat and before you can stop yourself you’re crying again.

Roger wraps his arms around you and you bury your face against his shoulder, soaking his shirt with your tears. “It’s alright, D/N, whatever it is, it’ll be alright,” he says, trying to soothe you, but his words and your deadname only ratchet your anxiety up even more. 

It’s not alright and you don’t know how you’re going to explain this to your dad without coming out and you can’t do that, you can’t, because if he freaks out and reacts like everyone else you don’t know what you’re going to do-

“D/N, D/N, dear, you have to calm down,” Roger says, rubbing one hand along your back. “Try to match your breathing with mine, yeah? In… and out… and in again…”

Your first inhale is a desperate gasp, quickly choked off by another sob, but Roger is patient and he keeps coaxing you through each breath, grounding you until the panic attack subsides and your crying finally stops. “Feeling better?” Roger asks quietly. You shrug, as best you can with your dad’s arms still around you and your face still hidden against him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly,” you mumble. 

It’s a response that you know isn’t going to fly, and you’re not surprised when Roger sighs and says, “Yes, well, I’m a little worried about you now. I just want to know if everything’s alright.”

“Obviously not.” Roger pokes you in the side and despite yourself you manage a small smile. You pull back, wiping at your eyes for a moment before Roger gently pulls your hands away and rubs at the tear tracks on your face with his sleeve. You can see the concern in his eyes and it makes you feel guilty enough that you find yourself saying, “I, ah, I had a fight with a friend this afternoon.”

“Must’ve been one hell of a fight.” Roger offers you a small grin, but it does little to comfort you as you remember exactly how the conversation with your friend had gone. 

“Yeah, it was,” you say in a small, watery voice. “I don’t… I don’t think we’re friends anymore, actually.”

“Now, don’t say that,” Roger says. “Believe me, I’ve had some nasty arguments with some very dear friends in my time, but once you both cool down and can talk it out…”

You shake your head. “I don’t think there’s any coming back from this. She thinks I’m crazy, or a- a freak.”

Roger frowns in obvious confusion. “Why the hell would she think that?”

It’s always been easy to talk to your dad and now you’ve gone and said too much without realizing it. So you don’t answer his question and Roger sighs again, a little more frustrated this time. He stands up with a small groan, his joints protesting at the movement, and sits next to you on the couch, wrapping one arm around your shoulders. You want to lean into his embrace but you hold yourself stiff and apart, afraid to let down your guard for fear of saying something that will irreparably ruin your relationship with your dad. 

“Listen, D/N, I hope you know that you can tell me anything,” Roger says. The more he calls you by your deadname the more you struggle not to flinch at the sound of it. You know he’s not using the wrong name on purpose, but that doesn’t make hearing it hurt any less. “I don’t care if you’ve murdered someone, you’re still my kid and I’ll still do anything I can to help.”

He sounds so sincere that for a moment you don’t think about the terrible reactions you’ve had from everyone you’ve come out to so far. You just think about how this is your dad, the one who’s always been there for you no matter what, the one who’s supported every decision you’ve ever made even if he didn’t agree with it, the one who’s always been your rock even as he lets you forge your own path in life. 

He’s Roger Taylor. He was close friends with Freddie Mercury, he’s a patron of Cornwall Pride, and he’s never shown even the slightest hint of homophobia in your entire life. And transphobia may be a beast of an entirely different nature, as you’re quickly finding out yourself, but you have to believe that he’ll be equally accepting of your gender because you don’t think you can keep struggling forward on your own anymore. 

Of course, actually getting the words out is slightly more difficult, especially as your anxiety spikes again at the thought of what you’re about to do. “I… Well, I…”

“Take your time with it, D/N, there’s no rush.”

And that’s a perfect, albeit unexpected, opening. “Actually, that’s… I don’t want to be called D/N anymore.”

“Alright,” Roger says, without a second of hesitation. “What would you like to be called instead?”

You take a deep breath. “Y/N.”

“Y/N,” Roger repeats, and your heart sings at the sound of your true name being spoken without derision or disdain. Roger grins at you and adds, “Good choice. I like it.”

You laugh, a little breathless and a lot nervous, and say, “Thanks. But that’s not- that’s not everything.”

Roger gives you the space to collect yourself, staying quiet for once and simply waiting for you to finish your explanation. You take another deep breath and let it out slowly. Your dad’s arm is heavy around your shoulders, the silence between you nearly suffocating as you open your mouth, struggling to find the right words at first before you manage to say, “I- I also want to be called “they” from now on.”

This time there is a pause from Roger and you wait, heart hammering in your chest, for the few too-long seconds before he finally says, “I can do that. Can you explain why, though?”

“I’m non-binary.”

The words hang in the air and you think you’ve never been more terrified in your dad’s presence than you are in this moment, waiting to hear his response to your announcement. Part of you wants to bolt out of the room before he says anything. A much larger part of you doesn’t want to move out of his hug, irrationally afraid that this may be the last one you’ll ever have. You know he loves you, but he’s also of a certain generation, and you’re not sure which of those facts is going to win out in this situation.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what that means,” Roger admits. “You’re gonna have to help an old man out here.”

“It’s a transgender identity, only instead of a binary man or binary woman I’m…” Something else, you had intended to say, but you remember your former best friend sneering those words at you and they stick in your throat, and you find that you can’t finish your sentence. 

“So you’re transgender, then,” Roger says. You nod, staring down at the floor instead of at your dad. “But you’re not strictly a man or woman… something in-between, then? Or neither at all?”

You shrug. “Something like that, yeah. It’s just... I’m non-binary. That’s it.”

“Okay,” Roger says easily. You look up at him, hesitant, afraid that despite his words you’ll find a look of disgust on his face, but the only thing there is the same love and acceptance that you’ve known your whole life. You can feel tears well up in your eyes again, and Roger’s face softens as he says, “Oh, Y/N…”

Hearing him use your real name so easily sets you off and you start crying again, burying your face in your hands until Roger coaxes you back upright and holds you close to his chest. You don’t even know why you’re crying anymore, except that you feel fragile around the edges, like there’s nothing you can do to hold back your emotions anymore now that you’re no longer hiding this last part of yourself. 

Luckily the tears stop quicker this time, and when you sit back up you’re quick to apologize with, “God, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I’m being such a crybaby about this-”

“Hey now, don’t apologize,” Roger tells you. “You’ve had a hell of a day, I think you’re allowed to be a bit emotional.” He wipes your tears away again and maybe it should make you feel babied, but it’s such a familiar act from your dad that it’s a comfort to have him do it now. It’s a small assurance that coming out really hasn’t changed anything. 

Still, you can’t help but ask, “Are you really okay with all of this?”

“Of course,” Roger says immediately. “You’re still my kid, Y/N. This doesn’t change that. And honestly, I already told you that I’d help if you murdered someone, this is absolutely harmless in comparison to that…”

You do smile at your dad’s attempt to lighten the situation, but you’re entirely sincere when you tell him, “Thank you anyway. You’re… Well, you’re actually the first good reaction I’ve had so far.”

Roger’s face goes stormy at that, but his voice stays even when he says, “Right, you said you had a row with your friend...”

“And my academic advisor said I was “confused”, and the LGBT group on campus clearly didn’t want me there…” You shake your head, as if you can physically remove those thoughts, and you say, “Sorry. I don’t want to think about that now.”

“That’s fine,” Roger says, though it’s clear he’s not alright with even your brief summary of your previous attempts to come out. “But listen, Y/N, if you ever want me to throw a lawyer or two at your uni to sort shit out…” You laugh at the suggestion, and Roger just grins. “What? What’s the use of being rich and famous if I can’t use that to make things easier for my kid?”

It is a tempting idea, but not one you’re really capable of seriously entertaining at the moment. Instead you stand up, pulling your dad to his feet as well, and say, “You can use some of those Queen royalties to order takeout instead.”

“You have plenty of pocket money to order your own food, Y/N,” Roger tells you, but it’s a token protest at best and although he sighs and makes a show of rolling his eyes he’s already pulling out his phone to order the food. “What do you even want, Y/N?”

“Are you going to call me Y/N in every sentence now?” you ask instead of answering his question. 

Roger raises an eyebrow at you. “Does it bother you?”

“No. Not at all.” On the contrary you love hearing someone finally call you by your real name. 

“Then yeah,” Roger says. “Seems like I have twenty-odd years of calling you the wrong name to make up for, after all.”

You can feel tears prick at the corner of your eyes again, but this time you manage to hold them back. You hug your dad tightly and whisper another, “Thank you.”

Roger presses a kiss to your temple, his beard tickling your skin. “Of course. I love you, Y/N.”

“Love you too dad,” you say, and you mean it with every fiber of your being. None of your previous horrible interactions seem to matter anymore because you know your dad has your back. And with Roger Taylor in your corner, you’re pretty sure you’ll be able to get through anything else that’s thrown in your path. 

[cowboyjen68]

I think the world is awful shitty towards women. Let me explain: I am a soft butch/androgynous lesbian, so I get misgendered as male about 50% of the time. I feel like I'm 'treated better' or 'taken more seriously' and addressed with more respect by strangers when they think I'm a guy. I dislike being misgendered btw. I love being a woman. But the world is misogynistic AF. Do you ever come to similar conclusions about the world treating women like sh*t?

OH.. for sure our culture. our world is very male-centric. Women are taught that we are less, not worthy of respect, weak, dumb, our bodies are flawed etc. The moment we are born with female body parts we are conditioned to please men, to be polite, to concede to the other sex. To not rock the boat. 

We are also constantly bombbarded with the idea that breasts and vagina  make us less intelliegent, not worthy of respect. We figure out at very young age that in order to gain “equal” standing with our male counterparts we need to hide our breasts, our “female traits” or “use” them to our advantage to gain some power.  ACK.>>  

While many people think this is getting better.. it is getting worse.. or at least holding status quo. MY 13 YEAR OLD.. was very upset when her breasts came in..she knew the deal.. she said “NOW boys will look at me different.. everyone will”. I taught her that is THEIR problem.. not hers.. She refuses to wear a bra and settles for undershirts. She has decided that she WILL NOT Be uncomfortable for what she correctly understands as someone else’s issues.. not hers. Her body is fine and healthy and ALL HERS and they can basically ‘fuck off’.  

Even with me.. being very body positive and her being raised around strong and indpendent women of all body types.. even being around men like my dad, and best friend Shawn who are positive male role models.. every GOD DAMN day at school she has to fight people telling her “she looks like a boy” or “she has to be a boy” or “she had to be bi or gay because she looks like a boy”.. So she STILL has to constantly have pep talks and discussions with me so she can continue to love her body as it is and to know that she is just as worthy of any and all respect as anyone.. regardless of body parts, clothes, hair, gender id or sexual orientations.  

Imagine all those young people out there with out someone there for them. Without a person or people they trust to reassure young females that they are TOTALLY within their rights to love their body and it belongs ONLY TO THEM>  Imagine a world that tells them their breasts make them dumb, their vagina is gross or stinky or and makes them less able to “do things”.  You DON”T HAVE to imagine.. do you? You live in it. We all do. But when it is the “norm”, the “constant” it becomes a part of your world view. INTERNALIZED MISOGYNY. We are hit with so much bullshit we believe that bullshit is a part of how we should feel.. our natural state. 

One of the reasons I run this blog.. I want young females, and even young males, to understand that they are allowed to love their body parts.. they can be however they want to be, masculine, feminine, both or neither and be comfortable in the body they have.

 Of course..dysphoria exists independent of the world’s view and it is important to address that with therapy and medical advice. 

I can “pass” as a man all day long. I can walk into either bathroom and only in the women’s do I get a double take. Every single day I get called “sir” or “Mr.”. So does my kid. We don’t mind.. we take it with humor.. but, I also DO NOT hide that I am female. I often correct people with humor. They should not feel bad for making a visual mistake based on the same conditioning we are all raised with. So humor allows me to let them know I am a female and still masculine and, at the same time, not make them feel bad. I want them to have a smile meeting a butch lesbian.. not feel bad or embarrassed. 

The only way we can change our society.. is one encounter at a time. Grand speeches and laws can’t change the perception of women or females. Screaming down those who make mistakes, when they likely are not ill intentioned, about our gender or sex only destroys hope for communication. 

Being butch or gender non conforming or femme or trans or bisexual or any of the myriad of presentations and life experiences we have.. VISIBILITY: THAT IS OUR HOPE. Let youth see the many ways we exist in our world.. let them know that there are others like them out there and we are waiting to support them. 

As a butch lesbian I have a responsibility to exist in public. To give the butch nod to young butches I see. To let young butch lesbians and masculine bi women know that how they feel is right and healthy and correct. They are not something the world tells them they should be.. they are perfect as butch, as maculine females. And they can be that and be handsome, sensual,  loved, capable and healthy. 

Who is out there that needs to see you? 

[basement-critics]

I'm Gay.... And I Failed As A Husband

Hey guys I wanted to do something new today. And that is, talk to you about my sexuality.

Now first off let's look at the definition of gender, the state if being male or female (typically used with reference and cultural differences rather than biological ones). Which you know, means if you view yourself socially as a girl, other people socially view you as a girl, you might be a girl, might be.

Regardless in 2013 this is what my spouse looked like.

[Plays a clip from an old livestream]

Okay so as you see, Laineybot was an amazing,perfect, wonderful human being. Yadda yadda yadda, I'm in love with my spouse go figure. But let's move forward to 2014.

[Shows a pic of Lainey]

As you can see, Laineybot’s hair is much shorter, I was the one that suggested that they cut their hair short, and they did. And as a result of Lainey cutting their hair short they wound up being pretty dang happy.

[Shows more pics of Lainey]

Lainey remained, quite the knockout. And you know, super happy, yadda yadda.

[Plays a video clip of Lainey doing some epic flips]

This is actually Lainey a year earlier, I just wanted to show how awesome they are on a trampoline.

[More of Lainey doing cool flips]

As you can see in this clip I was actually calling Lainey a girl, this is from quite a few years earlier.

[Clips of Lainey riding on a scooter and bike]

And here is Lainey and I riding on a scooter, and Lainey not afraid to do boyish things. Dobbs not afraid to pointlessly bury things

[Another pic of Lainey]

Here is Lainey in 2014, already fiddling around with my clothing. Which girly girls do as well, so that's not necessarily definite.

Flash forward to 2015, as you can see Lainey let the hair grow out slightly and then, boom, where did it all go. 2015 was a very active hair year for Lainey, and Lainey even wound up kissing a girl for the first time that year.

[Shows pic of Lainey and Billie kissing]

Which you know, was cool for me. Because when it comes to people with biologically female parts, I'm a very polyamorous person. But yeah you can see, Lainey when full on cutting all the hair off pretty much. My hair is actually longer than Lainey’s here.

[Plays that awkward video of Lainey and Billie doing the Lady and the Tramp kiss]

Here's the thing of them coming close to kiss, this is all for a sketch by the way. So nothing to super cereal, Lainey going to hug me, then dodging me and walking over to the new girlfriend. I relate to the expression.

Regardless let's go to 2016, 2016 we have the hair grown out a bit. Then it's quite short again, short again, short again, short.

[Pic of Lainey in the woods in girl's pants and a girl's top]

And here Lainey has gone full boyish

[Clip of Lainey looking like a normal person]

Here's Lainey in full motion of looking like a civilized emo look. Just chilling and talking, although I will say this was a difficult time for us because we were struggling with the whole polyamorous concept. Which if you've never been in a poly relationship it's quite a balancing act. Like you are trying to make everyone happy, but everyone has different needs.

Regardless it's safe to say the whole year of 2016 Lainey looked very similar. Almost as if they established a style they like. Now let's just do, 2017 and 2018. As you can see Lainey is totally comfortable with being boyish now.

[Shows a very feminine pic of Lainey]

Pretty much just baking in it. Lainey being boyish, Lainey being boyish, in this video in earlier 2018. That's right, I looked like that earlier this year. What happened? Shut up, that's what happened. Ugh, I was glorious, not even that long ago.

Regardless it's almost like our gender roles switched, which is interesting. Alright so in this video right here I talk about when it's okay to misgenders people. And I say are premature, and by premature I mean that I would develop over time. I must say that's a nice outfit, I don't know what the hell I'm wearing right now.

[Plays clip from his video about how he misgenders Lainey in the bedroom]

[Plays another clip from him talking about Lainey being non binary]

As you can see here I'm making an effort to gender my spouse correctly. But I have revealed in prior videos, that in romantic moments I may say things like “yeah girl” or other things that are specific to gender. As I've previously said I'm into females right.

And that's the problem with my logic, you see my logic is, that female and girl are the same thing. Which contradicts so many videos I've made, the reality of the situation is, while the definition of homosexual is someone who is attracted to the same sex, and app sex is presenting something in a more interesting or lively way.

I guess my videos are sex.

No, but sex is synonymous with gender. And gender is used with references to social and cultural differences not biological ones. So most of the definitions regarding sex are a little more specific to science, your physical body, etc.

So with the way society is going, gay, may entirely be based on your brain. Let me show you

[Pulls up image from a debunked article]

So this image an image the shows up saying that a gay brain is structured like the opposite sex, and this is all the information basically summuring up exactly what they are talking about.

So if a gay brain mimics that of the opposite sex and we as people are composed of what’s going on in our brain. Then it sounds to me that a trans boy having sex with is actually straight, cause their guy brain is attracted to a girl brain.

My question to you is in long term relationships how much time do you spend in the bedroom? Probably 30% of your total day, maybe 40%? Okay so most of the relationship is not about genitalia. Really the only way most relationships can survive if your brains are compatible with each other.

So what I'm saying is, we as people are who we are primarily on the inside basically our brains, or souls if you believe in them. Then what defines our attraction to people, our brains, or our genitalia.

Okay with that being said, to all trans boys or trans girls, if you sleep with someone with a different brain than you then you are straight, or at the very least bi. But I want to tell you something, a while ago I did say that in romantic settings I like using girl words for my partner. I asked if it was okay and they said it was okay, because they didn't want to make me uncomfortable.

You see my spouse, this beautiful wonderful human being who has been struggling with gender for a while. They've been going through this struggle primarily because of me, they said they were fine with me misgendering them or whatever. Because they are terrified of me leaving them, and it's really not a great thing that I didn't pick up on this sooner because I live with them, I'm with them everyday.

[Since I became more loving/encouraging of Lainey being whatever they wish to be, even more so than before. Lainey no longer feels the need to do many, if any, things people would often associate with girly activities, such as wearing certain clothes or makeup]

[I was what was holding Lainey back from becoming themselves. They were constantly insecure about the idea that I only wanted a girly girl, so they tried to meet me halfway]

I should have been more considerate of their feelings. Anyway what I'm saying is, in a romantic setting I tried out the male pronouns, he/him. In a romantic situation I addressed my partner in a more boyish manner. The first time I ever did it I immediately had trouble, like it was difficult for me. And that's because I was viewing gender based on the body, and not on the mind.

But when you start to separate gender from sex, as it should be, because scientifically our brains are different than our bodies in many instances. When you are intelligent enough and not so redneck, that you can't comprehend the difference, then you start to see being gay and being straight is entirely, 100% a brain thing.

But no, once I started the he/him pronouns for my partner in romantic settings and I associated it with the mind and not the body. When I have the mental capacity to separate the two, I realize very clearly that this is the future of the world. Relationships as we know them are bound to change. I hope that a lot of you jump on board with me in accepting that this is the future because, 1. it doesn't hurt anybody and 2. it's important that we know who we are. A lot of us are gay, or bi without even knowing it.

Like I'm definitely bi, but being bi comes with a little bit of being gay. Yeah this video is not clickbait, I am actually a complicated person when it comes to the genders I'm attracted to. For instance if there is someone who has a male’s body, but they have a female mind, I might be attracted to them, okay, it's happened before.

[Stupid pie chart]

In rare cases when a male has a male body and make brain, then it's possible but unlikely. Now a male brain in a female body I'm on board 100%. A female brain in a female body I'm on board about, 70%  I don't really like girly girls, it's kind of annoying, it's really annoying being with a girly girl.

What I'm saying is that I accidentally wound up with the perfect partner, and if you see my spouse Lainey start to go by a he/him or go by Eli or whatever name they decide for themselves. Then they know from our private conversations that I support them 100%. I'm 100% behind Eli, if that's what he wants his name to be. I love my spouse very much, and I'm so lucky to have them. And also just so you guys understand, I was totally into it, okay. I'm 100%, when I say 100g it's not like a sacrifice on my part. It's something I really enjoyed, I finally get it. And I hope a lot of trans people and the people they are dating can get it too. Because this is what really defines us, it's really what matters. And we need to stop talking about all this nonsense, that's not even really accalbuble *I didn't spell that word right* or relevant.

[allysartstuff]

Here’s a couple more for the Fiasco-Verse! Hopefully the last in this verse for a while because I made up some more for the Upsy-Daisy Verse. It never ends...

Please do not repost or claim as your own, thank you.

Peach Blossom is the only daughter of Princess Twilight Sparkle and her wife Princess Consort and local teacher Cheerilee (her biological father is unknown since when they needed a sperm donor, they picked out a random one). During Cheerilee’s pregnancy, it was discovered that their foal had underdeveloped front legs. Sure enough, when Peach was born, she only had little stumps where her front legs should be. Despite this adversity, Peach is a happy-go-lucky and excitable pony, satisfied with what she has and living up for what she doesn’t. Peach likes the fact that she’s different and sometimes uses this to impress/gross out other ponies eg, “Hey, look! I can make my stumps wiggle! Wiggle, wiggle!” When she’s not doing that, Peach uses special built wheels or prosthetic limbs to get around. Peach’s special talent is ballet dancing. She needs extra help with her balance and uses special prosthetics to help her out but is otherwise very talented. She has yet to play a lead role though, which is her ultimate goal. But hey! When you’re the daughter of a princess and have no front legs, you don’t have much difficulty getting attention. Peach has grown to believe that she can do anything a ‘normal’ pony can do. Not a bad look to have on life, if only she weren’t so reckless. Instead of thinking, Peach likes to do the first thing she wants or thinks of, such as showing off the stunts she can do with her wheels or how she can master walking on two legs. She may have landed on her face many times when doing that.

Tutti "Toots" Frutti is the only son of eccentric party duo Pinkie Pie and Cheese Sandwich. Toots is the opposite of his parents. Shy, anxious, paranoid, and extremely introverted. What he lacks in confidence, he makes up for the determination to help improve other ponies lives. As a child, Tutti loved helping his dad fix or create bigger and better party cannons. Still, he felt like he could do more and when he became friends with Peach, he knew what more he could do. He built her first set of wheels when he was six. Seeing her zoom around in delight filled Toots with such happiness that he didn’t notice his new cutie mark at first. These days, Toots likes to spend almost every day in the basement (Pinkie’s old party cave) tinkering, inventing and probably remaking Peach’s wheels or prothestics. Pinkie tends to come down every once in a while to leave trays of sweets and cakes to snack on, which probably hasn’t helped with his chub. Unlike the others, Toots is transgender and was assigned a girl at birth. While he has come out to his close family and friend group, he feels unready to transition so he ops to wear more masculine clothing and cut his hair short. He gets misgendered constantly, though, and that (combined with weight issues) hasn’t made him want to leave his workshop a whole lot.

Bits and pieces

Like Dewey, Tutti has difficulty making friends with ponies he hasn’t known all his life. He’s afraid to open up about his anxieties, mainly relating to his weight and dysphoria.

Peach’s recklessness has led to her breaking her wheels and prosthetics many times, which drives Tutti nuts. Why can’t she be more careful?!

When Cheerilee returned to work from maternity leave, she brought in baby Peach almost everyday. Not because she couldn’t afford a babysitter. She wasn't ready to be apart from her baby for too long yet. The kids were also a lot more engaged with the baby in the class so that was a plus.

Toots loves his parents dearly, even if he is easily embarrassed by their crazy ways. Cheese can relate to Tutti more due to them being both introverts and they can talk and built party canons/inventions for hours on end.

One of Peach’s favourite things to do with Fiasco (and sometimes Discord if he’s present) is to test out different legs or arms. Peach’s favourite is walking around with duck legs, horrifying Twilight and Starlight but delighting Discord and Fiasco.

These two are also a couple. Peach is very good at comforting Toots when he gets anxious and she just looooves to  pepper him with lots of affection and kisses, loving the way it makes her soft boyfriend blush. Toots loves how optimistic and even a little crazy she gets, despite her breaking his inventions all the time.

The design on Toot's jacket is his cutie mark. Pinkie especially made the jacket for him for his birthday and now, he's rarely seen without it on.

Peach Blossom and Tutti Frutti © Me

My Little Pony © Hasbro

[joonipertree]

Between Smoke and Troye Sivan Songs (there’s love)

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader x Yoongi

Summary: You, Hoseok and Yoongi getting high and making out while listening to Troye Sivan because Troye Sivan songs are the songs you listen to when you're getting high.

(This is gender neutral for all my guys and nonbinary pals..if there's a mistake and misgendering then let me know please)

Words: 3.9k

Tags: Use of hash, characters being High, making out, fluff, things get hot and steamy.

(this is on AO3 as well) 

It was late, it was always late when you decided to ask your boyfriends the same question every 2 months or so.

“Can we?”

It was always your job to get the joints, to ask your friends who asked their friends and roll it up for you and get high with you, even though you were never allowed to get high outside of what you and your boyfriends did. But Yoongi never finds out about it, or never says anything at least.

It was his rule, that they could only smoke every 2 months in the safety of their own home. He wasn’t necessarily against it but you understood his thought process, they were idols and them doing it even once every two months was risky. That and the fact that smoking was bad for you and also the fact that both you and him had mental health issues that could worsen with being under the influence of things like weed or hash, for that matter.

Often times what the three of you used was hash, especially in 2014 and 2015 when all of you were too broke for weed, weed was expensive. Hoseok was the one who normally paid for it now, since he owned watches worth 70k. It was ridiculous and they were ridiculous for buying expensive shit for you but it was always soft things, like sweaters and matching necklaces that none of you ever took off.

Hoseok was the one to check the time, eyes heavy lidded as he smiled in an emotionally exhausted way. Going on tour took a toll on both of them and it was no surprise when Yoongi and Hoseok came home and attached themselves to you for dear life.

Yoongi never said it but he was clingy as fuck and loved the attention. The only time it showed was when they were high or he was too tired to care.

You were currently on his lap, face buried into his neck with his hand through your hair as you purred quietly.

“Yeah okay, it’s been a little more than 2 months too and my shoulders hurt from the tension. I might break.”

Hoseok earned a glare from the eldest. You were obviously the youngest of the three, only by a year off of Hoseok though.

“Use it for recreational purposes, not as a coping mechanism Hob-ah.”

That’s what the man said but both of his partners knew that if he were to do it right now, it was to help him loosen up after the pressure of being the perfect person constantly in the view of cameras and thousands of people.

You didn’t say much, pointing at the pastel coloured bag that was bought from Paris by the ever loving Hoseok. It was most likely a thousand dollars, maybe even more but you didn’t think about it now. Yoongi had gotten you speakers and a digital camera since you had gotten into photography again and your old camera was practically dead.

Hoseok was the one to lean forward and grab it, letting you rummage through it before taking out a small box that had both your lighter and joints in them.

You had three in total. But one was always shared at a time which was something you rather liked.

“This whole place is gonna smell gross for a few days.” Hoseok said with a wrinkled nose. The place was indeed their apartment that they were planning on staying in for the next few days to hang out and exist besides one another.

“It’s better than doing outside and getting photographed and our careers ruined.” Yoongi said in a matter of fact tone and it all but made you feel guilty. You got them into this position and he was right, it was a risk. They were risking their whole careers on it.

But then again, both men were adults and had a right to their bodies and what they do with their time. They knew the consequences and took precautions and had rules. They weren’t stupid and if either of them wanted to stop they would, they were old enough to know when to say no.

“Can we just do it, please.” Hoseok groaned, “ high Yoongi is so much more chill.”

Yoongi smacked his leg at that.

“Ooh, I’ll get the new speakers you got me.” You said before kissing him on the cheek as a thank you and running to get the item from your bedroom.

“Music is important for the ambiance.” You spoke while coming back, shaking the speaker in your hand.

Hoseok and Yoongi rolled their eyes, having heard that a dozen times.

They agreed though.

You connected it to your phone and decided on your Troye Sivan playlist.

The first song being Youth.

It played soothingly as you sat back on Yoongi’s lap and held the lighter near the joint.

“Don’t light it while you’re on my lap. Don’t want ashes on me.” The man grimaced but smiled at your pout, letting you kiss his soft marshmallow lips before you got off of him and sat between the two rappers.

You lit it and took the first drag, the bitter taste overwhelming you as you waited for the smoke to cool down before inhaling it into your lungs.Your throat burned.

Releasing a puff of smoke, you handed the joint to Hoseok and let him take a long drag, a hand on your thigh that moved up and down. Up and down. Up and down.

Ease was playing in the background.

Hoseok had you on his lap, eyes starry and mouth on you neck as he marked it over and over again. You would let out soft moans, head hazy but clear and slow. It was always running, your mind. It was always thinking and making shit up and just doing and doing and doing. It finally wasn’t. It was finally silent and compliant and you giggled at the relief you had from the world.

Hoseok giggled against your neck as well, heart shaped smile pressed against your skin.

The bubble around the three of you was in smoke, you staring at your boyfriends with a look of awe as the dimly lit room made them look dark and otherworldly, with their expression relaxed and sensual.

Sensual.

What a funny word.

“Baby.” Yoongi mumbled from besides you, his eyes droopy and dark.

You turned your head to find him move in close to you before kissing you. His marshmallow lips against your own. His big hands holding yours. And you swore to god, they never felt bigger. They engulfed you and made you feel small. And you were small, compared to the both of them. You were their baby, their little angel. You were theirs as they were yours and all three of you ate that up and kept it warm in your chest.

Seventeen started to play.

Hoseok took the lighter and relit the joint, now the second one, before inhaling it and sighing in relief as he looked at the ceiling. His neck was exposed then and you couldn’t help but have the urge to bite and suck on it so that’s what you did,

He chuckled and patted your head as you did, not looking away from the ceiling.

Soon, Hobi’s vision was impaired by cat like eyes and all he could think about was how Yoongi would be a panther if anything. And if he was a deer, Hoseok would gladly let Yoongi eat him.

As the older moved closer, Hoseok moaned softly as you sucked on a particularly sensitive place on his neck.

All Yoongi could see was a dazed look and an open mouth that looked pretty and warm. He leaned in and gave it a soft kiss, before deepening it and tasting the smoke on his tongue and feeling lightheaded and good. He felt so so good. Good and ever present and needy for more.

They stayed like that, Hoseok letting his tongue come into Yoongi’s mouth, sucking on his boyfriend’s lower lip and giggling softly at the way you gave his neck kitten licks.

Yoongi lost his balance at one point, not having the sense of mind to keep himself straight, but he simply slid back into his place and rested his cheek on Hobi’s shoulder while looking at you devour his neck.

Yoongi laughed at that, an airy sound that made both yours and Hoseok’s heart stutter.

“Yoongi-yah~” You whined, wiggling in Hoseok’s lap causing the man to give a tiny and not so hard spank on your butt.

“Yes, love?” Yoongi answered while soothing the place where Hobi very lightly slapped.

“I wan’- wanna kiss.” Your lisp showed loud and clear and both your boyfriends melted at it.

Bite began to play.

Yoongi did as you asked, moving forward wobbly as he gazed at you with nothing but open affection. And it hit differently then for some reason, maybe because you were high or because you only really noticed that stare in special moments. Hoseok said that Yoongi would always look at you like that. They both would.

The gaze made you even more needy so you whimpered and whined.

“Kissies.” You said while making grabby hands at him.

The kiss was wet and tasted like hash and it felt good and warm and fuzzy.

You let out tiny sounds, small and cute and it only increased when Hoseok began playing with your chest, hand under your shirt as his thumb ran over your nipple.

“Baby angel.” Yoongi mumbled against your lips.

“You-yours.” You whispered, arching your back against Hoseok’s hand. Big. Big. Both of them were so Big and you were so tiny and it made you wanna burrow yourself between them.

Your hips began to move, rubbing against Hoseok’s thigh. It sparked waves of pleasure into your body, blinding you through the fogginess in your head.

“Want us, huh?” Hoseok asked, jaw sticking out as his eyes darkened, “want both of us? Want us to ruin you, hm?”

You nodded,

Hoseok stayed still, chuckling lowly and not responding.

Fucking tease.

He lit the joint again, holding it between his middle and index finger before holding it in front of Yoongi’s lips. The man took a drag from it and you pawed at his chest, eyes wide and glassy as you asked in a small voice.

“Want.”

Yoongi took a hold of your chin, opened your mouth with his thumb and kissed you deep, pushing the smoke into your mouth and into your lungs. A puff of grey air exited from your nose, shrouding the man’s face with it. You had kept your eyes slightly open just to see it happen.

It’s then that you felt arms enclosed around you and felt Yoongi press closer against you.

Hoseok was hugging both of you at the same time, face pressed against Yoongi’s shoulder before he started to mumble out a river of words. It was slow, his words were slow and drawn out. It was either him or you because everything around you was slow and relaxed and easy.

“I love you guys, I love you guys so so much. You make me so happy. Like a lot. I don’t know what my life would be without either of you. What the fuck are these emotions, I love you. I hope we always stay together and get married. Somehow. I dunno. Everything is so heteronormative.”

Hoseok was not really one for words. He would hug and give a lot of kisses, he was affectionate in that tone but words were something he stayed away from unless he was saying I love you and even those I love yous were precious and well articulated and full of emphasis. They weren’t thrown around lightly.

It seemed that the ache of the tour and the people and the constant hustle finally got to him. He finally cracked.

You guys sat like that for quite some time, pressed up against each other until Hoseok got hungry. You stumbled off his lap and nearly fell on Yoongi as the man got up and went to the kitchen.

“Do we have shrimp chips? I want that. Ooooh, we have fried chicken too. Who brought fried chicken? Oh yeah, I did. Okay so...okay.”

Yoongi lit the butt of the joint again, inhaling it before holding it out and letting you have some. You held onto his wrist while you did so, feeling like a baby being fed their milk.

Hoseok staggered back to the couch, using his leg to put distance between his partners’ legs so they could move and he could sit in the middle.

“Here we are~”

He placed the food on the table clumsily, snatching the bag of chips and munching on its contents. You moved forward and took the chicken, Yoongi followed.

It was quiet for a while, the only sound being the three people on the couch eating fried chicken and shrimp chips in the middle of an expensive apartment while high and sleepy and the music playing from the speakers.

Yoongi only ate a few chicken pieces before he promptly fell to the side with his hands between his legs. You giggled, there was a lot of that throughout.

Dance to this began playing and both Hosoek and you wiggled in your seats and got up in excitement. Yoongi groaned in dismay but looked at the two of you with fond eyes as you began dancing goofily. You weren’t a dancer, not at all and compared to Hoseok, it looked like you could barely walk but it didn’t matter. Hobi was just as goofy, pop and locking with no sense of rhythm whatsoever.

Hoseok then took your hand and started spinning both of you around, you shrieking in joy and surprise before running around in circles with him. You two bumped hips, causing you to almost fall on the floor. You two tried to pick each other up. Hobi succeeded but you failed miserably. He spun you around like that, while carrying you and laughing. You two smiled and giggled and shouted. You two sloppily sang along to the words with no coordination. You two. You two. You two. While the third looked fondly over you, his cheeks pressed against the couch cushion, eyes almost closed.

DKLA had begun to play but you had skipped to your phone after being pulled from having Hoseok sweep you off your feet. You rummaged through the playlist before grinning and playing a certain song.

Just Dance.

Hosoek had practically yelled and began singing it in a trot voice instantly. You joined him, moving your hands around and moving from one leg to the other.

When a certain verse came, Hoseok looked directly at you and began singing in a deep voice, changing the lyrics.

“You’re my perfect baby.

My whole world, baby.

A small little baby

Don’t know what else to say, baby.”

By this point you were on the floor, cackling and hitting your thigh hard from your uncontrolled laughter.

Seesaw was the next song and both of you squealed.

Hoseok began singing it loudly, causing Yoongi to cover his ears but he still looked, smiling and smiling and never stopping his gums from showing.

You did the choreo and it was almost perfect considering how many times you’ve seen him do it.

Hoseok began doing the dance as well, much better than you but still as ridiculous.

The song was shrieked and both of you began spinning around, not bothering to urge Yoongi to get up because that never worked out before anyways.

You practically smacked Hobi in the face at one point but that didn’t stop you from seesawing. While seesawing, Hoseok accidently bumped into you and you went flying to the floor.

“Oh fuck, sorry baby.” Hobi said but he was laughing, heart shaped smile out in full force.

You began laughing, loud and bold and free.

You only paused when giggling was heard.

But it wasn’t coming from you or Hoseok or from outside, which would be creepy cause you lived high up, it was coming from a singular Min Yoongi (another Min Yoongi being there would be concerning. If you, the reader, sees two Min Yoongis or even one Min Yoongi then please be concerned because Min Yoongi cannot be with you in the first place).

Both of you stared at him, watching his eyes stay screwed shut as his nose wrinkled and his gums showed. Soft tinkling laughter could be heard coming from his mouth and it was certain that he was giggling.

He was smiling the whole time they were fucking around  really, a big grin that was unrestrained and honest and so real. It was bright and shining and anyone would fall in love with it. WIth him.

They fell in love with him every time he smiled. And he smiled a lot because of them.

What a great day to be alive.

Hoseok was the one to launch himself onto the poor unsuspecting man. You got up from the floor and proceeded to do the same. The two of you covered his face in kisses, giggling along with him as he kicked his feet and became even louder. The two of you showered the third in kisses, finally feeling at peace. Feeling like a whole.

You were practically on top of him, squishing him and all Yoongi did was laugh and try to kiss you two back but you guys were too quick and sneaky. It was rather sloppy though, some kisses landing on his eyebrow or the corner of his nose or his hairline. But it was okay since every part of his face deserved love.

You stopped when Hobi’s nose bumped against yours.

You two sat up holding your nose in pain, Yoongi letting out peels of unforgettable laughter that had him holding his stomach.

Hoseok and you looked at each other before resuming your attack on him.

It was five minutes later that all three of you calmed down, still in a haze and very exhausted at this point.

“Bed.” Yoongi mumbled, being the most exhausted, having taken out his energy in giggling in glee and how much their kisses tickled.

You were the one to crawl up and start walking with weak knees. When you saw that neither of your boyfriends were standing, you pulled at both of their arms and almost fell back because of it. To prevent any accidents, Hoseok stood up, rubbing his eyes and yawning while pulling Yoongi along with him. The oldest was practically asleep at this point but he didn’t forget to take the lighter and the last joint to their room as they trudged towards it.

You could all sleep and have wonderful, ash filled dreams but your favourite part of these types of nights were the lazy talks that happened while taking slow drags from the last joint of the 2 months. They were your favourite because of the conversations that followed lying in a bed and smoking away the remnants of your stresses.

It had been a while, the three of you talking about random things, smoking and singing along to the songs on your phone. The speakers had been forgotten.

Bloom played.

“I’m a bit scared.” Yoongi had whispered, giving the stick to Hoseok.

Hoseok murmured back a “me too.”

You were in the middle of the both of them, eyes wide and glassy with your mouth parted slightly. You were a bit out of it, leaning against Yoongi’s shoulder when you heard his words. He patted the side of your head.

“It’s just that. We’re so big now. BTS is so big now.” He moved his hands apart to make his point, becoming more expressive with his body.

“But we’re so-we’re so small. And I’m scared that people will find out how small and insignificant we are. We’re just tryna make music but what if it doesn’t reach the expectations of others?”

Hoseok looked shocked for a second, holding up his hand.

“Same, Hyung.”

Yoongi gave him a high five.

“Well,” you murmured, still very much in a trance, “ you guys do make good music and work hard. And you’re significant. You help people feel better and make them accept themselves and feel more comfortable about being human. You guys are important.”

Hoseok and Yoongi sighed from next to you, leaning against you to make a sandwich of sorts.

“I’m just scared. Always. Of losing you two. Cause you’re so big and I’m so small. You make a difference in other people’s lives and I-I don’t. You matter and change others and I’m just me, being one of the people you change. How you’ve stayed with me for so many years is beyond me.”

Hoseok kissed the top of your head and Yoongi laced his fingers with your own.

“You make a difference in our lives. You matter to us. And you’re special and sweet and cute and adorable and just...you’re you.” Yoongi muttered.

Hoseok nodded along to his words and you were emotional, tears welling up  in your eyes.

“Cute and adorable mean the same thing.” You laughed wetly.

“Do they? I don’t know, man. I’m too high for this. I’m too sleepy.”

Hoseok held up the joint in front of your mouth and you let him hold it as you took another smoke.

“Do you ever- do you ever feel like we would be together in another universe.”

“Probably. Maybe you’re a fan in one of those universes.”

“That’s possible. I’ll still matter though, right?”

“Well jesus christ, obviously. You’re a person, you matter with or without us.”

You giggled, leaning forward and kissing his cheek.

“I’d be the best fan for you.”

“You better be.”

Hoseok was even more out of it then you were at this point, he finally put the burnt out stub in the ashtray next to the bed and sunk down to lay down on the bed properly.

You and Yoongi followed.

Heaven began playing.

You spoke more, about everything and anything and nothing. About fears and your childhood and your love for each other. Along with that, came soft slow kisses.

And what a perfect way to exist. To exist between the two men you love, high and listening to Troye Sivan.

Ths songs kept changing

From For Him to Lost Boy to Happy Little Pill to Talk Me down that sobered the environment and caused the three of you to have a serious conversation about mental health and heartache and dark thoughts. There was Wild and I’m so tired and Fools and There for you.

It was perfect. To be in between smoke and Troye Sivan songs and slow kisses and giggles and deep conversations and lame jokes and to find that there’s love there. The most perfect kind of love.

With time, your words became slurred and low. All three of you were exhausted at that point, eyes slowly falling closed as your hush murmurs turned into incoherent mumbling. Hoseok kissed your forehead softly and Yoongi put an arm around your waist. They both moved close to you, legs becoming tangled.

There were very soft and almost indecipherable ‘I love you’s said by them that were swimming in your mind as dreams overtook you.

Strawberries and cigarettes was playing and before the song could end, all three of you were fast asleep.

And love was still there, in between your shared breathes and soft snores.

[mike-princeofstars]

oh hey y’all wanna know a fun fact about me?

prepare for a long, long tumblr story post that’s way more personal than what you should be sharing online, but since i have no regard for self-safety, i’m gonna put out there anyway!

i used to be exactly one of those “””transtenders””” you hear people talk about!

didn’t have any body dysphoria at all, all i had was identifying as a gender that wasn’t the one i was assigned at birth.

eventually that turned into me thinking “eh my body type looks kinda like a fat cis dude’s body anyway, i think i pass”

got misgendered constantly. dyed my hair because it was the one part of my body i knew i could control easily. that made me get misgendered even more because of my haircut (plus the purple faded into pink which didn’t help.) had a “feminine” glasses style because i got them before i realized i was a boy. internalized transphobia made me think i wasn’t actually a boy, i obviously couldn’t be, trans men don’t look like me, i was just nonbinary. (i wasn’t, what a shocker)

eventually got rid of the glasses at my eyesight’s expense, and cut my hair when my dark brown roots showed up again. i said i’d rather have uncorrected vision than get misgendered because of my glasses. i still got misgendered.

cut to now. i have contacts instead because i like having clear sight instead of going on with uncorrected 20/200 vision, if i even think about myself wearing glasses, i get dysphoric even if those glasses had a “masculine” frame. i have as much of a masculine haircut as i can manage. any time i open my mouth i feel dysphoric because of my high pitched, overly feminine voice. any time i look down i feel dysphoric because my binder never makes me flat enough thanks to my body type (fat people notably can’t bind as easily from what i’ve seen) and the binder’s age (had it for a bit over a year and a half now) and frequent use. any clothes that don’t hide my figure make me look 100% girly, even actual men’s clothes.

i cannot look down without wanting to cry. without wanting to stab myself in the chest. without wanting to die. and it fucks me up because younger me didn’t know i’d eventually get to this point. i have to be open about being gay, but hide the fact that i’m trans, because they’ll think my high pitched voice is just because of that gay man stereotype.

to sum it up, a lot of these people who you think are just trans because they “think it’s trendy”, you have no fucking idea what they could be thinking. you have no idea the mental pain they could be going through. how fucking DARE you assume you know their gender better than they do? how fucking DARE you police who they are when you know nothing about them? 

that person you think is just a “gnc cis girl who wants to be special” could be, in their mind, thinking “i’m never going to pass, so why bother trying when i know i’ll fail?” that kid with the unnaturally dyed hair saying they go by pronouns that wouldnt be guessed for them could be sitting at home sobbing because they think they can’t change anything about themselves.

hell, some trans men might be comfortable presenting femininely just because to them it feels fun to enjoy something their gender stereotypically doesn’t. you people who pass off feminine trans men as gnc cis girls wouldn’t judge a cisgender man for enjoying feminine things, so why judge a transgender man for doing the same things?

tl;dr, suck my dick, transphobes