#me now: is literally misgendered every single day of my life and i know that if i say anything i will yelled at from dusk til dawn

[cuntylittlesalmon]

i don’t think correcting pronoun usage once after several times of misgendering counts as “over correcting” but god, what do i know as a literal trans person versus a cis woman who’s taken a seminar on how to be inclusive of trans people

[trans-androgyne]

I'm so sick of this. Trans men could be fucking like "lets have a discussion about unsavory attitudes or actions within queer communities when it comes to gender" and a bunch of fucking people INCLUDING OTHER TRANS MASCS are like "wooooooow cant believe youre attacking TRANS WOMEN like that this is obviously bigotry. after all theyve been through?? I am going to assume this mild criticism is about trans women (which you never said it was at all even once) and THEN tell you that because transphobia exists any disagreement with a trans woman means you want her to be HARASSED. I can't believe you think harassment is okay. also even though trans women are poor victims (I am speaking on behalf of all trans women) who you arent allowed say anything in opposition to (I think trans women are defenseless and attack people based on the idea that any criticism is trying to ruin their lives) (don't you know its impossible for a trans woman to ever be treated with respect or have a good life ever and in fact they are all doomed to being treated horribly?) (this is me HELPING trans women by the way I'm an ALLY) and trans men are the problem and somehow even though we're all in the same community Poor Trans Women are so oppressed they would be RUINED by disagreements (I am speaking on behalf of every trans woman and I know not a single one wants to have an interesting discussion about oppression or gender) this is me being an ally btw I could never be transmisogynistic by talking like this. also somehow transphobes check what type of trans you are, if youre a trans woman they hate you and if youre a trans man they say "yay you're a man" and treat you wonderfully because if youre a man youre always treated well no matter what other types of oppression you might face I think of this as being progressive.

Sorry for the long rant(?) I have a lot of thoughts. In summary: some people see themselves as such trans woman defenders that they a hundred percent loop around to infantilising them by implying its too hurtful to have a conversation. I've seen this exact type of behaviour as a trans man when it comes to misgendering. someone slips up and instead of being like "oops I mean he" they go some equivalent of "oh my gosh im sooooo sorry i cant believe I did that to you you probably feel miserable have I ruined your day oh my goodness dont cry ill make it up to you I know you have now become an emotional wreck from the horrible thing I did to you im sorry im sorry im sorry I just need to make sure everybody can hear how HURT you are by one misgendering" this is an example of how "being an ally" loops around to calling you fragile and a literal baby. They make it worse even though theyre "on your side" by implying you cant handle anything and they have to "fix it" because you just would collapse immediately at something maybe affecting you.

On the one hand, I understand where a lot of this is coming from. Trans women do get harassment campaigns started against them for small issues. It’s best not to resolve real problems with specific transfems in a public forum. So many have described the feeling of transmisogynistic hypervisibility as a panopticon and that very much applies in these discussions.

But trans women also aren’t made of glass. And they aren’t immune from making mistakes and causing harm. Making posts that contradict some trans women’s understandings of transmasc oppression is not transmisogyny. Pointing out that something they said or did was hurtful or transphobic is not transmisogyny. People act like this is how you treat trans women with respect and it’s very much not. This is not being “normal” about trans women. They are human beings who yes need some extra care and protection but are also capable of talking things out instead of collapsing into dust at the first sign of criticism. I know not all trans women like being treated this way in the slightest. I hope we’ll be able to find ways in the community to still uplift their voices and mitigate harm done to them without putting them on a high pedestal or shielding them from all criticism and intracommunity discussion that does not go their way.

[alexissara]

Thoughts On Leaving Texas Before I Leave Texas

I'm moving, I've lived in Texas since I was 5 years old, for almost my whole living memory I called Texas my home, a few different cities but I've been in Texas for a long time, 26 years. There is a lot of things I really liked about living in Texas but now it's time to go. Money wise it's gonna be rough but for my health, for my fiancé's health, for our future we have to leave. My Fiancé got a job up north and so we're going in December or November and leaving behind our long time home.

Texas has become an increasingly terrible place to live, before we even talk about like the direct political threat to my life we need to talk about the threat to everyone's life that is Climate Change and Texas's shit energy grid. Every single winter we have to worry if we'll lose energy for days maybe weeks and if people will literally die freezing due to the failing of Texas thanks to attempts at further privatization they had done. This is getting to the point that things are getting too hot too and the energy grid is under threat now like half the year where people are asking to conserve energy lest we all literally die if the power grid broke down. I hate having to worry that I might get my power shut down random for a few hours or worse case a few days. It is not good for my little neurodiverse brain to have something like that looming over my day as I get yet another warning about conserving energy or just see that the weather is getting to the

Now we can talk about the threats to mine and my loved ones life currently ongoing in Texas. The lack of abortion rights is an active health risk for my family. The constant threat of removing HRT from people is a threat not just to me but to my Fiancé who was considering starting T for a long time now. The removal of queer books and trans women from public spaces doubly effect me as a trans woman and writer removing spaces where I could potentially do public appearances and places I could share my work inside my own community. Not to mention it also just sucks that all the cool public resources, aka libraries could be stripped of queer books, many of which my Fiancé was an active part in getting into the system when they worked there. I pass really well, literally haven't been misgendered in years but a bathroom ban still raises threats to me. Generally the public environment while not as bad in this city always has to have me at least a little bit on guard for fear for my life for being trans but also for being in a queer relationship openly and publicly.

So ya, I feel like I have to go, I do want to go but I wanted to go at my own pace, like I wanted to take the time to wait until we got the right job in the right city, till we were sure we could be living somewhere we could put roots in but that's not what we're doing, we are leaving because we need to be somewhere safer and somewhere better even if it isn't our first choice.

I am excited to move, stressed about the money and about actually moving and I suffer from really bad separation anxiety and get attached to places so I know I will probably spend the week we move balling my eyes out even if I am otherwise emotionally okay but I am excited. The era isn't too far from some friends and since I moved to a new city in Texas I haven't really had any friends who weren't like my Fiancé's friend that I was hanging out with also. Being in a more queer community should be nice and I should be close to some nice spots living more directly in the city. I think I will love a lot of it but also that I will utterly hate the colder months because I like it warm and I hate it cold but to be fair Texas has got a ton colder and our homes aren't built for the cold so I don't actually imagine days in will feel much different.

I mostly feel really positive about everything but from now till I move I am gonna try and hustle and see if I can't get some more gigs or something to take the load of expense off our savings. If you enjoy my work let me know and let other people know you do and that is a great way to help me make more cash money. Thank you for raeding.

[the-casbah-way]

trans stuff below ignore this

i'm at such a weird and horrible part of transitioning that i've never seen anyone talk about before. i'm so far from what i used to be but i'm so far from what i want to be too. i passed for years and now i've deliberately chosen to stop passing and it feels really strange. my whole life is on hold until i am able to feel like myself. i don't do anything i don't go out i don't talk to anyone i exist completely on my own because i just cannot show up in the world the way i want to and there is nothing i can do about it. i literally can't speak because i can't stand the idea of someone hearing my voice as it is now. it makes me feel sick every time i talk because the person i am hearing does not sound like me even though it is me. that's not what i'm supposed to sound like. i get so tempted to go back to what i was before even though the thought is unbearable because at least then i wouldn't be this horrible weird in between thing that feels just as far away from me as the old me did. i miss the times where i would feel so good about my gender and my body and myself even though they're always so fleeting. i know one day i will have those moments again but for so long now i've just been drowning in dysphoria that i can't even describe and none of it is because i don't "look like a man" whatever that means. i did look like a man, and i didn't like it, so i chose to stop. and now i get misgendered all the time and people stare at me for ages trying to figure out what to call me and no one treats me normally and i feel sick every time i go outside. there is not a single thing about the way i look or feel in myself that is right or good and every time i try to fix it i just make it worse. it's like every single trans masc on earth looks good and cool and infinitely closer to what i want to be than i do and i would trade with literally any of them i don't care if they're medically transitioning or if other people think they pass i would rather look like literally anyone else than me because i don't have anything about me that i can work with in order to look and feel like myself. i'm thinking back to all the times i felt ok enough in myself to be able to express my sexuality or be myself and now i feel sick because i could never do that now. it would make me so angry and disgusted at myself and the idea of having sex makes me want to vomit up my insides and rip all my skin off because i can't believe i would ever let myself want that. and i can't believe i would ever let people see me in a sexual way. like even writing it makes me feel like i'm going to be sick i don't understand how i was capable of that even though the last time i felt it was just earlier this year. i don't know i just don't see the point in anything until i can get on t and the more i look into it the more it seems like it'll never happen and i don't know who to ask to help me because i can't talk to anyone. and even if i got on t who cares. i've been holding out for it for so so so long whilst watching everyone around me get on it even the people who came out long after me but who cares. it won't make me any less of a shitty person and it won't get rid of everything i hate about myself and it'll just make my life harder because of how cis people and my family are going to treat me and it just feels like it's an endless lifetime of horrible things that make me pray that i will one day be able to find it in myself to give up and leave

[julien5-malfunction]

14022023 It's FRIEND'S DAY!!!

(and not Valentine's day, here where I live, at least...)

[Content: Reaction to being misgendered, anger about the inability to change critical things and fear of anger.]

I had a therapy appointment today and we were talking about rock bands (bc idk that's just how it is nowdays, no more fake ass 'deep dives' and ripping open old wounds, 👍 I approve.) And the therapist was saying something like '...allright, girl.' I was like '...uhh, what was that?' (In a rather playful tone) She just said it again a few times while looking for something on the computer.

I'm not gonna be a huge karen about it but this is the 2nd time someone in position of authority refers to me as a 'girl' or a similar term. The other one was one of the (now former) check up visitors, who was giving me a car ride home. (She said that I was a badass-bitch for having the guts to go on the trip to the big city alone.) Altough she did catch that by her self and corrected it swiftly.

Not a reason to cry but it just makes me feel like people have to actively try to avoid using femine terms about me and I'm pretty sure they are lying if they say anything about me looking more like a boy than a girl.

And that's something I'm really, REALLY insecure about. I know I don't pass and never will and I'd rather get honest feedback about it than careful, sweet little lies, so I don't get my feelings hurt, like just say it. Just fucking say it, stop lying. I can't stand lying, be fucking honest with me even if it stings, ffs.

I'm just mildly pissed off that people are pretending. And I don't pass, like I just don't, I know I don't, I never will. Kill me.

On another note, but related; I hate the teenagers, cuz why does every single fucking teen girl have lower voice than I do? Why am I so fucking short in comparison to everybody my age, and even people years younger than me, and why are they all wo fucking skinny. Everybody seems to have a life and friends and be good at something, know what job they want, just in general have their fucking shit together.

And it's in no way their fault but it just makes me feel like complete shit about myself and I always have to argue about the same fucking thing in my head, that I'm not a totally lost cause yet, and I still got a chance to become functional and maybe a person I can comfortably live as, and MAYBE accomplish something that will make ME think 'yeah, that's a pretty cool thing to leave as a reminder after I die. It's just. I feel like I'm so fucking behind in a race where I don't know how to compete in.

And the part where 'something', that could fit the definition of hope and a possible salvation from the life long torture, that is living in the circumstance I was trapped in upon birth, is first promised, then denied and ripped away from me. And I'm literally told to give it up, well guess what, I have nothing else to believe in or live for.

So I keep suffering in belief of my 'salvation', even if I stand no chance.

I swear, if I go insane enough I'll go beyond reason to do absolutely fucking everything I can to force my way trough as much as possibe. Just because I refuse to suffer eternally, because someone else made me.

Like if I get mad I get tunnel vision and I get violent too like it's scary. I'm scared of what I might be capable of while blinded, but in a way I kinda wanna find out.

Like if I can hurt another, physically, or not for example.

I'm getting off topic again.

[stowaway-society]

I think I've found the single most positive work/school environment ever actually

So I started an apprenticeship four weeks ago, studying to become a specialist in gastronomics and hospitality because I want to work in that field, pubs and bars specifically, and in those four weeks I've gotten adopted by; one of our cooks, the loveliest person who now calls me her child, another cook who's now my big brother, the biggest trans ally I've ever met (as in within the first week he looked about ready to brawl with his teacher of two years because she misgendered me) is now my father and everyone else is so so so nice and lovely??? I was really scared to go into this field because I come from a gastronomics heavy family and was always warned about its harsh tone, but these people are so lovely?

I get greeted with hugs and shouts of "Mariiiius hiiiii :DD" every morning, one day I got the biggest big brother hug and a can of monster because I just. Looked so sad, people have voiced threats of violence to anyone who ever hurt me, I had my hair played with the other day??? Another apprentice, who asked wether I was trans or non-binary (which was really quite shocking considering I know for a fact he's not at all involved with anything LGBT and considering the German language doesnt even HAVE neutral pronouns) said he was sorry he couldn't refer to me properly when I explained that I was in fact non-binary and would refer neutral pronouns and that he's sad for me that we don't have any in our language?? We're also allowed smoke breaks when we get overwhelmed, we can clock in sensory time with our teacher and the dorms are just as great, one of the other apprentices that I adore lives in the same building and we literally text eachother for smokes in the middle of the night so neither of us has to smoke alone- Whenever I get introduced to anyone new its "Aaaand this is Marius, Marius is our boy, he's baby" and "if anyone hurts you you come running I WILL fight them <3" how did this happen??

This is the most positive and welcoming and supportive environment I've literally ever been in AND it's my dream apprenticeship and sometimes I still have a little cry about the fact that I GOT it- I've grown so much along with these people and the work part of it in these four weeks alone and I've never been this EXCITED for anything

Life is. Good????

[skullshoal]

So i worked at a craft store that started with m and ends with ichaels and my coworkers were great and I loved helping customers because i know how to do so many different types of art/crafts and i felt really useful for probably the first time at a job and my bosses liked me. But they started cutting hours like crazy like i was working 4-8 hours a week and it pays minimum wage and They cut all the hours for sales floor so i was a cashier and it was sucking all the life out of me because they made you answer the phones at the same time and i was so overwhelmed and over stimulated and frustrated and isolated bc the only other people working were busy and far away and it felt like all the joy had been sucked out of the job and also there is some high school level bs interpersonal drama and the store manager started at the same time as me basically and she just didn’t fix Any Of It. And i was constantly getting lectured to about making targets for the free rewards program sign ups like LITERALLY every single shift they asked me to sign a document about it and i got talked to with a manager despite my transactions with rewards accounts being at like 70+ percent. and then my fav manager left and my other fav manager stopped defending the other cashiers and started saying the same stuff the other shittier bosses said and i was like hmm I am miserable here now and i am dreading working and i am hating random strangers this is bad for me i should leave.

and then I interviewed at my “current” job and I left the interview literally having already decided that i wasn’t going to take the job because the interview wasn’t. Good. She didn’t ask me questions and she complained that no one wanted to work and I was going to have to work in a location that has no parking so sometimes i would have to carpool and also she kept interrupting the interview to talk to the employees and all of this was a deal breaker for me so i left and like 1 hour later she called offering me the job so i sat on it bc i hated my current job that much so i took it even though i thought it was a bad idea and then yesterday my first day happened and she told me she wasn’t going to train me bc she was bad at it and basically just set me to do the same task until someone came in at 1 to train me and i never told her i was trans and then i was panicking about it because i needed to tell her i was trans and i was scared because she is very abrasive and weird and then the person who came in at one asked me for my pronouns and i tried to politely decline because i Still hadn’t told the boss i was trans and they didn’t take no for an answer and kept pressing me so I outed myself to her. And then they didn’t really train me they just told me to refill the inventory and i spent the rest of my 8 hour shift in silence filling bags of product i filled 450 bags of product unsupervised. Also the product has allergens and they didn’t tell me if i needed to wash things or anything and so I just wiped the scoops with a dry paper towel occasionally and it was mind numbing and bad and the backroom was so small and cramped i knocked things off shelves like every time i went back and It was un-airconditioned and there wasn’t anywhere for employee’s to set their stuff so my belongings were literally on the floor on a stairwell and also i didn’t eat at all. And the boss kept asking if i was coming back. And I never signed any work paperwork. and my fav boss who left last job her wife is the assistant manager and probably got me this job and i feel terrible for just quitting because of her but i don’t wanna go back i Dont wanna go back. She didn’t train me and i worked for 7.5 hours and i came home and sobbed in the shower. I was misgendered all day and i don’t want to go back. It’s childish but i just want to quit. I don’t want to go back. it’s an hour drive away also. Also she told me in the interview that other people worked like 2-3 days a week and then she scheduled me for 5. I DONT wanna GO BACK.

[sevdoesnotexist]

I finally got moved into our new apartment with my partner! Just the two of us!

As a disabled person who often needs support, there were times when I asked myself if I would ever be able to have my own place and live independently... But here we are! Our own apartment for a couple of disabled queers.

It has everything we need, though the kitchen is so small 😭 but it's ground floor and the laundry room is right down the hall which is so nice on my joints!

And if we're being entirely honest, my anxiety has plummeted since moving out of my aunt's place. She misgendered me EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. For the past 7 months I lived with her.

(because of my partner's family were not following covid guidelines while we lived with them and when I confronted them about how I COULD DIE from this they essentially told me to get over it, so after they didn't receive me coming out as trans well, my partner was like I don't think you're safe here you should go live with your aunt until the second wave calms down)

My aunt was super ableist as well, unfortunately. When I was having a depressive episode and was crying almost non stop (because I had just come out as trans and everyone told me I needed therapy for being trans)

Anyways I told her I felt so behind in life and like a constant fuck up because between my physical and mental disabilities, as well as the fact my parents taught me literally NO coping skills or social skills, her response was "I think you blame other people and your disability too much for things you could easily change" and I just about fucking lost it I had to leave the room to avoid screaming at her

It's a relief to be away from a toxic environment like that and knowing I'll be going back to school next semester in the winter, finally!

I can't wait to get lots of tapestries and string lights for our apartment, but for now I have to call Shaw and figure out why out upstream isn't working and if I need to talk to the building manager about it instead

ALSO THIS PLACE HAS SO MANY SPIDERS, SO MANY

[stonertransdad]

Life Update since I hadn't been on here in forever

The pandemic was/is wild! Lockdowns started literally around the time we were going to the fertility specialist to get her pregnant. I lost my job to COVID in March shortly before we did the procedure, but we decided there's never really a good time to have a kid. Why not during a global pandemic when one of us in unemployed? (BTW, I don't recommend having a kid during a pandemic. Not being able to go to all of the appointments and having to sit in the parking lot was brutal.)

Let's talk about May friends...it was rough. (TW for mention of suicide btw. I'll post a gif where it's safe to start again if you wanna skip over it.)

So May 1st is the anniversary of my father's suicide. It had been 4 years. I found his body and since he wasn't married, I had to handle his affairs and arrange his funeral. May 1st, 2020 my wife and I had a Zoom game night with our friends and I got drunk because everyone was drinking (except my wife because she was pregnant). After our game night at like 2am, I had a psychotic break. I threatened to kill myself numerous times. My wife tried to talk me down, but eventually called the cops to take me. I thank her for that because looking back, that was the moment I knew something needed to change. I was convinced the cops were gonna kill me because I'm a trans dude in rural West Texas. I legit took the phone out of my wife's hand, hung up on 911, and yeeted her phone across the backyard and tried to hop the fence. Eventually the cops came and talked me down. They took me to the hospital an hour away in handcuffs (for their protection I did nothing wrong). They took me to the religious hospital that I was born in. So when they looked up my info by my name and date of birth from my driver's license (I only changed my middle name) literally all my paperwork and my bracelet had my deadname and wrong gender despite all of my legal stuff saying male with my new middle name. I mentioned it to them and they didn't care. They misgendered me the entire time I was there. I had hit my head hella hard on the bath tub when my wife was trying to snap me out of it, did the hospital even check me for concussion? Nope. I had punched so many things and my hand and wrist were swollen and discolored. Did they check out my hand and wrist? Nope. I was there for over 10 hours before I was able to convince them I was okay and that it was just the alcohol. Did I mention during that 10 hours I was literally out in the hall on a gurney with no mask and this was when COVID was running rampant in Texas (the first time)? I heard people die that night. I had nothing to distract me because they took away all of my personal items and clothes. My wife picked me up and we went home and I have been sober ever since. It's not the first psychotic break I've had with alcohol in my system. Alcohol just doesn't agree with me, but I'm finding new things to replace it with.

TW has been lifted...it's safe now.

A couple of weeks after that I began teletherapy because I had been on the same mood stabilizer and anti-depressant for almost a decade. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense that I felt like it hadn't been working for at least a year. This is a reminder to check in with your doctor if you feel like your meds aren't working. You may just need a different dose or a new med. There's no shame in that. I bounced around on various medications trying to find the right combo, some side effects scarier than others, but we got there. Before this, I had been diagnosed with ADHD, Major Depressive Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, and Generalized Anxiety Disorder. My therapist threw out my Borderline diagnosis and said it was CPTSD instead, which made sense.

Fast forward to December because my wife was pregnant, I was unemployed still, and we did absolutely fuck-all because the global panini was still raging.

Our son was born on December 3, 2020. He weighed 5lbs 9oz and scared the ever loving shit out of us. He wasn't breathing when he was born so they called NICU in ASAP. I'm freaking out because I can hear and see what's going on while my wife was asking if he was okay as they put her guts back in place to sew her up. 5 or so minutes pass and a nurse asks if I want her to take some pictures. I'm like is he okay, he still hasn't cried. She's like "oh yeah, he's chillin." This goon was being held by a nurse and was just looking around not crying or anything. Chillest baby ever (he still is btw). I held him next to my wife's head until it was time to go back to the room. Little dude did have to spend 4 nights in the NICU because he couldn't keep his sugars or temperature regulated, but he was healthy otherwise. He's now 4 months old and is starting to sit up on his own a little bit and he's OBSESSED with standing. He's still a little guy, but very healthy and growing like a weed. He saves my life daily.

So after being unemployed for over 9 months, I started a new job working in a call center. I absolutely hate talking on the phone. It gives me anxiety and throws me into panic attacks, but I had been putting out hundreds of job applications since I lost my last job and this was the first offer I got. I wasn't really in a position to turn it down since my unemployment had ran out 2 months prior. It was 2 months of training, then we'd be on our own. I got thru the training and thought I could handle it...until they started putting us on live calls with someone helping us if we got stuck. My mental health hit the lowest point it had in a few years and my wife was terrified she was going to lose me. She convinced me to quit on February 28th (not because I didn't want to, but because I'm a stubborn ass who felt guilty). My meds got tweaked a little bit more dosage wise during this mess.

Starting about mid-February, I was experiencing severe shakiness, tremors, and spasms. I've always been a shaky person and never really thought too much about it, but at some points I could barely feed myself, or get a drink, or hold my son. On March 7th, I tried to make an appointment with my doctor about the weird symptoms I was experiencing, but she was out of town and her next opening wasn't until the 31st. My body said that won't work and my wife rushed me to the ER on the 9th...I had begun having seizures that day. I had no previous history of seizures. Got to the ER and had a seizure literally as I was walking thru the door, so they rushed me straight back. They took some blood and that was literally it. No MRI. No CT. They pumped me full of Ativan and said it was just a panic attack and to go home and chill.

Spoiler Alert: It wasn't just anxiety. I was having 20+ seizures a day. On the 10th, my wife rushed me to a different hospital...the good hospital over an hour away. First we had to drop off our gremlin with my mom to make things a little easier. Yet again, I had a seizure as I walked in the door and was taken back immediately. I don't really remember much because they kept pumping me full of Ativan and morphine because I had been in excruciating pain from the number of seizures I'd had. I do remember them doing a CT pretty quickly after I got there. Then they weren't happy with the results of the CT, so they took me to get an MRI, which showed possible signs of Multiple Sclerosis (but I didn't find that out until AFTER the notes showed up in my patient portal after being home a few days, so I raised hell...more on that later.) They did a 24 hour EEG on me and it showed nothing abnormal. Also, EEG glue is a bitch on your hair and scalp. After looking at everything and given my previous mental health history, they diagnosed me with Psychogenic Non-Epileptic Seizures, or PNES. It is a subset of Functional Neurologic Disorder, or FND. I couldn't walk well anymore and had to use a walker when I was discharged. I was in the hospital for 3 days.

When I had my follow-up appointment on the 23rd, I asked why the possibility of MS was never mentioned to me since it was very clearly in the notes. The doctor didn't have an explanation. He called in a referral to neurology so I could get a 2nd MRI to confirm MS and marked it as high priority. He also didn't take my pain seriously. My pain levels had been at a 5 or higher every single minute since they took me off of the morphine in the hospital. He told me to keep taking prescription strength doses of ibuprofen and Tylenol, which I had been. I let him know I had been and it didn't even take the edge off the pain. He ignored me. Leading up to this appointment, I had also added urinary incontinence to my growing list of symptoms and was forced to wear diapers so I didn't have to do laundry all the time. The doctor also took me off my ADHD meds because they were lowering my seizure threshold. He also took me off of my sleeping meds and nightmare meds for the same reason I'm assuming.

I kept my appointment on the 31st with my primary doctor because she's been my doctor for 5 years now and I knew she'd take my pain seriously. She did. She immediately wrote me prescriptions for a muscle relaxer and Tylenol 4. She also told me that my referral had been rejected by neuro. She said my case wasn't a good one for what she called a "wallet biopsy" and the doctors in neurology could be real assholes. She immediately sent the referral to other locations to get an approval. I am still waiting on that despite it being marked as high priority. She wrote me a prescription for a wheelchair because we both agreed my wheelchair was not enough for particular days.

Yesterday my wheelchair was finally ready for pickup, so my wife drove me to go get it. I'm still unable to drive due to my seizures and my tremors and twitches as it's predominantly in my legs and arms. I am an ambulatory wheelchair user now. Some days I can go short distances without my walker, some days I can't go without my walker, some days I can't even get out of bed, and some days I will be using my wheelchair. Don't judge a book by its cover, not all disabilities are visible. I have managed to keep my daily seizure count down in single digits and have even had a few seizure free days. They are still incredibly taxing on my body. I feel like I can't ever replenish my spoons fast enough to keep up with anything in my life.

So all in all, life has been chaotic. We are moving from Texas to New Mexico in the next few weeks, which should be interesting considering I can't overdo it without throwing myself into seizures. We will be closer to my mother-in-law so she can help us with our son and I can start resting a bit more on the more difficult days. Being a stay-at-home dad with an invisible illness has been one of the most challenging things I've done in my life, but I wouldn't change it for the world.

Sorry this is so long. I just wanted to update my followers since it's been over a year since I posted before a few days ago.

[rants-and-anger]

Hey guys, can we just agree on one fact that everyone has the ability to change? I mean none of us are truly clean, we all did fuck ups in the past, we all probably did terrible things when we were younger due to not knowing what’s right or wrong. I mean come on, you can point fingers at someone for doing something bad in the past but there’s such a high chance of them changing and having different thoughts now as they grow older and experience life.

And let’s also get into mental disorders or developmental disorders some people have, such as ocd, autism, depression, adhd, etc

By definition, a mental disorder are conditions that affect your thinking, feeling, mood, and behavior. They may be occasional or long-lasting (chronic). They can affect your ability to relate to others and function each day.

Such mental disorders are OCD, this mental disorder causes repeated unwanted thoughts or sensations (obsessions) or the urge to do something over and over again (compulsions). Some people can have both obsessions and compulsions. OCD isn't about habits like biting your nails or thinking negative thoughts, it’s not your cutesy “UwU sorry I need to fix the picture frame because of my OCD”, no it’s something more than that.

A variant of the OCD mental disorder is P-OCD, POCD is an obsessive fear of being or becoming a pedophile, what to many is considered the ultimate loss of identity. They fear that they might be a pedophile due to their trauma and their unwanted intrusive thoughts. POCD may stem from many many different reasons, one of them being the fear that having been a victim of childhood sexual abuse condemns one to become an abuser, people with POCD Can’t Stop Talking About It… and Also Can’t Talk About It, they feel ashamed and guilt, especially when they can’t get the help they need due to either the environment being terrible such as horrible parents or not being able to afford an OCD-specialist.

Now developmental disorders, it means a severe (not all of them are severe), chronic disability of an individual who has a mental or physical impairment by the age of 22 which is likely to continue indefinitely and results in substantial functional limitations in three or more areas of major life activity.

Such developmental disorders such as Autism Spectrum Disorder. Now there are many variants that we can’t exactly generalize it but basically, it is a developmental disorder that affects communication and behavior. People with autism have trouble with communication. They have trouble understanding what other people think and feel. This makes it hard for them to express themselves, either with words or through gestures, facial expressions, and touch. Therefore, it takes longer for them to realize things that somethings are wrong and they can get confused. Im not saying that we should baby them and such, but Im saying is to give more patience and time.

Now most of these things, people can get help or assistance by getting therapy, being in a supportive environment and the feeling of importance to other people, but what if they can’t get have those privileges? What can you do? Well first you can try to understand their situation, you can try to help them, you can try to be supportive, you can try to at least leave them alone when they’re not feeling well. Just please, please, educate yourselves first before you speak. Nobody ever really knows how much anyone else is hurting. You could be standing next to somebody who is completely broken and you wouldn't even know it. That's why you should always try to be kind.

You guys think that condemning these behaviors by sending death threats, insults and doxxing them will help? No. No it does not. It just pushes them into a corner where they just accept that they are a terrible person and start to lash out even more, instead of just causing drama, how about we try to understand what the other person is going through? Like seriously, you can’t just call someone a literal devil if you only got it from one side of the story but not hear the other, that’s unfair and unjust. There is no fairness if you do something like that and it’s just frankly a waste of everyone’s time as it’s just gonna be hurling insults left and right till either

A. someone kills themselves due to how being dramatic the problem became

Or

B. The drama just stops because there is no literal point and continuing it anymore

We don’t know every single part of the story of a person, we don’t know every single thing about a person, and we do not know what the person has went through as a person. So just please hear me out, instead of starting useless drama, doxxing, death threats and assumptions, please just listen what the other person has to say.

Remember, thinking about doing something is different from actually doing it, thinking about it means it just formed in your mind suddenly while doing it is when you actually resolved yourself and actually follow through with it, prepared to face the consequences, there’s a difference.

Also misgendering someone despite the fact they’re “bad” or not still makes you an asshole like seriously, being hateful and harming someone is one thing but purposely misgendering their identity is just not cool man, at least say the right pronouns and respect their human decency. Even courts do these kinds of things.

[daxieoclock]

Today’s been fucking insane and I don’t even feel capable of like summarizing or articulating it it’s just been a busy mess of rescheduling and adjusting and really intense (good, but intense) conversations with my sister and therapist and I’m just like

Having a small breakdown about how just like. How BROKEN my parents have made me feel. (More graphic vent under cut)

How they have contributed directly to almost every single trauma in my life and how fucking awful our relationship is now and how shitty they treat my sister and how just like. How I have showed up constantly ALL MY LIFE to try and fix a relationship with MY FUCKING PARENTS that has been broken since day fucking one, and they have consistently not shown up, or made me feel like shit, or guilt tripped or fucking gaslit me for EXPRESSING MY BASIC NEEDS. I have a fucking eating disorder because of them. I got RAPED because they reinforced that I couldn’t trust them with my private life and left me feeling deficient and fucking unloved and unable to say no to people.

And I just I don’t know how to wake up in the morning in the tiny fucking room they assigned to me because someone had to get the small room and Im The Family Pariah so it’s always going to be me, and walk out into the kitchen where they immediately throw me curveballs and then struggle with an eating disorder they gave me by constantly controlling and criticizing my eating habits, and go into the bathroom and struggle with the dysmorphia and body image issues I got from their constant comments about their own weight and my body, and put on shoes that are literally five years old and full of holes because I have such bad financial anxiety about spending any money “I don’t absolutely have to” that is also their fucking fault, and then slog through the weekly triggers from the trauma my parents fucking contributed to causing, and spend all my free time in my room because being around my parents is overstimulating at best and at worst they’re having a screaming match with each other or my sister, and deal with a bunch of stuff on my own because they are fucking ABSENT emotionally and refuse to help me with anything I NEED that they don’t feel strongly about, and then be expected to like. Be grateful? Ask my mom about her day? Help my dad with dinner? Do nice things for them without being asked?

I. There is nothing else left for me to do with this relationship besides leave it. I have tried EVERYTHING and given EVERYTHING, I showed up in every way I can for TWENTY FUCKING YEARS with a few compromises to show for it. They don’t call me a retard anymore. They don’t misgender me anymore. They don’t refuse to pay for essential medication anymore. All of which I have had to fight tooth and nail for. And I’m grateful for those victories, even as I’m miserable I had to fucking fight my PARENTS to treat me with some fucking decency. But there’s. There’s too much. I can’t fight them on every broken part of our relationship because it is ALL broken in some way or another. I can’t think of a single aspect of my relationship with them that isn’t in some way woven through with resentment and frustration and loneliness and desperation. It’s all broken. And I am no longer deciding whether to forgive them for my agony, I am no longer deciding whether they are responsible for me almost killing myself. I am only deciding whether or not I can trust them to be in my life in ANY capacity. That’s all the leeway i have left in me.

[frobster]

Offer of a Lifetime: Chapter 2

Both chapters now up on ao3!

☆☆☆

Peter stayed where he was for a moment, shocked by what had just happened, before his phone buzzed again and brought him back to himself. He looked down at the number of missed messages and quickly read through them, MJ becoming increasingly frantic when Peter didn’t immediately answer.

> Peter: So, James was just in my apartment

> Peter: Also, he told me to call him Bucky

The buzzing started again before Peter could even lock his phone. He ignored it as he went around getting dressed, pulling on underwear and sweatpants before checking again.

> MJ: PETER WHAT THE FUCK

> Ned: BRO ARE YOU OKAY???

> Peter: I’m fine. He left. Gave me a week to think about his offer. Also said he would leave me alone completely if I turned him down

> MJ: And u believed him???????????

> Peter: He didn’t give me a reason not to. There weren't any threats, and he did wait wait a whole day before contacting me

> Ned: Sugar daddy already getting to you smh

> Peter: Come on, you know it would be amazing to have a sugar daddy

> MJ: Ya but this one could put u in a lot of danger

Peter bit his lip as he thought. MJ was right. While it was his dream to be a kept boy and never have to worry about anything, he wasn’t sure if it was worth the dangers associated with Bucky. He would definitely need the whole week to think.

> MJ: We’re gonna talk more tonight. I’ll see u at 7:45

> Peter: Sounds good 

Bucky was at the forefront of Peter’s mind for the rest of the day. He didn’t really have anything to do until the evening, so he lounged around much like the previous day and tried to find more on the internet about Bucky. 

“Where did that name even come from?” Peter muttered to himself as he clicked on yet another tabloid article. The gossip papers had a lot to speculate about him since they loved to lie about crime and drama. He mostly skimmed the articles since they all seemed to be sensationalized and mostly rumors. 

One thing that stood out to Peter was the consistent inclusion of a broad blonde man almost always on Bucky’s right. The few pictures that weren’t blurry or grainy made the man seem relatively attractive, and Peter had to wonder if he was a past fling or just a confidante. Bucky obviously liked men, given his interest in Peter, but that still didn’t confirm anything.

The day oozed by in a cloud of laziness - naps, articles, snacks. Peter didn’t leave the couch except to get a snack or use the bathroom. By the time 6pm rolled around, Peter finally got up to start getting ready. He never took too long, but he didn’t want to rush either. The weather was still decent, so he decided on a pair of shorts that would help show off his legs and a mesh tank top that wouldn’t really cover anything. Beneath the shorts, he had red panties. Even if it led to him getting misgendered more often, the panties did help him get more money out of clients. 

Peter ran his hands through his hair to make it fluffy and messy, swiped some gloss over his lips before tucking the tube into his bag, then looked at his measly pile of shoes. There weren’t many to choose from and most of them were bought purely for style rather than function. He ended up going back to his room to grab a pair of knee-high socks before sliding on a pair of black high-top sneakers. People still liked scene twinks, right? The socks would help keep his legs warm too once the sun went down and the air got cooler.

Picking his outfit didn’t take very long, so Peter was left with almost an hour until he had to leave. Then he remembered that Ned and MJ went grocery shopping for him, so he took a tour of his own kitchen to see what they got for him. Most of it was canned goods so it wouldn’t go to waste if he didn’t eat it quickly, but there were some fresher foods too like prepackaged salads and frozen chicken. 

Settling on the chicken and a salad, Peter hauled out the bag of chicken tenders to check the required oven temperature. He got the oven set and preheating before wandering back to his couch and flopping over the back of it. Upon checking his phone, he finally saw the few messages from Bucky that he missed while showering.

> I’m coming to visit soon. Try to look presentable.

Sent almost as soon as Peter stepped into the shower. He grimaced at the bad timing and scrolled down to read the rest, sent after Bucky had left.

> Obviously you did not see my message beforehand, as I assume a towel around your waist and a bare chest is not what you would typically consider “presentable”.

> You have until next Wednesday to make your decision. If you do not give me an answer before then, I will assume you’re uninterested and leave you alone, like I promised.

Peter sighed and reread the messages a few times. Then he saved Bucky’s contact number before taking another screenshot to send to his friends.

> Peter: See? I told you he would leave me alone if I turned him down

> MJ: I guess he may not be such a terrible person…

> Ned: He literally runs the New York mafia

> MJ: Yeah, but he knows how to treat a boy right

> Peter: I’m feeling heart emojis. Should I change his name in my phone to Daddy?

> Ned: NO!!!!!!!

> MJ: skjghalfaldfk YES

> Ned: Do NOT encourage him!!

Peter laughed to himself and quickly changed Bucky’s contact name to ‘Daddy’ followed by pink and purple heart emojis. Then he took another screenshot of the saved contact and sent it to the chat. 

> MJ: I expect updates every time he texts you. We have to decide if he’s good enough for our baby

> Ned: I will not approve of Peter being the kept boy of the HEAD OF THE NEW YORK MAFIA

> Peter: Aw dad, you’re no fun

> Ned: Don’t make me ground you

> MJ: Not allowed, Peter and I have work tonight

> MJ: Maybe daddy will bring us some coffee

> Peter: Hey! Only I am allowed to call him daddy

> MJ: Aw, possessive already? ;)

> Peter: ...maybe

> Ned: I’m doomed. We’re all doomed

Their casual, friendly conversation continued for a while until Ned had to put his phone away for class. Peter and MJ switched to single texting as they talked about their plans for that night. She had got them a new corner a few blocks away from where Bucky had picked Peter up, but they both knew that Bucky could find them again if he really wanted to. 

The oven soon beeped so Peter got up to put a couple chicken tenders on a pan and into the oven. He set a timer on his phone then looked around his apartment as he tried to figure out what to do to pass the time.

But rather than finding something to do, Peter just realized how shitty his apartment really was. The walls were thin and dirty, there was a crack spiderwebbing up the wall in a corner, the floors were stained and worn out from countless tenants. He sighed and slumped against the kitchen counter, a cheap laminated wood that creaked even under his slight weight. There were multiple different bug problems through the building - cockroaches, ants, spiders, wasps. He had a roach problem in his own apartment, leading to all food in the cabinets needing to be canned so they couldn't chew into it. 

It was exhausting to live in poverty. Peter hated his apartment but it was all he could really afford. The life insurance policy from his aunt was used to pay off his surgery bills and the rest was funneled to any other medical costs that came up, including his hormone prescription. While he did have some money in savings, it would not be enough to allow him to live somewhere better. He was losing money faster than he made it back.

Bucky’s offer was slowly becoming more and more attractive.

When the timer went off on his phone, Peter swiped it away before carefully taking out the tray of chicken. He set it on the stove to let it cool while he took out the prepared salad bag and set to mixing everything together. Then, since he didn’t feel like using multiple dishes, he cut up the chicken on the baking pan and scraped the pieces into the salad bowl.

“Yeah, I can provide for myself,” Peter said to himself before taking a bite. 

The salad was filling and Peter actually felt like he had a decent amount of energy. He took the time to wash all the dishes he used rather than trying to jam them into the dishwasher, brushed his teeth, reapplied his lip gloss, then checked the time. 

MJ had sent a few more messages with details of their shift that night, and Ned announced the end of his class and the offer of searching Bucky more. Peter bit his lip as he considered it. If he was going to really give Bucky’s offer some serious consideration, he felt he needed to know the man better. Or he could just text Bucky.

Before he could chicken out, Peter sent a quick text to Bucky and pocketed his phone so he could finalize his outfit and wait for MJ.

> Peter: If you want me to live with you, I’m gonna need to know more about you.

There wasn’t any reply before MJ arrived. Peter sighed as he looked at his lack of notifications before he tucked his phone away, grabbed his bag, and headed out to meet MJ.

There was some tension in the car as a lackey drove Peter and MJ to their new corner. The random guy was humming along to music on the radio while the other two held hands in the back of the car. He didn’t say anything as he stopped at a new corner and unlocked the door, a clear signal for them to get out.

Peter stepped out with his mini backpack shouldered and fixed his shorts once he was standing. MJ followed him out and fixed her skirt too, her own bag slung across her chest and accenting her cleavage. Another reason why MJ was slightly better off than Peter was her assets. People just tended to want her more often than him. He wasn’t upset about that, he knew his friend was gorgeous and she deserved the attention and money. He just couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of her slightly better financial state.

“Did Bucky say anything else?” MJ asked as the car drove off. 

“Nope. I don’t really know what he would say,” Peter replied, hyper-aware of his phone in his pocket. He couldn’t remember if it had buzzed while they were in the car since his mind was wandering. Already, just one day after meeting the man, Peter couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky.

8pm wasn’t very late, the bars were just starting to fill up. Peter and MJ had time to talk before people would start showing interest in them. The sunset was nice to watch and offered a serene backdrop to the chaos of their lives, purples and reds blending together like the mundane and unusual of the past few days.

“I would think that he would try to sweeten the deal somehow, y’know? You’ve clearly been hesitant about accepting his offer, so wouldn’t he want to tempt you?” MJ looked at her nails and flicked a speck of invisible dust off the shiny finish, then winked at someone who was looking at her as they stepped into the nearby bar.

“I dunno how much sweeter the deal could get. He offered to pay for everything for the rest of my life, or leave me alone without any trouble. It’s a win-win situation.” Even to his own ears, Peter knew it sounded lame. He was so tempted to accept Bucky’s offer, and MJ could clearly hear that in his voice.

“You deserve to know more about him at least. Even Ned had a hard time finding anything on this guy. And now that we know he’s got some dangerous connections, it would be in your best interest to find out everything you can before making a decision, especially since you’re tempted to agree.” Peter MJ would’ve been an excellent counselor. Maybe she still could be. If they ever found themselves in a position to start saving up money, she could put it towards college classes.

“Yeah, I know. I’m just not-” Peter cut off when he felt his phone vibrate against his ass. He reached into his back pocket to pull it out and blinked as he read the message.

> Bucky: We could discuss that over dinner, if you’d like. I know you’re working, but I could talk to your boss and have him pardon you for the night.

Before Peter could reply to the text or finish what he was saying, MJ snatched his phone away to read the message.

“Hey! Give that back!” Peter squawked as he tried to grab his phone back.

But MJ was taller than him even without the heels she was wearing, so she just held the phone up and angled it down so she could read the screen. She laughed aloud when she read the message and finally lowered her hand again so Peter could have his phone back. He huffed as he stuffed it into his pocket again without bothering to answer.

“It’s cute that he’s already offering to cover your shifts for you. Maybe he’ll even give you some cash to make up for missing a whole night,” MJ teased with a grin. Peter felt too flustered to really register that she seemed to be encouraging him to leave with Bucky.

“There is nothing cute about this situation,” Peter huffed, cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment. He wasn’t really sure what he was embarrassed about. Maybe he didn’t realize how tempted he was to accept Bucky’s offer until MJ gave him that little nudge.

“Well, you’re pretty cute. It’s cute how often you blush when we talk about him.” MJ’s tone was more genuine that time, and Peter felt a little surprised.

“Did Ned tell you something else about this guy? Why do you seem so supportive of him now?” There was another buzz in Peter’s pocket but he ignored it, wanting to hear MJ’s answer first.

“You deserve a good life, Peter.” She looked at him, entirely serious, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve been through so much and you’re only nineteen. I want you to be happy, to have opportunities that we could never find in this line of work.”

“MJ…” 

Before Peter could say more, his phone started buzzing like he had a call. He sighed and reached into his pocket, making a brief note that it was Bucky calling before he answered.

“Hello?”

“You didn’t answer my text, Peter. So I called your boss anyway. I’m coming to pick you up. Would MJ like to join us for dinner?”

Peter just squeaked, his jaw dropped open as he tried to think of what to say. MJ rolled her eyes and snatched the phone away again so she could talk for him.

“Hi, Bucky. Peter would love to go to dinner with you, but he seems to have forgotten how to speak.” She snickered at whatever Bucky said, Peter watching with wide eyes as she spoke with him so casually. “Aw, thank you! I would love to join you for dinner. If you intend to steal my boy away, I have to see if you’re worth his time.”

“MJ!” Peter finally came back to his senses and made a grab for his phone, but she held him back just like before.

“Yeah, that was him. He’s just so excited to see you again. We’ll be waiting for you!” MJ hung up the phone before handing it back to Peter with a grin. “He will be here in about fifteen minutes so zip up your hoodie and try to not look like such a whore.”

Peter swatted at MJ’s arm, making her cackle loudly as she pulled a balled-up shawl out of her bag to wrap around her shoulders and cover up her chest. She tended to wear shirts that showed off her cleavage but now that she wasn’t actively trying to attract customers, she wanted to look more modest. Peter had a sleeveless hoodie that he zipped over his mesh tank top, though he started to feel overheated after just a few minutes.

The hoodie got unzipped again as Peter rocked restlessly in place, anxious and eager to see Bucky again. MJ was updating Ned since Peter was too scared to look at his phone, snickering to herself every now and then.

Soon enough, a sleek black car pulled up. The windows were so heavily tinted that they looked black, but neither of them had to guess at who was inside. MJ tucked her phone away and Peter stepped closer to her, seeking out her familiar comfort as his nerves spiked.

The back window rolled down and a familiar face was revealed. Bucky looked at them both before nodding and pushing the door open.

“Come on, we got reservations in twenty minutes,” he said as he shifted to a seat on the other side of the car.

MJ stepped in first then tugged Peter in with her. She sat across from Bucky and not-so-subtly nudged Peter over to sit next to him. The seats were smooth and cool, and Peter was thankful for the air conditioning that let him zip up his hoodie again to hide his chest. Bucky had already seen him shirtless, but he felt awkward about it now.

The car pulled away from the curb as soon as the door was closed. Peter didn’t have a chance to buckle in so he swayed and ended up leaning into Bucky for a moment. He blushed and scooted away so he could clip his seat belt, then sat quietly and picked at the hem of his socks. 

“So,” MJ started casually. “You’re who Peter has a crush on.”

“I do not!” Peter insisted, head snapping up so he could glare at MJ. She just grinned at him as Bucky made an amused sound.

“A crush, huh? That’s cute.” Bucky tucked his phone away and looked over to Peter with a smirk. “Have you given my offer any more thought?”

“It’s been like, six hours,” Peter pointed out, feeling a little more confident with MJ there to back him up.

“Plenty of time to think.” Bucky was watching Peter, eyes glued to him as he waited for a proper answer.

“I mean…” Peter sighed and slumped back against his seat. He did want to say yes, to agree and let Bucky carry him off into the sunset like some perfect romantic dream. It just didn’t feel real.

“We need some proof that you’re the real deal,” MJ finally said.

Bucky’s gaze flicked over to her as he raised an eyebrow. He clearly wasn’t someone who was used to being challenged like that, and for a moment, Peter feared for MJ. But then Bucky laughed and Peter’s heart skipped a beat at the sound. 

“Conveniently enough, that is why I invited you along tonight. It’s good to know Peter has a friend looking out for him.”

“Two friends,” MJ corrected. “Ned has been diligently mining through the internet for information about you. He is the only reason why I agreed to dinner.”

Peter huffed as a faint blush dusted his cheeks. MJ was acting like her and Ned were his parents, and he was feeling a little embarrassed about that. Sure, he was the youngest out of the three of them, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t handle himself. 

“Two friends,” Bucky amended. Then his gaze turned back to Peter and he reached over to gently rub the boy’s back. “You can relax, Peter. I promise my intentions with you are honorable.”

“And what exactly are your intentions?” Peter looked up again, finally meeting Bucky’s eyes.

There was a moment of hesitation and even MJ could feel the electricity hanging between Bucky and Peter.

“I want to take care of you the way you deserve. To spoil you, pamper you, give you anything you could ever want or need.” Bucky sounded honest and there was no nervous tic that would clue Peter in to a lie. But he still couldn’t believe it. 

“Why?”

Another pause. Bucky looked torn between brushing it off and turning to a new subject, coming up with some flowery words that didn’t really answer the question, or actually telling the truth. He took a deep breath to steel his nerves, and decided on the last.

“You are beautiful. Handsome, gorgeous. Whatever term you’re most comfortable with. You are like a work of art, and I don’t want to see you waste away in the streets. You deserve so much more and what am I gonna do with all this money anyway? Hell, you could turn me down here and now and I would still send you money every week. I just want you to be happy.”

Peter blinked. He hadn’t expected such an emotional answer, but he felt touched by it. A quick glance over to MJ showed that she felt affected by it too, her eyes wide in surprise. For all the research the three of them had done, they never would’ve thought Bucky was the sentimental sort of guy.

“Oh.” Peter’s voice was faint as he tried to process all that Bucky said.

Bucky swore under his breath and leaned back in his seat. He had moved closer to Peter as he spoke, but now he felt he should give the younger man some space. But to everyone’s surprise, Peter reached out and set a hand on Bucky’s knee before managing a smile.

“I appreciate that, Bucky. I really do. Thank you.”

There was a beat of silence before Bucky cleared his throat and nodded. He gave Peter a tight smile, seeming a little less confident than when they first got in the car. Then the car stopped before anyone could say anything else and Bucky looked away to the window beside him.

“Ah, looks like we’re here. Don’t worry, it isn’t anywhere too fancy. I figured you two wouldn’t really be dressed for that.”

Bucky’s confidence seemed to slowly come back as he smirked and got out of the car. Then he held out a hand for MJ, and reached out again for Peter once she was standing. But unlike with MJ, Bucky didn’t let go of Peter’s hand. And Peter didn’t really mind. 

☆☆☆

[miraculoussage]

Breaking Out part 2

Rating: General

Characters: Adrien Agreste/Chat Noir main character; lots of other characters making an appearance, lots of Plagg, Marinette/Ladybug, and Gabriel

Relationships: (Minor) Lovesquare

Other tags: Trans boy Adrien, mostly closeted trans Adrien, transphobia (no transphobic violence), mentions of a dead name but no actual use of the dead name, misgendering, mentions of Dysphoria; supportive friends, Gabriel Agreste is a soggy tissue, minor redesigns of LB and CN costumes, major redesigns of civilian Adrien bc closet trans. Use of the word queer as an identifier and not a slur. TW for police but just barely.

Part 1

♪~ ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ

He ended up on Marinette’s balcony. It wasn’t uncommon for him to stop in on nights where he couldn’t come over as Adrien, but he tried to avoid visiting every single time Adrien couldn’t visit. Even with the glamour of the Miraculous, it was a suspicious situation. He made himself comfortable on a lounge chair, laying with his arms behind his head, waiting for Marinette to come up to the roof. Somehow she always knew when he was there, even if he’d been silent or he knew she wasn’t in her room when he got there. She was quick today, no snacks or drinks, no deck of cards, no sketchbook. She had her phone clutched in her hand, the screen open to a copy of Adrien’s post, and she was obviously stressed out about it.

“What’s up, princess?” He kept his tone light, but he felt guilty about making her worry like this, even if it wasn’t entirely his fault.

“My friend, uh, well.” In lieu of explaining Adrien’s gender situation, she handed her phone to Chat Noir, and he made a show of looking surprised. “He’s coming to live here. He ran away from home today after his father tried to basically imprison him for coming out. I know he didn’t want to come straight here because his father would check here first, and didn’t want to get us involved in this part. So I know he’s out of the mansion, and he says he’s safe and they won’t find him, but I’m still worried.”

“I understand that feeling. Even when there’s no Akuma and Ladybug isn’t transformed, I worry still. No one knows who she is, even me, but it’s a constant anxiety I think we both deal with. Her and I. The life of a secret superhero, right?” He grinned at Marinette. She smiled back briefly, but she sighed deeply. “Do you want me to go look for him, or do you want me to stick around with you for a bit?”

Marinette took the charm Adrien made for her out of her pocket and fiddled with the beads while she thought. “I think... I want you to stay here, for a while at least. Adrien said he was safe and I have to trust him on that, but I could use a distraction.”

“Is that all I am to you? A distraction?” he teased, happy to see her roll her eyes at his antics.

“Oh, yes, absolutely kitty. Nothing but a distraction. Wait here, I’ll go grab some actual distractions. And food?”

“Absolutely food. Bakery left overs and some fruit or veggies?” he suggested.

“Sure thing. Be right back, don’t break anything.”

He moved from the lounge chair to the small table, letting himself take some deep breaths and appreciate the warm late-spring air. Marinette was right, he didn’t want to get them pulled into the immediate situation, especially if his father decided to contact the police. He was sixteen and left of his own volition, but his father was... persuasive when he threw his name and money around. Adrien was safe, of course. Technically, Adrien didn’t exist at the moment, so no one would be able to find him anyways. Talking to Marinette was nice, but he would also love to have Plagg around right now.

Just as Marinette was coming back up through the trap door, tires screeched on the street below and a car door slammed. Great.

“Where is she??” Nathalie’s voice rang out from below, usual calm replaced with anger. Marinette rushed to the railing to look down to the street with Chat Noir at her side.

“Ugh, he didn’t even have the guts to show up himself.” It was clear that Marinette was not impressed with Gabriel; since meeting Adrien, her admiration for his work was completely overshadowed by his treatment of Adrien and literally every other human being. If you knew where to look, you could find testimonies from Gabriel’s employees, though a lot of them were buried by lawsuits and bribes. “I’ll go help my parents deal with this. Sorry, Chat...”

“I’ll meet you down there,” he said with a smile and a wink. “Superheroes protect people against villains, after all.” The small laugh he got out of her lit his heart up. As long as he could help it, Marinette would never face trouble alone.

Vaulting over the railing, Chat landed between Nathalie and the front door of the bakery. “I’m pretty sure the bakery is closed by now, you’ll have to wait for tomorrow to get a dacquoise!” He kept up a signature Chat Noir grin and casual pose leaning against the bakery door.

Nathalie, to her credit, was thrown off by one of Paris’s superheroes, anger morphing into shock for a moment before she was back on her mission. “These people are hiding a runaway minor!”

“Runaway? Hey, you’re Adrien Agreste’s babysitter, right?” He squinted as if trying to place her face.

“Babysi- Adrien?? That is not her name!” Nathalie’s fists were clenching. If Adrien didn’t know better, he would think she was about to punch him. If he had any less self control and moral obligations, he would probably punch her. “She is to come home at once and these people are enabling this tantrum!”

“The only tantrum I see is yours, madam. I think it would be best if you leave.” His smile fell, and he watched as a police car pulled up to the curb, and Roger stepped out.

“What seems to be the problem, madam?”

Nathalie rehashed everything to the officer. During her shouting, all three of the Dupain-Chengs came around the side of the building, only somewhat confused. Mostly, they looked frustrated. “Adrien isn’t here,” Marinette interrupted Nathalie’s ranting.

Before Nathalie could attack a teenager, Roger held up his hands to placate each group. “Okay, okay. Listen. I can search the building if you consent, Sabine, but otherwise there’s nothing I can do unless there’s a warrant.”

“Of course, we aren’t hiding anyone or anything. But Madmoiselle Sancouer is not invited inside, I’m sure you understand. Chat Noir, would you be a dear?” Sabine smiled at him, and he bowed dramatically in turn.

“My pleasure, Madame Cheng.” He would do anything for Sabine, even if she asked him to climb the Louvre and dance the Cotton-Eyed Joe on the top. This was no problem.

Nathalie paced on the sidewalk, scowl everpresent. The car was empty, he guessed his bodyguard was out looking elsewhere. It didn’t take long for Roger to sweep the building; Adrien obviously wasn’t there. He said as much to Nathalie. Before she could argue, Chat gestured towards her car. “Adrien isn’t here, like they said. Au revoir madmoiselle.”

When Nathalie gave in and drove away, Roger excused himself as well. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that.” Even as Chat, he had a friendly relationship with them. It wasn’t exactly odd that he’d helped them out with a personal situation. “What was that all about anyways, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Well, Adrien Agreste, you must have seen his post,” Tom started, and Chat smiled at Marinette, “his father is not a good man. Adrien is coming to live with us. He isn’t here right now because he has some things to do before it’s official.” Tom rubbed the back of his neck. “We’re all worried about him, though. He lost access to his phone so we have no way to contact him, we just want to know that he’s alright.”

“I could try to find him,” he glanced at Marinette again, and she gave him a slight nod. “I’ll let him know what happened.”

“Can you bring this to him?” Sabine held out her phone. “We’d be more comfortable knowing we can reach him.”

“Sure thing. I’ll stop by some day soon to grab some snacks! Until then, stay safe, everyone.”

♪~ ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ

By the time the sun was far beyond the horizon, Adrien had gotten a room at Le Grand Paris as Chat Noir, texted Tom to reassure and thank them, and laughed with Plagg about how funny it was that he was asked to check on himself.

“Adrien. I want. Cheese.”

“And I want to be at home watching a movie and eating pastries, but we can’t always get what we want, can we?” Despite his words, he was smiling and already dialing room service. “Two wheels of Camembert, extra runny, the dinner special, and a pair of scissors, please! You can leave it outside the door. Yes, thank you.”

“Only two?! You’ve been running around Paris as Chat Noir for hours, I’m hungry!” Plagg draped himself dramatically over the top of the giant TV. “How will I ever survive on such little food??”

Adrien laughed despite himself. When Plagg grinned over at him, he realized he’d fallen prey to Plagg’s plot to distract him. “You’ll get more for breakfast, you bottomless pit. Be grateful I even ordered you two, I almost decided you could just have what’s left in my bag!”

“Okay, okay, two is fine! Don’t take away my precious Camembert, I beg you! We can’t celebrate without food!” Well, Plagg’s plot was working, because Adrien hadn’t felt better in weeks.

“Celebrate? Already? Nothing is confirmed yet.”

“Maybe not, but come on, kid! Three years ago this could only be a dream, and you’re making it happen!” Plagg spun around in the air, happier than Adrien had ever seen him without Camembert. “You figured out a plan to get yourself safe and happy and you had the courage and strength to go through with it! Even in the face of all the things that could go wrong. You still took a chance! Remember your first birthday as Chat Noir?”

“Yeah, duh, the Bubbler! How could I forget?” Adrien smiled. He loved when Plagg got like this, the rare times he shared his emotions.

“It was mostly rhetorical,” Plagg joked. “I wanted you to have a chance to have fun and freedom even if it meant letting an Akuma run around for a bit. He was barely dangerous, really, I knew you and the ‘bug could take him down easy-cheesy! And all the times I complained about you going to school? You had a chance to do whatever you wanted! You picked school every time and yeah, yeah, I get it now; your friends are pretty cool for humans! When I did all that I was trying to lead you to doing something like this, something wild and freeing! Maybe not ‘run away and come out on social media’ wild, but you got the freeing part right.”

“I think you also wanted me to stay home from school because you’re lazy.”

“Touché.”

There was a knock at the door, and two minutes later, Adrien rolled the tray in. Plagg didn’t even wait for him to take the cover off the cheese platter before diving in; Adrien actually took his time with his food. It was difficult, though. He kept glancing towards the scissors, excited and nervous. “Plagg, save some for later.” Lifting the cover of the platter, he saw Plagg had already gone through the whole first wheel. “I need your help with something.”

“Yeah, yeah, c’mon,” Plagg grabbed the scissors before Adrien even told him what he wanted to do, and flew off towards the bathroom. “I can’t promise it’ll be the cleanest cut with my guidance but I can at least help you get it sort of even!”

Adrien grinned and jumped over the bed, rushing in after Plagg. He stared at himself in the mirror, took the scissors from his kwamii, and let out a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”

♪~ ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ

Adrien slept soundly, free of his metaphorical and almost literal shackles. Or he would have, if not for the midnight Akuma. Plagg complained the whole three seconds between the alert and Adrien transforming, and all of the time Adrien was awake after defeating the Akuma, until he got his next two wheels of Camembert in the morning.

The Akuma wasn’t particularly difficult to beat, but it took a while. The Tracker was slippery, just like her prey. It was emotionally draining too, hearing his deadname and getting misgendered for hours by Nathalie. He couldn’t say he was surprised about her being akumatized, and Ladybug didn’t seem surprised either.

“Of course she’s looking for Adrien.” Her sigh was heavy. Midnight akumas really were the worst.

“How do you know about that?” he asked. If she asked how he knew he could always tell her he heard it from Marinette. It wasn’t a lie, after all, and Ladybug knew he liked to visit the Dupain-Chengs- it wasn’t much of a secret.

“Oh, uh, I saw his post, and I know how, er, overprotective his father is of him.”

The Tracker had already gotten away twice, following a trail that led nowhere. Chat Noir had to pretend he was worried that she would find Adrien, and keeping up that act on top of everything was really draining. He couldn’t help the heavy sighs that kept working their way out of his lungs.

“Chaton, are you doing okay?” Ladybug stopped him on a roof with a gentle hand on his wrist. It caught him off guard, and she steadied him when he stumbled.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just... well, this whole situation.” She looked around conspiratorially, but no one was around on a rooftop at midnight. “If I understand right, Adrien ran away because his father is transphobic...”

“.... Oh! Yeah, I’m fine! I’m relieved, actually. Proud! I’m glad he’s going to be out of that situation soon. My friend Marinette and her parents are helping him. It’s a situation I wouldn’t mind being in myself! Aside from the ‘being tracked down by an Akuma’ thing. Speaking of which, let’s go! We’ll have to search for the Tracker, we let her get pretty far ahead.”

He smiled when she turned her back. Her concern for him warmed his heart. He knew it wasn’t possible- their identities had to remain secret and they had to stay professional as superheroes- but he still loved her to bits.

It was only three hours later when he finally got back to the comfort of the hotel bed that he let himself relax and think. The day had been harrowing, but he had a lot of support, people who loved him. People that he loved back. Plagg, Ladybug, Tom and Sabine. Marinette. With no one around to witness it, Adrien covered his face with his hands and let out a frankly embarrassing squeal. He was going to be living WITH MARINETTE! As housemates, but still. All the additional time he could spend with her, shared breakfasts, doing chores together, arguing over which live-action Spider-man was best. (Marinette insisted it was Tom Holland, but Adrien knew the real answer was Andrew Garfield.) Maybe, just maybe, if Marinette got to be around him more often, she could... feel the same way about him as he felt about her.

♪~ ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ

Stick around for part 3! That’s right I’m not done yet

[wrightiverse]

Chrysanthemums

When he was drunk and maudlin, Bill Close had a phrase he used to explain why he’d never become a star: timing is everything. If he hadn’t done a certain audition right before lunch, when people were hungry and distracted. If he’d been playing the night the agent was in the bar, instead of at home babysitting. If he’d been five minutes earlier here, two hours later there, a few seconds in either direction, he’d have the life he was actually supposed to have. Bad timing. Good timing. Didn’t quite pull off the timing. Timing is everything. Glenn buys all that as a kid, but he eventually realizes that Bill only had it half right. It’s not just the bad stuff that comes down to being in the right place at the right moment. Sometimes, everything aligns to give you much more than you deserve. (Posted this on AO3 originally but we’re all in sad Close boys hours this week anyway so I may as well bring it over here. Full version below cut has references to a car accident, pregnancy, and a certain canonical death that I’m sure you can guess. It was also written before we realized that Wrightiverse Nick was trans but fuck it, why go back and have Glenn and Morgan misgender baby Nick when I don’t have to. Nick is much younger when Morgan passes in this than in the show’s canon now but canon is optional, free your mind.) 

When he was drunk and maudlin, Bill Close had a phrase he used to explain why he’d never become a star: timing is everything. If he hadn’t done a certain audition right before lunch, when people were hungry and distracted. If he’d been playing the night the agent was in the bar, instead of at home babysitting. If he’d been five minutes earlier here, two hours later there, a few seconds in either direction, he’d have the life he was actually supposed to have. Bad timing. Good timing. Didn’t quite pull off the timing. Timing is everything. Glenn buys all that as a kid, but he eventually realizes that Bill only had it half right. It’s not just the bad stuff that comes down to being in the right place at the right moment. Sometimes, everything aligns to give you much more than you deserve. *** It’s not exactly a fairytale love story. They literally meet in a dumpster.

It’s been most of a year since he told his parents to go shove their advice and their money up their respective asses, three months since the semester ended and he lost access to the dorm room and meal plan, a week since he ran out of cash, and at least 24 hours since he ate anything. Couch-surfing is keeping a roof over his head, and his friends are generous with food and booze and weed when they have any to spare, but that only goes so far. One year of college courses under his belt, no idea how to make a resume, no work history even if he did, no permanent address. The job offers aren’t exactly flooding in.

But to hell with it, Glenn Close isn’t gonna just lay down and die. He’s already cased a bakery a few blocks away and he knows they usually throw out the stuff too stale to sell around 11 p.m. He’d hoped not to have to use that info, but whatever. Someday this will make a great anecdote for his episode of Behind The Music.

Glenn hovers across the street until he sees a silhouetted figure toss a bag into the dumpster in the alley, then casually strolls over once the figure goes back inside. The sides of the dumpster are taller and have fewer handholds than he’d pictured, but he drags over some pallets and manages to climb in. It’s half empty and the bag has landed right on top, safe from the nasty trash juices that are soaking the cuffs of his jeans.

The first thing he sees when he tears the bag open is a plain bagel, and the first bite he takes is so good that he almost passes out. He’s so busy wolfing it down that he doesn’t notice the approaching steps from outside until another bag of trash flies over the top of the dumpster and bounces off his head.  

“Watch it,” he says reflexively. Then he freezes, not even chewing as he strains to listen for movement outside. Nothing. Maybe they just tossed the bag and walked back inside. He might get away with this.

“Yo, Templeton,” a voice says from outside the dumpster. “You gonna quit pretending you’re not in there, or should I close the lid?”

Glenn considers his options for a moment, but now that he comes to think of it… “Yeah, I’m realizing I don’t have anything to stand on in here. Little help?”

That’s the first time he hears her laugh. Even knowing he was the butt of the joke, he wants to hear it again. He gets his chance seconds later, when her head pops above the wall of the dumpster.

“Would you look at that? Somebody threw away a perfectly good dumbass.” Then that laugh rings out for the second time

Even his innate panache can’t overcome being hungry, chest-high in trash bags, and covered with flour. He’s humbled, and she’s amused, and that somehow turns into a connection that surprises both of them with how deep it gets and how fast.

If Glenn meets her at any other moment than that, he blows it by trying to be cool and charming. He lucked out. It’s perfect timing.

Morgan’s too good for him on any level you can name. Too cool for him, too smart, too tough, too beautiful. A better musician than him, both with the actual music and the business side. She’s the one who teaches him how to scrounge and hustle, how to read a contract’s fine print and argue with a booking agent who doesn’t want to pay up. Sometimes it feels like every other living soul on earth is elbow-to-elbow with them, fighting for the same scraps that they are, but it’s clear that Morgan’s the one in a million who’s going to make it. And he’s along for the ride, feeling like the luckiest son of a bitch alive every single damn day.    ***

***

Seven years hearing her laugh every day. Seven years getting to be the one who makes her laugh, sometimes even on purpose.

“I think we should get married,” he says one day, and she laughs in his face.

“You still think it’s more legit if the government knows about it, huh?” But she softens, because she knows what he’s actually trying to say, because of course she does. “I get it, baby. This is the real deal. In sickness and health, for better or for worse, and so forth. I’m not signing any paperwork, but you know we throw a good party. Let’s just do the fun parts. You down?”

It’s a very good party, and afterward she calls him “my husband” and they make plans to get rings. Later, if she’s tipsy and feels like teasing him, she calls him “my first husband,” and she laughs. Then she squeezes his face in her hands and gives him a kiss to make sure he understands that she’s only joking. He always knows she’s joking. He always lets her kiss him anyway.

***

Morgan spends a few days thinking she’s got food poisoning before realizing a stowaway has outwitted their precautions. Glenn’s always counted that as very good timing by Nicholas -  if that tricky little bastard shows up any earlier than he does, there’s no way Glenn even considers becoming a parent. But once they decide to go for it, it’s more fun than they’d have ever imagined. They build a lot of castles in the air together while they’re waiting to meet Nick. Glenn says he wants enough kids for a Partridge Family style band, and Morgan agrees as long as nobody plays the tambourine.

They discuss it endlessly, but finally decide a percussionist is the first priority. The closer the due date gets, the more it seems like their new bandmate agrees. Morgan grabs Glenn’s hand and puts it on her belly so he can feel the urgent kicks. “Check out this sick drum solo.”

Nick inherits his parents’ knack for knowing how to make an entrance. He’s so fashionably late that Morgan decides they should just party without him. It’s like ditching the friend who’s taking too long to get ready, except for the part where they can’t actually leave him behind. She and Glenn hit up their favorite venue that very night. The music thumps through their bodies like a pulse. The energy of the crowd makes them forget how long they’ve been waiting. And if anybody has any concerns about seeing a ridiculously pregnant woman dancing her heart out until her hair sticks to her face with sweat, they’re smart enough to keep their mouths shut.

Fear of missing out is apparently hardwired, and Nick graciously deigns to join them a few days later. Everything changes. Three a.m. feels a lot different when you know you’ll be awake again at 4:30, and 5, and probably 7, and maybe 8 for good measure, and…

“This new guy can’t hang,” Morgan mutters. She’s standing beside the bed, Nick tucked against her shoulder, patting his back and swaying. Glenn’s sitting up in bed, trying to stay awake out of solidarity, losing the battle.

“New guy is a lightweight,” he says. “And he’s pretty nasty. That dude does not know what a toilet is for.”

“Come on, man, get it together,” Morgan says softly to the fussing figure in her arms. “We can’t take you anywhere.” Baby Nick finally burps and spits up a little onto Morgan’s shirt. A few additional angry hiccups are all he can manage before he falls asleep.

“Did you hear that?” Morgan murmurs as she lowers him into the crib. “He said he was gonna fight me. Slow your roll, new guy, you aren’t ready for this heat.”

She collapses back onto the bed next to Glenn. “I’m bluffing. He’s kicking my ass.”

“Me too,” Glenn says, “but at least we outnumber him.” ***

***

Not long after Nick’s second birthday, Morgan notices that she’s a couple of days late. It’s not a big deal, it usually doesn’t mean anything. Glenn makes a joke about the Close Family Quartet, and Morgan says she’ll grab a test when she gets groceries that weekend. But whether their lead guitarist was about to debut or still waiting in the wings, she made an amateur mistake and left things a little too late. The band broke up first. That’s show business for you.

People always want to know what happened. Glenn never gets into details. They must make up their own pictures in their head: a rain-slick curve taken too fast, a semi truck jack-knifing across the highway. It makes more sense for something like that to happen when you already know you’re in danger.

It’s the middle of the day. He’s going maybe five over the speed limit, keeping pace with traffic. He’s not high or drunk or tired or even distracted. They’re just in the wrong place at the wrong time. A dog runs into the road, someone swerves to miss it, someone else tries to get out of their way. Barely a fender-bender, except that their car gets just enough of a push to end up in the intersection.

Early on, he thinks a lot about how a few seconds here and there could change things.

The dog runs into the street a little later, and then the oncoming traffic isn't trying to beat a yellow light.

The dog runs into the street a little earlier, and they drive home with a scraped bumper.

But that’s Bill’s half-assed way of thinking about it, and Glenn knows better. It’s true, it could have been different. It could have been much worse.

He drives a split second slower, and the other car meets theirs with a direct hit, crumpling the back seat as well as the front with far more force than Nick’s booster seat can deflect.

He drives a split second faster, and the clipped bumper spins them into the next lane, and he never makes it to the hospital at all, and Nick doesn’t have anybody left.

Glenn knows now what his dad was talking about in those grumbling laments. It’s like trying to put together two tracks that are just slightly out of sync. Where do you snip out a piece to make things fit right again? What if you’re already balanced on that tipping point with the fewest misfortunes and the most lucky breaks? What happens if you start messing with that?

He can’t second-guess. It happened the way it happened, and he’s still here, and Nick’s still here, so he still has a job to do. He’s going to be there for Nick the whole way, along for the ride, feeling like the luckiest son of a bitch alive because he gets to be here at all. It could have gone another way. Timing is everything.

[valehirvas]

dude you're great but people are *very* good at sex recognition (with the caveats that women are better at it then men, men are easier to categorize than women, and adults are better at it than children). I’m going to send another ask with the DOIs to some studies proving this since tumblr hates links: (DOI 1 and 2) it's also a very rapid process with an identifiable neurological correlate (DOI 3) and works with just point light figures (DOI 4)

one 10 (.) 1006 (/) jecp (.) 1999 (.) 2554  two 10 (.) 1016 (/) j (.) brainresbull (.) 2004 (.) 03 (.) 010  three 10 (.) 1016 (/) j (.) cortex (.) 2020 (.) 02 (.) 007  four 10 (.) 1037 (/) 0096-1523 (.) 31 (.) 6 (.) 1247

Okay, fair, and I know this - but real life is a bit more complicated than a study would let you think. The thing is, humans make these determinations in a split second hundreds of times a day. Imagine the number of determinations made in just a single location in a city per hour. Do you know how many people we cross paths with casually every day? You make that mistake MUCH more often than you’d think; the number of these mistakes made by all individuals at any given time is a number that I don’t have the math skills to calculate.

What this translates to is that people who are more difficult to sex at a glance get misgendered, or “pass”, literally all the time. In more in-depth connections it gets trickier, but when you’re moving about in a public space or going about your business that involves casual human contact, the number of people who sex you x instead of y grows significantly.

This is obviously due to various factors, but let’s look at some: firstly, there are those exact rapid processes that we use to sex individuals we meet. You can glance at someone and see that they have bushier brows, more angular features and facial hair and in a split second you’ve determined this individual is a male. At the same time another person looked at this same guy and went “short stature, round build, small hands, female”. My very much female friend is misgendered often - even in dresses - because, I presume, she’s tall and angular and has a shaved head. I’m personally a tough 50% 50% - Finnish people tend to assign me male while foreigners tend to assign me female.

This leads me to the next point: when you give people what they expect, they tend to go with it. Any given person out there isn’t expecting a woman to be rocking a beard, therefore if they see an individual with a beard, that is a man. Even if she’s wearing a dress and makeup, that’s a man. It’ll take some serious convincing to have the public declare otherwise. Masculine hairstyles and clothing choices signal men, so even when the person in question is clearly female, if you only look at them in passing you might see a male; or you see long hair and a summer dress and you think oh, a woman. You’re reading not only physical traits but also signals sent by the individual themselves, and you’re reading them based on your socialization and prior experience. Mix this up with the above, and making mistakes becomes much easier than before.

So... yes, people are generally very good at determining sex. You’re not wrong: we get it right almost every time. But people as a whole are also extremely bad at it at the same time, and I’m specifically speaking in terms of casual interaction, not relationship or even friendship depth, although some people really just have no clue deep into either of those territories. And for the people who tend to get mixed results, we get them very, very often, because there are just so many people out there making those judgements. Even if you get it right, the next person very well might not.

And to make it clear, this isn’t just about walking past someone on the street. I’ve been complimented on my endurance under the needle by my tattoo artist who told me that men in general are pussies when it comes to sticking to the chair for a longer period of time, and he didn’t know I was trans. Neither did the random optician who talked to me in length about how male brows affect the grease buildup in glasses. You can be sure either of them would be mortified to know I’m female all the while they were addressing me as a man. People don’t expect trans people: we’re not usually a thing you have to think about. So if it looks like a duck...

You’d be surprised how ridiculously easy it is to confuse people, even when you’re not even trying.

Now if we’re talking about going deeper than everyday living, I don’t know. I’m openly trans and I won’t associate with individuals who are not safe to disclose this information to, and I most certainly haven’t been having relationships that way. But even then we can look at people like that one beauty youtuber who caused a scandal recently for having lied to her husband throughout their marriage about her transition, and you know that that happens. So yeah, it’s not an exact science. People see what they want to see.

[universal-kitty]

   I plan to return to my favored coping method when I need “I’m not me” time- roleplaying- but before I did that.... I wanted to talk about what happened. Why I’ve been so depressed. Why I’ve been quiet. Because for the first and last time....... I don’t have to worry about what my stepdad thinks of me.

TW: transphobia, misgendering, mentions of a lot of -isms (sexism, racism; stepdad is an ASSHOLE), mentions of suicide and depression

   TL;DR: I finally told Marshal- my stepdad- about being nonbinary. Not only did he react the way I knew he would, but my mom largely defended him before all of this and even said my pronouns were “confusing” to her. I had been hoping to have support from her, so this broke my heart. I officially don’t live with them anymore, but I struggle to find a single place to be in, due to my boyfriend’s dad being uncomfortable with me being home without Cam (my bf).

   ....Alright, let’s get into a bit of a doozy of a story...

   It started with another fucking day of Marshal being on his bullshit. The day previous (13th), he made a comment about how “and that’s why women shouldn’t be cops,” because, while he and mom were watching a true crime show, a woman police officer brought up an acronym. Mom guessed it, was wrong, and Marshal brought that out there.

   Yikes.

   The day of, he was watching a kid’s movie with his daughters (the younger three; the movie was Hotel Transylvania) and he wanted to know if there was a derogatory term for Irish people. He was going with “potato eaters”, but wasn’t sure if that was right, or if there was anything worse he could be saying. (And he wanted to know so he could say it.) He tried to ask mom, citing a Jewish slur, but she said she didn’t know so he could shrug and go back to “potato eaters.”

   After they left to go to a birthday party, I overheard a video on his phone mention “...the hypocrisy of the left...” and decided maybe it was time I had enough.

   ....Except she defended him when I brought it up. “Oh, he’s half-Irish, so....” “We can’t change what he believes in. He was raised like that and the construction site reinforces his views. Even Google shows him more and more of that kind of thing.”

   I got understandably upset that my mom was defending him and didn’t understand why I’d be feeling unsafe around someone like that. I left to go back on the computer and talk to friends. Buuuut because I was in tears at that point, mom felt like it was time to pursue the issue.....by standing right next to me. The monitor was HUGE on the family computer. (My laptop wasn’t at the house due to it crashing the internet a lot.) So I felt even MORE cornered.

   In came a talk about MY GENDER turning into politics. How Republicans and Democrats don’t talk anymore, how the parties think of each other like family, and it just sucks, to her. I bring it back to the ACTUAL talking point..... Only to get the reaction I mentioned in the TL;DR: she thinks that singular “they” is weird and not viable for pronoun usage. No matter what I say or try to.

   My sobbing draws out Marshal from upstairs, who asks what’s going on. I decide to power through and talk about what’s been delayed for months, if not almost a full year... I’m nonbinary and want he/they pronouns.

   See, though... His mom had called him when I attempted “social suicide” on Facebook, coming out originally. Despite having explained myself and my gender/sexualities, miss grandma decided to tell this to Marshal as, “I think there’s something wrong with Rachel.”

   .....Which was then followed up with what I knew was coming: “I think there’s something wrong with you. I think you hate your body. You’re always going to be a beautiful girl to me.”

   Now, maybe it wasn’t a wise thing to scream. (Did feel good, though. Emotional turmoil calls for a good scream, even if I still wonder if I frightened our neighbors.) It was a less wise thing to hit myself... Though I also thought Marshal had left the room. He had not; instead hovering at the bottom of the stairs or on the stairs themselves, hovering over us.

   .....It’s an emotional situation, I do lash out in screams, and I’m not proud of it. But I do want to note that it’s hard to be autistic and talk about things like this when NOBODY ELSE is the mediator. (I talk about my dad a lot when it comes to this part. He took me being polyam very well, as though he didn’t understand it, he made sure to deescalate my panic and explain it more in-depth, so he could get a better idea of what it is I’m doing. Why it’s healthy, why it makes me happy... Stuff like that. Ending it with, “If it makes you happy, awesome.”)

   Mom? She....wasn’t doing much, at that point. Sitting in a chair and sobbing. Misgendering me- literally- behind my back. “She thinks you’re not accepting her.” (Because he isn’t? Duh?)

   Long story short of Marshal also trying to needle mom into saying something against him, as the only religious person in the room has decided he feels VERY attacked and wants to hear his wife say some shit, too..... Cam shows up to pick me up. I stumble out of the house in slip on shoes and a pair of ancient PE shorts.

   ....Went back later to pick up some stuff w/ him and a friend of ours in silence. Mom was still crying. She’d try to eventually use that against me to paint herself the victim and gaslight me into making ME feel awful for....... [checks notes] Wanting my gender to be respected.

   I made another semi-bad decision of making a FB post talking about my anger and mentioning LBGT+ suicides, because being perceived as only female was really putting a damper on my mood, on coming back every day (after hanging out with Cam) and dealing with depression. I was NOT happy in that house and it definitely was a rising factor in why I often felt hopeless and, well, depressed.

   I let my friends respond to family since I was gonna be out anyways and I also trust these people with my life. I very commonly mince my words or try to give some ground out of politeness, thus never really getting far when it comes to arguments. (Everyone always seems smarter than me and I end up feeling so stupid after....) Of course, that then resulted in my mom and Elo’s mom feeling targeted and attacked by my friends and boyfriend (who had EVEN MORE RIGHT to say shit), apparently the latter even going on to say this was a “family matter” and my friends (and boyfriend!!) had no place in it.

   ....Except I let them and the only negatives that came from that was my mom having to face facts that she WAS gaslighting me. Oh, and didn’t use my pronouns until AFTER a friend of mine called her out for it. But okay.

.:.

   At this point in time, I....definitely am bitter on how my mom has chosen to go about certain things- the gaslighting and a convo on Insta (that I have screenshotted) where she said “if you cut out all the people who have different opinions from you, you’re going to lose a lot of people”- but I’m not as mad at her as I used to be? (Or maybe it’s the gaslighting. I can’t tell anymore.) It just hurts a shitton to realize that the only reason I couldn’t talk this out with her.....was because of Marshal.

   She wanted to play both sides and that isn’t POSSIBLE when “both sides” are “choose between your LGBT+ child or the racist, sexist, transphobic breadwinner and father to 3 kids.” You know who she’d choose. And she did.

   (Also, consider that “different opinions” should REALLY mean “we agree on some things, disagree on others, but that open-mindedness keeps us close” and NOT “befriend a person who makes suicide jokes, thinks your gender is a fad/fake, and makes racist remarks, “but it’s just a joke, bro”.” Like?? Just me????)

   Definitely pissed at Marshal, though. That’s been a constant from day one of me realizing how garbage he is. Even a friend who defended my mom said fuck him, which really goes to show how awful the man is, without needing to know all of the other things he’s said before. (And he’s said a LOT.) And he’s also the reason that I’m not going back to the house. Why I’m going to try to be moving out.

   If it was just my mom, I’d consider it. I’d give it a month to think about things and what I want to do, where I want to go...but Marshal involved? No thanks. Never again. She thinks I’m going to “get a dose of reality” and come crawling back home? Nope. And if she keeps talking like that, none of my future kids are going to meet grandma. >:/