#i feel like i’m going to get hurt for daring to be a trans man with sensory issues surrounded by people who call me a girl and fucking

[internet-league-blaseball]

i fucking hate my english teacher the bitch showed us a video of andrew tate talking about how to make money for our warmup in class as if the guys wasn’t a known misogynist even before he got fucking arrested

[rodolfoparras]

Do you know what? I just got the funniest idea in the world (mostly because I think bulling Phillip graves is funny)-

but now I’m imagining making a drunk bet with graves who stated that I couldn’t last one round. And now thanks to that stunning dare he’s basically skewered onto my cock (I’m trans, let me dream) while absolutely sobbing from the amount of times he’s cum while I’m just kind of sitting there scrolling on my phone cuz I got bored

-⚰️

Listen as a trans man myself I totally get it but hear me out

Thinking about being completely unaffected, scrolling through your phone or doing paper work while Graves feels like he’s being split open on your plastic cock, looking like an absolute mess with fat tears rolling down his cheeks sweat slicked hair sticking to his temple as he bounces on your length,

or imagine him down on his knees, under your desk, lips wrapped around your length, tears prickling his eyes and drool pooling to the floor while grinding his hips in hopes of getting any sort of release while you’re just sitting there unbothered and going on about your day like he isn’t whoring himself out in your office for anyone to see



Imagine changing sizes up every day and just when he think he’s getting used to your length you’re pulling out a bigger toy to try out on him. Graves will never want to disappoint even when it stings and hurts, he’ll spend hours getting used to the new size you brought him, preening when you complimenting him for being able to take it

Imagine having him blindfolded tied up even while pushing different dildos inside of him, having him guess which one you’re using on him and if he gets wrong he just won’t get to cum or imagine switching up between dildos and vibrators while he’s tied up and blindfolded and he doesn’t know what to expect, his reactions so much more enhanced because he never knows what’s to come his way

Imagine being sent away on a mission but making sure to take his favorite dildo with you, only leaving him with much smaller sizes which would only leave him unsatisfied and frustrated, he’d still try using them but they would feel nowhere near as good as the new size you’ve worked him up to, he’d even go as far as to FaceTime you while using one of them and the whole time he’s unable to hit his prostate, unable to feel satisfied by the small size, unable to feel full in the way only you can make him feel

Imagine using two dildos on him, cocksheads knocking together while bullying his prostate, and he’s absolutely losing his mind sobbing into the sheets clawing at the mattresses, his own cock hard and weeping between his legs

[dehydrated-turtle]

Protective

//warnings// 16+, mdni

//contents// Logan Howlett x transmasc!reader, vaginal sex

//synopsis// Some idiot in a bar bathroom dared to call you a slur, Logan sure as hell did not like that at all. he decides to make you feel loved as soon as you got home. - wc: 2.4k

//on ao3//

“‘EY, WHAT’S A GIRL DOIN IN HERE?!” Ah the wonders of being trans and in a public washroom, “GET OUT OF HERE, TRANNY.” oh, them’s fighting words. 

“Got a problem, bub? Wanna take it outside?” Just in time, Logan burst through the bathroom door. He’s been your overprotective boyfriend for some time now, beating up or threatening anyone who dares to cross your path. The burly man stood menacingly, staring at the bigot in the dingy bathroom of a small but rowdy bar in the middle of Nowhere, Canada. The glint in Logan’s eye told you that the claws were about to come out if this man so much as breathed in your direction, unluckily for him, he did so much more than that. 

“Yeah, I do gotta problem with bitches in the mens bathroom.” 

“So many levels of wrong.” he growled, before the silver blades crawled out from between his knuckles, perilously slow. “You wanna fuck around a little more ‘cause you’re sure as hell gonna find out.” 

The man finally got the hint and hurried hastily out of the bathroom in a panic, but not before Logan could scare him with a sudden move toward him which sent him running, earning a laugh from Logan. 

“You ok, honey?” He said real low, turning his expression on a dime from hard and threatening to soft, welcoming, and warm, his eyes looking into yours, etched with worry and searching for any kind of hurt.  

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. Thank you though. That could’ve gotten nasty.” 

“Alright, let's get out of here, go back home.” 

The drive home was calm, Logan’s hand on your thigh as he drove, occasionally taking it off to shift gears but quickly finding its place again. The cold air brushed along your face and made your hair dance on your forehead as it came through his window and the cigar smoke found its way outside. The darkness and emptiness of the twisting highway was soothing in comparison to the busy bar you were in mere minutes ago. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath while squeezing Logan’s hand three times, telling him wordlessly that you loved him. He looked over at you briefly with his warm gaze and a smile and mouthed, ‘I love you too’ before looking right back at the road ahead and putting the cigar back between his teeth. 

His truck pulled into the driveway of your home, headlights hitting the trees surrounding it, illuminating it all briefly before he pulled over to park and turned the engine off. The keys clinked as he pulled them out of the ignition and into his jeans pocket all while opening the door and getting out, same as you. He waited by the tail of the truck for you to come around and put his arm around your waist, placing a large hand on the small of your back, leading you to the door as a couple of crickets chirped among the tall grass. You rested your head on his shoulder as you walked through the front door of your cabin in the woods, away from anyone and anything, just the way that the both of you liked it. The familiar feeling of coming home filled your heart and the smell of familiarity made it swell as you kicked off your shoes by the front door beside Logan’s boots and followed him to your bedroom. 

By the time you had shut the door behind you, Logan had already taken his jacket and shirt off and was in the process of removing his belt. He looked up to smile at you and with love filled eyes as the buckle came loose. His jeans fell to the ground with a soft clang of the metal on the hardwood floors, he walked in his boxers to the bed and watched you intently take your clothes off as well. As soon as your pants came off you heard a low growl coming from Logan’s general direction, your cheeks started to grow red as a smile creeped across your face before crawling into bed beside the beast of a man. You curled into his bare chest and took in his scent as your eyes closed. You felt a kiss on the top of your head and Logan’s hand tangled itself in your hair, playing with it gently which almost lulled you right to sleep. 

“Mm, honey… I want to make you feel real good. After what happened today.” 

“Oh? And what would that entail?” 

He gave no response other than pulling you into a heated kiss by your jaw, his strong hand holding you close to him although he’s always so gentle with you, making sure you feel safe and loved because he really does love you. His hand lets go of your jaw and snakes its way down to your ass, trailing a long line along your body that sends a shiver up your spine as he goes. His large hands took the flesh and pulled it toward him so your hips met and you felt the large growth in his boxers making you moan lightly into the kiss. Your hips involuntarily started to rock against his which earned a moan from him.  

He breaks the kiss, gradually moving from your mouth down to your jaw, down your neck, to your collarbone before he looks up at you with a cheeky smile because he’s now on top of you, straddling your legs and leaving dusky purple bruises all over your chest. Your hands deep in Logan’s hair as he continues to feast upon your chest, taking your nipple into his mouth and swirling his tongue against it making your breath hitch as your grip tightens briefly on his hair. He pulled the skin with his teeth while making eye contact with you like the menace he is, the sight made you moan. He let go and went back to devouring your body, moving down to your abdomen, and stopping at your waistband. 

“Is this ok?” He asked, hooking his finders underneath the elastic. 

“Yes, please.” you whispered. 

He pulled down and in one swift movement, your boxers landed on the floor with the rest of your clothes. His palms flattened out on your hip bones, massaging as he let out a low growl and a small ‘Fuck.’ as he scanned over your body with intent and lust. With your legs slightly spread, making room for Logan who was sitting between your thighs, he could see your glistening hole, waiting to be touched by him, waiting to be loved. 

He moved your legs apart even further as he laid down on his stomach, face in front of your cunt, so close you could feel his hot breath on the wetness of your folds. His hands wander along the inside of your thighs, gently tracing along the skin. He leaned forward and kissed the fold where your thigh ended, teasing you maniacally. After a few moments he was eager to taste you, so he licked a strip up your folds, savouring the salty tinge on his tongue. He continued to lick your hole, flicking and teasing your entrance before sliding his tongue inside, pulling a loud moan from your throat. One of the many reasons you both love having no neighbours, no one to hear you scream (in a sexy way of course). You grabbed onto his hair as he tongue fucked you, pushing him down further with your palm while also pulling at his roots with your fingers. The crown of your skull hit the headboard with a gentle thud as you closed your eyes in ecstasy and a breathy moan slipped from your throat. His lips met your clit while his tongue was still deep inside you, sending a shiver throughout your entire body. The wet, slick sounds of him devouring you filled your ears along with the quiet groans coming from Logan of which you only knew about from the vibrations on your cunt. You could feel a familiar heat rise in your abdomen as Logan’s tongue slid along your sweet spot. 

“Fuck, Logan…” you moaned, breathlessly. All he did was groan and tighten his grip around your thighs, holding them open for better access. “I’m gonna cu-um… fuck.” 

He gained speed now, pistoning his tongue against the walls of your heat after hearing your plea. His motions became sloppy and hasty as he devoured you, guiding you to your climax. Your head was thrown against the headboard and your eyes rolled back as you felt yourself tip over the edge, cumming onto Logan’s face. You were shaking slightly as he continued to lick and prod at your clit as you came down from your high, a moaning mess and still pulling at his hair. 

His eyes met yours as you came to, lifting your head up again. Logan’s hands wandered on the skin of your thighs up to your waist as he got up. The sight of him made you clench, shiny slick glistening in his beard and his lips plump from the vigorous actions. He moved to kiss you so you could taste what you had done to him. 

“Mm, my good boy…” he whispered in your ear as he kissed along your jawline and you wiped away some of the slick that was in his beard, just so it didn’t dry in there. He then grabbed your waist and flipped you over so you were on top of him in one quick movement. It was easy for him considering how strong he is but now you were straddling him and giggling up a storm into his chest. His heavy arms holding you close to him, palms flat along your back. 

You wet cunt had felt something twitch beneath it, knowing what it was, you moaned into Logan’s chest and started to grind on his clothed dick. His hands reached down to your ass and guided you along while you both created a wet spot on his white boxers, probably ruined forever now but no one really cared. His hands kneaded the flesh of your ass as his hips bucked into yours, begging for some more friction. One of his hands removed itself from your cheek which made you whine at the sudden cold but it found itself on your jaw, bringing your face to his and pulling you in for a heated and sloppy kiss. His hands reached down and pulled off his boxers in haste while never breaking the kiss. His cock flung itself free, hitting your wetness gently but making you clench nonetheless as it made a wet slap. Your hips started to slide along his length involuntarily, with your clit being enlarged and extremely sensitive from your previous orgasm, it tingled as it felt the veins on Logan’s dick. He moaned in your ear, obviously being affected by your motions but both of you needed something more than the light friction. 

“I wanna feel you from the inside, boy.” Logan growled against the skin on your neck while leaving littered hickeys, his arms holding you close still, chest to chest. You really couldn’t take it anymore, you wanted more, needed more. A free arm of yours reached down to line up his angry red tip with your dripping hole. Your ass descended to meet with Logan’s thighs as his girth filled you up perfectly, feeling the raging veins brush along your walls as you bottomed him out. You whined as you hit the bottom, feeling his tip just about hit your cervix and stretch you out ever so slightly. You propped yourself up with your hands on his chest, pressing down as you ascended again before snapping back with a smack of skin. The impact sent a ripple through your ass as well as Logan’s thighs which forced a moan out of him. You continued to go slow, slapping your ass intently on his skin, teasing him and leaving wet, open kisses along his collarbone, already cock drunk. 

Logan’s hands found the plump and soft skin of your ass again, kneading and pushing you down further onto his cock. As you bounced on top of him, something changed, and he only gets like this on rare occasions. Like a lost puppy. His brow scrunched up and his eyes went soft as the high and breathy moans came flowing out. He only gets like this when he’s close though. 

“Gonna cum already? We just started.” You said in a soothing whisper, directly in his ear. You started to pick up speed, riding him, pounding your ass against him to see if you really could make the beast cum early. “C’mon Logan, cum for me. Cum inside me… please.” the twitch of his cock inside of you told you he was so close to doing just that. His moans became even more pornographic and desperate as his grip on your skin tightened and his hips bucked up into yours. You hadn’t even realized that you were close yourself, being so focused on Logan and his all enrapturing whimpering. Your clit pounded into his pelvic bone as you clenched around him, sweat rolling down your back and tears welling in your eyes as you reached your climax. You could feel another twitch as he whined under you, spilling his seed into you in long white rivers that filled you up so sweetly. 

You fall onto his chest with a heaving sigh, your sweat glues you both together as you breath heavily on top of him. His hands wander along your back, gently tracing little designs on your skin with the tips of his fingers in an effort to calm you down. He himself is also panting like a dog but calm and so content to be in that moment with you. You nuzzled into the crook of his neck and took a deep breath, taking in his scent, now salty from the sweat but Logan nonetheless. It calmed you right down, knowing that he was there with you, grumbling sweet nothings and praise into your ear. 

“I love you, bub.” he planted a simple kiss on your forehead and sighed with gratification and pleasure. 

“Ditto.” 

[its-crowning]

It's the Annon you asked about. I was gonna wait to update until I had the baby, but since you asked…

My pants are getting tight. I can't bind anymore, which sucks, and worse my bras are too small now. The way everything keeps biting into me, leaving these increasingly deep, red marks along my firm skin hurts. Physically, obviously, but mentally too. I keep changing "I'm a man" to myself as I struggle to get my jeans to close properly. I haven't been forced to clothespin my pants shut, but it won't be long, I can tell. That’s going to be a hard day, knowing this little parasite has changed my body so much and I can't do anything to stop it. It turns me on so bad but I’m so scared of it at the same time.

I know this probably sounds stupid, right? Or like it's just dumb horny fantasy. How could I hate this and love it all at once? I’ve just always thought trans men that were pregnant was so wrong but sexy? There was so much complicated emotions behind it. Trying so hard to be as masculine as possible only to have your body go “Fuck you. You spread your legs so now do the most feminine thing possible.”

And yes, there's movements for masculine pregnancy and masculine birth. But now that it's really happening to me… that's something you have to fight yourself to believe. It doesn't feel very masculine, no matter how much facial or body hair you have, how completely you were passing before. If somebody in public asked me if I could be masculine and pregnant, I would smile and nod and go “of course. Pregnant trans men are absolutely men!” because that's the right thing to say. But if somebody tried to tell me I was still just as masculine as I was before as I winced while I doing my bra and pants, or wrenched on my jeans to close them, I’d punch them.

It's painfully dysphoric. But that's also insanely hot? That my body is just betraying me like this. It's a thrill every time I look in the mirror after I dress and see I’m still passing, even though I already feel the waistband cutting into my middle. I end up touching myself when I undress and see how much I’ve already changed in the reflection, even if I’m horrified at how much progress I’ve lost. It feels sexual. My body is doing something impossibly sexual, this little piece of him is overtaking me in so many ways and it's insane, and I have no control over it, and it's changing everything. All because I had sex and wasn't careful enough. All the most secret parts of my body. My breasts, my belly, my crotch. Even my butt and hips. And I have so far to go. I’m going to be a disaster by the end and I can't wait.

I still haven't told a soul. Not my parents, not my friends, certainly not any of the men that might be the father. I don't want anybody to know. If I can have this baby, take two or three sick days, and go back to work like nothing happened, then this all worked out. I don't want to be a dad. I don't want to have a baby. I don't want to be pregnant in the first place. But I am, and I can't stop it. You're the only one who knows. Well, you and however many followers. I don't want to risk anybody at all tracing this back to me. They might guilt or threaten me into keeping it. Or the dad might find out and decide he now has permanent free access to my life, my money… no. Maybe I’m a bad person for that, but I don't care in the slightest.

Sorry if I went on a bit here, I guess not talking to anybody about it has built up some emotions I wanted to vent! I promise I’ll at least update once the baby comes to let you know how it went, and that I’m ok. Don't you dare feel bad about this turning you on, if it did. It turns me on. Even the hard parts. Hell, especially the hard parts.

Anon, it’s great to hear from you! it’s understandable that you need a place to air out your thoughts—my inbox is open for you if you need it. and feel free to remain anonymous, too—I totally understand your wish not to have anything trace back to you.

there’s not much to say here other than i wish you the best of luck. I genuinely truly hope you can hide it and give birth safely, and go back to work like nothing happened. but how will you hide your belly, once you’re huge? how will you know when it’s time to give birth, and not just Braxton-Hicks? I can just see you giving birth in the bathroom of your workplace, knowing there’s no way out of this—everyone in your life is going to find out that not only were you pregnant, but you hid it from them.

You’re playing with fire. But I think you like the thrill of it. God knows I would ;)

(keep us updated on any major changes! i loved to read about how you’re already changing…)

[velvetvexations]

I find it really telling that the people involved in the "dropout needs more transfem rep" discourse are TME/TMA users. Strange that there's an overlap but, should have expected useless tumblr discourse from the tumblr discourse crowd.

lol it's not that strange because it's an entirely invented problem

the way that people try so hard to divide the trans community into a binary over and over and over again drives me up the wall, whether its tme vs tma or the constant lumping in of all trans people into either transmasc or transfems!! like in regards to the whole recent dropout conversation (recent example) someone mentioned that there aren't any transmascs either. Dropout's trans representation is largely, if not entirely, nonbinary people, and yet somehow this conversation is somehow entirely focused around how few transfems there are. but oh no, because (loud sarcasm) transmasc and afab nonbinary people are both tme therefore they're basically the same thing right? and no one cares if i say act as if they're the same thing, right? so stupid.

Tribalism is poison.

I feel so fucking misunderstood right now by someone I used to trust. I literally have issues with splitting and I was fucking open about that, but then they bitch at me for being an evil transphobe because I've come to distrust tme/tma people AS AN INTERSEX PERSON, something they LITERALLY TALK ABOUT THEMSELF. I thought it was a safe space to vent there but now I have one less fucking place to go I guess. 'weaseling out' of what, having fingers wrongfully pointed at me? I vented about that, just to have more fingers pointed at me. fucking christ.

and if that wasn't bad enough my so-called friends aren't fucking bothering to pretend to care either. I hate everything.

hi, same misunderstood anon. 'bully' HA! all I did was express disdain for intersexists, but apparently that makes me a toddler and a 'bully'. how fucking insulting. I thought this person had better reading comprehension than that.

Sounds like they should get fucked.

so many people on the internet just. experience one thing and make assumptions about everyone else’s experience

like. trans men on here who pass or whatever will be like ‘well um ackshually i have never personally experienced any discrimination unique to me being a trans man and also have privilege over trans women so you need to shut up about being discriminated against specifically for being a trans man’

privilege when it comes to trans people is entirely fucking dependent on the person and largely influenced by factors that are not about which direction we are transitioning in

for example. i am a trans man. i am also autistic and mentally ill

(trigger warnings for discussions of ableism, specifically against psychotic people and autistic people, and transmasc-specific transphobia for the next few paragraphs. i will put in brackets when the trigger warning is done)

i am not treated like ‘trans’ or ‘man’ or ‘woman’. i am treated as an animal that does not understand anything and needs to be hurt and forced back into its place because how DARE an animal like me try to sit at the table with people

people assume that i know nothing. i cannot be trusted to determine my own identity. people try to convince me that i’m just genderfluid or just nonbinary

if i got aggressive or angry pre-testosterone, then it was because i am autistic and overreacting. now that i am on testosterone, if i get aggressive or angry, it’s because the testosterone is making me that way

i experience a very specific overlap between ableism and transphobia and the specific ways in which it is weaponised against me tie directly to the fact that i am specifically a trans man

for example, a real interaction: ‘you experience psychosis. you can’t possibly know that you’re trans. it’s a delusion, you silly, stupid woman. you don’t know reality. you’re not a man.’

^ this has happened before. because i am psychotic, and was afab, it’s assumed that i’m unreliable even about my own identity, so they brand me as a hysterical psychotic woman who needs her medication dose upped

another example. ‘no. don’t go on testosterone. don’t get top surgery. you’re ruining your gorgeous female body. autistic girls don’t understand gender, anyway. you’re just a tomboy.’

^ in these interactions, people do the usual anti-transmasculine tirade about ruining my body. except they also weaponise my autism against me, and say that i’m just an autistic girl who doesn’t understand gender and cannot possibly be trans

(trigger warnings end here)

privilege as a trans person is SO dependent on factors outside of which way you are transitioning. i have privilege over some transfems. some transfems have privilege over me. some nonbinary people have privilege over me. i have privilege over some nonbinary people.

i don’t usually experience transmisogyny. none of my transfem loved ones experience the specific anti-transmasculine transphobia that i do. my transfem girlfriend passes better than i do, even though she’s pre-everything. i very rarely pass, even though i have been on testosterone for months. some of my transmasc friends pass while being pre-everything. it all varies immensely from person to person

being a man in of itself isn’t a source of oppression, but it definitely influences the ways in which you are oppressed. some of my transfem loved ones go through the world in much easier ways than i do. some don’t. the level of privilege a trans person has largely depends on things like race, wealth, disability, and environment, among other things. the specific direction in which you are transitioning, from my observation, just changes the stereotypes and concepts weaponised against you. it doesn’t seem to dictate the severity of your oppression. it just seems to influence which specific things people use to oppress you

And they will never, ever want to acknowledge that it's possible for trans people to have privilege over each other in different circumstances despite the fact that most readily acknowledge the possibility for trans men to have privilege over trans women exists and do everything in their power to lift them up in those situations.

"and the cat is there" how is a cat. TMA?????? can anyone explain meowth being TMA. Are we being fucking for real here?

Well, I mean, he is sapient lmao.

TMPickmEs... I'm stealing that now holy crap that's so good...

I'm very funny.

Honestly I'm just so fucking worn out by the whole TMA/TME thing and the "trans women are the only people who are known about by transphobic cis people and the only one who's suffering matters" because I, a (closeted thankfully) trans man, just had to deal with my coworkers going on a MASSIVE rant about how little girls are chopping their tits off and mutilating themselves and getting "frankendicks" and shit.

But sure, trans men are beloved by all and are accepted by the transphobic cis people-

The transphobes at your workplace are probably outraged over little trans girls detransitioning.

happy warless weekend or at least im 80% sure its the weekend rn. my friend asked me for help starting crochet and i got to autism all over the place about it

Hell yeah! Doing things with friends is important.

It’s kinda crazy how so many people are speculating about your identity just because you have opinions they don’t agree with. It kinda reminds me of that one Hamilton fanfic writer who faked her whole identity to win arguments on tumblr, I guess they think you’re the sequel to that or something? Lol

I knew someone who faked being Black, years and years ago. Wild time.

Wait i wasn’t paying attention to the discourse for a second and am clearly behind on the plai/dos stuff, did Aabria actually block her bc of her dumbass “wah too many TMEs” callout??? That’s SO funny but genuinely Aabria (and everyone else) deserves financial compensation for having to see plai/dos’ & her little circle’s unhinged transphobic misogynistic etc takes

that's what she claims lol

honestly completely expected, people like that always melt down when you just ignore them and refuse to engage because at heart they're high school bullies who enjoy knowing they're tormenting someone with a faux-progressive coat of paint and it's incredibly transparent lmao. like sorry you tried to pick on someone who's established enough that you can't utilize your dead blogging website following to effectively ruin their life this time, might wanna go back to picking smaller targets like another trans person with 10 followers online

Aabria is 6 feet and one inch of invincible badass. You cannot start shit with her and expect to win.

Another day, another *** trying to get her followers to at- tack some random disabled guy she doesn't like (totally not because he's disabled…)

Better to block and ignore the feral little idiot. She doesn't have that much of a following and it's always appeared to me even the regular TRFs think she's too mask off to platform.

[whumpy-wyrms]

The Last Lab Rat #3: Surreal

previous | masterlist | next

content: lab whump, medical whump, captivity, accidentally getting outed as trans (dw nothing bad happens), gender dysphoria, nonsexual nudity, needles, top surgery, noncon drugging, manipulation mention, trans whumpee, intimate/creepy whumper, whumper as caretaker

when the whumper can excuse unethical experimentation but draws the line at gender dysphoria. there’s gonna be actual whump in the next chapter i swear, just had to get this stuff out of the way first :>

—

Dew waited until he heard Anton leave the room before he got in the shower. He was happy to have his binder off, but it was still terrifying not knowing what the future will be like for him here.

The bathroom door had no lock, which kinda sucked. He tossed the mud soaked hospital gown on the floor and hid his binder in the cabinet under the sink.

Anton seemed so upset at his poor attempt at an escape. Dew had never been so afraid of the mad scientist, well, it’s not like he knew him for that long anyway. How long had he been here? Two days? He’d get out of this soon, he was sure of it.

But he couldn’t stop that voice in his head telling him he’d ruined his only chances of escape. Anton had mentioned a punishment earlier, was he planning on hurting Dew every time he went against him?

Dew couldn’t stop his mind swarming with the terrible things he saw earlier, trying to block it out by the sound of the water raining down on him. After he washed all the mud off of him, he sat down and curled up in the corner, legs to his chest, feeling the water pour over his head. He didn’t want to think about this, didn’t want to think about being a mad scientist’s lab rat.

It was hard though, when that’s all he really could think about. What was this freak going to do? He hadn’t even started experimenting on Dew yet but he was already terrified. The suspense of not knowing was killing him. Dew tried to ignore it, tried to remind himself he wasn’t going to die here and he just had to wait for his next moment to escape. But how long would it take for that moment to come? How many experiments would Dew have to endure before he’d get another chance?

Dew’s internal monologue was interrupted when he heard the bathroom door open. Dew’s body went rigid, he felt like a deer in the headlights, staring at the shower curtain in the direction of the door, hoping Anton wouldn’t come near him.

“Don’t mind me, Dew,” Anton said nonchalantly. “I’m just replacing your clothes, I’ll leave in a sec—” There was a noise, as if a cabinet door was opening, and a confused hum. Shit.

“A-Anton?” Dew squeaked.

“Yeah, uh,” Anton stood, holding Dew’s binder. “I didn’t know… you’re trans?” Dew’s heart skipped a beat, his stomach dropping and feeling like his entire world was over. “Uh, I’ll go get you some other clothes… be right back.” The door shut, and Dew was left alone once again.

The suspense itself was killing him, if not the fact this captor literally knew Dew’s other only weakness. What would happen to him now? Dew tried to let the pressure of the water raining down on his head drown out his thoughts, but it seemed he just couldn’t stop worrying anymore.

Dew’s spiral was interrupted once again when he heard the door open, and more shuffling on the other side of the curtain. He didn’t dare say anything unless he wanted it to come out as incomprehensible sobs.

“I put some different clothes on the counter,” Anton said. Dew couldn’t decipher his tone, it sounded normal, if not a little awkward, but he never had any idea what the man was thinking. If he didn’t know any better, it sounded like his captor was a bit remorseful. “I’ll uh, talk to you when you’re done?”

Anton once again left Dew alone with his thoughts. He didn’t know what he preferred more, honestly. Being alone, his mind thinking of all the terrible things that could happen to him, or being around his captor, where those thoughts could easily become reality.

The only thing Dew could really do was be done now. The water was starting to get cold, and he didn’t want to anger the scientist any more by taking too long. He peeked his head out the curtain to see a baggy sweater and sweatpants. Different from his other clothes, but much better than what he was wearing before. He put them on, and stared at the door.

Dew was tired. He wasn’t going to wait anymore; he had to face what he did, who he was. He had to get it over with, whatever it was that Anton was going to do to him. It’d be over eventually, and Dew could curl up under the bed again.

When he opened the door to see Anton staring at him, sitting cross legged on the edge of the bed, Dew crumbled. Pretending to be strong was so hard when all he felt was fear.

“J-just let me go, please!” Dew cried, falling to his knees. He couldn’t do this anymore. He wanted to go home. He’d do anything at this point. “It’s— you don’t want me. I-I have too many problems you’d have to deal with, it would be too much of a hassle! J-just let me go and t-take someone else to use as your test subject, p-please.” He knew it was selfish, but he didn’t care at this point. He didn’t want to be a lab rat.

“Dew… I’m not mad,” Anton said. Dew still couldn’t read his tone, nor his facial expression. What was he gonna do to him? “And obviously I’m not letting you go either, you learned that earlier. And frankly I’m getting tired of repeating myself.”

Dew let out a small sob, but otherwise stayed silent, eyes drifting away. He felt Anton’s stare, his eyes felt like lasers burning into him, the events of earlier hitting him like a truck. He tried to escape, and he was so close.

“I don’t know what terrible thing you thought I would do if I knew you were trans, but I’m not like that. I’m not a monster.” Pretty ironic coming from the guy who kidnapped someone with the intent of turning him into his lab rat. “If you need like, hormones or something, I’ll give you that. You’re my test subject but you’re still human. I want you to stay happy and comfortable for the most part, you know? This factor would just interfere with the experiments.” When Dew still didn’t answer, Anton sighed. Which made Dew flinch, which made Anton feel even more… guilty?

“…If it makes you feel any better, I’m trans too.” Anton had never come out to another person before, besides his mentor.

“Really?” Dew’s head snapped up, surprised. He had certainly never expected that to be his reaction.

“Yeah,” Anton sighed. “And it’s not healthy for you to wear that binder for that long, you should know that.”

“…Yeah I know.”

“Okay,” Anton rolled his eyes. “So why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why didn’t you ask for help?”

“Because you’re a fucking weirdo scientist who kidnapped me.”

“Seriously—”

“I want my binder back- please.”

“No can do, Dew. Sorry, I had to get rid of all your old clothes.”

“What? Why?”

“Relax, I can get you a new one if you really need it, though, you know, top surgery would be more optimal.” Dew could not believe what he was hearing.

“Wait, you could get me top surgery?”

“Yeah, I performed it on myself years ago. It’s no big deal really, I have lots of serums that make healing go faster, and makes everything less painful too. I know what it’s like to be dysphoric—”

“I want it.”

“You sure?”

“Yes! Yes I want it.”

“…I guess I’m not in a huge rush to start the experiments just yet…” Dew stared in disbelief. Was this real? Was this a trick? “But Dew, there’s something else I need to talk to you about.” Oh. Just as fast as Dew’s weird excitement came, it was gone and replaced with dread.

“W-What?”

“You tried to escape earlier.” Shit. “I was going to punish you for it, but I changed my mind.”

“O-oh…” Dew gulped.

“That was your freebie, any other escape attempt, or attempt to hurt me, or attempt to communicate to anyone outside, you’ll regret it. Is that clear?”

“Y-yes,” Dew shuddered under his gaze. No way in hell was he giving up just like that, but he’d keep his thoughts of escape to himself now. He just had to wait until the right moment came.

. . .

Anton “scheduled” the surgery for tomorrow, whatever that meant. It’s not like he had a real job or other responsibilities. Dew wondered how this guy could even afford a place like this, with all this expensive equipment and science stuff. Were his experiments being funded by an outside source? Oh god, that was a terrifying thought, the government being behind all this. Dew would have to ask about that later.

Everything felt so surreal. It always had, but now it was different. He didn’t know what he expected from his captor anymore, not after today.

Anton had told him he wouldn’t “punish” him for trying to escape earlier, pretending to understand what he was going through and that he’d “been there.” But he also warned, in his usual cryptically threatening ways, that if Dew makes any more escape attempts, there will be consequences. And that he didn’t want to know what Anton would do to him.

He also remembered earlier, when Anton was showing Dew all of those terrible experiments and lab equipment, and hinting at all of the terrible things he would do to Dew once he starts experimenting on him. He remembered what he was really here for, and that terrified him. No matter how “kind” Anton sometimes seemed, for some reason, he was still a stranger who wanted to hurt Dew. He was still the guy who took him from his friends and home.

And now he wanted to give Dew something he’s always wanted, his whole life, that he never expected to get, at least anytime soon. He worked a dead-end minimum wage job; he couldn’t possibly afford anything like this, and now it was being handed over to him like it was no big deal— from his abductor, no less. It didn’t make any sense. Anton took Dew’s life away, but he still wanted to keep him happy and comfortable in his body? His body that was surly to be changed by these experiments anyway? What was the point of all this?

Maybe it was because Anton’s trans too, and it would be easier for him if Dew was comfortable in his body. It’d be easier for him if he gave something Dew had always wanted, so he’d have some leverage over him— some reason for Dew to be in his debt. Dew knew that his captor wanted him to trust him, to be compliant in being experimented on, for some demented reason. But Dew wasn’t going to let that happen. He wasn’t ever going to give up his freedom for this guy, hell, he didn’t even know what the scientist’s goal was for him.

But now Anton had suggested that Dew get top surgery, and who was he to decline an offer like that? Dew knew it was probably a way to manipulate him, but he didn’t care. He’d always wanted this, and now, even if it was a sick and twisted way, he was happy he was getting it. He was still planning on not sticking around this place, escaping the next chance he got. But he also wasn’t going to pass up this opportunity. Maybe if he kept learning more things about Anton, or vice versa, he’d keep going easy on him.

After all, he needed Anton to trust him, if he was ever going to get a chance to escape.

Dew didn’t know what time it was now, but it had to be pretty late. Anton told him he’d leave him alone for the rest of the day, that he should rest from the events from earlier. He tried that, but his mind was too active. He obviously couldn’t rest knowing what was going to happen to him tomorrow, so he was once again alone with his thoughts for a few hours until he heard the familiar footsteps coming towards the room.

Anton unlocked the door and walked in, holding a sandwich and some water. Dew hesitantly looked up from his spot on the bed, still terrified of the man.

“Here,” Anton said, holding the food out for Dew to take it, who chose to glare at the scientist instead. “Seriously? If I wanted you drugged, I’d just stick a needle in your arm. Just eat it.” He emphasized that by ripping a part off the sandwich and eating it himself, showing Dew that it was safe. He wondered how much longer Dew would be stubborn about not trusting his food.

As Dew ate, Anton kept staring. He did that a lot, Dew noticed. Dew tried to stare back, but the eye contact was way too uncomfortable sometimes.

“You really don’t talk much, do you?” Anton asked.

“I dunno.”

“When was your last T shot?” Shit. Dew wanted to avoid this today, but he supposed it was inevitable. He knew he needed to stay on schedule, but he really didn’t want this guy around him with needles, even for good reasons.

“…A week ago.” There was no point in lying about it though.

“Oh, so you need one today, then?” Anton asked. Dew nodded. “Alright.” The scientist left the room, locking the door behind him, and arrived shortly after with the stuff.

Dew, excited for something familiar in his routine since all this happened, was also terrified because that scientist was holding a needle again. The only other person he’d let give him his T shot was his doctor the first day, and then only he could. It was still hard for him, having to inject himself with a needle, but it was better than anyone else doing it.

Dew reached out to take the syringe, “I can do it,” he said.

“Dew, you’re shaking. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“W-well I don’t want you to do it!”

“Why not?” Was it really not obvious?

“I- It’s my T shot, I’ve done it like a million times before! I’ve been doing this for over three years now— just let me do it.”

Anton knew how scared his test subject was of needles, for reasons he didn’t understand. He supposed it would be easier to let Dew do it, considering he’d done it all those times before. But he still didn’t want Dew to get away with everything he wanted. His test subject would have to learn to do as Anton says.

“I’ll do it. You need to learn not to resist me. I won’t always go easy on you like today, you know.”

“Fine,” Dew said through gritted teeth. “Just get it over with.”

“We also need to work on your little fear of needles you have.” Anton said, prepping the needle and bringing it closer as Dew flinched. “It certainly makes things much harder than it needs to be.”

“I get it.” Dew sucked in a shaking breath as Anton rolled up his pants to expose his thigh. He was shaking in fear, he realized, Anton was right about that.

“Why are you so scared of needles anyway?” Anton asked as he plunged the needle into Dew’s leg.

“I- I dunno.” Dew squeezed his eyes shut, wishing this would go faster. Anton’s grip tightened on him as he leaned away, trying to stop the tears from flowing.

“Weird.” When Anton was done, he stood and started to leave. Dew let out a sigh of relief, finally alone.

“Asshole,” Dew whispered under his breath, thinking Anton couldn’t hear. That wasn’t the case, as the scientist suddenly whirled around and took Dew’s wrist in a grip, turning his test subject to face him.

“I let your escape attempt earlier slide because you’ve only been here only two days, and I… felt a bit of remorse. Gender dysphoria’s a bitch, so I’m trying to get rid of that obstacle for us. But know, I can do anything to you. You’re still just my test subject, know your place. If you try to escape, you will wish you didn’t.”

“J-Jeez okay, s-sorry!” Dew stuttered. Anton released his grip and exited the room.

“Get some rest, big day tomorrow.” The scientist said, shutting the door and locking it behind him.

. . .

Dew could hardly sleep that night, his mind racing with thoughts of the surgery. It was really happening, wasn’t it? A part of him knew he shouldn’t trust his captor, especially with something like this. What if he was lying? What if it was a trick to get Dew to agree to some terrible experimentation? Dew had to admit, it didn’t matter if he thought Anton was lying or not, because he was still going to accept that offer. There was a small chance that Anton was telling the truth, that he’d give Dew something he’d wanted all his life, and Dew wasn’t going to decline.

Besides, if Anton was that desperate to experiment on Dew, he could easily force his test subject to do anything without being able to stop him.

Dew realized it had to be Monday by now, and that his friends and coworkers were sure to notice he was gone. That gave him some hope, that maybe he’d be rescued soon. He just had to keep waiting it out, as he kept telling himself. He’d see Hayden, Layla and Sawyer again soon, and maybe tell them what he’d been waiting to for so long. He didn’t realize how much he missed them.

Dew didn’t get a lick of sleep that night. He was used to nights like that, he’d always been a sort of insomniac. He hoped Anton wouldn’t notice, but that was unlikely. It was morning before he knew it, and the clicks of the locks took Dew out of his racing mind.

Dew didn’t wait under the bed after Anton entered the room this time. He timidly crawled out before Anton said anything, too full of energy to stay still any longer.

“Big day, Dew.” Anton said with a big, unsettling grin on his face. “You excited?” Dew gulped. What was he thinking, trusting this maniac like this against his better judgment?

“Y-yeah,” Dew said. “I guess.” Anton’s eyes narrowed, looking his test subject up and down.

“Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Um, n-not really?”

“Huh. I’ll deal with that later. C’mon, let’s go then.”

“W-wait, I wanted to ask something, i-if that’s okay.” Dew fidgeted nervously with the hem of his sweater, and when Anton made a ‘go on’ gesture, he continued. He made sure to choose his words slowly and carefully. “I know I… I remember what you said yesterday. But um- I uh, I’m wandering if I can make a phone call? To- to tell my friends I’m okay… I d-don’t want them to worry about me. I miss them.”

That was at least half of the truth. Anton looked in a much better mood than yesterday, so maybe he’d recognize Dew’s sorrow and let him say goodbye to his friends, hopefully not realizing that Dew’s real plan was to somehow tell them he was in trouble and get someone to track the phone call.

“Dew,” it turned out that Anton had seen right through Dew’s half-assed plan, suddenly looking serious with his cold gaze locked onto his test subject. “Forget about them. Your home is here now, you’re not leaving. If I have to repeat this one more time, you’ll regret it. Understand?” Dew looked away, shuffling on his feet and trying to think of anything to say to convince his captor to go easy on him.

The silence seemed to anger Anton more, grabbing Dew’s chin in his hands, tilting his head up to look at him. It was intense, every time Dew made eye contact with the scientist, it was intense. Something about him, something about his eyes- it didn’t feel human. Dew didn’t know how to describe this feeling, but it terrified him. He felt like prey cornered by a predator, as if it was playing with its food. He remembered Anton asked him a question, and quickly nodded his head before he could scare him further.

“Say it. Say it and mean it.” When Dew hesitated, Anton moved his hand to rest on his test subject’s throat, squeezing lightly. It didn’t hurt, but the threat was known.

“I-I won’t leave,” Dew forced out, his mind screaming at him not to let himself believe it. “I won’t try to escape or- or contact anyone for help. Or ask to contact my f-friends, or anything like that.” When Anton still looked at him expectantly, Dew knew what he had to say next, though he was never going to mean it. “I-I’m your test subject now. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Good,” Anton released his grip and turned away towards the door, seemingly going back to normal as if none of that terrifying encounter had just happened. “Let’s go already.”

Dew followed Anton out the door, after he took the chain off his ankle and tied rope around his wrists and ankles this time, so he wouldn’t run. Dew was too sleep deprived and strangely excited to care about that terrifying lack of mobility out there, causing him no way to escape.

Dew once again reminded himself this was probably a manipulation tactic, and the odds were more than likely Anton was just going to preform some fucked up experiment on him instead. He remained cautious, glancing to the exit, reminding himself of yesterday. Reminding himself the same plan wouldn’t work, he’d have to think of something different another day, when he got a different chance.

They arrived at that operating table, and Anton stood to the side, gesturing Dew to lay down, to which he timidly did.

“So, um, h-how are you gonna do this?” Dew asked nervously as Anton walked around the table, picking up a few restraints. “It- it won’t be painful or anything, right?”

“You won’t feel a thing,” Anton said, smiling as he started restraining Dew to the table. He strapped his arms and legs down, making it impossible for his test subject to move. Once Dew realized what was happening, his struggles came too late, the terror of his situation finally catching up to him.

“W-What’s with the restraints?” Dew asked, voice shaking. He almost didn’t want to know the answer.

“It helps me relax,” Anton said nonchalantly, moving out of Dew’s line of sight.

“Okay, that makes absolutely zero sense, but whatever.” Dew tried to calm his nerves, but it felt impossible when all he could think about was this all being a trick to get him to agree to being directed like some alien’s research specimen.

“Calm down, I won’t hurt you, you know.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Dew continued struggling against his better judgment, hating being restrained like this. “Th-This isn’t a trick, right?”

“Dew, if I wanted to experiment on you, I’d just do it. It wouldn’t matter if you agree to it or not, because you’re mine. But no, this isn’t a trick. I’m not like that. You want top surgery, right?”

“Yeah!—”

“Great, then stay still.” Anton brought another dreaded syringe in Dew’s line of sight, and he held his breath in anticipation. Of course he knew this was coming, and he honestly sighed with relief knowing he’d be knocked out soon. He realized Anton could easily just operate on Dew while he was fully awake and conscious, feeling every cut, incision, and pain that came with it.

Dew closed his eyes as he felt the injection, and slowly started drifting away. The last thing he heard before succumbing to the anesthetic was a soft, “Goodnight, Dewey,” and then he was out.

. . .

Dew woke up a few seconds (hours) later, back in the room he’d been stuck in, lying snugly in bed and covered in the softest of blankets. His mind was groggy, and he could barely sense someone standing over him. There was pain, but it was dull, hardly noticeable. He honestly felt comfy there, relaxed and warm and without that blinding fluorescent light that would always shine in his eyes.

Right.

Dew slowly opened his eyes and tried to move into a sitting position, but found his body far too weak, and also felt a strange weight off his chest. That made sense. He felt a firm hand moving to hold him down to the bed, telling him he needed to rest. That was probably a good idea.

When Dew’s mind cleared enough to remember what was going on, he almost couldn’t believe it. His chest was flat, they were gone. He had just gotten something he’d always wanted.

Then why was he filled with so much dread?

Dew should be happy. He should be relieved. No more gender dysphoria. No more hiding in oversized hoodies or being forced to wear a binder all day. He was finally in a body that felt like his, he wasn’t trapped anymore. But yet he was, in a completely different way.

He should be with his friends right now, laughing and smiling and celebrating. Hayden would be holding his hand with his pet ball python on his shoulder, cheering him up and lightening the mood as he always would. Layla would be lovingly info-dumping about a special interest of hers, as usual, but in a way that made him feel loved as well, with her cat purring in his lap. Sawyer… He’d definitely be there too, cracking jokes and playing video games in the corner, too awkward for his own good, but that’s what Dew loved about him.

But that wasn’t what was happening. Dew was all alone and afraid in a scary place with the man who kidnapped him. He wasn’t with his friends, he wasn’t celebrating or eating cake or hugging his friends or listening to music. He was alone.

His friends must’ve been worried sick. Dew wondered if anyone was looking for him. He didn’t know what to feel, he’d always wanted this but… not like this. None of it was right, he didn’t belong here and he had to leave. He had to tell everyone the good news, he had to tell them that he—

Anton was in the room, and Dew almost felt like he could hear his spiral. He forced himself to calm down and stop thinking about home, it was too painful right now. He needed something real, something tangible to latch onto, otherwise he’d deteriorate.

“I’m th-thirsty,” Dew rasped. That was a good start. Focus on anything else.

Anton handed him a glass of water that must’ve been on the nightstand, and Dew gulped it down eagerly, ignoring the sudden sleepiness he felt, and the way his eyelids felt far too heavy to keep open all of a sudden.

. . .

The next week was spent with Dew resting in bed, relying on his captor for everything, and it felt humiliating. He absolutely hated it.

The scientist told him that the healing process would go much faster than usual, because of what could only be described as some sort of healing potion he had concocted. Dew didn’t care for science, and he certainly had no interest in listening to Anton explain it, much less trying to understand what he was explaining.

But he was right, the recovery was quick. Though, Dew was filled with drugs and painkillers and even sedatives, after he resisted succumbing to the sleepy effects of the healing concoction and falling asleep.

What was worse, was that when Dew was awake, he could hardly move anyway. The first few days of recovery was spent relying on Anton for everything. Being hand fed food, water, having to be carried to the bathroom, he hated being so dependent on the guy holding him captive.

It was a few days after the surgery, when Anton came into Dew’s room to feed him. Dew hated to admit it, but he was starting to get lonely by himself, and started to look forward to when Anton would come to see him. It wasn’t like he had anyone to talk to or anything to do besides stare at the ceiling and count the seconds.

“You hungry?” Anton asked, a bowl of chicken noodle soup in hand.

“Yeah,” Dew said, getting used to this new routine. He was excited for when he’d finally be recovered enough to do, well, anything for himself again. And sleep under the bed, away from the open space, bright lights, and the scientist.

Anton sat at the edge of the bed and helped Dew sit up, taking a spoonful of the soup and raising it to Dew’s mouth. He hated this, it was excruciatingly hard not to curse his captor out whenever he fed him like this, but he realized it only helped gain Anton’s trust. Which of course, he needed.

Dew sighed and moved his mouth to the spoon, eating the contents of it. He felt like a doll Anton was playing with, or some animal he was training to be nice and docile, not the wild animal yearning for freedom that it was.

Dew learned to just let Anton do what he wanted, and it was easier to just get it over with than let it ride out forever. Arguing with the scientist never worked, so what was the point? When Dew was done eating, instead of Anton getting up to leave, he began to speak.

“It’s been a few days, you probably need a bath, huh?” Hell the fuck no.

And then Dew was being carried to the bathroom, helped out of his clothes, and gently set in the bathtub. He hated absolutely everything about this. The scientist seemed to not notice- or care- about Dew flinching as he raised his hands to Dew’s head.

“Relax, Dew,” Anton said gently, carding his hands slowly through Dew’s fluffy hair as he washed it thoroughly. Dew hated that he let himself lean into the touch (he blamed that on the drugs), the only nice touch he had gotten since he’d been thrown into this place.

It wasn’t the worst thing in the world. He was almost fully submerged under the water, his body not visible under the bubbles. Dew closed his eyes, imagining himself anywhere else, with anyone else doing this to him. He felt a warm rag slowly wiping away the grime on his face, wincing as he let it happen. He couldn’t help but find it relaxing when Anton poured warm water over his head, rinsing away the shampoo from his hair.

And then it was time for Anton to check how his body was healing, which was fine with Dew because he didn’t really feel any gender dysphoria anymore. After the bath, Anton helped Dew stand and gently wrapped a towel around his body, and used another towel to dry his hair off.

It all felt so surreal, once again. Why was his captor being so nice to him? Why did he care so much about how Dew felt about any of this, about his mental well being? Was he trying to manipulate Dew into wanting to stay here? Because it was… Not working.

Sure, it was nice. And Dew didn’t remember the last time he’d been treated like this, without having to worry about responsibilities like work or chores. But he was still being held against his will. And he could not let himself forget about his status here, as a test subject. As the week went on, and that healing stuff did its magic, Dew was only filled with more dread for the future. He could tell that Anton was getting antsy too, excited to finally be able to start experimenting on his little lab rat.

Besides eating, using the toilet, and the few baths he was given, Dew spent most of his recovery from the surgery unconscious. He argued against it, but Anton told him it meant the healing potion— what Dew chose to call it— was doing its job.

Dew guessed it could be worse. He was kinda happy he was unconscious for most of his recovery, in a strange way. Dew hated being in pain, and sleeping it away basically meant it was never there to begin with. He didn’t like the fact that he was losing count of the days though, and was more than frustrated that Anton refused to give Dew a calendar.

It was about a week and a half since the surgery, and Dew was already fully back to normal. He reminded himself that he was supposed to be scared of Anton, and started sleeping under his bed again to avoid the guy. Whatever terrible experiments the scientist was planning would surely start soon, and Dew was more than terrified. He just hoped they wouldn’t be too painful, and that he’d get out of here soon. Maybe this whole experience would just end up being free top surgery and a small vacation from work, and then he’d get rescued and could forget any of this ever happened. That would be nice.

One more thing lingered in the test subject’s mind. He didn’t understand why Anton was so adamant on taking his clothes and belongings away from him. It wasn’t like he was too picky about what Dew wore now anyway, just a few different sweaters and sweatpants when he wasn’t bedridden in recovery. But there had to be a reason, right?

Dew hummed some of his favorite songs to himself, missing his music. Despite everything, he hated being alone. He couldn’t stop thinking about his friends now, wishing he had spent more time with them the week before he was taken. He just wanted to go home.

—

this chapter was not very whumpy but like, necessary for the story and stuff. now that the boring stuff is out of the way, the test subject can actually start being experimented on soon :) fun stuff.

taglist: @whumpinthepot @shywhumpauthor @whump-me-all-night-long @whump321 @fuckcapitalismasshole @sorry-i-spaced @theelvishcowgirl

let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

[timeagainreviews]

The Twist of a Stiletto

Back in the ‘90s there was a very famous TV show. 120 Minutes, don’t act like you don’t know. But for those of you not in the know, “120 Minutes,” was a show on MTV hosted by Matt Pinfield. There were other hosts, but Matt was my guy. Being a showcase of music videos from artists MTV wouldn’t dare play during the day, it was relegated to a late Sunday evening timeslot. Growing up, I never really had a personal relationship with music. It was the stuff in the background of movies. My dad would play CDs of his faves. Kansas, Jethro Tull, Chicago, Led Zepplin, The Beatles. Music could be fun or cool, but I could take it or leave it. That is until April 14, 1996, when 120 Minutes aired Rage Against the Machine’s “Bulls on Parade,” and my 12-year-old brain erupted. A fire was lit inside me that day and Zach de la Rocha was more than happy to pour gasoline on it. I was suddenly, without any kind of warning, in love with music.

The spontaneous combustion of music hits us all differently, but I’m sure my story made you remember yours. How could it not? Music is a part of our lives. We wrap our memories in song. As such, some songs become painful. We then lock those songs in our past where they can’t hurt us, but a passing car with its windows down can bring us back. Music is personal. “The Devil’s Chord,” is a story about our relationship with music. How we hold music inside and when we let it out. It is a celebration of song as well as a lament. While the episode often achieves harmony, it also falls a bit flat. Are you picking up on a theme? Is this striking a chord with you? Ok I’ll stop. Probably.

I’ll get the obvious out of the way first. “The Devil’s Chord,” is precariously close to “The Giggle,” plot-wise. The TARDIS lands. The Doctor finds the world behaving oddly. He discovers it’s all to do with a magical gay American who chews scenery for breakfast. The American sends the Doctor through a themed gauntlet of insanity. The Doctor banishes the American using their own tricks against them. The American disappears with a warning about the next guy. Bish bash bosh. I’m getting that all out of the way ahead of time, because that would be a really boring article to read. But I will say this- if this is the Pantheon’s only gambit, I’ll be disappointed.

Ruby’s explanation of how she discovered the Beatles through her mum’s girlfriend’s vinyl collection was charming and didn’t make me feel old at all. Not to be all “kids these days only care about Tik Tok and Roblox,” but I was fairly certain most young people hate the Beatles. That is, if my Facebook feed is anything to go by. It really shows you just how on the pulse Russell T Davies is these days. Hello fellow kids. Have some trans inclusion while I court problematic people on social media. Kids like Deftones, Russell. Do a Deftones episode. Have the Doctor fight robot pigs with Chico Moreno. (Man, nü metal is having a moment in this article.) My point being, it’s weird to choose The Beatles now.

I harp on a lot about how metatextual Doctor Who can be and how it’s the secret of its longevity. They need to replace their actor? Regeneration. They need to get the Doctor into a building? Psychic paper. But I think I’ve found the exception that proves the rule. Russell T Davies said in an interview “...The Beatles music is so expensive. Even on a Disney budget, we couldn’t afford that…And so I thought imagine you’re visiting The Beatles, and you couldn’t have The Beatles music. What would you do? And that’s the story. It kind of created itself”. In true Doctor Who fashion, Russell T Davies saw a limitation and folded it into the narrative. It’s a shame then, that it doesn’t work at all.

It started with their shots of Abbey Road and EMI Studios. The zebra crossing at Abbey Road isn’t that wide. I’ve been there. And since when did EMI Studios have a red brick entrance? Where are its classic Georgian-style box frame windows? It’s one of the most visited tourist spots in London, and you’re not going to actually go there? You can’t get the music. Ok. That’s sort of understandable. But they couldn’t film on location? What exactly is the Disney budget doing here? Remember when they flew the whole TARDIS crew to Utah? And then the next season to New York City? They managed to shoo tourists and locals away from Umpire Rock. You mean to tell me they couldn’t hold back traffic on Abbey Road for a few hours? Hell, just composite it. Shoot it on a soundstage. You don’t have to go “Angels Take Manhattan,” when you could go “Daleks Take Manhattan.”

This may seem like a weird gripe from a person who said it would be boring to complain about how two episodes are similar, but it is the crux of the matter. Why use The Beatles in an episode about The Beatles if you do nothing with them? Why highlight edifice in a story about being vulnerable? Yes, the episode is predicated on the very idea of not having the rights to The Beatles music catalog, but this also denies the audience a payoff. Let me explain. Ruby and the Doctor get dressed to the nines to go back to 1963 and watch the Beatles record their first album. Great so far. They have a cute little moment with the tea lady while they sneak into EMI studios. Still great. However, as they roll record for the Fab Four, it’s immediately apparent that something is very wrong. The Beatles' music sounds awful. Like how I imagine my friends on Facebook think they sound all the time. And still, things are going great. What this does, however, is set up expectations for the moment when The Beatles' music is finally back in its full glory. I’ve seen the shot from the trailer of Ncuti in the recording studio full of smiling perfects. It’s gonna be high energy. What a payoff. Right?

The Doctor and Ruby also pop in to listen to Cilla Black lay down a track. It’s the same crappy atonal music that only a trans woman with a collection of circuit-bent instruments could love. Something is amiss. The Doctor and Ruby do a bit of digging. It’s time to go talk to The Shitty Beatles. This time, it’s more than a clever name. With as much respect as I can muster, these have got to be some of the worst Beatle lookalikes I’ve ever seen. Except Paul who was spot on as the real Paul McCartney before he died and 1966 and was replaced with Faul. See my 9-11 Truther Anti-Vaxx Birds Aren’t Real grouphat for more information. The Doctor takes Paul and Ruby takes John. George and Ringo get zero lines, which tracks with history. They learn that both Paul and John don’t actually know why they play music. It feels silly, really. They should just pack it up. But something deep in them is still drawn to music, even if what comes out is a song about a dog that was only slightly better than “Rocky Raccoon.” But before they can slap them out of it like John with his first wife, they’re interrupted by visions of the Maestro.

Enter Jinkx Monsoon, who actually opens the episode but I’m using time travel to talk about things as they become relevant. Now, before they were cast in Doctor Who, I knew nothing about Jinkx Monsoon. I know she was on Drag Race, but I don’t watch that shit. No shade if you do. Ru Paul is totally not problematic and has never done anything weird. Everything I skimmed in Jinkx Monsoon’s Wikipedia page indicates they’re pretty cool. They relish in the role in a way that will make midwest dads shift in their chairs, and I’m here for it. They’ve got an oral fixation that’s impossible not to notice. When they eat the music from Timothy Drake’s soul, they let out a moan that sounds a lot like a climax, and not in the musical sense. Also, how sad is it for Tim Drake that he’ll never meet Batman? RIP Robin. 1925 was too early. Speaking of 1925, isn’t it interesting that the Maestro appears right around the same time as the Toymaker sold the Stooky Bill puppet to Charles Banerjee? Is there some significance with that year? Handily, no World Wars were happening at the time. The Scopes Monkey Trial occurred. Babe Ruth received surgery for an ulcer. They broke ground on defacing Mount Rushmore. But really, kind of tame considering the bookends of the era. The Lorcano treaty was doing a lot of the heavy lifting though.

The Maestro’s whole deal is a sort of crazed sense of ownership over music. To hear them describe it, music belongs to them. They are music. In this way, I was pleasantly surprised that they didn’t song and dance people to death. It’s nice to be surprised. I rather liked their motivation. Monsoon doesn’t need to do a whole lot of acting. It’s all very panto. Very drag. It’s the kind of performance you hope you get. I’m not saying it’s a bad performance, just an elevated one. Both Jinkx and Ncuti get a chance to overact a bit in this story. Once again, I don’t mean overact in a bad way. David Tennant is the biggest overactor in Doctor Who save for Soldeed in “The Horns of Nimon,” and he’s consistently voted favourite among Doctor Who fans. Add “tendency to overact,” to the pile of personality traits I’m beginning to love about the Fifteenth Doctor. I love it when the Doctor really sells the energy of a scene, even if it requires him to speak forlornly into the middle distance.

Attempting to get the world’s groove back, the Doctor has a piano hoisted to the roof of a building. This is, of course, a reference to The Beatles’ final public performance from the rooftop of Apple headquarters in Central London. Only instead of Billy Preston on the keys, it’s Ruby Sunday. As she plays a Ruby original, the inhabitants of neighbouring buildings begin to shake out of their fog as music descends on them like sunshine. It even inspires a granny played by Doctor Who legend Laura June Hudson to dust off her piano to play Debussy’s “Clair de Lune.” It’s a lovely moment which is about to get stomped on by the Maestro’s honking drag boots, but for a brief moment, music swells.

I was glad to see them taking time to slow things down a little in this episode. The Doctor even talks a bit about himself and Susan over on Totter’s Lane. Couple that with Carole Ann Ford’s presence at the Doctor Who premiere last year, and it feels like it might be more than a reference. I’ve seen Whovians of weak faith construe this to mean Susan is dead, but in my experience, when a writer says something isn’t, it is. That’s just my two cents. Who knows if any of it means anything. It could just be that it would be weird for the Doctor to visit London in 1963 and not mention him living there with his granddaughter. Or it could be that Doctor Who is finally getting a better Doctor/Susan reunion than “The FIve Doctors.” Who could forget the moment when they’re reunited? 

First Doctor: "Oh, er, this is Susan."

Fifth Doctor: "Yes I know."

How could you not get choked up? What a reunion. I can’t imagine why people would want something more. The Doctor told her all those years ago “Someday I’ll come back,” and he did. It was brief and without any of that pesky emotional connection we usually get from television.

Ruby pulls the classic “But the world didn’t end in 1963, I exist,” so the Doctor shows Ruby what the world would look like without music and it’s grim. It was nice of them to show us a bombed-out London as many of us are still feeling the sting from Fallout: London’s delayed release. Thanks, Doccy Who. But the two are not alone as they’re interrupted by the Maestro and their Looney Tunes brand of scary sexy. As with their first interaction, the Doctor runs. I love that aspect because it’s very Davies Doctor Who. The Doctor runs from the Time Vortex. The Doctor runs from Gallifrey. The Ninth Doctor refers to himself as cowardly, but what it really is is he hasn’t anything to prove. He’ll live today to fight again tomorrow, and yesterday. Timey wimey.

While the Maestro finds the Doctor both hot and timey wimey, they are still very much a threat to him and the Doctor knows this. You can’t fight the Pantheon. You have to abide by their rules. How do you fight someone who can control the TARDIS with music? The Doctor rips the TARDIS console a new one in order to flee back to 1963, where the world has yet to end. I found it cute the way he kisses the console to say sorry for the way he treated her. It not only suits the Doctor, but this Doctor with his brand of compassion. The TARDIS gets it, but you’ve gotta kiss a boo-boo or it won’t get better, everyone knows that.

The Doctor’s only plan with his limited resources is to somehow find the opposite of the Devil’s Chord, a sort of lost chord, if you will. Of course, this draws the Maestro to the Doctor like my cats to the sound of the tin opener. The Maestro captures Ruby, wrapping her up in sheet music. The Doctor stares down the Maestro as they allow him the opportunity to prove his musical genius. Can the Doctor find the lost chord? With each new note appearing above the piano, the Maestro writhes in twisted agony. But the Doctor hits a bum note and the Maestro is back on their feet ready to suffocate the Doctor in a drum and choke the life out of Ruby. But the song within Ruby’s soul from the Christmas Eve where she was left on that church stoop is stronger than anything the Maestro can muster. The Maestro may own music, but Ruby owns this song in that moment. Like before in “Space Babies,” the snow begins to fall indoors and the Maestro recoils in horror.

This gives the Beatles enough time to discover the piano and play that final note. Alone, they may not be geniuses, but the combination of McCartney and Lennon is enough to find the lost chord and banish the Maestro. They could have also achieved this with Harrison alone. He wrote “Here Comes the Sun,” after all. With the lost chord now found, the Maestro gets sucked off back where they came. Was the note they found the same one from the end of “Day in the Life?” RTD said they used a single Beatles chord. Was that it? I don’t know enough about music to answer that. After a quick re-listen, I'm going to say yes.

London is once again filled with music. Now, we’ll finally get the chance to see the Beatles play their actual music, right? They fixed music, right? God I wish. After cryptically looking into the camera and saying “There’s always a twist in the end,” the Doctor and Ruby are suddenly thrust into what I can only describe as the worst song possible. I’ve said in the past that I am not a huge fan of Murray Gold’s music. There’s nothing wrong with it, it’s just a bit safe for my tastes. But this song… I loathe it with every fibre of my being. It’s cloying, it’s corny, and it’s a repetitive ear worm you don’t want stuck in your head. I’ve said I was interested in Doctor Who doing a musical number, but this was god awful. I try to be as fair as possible when it comes to my reviews, so I think I’ve earned enough good faith to openly say this song is terrible. I would rather listen to the crappy dog song from earlier in the episode, and I don’t even own any circuit-bent instruments, and therein lies the problem.

How can you say the Doctor saved music when the way you present it is with a song that is simply not good? We need a good song in this moment, and that was not it. If ever there was a time to reach into the coffers and pay for a song, it was this. I mean, he said “There’s always a twist in the end,” and “Twist and Shout,” was right there. It wasn’t even written by the Beatles so it might have even been cheaper. They could even re-record it in the same Glee style in which they filmed the big song and dance routine. Hell, how expensive are Cilla Black songs? Do one of those. Instead, we get another fake Beatles song, in fake EMI studios, on fake Abbey Road to imply that we saved the future from a world of fake Beatles songs. By the time this insipid tune wears out its welcome, the Doctor and Ruby skip away across Abbey Road, lighting up the zebra crossing like piano keys. But instead of it being charming, it caused both my wife and I to say “Oh God, it’s still going.” 

After the episode, I did a little bit of reading. I figured the two people dancing with the Doctor and Ruby were guest stars as they singled them out over the other background dancers. Evidently, they’re judges or competitors on Strictly. I dunno, I don’t watch that shit. So I really have no idea if that song was written to be in the style of something you would see on Strictly. But what I do know, is that it was brave of Murray Gold to show his face during that exquisite train wreck. I guess this episode really did pull a “Daleks in Manhattan,” à la “My Angel Put the Devil In Me.” In that respect, you can add contemporary music to the list of things Doctor Who should do well, but can’t seem to get right. It’s in good company with pirates and westerns. “The Gunfighters,” even fails at two out of three. Impressive!

I do admire the hell out of RTD and company for throwing their whole ass into that ending. It takes real chutzpah to fail so spectacularly. And honestly, as harsh as I’ve been, I didn’t totally hate the scene. In some ways, it's a clever pastiche to '60s music. In that light, I could maybe come around to it, over time. They’re also trying new things. But I think we found the ceiling pretty fast. I can’t say I’d like to see that sort of thing a lot more in the future, but here and there? Sure. As it is, it feels unrestrained and masturbatory. And truthfully, I would have preferred an actual musical like Buffy’s “Once More, With Feeling,” or Star Trek: Strange New Worlds’ “Subspace Rhapsody.” They somehow gave me what I wanted while simultaneously failing to deliver.

Now of course, the real question is- what was the twist at the end? Was it the appearance of the Maestro’s “son,” Henry “Harbinger,” Arbinger?  Or maybe it was a meta-reference to actress Susan Twist, the woman who once again has shown up in the background. I find it even more interesting that in every episode where she’s appeared, they give her a line to read. Or maybe it’s a Susan twist, as in the Doctor’s granddaughter. They mention Susan in the same episode with an actress named Susan Twist where they sing about twists while doing the twist. It’s like “Who’s on second?” or “The Doctor’s daughter who plays the Doctor’s daughter in ‘The Doctor’s Daughter,’ marries the Doctor.” 

Despite the ending and the rehashed story, I rather liked this episode. Jinkx Monsoon and Ncuti Gatwa had great chemistry. The mysteries continue to unfold. Along with my hope for the Rani, I can now add hope for Susan into the mix, and as with the Rani, I won’t get my hopes up. In the same vein, I'm grateful that Maestro wasn't a code name for the Master. We've seen enough of him for a while, thanks. Ncuti and Millie continue to impress as the Doctor and Ruby. I also admired Ruby's restraint in not telling John Lennon to avoid chubby guys in glasses. I loved the Maestro and the fact that their laugh was vocal warm-up. So much fantastic attention to detail. But that ending is not my bag. It felt tacked on, poorly paced, and obnoxious. It reminded me of that line from Fight Club- “We are the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.” Emphasis on the crap.

[wangxianficrecs]

The Housewife's Guide to Causing Chaos by dvasva

The Housewife's Guide to Causing Chaos

by dvasva (@dvasva)

M, WIP, 117k, Wangxian

Summary: “Of all the rotten luck I could have!” Outside, in between the gentle embrace of an imposing misty mountain and the caress of soft wind, stood the Cloud Recesses. It wasn’t a section that Wei Wuxian had recognized from his time in the sect, but the motifs of clouds and cranes in the buildings, the impeccable feng shui and carefully manicured paths, and the utter silence as the sect members slept peacefully, all burned themselves into Wei Wuxian’s eyes. No wonder the curtains were so firmly nailed to the walls! Any bit of demonic energy escaping the room could call down a veritable army of righteous cultivators! What sort of person in their right mind would dare to summon a spirit into their own body using resentful energy in the Cloud Recesses of all places? What kind of person would scoff so rudely at the Lan Clans most important rule, ‘Do not fraternize with evil?’ After being dead for four years, Wei Wuxian wakes up in a body he doesn't really feel comfortable with, in a place that he's sure wants him dead, and married to a man who surely hates him. Kay's comments: Another story that I'm currently following and which always makes me shout in excitement when the notification for an update comes! A story in which Wei Wuxian gets brought back to life way earlier, but a) now he's stuck in a woman's body, b) it's a woman of the Meishan Yu Sect and c) he's married to Lan Wangji. I really love the character developement in this and the life this story gives to background characters and it's always good to see Wangxian reunited and married sooner. Poor Wei Wuxian only has to deal with a dysphoria and transphobia now, but at least the Lans are supportive and help him to the best of their abbilities when it comes to this. I also really love the relationship between Wei Wuxian and Lan Sizhui here - our little radish is a lot younger too after all. Excerpt: “Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji said it so softly, so tenderly. It almost hurt to hear. Wei Wuxian had never heard Lan Wangji’s voice so soft, and yet it felt so familiar and inviting. Any guilt that Wei Wuxian felt for being on the receiving end of such care was whisked away. He wanted to melt right there. Instead, he tensed. “Ah, isn’t interrupting people breaking the rules? How did you guess so fast? I barely made it a single day without someone recognizing me. What gave it away?” He blabbered, fast paced and without a breath. “Listen, Lan Zhan, I’m really not going to do anything bad, I’m not eve-“ Lan Wangji grabbed his hand, and Wei Wuxian stopped in his tracks. It wasn’t a very strong grip. If he wanted to, Wei Wuxian could break free or tug his hand back. Lan Wangji’s hand seemed to tremble as if ready to pull back at any sign of discomfort. But, Wei Wuxian did not move, simply waiting. With no resistance, Lan Wangji turned Wei Wuxian’s hand over so that his palm was up, then placed the jade token on it. With both of his hands, he closed Wei Wuxian’s fingers over the token and pushed it towards Wei Wuxian’s body. “What?” “I will not trap you here.” Lan Wangji stood up. “Please let me attend to your wound.”

pov alternating, canon divergence, trans male character, trans wei wuxian, love confessions, getting together, transphobia, good parents lan wangji & wei wuxian, mutual pining, misunderstandings, arranged marriage, gender dysphoria, cultivation sect politics, hurt/comfort, corporal punishment

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[quite-actually-a-nacho]

as much as I’d love to tell the community how much of a despicable insufferable person my boss is from our small business, I know people would get on my ass for trying to ruin his livelihood, that he’s already halfway through his life and struggling and I’m just kicking a man while he’s down, or get the inevitable influx of conservatives who think I’m whiny and entitled and it would reflect badly on communities they already hate.

it’s tiring out here, man! I’m so radicalized and the stuff my boss says and does is so normalized that it feels silly to try doing anything about it. I’d become the evil one. and truthfully the business he’s running is a great one that SHOULD be unifying the local communities, it IS a needed space in a society pushing out fun, safe spaces for people of all ages. but my boss is a fucking asshole and it taints the whole thing once you know him! it’s a good thing being done by an intolerant jerk, like some kind of sacrifice. ‘let the guy alone or we’ll lose a good space for the people’ kind of dynamic, and it’d all be my fault if I said anything. he should get to go free for a good cause, while continuing to hurt people including his own employees.

I bet we’d see a nice bump in customers if he dared to declare we are a safe space for youth, for queer people, for trans people especially, that he doesn’t tolerate casual racism. but all while the people he despises come into his arcade, he talks behind their backs and that’s truly horrible. “I think you people are weirdos but thanks for giving me money.” it feels fake, but suddenly I’d be the one who isn’t unifying our community, who is narrow-minded and unaccepting of intolerant people. people like him say awful shit and think they’re still the good guys and that if you call them out, we’re brats, condescending to them, causing strife. oh my GOD.

[finitevoid]

Today I told my mom the label I feel describes the way I experience gender the best. I told her this because I needed to tell someone. I couldn’t just let this reality of my existence rot alongside my pain, inside of me and going unexpressed, forever. And she told me. She said. If trump wins, then pretend. and I said pretend what? And she couldn’t even look me in my eyes and say it. She couldn’t say with her breath, Pretend to be cis. she talked around it and I had to say, pretend to be cis. and I was angry at her. I don’t like her family. they have, intentionally or not, built me a closet and pushed me inside. they’d never say anything, of course. They gave accommodating my transgenderism the old college try, and when I continued to look not very much like a man, unceremoniously gave up and abandoned the effort entirely. And I have put myself back in that closet. Because it’s easier than fighting for it, every single fucking time I meet someone. I am not that thorough and I am not that strong. So I’ve made myself a comfortable little spot in the closet, because that way I can tell myself that it shouldn’t hurt and I shouldn’t be upset about it, because I was the one who put myself there. It’s an elaborate little fiction that I’ve baked into my brain and using that, I can’t hold it against anyone who disrespects me, because I’ve already disrespected myself. So my mom tells me to pretend. And I am angry because I already am. I am beating myself into a box of cisgenderism and it feels like an utterly grand betrayal. It feels like I am spitting in my own face. Like I am rejecting the reality of my existence and what I know about who I am all in the name of what, fear? Rejection? I can tell myself it’s to protect myself, and it is, but it’s a more pathetic existence than that. It’s just me, and a skirt, and suddenly understanding that all my friends with pronoun pins on their backpacks are simply more fearless than me. And my mom tells me to pretend. And I am angry because she will never know what it feels like to cut yourself up into tiny fucking pieces for the consumption of other people. She doesn’t know what it’s like to have my taste of the fucking sun, to know what it feels like to live in the truth and live out my existence as I want to, and to have to turn my back on that. They are killing us, yes. and this is killing me. and she never gets that. She never gets it. What gives her the right to tell me what I should let kill me. what gives her the right to decide what risks I should take. I’m going to be trans either way, I told her, and she assured me, I know, I know. But she wants me to pretend. and it’s so stupid because I’m already pretending for all the fucking reasons she wants me to. But how dare you ask that of me. How dare you stand on ceremony like that. With no gravity. like you have any idea what you are asking of me. With no appreciation of how difficult what you suggest is. You worry and you fret and you let your love for me eclipse the reality that I am the one navigating my own existence. You watch these things from your detached place of observation, of connection only through me. You hear about anti trans policies and you worry about me. I hear about anti trans policies and I am living my LIFE. I am EXISTING in this world inescapably as a trans person. I am not an observer I am a participant, unwilling or no. How dare you ask that of me

[thebimarauder]

All for the game blurb post canon that i thought of today 

A little angsty but when is AFTG not 

credits for characters go to Nora with a little twist 

TW: mentions of: depression, self harm, and suicide attempt 

Neil: “Hey drew is something wrong?”

Andrew: “No”

Neil: “Are you sure you look a little upset”

Andrew:  “Im fine junkie” 

Neil: “Arent you always telling me im not allowed to say that?” 

Andrew:  “...”

Neil: “Umm okay but are you sure im worried? Will you at least talk to bee dont you have an appointment tomorrow im sure she wouldnt mind-” 

Andrew:  “do you really want to know how i feel neil fine if you care so much ill tell you. i hate most people and when i say that i really do mean it. i hate myself. i hate the fact that i was born in the wrong body and that there’s nothing i can do about it. i hate that i have boobs, i have boobs neil what kind of man has boobs and a vagina. i hate that i have this body but it makes me a trans gay man which makes a lot of people hate me and that coincidentally is one of the only things i don’t hate about myself. i hate the fact that i’m so fucked up and no matter how hard i try or how much time i put in with bee nothing will ever make me better.

i hate Aaron for hating me when i saved him and although i understand i just don’t get why he still doesn’t care because i obviously care and even you being so stupid as you are can tell that i care but he can’t. i hate Nicky for giving away his whole life and happiness for me and Aaron but i can also never thank him enough and that makes me so angry with myself that i’m happy that he fucked up his whole life but i’m so great full and i don’t know how to tell him. 

i hate wymack for giving me a chance and agreeing with my stupid idea to bring along aaron and nicky. he should have left me to rot and moved on to some other fucked up teen. i hate kevin for pulling me into all of this shit but also for giving me something to live for because now i’m alive every day dreading getting out of bed because although everything is far better now than it ever has been before in my entire life i still feel a weight on my chest both metaphorical and physical that i can’t get rid of and now because of kevin i still wake up to that every day. i hate bee for not giving up on me because somehow it worked enough that i’m able to talk about some things now and i don’t want to talk about them or even think about ever again. i hate myself for scaring people but i’m not even doing anything other than protecting myself and my family and i am called a terrifying monster. i hate myself for not fighting enough when i was younger and giving in to my darkest thoughts but i also hate that i didn’t go through with them which makes me hate myself more bc who wishes to die and then hates themself for not going through with it even when they have never been happier.

and above all neil i hate you because before you i felt nothing and now i feel everything. the good and bad and it’s more than i can deal with and i don’t want to throw anything on you but i can’t do it myself because you made me open myself up and you made me weak. You made me get off of the meds and you caring about me hurts because why have i never gotten that before in life but it is also the thing that makes all of the hate go away for a minute because although i say it all the time i don’t actually hate you neil i think i love you and it terrifies me. so there i said it i’m falling apart and losing my marbles and becoming the hateful monster everyone thinks i am and it’s all because of you. and i can’t do it. “

Neil: “…drew “

Andrew:  “rabbit “

Neil: “fuck drew “

Andrew:  “…”

Neil: “i love you so much “

Andrew:  “no you don’t “

Neil: “yes i do. don’t you dare tell me that i don’t love you because i do i always have. you are the only one to make me feel this and it’s love. i’ve always known but i wasn’t sure if you were ready but drew i love you and i know things are hard and you don’t feel like yourself and there’s years worth of tension with your family but i promise we will figure it out together like we always have because you are andrew minyard the strongest person i have ever met and i am hopelessly in love with you and would do anything to make you as happy as you make me and i will never stop tying. “

Andrew:  “rabbit “

Neil: “you can’t hate yourself like that because then you are hurting the person that i love most in the world and i can’t let you do that “

Andrew:  “Junkie”

Neil: “No i mean it drew you are amazing and wonderful and so lovable and i dont know how everyone else dosent see it and i dont know how you dont see it. I mean think of all of the amazing things you have done, you saved aaron multiple times, you saved nicky from those guys at the club, you got matt off the drugs, you protected kevin, you saved me “

Andrew:  “No i-”

Neil: “Yes you did drew you saved me and i love you for you and for all of that and i will never stop loving you so you better stop hurting yourself bc you said you would never hurt me and you hurting yourself physically or emotionally hurts me “

Andrew:  “I will try “

Neil: “Good and i know you said you are not super comfortable with your body but i just wanted you to know that I think you are the most beautiful person ive ever seen, you are like a greek god, strong, golden, powerful, and so fucking hot and even if you have moments or days of dysphoria or dislike for your body i will never stop thinking that you look amazing. And if you ever want to talk about this in more detail i am always here and would love to learn how to help “

Andrew:  “Thank you rabbit “

Neil: “Of course drew and about the other thing i cannot imagine how hard it was growing up in the situations that you did but i am so so fucking happy that you did not go through with trying to end it. And i know that now you are feeling more emotion than ever before because of the meds and pushing everything down and that it feels so scary and horrible right now it also lets you feel the good and happy and love from family and friends and I know you may not like everyone but after the last few months everyone loves you me most of all so im really happy that you can feel that now and know how much we care “

Andrew:  “I… i dont know what to say i bottled everything up for so long and now its overwhelming and i just dont know what to do or how to make it go away again “

Neil: “If you knew how to make it go away again in a healthy way i think you would make millions because no one has gotten that answer yet but if you ever need anyone to hold you up when everything feels particularly heavy i am not going anywhere if you need to cry, scream, hide, be held i will be here no questions asked and do everything i can to help all you need to do is ask for help so that it dosent get to this low of a point again because i never want to see you so low again “

Andrew:  “Did i scare you “

Neil: “No drew never but you did worry me you were so out of it and not responding and then you exploded with all of these things that you have never brought up before and that made me scared for you “

Andrew:  “Im sorry “

Neil: “You have nothing to be sorry for now how about we curl up and watch a movie so you can have a break from the feelings and then we can talk some more later “

Andrew:  “Okay “

Neil: “Okay lay with me drew? Yes or no?” 

Andrew:  “Yes, kiss me junkie? Yes or no? “

Neil: “Always yes “

[revanchistsuperstar]

Think I got a delayed emotional reaction to OFMD season two because I just started crying HARD listening to This Woman’s Work on the way home from the gay bar tonight. Weepy sad faggot details beneath the cut:

I’ve already said mentioned sort of not explicitly in the tags of a lot of posts what I’ve been going through the last few months but this is a fucking boiling point so let’s get into it.

I kissed a random man at the club tonight. He was gorgeous. He ticked every box I could think to have ticked. Otter, but a bit (lot) fruity. We were at a bear bar, I saw my friends do an awesome drag show, I was having a wonderful, happy time. Got flirted with and desired by a random man, the only thing I as a gay trans man have ever wanted. Almost was like “please, just take me home and fuck me” but he was off to another club and I didn’t feel like comitting to the bit as they say. Because here is the sad truth.

Ketan is the only person I’ve been able to see myself with for months. I love him. I hate that I do, but I do. He kissed me like I literally have never been kissed by a man before, this cisgender gay man, kissed me like I was the most beautiful, desirable man he’s ever known. We’ve known each other for

Eight years.

I’m absolutely not monogamous. I’ve had feelings for other men during the time I’ve had feelings for Ketan. This crush came on when I was still with my ex fiancée, I’ve felt this way for YEARS.

But the mother fucker had to kiss me, make me feel worthy of something for the first time in my life, say “I know,” when I told him I’d felt this way about him for years and kiss me again harder after our lips pulled apart that first time, keep kissing me that whole night over and over and over, and then pull a 180 and suddenly become too scared to talk to me ever again and tell me he was heartbroken and he couldn’t deal with this, when he was the one who came on to ME, because I as a gay trans man am so convinced every cis gay finds me repulsive I’ve never even made a Grindr despite desperately wanting to be dicked down most every day and night.

He had to say “you should have told me how you felt. I still might have done this but I would have been prepared” but then completely ghost me for an entire month.

He had to refuse to discuss it to the point that seven months later I still am so fucking confused I don’t even know how to explain to our mutual friends what the fuck happened.

And now here I am. Kissing a random, beautiful man but thinking of him. Thinking about how insane I went when he wasn’t talking to me at all, how I nearly lost my job because I was so suicidally depressed I would wake up every day and have my first thought be “I don’t want to be alive.”

I should be hoping, but I can’t stop thinking.

The fucking OCD mood.

This weird part of me keeps thinking “you two are meant to be together in the end, just be patient, this is the love of a lifetime and nobody has ever made you feel like this before, you two literally can talk to each other with just looks, every single damn thing about your lives is a mirror of one another, this is fate, this is a higher power doing this” but the rational part of me is so, SO fucking upset and hurt STILL and I hate both of these parts of me and I just don’t know what to do besides cry and dare to hope this might work out like it does on TV.

I miss you so much, Ketan. You’re literally only a few hundred feet away, posting “dinner for one” on your IG story, and I’m so much of a coward I can’t even text you and tell you what I feel.

And there has to be a god damn fucking tv show starring my COUSIN who LOOKS LIKE ME making it easy to project with a song that I’ve loved for years and just cuts to my core because it could be about US and I’m driving home from the club when I should be so over the moon that I got to kiss some dude who was so beautiful I’m just crying instead and…

Ketan I miss you so much. Why the fuck is this so triggering and so hard.

[book-place]

You From the Future

Warnings: hunting, bad parents, violence, guns, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Dean Winchester x reader platonic, Sam Winchester x reader platonic

Request: Hey friend! I legit go back and read the other request when I’m in need of fluff! And on my drive home from OBX! I love your writing style and If you don’t mind could I please request: Supernatural x Teen!Male!Reader. The reader is the son of a hunting family Bobbie used to recommend around to hunters as an extra set of hands. The Reader and his family are on a hunt with Sam and Dean looking for a Wendigo nest in northern Maine. While I’m the trip Dean sees a lot of himself in Reader, raised to be solider, calling his parents sir and ma’am, forcing away tears when he gets hurt- he sees a machine rather than a 17 year old. After the hunt is over Dean pulls Reader aside maybe gives him the phone number to one of their burner phones they keep for long periods of time and the address to the bunker, hoping one day he’ll show. A week later, the brother walk in and the Reader is here at the bunker hanging out with Kevin Tran, and like gives Dean a greatfull smile, looking less exhausted then Dean had ever seen him. Sorry if it’s long but I love your work ❤️❤️

Request by: @bringinsexybackk69

*not my gif*

Summary: When Dean looks at you, it’s like looking into a mirror of his past

A/N: Sorry this took so long, Bubba- hope you enjoy :) <3

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

As slowly as he could, Dean reached up to wipe his sweaty brow with the back of his sleeve, barely even daring to blink. The loaded flare gun was clutched in a deadlock in his hand; he and Sam had learned after last time that it worked better than the traditional killing method.

Beside him, the slight sound of scuffing let the man know that you were shifting your weight slightly, tense, but ready to fight at any given moment.

Behind you, Sam and your parents could be found in similar positions.

Every once and a while, the heavy footsteps of the wendigo bounced off the cave walls in a way that made it seem like they were coming from all directions, so it was impossible to tell when the creature would be appearing.

The anticipation of what was to come hung thickly in the room, practically suffocating everyone inside.

Though he didn’t have time to think about it, the man couldn’t help the thought from crossing his mind about how your parents were content having you hidden from their line of sight by Sam’s monstrous form, not even seemingly glancing over to check on you. He couldn’t help but have that remind him of…

Then, out of nowhere, a terrible roar was let out and the wendigo walked into everyone’s line of sight, drool rolling down its hideous face as its void eyes stared at all of you in hunger.

Everyone immediately sprang into action, shooting off into different directions and firing maniacally at the beast.

With shocking agility, it dodged all of them in a way that ones in the past hadn’t had when he and his brother had hunted them. This one was different. Smarter.

Panic immediately flooded into his system, doing everything in its power to suffocate him, but he pushed the feelings down- just as he always had- and put on a stone cold mask and began thinking of a way to overpower the beast instead.

He barely even registered the frantic looks on your parents' faces as they tightly gripped one another’s hands, backs to you without so much as a glance back to see how you were doing.

“Dean!” Sam called, motioning wildly with his hands to the large pile of rocks that were behind the wendigo.

The man understood immediately, and apparently you did too, because you rushed up beside him and took out your flare gun, aiming for behind the creature as the Winchester brothers did the same, firing round after round until the rocks came crashing down.

Too many of them came too fast, and the wendigo wasn’t able to stop them and protect itself before it was buried, tearing and breaking its flesh along the way.

Everyone let out a deep breath, shoulders sagging in relief that the creature was gone.

A groan emitted from the back of your throat as you gripped your shoulder. A lone stone had been thrown from the rubble and hit you on a weak spot, breaking skin and sticking into your arm.

The Winchesters' eyes widened and they were quick to try and rush to your side, only to have your parents interfere in the middle, seemingly oblivious to your pain.

Your father laughed, reaching out a hand to shake Sam’s, “That was very smart of you, Winchester.” He complimented with a grin.

Sam gave him a tight lipped smile as his nervous eyes flitted around the man, landing on your slightly hunched over finger as Deans did the same.

“Your son,” Dean pointed, trying to get around your mother.

She just stepped to the side and blocked his path, “Don’t mind him, Dean, he’s fine. Just being overly dramatic.” She wasn’t even trying to keep her voice down, “He thinks it’s the way to get attention.”

He became painfully aware of the way your muscles tensed before your back straightened at her words. Painfully aware of how the back of your hand was quick to fly up to your eyes and rub them slightly, ridding them of unshed tears.

“Are you okay?” Sam called to you over your fathers shoulder, who had also stopped the man from walking over any closer to you.

“He’s fine.” Your father repeated through gritted teeth, shooting you a quick glare before plastering a smile on his face when he caught Sam and Deans eyes.

“Come on!” Your mother cried with a large smile, “Let us buy you two a drink!”

The two men nodded, allowing the couple to go in front of them before waiting for you to catch up with.

“Are you okay?” Sam whispered, glancing down uneasily at your shoulder.

You nodded stiffly, “I’m fine, it’s only a small scratch.” The blood seeping through your clothes said otherwise, but they knew better than to push.

“Y/n.” Your father snapped.

“Coming, sir.” You hastily called back, avoiding your hunting partner's stares.

Because the two families had just met- Bobby had sent Sam and Dean on a hunt with your lot- the boys didn’t know how much they could say about the obvious and serious matter at hand.

The way you were acting was so familiar to Dean. The titles of respect, wiping away tears, the tough love that didn’t really feel like love at all. You were just like him, in the same situation he had been in with his own father.

You were a living, breathing copy of him from the past.

And that thought saddened and terrified the man at the same time.

-•-

After hitting a local bar with your family, you had all gone your separate ways, but not before Dean had pulled you aside and gave you a burner phone that had his number and the bunker address on it, making you promise to stop by if you ever needed a friend, or a place to stay.

It was a week later, and the man was opening the bunker door with a sigh, grocery bag in one hand and his keys in the other.

The soft sound of chatter and laughter filled his ears, causing his eyebrows to furrow as he drew closer to the balcony that looked out on the floor below him.

There, at one of the tables, sat Kevin Tran and you, sharing a bag of sweets from the kitchen and talking amongst yourselves happily.

Your eyes turned up at Dean, and he couldn’t help but suck in a breath. Around your right eye was a fresh black and blue shiner, but the smile on your face completely contradicted the wound.

It was a smile full of gratefulness and a promise of staring a new. You were finally free from your parents and you had Dean to thank for it.

“Hey, kid,” Dean called, softly smiling, “Welcome home.”

Idjits 👟- @ineedmorefanfics2 @roseblue373

[life-in-the-monster-haus]

Some people have pointed out you can extremely easily pick the lesbian flag out the leaked howleens hair. While this is probably a delightful coincidence I’m wondering how you feel about howleen being the lesbian rep instead of clawdeen? Would it be a nice treat or a cop out?

You super can! Her hair looks like the sunset flag just upside down.

I want GOOD queer rep in Monster High! I want it almost as much as I want diverse body types. I want it so badly. I’ve DUG deep and unearthed some some queer rep crumbs. Zomby Gaga was technically our first Bisexual Doll, Greta Gremlin is technically our first trans doll with Frankie being the second, Neighthan & Valentine we’re both intended and coded to be gay men written by a gay man. But where or… should I say were was our lesbian rep? Garrett proudly declared Clawdeen as a Lesbian and because he was the creator most fans took his word as law… but this didn’t feel like a victory to me, it felt hollow. It bothered me & I couldn’t figure out why, after being called Lesbophobic by a dozen people on Twitter for daring to disagree with Father Monster it hit me! Years prior Garrett was asked outright if he wrote Clawdeen to be a lesbian & he said it was never intended her to be that way but he supports people who see her as gay. NOW fast forward like 2-3 years? Garrett left Mattel, he was not fired he left. Garrett declares Clawdeen as a Lesbian. The timing is important because not only did this come after admitting she was never written to be a lesbian, he said it years after he left Mattel and no longer had any influence on Monster High, Clawdeen was no longer his character. His word now means nothing. This? Was messy and unfair to lesbians who deserve to have good rep! Not just a sloppy afterthought tagged on later. Mattel clearly did not agree & hammered it home in G3 that Clawdeen’s hobby is “flirting with boys” and in the live action movie Deuce is crushing on her and the feeling is mutual. This had to hurt lesbians who see themselves in her and that? Was cruel. (I’m keeping my fingers crossed for Bisexual Clawdeen).

Now! I told you that story to tell you this story: Howleen has never had a canon love interest, she is also 14, these two things are related because in the episode Fierce Crush there is some type of full moon event going on that is making all of the werewolves lovey-dovey. (It’s probably mating season, but this is a kids show.) it's the first full moon of the lunar leap year.

There werewolves are giving their lunas a token of their love, This Crescent Moon High boy gives his ghoul his class ring.

Clawd gives Draculaura his varsity jacket. (someone please draw her absolutely swimming in that jacket pls)

Dee O'Gee gives his luna his... flea collar... how sweet of him...?

and Clawdeen tells Howleen not to fall into that “I gotta get a boyfriend” trap because she is too young. Howleen takes this as great personal offensive & says she’s not in a manner very fitting of someone whose obviously not mature enough to be dating yet. On cue Romulus helps Howleen with her stuck locker & she makes goo goo eyes at him, Clawdeen instantly tries to curb stomp that by gently reminding Howleen that Romulus used to puppy-sit her.

She tells her friend Lothar who...is someone we have never seen before this moment and we will never see again... That she "Really Likes" Romulus. As her friend, he tries to give her good advice and the advice he gives her IS good advice but she messes up and sets Romulus on fire.

But her attempts to impress Romulus are all in vain because apparently he's into.... The Create A Monster Wolf girl!?!?

Sure... Why not?

Anyways Howleen is kinda bummed by this and Lothar comforts her telling her that "If he can't see how furrific you are? then it's his loss"

Which is once again, really good advice. Lothar is pretty wise for someone we've never met before and we will never see again... Pity, we could have used a wise chubby little brother troll doll.

But then oh no! he likes Howleen! but she only see's him as a friend and the episode ends with narration from Frankie that "Romance can be pretty tricky sometimes. For every Monster who wont notice you, There's someone behind you, you're not noticing and someone right behind them" implying this slug girl has a crush on Lothar. WTF she's cute too! give us slug girl little sister doll!

Now NORMALLY I would say this is Howleen expressing an attraction to boys. That's usually my M.O. of ringing that cow bell that she's into boys and that automatically rules out Lesbian but still keeps the door open for her being Sapphic And OH BOY! I’m gonna eat my own words here but part of being being emotionally mature is admitting when your wrong and I don't think this attraction to Romulus is genuine. I think she is just trying to spite Clawdeen which is her usual M.O., Seem more mature than she is and she's probably feeling pressure from this lunar new year thing, I don't think she's actually into Romulus considering It has never come up before this episode and it never comes up again.

And I'm glad it never comes up again because it's fuckin' gross. He's way too old for her and I mean that in a serious way not in my usual "Romulus is absolutely a 45yr old grown ass man" way. He's gigantic and more than likely a High School Senior or even a Super Senior which puts him around 18yrs old and I know 4 years might not seem like much the older we get but that is a huge maturity gap for teenagers and totally inappropriate and possibly illegal I'm not really sure.

SO! Since that is really the only time we see her show an attraction to boys and no, I'm not counting her kissing the eyeball boy in "Why do Ghouls fall in love" that was her under the influence of Cupid's love spell and not real. it doesn't seem like she's into boys, but once she becomes friends with Twyla? they are never apart! and that is freshman shorthand for "I like You" could I be reaching? could be, maybe, it's possible... I'm not a fan of "they're dating just because they hang out a lot" but Twyla is literally the only person she trusts whose not family.

However, this is all circumstantial evidence, she's 14 and may not be into anyone! despite her protests she is still a baby.

But I don't think her being gay would be a "cop out" I think it would be wonderful lesbian rep if they plan her this way! her and Twyla is a huge ship and I find it adorable. there's gotta be SOMETHING there if so many people ship it. normally I don't go with the flow with ships I need something there.

But a lot of gay kids see themself in Howleen and if anyone could be the one to show them it's okay? it would be her. Howleen spent the entirety of G1 trying to find herself.

I think it's time she does.

[takamishinko]

could I pls request the bakusquad with a close FTM friend . their friend is pretty insecure about his chest . he’s also insecure about what people would think of him being trans . how would the bakusquad react if someone Mineta said something nasty to him ? if you’re uncomfortable w/ this request , feel free to ignore it , I don’t want to make you uncomfortable

have a wonderful day / noon / night 💞

sure u can! hope u have a wonderful day/noon/night too :)

perfect

a/n: this is my writing content for ftm readers i hope i don't offend anyone!

pronouns: he/him, ftm!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of pre-transition, transphobic phrases, sexual harassment, and mineta

_____

you were pretty close friends with the whole bakusquad, close enough to the point where they would not hesitate to throw hands if someone messed with you. they know about your situation and they completely accept you for it. 

they all took the news better than you expected. mina was super excited when you first came out to her and even though she had a big mouth she kept yours a secret because she knew how important this was to you, plus you might have not been comfortable about others knowing about it yet. sero was super chill about it and kirishima called you manly right after you came out to him. kaminari on the other hand was having an internal war with himself since he thought you were both pretty and handsome before and after. last but not least, bakugou hit you with a "ha? i don’t care as long as you’re still strong." after you told him.

all the reassuring comments your friends gave you made you feel a lot better about yourself. you had also told some of your other friends in the class like midoriya, uraraka, iida, and asui. they all supported you and since class 1A is pretty open about subjects like this you had nothing to worry about. 

however, just because most people have reassured it didn’t mean that you’d just suddenly  feel better right away. in a way you still felt different. you were still insecure about what other people around you would think about you, especially your chest area since your hero costume made them very obvious that they've gone through transition before. harsh comments from insensitive bastards still scar your mind deeply. their hurtful words pierced through your heart and mind.

"you'll never be a real boy."

"you're not normal." 

words like this break you down bit by bit and destroy your self esteem until you're left feeling worthless and defeated. people like this played a big role in why you never confided anyone in your secret. you feared that they would repeat these words, especially your dear classmates.

after school,  sero, kaminari, kirishima, and bakugou had left to do some training while you, mina, and some other people had stayed behind to help clean up and chill in the classroom. it was a nice way to ease yourself. mina was cheerful and funny teasing uraraka about deku, while you and tsuyu were chattering about the test that you took and guessing what mark you both received. 

you decided to stay behind a little in class after everyone returned to the dorms. you hummed while watching the sunset. it was a good environment to do some studying in, quiet and peaceful, seeing as there was an important test coming up.

you were just about to start packing up after finishing the last question on the review page until you saw a short purple figure pop up next to the door. it was mineta, the class pervert that everyone tried to stay away from. you didn't like mineta obviously, no one did. you didn’t exactly want to talk to him but you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and assumed he wasn’t here to be grotesque.

why was he just standing there eyeing you up and down? an uncomfortable pricking sensation washed over you so while packing up, you decided to speak to break the awkward silence. "hello mineta, can i help you?" 

mineta wore a smug look before the corner of his lips lifted into a snide grin.

"hey~ d/nnn." he mocked, holding the last letter of your previous name.

what..?

your heart fell into your stomach at his words. why the hell was he bringing up your deadname? you balled your shaking fists and tried to calm down before you mauled the smug grape with your quirk.

"it's y/n, and if you don't have anything to say i wanna go back to the dorms." you speak with feigned courtesy as you finished backing up, scooting out of your chair.

"alright alright y/n whatever. say~ what are you doing by yourself all alone in the classroom at this time. perhaps you were waiting for someone?" mineta sing-songed while walking closer to you.

"i was just trying to get some homework finished,” you grit out. “do you mind moving? i would like to leave-" 

before you could even finish your sentence you see drool coming out of minetas mouth and his hands doing the signature grabby grabby while his eyes practically drowned in your chest area.

"you’ve probably got a nice pair of boobs huh? even if they’re flat." 

mineta mentioning that certain body part broke you. the tears immediately started to accumulate under your eyes, on the edge of spilling. you could've easily pushed mineta away due to how much smaller he was than you, but you didn't have the strength to. you felt even weaker than him and didn't have the will to fight back, your limbs being reduced to jelly. you felt helpless.

mineta on the other hand felt powerful, someone like you with a strong quirk being reduced to something akin to a quivering rabbit gave him a sick sense of pleasure. just when mineta was about to place his hands on you a certain spiky haired blonde rushed into the room and lifted mineta away from you.

"OI SMALL FRY! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOUR HANDS GOING HUH??" bakugou snarled at the midget followed with a strong blast.

kirishima, kaminari, and sero quickly ran into the room. mr. aizawa followed up upon hearing the commotion. his eyes scanned over your distressed form before looking over at a shaken mineta. he assessed the situation and let out a sigh, hands pinching the bridge of his nose.

"mineta, my office, right now." he spoke, voice lacking any sort of amusement.

"b-but" mineta stuttered out.

"now."

mineta froze at the tone of mr. aizawa's voice and left the room with him, his head down. before aizawa left he gave you an apologetic look and told you he'd come back later to talk to you. kaminari followed them out to listen in.

kirishima grabbed your arm gently and sat you down on the chair. "y/n you okay man? he didn't touch you anywhere right?" he questioned worriedly.

"i’m gonna turn that guy into a cocoon, i swear." sero followed up.

you were incredibly surprised at what just almost happened. you almost got harassed by a midget grape but thank goodness your friends were there to save you from him.

"thanks guys." you muttered out while wiping away stray tears.

"of course man! we're always here for you, bakugou heard mineta all the way from across the hall when we came back to grab our stuff and immediately rushed over! you should've seen him, it was like he was running for his life!" kirishima said, chuckling. 

bakugou rolled his eyes. "shut up shitty hair, he's in need, of course i’m gonna sprint over. if he ever says that shit to you again, i’ll beat that little fucker up again. 

"well you won't have to worry about that anymore because i went to eavesdrop and mr. aizawa said he’s under house arrest for a long time for attempting to sexually harass a classmate." denki’s cheery voice rings out as he walks into the classroom while pointing finger guns at all of you. 

your eyes lit up from hearing the good news.

"hey y/n if anyone messes with you be sure to let us know ok?" sero smiles as he puts a hand on your shoulder.

"you're like a brother to us and we won't hesitate to fight anyone who dares to do something like what mineta just did." kirishima spoke, grinning.

"you're perfect just the way you are y/n, and we love you for that! who the hell cares about what others think of you. just be yourself and everyone else will love ya." denki followed up with a smirk.

"dunce face is right, don't worry ‘bout anyone else, not even us if you don't want to. if you're still feeling down i can blast dunce face if you want." bakugou said while chuckling evilly. 

the room filled with laughter at kaminari’s protests.  thanked your friends for being there for you. you couldn't have asked for a better friend group than them. after a while, the five of you walk back to the dorms. you smile to yourself while the other four bicker and laugh, you wished to live in this moment forever.

[thesoulesscollection]

Do you think you could write something about trans pregnant Charles? Just like somethings nice like “I’m bringing life into this world like a boss!” Then something like the mood swings kick in and he starts sobbing.

Hi, thank you for the prompt request and I'm really sorry that this took me a while to post but here it is now. I wanted this to be written near perfectly and I had to redo it a few times. Hopefully you'll like it even when I took a slightly different take to this request. Ask box is always open to be flooded 

I know this may not be for everyone due to the understandable personal reasons. As someone trans themselves often feeling like a fraud I do get the discomfort. Simply put, I wanted to explore it as realistically and respectfully as possible with my own feelings towards it. So make sure to read the tags to check or ignore this if it makes you uncomfortable. Your comfort should be top priority here. 

Tw/Tags: BROvert Ops Timeline, Trans Character - Charles Calvin, Trans Pregnancy, Body Dysmorphia, Implied Transphobia, Implied Sexism/Misogyny, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Supportive Henry, Ambiguous Relationships (StickVin; Can Be Seen As Platonic Or Romantic), & Happy/Hopeful Ending 

'Pregnancy. It should be such a joyous time for any young woman. Where you make another life inside yourself. What your body was meant to do. It's so easy, dearie. An absolute cake walk. You will love every second of it' 

Recoiling back, face scrunched up upon hearing the familiar nagging falsely kind voices rang in his head reminded him of his childhood, something he often hoped to forget like how they used to speak in such a patronizing tone. Even when he fought them at every turn, loudly protesting at them that he was meant to be his own person given his own choices to both mind and body yet they would shout over him about the creation of life, it was to be his duty as a woman, how he shouldn't be a defiant wayward child. Bitterly burying the memories, accepting how he was made to be disgustingly uncomfortable in his own skin. Worse, his body was doing what once he vehemently decided to never do in pure spite, to carry another life, one he never would've thought would happen - it was a startling shock to say the least - yet he didn't dare get rid of it. Finally free from the suffocating confines from his prior life he was meant to be living his best life as the man he desired though he was clearly struggling to keep it together. 

So here he stiffly stood in his room alone, arms glued to his side, back aching terribly while stuck in a body altering dilemma he never got the urge to partake in. As he sucked in a breath, Charles witnessed the clothes for today to wear strewn out on his bed, in his head they were mocking him, almost taking twisted enjoyment over his pain. 

His sharp mind was in a foggy haze. What he's experiencing wasn't right. Charles needed to be in control at all times, there were people heavily relying on him to be the best, so he should be positively happy when in truth he was miserable. This got to be the toughest period in his life, unable to wrap his mind around it. 

'Easy my ass... How in the world is this wonderful or beautiful? This is plain awful' In turmoil, Charles groused, red rimmed eyes close to watering yet stubbornly held the tears back, looking like total dog crap, worse knowing for him he was only a few months in. 

"Nothing is going right" Tossing his clothes on haphazardly Charles was smoothing his military jacket, staring at himself in the mirror, far from particularly enjoying what he saw in the reflection he drawled out his pent frustrations, "Everything is going against me here" 

What he saw wasn't nice, at least in his opinion. Years after he's built the desired appearance it was simply going down the drain. In a very weak, pitiful attempt to look smaller he ran his hands down his jacket trying to smooth down the tight, thin lines stretched across his stomach. The round bump kept growing at a decent pace in size over the weeks, unnaturally stubborn it remained no matter what he desperately did to hide his condition, sorely sticking out on his frame. Unable to keep appearances for much longer which left him terribly sickened at the image.

"Hey? Fine there?" Soon hearing the door to his bedroom open slowly, Henry's voice calls out, Charles abruptly turns around almost defensively covering his body, "You're done or…?" 

"I. Uh… Almost, I guess…" 

"You're sure? You've been in here for almost a half hour? We're both going to be late?" 

Deciding to further shield himself, nobody should see him like this even his closest friend so he shamefully wiggled a little to better fit into his bit too tight clothes struggling to zip up his jacket. 

"I… I.. Don't feel good"

"You don't? Is there anything I can do? Do you want me to call the General for you and say you can't come in today? That's totally fine and I can stay behind too to make sure you're alright"

"O-oh. Oh, no. No. I can't call out. Not today or any day, Henry" Charles quickly reacted, taking any time off, a mere single day even when it came to his job, horrified him to no end, "We can't do that… It's been so busy recently with the missions and all that it wouldn't be fair to you or anyone else" 

Raising a brow Henry appears skeptical, taking a cautious step closer scanning the pilot's disheveled appearance, "You're sure it's nothing?"  

Hesitancy grew though Charles just bit his tongue, simply nodding along as he waved off any possible worry. 

"Charles. You know me, right? If there's something wrong, you can tell me" In genuine concern Henry was hovering around Charles, careful to not cross the sensitive line, cool hands barely grazing across the man's stomach, the main target of the lacking confidence. "I know this has been tough for you. I've seen it stress you to the bone since we found out. So this is only a day off. I don't want you worrying yourself sick over this" 

"But I can't" 

"Char. Tell me what you're doing?"

Confused shock came on Charles' burning face, tilting his head until realization kicked in as Henry pointedly motioned towards his stomach, "Wha-Oh"

"Hm. C'mon you got this. There shouldn't be shame in this" 

"... I-I. I'm bringing life into this world…" 

"Like the amazing man you are like the boss you are, heh. You're doing something wonderful… Don't forget that. You're doing good even when you think otherwise" 

Sniffling when caught similarly to a startled little deer in the headlights Charles nibbled at his cheek, his body deciding to speak for itself no longer keeping the waterworks at bay, "... Stupid hormones… You're making me cry, Henry. I c-can't right now…" 

"Nothing wrong with crying. Let those pesky emotions free. It's true what I'm saying, you know? This is like one of your greatest plans. You'll get through this. You're so tough" 

As Charles wept, after wiping the falling tears freely flowing down his puffy cheeks with his balled up fists, he was relieved to express relief for once.