#it kind of felt like i was deadnaming him in a way so i grew to not like the username anymore

[butch-muppet]

ive been considering changing my url for at least a year but never thought of anything until now, when i literally sat bolt upright in bed with the perfect name idea having been dropped into my brain

anyway worfsrozhenko -> butch-muppet

[epsilontauri]

dealing with grief is so fucking wild.

one moment i‘m ok and packing my things into neat little moving boxes, and one second later i‘ll remember how she always greeted me in a sing-songy voice and immediately offered me food, tea or coffee when i walked in.

and then i weep because she’ll never do that again.

i when i‘m somewhat ok again, i‘m telling people around me who never got to meet her who she was, how she was, hoping to make her immortal by planting little parts of her in the knowledge and memory of other people.

like, the way she planted mint in the garden and instead of taking over, it barley grew— she was always so frustrated about it! how does the mint not grow at all?! she just wanted to make fresh mint tea. or the way she managed to keep a huge pot of sage alive without doing anything. how she was concerned every winter for the fern that she planted outside of her kitchen window. how she scribbled into all of her cooking books, especially when she liked a recipe. how she collected and build her own library, but kept mixing classics with fantasy and children’s books.

she wrote poems and short stories. i hope she wrote them all down somewhere and we‘ll manage to find them. she wanted to color her hair in a hot pink once the white hairs were more prominent. she asked her youngest son in the morning how many books she should take with her to read in the hospital after the surgery. she asked her second oldest son what kind of cake he wanted next week for his 33rd birthday. she always let her husband trim her long hair. she wasn’t crafty at all and couldn’t sew to safe her life (it was her husband who would fix everything with the sewing machine) but after she spent one summer looking after her grandmother as a teen, she learned how to knit socks and kept doing that.

she believed that magic is found in nature, and she showed me where to look for it. she was always making sure that everyone is treated fair. she accepted immediately that i‘m non-binary’s without any fuss and called me ain from then on. she even understood how i felt about womanhood and related to it, and she told me she’s probably nonbinary too, and i was almost crying in relief, bc my own mother was just crushed and weeping as if i just died in front of her. one time she was more excited to see me that her 3rd son (my ex), despite haven’t seen him in a long time too, bc i wasn’t around as often after i broke up with him after my outing. she loved harry potter but no longer wanted to read it after i told her about jkr’s transphobia.

and she loved halloween so much! she decorated the house in fake spider webs and was always a bit disappointed that no kids came over for candy, mostly due to the fact that her house is on the very end of a steep road up the hill. she loved moomin. i hesitated taking the mug with moomin-papa bc it was her favourite, but i took it bc she also knew that i liked it a lot. the coffee tasted less bitter in it.

i once tried to embroider her medieval dress and only managed to finish one side, but she was excited nonetheless about my work and proudly announced that it’s my work whenever someone pointed it out. i still have the rings that she gave me as a gift, and she wanted me to inherit a beautiful hand-painted wardrobe from 17-something, just because it was a wedding gift of the girl who happened to share my deadname and she still thought i was meant to have it, even if my name is a different one now.

gods, i miss her so much. she was less like a second mother and more of a friend to me. this shouldn’t have happened. she should be around and complain about the heat and how she gets tired more quickly while reading. she would tell me how this time, she would refuse to do the math exercises during recovery, even if it‘s important to monitor her brain function, and eventually admit that she would do them, but still has the right to complain about it bc of her dyscalculia, and i would send her pictures and videos of my cats to cheer her up.

i wanted to tell her that i found my person and that i‘m engaged and we’re planning to get married. i wanted her to meet my fiancé and see them both talk about movies and art and board games. i looked forward to see her excited smile and feel her crushing hug and her breathless „…but oh ain, that is so wonderful!“ i wanted to share my special interest in danmei with her and give her one of the books to read.

i just want her back. i want her to be around happy and healthy and enjoying retirement with her husband.

but she won’t. she’s gone.

[chaoswithkaycee]

Almost 11 years ago, I graduated high school. I have a million pictures from that day that I could share, but I'm compelled to talk about this one. The man I'm hugging is 1st Sgt Reginald White, a veteran of the United States Army. He was my AJROTC teacher my freshman year of high school, and would have likely been my sophomore AJROTC teacher as well if I'd stayed in the program. This man was pivotal in my learning to both accept and love myself, in ways I didn't understand as a 15 year old kid. Hell, I barely understood how he'd helped me even as I stood there hugging him at 18 years old. I just knew how much I would miss him.

1st Sgt White is no longer there, but before he left, he had moved to an administrative position. I can think of no better place for him than to have been watching over the entire school every day and guiding our youth. Sometimes I wished I could go visit him, just to show him how far I'd come and tell him how right he was about me, but every time I had that thought, I remembered something else he said.

"Don't come back for me."

He said it often. It's one of the phrases on repeat in my head when he crosses my mind.

"Don't come back for me."

He always told us he wanted us to succeed. He wanted us to grow. He didn't care if we joined the military (he even discouraged some of us from it). He didn't care if we got married or raised kids or became CEOs. He said he always wanted us to be successful, kind, and above all - happy. And happiness is not found in reminiscing.

"Don't come back for me. Send me your wedding invitations. Invite me to your kids birthday party. Send me a letter when you're in a movie. But don't come back for me. Don't ever look behind you."

His class was the first one I felt safe enough to be myself in. I was outed in that class by someone who wanted to hurt me, and as my classmates giggled and tittered about it, as I sank in my seat in embarrassment at having been outed and knowing I'd be bullied, he stood up. He grabbed the yard stick against his chalkboard, walked over to the student who outed me, and slammed the yard stick on the students desk so hard that it snapped in half - one piece remained on the desk, while the other piece flew across the room and hit the opposite wall. The classroom was silent. 1st Sgt White stood in front of the student and looked at all of us. "Why does it matter if (deadname) is bisexual? What has changed in the five minutes since before you knew that? Has she harassed any of you? Has she hurt any of you? Has she become less trustworthy, less kind, less friendly, less intelligent? What has changed?" And no one said anything. I tried not to cry. He wasn't done. I've never forgotten this day. "I would serve next to a gay or bisexual person any day of the week. I would put my life in their hands a hundred times over. Do you understand how goddamn brave you have to be, to come out in a world where people like you are murdered, or disowned by their families, or ridiculed by their peers? How much courage it takes to live your truth when the entire world is against you? No, I'd trust a gay person with my life any day, any time."

It was the first time I felt real acceptance of my identity outside of my family. Not tolerance, but true acceptance. Who I was, was good enough. I never forgot it. I reveled in it. I grew in that feeling, with his voice always echoing about how brave I was. I'd visit him often in high school after I left his class - many of my friends were still part of the program, so I'd still see him. He was the only teacher who didn't say anything about me holding my girlfriends hand in his room. When there was a school shooting somewhere else, he'd remind us that anyone who came through that door would have to come through him first, and they'd be lucky if they made it that far. When I tried and failed, he reminded me that my best was all I could give, and that was good enough. When things were tough for me mentally, he always said "Your problems are only unique to you." It took until my senior year for me to understand that phrase. He meant that others have experienced what I've experienced, and I can find community and comfort with those people. He was right.

As I look at this picture, I feel a lump in my throat as I remember the last thing I heard him tell me. As the students name behind me was being called and we were being hustled back to our seats, as parents clapped and cameras snapped photos, he stood in front of me and said "I'm so proud of you. I knew you'd be okay."

And I hugged him. And I cried. And I knew I'd miss him, and I do. But I have so much of myself to thank him for.

So thank you, 1st Sgt White. I did my best, and I'll keep doing my best

[wolvesandwerewolvesbaby]

Umbrella Academy—Viktor’s identity

Tw: discussion of trans identity & deadnames

So. I’ve seen a couple people rewrite their fanfics after Elliot and Viktor’s coming out as trans, and changing season 1 Vanya to Viktor, adjusting the pronouns to be respectful. It’s thoughtful, but I’m not sure it’s necessary. Sort of a ‘he’s a little confused but he’s got the right spirit’ meme, maybe? And here’s what I mean:

Viktor is trans, which means there was a point in his life that he used she/her pronouns and a different name. I think changing the character he used to be to reflect who his character currently is, is sort of…unnecessary? Because it implies that his past happened in a different way, and to me sort of implies that he has gone by the name Viktor and the pronouns he/him even in previous seasons…almost implying that he’s always been Viktor. Which isn’t true. Even if Viktor (and Elliot) was always trans, if he was always sort of aware of something uncomfortable in his identity, that doesn’t mean he was always Viktor—he had to figure out who he was, and come to terms with his identity and relax into it. It’s a sort of character development that follows behind the actor’s personal identity and coming out.

Years ago, (and I wish I could find it, but I will look around for it) I read an article by a trans man, and essentially it was: I am proud to be trans. In pride, there’s always a lot of gay specific pride (as there should be) but he said trans pride was still sort of misunderstood by cis people, even if they were both cis and queer. Sort of a, who would want to go thru transition/assuming that a trans man would be happier if he had been born as a man?. But the thing is, he was not just proud to be a man, he was proud to be a trans man—and while he’s dealt with dysphoria, he never felt that he was necessarily born in the wrong body. He was a little girl and he did little girl things and he made friends with other little girls; he identified as a girl. And as he grew, and he came into his own identity, that changed and he started going by he/him pronouns—but he said he wasn’t ashamed of his past as a girl, and he was proud to be a trans man specifically. He loved the girl he used to be. He’s proud she started questioning herself and transitioned to become a boy. That doesn’t mean he wishes he were born as a boy. He liked being himself, as he was; someone who used to be a girl, but wasn’t anymore. All of his experiences pulled together to make him who he was, and if he had been born as a boy, he would have had different experiences, and maybe even a different identity.

I guess what I’m saying is, it sort of feels like erasing that past of Viktor as a girl sort of dismisses that he is a trans man even while it reiterates that he is a man. it’s okay to refer to Viktor’s past self as someone who used to go by she/her in the past, even while respecting who he is and always was.

And to over explain myself, let’s say for instance, if it was Luther who had Viktor’s line during the bachelor party, he could have said, ‘Remember when I used to marry Viktor’s action figures when we were kids?’ And that would have been correct and respectful, because otherwise he would be deadnaming his brother. But if they had decided for some reason to show a flashback of that scene, and shown a little Luther getting caught by another little boy labeled Viktor—that would be confusing and disingenuous and maybe even a little inadvertently disrespectful. Because it would be implying, just like rewriting season one or two fanfiction, that Viktor has always been Viktor, or that he is a cis man, when he isn’t and that isn’t a bad thing. But it’s also not something to hide or change. It’s not only okay to be trans, but I think it’s worth celebrating.

I hope all this makes sense.

That having been said, I don’t think it’s necessarily wrong to be rewriting your fanfiction—it’s fanfiction. You can do literally whatever you want to with it. I think it’s actually sort of kind. And that not every trans person is the same, and maybe some would even prefer it, so do whatever you think fits. I just think the points above are something to consider, at least.

To note: Currently, I don’t think that I’m trans, but I’m sure that I’m queer, even if I don’t quite know who I am yet. so if anyone who is trans would like to reply with any input, go ahead.

[the-gay-prometheus]

Frankenstein AU Segment: “Always You”

I promised some gay shit today so have some gay shit.

Warning: it is extremely gay, I think.

This lil segment is Henry and Victor being silly and dumb and not realizing until just now that they are desperately in love with each other, and I think that is very gay of them.

Anyways actual little mini warning for this one: Victor refers to his assigned gender at birth and also mentions his deadname at one point in this segment. I know for some trans folks, reading things where a trans person makes a reference to their AGAB and/or their deadname it can be triggering, hence why I’m making this warning just to be on the safe side. The entirety of this segment is genuinely wholesome though, so no other warnings needed to my knowledge.

On a completely different and random note, “In A Week” by Hozier is officially Victor and Henry’s love song, and no I will not be accepting constructive criticism on that.

As always, likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are greatly appreciated!

~~~

The peaceful song of crickets chirping was interrupted only by the occasional trilling call of a boreal owl which seemed to echo across the cliffs and peaks. Above the gnarled branches and wispy needles of the pines the moonless sky was illuminated by uninterrupted glimmering starlight. Victor and Henry lay atop a massive boulder they had climbed in the midst of the woods, savoring the moment alone together as they stared up through the canopy above into the shimmering heavens, each with their hands folded over their chests. Though Henry was entirely still, Victor tapped his fingers against the back of his other hand as he picked through the millions of thoughts racing through his head. “You shouldn’t stay,” he mentioned suddenly. Henry glanced over at him. After a long pause, Victor continued. “I mean you shouldn’t stay here. You’ve… you’ve got your whole life ahead of you.”

“So do you,” Henry answered, turning onto his side and resting his elbow on the stone and his head on his palm. Victor turned to look at him.

“No, not really. I made my choice, Henry. I made a mistake, and this is my burden to bear - not yours. You shouldn’t be throwing your life away for my sake.”

“Victor - you know I’ve always got your back,” Henry replied, giving him a comforting smile. “I really don’t mind it.”

“I know that but… it’s not fair to you.” Victor rested his head back and stared up to the  sky, and Henry laid back to do the same. “You should be finishing your studies at Ingolstadt, or traveling the world, or finding some beautiful woman to settle down with.” Henry tensed as he spoke, but didn’t answer. “I’m thankful that you’re here with me, and it really has been wonderful and I can never repay you for how much you’ve helped but… it kills me to think I might be causing you to miss out on all the things you wanted in life.” There was a long moment of silence between them, and Victor began to grow restless, tapping his fingers against the back of his hand again. “Do you… not agree?” Henry tensed more, then let out a sharp exhale.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Victor blinked, then turned on to his side and sat up slightly.

“Of course!” he exclaimed. “It’s… not like I really have anyone to divulge it to other than… well… you know who. And he certainly doesn’t have anyone to divulge it to.” Henry gave him a half smile, then turned his hazel eyes back to the sky.

“Victor I… I have-” He hesitated. “I’m… I mean I- I’m-” He pinched at the bridge of his nose, then dropped his arms to his sides. “I have no interest in women.” Victor glanced over at him, then lay back down and returned his own gaze to the stars.

“Oh.” Henry cringed, expecting some kind of other reply, but relaxed slightly as Victor spoke again. “Well… that’s fine. You still shouldn’t stay. I know you always wanted to finish your studies and travel the world at least. I don’t want to hold you back.” Henry swallowed hard and clenched his eyes shut.

“That’s not what I mean Victor.”

“Then what did you mean?” he asked, glancing back over at him.

“I… I have no interest in women because I-” Henry hesitated again. “My only interest lies in… other men. It… it always has.” Victor looked upward once again.

“Ah.” His eyes widened. “Oh!” Henry cringed at this response. He wasn’t sure why he was so afraid but… part of him was terrified. Victor suddenly sat up, a look of revelation on his face. “That’s a possibility?” Henry’s eyes snapped open and he looked up at him.

“You say that like you didn’t know.”

“Well- how was I supposed to know? It’s not like I’ve ever... seen it before.” Henry gave him an odd look.

“...What about Percy and Alex?”

“Who?”

“Back in Ingolstadt? Your classmates? You can’t tell me you didn’t know. It was obvious! Not… that they were necessarily public about it, and for good reason, but the way they looked at each other and talked to each other, there was no way they were anything less than lovers.” Victor frowned and glanced over at him.

“You assume I paid any attention to my classmates.” Henry blinked.

“...Oh. Yes that… that’s certainly a good point.” He shook his head. “Regardless! Why… why wouldn’t it be possible? If a man can love a woman, why can’t he love another man?” Victor thought for a moment.

“Well this… this changes everything,” he muttered, eyes still wide. Henry glanced away, suddenly worried again.

“...How so?”

“Well - it means I’m… I’m not broken!” Victor exclaimed, suddenly grinning. Henry snapped his gaze over to him.

“What?” Victor turned, sitting fully upright with his legs crossed and his fingers tapping excitedly on his thighs.

“Henry. After all I’ve done, after everything I’ve made of myself, after all the changes, there was one thing that always continued to irk me. I have changed my name, altered my body, filled myself with the correct chemicals, and yet despite all of that, one thing never changed. Even though I had finally become the person I knew I needed to be, I still was attracted to men!” Henry’s own eyes grew wide. “I had simply chalked it up to being some sort of strange flaw, that maybe I hadn’t perfected myself enough, that I hadn’t entirely rid myself of my… my…” He hesitated, as though he didn’t want to say it. “My womanhood - but no! Perhaps it has nothing to do with my sex!” Henry couldn’t help but chuckle at that statement.

“You really thought your attraction was tied to your sex?” Victor shrugged, then nodded, prompting another quiet laugh from Henry. “Victor, have I ever mentioned you are by far the most intelligent imbecile I know?” Victor smirked.

“Not in those words exactly, but something akin to that, yes.” 

“Victor Frankenstein, ladies and gentleman, brilliant scientist capable of creating life from death, entirely incapable of understanding human attraction,” Henry announced sarcastically, throwing his arms wide as he spoke with a big grin. Victor snickered and batted his hand away.

“Oh hush, Henry, the poet who couldn’t figure out the difference between a daisy and a dandelion,” he mused in return. Henry sat up.

“Hey! I know the difference! I just… got the names confused!” he exclaimed. Victor laughed, and flopped back onto his back, Henry laying back down beside him.

“Sure you did,” Victor retorted with sarcasm, glancing over at him. The two regained their composure as their giggles faded back to quiet smiles, though Victor’s smile quickly faded. He let out a sigh. “Well… regardless, Henry. You really should go. Go study, go explore, go find a kind man to settle down with. Live the life I’ll never get to have.” Henry’s own smile faded as his mind suddenly raced, trying to think of how to respond. “I’ll be ok here on my own. I promise.”

“But… Victor I-” Henry’s heart began to pound in his chest. Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it, he repeated in his mind as his pulse quickened. Despite the repetition, though, he glanced back over to Victor. His breath caught in his throat. “I’ve already done those things.” Victor looked over at him, confused, his own heart seeming to skip a beat.

“...What do you mean?”

“Well… I’ve travelled - maybe not around the world, but I traveled to Ingolstadt. I may not have finished my studies but I certainly came close enough. And…” He turned his face away. “I’ve… I’ve already found a kind man to settle down with.” Victor felt his heart shatter in his chest upon hearing those words, and he turned away.

“...I see,” he muttered dejectedly. “Then you should go to him. Go to him and live your life with joy.” Henry looked back over at him, feeling terror clawing at his chest as he mulled over whether he should or shouldn’t reveal himself.

“You… you don’t understand Victor.” Victor turned back toward him, his own eyes already starting to fill with tears of worry. “It’s… it’s you. It’s always been you.” Victor blinked away his tears, his eyes widening as he suddenly felt as though his heart stopped. He was frozen - stunned - and his face turned bright red as he blushed. Henry, seeing this reaction, grew tense and turned away. “I’m sorry- I’m so sorry I- I didn’t mean to make things strange between us. I shouldn’t have said anyth-” He was cut off as suddenly he felt Victor’s fingers upon his cheek, gently coaxing him to return his gaze to him.

“Henry I… I misspoke,” Victor whispered softly. Henry clenched his eyes shut, fearing the worst. “When I said I was attracted to men, what I should have said was… I am attracted to a man.” He hesitated as Henry slowly opened his eyes. “It was always you, Henry. Always.” For a moment the two stared deep into each other's eyes, their fears falling away as they finally began to realize the intensity of the connection between them, until Victor suddenly pulled back and gave Henry an odd look. “Wait. No- no. You’re lying. You have to be lying.” Henry’s eyes widened with shock.

“I- Victor I just bared my soul to you. Do you genuinely think I would lie about something like that?”

“Well… no. But it makes no sense. If you always knew you were interested solely in men, then how could you have always been interested in me? Good god Henry, when we first met I wasn’t even Victor, I was Emily Frankenstein, the strange girl who refused to wear a dress and practiced needlepoint while sitting out in the mud!” Henry’s shock dissolved into a short huff of laughter at the memory of seeing that younger, drastically different version of his boyhood crush, with long, frizzy dark brown hair (a far cry to his now short and messily cut hair) sitting in the mud by the lake wearing boys’ clothing while intently working on an embroidery that read ‘Alchemy is Relevant’ with the symbol for the philosopher’s stone above it - young Victor’s way of spiting his father.

“You know how you thought you were flawed because somehow despite everything you still felt attraction toward men?” Henry asked. He paused, then smiled. “Attraction to me, I guess.” Victor frowned slightly.

“Yes?”

“Well… that’s how I felt when I first met you. It was so bizarre to me. Up until that point, I had never understood the other boys my age, all pining over young girls while I was admiring which of them was the most handsome. And then I met you, and even though I was so sure of myself and who I was, you turned it all on its head. For the first time I wasn’t just admiring, I was fully, deeply enthralled by someone. I simply chalked it up to the fact that, perhaps this just meant I finally found the right girl, like my father always said I would, and that maybe everything I thought I knew was wrong. And yet… I continued to find myself admiring only other boys my age, and no other girls. I was so deeply conflicted - until that day years later when you returned after having run away and confided in me that you had come to realize you were never meant to be a girl at all,” he explained. Victor’s expression softened.

“So… what you’re saying is… you… you knew all along? Before I was even aware of my own identity?” Henry thought for a moment, then smiled.

“Come to think of it, I suppose maybe I did! I’ve… never really thought of it like that before.” Victor stared at him for a moment, then lay back again, smiling brightly. Henry smiled back at him, and lay beside him again - though moving a bit closer this time.

“Then I suppose we were never broken after all,” Victor remarked. “All this time, we knew each other far better than we ever realized. I’ve never much believed in soul mates, but… considering this evidence, I’m almost considering rethinking my stance on that,” he concluded half jokingly. 

“You jest, but… you have to admit it might have some merit,” Henry pointed out as he stared calmly up at the sky. “How truly remarkable that the stars should align for us to meet, that the strings of fate should tie us together so neatly and that we should lead each other, even if unknowingly, into the light that is living our truths. We may have no evidence for the existence of some higher power, but there is proof that the world works in mysterious and wonderful ways that even science cannot define. Our very existence is such a specific rarity, a mere blip on the scale of time, and somehow here we are, together, here, now.” Victor turned on his side, lifting himself up slightly as he stared in awe and admiration as Henry spoke. “We are miracles, Victor, common miracles yet miracles all the same. There is so much we have to learn and to discover about the world and about ourselves, and how brilliant it is that we should have the chance to do so together, and to lift each other up to be the very best versions of ourselves that we can be. We-” He suddenly was cut off as Victor was suddenly leaning over him, propping himself on one hand that rested on Henry’s other side, his light brown eyes staring down into his hazel ones with a gaze of pure wonder. He shuddered, his heart suddenly fluttering in his chest as he looked up at him, and he gasped softly as Victor placed his unoccupied hand onto his cheek and brushed a long strand of ginger hair away from his eyes.

“Is it too early?” Victor inquired in a quiet whisper. Henry pressed his face into Victor’s hand.

“Too early for what?” Victor hesitated.

“Is it too early to say I... I-” Henry grinned, breathing deeply and slowly shaking his head as he lifted a hand and placed it on Victor’s cheek.

“I love you too,” he murmured. They stayed frozen for a moment, silence returning between them as the creatures of the night continued to sing their songs and the trees creaked softly in the breeze. As they searched each other’s eyes for some unspoken answer to some unheard question, it was Victor who suddenly leaned down, his pulse racing as his lips locked with Henry’s. At first Henry’s eyes widened, but his eyelids fluttered closed as he lifted his hand higher and gently gripped Victor’s short, messy brown hair between his fingers, softly pulling him in closer. Though it only lasted a moment, it felt like a blissful eternity before they slowly broke away, both of them shaking with the joy and excitement of it all. As Victor lay back on his side, he wrapped his arm around Henry tightly, and Henry moved closer, wrapping his own arm around him. They lay contentedly in each other's embrace, silently staring at one another as though there was nothing else in the world they’d rather see than each other’s eyes. That was, until, a sudden cry from just outside the forest jolted them both upright. Victor let out a soft sigh, and slowly started to rise to his feet.

“I’ll be back,” he muttered disappointedly. Henry gave a sympathetic smile as he stood as well.

“No, I’ll come with you.” Victor hesitated a moment before descending the boulder and landing on the ground with a soft thud, Henry following close behind.

“You don’t have to. I’m sure it’ll only be a moment,” he mentioned. Henry took his hand and squeezed it tightly.

“And I don’t want to lose a single moment to spend with you,” he murmured, leaning forward and tenderly kissing Victor’s cheek. Victor blushed and smiled sheepishly.

“If you insist-” He was cut off by the sound of a sudden loud sob. “Come on. It sounds like one hell of a nightmare,” he mentioned as he began to lead the way back to their cabin home.

“Sometimes I think you make a surprisingly good father, despite everything between the two of you,” Henry mentioned as they exited the trees. Victor gave a contented sigh as they came upon the dwelling and he reached for the door.

“You really think so?” he asked quietly as they walked in and continued toward where they could hear his creation now quietly crying inside. “Well… at least I won’t have to do it alone now.” He paused just outside the door to the creature’s room, looking back at Henry. “You will stay, won’t you?” Henry chuckled softly, gripping Victor’s hand tighter.

“Oh, Victor,” he murmured, leaning forward and resting his forehead against his. “From the day I first got here, I never wanted to leave.”

[nico-no-talk]

I have decided to make more headcanons of the gang and maybe go more in depth to a particular one that we may all know of

Sunny

As I said before, this boy can fit so much autistic symptoms

His parents are quiet close with their kids but it seems like they messed some things up like parents do: Mari is somewhat a perfectionist and Sunny may have undiagnosed autism

Quickly headcanoning Sunny's name might be Hikaru or any name that means light

ANYWAY, as he grew up, the more he verbally opened up to his friends and still uneasy with his family, except for Mari.

Sunny likes to play with toys like any other kid does but he only likes toys that he can role play with such as his stuffed toys and building blocks that he can make homes for

When he was in this 11th year of being alive, his parents got rid of his building blocks as a way to help him 'grow up' since what kind of 11-year old play with building blocks still? They didn't touch his stuffed toys since they knew he would kick and scream way more than with his blocks

Sunny was devastated when he learned his parents tossed his blocks and cried for weeks that his friends, his stuffed toys, didn't have homes anymore

Mari decided to earn money with Hero's help to get him a new set so he won't be sad anymore, and knew he liked the feeling of smooth wood against his skin

After his 12th birthday party, Mari asked to not toss this set out and just keep it for any kids that Mari and Sunny may have in the future. Even Mari wasn't sure if Sunny would want kids, but it was something that managed to convince their parents

Speaking of Sunny speaking, he is somewhat semi-verbal around his friends but he does talk most of the time with them since he felt like it doesn't hurt when talking to them unlike with the rest of his family.

Speaking of family again, Mari's name might be short for Mariko since the transition to the 'ko' may have been difficult for Sunny to pronounce but her name might actually be Mari since it is a Japanese name as it does mean 'real logic' if written in a certain way

Their parents may have gotten a speech therapist for Sunny to help him pronounce words better and so the other adults will stop saying things how strange he is

Stims includes, minor biting, finger snapping, whistles, finger tapping, hand flaps, and random noises. Why random noises? Because I do too

Post-canon, Sunny's mom decided to actually get him diagnose and help him out more so he can graduate in school quickly since he did drop out of middle school

He did managed to get back in school within his age-grade and goes to separate rooms during testing for his classes

For long weekends, he tries to visit his friends as often as he can, especially Kel since he likes the way Kel's hair feels and enjoys feeling the callousness on his hands

Mari

Mari Mari Mari

She is a perfectionist, even towards herself since he parents often compared Sunny to her, saying how Mari was able to do a lot of things when she was Sunny's age

Seeing how they made her a goal for Sunny, she tried to be the perfect image of what it is to be normal

Do after school activities, have hobbies, play music, have friends, fall in love, have long hair since she's a girl and he's a boy, only like boys and show him to only like girls, so on and so on

After the building block incident, thats when she realizes that Sunny will never be a 'normal' kid and go out of her way to make his life easier. She'll continue to be his role model but for a new and better reason

She bought him some of his stuffed toys since he liked the texture, picked out clothes that he liked but had to make the tough choice of getting him 'normal' looking clothes so he won't get bullied, eat any of the food he hates, continued to play the piano since he likes the sound, is happy that she stopped softball because he hated going out to her games because of how loud it is and it felt cramped to him, and so many other things

When hanging out with the gang, Mari allowed herself to relax and not focus on Sunny

Kel

Middle child syndrome screams

Despite it being just being him and Hero for the longest time, he was still an afterthought for his parents when it comes to Hero and Sally

He didn't mind. He thought thats how parents are with multiple kids. Sunny's parents were kind of the same as his so he thought he was right but Basil's didn't make any sense

Like everyone else, he has never met Basil's parents and thought they just worked all day and play with Basil at night

But Basil said it wasn't, so it confused him more but he stopped questioning it after thinking about it for a while

As Kel gotten older, the more he realizes that he sort of has 'jumpies' like Sunny does but it was different. It helped him feel less tighten-up and felt better

He asked Hero during on of his visits, Hero explained that Kel may have ADHD or ADD.

"Oh" it clicked

Kel wanted to do something 'smart' on his own for once and decided to research on his own about himself and Sunny

He learned lots of things and became more open minded about a lot of things: gender, sexuality, neurodiversity, polyamory relationships, religion, and many other things

Hero

Biggest Asexual with Mari as well

Only became an overachiever because he loved the praise he got from everyone

Honestly, I dont got much for Hero, sorry man

Aubrey

Bisexual energy

Her father made sure she was a perfect little girl: wears dresses and skirts, like pink, wears a bow all the time, keep herself neat, come home right after school and ask first if she wants to keep playing, not playing with boys especially the rough playing boys

After loosing her shoe and meeting everyone, she decided to stay around them and be herself: rough housing, wear blue, wear spare shorts that either Mari, Sunny, or Kel may have, take off her bow as often as possible, be out of the house as possible to be with her friends, and may have a crush on an older girl you see almost everyday

When her dad left, everything came down: mom gave up, money became tight, Mari is gone, no one is around with her, and start doing things she never done before because of obligated morals

She started dating Kim, hung out with the hooligans, wore 'less' clothing, rude, crude, tomboy, carried weapons, and dyed her hair

Post-canon, she stopped some of her bad habits: wore clothes that are modest whenever she felt like it, a little more polite but still a little rude, stopped carrying weapons, and kept the pink hair in memory of Mari. Still dating Kim since she loves her more than anything in the world

Basil

Who the fuck names their kid Basil? His name was probably Jermey and just he liked the word Basil so much that he said a lot instead of his birth name. He got the name Basil since it was the first thing he planted

For years, no one in the gang knew Basil was a nickname, just accepted that his name was Basil and his parents just liked plants, not realizing his parents are not around a lot

Bet you anything, since Basil vents to Sunny a lot, he may have talked to him about sexuality and gender a lot with him, coming out to him as gay and might be non-binary in some way, still wasn't sure

Sunny was the one he told that Basil was a nickname but he wants to be his actual name

"But, your name has always been Basil, hasn't it?" Sunny asked

Basil had vowed to protect Sunny at all costs since that day and also be proud of himself no matter what and to always introduce himself as Basil, no matter how scared he was

Post-canon, after being in the hospital and some for of mental hospital for some time, after being officially released, Basil came out to everyone else

"Wait, so Basil was a name you picked this whole time?! That is so cool!" Kel cheered as he lifts Basil up in the air in joy

No one dared to ask what his deadname was and use whatever pronouns he asks them to use: He/They but still struggles to respond to they/them pronouns since he never told anyone else other than Sunny

Annnnnnnd thats all I got. Feel free to ask more from me

[forgetfulmachineart]

Jonmartin childhood friends au where they meet while Martin just figured out he's trans and he's trying to figure out a good name for himself ("Sam? No. Tom, Tommy, Tim sounds kind of nice. Maybe Jon" "That's my name!"). Jon calls Martin whatever name he's feeling that day ("Good morning, Chris" "Michael" "Good morning, Michael. Anyways have you heard about the history behind grape ice cream-")

They go to different schools, having met at a nearby beach back when Martin's mother was in good enough health to take him, and got off to a rough start. Martin just wanted to spend time with his mother but she brushed him off after half an hour and his wanderings led him to a scrawny boy his age reading a book. Jon didn't care to be interrupted but Martin seemed genuinely interested in what he was reading and they spent the rest of the day talking about the deep sea. Later, they found out they lived close enough that Martin didn't mind biking to Jon after school. They started hanging out everyday, only really having each other, and went back to the beach some weekends.

Martin was worried that they would rarely see each other after he started having to go home earlier to take care of his mum but Jon surprised him by taking the time to walk there himself so that they could still hang out.

Until one week Jon stopped showing up.

Neither of them have phones; Martin because he couldn't afford it and Jon because his grandmother never really thought it was that important to have. Martin spent weeks by himself. Well, not by himself. He still went to school and had his mother (though she talked to him less and less and barely looked at him) but none of them were Jon and he didn't have time to go over. He kept cycling through names and started a list for the next time Jon came over. If he came over. Maybe Jon just grew bored of him or thought he wasn't worth the trouble anymore. Martin was used to that, people leaving.

Then Jon shows up again eyes haunted and looking frightened. He looked so scared that he didn't even bother knocking on Martin's door, just waiting outside until Martin almost tripped over him on his way to school. Neither had time to explain anything before police rolled up telling Jon that his grandmother was looking for him.

"I'm moving," Jon rushed to say.

"W-what? Where? Why?"

"There was a book and- and- spiders and no one believes me but Grandma says we have to go. I don't know where," Jon sniffled. "I'll miss you, Blackwood." The name they defaulted to whenever Jon hadn't been around in a while.

"Martin," Martin said. That wasn't a name on the list he made, dozens of monikers long, but it felt right in the moment.

"Martin," Jon repeated. "Martin Blackwood."

They hug one last time, both hiding crying faces.

Martin didn't bother going to school that day. His mother wasn't very happy with that so he didn't do it again, but even being surrounded by so many people he felt so bitterly alone. Then her health got worse. School didn't matter so much anymore.

He got jobs where they could accept him and applied for places where they couldn't. Disgust filled him when he put his deadname on resumes until he realized he didn't have to. At least there was some fun in that.

Chris, Marius, Timothy, Hector, Michael, Noah, (Jon once but that felt too much like theft), Nick were all names he started putting on resumes. "Martin K Blackwood" on the one he sent to the Magnus Institute. And he was accepted.

Becoming an Archival Assistant was a promotion that came out of the blue but not one that he would ever turn away. The name of his new boss was...hmm. Surely it wasn't the same. Even after all these years, the name Jonathon Sims made his heart leap, childhood friend turned childhood crush.

At least there was a cute dog! And-- Oh shit

...

Looks like it was Jon.

But there was no recognition in his eyes after Martin told him his name. That was okay, Martin was used to people forgetting him.

[anthonyreadsthecards]

Well lovely friend it is review time but before I go into it I want to say that should you ever want that reading, feel free to come my way and I'd be happy to do it for you. After all, you have helped me a LOT over this at least year since I got to be graced with your account. That may sound dramatic but it means a lot to get insight on a situation from someone just neutral and looking from the outside within.

Tw: mentions of abuse, family issues, gaslighting, manipulation, deadnaming, misgendering, there just is a lot tbh.

As for the review though: Once again you knocked it out of the park. It seems since he and I even first met (we had a VERY rocky start to our relationship as I only actually met him when I was about 6 1/2 years old), it feels like I was just fighting an uphill battle and losing immensely. To try and do this in a way that won't accidentally throw anyone in a loop via triggers, my dad definitely was a king at finding different ways to abuse me. Verbally, emotionally, mentally, you name it he did it. He was EXTREMELY neglectful to where I know if I was wise and called DCF, he would have definitely gotten in trouble, to the point where I most likely would not have been in his care. Why I never called or told anyone? I felt so afraid he would get mad because of his reputation being ruined.

Truth be told I was in denial for years I had any real "daddy issues" but it definitely is hitting me hard. As all my friends over the years would say, he was the "typical Asian dad (he is Korean; note: not all Asian parents are like this and I know that)" who literally would punish me in cruel and unusual ways or basically "discipline me" to leave it vaguely should I get anything lower than an A. He told me that if I was not trying to be a doctor, lawyer, or anything that made money, I'd forever be picking up garbage off the side of the road and I'd be in and out of jail like my mother, brother, and sister (my brother and sister are my half siblings, I was his only child). This has been about 20 years almost of him just using me, abusing my kindness and the issues between hin and I run deep and his side of the family essentially just blames his cerebral palsy for his lack of empathy and care while I grew up and literal neglect. Like, I'm sorry but who fights with a kid over lunch money or having more than Dustin's (a BBQ place) leftovers in the house to eat? Or to fight with them over things like school supplies and clothes because kids grow???

Ironic enough? I got SUPER lucky that I had some very kind friends who noticed I was in a VERY bad place mentally and I had actually done it to where I cut that side of the family off temporarily. My mom's side of the family despite not being that much better were kind enough to protect my location and would not let them near me, but they called my work constantly where one of the friends and I worked as my dad is one of the supervisors of the entire place and so kuch so that he almost got my friend fired and my boss even was about ready to call the cops.

So I caved. I felt guilty because at the time our relationship was decent enough and really it was my aunt I got very concerned over about other frightening stuff. So I finally talked to them all again and guess what? Nothing changed. I had a literal mental breakdown and they basically accepted the answer but still said it was not a good reason. To them? Literal depression that just keeps getting worse because of what my dad and his family does does not matterbeven if they say it does. Even when I have many times told them the things they say and do hurt me, they claim they are not at fault.

Now here we are again. This past year, nothing has changed and it is just slowly getting worse again. My dad scrutinizes every little thing I do. He deadnames me, misgenders me, and so much more despite him supposedly accepting that I am genderfluid and am not comfortable with my deadname and so forth. The only person who did actually care was my halmeoni (my grandmother aka his mom). I even expressed that I didn't get time with her like my cousins did and feel like the only way I can really keep myself connected with her was to learn Korean culture and the language because otherwise I did not feel Korean enough. He flat out told me if I wanted to be Korean so bad I could go to South Korea but she chose to come to America so I should be happy.

Especially as of late, my depression once again has gotten worse. It's so much so that I cannot recall a time I was actually free from it and of course, signs around me begin just popping up around me about how I just need to leave it all behind. Music for me is a big one, but I have seen it in films, media I consume and more. Literally just went to a concert for Aurelio Voltaire and I had been a fan of his for almost 15 years and he told us all his story about how heeft a toxic environment because he literally was going to if you will- commit unalive until he met some very helpful people and left. I NEVER heard that story of his but it hit me hard that night and now his song Raised by Bats is something I take solace in. I already wanted to move, but this gave me more reason at the time to do so. Shoot, I am even sure Odin whom I had not entirely had contact with lately due to me trying to get my medical issues sorted even slapped some hints right at my face too. This right here? This reading just is the final straw on the camel's back. For years I was the friend who would help others leave toxic families and relationships of any kind and give them a shoulder to cry on. Me? It is hard for me to do it myself. I always felt crazy whether I just was over exaggerating or not on his twists from what seems like a supportive father to a monster. Even friends who once respected him now tell me to leave. So thank you for this. This really helps put the nail in the coffin on what kind of game plan I need to make and I truly feel like me meeting Voltaire and seeing this after is definitely some divine knock on the door. I got to talk to Voltaire after the show too and he told me the story of a character in his book he was making, there was a character in his book with my name (just one letter differently but his name is Artorius not Artorias) who originally worked with the villains and he was the first to see that everything went too far. That enough was enough.

So to anyone else that is in my shoes and can try to leave such things? I'll give you the same words Voltaire gave me in hopes it helps:

"Enough it Enough. It's time to leave now."

Ok first things first you get a hug because...just damn my guy that breaks my heart that you had to go through that. Thank you for sharing your story with me and with whomever else reads this post. I understand wanting to hold out but you said it yourself a parent wouldn't act this way to their kid. I wish you all the best and I hope that you can find a place where you can be away from him and flourish with the people who truly do love you. Thank you, for all of this, and have a wonderful rest of your week.

[omegasmileyface]

some distant tommy ghoulatta backstory :)

[HLVRAI Danny Phantom AU]

warnings: death mention

words: 2299

AO3 link

===

Feb 1965, Wagon Mound, NM

G-Man looked at the dry, historic town around him as he pulled his truck into the parking lot of a church. He was staying in a cheap hotel a few towns away, where he had first seen all that supernatural stuff as a kid. He had come back to ask around for local stories and try to get some semblance of research done himself, and he was lucky enough to hear about a guy in this town who was supposedly obsessed with ghosts. After getting his address and name — Benjamin Fischer — from a local at a diner who was intrigued by G-Man's search, he set off immediately.

Fischer's house was close to the church, so G-Man got out there and walked the rest of the way. It was uncomfortably hot with his jacket on so close to the desert, but he knew how quickly that could change.

The house was small and modern, with an unkempt yard and a cross visible in the blinded window. After G-Man knocked on the door, he investigated the porch. Despite the lack of attention to appearance everywhere else, lush bushes were kept in pots by the door. They bloomed with deep, pinkish-red rose-like flowers despite the time of year.

A man, presumably Benjamin Fischer himself, opened the door.

"Hello. I've heard you've been doing some research on spirits and the supernatural?" G-Man said, quelling the slight intimidation he felt with the confidence of a man on a mission.

Fischer raised his eyebrow. "Who are you, exactly?"

Aw, crap. He was so excited he forgot to introduce himself. "Sorry. You can call me G-Man. I'm looking to do some research myself, and I need a better jumping off point."

Fischer looked amused, but didn't stop frowning. "Do you have a real name?"

"I've been going solely by G-Man these last few years."

The older man smiled wryly. "Well, boy, I try to keep my research to myself. I can give you some advice, but that's about all."

G-Man's brow furrowed, and he forced his face back into a more neutral expression. "Advice would be wonderful," (though he doubted it was anything he hadn't heard before), "but why don't you share your research? The more people know about what's out there, the more we can be equipped for it."

Fischer looked to the side and scowled. "There are people here who think I'm crazy, or better yet, some kind of Satan worshipper. I'm sure they'd like to see what I've found and make all sorts of trouble for everyone in town trying to 'disprove' it. Hell, there are people who'd take what I've done, use it against me, and then take it for their own."

"Ah... could I help you with your research then? I have no intention of letting anything found by either of us into the wrong hands."

"Sorry, kid, not looking for an assistant at the moment. You'll have to look somewhere else. And that advice, before you go — ghosts are more than just the impressions of people who used to live. Trust your instincts, they're closer to spirits than your brain."

G-Man frowned and thanked the man before reluctantly walking back toward the church. He could probably spend the night searching for anything supernatural in this town, but he'd have to go back by morning. Maybe he'd come by some other time and pester Fischer again.

---

June 1967, Wagon Mound, NM

In two more years of searching on his own, G-Man had learned some more about the supernatural, but not as much as he'd wanted. He'd gathered from books that all spirits had a central energy made out of pure passion that held them together, that they had physical forms but they didn't align quite right with the living world, that they were connected to some spirit world ��� all understandably but frustratingly spiritual and speculative. The only thing that seemed to be consistent was that a European flower called blood blossom, the flower that was blooming outside Benjamin Fischer's house, distressed spirits enough to ward them off.

He was in New Mexico again to visit his old spots, trying to see if he could find a ghost fresh enough to talk to him somewhat coherently. A waitress at a diner in Wagon Mound had recognized him and told him that Fischer had died a few months ago and it may not be best to try to visit his house.

Of course, that's just what G-Man did.

Clearly, Fischer had lived alone, and the house looked untouched. The yard was colder than the rest of the town, though it was night, and from the way the hairs on the back of his neck spiked, G-Man was sure it was due to a paranormal presence. Either an effect of Fischer's studies, or he was haunting the place. If G-Man's research was correct, ghosts newer than a few years didn't have enough of a presence to really do anything, or even be conscious, but they tended to hang around where they had lived and affect the atmosphere there.

Following his instincts just the way the man had told him to before, G-Man walked around to the back of the house. There was a back door, the sort that might connect to a kitchen, but a small broken window revealed that the room inside was nothing of the sort. Instead it had metal tables like a lab, surfaces covered in books, and metal boxes lined up against the walls. Some boxes and jars in the room seemed to glow when he looked away from them, including a Florence flask which was knocked over on an otherwise clear table, spilling some translucent liquid which had yet to evaporate.

The closer G-Man got, the more the chill picked at his skin. He could tell he wasn't wanted here, but the dried blood blossoms in his pockets should keep anything too bad from happening. It was worth it for the knowledge he could — would — gain.

He climbed through the window. It was too small to be a comfortable fit, but the door was locked and he didn't want to break anything that wasn't already broken. On the way through, his hand picked up a small static shock. Strange, since the window frame was plastic, but stranger things still have happened during G-Man's studies.

A workbench directly across from the door caught his attention. In front of stacks of books was a torn piece of paper, stained by whatever substance was in the spilled flask. Wild but legible handwriting read:

The items in this lab are not to be moved without the utmost dedication to their protection. I am dead, but my findings are still not to be let out of my sight. Intruders will be faced with my ghost. The security of my work is likely the death of me, be prepared for it to be the death of you.

It was signed by Fischer, but the corner of the paper was smudged unreadable by the liquid, leaving just "Ben".

It was certainly very passionate. Confident, even, from the assumption that his ghost would be around in the time it would be needed. But Fischer knew more than G-Man, if nothing else, he could be sure his ghost would stay with any stolen items until it could punish the thief. G-Man was weary to open any books or boxes knowing this, but stepped back to at least look around the room. Perhaps something could be gained that way.

In his inspection, G-Man noticed one of the faded glows becoming brighter. Suddenly, it coalesced into a figure. Directly in front of him, Fischer's ghost hovered, dark blue eyes piercing despite the overall unsure translucency of his form. He was angry, as fiercely protective of his work as the note had implied. He was also... startlingly solid. This was the closest G-Man had ever been to a ghost, but he was sure that they were not usually so defined at the edges. This ghost had slightly wrinkled skin, and his chest was moving as if he were breathing.

In fact, G-Man was certain that in order for a ghost to collect enough ambient energy to cast a form, stay visible, and maintain a consciousness, their essence had to remain for several years. Even in a place of highly concentrated paranormal energy like this little lab, it would take a year or more for just the emotional consciousness to draw together into a spirit. For what was clearly Fischer to be here so soon, and so unusually solid as well... something was clearly wrong. G-Man's investigative curiosity was almost enough to overpower his instinctual fear.

As the spirit's eyes focused onto him, the air in the room grew drier. It started to pull at the moisture in his skin and made his fingertips feel hot. Every luminescent stain and vial grew brighter until they appeared to occasionally arc between one another. Tiny discharges of hot energy.

There was no way G-Man was getting out of this without at the very least explaining himself. He steeled his nerves to the best of his ability and looked directly into the ghost's eyes, willing himself to ignore the dark lifelessness of the pupils. "Do you... remember me?"

Fischer's head tilted to the side, less like he was trying to remember so much as like he was weighing whether to admit something. "...I do not know you." He looked unsure, questioning, even though behind his firm protectiveness was a layer of desperate honesty. Especially so soon after his own death, he had to be terribly confused, with a sense of purpose but no information as to why it was so.

...Of course, unless G-Man has been misunderstanding something major, and he remembered his life just fine.

Still, assumptions lead to danger when it comes to the supernatural, so he decided to test the waters.

G-Man pointed to the smudged note. "So, Ben..." He avoided calling the ghost by his full living name. For all he knew, there was some ghostly cultural taboo against using someone's old name. The most literal form of a deadname, he supposed. The note said "Ben" at the end, so perhaps if the ghost had no memory of his life he'd understand why G-Man would think that's his name.

Fischer growled. Alright, then, bad move. "That's not it." He was looking pointedly at the note, eying the staining almost as if scared. Wait, was he questioning the cut-off? He must not have been used to going as just "Ben" in life.

"...Not your whole name?"

Fischer shook his head harshly. He looked as though if he weren't fully invested in keeping G-Man away from his findings, he'd be curled up on the floor in frustration.

"Maybe..." started the ghost, "maybe it was... Ben... 'ri'? Benry?"

G-Man had to hold back a startled laugh. Maybe he was thinking of "Benji" or something similar, because as far as he was aware, "Benry" was nothing close to a name. That being said, he wasn't going to bring up the possible confusion. He was on thin ice as is.

"Well. Benry, sir, my name is G-Man. I'm a paranormal researcher, just like... just like the man this lab belonged to, and I've spoken with him before to share findings. I was hoping to make some observations of this room for my own research and leave. I promise not to harm you or anything in here. May I please take a look around?"

The spirit (Benry?) stared back at G-Man with a renewed fury. "NO! The research in this room stays here. If it gets out, they'll take it for their own uses, all they want is-"

"I promise to keep it away from the government!"

It was a fight-or-flight response, really, G-Man just blurted the first thing he thought Benry might want to hear. Honestly, he had no reason to assume what he didn't want was government involvement, that's a bit of a stereotype when it comes to rural areas, right? Just because G-Man was afraid of the government after getting the cops called on him for a ritual last year didn't mean every paranormal researcher was. And interrupting the ghost wasn't any way to earn his trust, God why wasn't his fear enough to shut him up? I mean, even if he didn't react violently — it would be respectable, considering G-Man's bold act — making a promise to a ghost? Aren't they like the fae? What if he's bound to it? He wasn't planning on sharing anything with the government, not by a long shot, but what if something came up?

Benry's eyes widened and bored directly into G-Man, expression unreadable. Then he softened. Almost literally, his harsh glow lessened and a degree of moisture returned to the room. "You promise."

It wasn't a question, but it didn't feel like a command either. It didn't need to be. An expression of relief. "We protect the research together. You can build on it. Without the findings, there's nothing to protect. We must keep it from the wrong hands."

G-Man was shocked. The shock didn't lessen when Benry, and the note, faded from view. Was he... trusted to keep this research?

After standing still for a minute and feeling the room come back together, he let out a weak, belated "thank you." He approached a closed book on one table. If nothing else, he had to come away from this with some new knowledge.

When he touched it, the pages hummed with the same dry spark as Benry's glare. ...Haunting equipment was a good way to stay close, G-Man supposed. It seemed he had not only Fischer's findings to help his career, but his own defensive spirit, odd as it may be.

[gay-otlc]

*coughs* trans keefe headcanons,,, please <3

Why not? You get some more fun gender headcanons for a few other characters as well.

He/they Keefe

When he was a kid he would draw a lot, but he would always draw himself as male.

Their parents were always confused by his drawings but it was extremely simple in their mind- in an ideal world that they could create, they would be a boy.

He thought most girls felt secretly uncomfortable with being called “she” 

Then they manifested as an Empath and realized that other “girls” felt okay, or even happy, when people used she/her pronouns.

He impulsively cut his hair once- kind of badly, but he loved the messy way it looked and deemed it “Hunky hair.”

They also borrowed Fitz’s old clothes, since they hated the skirts and dresses Gisela always bought for them.

Once, when he was supposed to be at school, he ditched class and wandered around some elvin city. Since he had short hair and was wearing Fitz’s clothes, everyone assumed him to be male, and he had no idea why it felt so good.

They started to get more dysphoric more often as they got older, and their sketchbooks were suddenly full of pictures of Keefe in the body they’d prefer.

Once, his dysphoria got so bad that he couldn’t concentrate on class, and he went to Elwin’s office.

They thought Elwin would be confused like everyone else was when they explained their feelings about gender, but Elwin understood.

Elwin came out to him as nonbinary (they/them) and they explained to Keefe what being trans was.

Everything clicked into place.

Elwin also gave Keefe a binder and told them how to bind safely (we all know Keefe would damage their ribs given the chance), and helped Keefe choose their new name.

(Supposedly Keefe means both handsome and loved)

When Keefe came out to his parents, they reacted about as well as he expected- which is to say, horribly.

They lived with Elwin for a few weeks after that

Eventually, Cassius decided that if Keefe was going to live as male anyway, he didn’t want to make it more obvious that Keefe was AFAB, so he let him socially transition in public.

(He and Gisela still misgendered and deadnamed them in private)

While he was living at Elwin’s house, he still went over to the Vackers a lot, and came out to them as well.

Fitz didn’t quite get it at first, but he was supportive. Della was pretty much ready to go murder Cassius and Gisela herself. Biana’s reaction was pretty much “Okay. Can I still give you makeovers?” Alden, as expected, was an asshole about it. Alvar wasn’t there.

After Keefe helped Fitz understood gender a bit more, ze came out to him as boyflux and sometimes using ze/hir pronouns.

Much to Biana’s delight, as Keefe grew more comfortable in their gender identity, they became more okay with being a bit more gnc and liked wearing dresses and makeup sometimes.

Biana started using she/ae pronouns.

When Fitz and Keefe started dating, Keefe was a bit worried that Fitz only wanted to date him because ze saw him as still a girl.

They mentioned this to Fitz. Fitz laughed, apologized for laughing, and said it was just hilarious that Keefe thought ze liked girls.

When Sophie arrived, Keefe was a little nervous because he wasn’t sure how humans thought about gender, but when he came out, she was pretty cool about it and introduced him to human pride parades (and pride flags).

Everything they own is now a trans or bi pride flag.

He convinced Fitz to ditch class once and they went to a pride parade together.

This is so long I’m going to shut up now. Thanks, anon!

[artificialqueens]

Taste My Fears and Light Your Candle (To My Raging Fire) (Gottrosnali) - Writworm42

A/N: Mik has a dysphoria-inducing nightmare, and Denali and Rosé comfort him.

TW for deadnaming, misgendering, and body-related dysphoria, though these are relatively brief, they’re the “hurt” part of this hurt/comfort, so PLEASE take care of yourself and don’t read it if implied deadnaming, straight-up misgendering, and body issues trigger you.

The nightmares Mik has in this, as well as the things that make him feel better, are based on my own experiences. Transness is a million different experiences and narratives. There’s no universal experience, nor are there universal coping mechanisms. If a trans friend of yours struggles with these kinds of nightmares or anxieties, ask THEM what helps them best.

Title from Don’t Judge Me by Janelle Monae. Thank you thank you thank you Holtz for beta-ing, I love you so much <3

Something is wrong. Really, really fucking wrong.

Mik is walking down the hallway of…somewhere, he doesn’t actually know where. All he does know is that the hall is long, dimly lit, and even though the floors seem cold and concrete, his steps don’t make a sound as he travels, trying to find his way. There’s something on the walls, he can tell when he raises his fingertips to run them along the bumpy, scratched-over paint and they hit something protruding there, actually coming out pretty far.

Weird.

He stops in front of the spot he’s just felt over, turns to see if he can figure out what he’s just touched. Suddenly, the light in the hallway suddenly seems to turn up to one-hundred, making everything clear, and his heart drops straight to his feet.

A mirror. He’s staring at a mirror, but…

No. That’s not him. It’s not. It can’t be. His hair is too long, and his face is too round, and…

Holy shit. He brings shaking hands to his chest, trying to make sure he’s actually seeing what he’s seeing, that this is actually real.

Tits. He has tits.

No. He can’t. It’s impossible; he’s had surgery, he knows he has. They’re gone, they can’t have come back, they can’t—

What’s her name?

He freezes when he hears the whisper, a high voice that isn’t his. Can’t be his.

What’s her name?

It’s not talking about him, it can’t be. There’s no way.

Only then another voice, just as high, just as not-his answers with the one name he never wants to hear again, the one that makes bile rise in his throat and feels like a stake being driven through his heart.

No, no, that’s not him, they’re talking about someone else. They have to be. But then why is his hair long? Why is his face soft and his body curvy, and what the fuck is with his tits? And why are the voices getting louder and louder, she she she and that name, that Godforsaken name, over and over and over again—

“Kade! Kade! Kade, wake up! Kade!”

Mik rockets up in a cold sweat, trembling and gasping for breath. His head is spinning, and there’s still a whisper in his mind, remnants of his nightmare repeating words he doesn’t want to hear. With a jolt, he remembers what else he saw in his dream, and before he knows it, his hands are flying to his chest, touching around to make sure that it really was just a dream, that his tits actually are gone.

“What’s wrong, baby? What happened?”

Mik almost jumps at the voice beside him, followed by the realization that he’s got two hands on his shoulders and two more wrapped loosely around his waist, two pairs of eyes watching him with concern. Rosé and Denali.

Thank God.

“It’s…it’s nothing, guys, just a nightmare. It’s fine,” he shakes his head, but even as he says it, his voice quivers, because the fear hasn’t quite left him, not yet.

And his boyfriends must know it, because instead of letting it go, they hold him a little tighter, Rosé leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Was it one of those dreams again?” Denali prompts with a gentle voice, “The ones where….”

Mik doesn’t give him a chance to fill in the blank before dropping his head in his hands. “I don’t–I just… fuck . It’s stupid, I’m sorry, just…never mind.”

It’s just Rosé, and it’s just Denali, and it was just a dream. So why can’t he get a hold of himself?

Luckily, his two loves don’t seem to mind him being tongue-tied.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want, Kade.” Rosé trails a hand down Mik’s arm, takes a hand and squeezes it reassuringly.

While Mik is grateful for that grace, grateful for both his boyfriends’ intuition, he’s also frustrated, because it’s not that he doesn’t want to talk about it. It’s not. It’s just that…

How do you tell two cis dudes that you dreamed your tits grew back, when sometimes it seems like all they ever talk about is padding them on for drag? How do you tell them that even after years of being on T, your old voice still pops into your head from time to time, when they certainly don’t ever get intruded upon by the voices they had when they were ten years old? Or that your worst nightmares are over things that are so small to them, so insignificant, shit like having the wrong kind of jaw?

How do you tell them that the memory of who you were forced to be keeps trying to ruin the happiness of being who you are, when they can’t possibly know how that feels?

“It was the voices again,” he finally bites out. “The ones that say my deadname. And then there was this, like, mirror thing, only instead of me in it, there was– I was…”

Rosé catches him just as he slumps into the older man’s arms, biting down hard on his own lip as he tries to stop the hot tears in his eyes from spilling over. He feels a hand on his back, and fuck, he’s crying, he’s probably ruining Rosé’s t-shirt, but he can’t stop, not when the hand is rubbing up and down his back, over his shoulder, grounding him and calming him.

“It’s okay, Kade,” Denali whispers, continuing his path along Mik’s bare skin, “Let it out. That’s it, good boy. It’s okay. You’re okay, Kade. You’re okay.”

Maybe it’s the way Rosé holds him tight, as if they’re never going to let go, or maybe it’s how Denali repeats it over and over again; either way, in that moment, Mik chooses to try and believe him.

“Look at me, Kade. Look,” Rosé finally begins to pull apart from Mik, though he doesn’t completely let go, not quite; instead, he cups the younger man’s face, tilts his chin up to look him in the eyes. “No matter what your dreams say, nothing about you is going to change. Nothing is going backwards. You are who you are, and who you are is a beautiful, amazing man.”

“He’s right, Kade,” Denali cuts in, still rubbing against Mik’s back in that steady, gentle way he knows Mik loves. “Dreams are just dreams. Nothing is going to re-grow or undo itself.”

“And as for those voices,” Rosé warns, a sudden dark edge to his voice, “If anyone tries to call you the wrong name, or the wrong pronouns, trust and believe, baby, D and I’ll teach them a thing or two about respect.”

He follows his promise with a light kiss to the top of Mik’s head, one that Denali then adds onto with a kiss on the cheek, and he can’t help but smile, warmth replacing fear as his boyfriends continue to hold him, comfort him. It’s something that always works for him–a little bit of touch, a little bit of reassurance, hearing his name and that nothing about who he is today will ever be snatched away from him. Not while Rosé and Denali have something to say about it.

“Thanks, you guys,” he sighs out contentedly after a moment more, his heart rate finally settling as the last of the nightmare-fuelled adrenaline leaves his body. “I’m okay now, I think.”

“Good,” Denali and Rosé both say at the same time.

Neither of them make a move to let go of Mik, though, and quite frankly? Mik doesn’t really want to move, either. Instead, he just shifts down, leads the other men to lie down with him, still holding him tight and cuddling him softly.

“I love you guys so much,” he whispers as his eyes flutter closed again, eyelids suddenly heavy as the fatigue of being awake at 2 AM starts to overtake him. “Thank you.”

“No problem, baby boy.”

“We love you, too.”

He doesn’t respond again, only sighs and smiles before he settles back into sleep.

[local80smotel]

All knowing love

pairing; V x Trans Man! Reader

summary; being under V's loving and watchful eye.

requested; Anonymous

rating; T

warnings; transphobia, parental abuse (physical), hints of suicide (but never outright said)

word count; 2185

A/N; this isn't wasn't the fluffiest thing I could write but once talking to my trans boyfriend I couldn't help but feel having a bit of angst was acceptable.

When Y/N was still just a child, he knew something was off about him. Not something "bad" or "wrong" that people would call this feeling when he'd tell them. "It's just a phase" was a comment that was thrown at them mostly by their parents when they were still in their teens, just before high Chancellor Sutler was ever in the eye of politics. Oh, how those days would seem like a humid southern summer walk compared to when Sutler came into the picture. The transphobia he had experienced grew like how weeds grow in futile soil.

The comments like "You're confused" slowly started to warp into something more demeaning to the boy as the Chancellor candidate's toxic grip on the people of England started to squeeze any "unwanted" life out of it. "Undesirable" life as he would call it. When hair was cut after Sutler was elected, there weren't small arguments anymore that would be fixed when he'd be asked if he were hungry and wanted to eat supper with them. It became violent and unlike the people who had raised him for the last 15 years. Having handfuls of freshly cut hair be ripped out because his mother was holding him by his scalp just to yell in his face how much of a monster he was broke his heart.

Was it fear that caused this? Were they scared of losing their only child as many other families had? Was their bundle of joy in their life really an undesirable and the cause of this virus outbreak? Just why? He'd ask himself that as he was packing his bags in preparation to leave the family home for good.

Three long years had passed and at the ripe age of 18, he moved out into the busy streets of London. A small pit in his stomach began to form as the sickening feeling came back. The cause of it was from one simple but yet complex question; could he survive in this fascist regime? Sadness also fueled this emotional fire, sadness from knowing he'd have to use so many things he knew was wrong and didn't describe him truthfully just so he could get a place to come to when curfew hit; The name that was long dead to him the second it was given to him and female pronouns. He'd be signing his own death certificate if he put Y/N instead of his deadname on his application to rent.

They'd look it up and find no Y/N L/N in England and call the police on him in a split second. Shivers ran down his spine as he imagined what would happen to him if that became a reality. No one knew what happened when you were deemed "undesired" but everyone after having Sulter for three years knew that they would go missing and would be never seen of or heard from again. You were just wiped off the face of the Earth.

Y/N lucky had enough money saved from working in retail for the past 2 years to get a small apartment. When he was finally given the keys to the place he couldn't help but sigh in relief. At least in this tiny space, he could be his true self without shaking in fear as he had in his past while being stuck in his parents' home. The next three years were some of the worse when it came to dysphoria. Being forced to go to work almost every day and be called ma'am or miss and be deadnamed constantly damaged his mental health to the point it felt easier just to be open with his identity.

Anything would be better than being forced to hide in this shell of terror. Nights of panic attacks and sobbing that sounded like a wounded animal as he laid on the rotten wooden floor became a routine. On the morning of his 21st birthday, he woke up in the late afternoon. There was no panic in him when he realized he was late for work, how could someone care when this would be their last day on Earth?

With scissors in his hand, he grabbed his hair and began to chop it off sloppily but that didn't matter to him as long as it was finally short like it was when he was a child, and that was enough for him. The thought that when the police would see him, that'd see a man instead of what society had deemed him brought a smile to the young adult. The feeling of freedom pumped through his veins as he went on with his day. It felt odd but refreshing to feel the cold air from his AC on his neck as he fixed himself some bacon and eggs. It wasn't the fanciest thing someone could eat on this day, but it was enough for him.

Around ten AM he left his flat, walking with newfound confidence due to his hair and now his wrapped chest. He had heard from the grapevine that wrapping one's chest in medical bandages could cause serious damage like nerve loss but one this final day he decided to risk it so he could pass in normal daily life. Being called sir by ticket seller at the movies brought him so much joy as he grabbed his "Count of Monte Cristo" tickets and wished them a good day as he went deeper into the movie theater to find theater four to watch the movie. Y/N was somewhat surprised to see only one other person in the audience. Sure, he was 10 minutes late but this was a classic film that was finally being let out of the vault to be watched again! Nevertheless, the man sat down a few rows in front of the figure, settling down into the uncomfortable chair.

“I didn't expect you to come.”

He could tell from how the figure's words were muffled that they were wearing a mask. Y/N turned to them with a confused look on their face.

“Excused me?” Y/N asked but their confusion just deepened as he saw that the figure was wearing.

A Guy Fawkes mask with a matching hat while wearing pitch-black clothing. The man under the mask chuckled as they stood up, Y/N couldn't help but be slightly intimidated by the height of this masked figure.

“I should have done this first so you wouldn't be so perplexed, ” he cleared his throat as began monologing, using many words that start with the letter V in his speech which in turn slightly impressed the 21-year-old.

“But you can simply call me V.”

"V" said while taking a bow

Y/N couldn't help but snicker at this display of some kind of knightship which in turn had V cocked his head in slight confusion on what could be so funny

“Well, Mr. V, might I ask why you're here alone?”

“I could ask you the same thing, but as I am apparently on a tight schedule I won't elaborate”

“Tight sch-” the man interrupted them by placing his leather glove covered finger on top of their lips

“Yes, very much tight schedule as I only have 2 hours till your self made demise am I correct?”

He was blown away at the fact this random stranger knew of his most shameful plan, but the feeling of shock was soon replaced with anger. This creep was stalking me! He thought as he slapped away the masked man, getting up from his chair as he did so.

“You have some right talking to me like that!” he yelled as he started to march away from them.

V reached out and grabbed their hair in a somewhat gentle way

“Y/N wait please, ” he sighed as Y/N stopped who's face was twisted in bitterness “I understand how you feel Y/N, I truly do. I was labeled an undesirable so please don't think that I've been keeping an eye on you in for any other reason than just to keep you safe.”

When he said this Y/N rage seemed to melt away slowly. How was he able to survive being an undesirable? So many questions filled the male's head but the only word he could speak was

“How?”

V let go of his hair as he straightened his posture “If you come with me I'll tell you.”

The more sensible side of the man told him to run away from this masked freak and enjoy what little time you had left in peace but something stopped him. After a moment of silence, he nodded to V's pleasure. He took the 21-year old by the hand and lead them to the back exit. The two walked down the alley and what drew Y/N's eye other than the 6'3 black mass was the posters. Every single one they pasted seemed to have a V cut into them.

He broke the long silence with another question “Did you mark those posters?”

“Does a raven speak?”

“But why?”

V didn't stop walking but he could feel his eyes on him. For being an undesirable he sure seems fine being out after curfew Y/N thought as they waited for the answer.

“The people deserve a symbol. Something to get them through this.”

He opened his mouth to ask what he meant by that but quickly shut it once the meanings of the words came to mind. Maybe he wasn't this creep, more like this country's guardian angel that would save them all from high Chancellor Sutler. It didn't take long for him to reach what Y/N guessed as V's home which turned out to be an abandoned Victoria station. Y/N looked over at him with an eyebrow raised as V opened the hatch that kept the station locked to the public who had originally thought it was abandoned. V turned back to the man and gave him his hand simply saying "follow me, sir Y/N".

Once V was given the curious man's hand he rubbed his thumb over their knuckles before tenderly pulling them inside. He held the hand as they walked in the pitch black, guiding them until they found a giant door which to Y/N's touch felt like it had complex carvings in them. When the masked man opened the door Y/N couldn't help but wince as golden light hit his E/C eyes that had just gotten used to the dark. He had expected V to let go of his hand once they reached his "lair" but he didn't. Oh, what a perplexing and mysterious man he was.

Y/N would be lying if he said his face wasn't blushing at this moment in time. V led them deeper into his beautiful home until both of them to were behind his couch which was black leather. In front of the said couch was a glass coffee table with a box on it. Y/N's hand was finally let go of as V sat on the couch.

“Come sit, I have something to give you.”

“But you said-”

“Please?”

He sighed as he complied, arms folded as he sat next to him. V opened the box and to Y/N's surprise, there was a biner in it. Once again, all he could ask was "How?" as all production and selling of items that could help trans folk was banned just as the Koran was. The masked man took the folded bundle into his giant hands and gave it to them once again shocked male.

“Life has been tough enough on you even if we don't add our government into it. Thank you for holding on. For surviving this long and not letting them take away your love for life and your fighting spirit.”

Without any hesitation, Y/N pulled V into a tight embrace with tears threatening to fall. No one had ever put their life in danger to give them this piece of happiness like this stranger had. All he could do was whimper out a "thank you" as a sob shook his chest deeply.

“Since I showed you my lair, you're going to have to stay till the next November the fifth, is that okay?”

Y/N couldn't help but nod immediately. He could finally be somewhere he was truly accepted for who he really was; a man who was just simply given the wrong body at birth.

V placed his hands on top of the weeping H/C man, stroking the uneven hair and placed his head onto the others.

“I'm cooking ham, is that okay?”

“mmhmm..”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

Royal Growing Pains - Chapter Twenty Seven

Warnings: Homophobia, transphobia, misgendering, sympathetic Deceit

Royal Growing Pains Tag

Roman reluctantly climbed off the bed with Damien and left the bedroom. To his mild surprise, both his mother and Damien’s parents were waiting right around the corner. His mind froze. He had hoped he would have more time to think this through. But no, he had to answer now, apparently, and he had no words to explain his actions.

He was. So screwed.

Damien intertwined his hand with Roman’s and Roman took a breath. He wasn’t going to speak until spoken to, if only to buy him a few more seconds to think.

His mother barely gave him half of a single second. “Have you nothing to say for yourself, Veronica?” she seethed.

Roman just stared at his mother blankly and shrugged. “Nope,” he said.

“Stop being cute, Veronica, it’s not a good look on you,” his mother hissed. “I demand an explanation!”

“I told you I’m not speaking to you until you apologize to Damien. That is all I will say until you apologize,” Roman insisted.

“I will not apologize for saying the truth!” his mother growled.

“And yet you want Roman to apologize for being himself?” Damien mumbled next to Roman, and Roman snorted.

“Damien, don’t be ridiculous. To say there was never any sort of double-standard in my family would be a blatant lie,” Roman responded, smirking at Damien as his mother grew red.

“Veronica, pack your things,” his mother growled. “We’re leaving.”

“You wait just a minute, Diana,” the Queen said, ice in her voice. “You were so desperate to marry your child off that you threatened war. You’ve been nothing but antagonistic towards both your own child and ours. I will not allow you to simply return to your country to lick your wounds because you don’t like that our son refuses to be pushed around like you’re used to. You put everyone here through hell to accommodate your wishes. If you choose to force your way back home, then my husband and I will go public with what you threatened us with in order to agree to this. You think you have a PR nightmare at home now? That will be nothing compared to what you have on your hands after today. This wedding will occur, whether you like it or not, unless you’d rather your country hold an uprising knowing everything that you and your husband threatened us with?”

Roman’s jaw dropped open as his mother sputtered and tried to come up with an explanation. None came out of her mouth.

The Queen turned to Roman. “My dear, would you rather be known as Roman or Veronica?”

Roman’s heart leapt into his throat. “Sorry?” he asked.

“Your mother has been forcing you to be someone you’re not for too long. If you wish to go by Roman, we will respect that.”

Damien squeezed Roman’s hand next to him and Roman took a shuddery breath, tears coming to his eyes. “I...” he knew what he had to do if he wanted his mother even remotely cooperative. But the King and the Queen were giving him an out, a guaranteed wedding. He never thought he might want that, and yet, here he was. “I...don’t know.”

The Queen tilted her head to the side. “You don’t have to be anyone you’re not, sweetheart, it’s fine.”

“I...I know. I know that.” Roman took a breath. “It’s just...when I wanted to go by Roman. It was an experiment. It was all an experiment, to see how I would feel as the opposite gender. I had felt like a boy for years, true, but...but I still didn’t know if presenting as male would ring more true than presenting as female. I pushed back against my mother, because I wanted the freedom to experiment. But...I still...don’t know.”

The tears slipping down Roman’s cheeks as he spoke those words were real. It broke his heart that he had to play the part of the confused child when his opportunity to be himself was right there. But if he wanted Remus at the wedding, if he wanted continued contact with his friends, if he wanted to see anyone at home again, he had to play into this, just a while longer. “I thought...I thought I knew,” Roman said. “I thought I was sure when I pushed back. I wanted the freedom to experiment, and I wanted that freedom to be myself, whoever that was. But as this week continues...I don’t know. I don’t know who I am.”

The Queen looked him over. Damien was giving him glances. His mother was still red in the face. “Part of me...part of me wants to be Roman,” he said. “But there’s another part of me that I find difficult to explain. And I want to figure out what that part is as well. I want to know all of me, as best I can, before I make this decision.”

“Of course,” the Queen said, relaxing a fraction. “Still, we must call you something.”

Roman nodded. “You can call me Roman,” he said. “I still want to experiment. To see if it sits right. Give me twenty-four hours as Roman, and I’ll have a decision for you tomorrow afternoon. I just...I just need time.”

“We can do that,” the Queen said with a smile. “Now. As for you two running off...”

Roman and Damien got double-teamed by the King and Queen, talking about how they were scared to death and if they needed time alone, all they had to do in the future was to ask for it, but to never run off like that again. Roman nodded to all of it, and Damien just stood there, agreeing softly at the end. Roman’s mother said nothing the entire time, simply glaring at Roman, and Roman pretended that she wasn’t even there.

When they were ordered to go downstairs and grab something to eat before meeting with the dignitaries, Damien sighed once they were out of their parents’ earshot. “You put on a very convincing act, Roman, I’m impressed.”

“Thank you,” Roman said. “Your parents know it’s an act, I assume?”

“My mother caught on, for certain,” Damien said. “And she can clue my father in.”

Roman nodded. “My mother will expect me to go by my deadname around the dignitaries.”

Damien grimaced. “I don’t suppose that simply not correcting them if they call you either name is acceptable?”

“Not to her. But maybe we could play it off for the sake of the ‘experiment,’” Roman mused.

“And I assume at the end of the ‘experiment’ you’ll allow your mother to deadname you?” Damien asked.

“Lull her into a false sense of security, and then when the wedding comes, be my true self. It’ll keep her quiet until the wedding itself, at the very least,” Roman said. “And it will guarantee that Remus is there.”

Damien nodded. “I don’t like it, but I understand,” he sighed.

Roman laughed a little. “You’re so protective,” he said. “I think it’s a little funny, especially when I’ve been able to handle myself this long.”

“My mother just stepped in to save both of our hides,” Damien pointed out.

“Would she have done that if I hadn’t won her over with my charming smile and good looks?” Roman teased.

“Yes,” Damien said.

“Oh.” Roman considered this new information. “Well, whatever. Minimal interference does not refute the fact I can handle myself.”

“You keep telling yourself that, my love,” Damien laughed.

Roman stuck his tongue out at Damien and Damien did it back with a laugh. They walked into the kitchen and Patton just about shrieked in surprise. “Boys! Where have you been?!”

“Roman’s room,” Damien replied. “Their Majesties already tore into us, no need to call them.”

Patton gave Damien a side-eye. “You remember the first time you lied to me Damien?” he asked.

“We were six, and I said I had worn heelies before and so you didn’t have to worry when we raced around the castle,” Damien said.

“You nearly cracked your skull open when you fell down the stairs and I sobbed so hard I nearly puked because I thought you were dead. And since then I’ve never been able to completely trust you about anything except your inability to cook,” Patton said. “Did you two really get chewed out?”

“Yes, we did,” Roman sighed. “And I got permission to go by Roman for twenty-four hours because my mom was being a witch-with-a-b. But heelies? Do tell.”

“Nothing much else to tell about it,” Patton laughed. “My mom was the head cook before me and I had off school. That happened. You get to go by your name for twenty four hours?”

“As part of an experiment,” Roman agreed. “It’s going to be interesting trying to convince everyone that I didn’t like it enough to continue afterwards, but I get gender euphoria for twenty-four hours.”

“Hey, congrats!” Patton exclaimed, grinning. “That has to be a fantastic feeling.”

“It does feel pretty nice,” Roman said with a shy grin.

“So, Roman,” Patton said with a pointed grin, “Anything I can get you and Damien?”

“Anything that’s filling is fine by me,” Roman said with a shrug. “Damien?”

“I’m not picky, I’m just hungry,” Damien said simply.

“Something fast and filling, got it,” Patton laughed.

A dignitary Roman didn’t recognize walked into the room and snorted. “I knew I’d find you here eventually, Damien!” he said. “How are you, dear?”

“I’m fine, Max,” Damien responded. “Have you met my fiancé, Roman?”

“Never had the pleasure,” Max said, walking over and shaking Roman’s hand.

Roman smiled at Max and said, “I assume you have, however, seen my mother?”

“Yes, she was fuming after what she referred to as your ‘little stunt’ and I must say, anyone who can irritate someone that uptight is a friend in my book.”

Roman laughed. “Uptight is certainly a...kind word for her. I prefer ‘control freak,’ among others.”

“Transphobic, cruel, stubborn, and abusive are what I favor for her,” Damien said simply.

“Jesus, don’t do anything by halves, do you?” Roman asked.

“Not when it comes to this particular topic, I’m afraid,” Damien said with a small and pained smile.

Roman scratched the back of his neck. “Just don’t let her hear you say that and you should be fine. She pokes fights with everyone, anyone who knows her won’t be surprised if she snarls at you.”

Damien made a discontented noise. “I now understand why the diplomats from your country are recorded as some of the kindest and most patient in all the world. And I have to say, that if this is what they have to put up with daily, it’s a surprise any of them make it through the training process.”

Roman laughed and Max winced in sympathy. “Yeah, Her Majesty can certainly be a piece of work,” Max mumbled. “Don’t tell her I said that, of course.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Roman assured. “Especially when I know exactly what you have to go through around her when she likes you on a good day.”

Patton came over with food for Roman and Damien and both of them made quick work of it, chatting with Max in between bites. When they had both finished lunch, they shared a look. “I’m not ready to go out to all the other dignitaries,” Roman groaned. “I’m tired, and I want a break from the wedding and the performance around it.”

“I know, my love,” Damien said, kissing Roman’s knuckles. “But I won’t make you go through this alone, if it’s any consolation.”

Roman shrugged. “It’s nice, but the fact remains that this will be a highly draining act, explaining everything that is going on.”

“I can help explain a few things, if you’d like?” Max offered. “Go to the little groups around the room and chat with them before they get to you?”

“You’d do that?” Roman asked, relief evident in his voice.

“Of course,” Max said. “I probably can’t get every group, but I know enough people to know who to talk to about it, and the rest of the room will hear the gossip soon enough.”

“Nice,” Roman said. “I’d appreciate that.”

Max offered Roman a smile. “Shall we get to the ballroom, then? Everyone is waiting for the both of you.”

“Let’s get it over with,” Damien said, linking his hand in Roman’s.

Roman walked side-by-side with Damien as they entered the room, and Roman shuffled a little closer as nearly everyone turned to look at them. “I found Their Highnesses in the kitchen!” Max exclaimed with a little laugh. “Try not to flood them!”

Roman put on his best polite smile and Damien stood next to him, looking relaxed but somewhat resigned. Immediately, the closest group to the door came over and dragged them into a conversation about the wedding. What they planned to wear, and oh, wasn’t it exciting, and what was their first dance going to be? Roman responded with answers that ranged from, “Yes, I suppose it’s rather exciting,” to “I want to leave the details of the wedding to be a surprise.” Damien was similar, trying to deflect any questions specifically about Roman’s dress, and anything that spoke about “the bride.”

Dysphoria stabbed Roman in the chest every time someone said that, but still he smiled and responded politely. They didn’t get a word in edgewise with the first group, and couldn’t explain that Roman was going by Roman for the day. The second group, though, Max had spoken to, and it was a breath of fresh air when someone asked, “So, how are the grooms-to-be faring?”

Roman laughed, beaming and honestly answering, “We’ve been all right,” as Damien smiled at the dignitary who had asked the question.

The conversations were about things that Roman didn’t find important, for the most part, but he was able to answer them honestly and openly, seeing as how his mother currently was not in the room. Damien, again, deflected prying questions about Roman’s gender and anything related to the reveal at the wedding. Roman squeezed Damien’s hand as they were let go to another group. “What was that for?” Damien asked.

“For being willing to help dodge questions about the wedding day,” Roman said with a small smile. “I really appreciate it.”

“Of course, my love, it wouldn’t do for the surprise to be spoiled,” Damien responded.

“A surprise?” a dignitary asked. “What sort of surprise?”

“A secret surprise,” Damien replied simply. “And no, you will not get either of us revealing anything more about it.”

Conversation became a bit more prying after that, but Roman and Damien didn’t give anything up. They talked, they laughed, and never once did they let go of each other’s hands. Their parents walked into the room at some point, which Damien pointed out by mumbling, “The Dragon Witch has entered.”

Roman took an inconspicuous look around the room and spotted her and Damien’s parents talking with a few other people. “Great,” Roman sighed.

“Don’t worry, we can get through this,” Damien said, voice holding a lot more confidence than Roman felt.

The afternoon went on slowly, everyone’s shadows slowly creeping longer and longer, until the sun was definitely setting. Roman and Damien went through the last group of dignitaries and both of them sat down in a corner of the room with a sigh. “This is so hard,” Roman sighed. “I know my mother caught me smiling a couple times when people called me Roman. How do I know if she’s going to buy my story tomorrow, asking to go back to Veronica?”

“She’s desperate enough to not question it too much, I think,” Damien murmured back. “I mean, she shouldn’t be, but she is. I can’t wait for that world to crash around her, and real life to kick her in the face.”

“That would be great,” Roman snorted. “I doubt it would happen, but it’s nice to dream...”

“It will happen, if for no other reason than because I will ensure it happens,” Damien said. “I’ve put up with too much from her to not gloat.”

“Fair enough,” Roman laughed, resting his head on Damien’s shoulder.

Damien kissed Roman’s head and murmured, “Do you think we can be affectionate around your mother while you’re performing this little ‘experiment’?”

“I don’t know,” Roman admitted. “She’s quite obviously homophobic. I think if we’re affectionate she’ll try to brush it off. She’s realizing that scolding me doesn’t have much of an effect on my behavior here, and she can’t take away my phone; I won’t let her do that again. So we can do as we please within reason. Eventually, she’ll find a threshold where being at risk of a PR disaster is worth it if I’m in her grasp again, so we’d have to tread lightly on the bigger stuff, but I think just being close, like this, sitting together, isn’t as big of a deal.”

“So what I’m hearing is that I won’t get to kiss you for the next twenty four hours,” Damien sighed.

“Sadly,” Roman agreed. “If we did that, she would instantly freak out and drag me home by my ear.”

Damien winced. “She’s a horrible woman.”

“She is,” Roman agreed softly. “Don’t tell her that I said that.”

“Of course not,” Damien said. “Everyone knows that men are the only ones who are allowed opinions anyway.”

“Hey!” Roman exclaimed, a fraction of a decibel too loud, as some people looked over at them. “I’ll have you know that I am a man. A manly man. A man who is manly!”

“Of course you are,” Damien said. “I was trying to play off a joke from your mother’s flawed logic. Was it not funny?”

“Strikes a little too close to home,” Roman said, lips pressed into a thin line.

“My apologies, in that case,” Damien said.

They turned to look at the crowd in the ballroom and lapsed into silence. “Dinner is going to be a trial,” Damien sighed. “Not everyone here will be staying for dinner, but enough people will be that we cannot escape the horrors that are small talk and wedding planning.”

Roman laughed. “I’m not looking forward to it either,” he admitted. “At least your descriptions of everything are funny, though.”

“Well, good, I’m glad,” Damien said, puffing out his chest a little and preening under the praise.

“And I think dinner will be at least somewhat bearable,” Roman said.

“Oh? And why would that be?” Damien asked.

Roman squeezed their intertwined hands and smiled. “Because we’ll be going through it together.”

Tag List: @lunareclipse-13@sanders-sides-crofters@blushy-gigglee-mess@wannacrymetoo@kaytikitty@magicalspacepanunicorn@bootsinthesun@pricklyfish777@flowersanddinosaurs@leiasolo77@birdybabybird@enby-phoenix@luna--28@justagaygoose@the-prince-and-the-emo@fandomsandanythingelse@randommuffinyt@snekky-boi@thesoftestlittlepuffballwegot@twilight-trix@abby5577@escalatingtoofast@friendlyfacestabbing@remus-is-stinky@foggybanditdreampeanut@ghostskull300@sprinklestheditty@canvas-the-florist@askthesnake@samuel-the-gay@determination-saved@juicy-cashew@demidork84@why-should-i-tell-youu2@nerd-in-space@aphriteblack@cktkat@im-actually-ok@loganpatton@lilbeanblr@kittyboof8@irish-newzealand-idian-dutch@sanders-trash-4ever@hamilspntrash@swords-and-kittens@phantomfander@narniasfinestavengingsociopath@rjmeta@ambersky0319@anni-cat-flower@idosanderssidespromptssometimes@nafsbluebery@redisawerewolf23@voidvirgil@msu82@angstyfanfiction

[save-the-spiral]

Wiztober Day Eleven: Darkness

Welcome to day eleven of Wiztober! One character is pointedly not named. I don’t like writing down or coming up with deadnames for trans characters, it makes me extremely uncomfortable (though they are misgendered, it’s from the perspective of people who don’t know they’re trans, or the character themself doesn’t know they’re trans). My first time writing more about actual cultures, and also a trans femme character more in depth. Feel free to send an ask and correct me if need be. (ALSO. I can explain the names in another post. the intersection of culture and gender comes into play). My content warning are specific but! they need to be. Sorry if it’s awkward! some things would be specifically upsetting to me if faced with them out of the blue, and I’d like to note them.

Content warnings for perfectionism forced upon children from their parents, physical and verbal bullying, ableism (towards a ‘weird’, not openly autistic person), chronic pain mention (endometriosis), attempted murder, injury mention, and like, two lines of implied racism, though it could be interpreted otherwise.

(link to prompt list)

Quyen and Phuong Jade were close siblings. Born only a year apart, Quyen was a good older brother, going out of his way to protect his two younger siblings, but with a soft spot for his sister Phuong. In the beginning they were three sons from a good, ‘normal’, Vietnamese family, even with an adopted youngest child. Now Quyen, Phuong, and their younger brother were wizards, and not all of them were sons, and they had left their home on Earth behind years ago. They had all left their names as well.

Quyen chose Celyn, and Phuong went by Morelle, and they chose the last name Jade together. Quyen was thirteen, Phuong twelve, and their younger brother ten. This youngest brother didn’t get input as to their new last name, and his first name was already western, given by parents he never knew. He saw himself as an afterthought most of the times, the adopted baby to be taken care of as Quyen and Phuong acted like twins, mischievous yet hard working together.

Celyn was eighteen, now. He never faltered when responding to his western, fake name. He was a year ahead of Morelle, and yet she spent more time helping him with his homework in their study sessions than the other way around. Morelle was also taller than him now, a consistent point of good-natured ribbing.

He was still supportive and protective, though his brother had insisted on being given space in his moodier teenage years, now fifteen with a steady girlfriend and a need to prove himself. So Celyn gave him distance, checking in sometimes but always being pushed further away. Morelle insisted that their brother needed to find his own friends, find himself, because although he seemed ungrateful, he still loved his siblings. They had to. They would always be family.

Morelle was seventeen, and even more outspoken and strong than before. She still had dragged Celyn with her to (almost) every doctor’s appointment as she transitioned, genuine when she looked him in the eye and said she needed someone to know, and care. Celyn already cared, and he found rare books on the magic used to help in her transition, and left them in her dorm.

Celyn always loved rare books, and had a skill for finding them.

That, one could suppose, is as good a start as any, though it goes back two years ago.

Celyn had been given a tip by a grateful acquaintance about where he could find rare, even forbidden, books in Wizard City. Just had to have the right key, and go behind the right waterfall, and be prepared to pay the price if caught.

Since he was sixteen Celyn had been sneaking into Nightside, slipping between abandoned streets and alleyways in the dead of night, wearing a dark cloak, carrying a dagger, maybe being a bit too dramatic. He had found some of his best finds in empty houses and bookstores, and even once grabbed a tome from the library, though that felt too actually criminal for him to attempt again.

At first it was just extra reading material, he and his siblings were all great life wizards, but they could always be greater. They strove for perfection as children back on Earth, and even now without parents to scold them, they still felt a frantic need to be the best, the kind that left them pulling all-nighters and waking up in a panic over tests already taken..

Morelle was fifteen when she started tutoring a pretty girl in life magic. The girl was known around school as quiet to the point of unnerving, never getting social interactions right, so the myth wizard had been labeled as ‘weird’ by the majority of people and written off as smart but too freaky to befriend. Morelle, who looked at this girl and couldn’t help but blush, who found her intriguing now that she noticed her, was thankful she had been assigned to tutor her.

Morelle and Morae became quiet study partners after that. Morelle came to Celyn for help with her rapidly growing need to get to know the girl, to speak to her and find a way to connect where no one else had tried before.

Celyn decided to find some esoteric myth tomes for Morelle to give to her new friend. That was when he found a book on Shadowmancy.

He kept the strange, unique book, shoving it under his homework an interest to pursuit later. He passed on the myth spell books and Morelle came back later, gushing about how Morae was from Earth like them, though on the opposite side of the globe, and then she said more and more until Celyn realized it indeed was a crush.

Celyn met Morae. She was as quiet as rumors said, though there was a logic to it, and Celyn respected that. They both relished in a silent, calm environment, and both enjoyed having someone outgoing and wild like Morelle to pull them out from time to time. They rarely spoke, aside from Celyn giving Morae advice about wooing his sister, and Morae asking clarifying questions about Morelle and how to interact with others without coming off as always aloof, when in reality she was actually rather excited or happy.

Something Morae was startlingly quick to divulge was that she was in nearly constant pain, and kept a blank face as a habit so she wouldn’t scowl at everyone. Then, she would forget to smile. When asked further, she just shifted, pressing a hand to her lower back, and muttered that it was chronic, and even magic didn’t have a cure, so she took standard medication imported from Earth.

Celyn wasn’t one to adopt others as friends quickly. That was Morelle’s forte. But something about Morae opened up his heart, and while his brother pushed him away, he felt like he was gaining a second sister rather quickly. He answered Morae’s questions, he kept and eye out for interesting books Morae would like. He even picked up food for her to try, although she was quick to dismiss things with unpleasant textures, it was something he did to add variety to her life, as she admitted living by routine was soothing, but sometimes monotonous.

It was a month or so later that Celyn actually delved into the book that had gotten lost in his shuffle of books and homework. Shadowmancy was interesting. It spoke of other schools of magic Celyn had never heard of before, ones concerning the Moon, the Sun, and the stars. Some part of him burned with a cold resentment that such lost knowledge was buried in abandoned shops and homes, that it could have been lost to time, even though students would always be eager to discover and learn a new school. He had to know more.

As Morelle grew closer to Morae, Celyn fell into isolation, only studying for school, and for this new magic he had found. Months passed, and the only times he left his dorm were for class or seeking out more books in Nightside’s forgotten corners, then dropping off books for Morae and Morelle during group study nights.

Things progressed. Now, Celyn is eighteen. Morelle and Morae are seventeen.

Celyn would graduate in a few weeks’ time. Morelle and Morae had been dating for half a year, still tentative, barely doing more than some adventurous hand holding in public.

The world shifted when Morae showed up to one of Celyn, Morelle, and Morae’s group study sessions with a bruised face, and couldn’t speak. Morelle instantly went to her girlfriend’s side, emotional but trying her hardest to not raise her voice or cry herself.

Celyn sat there, watching it happen, and felt like he was grinding his teeth into dust. Anger surged, as if someone flipped a switch inside him, and his usual pleasant and sometimes coy demeanor became nothing. His face was devoid of emotion, his green eyes, something so different from his siblings’ plain brown, were dull.

He saw nothing but the shadows, and the shadows saw him. Life magic had no solution for this aside from soft words and healing spells. Shadow knew how to twist circumstances in one’s favor, how to change the game and make others regret.

Morelle told him the next day before a shared lecture. Morae had allowed her to confide in him, and so his sister told him that there were some very persistent bullies seeking a response from Morae. That they had been doing this for years, and were just now escalating to physical actions. After that day, he spent more time with Morelle and Morae, supporting them. She would show up to their usual meeting spots with a random bruise or two, insisting it was nothing. He was trying his best to remain calm and not lash out at the entire world for allowing harm to come to Morae.

Instead he watched, waiting, but still he felt tense. A bow string pulled past its limits, cold with righteous fury that must be sated eventually. He became less orderly, forgetting some of the last assignments in his school career, dressing in ink stained theurgist robes, no longer tying his hair back.

Morelle joked that they looked like twins more than ever, and Celyn grinned at that. Their sharp smiles were identical, and Celyn knew he could bring Morelle in on the only secret he had ever kept from her, if only from omission.

So on a night where Morae wanted to study on her own for myth school exams, Celyn invited his sister over. He showed her the books he had accumulated, hidden behind his driest, most boring textbooks. She was interested, downright fascinated, but only drawn to what Shadowmancy could do to make her a better healer and protector.

Celyn had been drawn the violence. He was always of the opinion that the best defense was a swift and ruthless offense. Morelle had a better sense of when to play fair, where he was more ruled by anger. He probably should have guessed what facets of this school she would find entrancing.

She knew this about him too, and vocalized it when she noticed how much fewer his books on healing and protecting were. Morelle simply teased him, smiling as if it was something as commonplace as her razzing on Celyn over his height. Celyn smiled back, and knew Morelle was better at predicting him than he was at reading her intentions.

Celyn even brought her along on a visit to Nightside, where she could scope out and pick books of her own, and they didn’t sleep that night. It was amazing, the adrenaline of a heist combining with the giddiness of their old mischief making them carry twin smiles.

They were not careful. They were seen.

Those who saw them knew who they were. Who their few other connections were. A distanced, adopted brother who was busy being dragged around by an overbearing girlfriend anyway, and wasn’t consequential. And then Morae, the same girl they had been harassing, that they were so keen on finally getting a reaction out of.

So that was how things came to a head. Threats were made to Morae about getting the only people who cared about her kicked out of Ravenwood. Morae was angry, very angry.

All her life, Morae had been passive. She was quiet, sensitive. A good girl back at home on Earth, who kept quiet and did everything asked of her, even when that meant failing school to take care of siblings, even when that meant smiling and pretending she didn’t understand the insults, even if she was fluent in English as well as her native Spanish. She was different no matter how silent she was, her large afro of hair and Vitiligo always easy to point out.

Then Morae was told she had to potential to be a wizard, to go learn fantastical things. She took the chance, because when she asked her parents, they said they didn’t care either way, and tried to guilt her, but she didn’t get that they were trying to guilt her, and so she just left. She cut her hair close to her skull, the texture finally no longer a constant pain just under her skin, and became a myth wizard.

And for years, she still acted the same. Quiet, passive. A good girl. Until she reached out and asked to be tutored in life magic. And she found someone worth being herself for. 

Almost two years of being friends, almost six months of being girlfriends, and Morae had found her spine, confidence wrapping around her like a heavy, anchoring blanket. When threatened, anger rose up for the first time since she was very young. Anger made her fists clench around the strap of her school bag. It made her look up from her shoes. It made her pay attention and want to defend what was hers.

So Morae looked the bullies in the eye, standing at her full height of six feet, and scoffed. The eye contact was uncomfortable, but it was worth it for the bullies’ discomfort, as they noticed just how tall she was, how severe her face could look, even in the dappled sunlight outside the myth school. She told them she didn’t care, that they could bring it because nothing had worked yet, and she was getting bored.

Then she left, and within a minute she had interlocked her fingers with Morelle’s, and she kissed the girl on the cheek, spontaneous enough to leave them both giggling.

Morae told Morelle and Celyn about her confrontation that night when they were supposed to be studying, her eyes bright as she rambled on, open and honest and excited about this new development, as if it were idle yet juicy gossip, and not a serious threat.

Morelle knew Celyn was angrier than ever, though it was because he was scared, and he knew if they got caught it would be his fault. Morelle knew what kind of person Celyn was, and that her brother would take the punishment for the both of them if he could figure out how. And she wouldn’t let that happen, not when they could control the situation. In the past few weeks her studies in shadow magic pushed her towards thinking like this, and she found it very beneficial.

So Morelle, that night, told Morae about the school of shadow magic. Morae, who had already gone to the limits of her magical prowess mastering life magic alongside her first school of myth, was interested, but unable to learn it anyway aside from maybe a spell or two. Celyn, understanding what Morelle was going towards, helped her plan out what they were to do next.

What neither of them considered was that plans always fall apart the moment one comes in contact with the enemy.

And so this was where they were.

A day before graduation, and Celyn’s dorm was being searched after he was accused of attacking some students who may or may not have a reputation for bullying. He did attack the students, but it still felt unfair. Of course they found the shadowmancy books too, because Celyn didn’t exactly think things would get this far, and in his defense, he was eighteen, and thought a few stuffy textbooks would be a good cover for contraband. He was expelled, and then exiled, quickly and quietly. He was leaving through the Spiral Door before anyone knew what had taken place that morning.

Morae was missing. Morelle was frantic and looking for her, a lime green aura of powerful life magic fluttering around her, lighting up all the dark spots as she scoured everywhere one would expect Morae to be.

Someone, like a god damned serial killer, had slid a note halfway under Morae’s door sometime after Morae had searched her girlfriend’s dorm that morning.

It had just a location, and Morelle was on a warpath. If those who caused this, whoever Celyn had missed in his little vengeance mission, were still there, they would regret it.

Luckily for those people, they weren’t there. Morae was.

She had been thrown from the edge of Ravenwood, down into Nightside.

It was a gorey scene. If Morelle hadn’t been medically trained, she likely would have been unresponsive when faced with something so awful. She did all she could with her life magic, straightening broken limbs and bandaging open wounds, staring helplessly at obvious internal wounds. She even managed to conjure a stretcher, the fabric and wood a deep green, her magic too emotional to bother with proper colors as it glowed and levitated, illuminating Morae’s injuries in a sickly color.

Morelle ran as quickly as she dared, the stretcher following her, Morae’s breaths wheezing and shallow, filling the small cave entrance behind the waterfall when Morelle stopped for breath, in her mind trying to construct any plan.

There was no plan for this.

So Morelle walked out of the fine mist of water from the waterfall, using her magic to shield Morae’s body as the stretcher floated through. The busy students preparing for the graduation ceremony tomorrow stopped and stared from their places scattered about the Commons. Once shock turned to alarm, people began yelling and crowding around, more and more coming as they heard the others, and Morelle only got as far as the courtyard right before the tunnel to Ravenwood when she snapped.

Instead of lime green life magic, Morelle’s magic darkened. It became a forest green, still surrounding and shielding Morae, what little healing magic she had left being slowly fed into her body, trying not to overload her.

But around Morelle herself that forest green darkened further. She shouted for people to back off and clear the way, but still the crowd shifted, fellow theurgists offering their aid and conjurers offering faux sympathy after years of ignoring their peer, one of the best of them.

Then, ink falling into water, blood falling onto cobblestones, Morae falling into Nightside, Morelle’s ambient magic became a deep, unfathomable black. It absorbed light around it, filling out and circling like a predator, a deep chirruping hum of interest as it built a barrier.

Then Morelle’s shadow stretched, rising, holding a scythe she didn’t own yet. Shadow didn’t care for time, it knew who Morelle was.

And, as Shadow always does, it broke the rules.

There were limits to magic in healing, the potential to make magic spill over as if the wizard body was a cup and magic was water, and it was infuriating to many healers. Shadow could overflow, and still stay, all that magic anchored and solid, as if frozen and still rising, leaving bit by bit as the body absorbed it and truly healed.

Morelle’s hair rose, long black strands twisting and warping as she merged with her shadow, a sentinel and seraph in one form, armor clad in indigo and black, wings protectively curled where they became one with the barrier around her.

Next Morelle knew, she was in a daze, and it was the dead of night, and she was told of her expulsion, a key in hand as she entered the Spiral Door.

Next Morae knew, she was waking up as healthy as she could be, told of her girlfriend’s expulsion, and girlfriend’s brother’s exile. How those who were attacked by Celyn and those who she knew had thrown her off a cliff were getting off with no punishment for their bullying, or for their actual crimes of assault and attempted murder. And she was angry, and spiteful, but this time she was willing to wait for a better plan.

She would complete her last year of school in only months of time, and find her girlfriend. She would return to Wizard City one day, Morelle at her side, with a plan that wouldn’t fail.

So Morae smiled softly, if not a little tearfully, and quietly thanked the life student in the clinic who was known to rip up the homework of those he disliked. Morelle and Celyn had such interesting gossip from the secret hierarchy of life wizards.

There were many secrets in Wizard City. Morae would just have to find the right one to make Ambrose regret his choices. She would bide her time, but when the time did come, she would make eye contact no matter how painful, just to see that soft sparkle in Headmaster Ambrose’s eyes to fill with stark terror.

[the-gay-prometheus]

1 for René, 2 for Cadieux, 5, 7, 14 for any you want/all, 18 for the Ingolstadt Boyfriends™ and 22 for all :3

Oh Mist you really out here keeping me busy huh. Get ready for a long-ass post.

1. Were they named after anyone?

>Nope - neither for his deadname nor his chosen name. His mom just really liked the name she chose as his deadname, and as for his chosen name, he just liked the symbolism of it. René means 'reborn' if anyone didn't know.

And I chose it for its symbolism too.

2. What is their background? How big was their family? Do they have a good relationship?

>Cadieux was raised in Brest, France along with his older sibling, born to a single mother who made her living... at the docks. Said mother went missing when they were young and left the two of them to kinda fend for themselves. So needless to say, small family, got even smaller. Cadi had a really great relationship with his sibling. He looked up to them a lot and still talks about them even though he's not sure where they ended up.

5. Are they religious? What is their opinion on the teachings they grew up with?

>Victor: Absolutely not. Victor is about as far as one could possibly get from being religious. Luckily his parents weren't super religious either, so he didn't necessarily grow up around a lot of religious dogma. What religious teachings he did hear he just laughed off. Even when he comes face to face with the god-like, he sees himself as equal and therefore really doesn't give a shit.

>Henry: Henry is more spiritual than he is religious. He believes in a higher power, but he doesn't really see that higher power as being separate from the world. He finds sanctity in pretty much everything, and believes that as long as you mean well, that's all that really matters. His family wasn't necessarily very religious either - his father didn't really see the use in it and though his mother regularly went to church she never really brought it up at home.

>Agape: He'll take whatever Henry's having basically. Sure he was introduced to Christianity very early in life, but at that point he hadn't seen it as religion and saw it more as just... historical fact, until he eventually learned otherwise. Since he felt so inhuman, at the point when he learned Christianity was more of a human ritual type business, he mostly rejected it. Henry's belief that the sacred lies in all things was very comforting for him though, so he's chosen to take up pretty much exactly the same beliefs.

>Ernest: Similar to Victor except more that he just... doesn't care. He tries to focus more on what he can do for others just because he finds a lot of comfort in helping others rather than doing it for any religious reasons. Not to mention as far as he's concerned, what benevolent god would just create someone with the kind of health problems he has?

>Elizabeth: Elizabeth is kind of the odd one out in that she actually is Christian, but more in the casual sense. She'll go to church every now and then, she says her prayers, she believes in heaven, all that fun stuff. But she isn't going to sit there and tell you that everything in the bible is pure fact and that if you don't repent you're going to go to hell. Her beliefs are more aligned to how Caroline felt about religion - in that it can be a good way to find hope in otherwise difficult situations, but that it can also be toxic if you let it control not only your life but others as well.

>René: Nope. René flips god off daily.

>Percy: Percy is too busy focusing on equations to think about religion. He was raised in a pretty religious household, but he just kinda ignored it all.

>Alex: Alex has religious trauma. His family was extremely religious. So he would rather not be even asked this question. Needless to say, the answer is no.

>Jack: She believes in folk tales and old gods, much like her father.

>Cadieux: Calls himself Christian but only in the "do unto your neighbors and you would have them do unto you" way. He wasn't raised in a Christian environment, but he sort of gained these beliefs during his time in America for the revolutionary war.

7. Are they interested in science? Do they know of any significant discoveries/inventions from recent years? What is their opinion on the Enlightenment and the desire to learn/discover everything about the world?

>Victor: What would Victor be without science? And significant discoveries and inventions? As far as he's concerned all of the significant discoveries and inventions from recent years are the ones that he himself made. His opinion on the Enlightenment is "Yes." That's it.

>Henry: He thinks science is neat because Victor thinks it is. He's aware of discoveries and inventions and finds them fascinating, but he's more concerned about whatever it is Victor's doing when it comes to science. His thoughts on the Enlightenment are "learning and discovery is all well and good, but where is the fun in taking the mystery and the magic out of everything?"

>Agape: At first he very much doesn't like anything science related because, y'know, trauma. But when Victor starts teaching him things he actually becomes super interested in it and loves to learn about it. Hehe - he is a discovery/invention. Good for him! And his thoughts on the Enlightenment are somewhere along the lines of "we should strive to learn everything we can, but we should also understand that it's a goal that cannot - or maybe should not - be obtained"

>Ernest: Science is so cool! He doesn't fully understand it, but he thinks it's really neat - especially what we know as biology and ecology. The extent of his knowledge of recent discoveries primarily came from Victor, because not saying Victor was a better teacher than Alphonse but.... Victor was a better teacher than Alphonse. As for the Enlightenment, his opinion is "Why shouldn't we try to learn everything we can?"

>Elizabeth: Really not her thing. She honestly couldn't care less about the actual science behind anything, though she always loved seeing the results of Victor's experiments and she's certainly fond of the outdoors. She doesn't really know anything about recent inventions and ... again she really doesn't care. Her thoughts on the Enlightenment are "Why??? What is the purpose?? Why can't we just let things be unknown???"

>René: Absolutely loves science and, if it wasn't for his situation, he absolutely would have probably been a biologist or a physician (and would've been damn good at it too - probably even better than Victor would have been). He's not super aware of the new discoveries and inventions of the time, but that's only because he was rarely in a position to learn of them. His thoughts on the Enlightenment are "We have every right and capability to know anything and everything about our surroundings, sure, but maybe let those who can't fucking afford to go to school or whatever learn too."

>Percy: Science is ok but math is better. The only discoveries and inventions he's really interested in are in arithmetic. Enlightenment? As long as it means he can be enlightened in manipulating and theorizing about numbers, then he's interested.

>Alex: Botany is his thing, so sure he thinks science is cool! He knows a bit about current inventions and discoveries, mostly from class and classmates at Ingolstadt, but he's more interested in old discoveries regarding plants as medicine and trying to find the science behind those discoveries. As for the Enlightenment, "If it means we can help more people and if it means we can stop even a smidge of the amount of religious violence over beliefs and theories, then I'm all for it."

>Jack: Literally does not care about any of it. If it's not helping her make sails or cause chaos, she's not interested.

>Cadieux: He doesn't really have much of an opinion on any of it either. He knows his sibling was very interested in it, but neither of them had the tools or the ability to explore it so it didn't matter much to him.

14. Are they aware of any issues of the era they live in? Do they care, try to make a change, or do they feel there is no point?

>I'm actually not sure how to answer this one quite yet so- I'll get back to you on this at some point.

18. Can they dance? Do they prefer folk dances or more formal ballroom dancing?

>Percy and Alex? Of course! Percy is much more of a dancer than Alex is, and much prefers folk dances (which Alex is more than happy to watch). Alex on the other hand does enjoy a good ballroom dance, but mostly he just likes watching Percy do his thing.

22. How superstitious are they? Do they have any personal rituals/traditions?

>Victor: Used to be a bit superstitious in his little occult/witchcraft phase, but really isn't anymore.

>Henry: He finds superstitions interesting and fascinating, but doesn't really believe in them. As for rituals/traditions, I'll call endeavoring to sit outside for at least one hour every day a ritual.

>Agape: Agape should be very thankful he isn't surrounded by superstitious people because if he was, he very much would be. As for rituals/traditions, he's latched onto that 'sit outside for at least one hour every day' thing that Henry does.

>Ernest: Not superstitious whatsoever. He thinks superstitions are silly. As for traditions/rituals, he didn't really have any until he got livestock onto the estate. Now he makes sure to go and spend time with the goats every day, mostly because it's good for the goats to get used to the presence of people, but secretly because he just... really needs company that isn't Elizabeth.

>Elizabeth: Same as Ernest. They used to pester Victor about his superstitiousness during that phase of his life, and thankfully Victor knew it was all in good fun. Or... well- at least he didn't care whether it was or wasn't, because he really didn't care about what anyone thought about him except for Henry. Anyways - back to Elizabeth. She has a tradition of sketching at least one thing she can physically see every night before she goes to bed. It helps her fall asleep!

>René: René would set up a ladder just to walk under it. He would steal a mirror just to break it. That being said... he absolutely insists on wearing mostly red because he thinks it's a lucky color.

>Percy: A very superstitious lad, surprisingly - if a superstition exists, he probably believes it. His way of warding off bad luck is keeping a rabbit foot on him at all times!

>Alex: His life goal is to get Percy to stop being so superstitious. He probably won't succeed but that's alright. He doesn't really have any traditions, but Percy gave him a rabbit foot and - despite not believing it does anything - he still keeps it with him all the time because it makes Percy happy.

>Jack: Is only superstitious to scare everyone else. She'll make up superstitions on the spot just to cause chaos among the more impressionable people in her life. She carries a raven feather with her wherever she goes though, sort of as a good luck charm.

>Cadieux: He thinks superstitions are pretty silly, but he respects anyone that believes in them and will absolutely do everything in his ability to make everyone feel safe. That said.... he insists on wearing at least one red thing because he thinks it's a lucky color. hm...

[authorized-trash]

The Passage of Identity and Time

2116 Words

Analogince

Virgil escapes to a better family, one that’s much more accepting.

Warnings: Anxiety disorder, depression, homophobia, transphobia, dysphoria, cussing, panic attacks, heavy crying, misgendering, use of deadname

       Virgil didn’t start out his life as Virgil.

       He started it out as Amber.

          Born in small town USA in the year 1998, a baby named Amber was born. Her parents were ecstatic. The gender of the child did not matter to them, only that they had one. They had been trying for a child for months before the news of Amber arrived.

        The baby was small and wrinkly, as most are. Her father called her a raisin, earning a swat on the arm from the mother.

        Amber grew to a healthy height and weight for a two-year-old. She could talk and walk by now and was quite the rowdy child. Her hair was growing in curly and that odd almost-black brown her mother was known for. Her eyes were a deep brown, with little specks of amber around the iris. Long lashes surrounded the round eyes, making her quite the lovely child.

        (“Oh, she’ll grow up to be quite the lovely child.”)

        Amber continued to grow, and by the time she turned seven, she had shot up to four foot seven, a good head taller than all of her peers. She had cut her hair by now, a cute bob all the teachers loved. Her young idea of fashion was mud stained shorts and tank-tops.

        By the time Amber hit ten, she could tell something was wrong. She didn’t understand why she suddenly couldn’t play football with the boys, and why she couldn’t just go to grandma’s Easter party in pants and a shirt.

        (“That’s not a very feminine look Amber, you are a young lady, and you’re old enough now to act like it.”)

        For now she could ignore the growing feeling of discomfort in her skin. Amber could pretend nothing was wrong. And when the other girls commented on her odd nature, she dubbed herself a tomboy.

        That’s right, a tomboy. The totally normal option, and the only correct one.

        The only socially correct one.

        … But then puberty hit.

        Amber hated how her thirteen-year-old body changed so quickly. She was five foot eight and had been dubbed ‘giraffe’ by the nasty boys in school. Her height didn’t bother her, however. No, it was the hips that thickened, and the chest. She hated it, hated that she hated it. She didn’t think she was bad looking, per say, just… She didn’t look herself. She didn’t see a future in the person she saw in the mirror.

        With the self-loathing came the depression, and with the depression came the anxiety. There was so much of it. By the time she turned fourteen, Amber couldn’t do anything more than stare at her wall for hours, too anxious to move, anxious because she wasn’t getting done, anxious for what this could mean for her. Anxious for the grades, but too anxious to get up and do something about them.

        Around this time is when she started looking at her family at an outside point of few. Picket fence, white, Christian people. Extremely conservative, and right winged. She started finding flaws in their logic, started resenting every word that came out of their mouth.

        Amber was a sheltered child, and only received a device with access to social media at fifteen. There, she found an escape, making friends.

        She discovered the term ‘Transgender’ online.

        Everything clicked in that moment. The more research the more tears. Amber outright sobbed as she read, this was it. This had to be. She tested it out.

        (“He found what he was looking for, and he knew in his heart it was the right choice.”)

        She loved the way the pronouns sounded, beaming, she ran downstairs to her- his parents. His, him, he. God, did that sound so nice.

        Amber ran downstairs to his parents, but stopped. They were talking again. About the people who pretended to be a different gender. It hit Amber like a ton of bricks.

        They were talking about people like him.

        He walked right back into his room and cried.

        The anxiety worsened to nearly unbearable amounts.

        Amber continued to research and found that he wanted to save up for a binder. He began a savings account, saving every penny he got his hands on.

        It took ages, but he finally, finally, convinced his mother to cut his hair.

        (“You look like a guy now Amber.”)

        God did that comment fill him with joy.

        (“You look like a butch.”)

       Don’t say that like it’s a bad thing, lesbians are lit af.

        (“Do you really like it cut that short?”)

        No shit.

        Amber had never felt more confident, but there was one thing missing.

        A proper name.

        He scoured every male baby name he could find. Scrolled through every writer’s website. Hell, he even looked at the girls names to find one.

        It wasn’t until he was studying old literature when he found it.

        Virgil.

        He loved the way it sounded. Virgil. Such a nice name, genuinely extremely aesthetic in his opinion.

        Amber no longer fit, it didn’t feel right. It never felt right. Virgil.

        Virgil.

        Virgil.

        Virgil.

        He was now a junior in highschool, owned a binder, had short hair, wore baggier clothes, and went by Virgil openly at school. By now the hate had long since died down, and he was decently happy. Still ridiculously and ludicrously anxious all the tie, but that was something to look into at a later date.

        Right now, however, he had to get away from his home.

        He loved his parents, but they were just so… hateful towards any kind of minorities. POC, LGBT, and anyone who wasn’t a white Christian were seen as sinful in their eyes. Virgil was tired of being forced to attend a church about a religion he didn’t know if he believed. He was tired of listening to their bullshit.

        So when the time came that he went to college, he moved into a apartment He had gotten scholarships due to grades he had been careful to keep up and didn’t have to rely on his parents money.

        His roommate, an agender person by the name of Logan Thomasson, was one of the nicest people he had ever met. Supportive too. Logan and him hit it off. Logan was a bit hesitant at first, but eventually told Virgil that xe used xe/xyr. Virgil smiled and told them he’d accept xyr no matter what.

        Virgil’s parents didn’t notice his efforts to distance himself at first. Not until the second semester of his second year, when they had heard nothing from him. By now Virgil had long since started testosterone, and his voice had dropped significantly. It was almost time for summer break, and Virgil was making plans to stay at Logan’s for the break again, when he got the call.

        -

        “Amber, honey, are you there?” His mother called into her phone with that sickeningly sweet voice she used when she wanted to sound nice. Virgil gulped audibly, staring across the room at Logan, who was sitting with him to keep his nerves down.

        “Yes mother?”

        “Are you sick dear? What’s wrong?”

        “No mom, I’m not sick.”

        “Then why is your voice so deep, Amber? You know I hate it when you lie.”

        Virgil bit his lower lip and closed his eyes, feeling the tears fall. He couldn’t delay the inevitable. Sure, maybe it was a shitty thing to say to his mother over the phone and not in person, but he wouldn’t be able to stand her face.

        “I’m not.. I’m not Amber, mother.”

        “… What? Sweetheart of course you’re Amber, what has gotten into you?” By now Logan had gotten and moved across the room, and xe was sitting on xyr knees in front of Virgil’s hand, putting a hand on his knee.

        “No mom, I go by- I go by Virgil now. I’ve been taking testosterone treatment for a year and a half now.”

        “Amber.”

        “No- Mom it’s not-“ Virgil choked up, “It’s not Amber, I’m sorry, I’m-“

        “Amber I’m coming to pick you up. That college isn’t good for you. I knew we shouldn’t have sent you to a damn liberal school,” his mother could be heard shuffling around, presumably covering the phone with her hand, “Adam, your daughter believes she’s a boy, a boy Adam.”

        Virgil started sobbing now, sliding off his seat. Logan was quick to scoop him up in xyr arms, holding him tightly. Virgil rested his forehead on xyr shoulder, looking at the phone in his trembling hand.

        “Mama please,” he mumbled wetly, watching the screen fill with tears. The world becoming a blur. His heart pounded in his chest. He couldn’t take this, he was going to have an anxiety attack.

        “No, Amber, your father and I will be there shortly. Goodbye.”

        The phone beeped, and Virgil threw it.

        He cumbled in on himself, crying hysterically. He wanted that to go better, damnit. Maybe a little acceptance. Anything. God, it hurt so bad.

        Logan shifted him around so that xe could pet his hair, mumbling xyr stupid math equations in his ear the way xe did, in that stupidly endearing way that Virgil loved so much.

        His parents, true to their word, arrived that night.

        They didn’t bother to knock. Virgil didn’t even know how they knew where he lived.

        Logan was the one to see them when they arrived, Virgil had locked himself in his room. Logan had suggested it actually, god Virgil loved xem so much.

        “I do not believe you are supposed to be here.”

        “Amber lives here, yes? Where is she, we’re leaving. You would not believe how this place has contorted her mind.”

        “Ma’am, you need to leave. Both you and your husband.”

        “Now who do you think you ar-“

        “I’ve already contacted security. The officer is a good friend of mine, they will see you out,” Logan smiled over the couple’s heads, at the officer who was standing in the door.

        The couple spun around, spotting the officer. By now Virgil had poked his head around the door. He might as well watch his parents leave, this may very well be the last time he says them this close, or not through a picture.

        This was a mistake on his part however, because when his mother flipped around to confront Logan again, she spotted him.

        “Amber! Sweetheart! You have to come with us! I’m not letting my baby go to Hell!”

        Virgil crept out from behind the door, looking levelly at his mother, “No mum, I’m not leaving. Now I believe Logan asked you to leave. This is his-“

        “Our, Virgil, how many times to I have to tell you it’s our apar-“

        “This is Logan’s home as much as mine, and xe wants you to leave.”

        By now the security officer had already gotten Virgil’s dad out the door, and had walked up behind the mother.

        “Ma’am, these two have asked you to leave multi-“

        “Xe? XE?! Amber! These are demons! You are possessed, please baby, come with us- please!”

        “Ma’am! Either you leave or I arrest you, that is a direct order! Out, now!” The officer shouted, furious. They escorted the woman to the door, Virgil’s mother throwing a fit all the while.

        “You’re all evil in the eyes of god! You will repent one day! You will!!”

        And with that the door shut.

        Virgil gave a small, defeated smile, looking at Logan. Logan breathed heavily out of xyr mouth, before walking up to the dark haired young male. Xe gave him a small kiss at the top of his head, ruffling his hair.

        “I’m so, so proud of you.” Xe said softly. Virgil snorted softly.

        “You think they’ll still let me go to Thanksgiving?” He joked.

        Logan laughed.

        -

        A week past and Virgil had done nothing but delete the nonstop flow of messages from his old friends and family. He had no reason to talk to them. Not anymore.

        He and Logan had started dating since then, and both were extremely happy. Hell, they had even been debating the pros and cons of inviting the cute security guard, who was named Roman, into their relationship. The guard had been flirting nonstop with the two of them, and honestly, they were smitten by the non-binary officer.

        A few months later found them all happily watching movies on the couch with Logan’s ball python Dee.

        A year later found them all happily married, with Roman’s brother Remus as best man.

        Months after that found them adopting an adorable baby named Patton. The child was a spring loaded ball of red curls and freckles.

        Virgil didn’t start out life as Virgil.

        But he sure as hell didn’t end it as Amber.

-

A little fic a did as a sort of vent

I wrote all in an hour and a half, and I honestly don’t think I have it in me to go back through and fix it if there’s mistakes.