#it might just be the t making my face more masculine but i look more Man now with longer hair than i did w/ a short cut

[omophagic-beast]

What a year on T does to a motherfucker

https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/1322863

(the picrew, if you are interested. does not actually contain an Archive 81 speech bubble unfortunately)

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anthology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

Part 3: Bubble Tea

“Hey.” Kyle murmurs, hand lightly grazing over your shoulders to rest on the back of your neck. His palm feels warm on your skin and you unconsciously lean back into it.

“Hm?” You look up from where you were hunched over your phone - definitely not shopping for a new purse on company time.

“Gonna go pick up lunch f’the shop. Want t’ come with? I don’t think I can carry it all myself.” He asks. His eyes are always so soft when he looks at you. Relaxed and bright with that constant slight quirk in the corners of his lips.

“Oh! Yeah, sounds good.” You grin, standing quickly and grabbing your wallet out of your purse to shove into your back pocket. Might as well get something for yourself if you’re going out. “Where are we heading?”

“That poke place a couple blocks up.” Kyle nods in the intended direction.

You follow him out of the shop. The weather has begun to warm more. Still cool enough for long sleeves but the sun feels nice on your face as you trot up the street, speed walking to keep up with Kyle and his accursed long legs.

“Switch with me.” Kyle murmurs, hand flattening on your lower back as he steps to the road side of the sidewalk.

You snort, cheeks warming when his hand remains a few beats longer than necessary. “How chivalrous.”

He chuckles. “My grandad always said t’never let a lady walk by the street. Guess it stuck with me.”

As much as you want to tease him about playing into gender roles, you can’t lie and say you don’t like it. That it doesn’t make your heart patter and your stomach flutter. Growing up fat, you never really got the chance to be treated delicately. Femininely. Always expected to be tougher, louder, more masculine. It feels good. Healing, in a way, as stupid as it is.

God, your inner monologue is embarrassing.

The shop is smaller than you expected. Tucked away like many buildings in this downtown with a short, blue awning shading the teal colored door. It’s surprisingly crowded too, people packed in like sardines and filing in and out quickly. The inside is nicely decorated - a few tables off to the side that no one seems to stay at. They more so seem to act as a waiting spot until people get their food and head out. The menu board is shaped like a bright blue, wall-length fish.

“Ladies first.” Kyle grins, opening the door for you. You roll your eyes at him, earning a pinch to your side in return. It’s almost strange how easy things are with him - with all of them. You don’t think you’ve ever been this comfortable around a group of men before. That would probably make you sad if you thought about it for long enough.

Kyle passes you a little clipboard with a stack of papers to customize your poke bowl and a small pen. He begins filling out three for the others, seemingly from memory. You wonder how often they come down here - if it’s their favorite local spot or just convenient. You look over his shoulder, snooping for the others preferences. Apparent Simon likes a lot of spice. Johnny, not so much.

Your eyes widen as you reach the bottom of your menu. “They have boba!”

“You want some?” Kyle grins.

You nod excitedly. Like a kid discovering a new candy. It’s been so long since you got your hands on some bubble tea - if you’d known they had it sooner you would’ve been in here nearly everyday. Then again, maybe it’s good that you didn’t know.

Kyle holds out his hand. You look between it and his face dumbly for a few moments, clutching your order in your hands before putting the pieces together.

“I can get my own!” You insist. “I don’t-“

“Price’s treat, love.” He snags the paper from your hands. “He always pays when we come here.”

“Oh. Okay.” You chew your lip. “I can at least pay for my drink, since it’s extra-“

He just waves you off and marches up to the register. You don’t miss the fact that he pulls out a very shiny credit card. So it’s not Price’s treat. It’s a company treat, eh?

Not that you’re going to complain. Free poke and boba is a dream come true.

Kyle takes your little plastic number, ducking to snag a now freed up table to wait at. They’re tall, causing you to scramble unceremoniously to get up in the heightened chair. You think you see him laughing out of the corner of your eye, but as soon as you face him he’s just sitting with that usual, casual smile of his.

One of the workers brings over your drinks in a little carrier, saying the food will take a minute longer. You’ve never been patient, greedily grabbing your tea and aggressively stabbing through the cover.

“When do you think John’s gonna let you do your first real tattoo?” You ask, kicking your feet under the tall chair.

Kyle shrugs. “He said soon. I think he’s waitin’ for me to’ be less nervous about it. Plus I need to find someone to do it on-“

“You can do it on me.” You blurt without thinking.

He eyes you. “Really?”

You nod excitedly. “I really like your work - at least what I’ve seen of it. It doesn’t have to be anything big. I’m perfectly happy with one your black-only flashes. That way you can start small.”

“I don’t know…”

“Plus, John says I sit real good. I’m not gonna wriggle and fuck you up.” You chew your straw absentmindedly.

“And what do you get out of this?” Kyle cocks and eyebrow, that slight, constant smirk only growing across his face.

You tap your chin. “Bragging rights when you get famous someday. I got the first official Garrick tattoo ever!”

A surprised laugh forces it’s way out of him, sending him into a coughing fit around the drink he was sipping. “Don’t think I’m gonna be that good, love.”

You reach out, resting your hand over his as a strange wave of seriousness overtakes you. “I don’t think John would take you on as an apprentice if he didn’t think so. Plus, you should hear how much he brags about you. It’s almost insufferable.”

There’s something in his eyes as he gives you another once over. It’s slower this time, dragging up your arm and across your features and back down your other arm, coming to an end where your hand lays over his. Kyle turns his hand upward, brushing his two middle fingers over your pulse point. It steals your breath, strangely enough. He hold your hand so gently, barely cupping it in his.

You wish you could tell what he’s thinking. For all Kyle’s honest and kind nature, he’s hard to read. That perma-smirk hides a lot more than you think you or anyone else realizes.

“Alright. I’ll talk t’John about it.” He murmurs, withdrawing his hand.

“Yah. You better.” You grin, leaning back in your seat just as the food comes out.

[ashtavula]

Hi hi!! So, I’ve got an idea:

ace, deuce, epel and jack with an s/o who showers them with affection after a big game or race? I recently got ace’s basketball card so the thought has been plaguing my mind since :’)

Gotta give some love to our sporty boys!

Showing affection to Ace, Deuce, Epel, and Jack after a game/race

Ace:

-Ace is nearly knocked off his feet when you tackle him in a hug. He's quick to wrap his arm around your shoulders, and you kiss him. His already flushed face grows a few shades darker, but he plays it off with a cocky grin. "Heh, I won the game! I deserve more than just one kiss, doll."

-Honestly, your affection is one of the best types of rewards for him. Hearing you cheer for him in the stands, and having you look at him like he's the only person that matters means a lot to him. It only makes him work twice as hard on the court, even if your loud cheering makes him feel more flustered than he'd like to admit.

Deuce:

-He actually doesn't notice you running up to him at first. All he can think about is how much his muscles burn, and then you crash into him. You almost knock him right over, but he's able to steady the both of you as you start to kiss him, overjoyed by his win. Deuce blushes, and gives you the sweetest smile. "T-Thanks, angel! I just know I can keep winning if you're cheering for me!"

-Deuce always looks for you when he's about to start, hoping to catch a glance of your face. It's really motivating for him to know that you're watching, and he'll do his absolute best to be the sort of boyfriend that you're proud of. He initially gets a bit embarrassed by the pda after a successful sprint, but he quickly forgets about that when you're giving him such earnest praise.

Epel:

-Man, he's tired. Using so much energy, both physical and magical, always leaves him feeling drained. Still, he welcomes you with open arms when you rush over, all excited by his success on the spelldrive field. He beams at you as you fawn over him. "Next time, I'll make sure the team scores even more points! Just wait and see!"

-Epel hyperfocuses on the game, so he never notices if you're in the crowd. Still, he loves knowing that you're out there screaming his name. It makes him feel more masculine, and he'll gladly puff out his chest to hear you say you're proud of him. He also likes to gloat about your relationship to his fellow team mates, just to see their faces twist when Epel reminds them that he managed to score such a supportive partner.

Jack:

-He hears you coming long before he sees you, ears perking up at the sound of you calling his name. His tail wags as you tug him down for a kiss, but he's quick to put you at arm's length, even as his tail starts swaying faster. "I'm all sweaty right now. Besides, I was just doing what I'm supposed to. No need for all of this."

-He likes to act like your support isn't that big of a deal, but he always looks for you before he runs. Your support means the world to him. He might not be the most affectionate right after, but it's just because he gets flustered by all the attention. Plus, he really doesn't want you to get grossed out by how sweaty he is. Once he's showered and you're both somewhere more private, feel free to gush over his successes, and watch his tail go wild as he blushes.

[rancidpancakebatter]

A Childhood Innocence-[S.H.]

Pairing: childhood!best friend!Steve Harrington x female!reader

Prompt: I saw this post and all I could think of was my babygirl Steve Harrington. 

Summary: Steve Harrington was your best friend once upon a time but years apart makes you see him in a new light. Takes place during season 2.

Word Count: 4.4k

Content Warnings: Mentions of blood, Cursing, Toxic Masculinity/"Man Up" Allusions (Mr Harrington is the worst and I want to roast him on a spit)

A/N: This is my first time writing for Steve Harrington and it was certainly fun. In the future, fics with him will be much more fluffy <3

also, only your father's last name is Stokes

(Y/N/N)=Your Nickname

Hawkins, Indiana is where you grew up, but not where you called home. It's where you were born, it's where your parents met, it's where you lived until you were ten. 

In the Summer of '77, your family relocated to New York. Your father was the second half of Harrington&Stokes and the company opened a branch in Albany. The Harringtons were much more attached to Hawkins society so that meant "The Stokes" had to leave. 

Your parents told you at Sunday dinner. Mr Harrington made a toast to your father and to the company's growth. 

"Albany won't know what hit it!"

You remember feeling like the world had tilted on its axis.  You gripped your chair tightly worried you might fall off. Your mother noticed your expression and tried to gently explain the change that was happening. Her words fell on deaf ears as you could only focus on the boy across the table.  

Stevie Harrington. Your best friend and partner in crime. Born in the same year and attached at the hip. Your moms were best friends and they wanted that for their children as well. So you guys did everything together. 

Sometimes he could get on your nerves but you had built a sort of alliance through the years. You both were often shown off as trophies by your parents at their company soirees. Perfect little children, both gifted. One with brains and the other with brawn. It was nice to have someone your age in that stuffy office. Someone who gets it. 

You remember your last sleepover. Your room was barren: all furniture and trinkets gone, save a small lamp plugged into an outlet in the wall. Stevie sat next to you in his sleeping bag with a glum look on his face. You're sure yours didn't look much different. 

"Are you gonna forget about me?" His eyes were glassy with tears he refused to let fall. 

"No, of course not. Besides my parents say we're gonna visit for holidays and stuff, so I'm not gone forever." You weren't sure who you were trying to comfort. 

Stevie just sniffled, nodding his head. 

The next morning you left and the Harringtons waved your family off in the Uhaul. Both your father and Mr Harrington teased all the "girls" for getting emotional. 

Your mothers hugged and cried and promised to call while you and Stevie sat in the back of the open truck, swinging your feet. He held your hand as you cried. He had to keep his composure in front of his father lest he face a lecture. 

After your goodbyes, the Harrington family stood on the side of the road looking similar to the picture above their mantle. Only Stevie didn't even bother plastering on a fake smile. Your father climbed in first while your mother held the door for you. You looked back at Stevie and tried to give him your most convincing smile before you scaled your way up to the seat. 

"Wait!" You turned to see Stevie tear away from his father's grasp.  

He ran straight to you, tackling you in a hug. You felt his tears fall on your shoulder and squeezed him tighter. Eventually, his father called out to him and he let go. He looked back at his father's stern expression and took an unsteady step towards him. 

"Here take this." In his hand was his woven red, yellow, and blue bracelet. 

You took it from him and risked another quick hug before turning and finally climbing in the truck. 

That was almost 7 years ago. You had visited for the first two years, but then slowly Hawkins became distant memories. You saw Stevie's parents when business called for it but between your nice private school, new friends, and ballet classes Stevie took a back seat in your mind. 

Returning to Hawkins felt like a dream. It was almost unsettling driving through Mainstreet, like opening a diary you had long since forgotten. Your new house was much bigger than the one you had left behind. It's a unique experience, returning to a place so familiar yet foreign. 

The Harringtons were waiting for your family as you pulled into the driveway. The lived just down the street. Apparently, the Harrington family had moved, not long after you, into the "nicer" part of town. Cheers and Shouts rang through the air as your parents spilled out of the Uhaul to greet each other while you and Stevie just stared at each other. Two strangers who used to be friends. 

He helped you unpack and set up your furniture all while trying to make awkward small talk. You told him about your life in New York and he tried to catch you up on his. He promised to help you adjust, to be your friend. He kept his word. 

Steve had changed a lot in 5 years. You had too, you guess. Like now he goes by Steve. 

"Just Steve, not Stevie or anything else."

He's a lot less shy, cocky even. You were surprised to see he's popular, nicknamed "King Steve". He was once a bit of a playboy but now he has a girlfriend, Nancy Wheeler, who seems really nice. He doesn't seem to care about grades anymore. 

But he was also the same in a lot of ways. He still played sports, both swimming and basketball. He still had the same sense of humour. He still loved watching movies and listening to music. He was still sweet (although he tried to hide that). 

What surprised you most though was how he had somehow become a babysitter. He wouldn't tell you much about how this came about. He did fill you in on the "Byer's Incident" though. You thought the tale was a little tall but everyone said the same thing, so you never questioned it. 

School was pretty okay. You assimilated with Steve's group of friends. Your classes were easy because of your previous schooling. You joined the cheer squad. All in all, Hawkins wasn't so bad. 

That was until October. Hawkins gained another "New Kid" who seemed to have it out for you and Steve. Steve because Billy wanted to be top dog and you because you called him a creep when he hit on you. 

Then Nancy broke Steve's heart at a Halloween party. He was reasonably upset and confided in you. You hung out after the party, talking it over. The day after she shattered it, unable to tell Steve she loved him. He was then further disgraced when he found out Nacy had run off with Jonathan. 

Steve got it in his head that he should apologise, for what you weren't sure. No matter how many times you laid out the facts to him he wouldn't listen. He told you he had to get her back and left. That was Saturday afternoon. He left and you haven’t seen him since. You were starting to worry. 

You figured, at first, that his plan was successful and he was just preoccupied. You waited around all Sunday to hear from him. Your parents were all out of town in Tulsa and you were instructed to look out for each other. You waited out at his house for hours and nothing. 

When the sun started to set you decided you would track him down. You riffled through the phonebook and found the number to the Wheeler's house. A sweet woman answered the phone but told you that Steve was never there. 

"Nancy's spending the weekend at Ally's, if he came to see her we would have told him the same." She must have sensed your defeat because she offered up some other information. 

"You know what? Dustin stopped by. Nance told me that Steve sometimes babysits him. He may know, let me give you the number."

You thanked her and hung up to call the Hendersons. Unfortunately, Ms Henderson didn't know where Steve or Dustin were either. She told you to call the Sinclairs, who told you to call the Byers. You called a few times and there was no answer. A dead end. 

You paced Steve’s empty house. Where was he? Did he even come home last night? He was a good driver but sometimes he was stupid, impulsive. What if he crashed his stupid BMW? No, no, someone would have called you. Surely his parents or yours would have told you if they got a call. 

After an hour of imagining the worst, you called Mrs Wheeler again and asked for the Byers' address. She warned you about driving up there in the dark and you didn’t have the heart to tell her you would be walking. You locked up the Harrington house and left a note for Steve if he did come back. You didn’t know how long the walk would be but you didn’t care. 

You reached the mouth of the Byers’ driveway exhausted but suddenly relieved. There you could see a car you recognised as Steve’s. He was here. You had found him. But then you noticed the obnoxious blue Camaro. What the hell was Billy Hardgrove doing here? That’s when you heard screaming. 

“Stop!” “Stop it!” “You’re gonna kill him!”

You started running up the gravel path. The screaming stopped before you reached the door. There’s nothing that could have prepared you for what was on the other side. Hargrove was laying on the floor with a bloody nose, a gaggle of tweens were standing in the living room, one holding up a pair of keys, and Steve was bloodied on the floor. 

The kids all stopped and stared at you and you at them. No one moved as your collective brains tried to figure out what was going on. Then you heard a small groan and remembered why you were here.

“Steve!”

You fell to the floor beside him cradling his face. He blinked a few times before you saw a glint of recognition in his eyes. 

“Hiiiiiiiiii” You wanted to strangle him for trying to be cute right now.

“Arthur. Steven. Harrington. I am going to kick your ass." He smiled and the blood on his lips leaked onto his teeth.

“Billy beat you to it.” And with that, his head lulled to the side and he passed out. 

“Shit, shit, Stevie? Steven!” You looked back at the kids still staring at you. 

“I need a damp wash rag and a first aid kit.” They stayed frozen, just looking at each other as if having a silent conversation. “NOW!” 

That got them to scramble. They returned with a warm washcloth and a handful of colourful bandaids. You looked at the kid you assumed was Dustin with a raised brow. 

“It’s all they had.” You huffed, accepting them and trying your best to clean up his face. 

The kids fell back into the kitchen as you cleaned him up. When you were done you did your best to move Steve onto the couch.You walk in interrupting whatever important meeting they were holding in hushed whispers. 

“I want answers. Now. What happened?” They looked at each other instead of answering. You were getting real sick of that.

“Hey! Over here! Why the fuck is Stevie knocked out on the couch right now?” They must not have appreciated your tone, because only the small brunette spoke up. 

“Who the hell are you?” You watched as they all looked you over. 

“I’m his friend, your turn.” The kids did another silent group convo before Dustin shrugged. 

“Billy came over looking for Max and Steve went to send him away because Max said he would kill us. Then he saw us in the window and next thing we know the psychopath is  throwing open the door and pinning Lucas against a cabinet, making threats. Lucas kneed him the dick to get away and then he was all like ‘You’re dead Sinclair. Dead!’ and then Steve was all like ‘No, you are.’ Then he punched him right in the face. Then he got a few more punches in, it really looked like he was gonna win for a second. But then Billy smashed a plate over his head and Steve fell over on the carpet there. And Billy was on top of him, cackling like a maniac while he punched Steve over and over. We thought he was gonna die, but then Max drugged him and then…well, you’re here now.” 

You blinked dumbly for a moment before cursing under your breath. 

“We don’t have time for this! We have to go, they need us!” You look at the brunette confused.

“Go? Go where? Who needs you? Who’s we?” 

“That’s need-to-know information-” The kid in war paint and a bandana says.

“Yeah, party only. And Steve. And Max too.” Dustin tells you. 

You look at them in disbelief. “Stevie isn’t going anywhere right now, and I assume he’s supposed to be babysitting you. You can’t just leave.”

“People are gonna die if we don’t leave, right now!” The brunette's face was red now. 

As you looked around you saw nothing but desperation on the faces of the children surrounding you. You were inclined to believe them, as crazy as it seemed. All of your paranoia turned out to be justified, maybe theirs were too. 

And that’s how you found yourself driving down the back roads of Hawkins in Billy Hargroves’ car with a bunch of kids you didn’t know and your best friend unconscious in the back seat. Not at all how you thought your night was gonna go. You were on a long stretch of road and the car was very quiet. Was very quiet. 

“Can I ask you a question?” You glanced in the rearview mirror at Dustin. 

“How about you each get one question and you have to tell me your names? Then I return the favour.” You saw some nods from the backseat passengers. 

“I’m Lucas,” said your navigator. “How long have you known Steve?”

“We were childhood best friends until I moved to New York when we were ten. But now I’m back.”

“I’m Max, Why do you call him Stevie? Are you dating?” You scoffed. 

“No, no, that’s just what we used to call him when he was a kid.”

“Dustin here, and you guys are asking the wrong questions. Is Steve’s full name Arthur Steven Harrington?” 

“Yeah, he’s named after his dad.” Dustin let out a laugh. 

“Oh my god, King Steve has the dorkiest name ever! Wait, his name is Arthur. He’s King Arthur! That’s kinda cool, actually. Why doesn’t he go by that?”

You huffed, “Dunno and I said one question.” 

Dustin’s face fell into a grimace. You glazed back at the brunette who sat silently staring out the window. He seemed especially stressed. You felt you had done a good job of calming down the kids, even if it was at Steve’s expense. 

“And what’s your name?” He remained silent until Dustin reached over to smack his arm. Dustin gave him a look of raised brows and that seemed to do the trick.

“I’m Mike.” His answer was short and clipped. 

“Nice to meet you, Mike.” Your attempt at warmth did nothing to soften him up. 

“Right, my turn then. I’m (Y/N). Now Lucas, where are we going? Like more than directions and more than some farm.” He seemed to hesitate before answering. 

“Look, this is all really dangerous. It’s better not to get involved. The less you know the better.” You were confused by his sombre tone. What did a twelve-year-old know about life and death?

“Well, I hate to tell you but I am involved. I’m driving you all to this dangerous location, so maybe you could give me an idea of what I’m getting myself into?” He let out a sigh before explaining you were going underground to set fire to a hive mind running through all of Hawkins.

“Right, of course. That’s uh…okay, sure. Max, What’s connected to this hive mind underneath Hawkins?”

“We’re not sure. We know there’s demidogs and whatever’s inside Will right now. I don’t really get it myself, I just joined this circus today.” Jesus, every layer of this just added more confusion. 

“Wait, Will? As in Will Byers, Jonathan’s little brother? There’s something inside him?” Dustin scoffed. 

“What happened to one question?” You let out a small laugh.

“Alright, alright. Dustin, What’s inside of Will?” It blows your mind how longwinded this kid is. But you remember Steve saying something about that. He gave the whole rundown. About how Will was kidnapped by an interdimensional creature and taken to the “upsidedown” and how he’s been seeing the “Mind Flayer” and how it got to him. 

“Wow, okay. Mike, What’s the plan?” He glared at you from the rearview window. 

“You don’t believe us.” You felt the venom he spit at you and you weren’t sure what to do with it.

“Mike it’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s just this is a lot. Imagine you’re me for a second. You go out looking for your friend and then before you know it a bunch of twelve-year-old kids are telling you the most boring town in the world is actually the epicentre of some evil dimension.” You hoped he would understand and maybe stop being so angsty towards you. 

“We're not kids! And we’re not twelve, we’re thirteen!” You apologised for the assumption while Mike continued to stare you down. You thought that was all you were gonna hear from him, but he must have decided you were genuine. 

“Our friends are trying to close the portal right now. The demidogs are gonna be swarming them, trying to protect it. The plan is to get to the centre of the hive mind and draw them away, clear a path for them.” You huffed out a sigh, soaking in his words. 

“So, we’re the bait. Got it.” 

The car fell into silence once again, the roar of the speeding engine filling the cab. You ask Lucas to give you directions again. Not because you need them, you’ve been to Merrill’s Pumpkin Patch plenty of times, but just to hear something. You needed a distraction from your spiralling mind and the nerves you felt eating at the lining of your stomach. 

“What’s going on?”

For a second you forget that you’re driving dangerously fast in a car you don’t know well without a license, and you whip your head around to look at Steve, relieved that he finally woke up. He sees your face and begins to panic and that makes you panic too. More so than you were before. You only turn back around when you hear Lucas yell at you to look out. You swerve narrowly avoiding a mailbox. Everyone starts screaming at each other and you snap. 

“Everybody shut the hell up!” Your head is starting to hurt, your brain being stretched to its thinnest in the last six hours. 

“Oh, wait,” Lucas says catching your attention. “That’s Mount Sinai. Make a left. Make a Left!” 

You pull hard on the steering wheel, coming off the road a bit before correcting yourself. Steve has not stopped yelling at you to both slow down and stop the car. You do neither as you continue to focus on Lucas’s voice. 

It’s not long until you’re crashing through the familiar “Merrill’s Farm” sign. You park the car and everyone starts spilling out. You take a deep breath as you hear Steve start to try to wrangle the kids. You hear Dustin trying to talk him down and decide to help. 

“Now, I know you promised Nance that you would keep us safe. So, keep us safe.” Steve begrudgingly takes the bag that Dustin hands him and Dustin makes his way to the hole.

Only as he’s walking away does Steve notice you rummaging through the trunk for your own gear. He puts his hand out in front of you to stop you. 

“Woah, Woah, Woah, you’re not going down there.” You push his hand away from you and grab your bag. 

“Uh, yes, I am.” He stands up straighter now, squaring up to you. 

“Like hell you are! You don’t even know what’s going on here, okay? This is fucking dangerous and I don’t want you anywhere near it.” You fix him a steeled gaze he hasn’t seen since you were kids. 

“Listen to me, Steven. They filled me in on the way here. As confident as they are that we’ll survive, both of us know there’s a really good chance none of us make it out. Someone needs to watch over those kids and only one of us here isn’t suffering from a possible concussion.” You move to grab the Axe you brought. 

“(Y/n)-”

“Look, you made a promise right? To keep them safe? Well, I did too, and I’m not about to let you walk through a hell dimension without me there to keep you safe.” You push past him, putting on your chemistry goggles and tying the T-shirt you found around your nose and mouth. 

“Hey, (Y/n), wait.” Steve goes to grab the bridge of his nose before wincing. “Let me go first so I can spot you.”  

That night he drove you home. The car ride was quiet. He pulled into his driveway and neither of you moved to get out. Both of you were thinking about everything that happened. 

“(Y/N/N), are you okay?” You blinked a few times before answering. 

“Yeah, I think so.” You looked over to Steve and you were reminded of the many years you spent apart. He’s so grown up now, no longer little Stevie. You didn’t realize you were staring until Steve looked away. 

“I’m so sorry.” He was looking straight ahead; his hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. “You never should have gotten caught up in all of this.”

“Steve it’s okay-”

“No, Don’t. Don’t you dare say it’s okay. None of this fucking okay. You risked your life today. We could have died. You…you were looking for me and that’s my fault. And now your life will never be the same.” You rolled his words around in your mind, polishing them like a pearl. 

“It was my choice. I could have left several times, but I didn’t.” He scoffed at your words but you cut him off before he could retaliate. 

“If it were the other way around, what would you have done?” Steve’s mouth opened and closed but nothing came out. 

“Don’t blame yourself, okay?” He shook his head back and forth as if trying to shake your reassurances out of his ears. You pulled on you your jacket sleeve and placed your wrist in front of his face. 

“Do you see this?” His gaze fell onto a band of braided thread, the colours muted after the years. 

“You’re stuck with me. I’m not going anywhere. And that’s my choice.” His grip on the steering wheel loosened. One hand fell to his lap while the other reached out to touch the bracelet in disbelief. 

“You still have this thing?” You just nodded your head as his fingers traced the skin of your wrist. 

In the glint of the streetlights, you saw his eyes get glassy just like all those years ago in your childhood bedroom. You reached across the console and did your best to wrap him in your arms. It took a moment for him to respond but when he did he held you tight. This hug lasted much longer than the one you received before disappearing behind the horizon in a Uhaul. 

When he pulled away he didn’t go far. His arms stayed wrapped around your waist and yours stayed around his neck. The expression on his face wasn’t one you recognised. His eyes were swirling with something, the chocolate brown of his irises deeply saturated. 

You never really looked at Steve before now. His face had matured a lot since you last saw him. His features are soft yet distinct. The moon cradles his face and you think he looks almost holy, a guardian angel damned only to protect but never protected. He has freckles of different sizes on his cheeks that trail down the side of his neck, the only flaws you can find. Even when beaten up he was beautiful. 

Steve was having a revelation of his own, several really. He knew you pretty, that wasn’t new. He also knew that he loved you. But now he can’t help but think of his conversation with Dustin earlier that day. Electricity was singing in the space between you. Had it always been there? 

That day behind the school gym he had called Jonathan Nance’s “other boyfriend”. She just as quickly called you his “other girlfriend” and told him he was just as guilty. He brushed it off at the time thinking it was nothing more than deflection, but now he wasn’t sure. He told himself that you guys were only so close because of your history, because he promised to be there. But these past few months he’s been relearning you. Your favourite snacks, songs, shoes, all of those things had changed and he loved getting to know you again. Now he sat in his car with you a breath away and he had never wanted to kiss you more. 

You had both been staring at each other for a while now, too close for too long for it to be acceptable between friends. You felt his hand move from your waist to hold your face and for a second you forgot to breathe. Your brain was doing pirouettes and grande jetés in your brittle skull. You watch his caramel eyes drift from yours to your lips. His thumb is tracing small circles on your cheek and you feel something akin to fire; pulsing flames dancing between you. He starts to lean in and you panic. 

“Stevie are you sure?” He looks at you with furrowed brows.

“Do you not want this?” Your emotions were fogging your brain, this was your last shred of sense he was prodding at. 

“That’s not what I asked.” Your voice was smaller than he had every heard. He paused, thinking through his answer. 

“No, I’m not but I think we should try.” And that was enough for you. 

Tag List: @Defrosting-strawberries, @fanfics-intead-of-depression, @heejinw0rld, @jedisstark, @Qualitybeliverflower, @rudy-the-winged-wolf, @scorpiolystoned, @wannapizzamymindposts, @whoreforklitz,

[ludinusdaleth]

hi y'all, it's officially been 1 year since i started T!

it's been a wild, wild year and, tumblr willing, im gonna share some progress photos.

here's a pic i took right after my first injection vs now. i think the most noticeable yet subtle sign of my transition might be just getting broader & thicker in every aspect and you can tell that down to my face shape & nose & neck.

sideburns, pre t vs now. this in particular makes me so, so happy. and im getting curly beard hairs which means.... i may have a curly beard?? well my mom wins the hair lottery in one way i guess, lol

when i first started noticing chin hairs (i think 2 or 3 months into t?) vs now - kind of have billy goat scruff going on as my body needs to create a neckbeard before a full beard, i guess, but im honestly happy about it. all ive ever wanted was facial hair. and i hope it grows into a massive bushy affair one day. i also definitely have a double chin now and it's honestly very cute & handsome to me.

my happy trail area (and i guess my belly hang, lol), pre t vs now

and some more general body pics (warning, slight but censored ns/fw), pre t vs me now. these..... stun me. not only does the first pic show obvious masculinization of the face but more than that - im bearing up! gaining about 50 to 60 lbs? one of the best things that ever happened to me, and i have t to thank. going from being malnourished for a multitude of reasons to the point it hurt to breathe, vs now being a "big chonker" to my friends. going from being terrified of any sign of being feminine in any way, to practically worshipping my moobs (also hella furry now - but im not posting that here) & learning to accept my hips. feeling like i am not a ghost who cant be touched but a person, maybe a bear today or one day, literally built with fat & muscle to aid & comfort those i care for.

thanks to everyone who has treated me kindly & been accepting over my progress - especially in wishing with all my heart to be a bear. a few years ago i accepted transition as something impossible in texas, and resigned myself to misery with jeers & looks my way, & death threats & isolation. and now.... it feels so opposite. i grin at conservatives looking at me in anger because i know they can be as mad as they want but im still me, and i have a support system, people who treat me so kindly it's made me realize how much goodness really is possible. i used to feel more wraith than alive. now i feel like a wolf with his pack, a fae in his domain. life is a clusterfuck but something ive learned the past while is you must seek the good in it. you must.

and i did.

[yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt]

Hi! I am fond of your fics, ty for blessing the fandom with such content :D /pos

As for the request... How about a short&sweet movie!goldenheart thingy with precanon transgender Ballister being a bit self-conscious abt his body and Ambrosius reassuring him (goes perfect with your body worship hc tbh)

Might be T, might be E, it's all up to you XD

(Should have I really turned the anonymous option on? I feel like it's really obvious who I am atp)

Anyway I hope you're having a great day and you get paid a lot of money B)

Hi hi yes finally finished this one, stranger!!! I am so glad you enjoy my work and I hope you enjoy this one!!! Ambrosius loves his man so much stg

Cw: referenced sex, some gender dysphoria (obviously) and minor internalized transphobia

Ballister admired his facial hair in the mirror. He'd been terribly proud ever since it had started growing in, and he'd cut his hair. He was grateful for the resources available to him that he never before would have been able to access as a kid on the street. Yes, his face was finally molding into a shape he liked to see.

His body was a bit of a different story. He was elated, of course, when he got approved for top surgery, but the scars were still very visible against his skin, they hadn't faded yet. He hoped that his chest hair would make them harder to see. And all that's not even mentioning that he'd not been able to get bottom surgery yet. The damn Institution said it would interrupt his training too long because of the recovery time.

It's not like it would matter. Ballister could avoid mirrors for the rest of his life if he needed. He'd never had to deal with his own body much. He was very good at distancing himself from it. That is, until, his best friend turned into his boyfriend and that relationship turned from innocent to sexual very fast.

It was hot, and fun, but honestly a bit awkward and miserable at first. Ballister thought Ambrosius was straight at one point. If a straight man liked him, what did that mean? Did the person he trusted most in the world see him as something other than who he really was? Then he found out that Ambrosius was gay and that was somehow just as stressful because what if he wasn't enough? What if his partner was biding his time until Ballister got surgery? What if he didn't like him as he was? What if he never did?

Ballister startled when Ambrosius entered the room, his lover's eyes immediately widened and he bit his lip. “Hey, sexy.” He slinked his way over and nibbled Ballister's neck, slinking his arms around his waist. “How lucky do I have to be to come home to the hottest man in the world topless in my dorm?”

Ballister snorted, as if it wasn't practically their dorm. He slept here and half his stuff was here, because this dorm was much nicer than his. They used his dorm as storage and a hangout to play video games in. They actually lived here.

“I'm happy I can be topless in your dorm, finally.” Ballister chuckled with awkward intonation, and Ambrosius kissed his shoulder. “I'm happy too, that you feel comfortable doing so. But you always could if you'd wanted, your body was never and could never be a problem for me. I just want you to be happy!”

Ballister smiled. “Really? Even if– Even without– I don't know. I'm masculine enough for you? I mean, you're gay, and you've known me since we were kids.”

Ambrosius gave him a look and caressed the stubble on his cheek. “I’ve always liked you. Gave me a whole crisis about my sexuality before you came out, because I exclusively liked men except for, I thought, you. Turns out my gay ass knew something about you before you told me.” He chuckled. “You've only gotten hotter, but you've always been perfect, and you'll always be more than man enough for me. Plus, no offense, Bal, I don't think you've got quite enough in the way of feminine wiles to drive my man-loving ass away.”

Ballister glanced at the mirror and burst out laughing at the sight of his muscular, bulky, hairy body contrasted with the phrase "feminine wiles". It wasn't that those things couldn't be feminine, but they certainly weren't in his case, and the idea of anyone seeing, let alone being attracted to him as a straight woman seemed a bit ridiculous upon reflection. “Alright, alright. Thanks.”

Ambrosius grinned and kissed him, fingers fiddling with the waistband of his shorts. “Now that that's settled, would you be interested in me sucking your dick and fingering you? I've got a couple hours before my next class.”

Ballister smirked, “Only if I can suck your dick and finger you.”

Ambrosius pretended to be contemplative for a moment despite the excitement that flashed behind his eyes. “Hm, yeah, I suppose I'd be amenable to that.” He grinned and in another instant, their bodies were melded together, just two young men in love.

[up-in-flames-writing]

This is an old Twitter thread I'm posting here as an archive, when I eventually get banned on there for not tolerating transphobic abuse against me.

Still pretty relevant tho, even tho it was written almost a year & a half ago.

I'm sorry, I don't know how to do alt text, so here is the image ID under the cut:

[Image ID: A Twitter thread made by user Booker-Garet Feniks @abookandabun. The thread reads:

So, lately, I've been seeing some Takes™ on transition on here, & as a transman who looks like a baby butch lesbian, I have some Thoughts™, so here's a thread

First thing's first: I am short. I am skinny (read: underweight), & curvy. I have a more or less conventional hourglass figure. I also have a soft face, big lips & big eyes with long lashes. I keep my nails long & my hair long & when I cut them, they grow back fast

By all means, if I were a woman, I would be, if not conventionally attractive, at least conventionally feminine, with my small waist, wide hips, my long legs, & even my tiny tits. Despite this, I dress masculine. I hold myself like a man, I deepen my voice

My voice is naturally a bit deep, but not deep enough for there to be any ambiguity about what's in my pants. I still speak in a fake, deep voice, & when I introduce myself, I do it with a grin & tell everyone very openly 'my name is Booker-Garet'

Despite this, I do not pass. I am constantly Miss'ed & Ma'am'ed when I'm out & about. People who know me need to be told that I'm a man & go by he/him pronouns. Imagine that, imagine calling a teenage boy with an unambiguous male name 'she'. Imagine how I feel

How I feel when none of my efforts matter. How, when I'm at my most masculine while pre-op & pre-T, people see meas nothing more than a girl. It's distressing. I know what they're thinking, that I'm a tomboy or a lesbian. If they recognise that I'm trans, they don't show it

And, I feel like it's easy to get mad at GNC women. It's easy to get mad at the tomboys & the butches & the studs. 'They think I'm you' you might think. 'You're too visible & I'm not, & they think I'm you.'

I find it easy to blame a lot of ciswomen for this. The ones who tell me I should've just stayed a lesbian (which I never was), that I should've just been a tomboy (which I was), that I'm a traitor to womanhood (so be it). It is easy to get mad at them

It's hard being a trans guy, when the only pieces of masculinity coming from a female person people are aware of are the ones who are women, who stay women & who love being women. I didn't love being a woman. I love women, I love my cis & trans sisters

But I can't help feeling bitter when they perform masculinity & no one denies their womanhood, no one on the right side of history. But I can be my most manly self & even my allies feel that I'd just be better off as a lesbian, as a masculine woman.

As if masculinity is alright, is safe, as long as you're a woman who performs it, but the moment you're a man performing masculinity, you're not worth the time, the effort, the brain power.

Almost as I'd it's easier for people to accept me as a masculine woman, with my deep voice & my masculine name, than admit to the fact that I am a man

It's hard to admit that you don't pass. It's hard to admit that I'm not a 'real man', whatever that means. It's not, however, hard to admit that I don't have privilege. It's not hard to admit that I face misogyny.

It's not hard to admit that if you're AFAB & masc presenting, nothing short of a Thor voice & a Gandalf beard, & body hair like a gorilla will make people see you as anything but a woman. Because if I don't say this, who else will? I can't let people live a lie

I can't let people keep on believing that 'transmascs have it easier', that it's easier for us to pass. I can't let people keep believing that we 'run away from womanhood to have male privilege'. Where's my male privilege, Joanne? Did it get lost in the Owl Mail?

People will keep on believing that we have it easier, that we don't face discrimination, that we don't get misgendered & assaulted & killed. They will keep believing that, & they will keep ignoring us & our oppression, unless someone finally says 'Enough!' & tells their story

& I'm a good story teller, so I'm telling you. I don't pass, I wish I did, but I don't. Many of my brothers do not pass. Stop ignoring us just because you think we have it 'easier'. We don't, & your inaction is allowing us to get killed. Do better

End image ID]

[cringevalue]

i posted this silly little thing about pre-transition eddie coming out to uncle wayne and i wrote an extra part with steve, but the writing was sloppy so i didn’t include it in the fic. anyway! i’m gonna post it here just for funzies.

tags: steddie, trans male eddie, coming out, a little bit more wayne & eddie fluff

wc: 616

“So, let me get this straight,” Steve started, scaring Eddie a little. Eddie expected everything to be cut off after this — hell, he expected to take a few punches before everything got cut off. “You don’t want to be called Elizabeth anymore? Or Lizzie? Or Lizard?”

“You’ve never called me Lizard,” Eddie said.

“Your Uncle Wayne has.”

“He’s my Uncle Wayne.”

“Fair enough.” Steve put his hands on his hips as he thought about everything, and Eddie groaned. “Give me a second! God damn. So, it’s Edward now?”

“Or Eddie.”

“Or Eddie. Okay. Okay. And you’re a boy?”

“Yes?”

“You’re Eddie and you’re a boy. Got it. So, what now? Do you just want me to call you a he?”

“I mean, yeah? Kinda.”

“Okay. That’s cool, I guess.” Steve raised an eyebrow. “Do you like girls now, or…?”

“No. Yes? Maybe. I don’t know. I still like boys. I definitely like boys.”

Steve chuckled. “That’s gay.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “You’re gay.”

“So… Are you cutting your hair?”

“No, I want to keep it long.”

Steve nodded. “Does this mean I’m actually gay?”

Eddie froze, his eyes widening just slightly. “I… What? Why would this-“

“Well, if you’re a boy, and I’m a boy…”

“Nope.” Wayne walked up and grabbed Eddie’s shoulders. “We’re done here.”

Eddie shrugged Wayne off. “Hold on… You actually like me? All that joking around was…”

“I wasn’t joking around. At least not for like, the second half of it,” Steve admitted.

“So, you-“

“I like you, Li- Eddie. I like you, Eddie.”

Wayne groaned at this point and said, “Fine! Get it over with.”

Eddie shook his fists excitedly as he walked closer to Steve. Steve grabbed Eddie’s jaw with one hand, pulling his face closer.

Steve tasted like mint toothpaste and coffee flavored chapstick, and Eddie tasted like the menthol cigarette he smoked out of desperation before coming out to Steve. Steve’s lips were soft and Eddie’s were more chapped and cracked than usual — he’s always been bad at taking care of his lips and face, but he had been intentionally neglecting that kind of self care since coming out to Wayne, because he thought it might make him more masculine.

“Five… Four… Three…”

Steve tried to pull away, but Eddie pulled him back, chuckling against his lips.

“Two… One! That’s enough!”

Eddie finally pulled away from Steve and turned around to face Wayne, who was refusing to look at either of them.

Eddie put a finger to Steve’s lips to keep him quiet and started making wet sounds with his mouth.

“I said that’s-“ Wayne whipped around, getting ready to pull them away, only to be met with Eddie loudly smacking his lips, holding back a giggle. “God damn you, kid. Say goodbye to your little boyfriend, we still have shopping to do.”

“You can borrow some of my clothes, if you-“

“No!” Eddie and Wayne cut off Steve in unison.

Steve raised his hands in mock surrender. “Jeez, okay. I was just offering.”

Eddie shook his head with a chuckle. “I’ll see you around, sweetheart.”

He gave Steve one last peck on the lips before getting forcefully dragged away by Wayne.

“I’m gonna beat your ass when we get home,” Wayne grumbled.

—

When they got home, Wayne forced Eddie to do a fashion show to show off the cheapest articles of clothing they got from the men’s section. Just to mess with him, Eddie had walked out in a t-shirt and his new boxers, making Wayne cover his eyes and scream.

Eventually, Eddie got to cuddle up with Wayne on the couch and watch a horror movie.

“You’re not gonna beat my ass?”

“Never.”

[gepperl]

TRANS MALE PASSING PROTIPS

Targeted specifically at trans men who have not begun medical transition, but for anyone. Of course, this is just what works for me and everyone is different.

Shorts that fall mid thigh and are baggy can work really well to make a more masculine figure. This is a trendy style with cis men, and if they are looser on your thighs you can look more rectangular. Basketball shorts are always fine, but for bigger people can end up sticking to your thighs and making you look like a masc lesbian. Looking like a masc lesbian is so so common guys this is what we are trying to avoid. See here for reference

2. WALK WITH YOUR SHOULDERS. Walk like your shoulders are the widest part of your body. Move them kinda forward and backward. Watch a video of a man walking next to a woman for context on what I mean. Women walk with their hips, and it makes all the difference for you in someone's head. Practice in the mirror before doing it so you don't look like a fool.

3. Hair!!!! I know you guys don't want to let go of the 2020 fluffy boi haircut and that is ok. If you don't want a skin fade short haircut, there are other options. Also, if you belong to a subculture, like punk/emo/whatever else there is, look at male styles as it can be very different than what is normally accepted ( for example, men have long hair in metal subculture, you can style it like them). In general, hair is very meticulous, as for some people too short is masc lesbian and too long is woman.

This kind of hair can do wonders. For men of color/curly hair people, if you are not out locs are a very good option as they are typically read as masculine but are gender neutral. Afros, braids, even skin fades with a lot of hair at the top can read feminine. Another style option could be short cornrows that end at the neck, twists, or a fade with less hair at the top like this.

I am not black, so I cannot speak for how this would be read in a black community, but this is how, from my experience, I would view the hairstyles. Sorry if this is not appropriate. Also, I am not here to tell you not to dye your hair. It can work if you style it with masculine clothes and are dressed in a specific style like emo or scene or something. Do what you will with that.

4. If there is ANY peach fuzz on your face, make the most of it. I know I have high testosterone levels naturally, so I grow facial hair a little, but if there is enough to dye it, dye it. If there is like barely any, if its not visible in the mirror if you're really looking (not INSPECTING), it's probably not worth it, and that is fine. use your judgement, and if it is not enough, just shave it. It's better to look clean shaven than desperate for face hair. Eyebrows, mustache hair, sideburns can all be darkened with eyeshadow, brow brushes, and just for men beard dye.

5. LAYERS. I know you guys have seen this one before. Flannels, button ups over black t-shirts, zip up hoodies. It might get a little hot, but it covers your sweat stains anyways. I promise guys it helps so much with shoulders, hips, boobs, it makes you look more masculine. Don't get that ugly ass red and black checkered one though. Think if you would see a masc lesbian wearing it and use your best judgement. I heart layers.

6. Pants. Woah. Pants. I HATE pants I know you fat trans men get me. Old navy women's jeans...and you guys won't like this one...are actually pretty good. SPECIFICALLY the sky high wide leg ones. Get those a size up and cuff them, wear them low on your waist, perfect. Other than that, jeans are shit. I don't really waste my time with men's pants anymore because of my hips but cargos are great, baggy sweats with the band at the bottom are great, PJ pants good, dress pants are a struggle but I've heard dickies work well for people with a smaller body. Not sure though. My tactic is I go to a thrift store for hours and try on all their pants, then find similar ones online or take pictures of the brand for the ones I like and find more.

7. Accessories and jewelry. Iffy. Anything you could describe as dainty, if it's not a family thing or important to you, probably not. Friendship bracelets are good, pendants are good, earrings depends on where you are and what you are wearing. Studs in men are common where I am, so I wear them. Observe the cis men at your disposal. Accessories, bags don't really matter unless they're like the strawberry hot topic mini bags. Don't get those at all those are fugly. Mini bags are not great in general, just better to get something else. Watches are heavily loved here they look very male and also you have the time always even a cheap watch is fine just not a woman's watch. It has to be a men's watch. You can tell when it is a woman's watch don't get those. Nail polish is fine no one cares, it's more popular now with boys. Especially if you're a little girly pop already. Of course that also depends on your environment.

8. Stance. Sitting with your ankle on your knee is comfortable and way more masculine than crossing your legs. Confidence. Fake it until you make it because cis men are so arrogant guys. This is what I mean btw

9. Don't be afraid of being feminine. Don't give up being yourself in order to be masculine. Your happiness matters the most. Love you bye, I'll update this if I think of anything else.

[nothorses]

hi! u can ignore this of course but I’ve just decided i’m trans again (long journey) and I had some questions and idk who to ask!!! again you can totally ignore this if you want!!! like i literally rediscovered i might (probably am) a trans guy last night and i’m sort of freaking out as for now. when i first thought i was trans i didn’t really like myself so this was easier but now i do and it’s sort of a totally different experience than what i was used to.

A big worry is, I like my face. like, I really like it and really care about being pretty and I don’t dislike myself generally just think i’d make more sense as a guy and that I’d be happier like that. i’d like to look a bit more masculine but just enough to look like a really pretty guy instead of a woman. can i still be trans or like should i look into my feelings being about something else ? and is there any chance i could achieve what i want with my face while still taking T (I really want the fat redistribution)? I’m also absolutely terrified about losing my hair and i’d heard it depends on my father? but i took the hair gene from mom? i don’t know.

I’m also really worried about dating? I’m bisexual but I’ll probably just date men (i like masc women but have never really met any that aren’t lesbians). I’m not mourning being able to be with straight men bc i’ve really always avoided them (no shade i just never could stand the thought of dating them which is actually one of the reasons i figured out i was probably not comfortable being a girl). Still I’m worried that queer guys won’t look at me twice?

I’m also going to be in a new, big city in september and should i just start by telling people i’m a guy? since i’m long-haired and don’t plan on changing that and i definitely won’t be on hormones or anything by then, I certainly will not be passing. I can do some voice training but I’m not sure to what degree that will help. I’m thin and have no curves that can be seen through most clothes so i don’t think that when clothed anything will be just outright obvious but i think if i speak to people it will definitely be obvious. should i specify i’m trans or just introduce myself with my very obvious male name and give no more explanation? I’m also autistic and was already terrified of never making friends (i have a good group now and tbh there’s no chance they’re going to be cool about this and i’m already mourning them lmao) and now the fear is worse.

If I had to weigh pros and cons i’d definitely say there are no pros to this thing that i’m thinking of doing, but i can’t imagine any future as a woman, (maybe not really as a man either but if i had to choose). I have trouble imagining myself with a straight man or in a wedding dress at this point or things like that, and there’s just been this disconnect lately. i like myself when i look in the mirror but maybe i’m just excited about being conventionally attractive. Still when I imagine myself it’s a flat-chested person. I’ve also been fighting for my life to not be trans so that might mean something. I’m afraid on wasting another two years on thinking i’m trans when i’m not, but the more i’ve grown comfortable and comfortable with myself the more i realized i couldn’t relate to women. Now that I’ve figured out i’m wondering about how to get through the summer w people that don’t know me and wearing a certain kind of clothes. I’m so worried.

Sorry for the vent or whatever this is. you can ignore and i do realize i sound absolutely crazy i’m just freaking out atm.

First off- congratulations on the gender journey! I know how hard it can be to go through something like this, but coming to understand yourself better is such a wonderful, rewarding, relieving experience, and I'm so glad you're taking steps towards what feels good for you.

And second- it's normal for that to be scary, too. It's normal to feel some fear and hesitation when you start to unravel who you are, and what that might mean. You're not alone!

It sounds like you might be feeling some time pressure around this, and my first piece of advice is that if you are feeling like there's a deadline and you need to rush to a conclusion or action before then, that's a really good sign that you need to take a step back, slow down, and breathe. It's normal to feel some urgency with this sort of thing, but ask yourself where that's coming from. It's one thing to want to "stop wasting time" because you know what you want & you don't want to keep waiting for it, but it's another entirely to feel like you have to make a decision to meet some kind of arbitrary deadline.

If you aren't sure what you want but you feel pressured to make a decision anyway, you should slow down. If that deadline is being imposed by some external force, ask yourself what it might look like (and feel like) to slow down and miss that deadline anyways. I really love the phrase "slow down to speed up": most of the time, trying to rush something causes complications and missteps that make the whole thing take a lot longer than if you'd just slowed down and done it right in the first place! If you're not ready, you're not ready. Let yourself be ready at your own pace.

That aside, I'll try to answer your other questions:

"can i still be trans or like should i look into my feelings being about something else?"

You can do whatever you want forever! There's no benchmark you need to meet in order to be trans, and nobody else can tell you if you're trans or not. Honestly, I recommend setting that whole label aside for a while, if you feel bogged down by this kind of question. Who cares if you "count" as trans or not? What matters is what you want, who you want to be, and what feels good to you. Labels should be used to describe what you already know about yourself, not the other way around.

Lots of trans people want the exact same thing you've expressed here, so you wouldn't be alone! And some cis people want that, too.

"is there any chance i could achieve what i want with my face while still taking T (I really want the fat redistribution)?"

Yes, there's a chance! How T impacts you is super dependent on genetics, so you may end up looking the way you want to... and you might not! I also personally found that what I wanted from T actually changed after I went on it; I ended up loving a lot of the changes that I thought I wouldn't like so much. Ultimately, my decision to go on T was mostly based around the knowledge that I was not happy with my body as it was, I did want a lot of the effects of T, and I decided I would be happier rolling the dice and trading off what I didn't like then for what I might not like later. I also decided that I could go off T at any time if I decided that I didn't want those changes anymore, and that I would be making the decision to be on T each time I took it, rather than once and forever.

"I’m also absolutely terrified about losing my hair and i’d heard it depends on my father? but i took the hair gene from mom?"

Male pattern baldness (MPB) comes through the X chromosome. If you have XY chromosomes (like most people who are AMAB), you inherit one X chromosome from your mother, and one Y chromosome from your father. If you have XX chromosomes (like most people who are AFAB), you get one X chromosome from each parent, so you can inherit MPB from either parent.

MPB is also treatable; if your hair starts to thin an abnormal amount, or if you're just worried about it (or have MPB on both sides of your family) you can ask your doctor about treatment options. There are topical options as well as oral medications, and while I have heard it's much harder to reverse, it's actually fairly easy to prevent.

"I’m worried that queer guys won’t look at me twice"

My boyfriend is a cis queer man... many such cases. Queer guys will absolutely look at you twice. Some will look at you thrice. Many will look at you twice entirely because you are trans, and some of those will be doing so because trans people are hot and they see us as people (and not just sex objects for their own benefit).

Also, I really recommend basing your transition on your personal happiness with your body and self first; if the people around you can't be happy for you, they genuinely are not worth keeping around. People who care about you in a real and healthy way will be happy for your happiness!

I'm so serious about this, anon. My dad changed his whole opinion on trans people when I came out because he a) did not want to lose me, and b) saw that it made me happy. The man was conservative (and maybe still is...?), but he cares about me enough that he reconsidered his whole worldview for me. You deserve that kind of love. Everyone does.

"I’m also going to be in a new, big city in september and should i just start by telling people i’m a guy?"

I like your idea of just telling folks you're a guy with no further explanation! This also really depends on where you're going, if you think you'll be safe in doing this, how long you'll be there, if you'll be starting T/expect to see changes.... etc. If you were, for example, going to Seattle for a few months and wanted to try the "guy" hat on for a bit just to see how it feels, I'd say go for it! If you feel like you'll be reasonably safe and you think this is the way you'll want to continue to be perceived for some time, that would also probably be a solid choice. But it's context-dependent, and I think you might need to feel it out for yourself and ask some folks with more context!

I also want to challenge the "girl/guy" binary I think I'm reading in your ask: you don't have to choose one or the other! Nonbinary people exist, and there is such an incredible range of experiences and genders outside of the male/female binary. So many people relate to so many of them, in so many different ways! Infinite gender experiences! If you feel comfortable as a man, that's awesome; if you feel like you might be something else entirely, or both, or one of them and some other stuff, that's also great! If this is all new to you, please take some time to learn more about nonbinary genders & experiences from nonbinary people. I promise it's more than worth it.

You are not alone, there are so many people who will love you for whoever you are, and good luck!

[one-winged-dreams]

Zack vs Adri's Fictional Parents

ship: adriel & zack (platonic) source: final fantasy vii word count: 1091 cw: transphobia, mentions of abuse, implications of physical abuse, parental trauma, you get it by now.

FUCK IIIIIT, I'm so mad right now I'm shaking, posting this before the guilt sets in.

Not tagging anyone bc it's kind of rough and I know I'm gonna feel guilty for it in a few hours but you're free to reblog it.

This takes place a little after Modeoheim.

"And the parents… Well. They're not acknowledging him at all."

As Tseng relayed the situation to him, Zack could only stare incredulously.

The fact of the matter was, Adriel was missing. As with Angeal and Genesis, the most logical course of action was to ask his family if they had any idea where he might have gone. Little context clues began to align. Adriel had dropped hints that his upbringing had been… Unsavory, to say the least.

But an utter disregard for their own child being missing?

"I have to talk to them, please, tell me where I can find them."

-

Tseng had given Zack the address, and he had followed it to a humble residence in Sector 7. As far as homes went, it was simple - perhaps a bit low-class upon further consideration.

"My parents werrre… Shinra wage slaves?" Zack recalled Adriel relaying this information with a tense, forced smile, "They all but sold me off to the SOLDIER program - just desperate, I guess."

Zack's fists tightened.

"Guess even the money wasn't worth keeping me around, after…"

He couldn't afford himself another moment to remember any of the things his friend had told him.

It would only make this all the more difficult.

With a sharp breath, he knocked on the door, immediately following by putting his hands on his hips and kicking the ground as he not-so-patiently awaited it to open.

As if he had been expected, the door opened after only a few moments, the visage of an older woman with a grim expression greeting him.

"Another one?" she sighed, seeming to analyze Zack as she looked him up and down, "A SOLDIER at that."

"The hell do you mean a SOLDIER?" a masculine voice followed from the adjacent room.

Zack didn't bother to speak yet, a tall man with an equally disagreeable face approached the door to presumably judge his merit as well.

And judge he did, quite clearly so, as he scowled at Zack and then at the woman.

"I thought you ran a Turk off earlier, what the hell did they send a SOLDIER here for?"

This time the woman seemed to direct her ire at the tall man, scowling just as forcefully.

"How am I supposed to know? If you're implying I didn't do good enough-"

"What the hell do you want? State your business or get off my doorstep," the tall man interrupted her to address Zack as if the woman were an annoyance and nothing more.

Clearing his throat, Zack crossed his arms. It was his turn to judge, and so far, these two weren't making a good impression in the slightest.

"I'm here to ask about your son-"

"We don't have a son," the woman interrupted now, glaring at Zack with apparent loathing, "We already told that Turk. You people need to correct those records of yours."

Zack let out a tense breath through his lips, steeling himself.

"Adriel. Your son. Your only child?"

The pair looked at each other before the tall man scoffed and shook his head.

"We had a daughter once. Had. Never a son, though."

"Oh are you SERIOUS," Zack exclaimed in exasperation before he could stop himself. He hadn't intended to lose his cool, he'd had every intention of civilly interacting with these unpleasant people to the best of his ability.

Easier said than done.

This obviously displeased the two further, the woman's glare intensifying.

"Watch your mouth, boy. Hadn't anyone ever taught you any respect?"

"Well maybe if you'd taught HER better we wouldn't be dealing with this right now, would we?"

Zack's jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together in an attempt to endure the horrific implications that he had been given the misfortune of hearing enough context clues to understand.

"Oh, so it's MY fault she turned into a good for nothing disappointment? I TRIED," the woman directed her statement from the tall man to Zack halfway through her sentence, "She had POTENTIAL, and she squandered it. I did my damned best to keep her on the right path, but she had to go and cast us aside. And for what?"

"PLEASE," Zack managed to keep his volume to a level that was stern but still civil, "He's MISSING. Please. Do you have ANY idea where he could have gone? Just- Just tell me and I'll leave you alone."

Even as Zack's fists clenched, even as he fought the tides of rage that swirled inside him, the pair only scoffed in unison.

"She stopped being our problem years ago. If she wants to disgrace herself further and become a deserter then that's on her."

Zack glared in exasperation at the woman as she disregarded Adriel without an ounce of remorse. He could hardly speak, struggling to keep himself agreeable just for this one instance. Just until he could leave and put these two out of his mind.

"She's become shamless, you know that. She probably doesn't know what to do with herself now that that 1st class she was whoring herself out for is g-"

Zack wasn't even aware that he had moved until his fist had connected with the tall man's face so forcefully that it sent him reeling back. Even as he stepped into the motion to grab the man by the shirt and shake him, his self-awareness was lost entirely. He knew he was speaking, knew that the woman was slapping at his arm and shouting, but still, he processed nothing.

It wasn't until he felt someone grapple him from behind and pull him back that he realized what he'd done, Tseng's voice becoming clear as he called out to him, "Zack!"

Everything rushed back at once - the sound of the woman shrieking at him, the sight of the man slumped against the doorframe, and the feeling of Tseng pulling him off the doorstep before releasing him.

"Zack, that's enough," the Turk spoke sternly, addressing him with equal intensity before looking at the pair in the doorway, "We're heading back, you've caused enough of a mess. We'll have to make a report for this," he sighed, clearly inconvenienced but not with a single ounce of judgment.

Zack's fist felt warm as he glowered at the two people in front of him, stomach heaving at not only having not gotten what he'd come for but for being shown proof of the harsh reality he had only been given glimpses of.

"You're right," he spat, offering one last hateful look before turning away, "He IS no son of yours."

[levmada]

i haven’t updated since 4.25 months on T

SIX MONTHS ON T NOW / top surgery update

it’s :0 levi month

- just when i think i can’t get hairier, i do😇happy trail is now visible in the mirror😩😩😩🙏and since i’ve gotten top surgery, CHEST HAIR

- the happy trail which might be because i started doing my injections on my stomach lol. i think ive got the right technique now

- i had a weird allergic reaction for 2 weeks? (not unheard of but i ignored it bc i didn’t want to go through the work of changing the type of t im prescribed🧍🏻) but im all good now somehow.

- i’m still dyeing my facial hair black but i have a semi visible mustache and sideburns 😇i am not keeping the mustache. but it helps me pass for now so so be it

- related my face is puffy (which is normal). it’s definitely noticeable how masculine it is though

- the fat redistribution is redistributing fat much more😩as of now that’s my biggest insecurity. but i mean this genuinely, wholehearted, and completely cringe, the way levi looks makes me feel a lot better about it😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

- nails grow faster

- ever since i’ve gotten top surgery and had to wear a vest/ace bandage, acne on my back HAS BEEN THE WORSTTTTTTYTTT💔😭maybe it has to do with upping my dose too, but it sucks😭it’s calmed down in the past week at least

- my voice has dropped a lot more since my last update. as for a recording…. who knows….

- sensation in 1 of my nipples has come back already (6 weeks po). it’s not. at full magnitude but i’m shocked honestly. 1/2 ain’t bad.

not sfw ⬇️⬇️

- yo😭😭😭it’s gotten to the point where it t*itches and th**bs and stuff WHICH IS SOOOOO AFFIRMING

[penname-artist]

It’s kind of hard to find any good source materials that I can pluck from in regards to discussing the “yays and nays” of writing convincing PTSD, but I’m gonna take the knowledge I do have - both from my experiences and from everything I’ve picked up and learned around that - and just leave a few key points lying around like crumbs for y’all. Mostly made with writing trauma in mind:

-Though there are exceptions, for the most part, your sex and horomones may determine how you respond to stress and trauma. Higher testosterone makes it much more likely to react to trauma in a more “stereotypical” way, fighting back with aggression, deflecting, sometimes turning to addictions as means of an escape. Some of that comes from toxic masculinity, but some of it is just from having less natural emotional depth or a harder time venturing that emotional depth. (In summary: men put off therapy. A lot.)

-Meanwhile, more estrogen-based people will more often feel the emotional wringing of depression or fear, and actually become more vulnerable to getting in toxic situations. When you’re at a low point, it may be difficult to make clearer judgements, and seeking comfort for the sake of comfort might end up taking a toll like any other negative outlets. (Again with “there are exceptions” because not everybody responds in these ways, there’s definitely a uniqueness to the brain’s stress responses)

-For ye writing people, here’s some ideas on not-so-good outlets one might turn to when facing trauma: alcoholism, painkillers and substance abuse, anger outbursts (towards people or things equally), emotional outbursts, self-isolation (can be anything from leaving a virtual chat to locking ones self in a bathroom - both of which I have done, *ahem*), self-harm (note that this also includes restricting yourself from things such as food, water, communication, sleep, etc), co-dependency (ie looking for whoever will pay attention to them regardless of what that might do in the long run)

-And here’s some better ones: hobbies, games (particularly ones that require focus), physical exercise, basic self-care (look we all should be taking care of ourselves anyways but lots of us just don’t so doing that actually really fucking helps. Dude sometimes a long hot bath and Epsom salt can just make me not want to unexist), m e d i c a t i o n,  t h e r a p y, positive social groups or support groups (not specifically a therapy support group, but any group that is supportive towards healing from things like PTSD), meditation- and/or just sitting with your fucking feelings and acknowledging it’s a THING

-PTSD is oftentimes this tree that grows from a root problem (this can be something like family trauma, war, assault, abuse, emotional neglect, loss, literally any situation which made the person feel helpless, physically OR emotionally) and that tree branches into various symptoms and side effects. Some of these are bigger and broader terms, like depression (feeling hopeless about ones self and life, often becoming so emotionally overrun that you’re just numb and don’t care anymore) or anxiety (sometimes social, sometimes situational, or both, or all)

-In other ways, side effects are very specific things that comes from the same source. These can (but do NOT always) include: nightmares, flashbacks, bodily tremors, tics, headaches, bowel issues, heart palpitations, and a broad category called psychosis (a big fancy word that means you sense something that is not actually there)

-On that psychosis thing, because lo and behold I fucking have that problem, it’s usually not as “real” as it’s made out to be. Even we question ourselves for the realness of it, which if anything kinda adds to the fear because sometimes you really don’t know. Anyways you can experience psychosis in a lot of ways, from hearing things to seeing types of hallucinations, to believing in the higher meaning of things around you and having types of delusions (I struggle with those the most). It can also vary in frequency. Some people see shadowy figures all the time at night. Some people hear stuff only once every blue moon. Often, they come in episodes that only last for a short period of time (hours to days)

-Another vague category is dissociation, a feeling of “spacing out” that might be kinda frequent and kinda freaky. People can dissociate in different ways so it’s a little harder to pinpoint how to feel, but to an outsider it really just looks like your brain did an Error 404 on you. Some people feel paralyzed and cannot move. Some people feel out of their own bodies. And some feel like the world around them doesn’t really exist. Whatever the case, this is closely tied to the flashbacks thing and it can really take you outside of the present moment. It’s easy to get lost.

-Trauma does not have to be around 100% of the time. Sometimes people can heal from trauma and almost function like normal again. But it may still always exist, and while manageable, some things like triggers (I want to cover those but I don’t have the time at the moment to) will still be hard to deal with and take time and gentleness to get through. Some people can overcome PTSD in months to years. Others overcome it in decades. Some never overcome it, but it gets manageable with time and taking the efforts to process and heal.

Okay that’s all I got time for this morning :’)

[hippolotamus]

Fuck it Friday

So, Monday is a thing that happened. And this coming Monday is gonna be... yeah, you already know. I was tagged today by @shortsighted-owl @spotsandsocks @alyxmastershipper and @heartbeatdiaz I was gonna be nice and not bring pain... instead I chose to drag a different sort of Buddie violence from storage. I never posted this one anywhere but today felt like an okay day to dust it off. Takes place somewhere in S4, but before The Shooting™️

No pressure tagging: @elvensorceress @ajunerose @alysiswriting @fatedbuddie @gayedmundodiaz @dreamingdiaz @this-is-bwr

Rating: T(?) | 2833 words

“Will I see you later?”

Buck tries not to look, he really does, at the way Ana curls into Eddie. At the way his body adjusts to her and he smiles and gently kisses her forehead. It’s such a natural fit is the thing. It’s like they were literally made for each other. Ana’s soft and pliable in a way that she can just slip into Eddie’s life. To start filling in the gaps where roles like lover, girlfriend, partner, wife have been left vacant. Not like Buck who feels like he’s constantly trying to fit where no one wants him. 

Eddie strokes his thumb across her cheek and she has nothing but shy smiles in return, lapping up all his affection. “Yeah, I’m done at six. Dinner at the house?” 

The chair slides a little louder than Buck intends but he needs to get away and do anything except hear more of this conversation.

“Buck? Where are you—” Eddie calls after him but Buck’s already halfway down the steps, toward the bunks. 

He huddles onto a top bed, facing the wall, curling in on himself so he can take up as little space as possible. Maybe, Buck thinks, if he winds himself small enough he could disappear and never have to face Eddie questioning him about what just happened. 

In the dark, Buck tries to shut out his own analysis of why he even cares about Ana. Eddie’s allowed to date. Buck doesn’t have any sort of claim to him. As much as he would like to pretend he doesn’t know, Buck is all too aware. Whether it was the well, the tsunami, Shannon coming back or some undefinable moment – he’s in love with Eddie. Not like friend love or platonic love. Love love. I’d dig underground with my bare hands and take a bullet for you love. He’s used everything from sheer willpower to random hookups to distract himself. But it’s never enough. At the end of the day, when Buck closes his eyes, Eddie’s is the only face he sees. Masculine and soft and warm and… not Buck’s to appreciate. So, yeah, watching Ana fucking Flores waltz in and take the spot he craves so badly is devastating. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Buck spits out, frowning petulantly, when the door swings softly shut. 

“Just gonna storm off and pretend nothing’s wrong?” Eddie asks. 

“That was the plan, yeah.”

“Are you- you pissed at me for something?” 

There’s a hesitancy in Eddie’s voice, making the question come out more gently than Buck thinks he probably intended. He sounds… hurt. And that somehow makes it worse than hearing him call Buck exhausting, or asking if Buck knows how much Christopher misses him. He thinks it might be better if Eddie would yell, or at least raise his voice. Then, maybe, Buck could justify staying angry. He might have a better reason than his best friend not considering him romantically, even though Buck never openly offered himself as an option.

“I said I don’t wanna talk about it,” Buck mutters, regretting the words as soon as he says them. Because he’s not pissed at Eddie. Eddie didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not his fault Buck’s madly in love with him. 

Buck continues staring a hole into the painted cinder blocks, hoping Eddie will just leave him to brood in silence. The quiet stretches between them and, for a moment, Buck wonders if Eddie left after all. But then he hears an exasperated sigh, followed by the sound of Eddie running a hand through his hair. 

“At least get your shit together for tomorrow. Christopher’s been looking forward to seeing you for movie night.” The don’t fuck it up for him seems implied. 

Buck hears the sound of Eddie’s boots moving toward the door before he can come up with a response. Not that he would have a decent one. What he really wants to know is if Ana will be invading that, too. If she’ll find a way to take away boy’s night. But then the alarm sounds and he doesn’t have any more time to mope like a teenager. Thankfully, the rest of the shift passes quickly with fairly routine calls that let Buck rely on muscle memory and not have to interact too heavily with Eddie. A fender bender on the highway, an assist to help an elderly gentleman who fell, a garage fire. 

At the end of their shift, Buck grabs his bag and heads for the Jeep before one more person can question his mood. He doesn’t even bother to hit the showers first. There’s a general chorus of voices trying to get his attention, but he keeps his focus ahead, only interested in getting back to his loft. Besides, he doesn’t want to be the reason Eddie is late getting home to Ana. Buck may be in love with the guy, but he ultimately wants his best friend to be happy. That’s what best friends do, right? And Ana seems to tick all the boxes. She makes Eddie ridiculously happy. So who is Buck to get in the way of that?

**********

Buck’s leveled up to version 2.0, 3.0. Hell, he’s not entirely sure what version he’s up to by now. What he does know is the strawberry blonde eyeing him up from the bar might be just his type tonight. She’s all curves and soft edges, porcelain skin like she might break if he’s not careful. As far from broad shoulders and six pack abs and a tanned complexion as possible. Buck maintains eye contact as he takes a long sip from his beer, feeling a familiar comfort settle in when she sets her drink down and nods her head toward the restrooms. He knows this game, this he can do.

He slips into the room, locking the door behind them. “I’m Bu-”

“Shut up,” she commands, cutting him off with a kiss and walking them back against the wall, hands already scrambling for his belt buckle. He never does learn her name, or anything else, except that she’s a perfect escape for the next eight or so minutes. It turns out her delicate features are more than a little misleading. She looks completely at ease when she’s bent over, hands gripping the edge of the sink, telling him to fuck her harder, faster. She takes and demands and Buck is all too happy to give whatever she needs if it helps him forget Eddie for a while. 

When he does come, digging into her hips and biting his lip so he isn’t too loud, the spell breaks. She stands to fix her dress, gives him a squeeze on the shoulder and leaves without a word. Buck tosses the condom in the trash and cleans himself up, somehow feeling worse. More empty. It shouldn’t sting, at least not more than it did for Buck 1.0. And yet there’s a hollow feeling in his chest. He straightens up, checks for visible marks or stray lipstick stains and walks out. Out of the restroom, through the bar and the parking lot, to the Jeep. His one constant in life. 

The feeling follows him for the duration of the drive home. It swells a bit when he absentmindedly drives by Eddie’s house, not quite sure how he ended up on this route to begin with. All he can do is blame muscle memory, too many nights crashing on Eddie’s couch. When Buck opens the door to his loft, climbs the stairs to his bed and falls into the mattress, the cavernous ache persists. He feels a bit like an abandoned shell, washed up on the beach. Echoing around him, the only sound is the waves whispering Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

***********

“Finally,” Christopher teases when he opens the door for Buck, letting out an exaggerated sigh. Buck could have used his key, but ever since Ana’s been around he hasn’t felt comfortable. He knows he has a standing invitation, it just doesn’t feel quite as open now. 

“Hey, get back here!” Buck chases after Christopher, sweeping him in a tight embrace and twirling them both in a circle. Chris squeals with laughter and Buck feels so full of love he might burst. They’ve spun about two rotations when he freezes at the sight of Ana walking out of Eddie’s kitchen and sets Christopher down. 

“Oh,” Buck says. “I, um, I didn’t realize you were going to be here.” 

For as long as Eddie’s been seeing her, Buck has gone out of his way to avoid being in any mutual locations if he can help it. He puts up with her at the firehouse because it’s not really his decision. Besides, there’s usually an open bunk or a truck that needs waxed. 

“Don’t worry, Buck. Movie night is safe. I was just leaving.” She smiles and he almost feels bad about how she grates on his nerves. “Goodnight, Christopher! See you soon?”

Buck feels something like jealousy twist around him when Christopher wraps his arms around her waist for a quick hug. He has to turn away, coughing to cover the whimpering cry that wants to come out. Buck has to remind himself that, no matter what claims he does have, Eddie’s not his and neither is Christopher.

“Goodnight, Buck.” Ana waves before disappearing behind the front door. 

Christopher and Buck settle on the couch while Chris shows off the latest book he checked out of the school library. Buck listens to his excited tone spilling out facts about the planets, their different properties and why humans couldn’t live on them. He makes a mental note to start researching telescopes for Christopher’s birthday. 

“Everyone decide on a pizza topping?” Eddie suddenly appears, his hair looking slightly damp like he might have just emerged from the shower. When he sits to the other side of Christopher, Buck is sure he can still detect the scent of Ana’s perfume under the layers of body wash. 

“Pineapple!” Christopher announces before looking over. “What do you want, Buck?” 

Buck smiles and ruffles his curls. “I’ll have whatever you’re having, buddy.”

Christopher gives him a huge grin, then turns to Eddie. “Dad?” 

“Since when do I get anything different?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Pepperoni and green peppers.” Christopher rolls his eyes in response. “Except when Ana’s here. Then you just get what she wants.”

“Oh.” Buck raises an eyebrow at Eddie, hoping he comes off as teasing instead of possessive and jealous. “Is that so?”

“You two pipe down and pick a movie. I’ll be right back.” Eddie strides off to call in the order while Buck and Christopher exchange teasing glances.

They debate politely on the merits of Zootopia versus The Secret Life of Pets or classics like The Lion King or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Christopher naturally wins (because Buck can’t say no to him), choosing Zootopia. Thoughts of Ana are quickly forgotten by the natural rhythms of movie night. Eddie dims the overhead lamp and the three of them huddle on the couch to start watching. It’s easy to feel like he belongs here, like this is how it should be. The pizza arrives and he moves easily around Eddie’s kitchen grabbing plates and napkins. 

“Can Buck read me a story?” Christopher asks between yawns when the credits roll. 

“Of course I can.” Buck will take every little moment possible with Christopher before Ana steals him away. “Go put your PJs on and brush your teeth. I’ll be right there.”

Eddie turns off the movie and they work in silence to clean up the dinner mess. It’s a well practiced routine that allows Buck’s mind to be quiet. Even if just for a few minutes. They’re just finishing when Christopher bellows down the hall to announce he’s ready. Buck reads him a chapter about dwarf planets from a National Geographic book, and then Where the Wild Things Are. He spares a moment to cherish the way Christopher leans into him, his head occasionally dropping against Buck’s chest while he struggles to stay awake. 

“Goodnight, Chris.” Buck presses a kiss into his curls, helping him slide under the covers before slipping his glasses off to sit on the nightstand. After Buck turns the light out, the temptation to watch Christopher – for just a minute – before closing the door is too great. So he leans against the doorframe, noting the rise and fall of Christopher’s chest, the way his small frame manages to take up so much room on the bed. 

“He’s not going anywhere you know,” Eddie murmurs softly behind him. 

It sounds a lot like I’m not going anywhere, but the words don’t do anything to soothe the feeling in his gut that makes Chris already feel out of reach. Are you sure? Can you really promise that? 

“I know. I just-” Want as much of him as I can before she shuts me out. Before I’m not the one he wants anymore. Before I can’t be the one to do this. “He just looked so peaceful.” 

Buck closes the bedroom door, silently making his way back to the living room. Usually he and Eddie would stay up talking, grab a beer, maybe watch some action flick that Christopher won’t be allowed to see for at least another six or seven years. Or never, if Buck has anything to say about it. But he doesn’t really want to tonight. Not when every thought leads back to Ana and Eddie and how Buck doesn’t really fit in anymore. Especially when Eddie throws it right out in the open, like he’s the poster boy for healthy communication.

“So, you wanna tell me what yesterday was about?”

He feels his body tighten in response, an unwelcome tension taking over any remnants of calm. “It was nothing,” Buck lies. “I’m fine.”

Eddie grabs his shoulder, ducking his head so Buck is forced to look him in the eye. “You sure as hell didn’t look fine. C’mon, Buck. You can have my back and I can have yours, remember? What’s going on?”

What is he supposed to say? Oh, by the way, I’m in love with you. Just thought you should know. He can’t tell Eddie the truth and doesn’t feel like he can lie any more about it either. He swallows the answer and says the most honest thing he can manage.

“I’m just- I’m not ready to talk about it, okay?” 

Eddie inhales sharply, like he’s tempering a response, nodding slowly. “Okay. If you aren’t ready, I trust you. Just-” Something like sadness flickers over Eddie’s face. “Just know that I’m here, alright? Whenever you are ready.”

“Yeah, I know.” Buck lets himself be pulled into a tight embrace, memorizing the way Eddie feels wrapped around him, the places his fingers settle, the way he feels like home. He turns his head so he’s nestled against Eddie’s neck and breathes him in. Buck tries to think of it as his space and not one he probably has to share with Ana. They hold onto each other longer than friends should but Buck can’t bring himself to let go. He wants every second, wants his actions to show what words can’t. Not yet anyway. 

“See you tomorrow?” Eddie sounds hesitant like he recognizes the moment for what it is, even though he couldn’t possibly know the storm raging inside Buck’s head.

Buck nods against his shoulder before forcing some distance between them. If he doesn’t leave now, he won’t. “Sure. See you tomorrow, Eds.” He picks his keys up from the hook by the front door and walks out. Into the night, through the grass, to his faithful Jeep. 

Streetlights and traffic signals pass in a blur while a nebulous ache settles over him. With each passing mile it wraps tighter, concentrating into a mass behind his ribcage, threatening to take over the space where his heart and lungs are. Buck ignores it, cranking the radio up, refusing to poke at the feeling. He works to maintain his focus on the road, on parking beside his building, on putting one foot in front of the other until he reaches his door. 

Once he’s changed into sleep shorts and his favorite cream-colored hoodie, Buck climbs under the comforter, laying on his back and staring at the ceiling. He lets a hand drift to his chest for some sort of counterpressure to the throbbing discomfort inside him, like pressing a release. The jumble tightens for just a second before allowing the mass of unsaid words, loneliness, want, longing and jealousy to unravel. He barely recognizes the howl that escapes as his own, followed by a steady stream of tears and tucking himself into a fetal position hoping, once again, that if he curls tight enough he could disappear. 

Before sleep claims him, Buck runs his tongue over his lips, swiping aside the salty mix and blending it with the only words he seems capable of. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie…

[missswag]

Sit Down

Delancy Devins x F!Reader short fic

*not my gif and I don’t own barbie.

—

I pace back and forth in the castle hallways outside my chambers. Man, Delancy is going to be so pissed at me.

I got into a fight with another guard since he decided to comment on Delancy’s figure. Resulting in a nasty black eye and a busted lip, but hey you should’ve seen him.

Delancy’s grown a lot since Princess Charm School, I would know since I’ve dated her since we were 16. I might be the more masculine one but she definitely wears the pants and hates when I get in “silly fights” as Delancy says.

I take a deep breath and slowly enter the room knowing she’ll be there.

Whenever the door opens all the way Delancy is sitting at her desk in the corner writing stuff down. I gulp and close the door and slowly walk over.

“Hey D…” I sheepishly greet her.

I Watch Delancy stop writing and turn around fast. Her eyes are narrow and geez am I in deep shit.

“You!” She starts off in that tone, I grimace knowing I’ll get a lecture.

“I’ve told you a million times to watch your temper, and what do you do? Get in another silly fight.”

Told you.

I sigh and give her the sorry eyes. “I know I know and I’m sorry, but if you heard the way he was talking about you-“

Delancy walks over and grabs my face lightly inspecting it for damage.

“I don’t care, he can say all he wants. I’m the one who has to patch you up every time.” She says strictly, I look into her deep brown eyes and fall in love all over again.

Delancy might be…peachy, but with me I see the tenderness she hides away. The soft sweet smiles in the morning, and the late night kisses.

“I know, and I’m sorry.” I try to give her a small reassuring smile but pain shoots through my lip.

Delancy sighs and caresses my face softly before walking over to the bathroom to get the first aid kit, which we use a lot.

Not only am I got tempered but unnaturally clumsy. She comes back with it in hand and pushes my chest to sit down on her desk.

“Sit down, and don’t move.” I nod my head, and feel my heart speed up, I love it when she commands me.

Delancy stands in front of me, and reaches up to wipe some of the blood away. I close my eyes and smirk a little.

“So does the black eye make me look sexy?” I ask teasingly.

Delancy scoffs and I peak my eyes open to see her shake her head slightly. I know she’s calmed down a little so I relax and let her patch me up.

A few minutes go by when I feel her pull away, “There good as new.” She says, I open my eyes and catch her hand when she goes to throw the wipes away. I pull her into me and kiss her softly on the lips.

I feel her melt into me, and wrap her hands around my neck. I pull away, and let her back away so I can stand up.

“Thank you Dr. Devins.” I say teasingly while walking to my closet to change into some sleep wear.

I lift up my shirt and take off my bra and find a over sized t-shirt to sleep in and some shorts.

After I’m done changing I walk over to the bed and sit and wait for Delancy, she comes back with her hair down in wavy curls and just some panties and a T-shirt, my T-shirt might I add.

She walks over and pushes me onto the bed to lay on top of me. I wrap my arms around her and feel her relax.

“I’m just glad you’re okay.” She says into my neck. I kiss the top of her head, and rub her back in slow circles.

“I’m just glad I’m with you.”

—

There’s you some fluff you filthy animals.

Just kidding, don’t take offense. Please request some more stuff involving Delancy.

[takemyopenheart]

The Best Nights Are With You

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey and f!MC (Luz Beltrán) | Category: fluff | Rating: T | Warnings: none | Word Count: 623 | AO3 link

Summary: Ethan deals with his drunk girlfriend.

A/N: A HUGE thanks to mvalentine for sending me the “I have a bf” prompt. It’s been 84 years, but at long last I’ve finished a mini Luzthan fic. Thanks for reading!

A completely wasted Luz is a rare sight to see since her college days. And Sienna’s birthday party is one of these rare instances.

You can tell she’s had a few too many when she practically fights her way to the karaoke stage, WWE style.

Ethan lets her finish her third song in a row—a screeching rendition of Where My Girls At by 702—before he makes his way over to her to tell her it’s time to call it a night.

It’s not the rowdy atmosphere it was an hour ago. Besides the cat’s death screams—I mean, Luz’s singing—the birthday girl and the rest of her former roommates cheer her on.

The song fades out, and Luz delivers the final lyric feeling like Mariah Carey at Madison Square Garden, when a giant figure steps into her spotlight.

“Hey man, just one more! Please? How about some Chingy! WOO! Hey, you want to sing some Chingy with me?” she asks the stranger, shielding her eyes under the harsh lights.

“No, Luz, there’s no time for some, er, Jingy. They’re closing soon, we have to go.”

“What a buzzkill,” she murmurs, sighing in disappointment. “You know, you remind me of someone.”

“Do I?” He arches a brow in question. “And who might that be?”

An adorable full-blown smile illuminates her face before she scans the room with squinted eyes. “He’s here somewhere. I should go look for him, actually.”

Her speech is slurred, and the fact that she doesn’t recognize him is indication enough that the best thing she needs is water, a meal, and a good night’s sleep.

He takes her hand to prevent her from stumbling when she immediately pulls away.

“Hey, I have a boyfriend! And he’s big and he’s scary if you get on his bad side, just so you know.”

“Is he now? May I at least help you over to your friends so you won’t fall?”

She looks over at Sienna and the gang, who are looking in their direction, giggling.

“Party pooper Ramsey over here called us an Uber!” Bryce shouts, looking at the man holding her steady.

The lights aren’t as bright as they were on that stage, and looking up, realization dawns on her. There is that smirk she so loves, the pair of luscious lips she constantly craves, and those heavenly azure eyes.

“Wow, you’re so pretty,” she whispers in amazement.

“As well as big and frightening, according to you.”

“Oh, you’re big all right.” Her eyebrows wiggle as she attempts a wink.

Ethan can’t help but chortle in amusement. Her make-up is smeared, her long dark waves are unruly, yet she remains the most beautiful woman he’ll every lay his eyes on.

He finds them a seat, but Luz opts for sitting on his lap, and wraps her arms around his neck.

“Is there anything in particular you’re hungry for? You should eat something,” he says, tucking her hair behind her ears.

“I’m hungry for something in particular, if you know what I mean.”

She keeps blinking at him, until he realizes she’s winking at him, or trying to.

“We’ll schedule that for another time, I promise you. But for now, some food would do you better.”

“Mhm, yeah, yeah.” She digs her face in his neck. His masculine cologne and the lulling rhythm of his heartbeat soothe her senses.

There’s no where else she’d rather be than in the safety of his arms… that or under that spotlight singing Right Thurr had he not pulled her away.

She’ll make sure he makes it up to her next time.