#most of us didn’t even know we were trans when we became friends we just started to realize we were all trans a few years later

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AMITA for lying to everyone I know about my identity’s as a queer/neurodivergent person?

I (18M) am a bisexual, transgender man who is also autistic, ADHD, and OCD. When people hear this about me, even if they know me, I feel like they build up this image of me as an awkward, “cringy” 11 year old who’s obsessed with “cringy” fandoms. And while i have a qualm with this because I know they are looking down on people who are just less masked/higher support needs, I also dislike that they do this because it’s just not who I am. Without the labels, I mostly seem like just a normal dude, if not a bit nerdy.

I also used to be extremely bullied as a kid (7-12) to the point of a suicide attempt, mostly due to homophobic, transphobic, or ablest remarks about me. Since then I’ve completely changed community’s and do not talk to anyone i knew before high school.

When authority figures (Teachers, Show Directors, Investors of the teen programs I lead) apply ablest/transphobic stereotypes or prejudices to me, they also tend to be less,,, normal? around me. Less kind compared to other kids, call me an “inspiration”, or they’ll coddle me when I’m incredibly capable. I do a lot for someone my age- and I know the connections I make now at conferences and whatnot will help me in the long run. My dad’s family is poor, and my immediate family is more comfortable but not that much. I know I’m smart, and I can weaponize that to get a better life for my family by getting good scholarships and jobs in good fields. I can’t just let people who could be very important to my goals look down on me. So i just.. don’t tell them anything about me. They might assume Im odd or “not normal”, and for the most part I let them assume whatever, but if i’m ever asked directly about anything I deny it. Especially in relation to me being transgender; I have the very privileged ability to pass without any medical intervention, and I use that to pretend to be cisgender. Living in the deep south of USAmerica, most of who I am could make my social life very uncomfortable to downright miserable.

Here’s where the problem starts happening. when my social and (what i consider to be a) “professional” life occasionally touch, I wouldn’t be able to be out everywhere socially without someone I don’t want knowing finding out. So i don’t tell any of my classmates/friends/peers about any of my identities either. I hang out with queer and straight people, never be actively homophobic/ablest, and will be very vague about the two questions i’ve ever received about any of that stuff. It’s very, very exhausting to pretend all the time, every day, especially pretending that I’m cisgender because it’s a tricky game, but I can’t really back down and I’m afraid that I might get bullied again if I was ever open about it with classmates.

A few months ago, I was dating this guy, who i’ll call Kai (17M) Kai is also a transgender man, but does not pass at all and is comfortable with it. He’ll get shit sometimes, but also has essentially no straight friends. I told him I was queer when we became good friends, and then told him I was trans after we started dating. I also told him why I lie about being cishet or neurotypical, and while he didn’t seem happy he didn’t push it at first. I told him that I understood if he didn’t want to be in a secret relationship, but because of where we live and what I want to do I wasn’t comfortable with being out again. He said he still wanted to date me, and claimed he would support me, and we had a pretty good relationship overall.

A month after that, he started bringing it up again. He told me that I was more than my identity, and if people didn’t see me for who I am instead of stereotypes, it isn’t worth talking to them at all. And while I agree with the sentiment, it’d never be possible to just not hear someone if they were harassing me, and while I truely dislike a lot of the authority figures that I engage with, they are in the professional fields I’m interested in, and I’m incredibly lucky for getting where I am so early. Kai also said that since I am well known in our very small school (only 300 kids), being out could be a positive influence on what people think about autistic people or trans people. In a particularly heated fight, he even said I was doing a disservice or betrayal to my community by not representing or being proud of being apart of them publicly.

We broke up pretty soon after, but I think about what he said a lot. I know that I wouldn’t be the only out person at my school, and that my school is actually a lot better compared to most local schools, which are a lot larger and… dramatic, but I just don’t think I could be out without going back to how I used to be mentally. And Kai was right about how I could be a good influence on some of the meaner classmates- I do think some of my peers who I ingenuinely connect with might reconsider their prejudices if they knew I was transgender.

I’m intentionally choosing not to take the opportunity to do better. It wouldn’t ruin ALL my relationships with the authority figures I consider to be important holding, since it would just be my school, It might dampen one or two of them. Plus, I’m lying to pretty much everyone who knows me. They build relationships with a false idea of me, and I feel like an asshole sometimes because I’m not honest.

TLDR: I’m a transgender, autistic guy in a very bigoted community. Everybody thinks i’m cishet and neurotypical. AMITA for not being proud of who I am because of potential social losses, and AMITA for lying to people and giving friends/peers false ideas about who I am even if they would not be friends with me if they knew?

What are these acronyms?

[plumesofio]

“Tme/tma is wrong because no trans person has gendered power over another” that’s just straight up not true. I’m trans and yet sure as shit have power over transw&fs. If wym is that other trans ppl don’t inherently all have power over tw&fs I get what ur saying, that’s an overly simplified view of things. But like. Some do and I get why tw&fs wanna talk abt it.

During my first job out as trans, I was still early in transition and most ppl just saw me as a kinda ugly cis girl. I’d cut my hair shortish and started dressing masc and wore my little he/they pin. I was the only trans person there at first. And yeah it wasn’t a great time that first year. Customers at my job would ask me what I was and misgender me on purpose. But with my coworkers, as much as I chafed against this being the case, I was taken in as one of the girls. Later a new supervisor transferred in, let’s call her Laura. She was a cishet white woman with a little pride flag pin, ‘cause she had a gay kid and allegedly supported gay ppl. She got my pronouns wrong a lot, no matter how often I corrected her (and when she used em she only used they, never he) and that sucked major ass. But for the most part she was nice enough to me. A bit after that though, a visibly trans woman was hired, Destiny. We quickly became friends so I got to hear a lot about how the work environment was going for her. To put it briefly, Laura started up a little mean girl clique with other employees that was all awful to Destiny. Like misgendering her, insulting her, giving her all the worst manual labor tasks, spreading rumors. Destiny is one of the kindest most genuine human beings on the planet I’ll have you know, she didn’t do a thing to deserve this treatment. It came to management’s attention but instead of firing Laura she just got transferred to a better position somewhere else. Even outside of that, customers would call in to complain about Destiny over nothing while misgendering her. Eventually she even got hate crimed when a customer called her a slur and threw a full drink at her. Neither of us work there anymore. But the point is—I could’ve joined that mean girl clique if I’d wanted to. I had the ability to be horrible to Destiny with little to no downside if I so chose. I had oodles of social power over her even though we were both trans. This isn’t the situation of every transmasculine person but like. There, in that store, I was the tme, and she was the tma. Plain as day.

I doubt the tme/tma framework will be used in its current state forever, it’ll probably improve over time. But if you want every trans woman and fem to just Accept that no trans person has any power over them? You have a lot of perspective to gain.

[chronicallycouchbound]

Winter Solstice Reflections / Homeless Persons Memorial Day

I was 16 when I moved from the Pacific Northwest to New England. I had recently come out as trans, and I was hoping the move would be a fresh start. But the physical abuse I had already been facing at home escalated. 

It was two days after Christmas when I was told to leave and never come back, so I packed what little belongings I had into a bag as quickly as I could and rushed out the door. I didn’t have food or a plan or anywhere to stay. 

It’s my luck that the first blizzard I ever experienced was on my first night of homelessness here. I remember the cold night air on my freshly bruised skin and it felt nice. It felt like freedom. As I crossed the bridge from one town to the next, the snowflakes were still small and gently falling. 

In exactly one week, it will mark 8 years since that first night in the cold. It wasn’t my first or last time being homeless, but it was the longest time, and I didn’t know many people, let alone people I could live with.

Most often, I stayed in the middle of nowhere. I slept on floors, in cars, on benches, under awnings, in abandoned buildings; and anywhere I could put my backpack down as a pillow and throw my jacket over me as a blanket. The cold no longer felt comforting– it was a threat to my existence. I prayed every time I closed my eyes to not freeze to death. 

I didn’t have proper clothes— Chuck Taylors which had too many holes to count, basketball shorts worn under my pants that were two sizes too big for me, well-loved band tees, and a jacket that wasn’t even close to waterproof. I felt cold in my bones. 

On nights I had nowhere else, I walked around all night until McDonald’s or Dunkin opened up. I remember counting steps to focus on anything but the stinging of cold. I would go into the bathroom and run my hands under the faucet until they turned from pale blue to bright red. My hands burned when they finally thawed out. Eventually, the blue became just another thing to carry with me, like my backpack and the weight of homelessness. 

For a few months, I spent nights all over the county, and then, after finally getting permission from my parents to access it, stayed at the youth shelter for three years. On my first night at the shelter, I arrived late– nearly midnight. I was afraid to go in. But, they set me up a bed anyway. 

Soon after I laid down, a guy a few years older than me came in from work. His bed was right next to mine. He leaned over and whispered to me in the darkness that if I needed anything, just to let him know. His name was Peter. 

That was the year I met my street mom who told me I reminded her of her younger self. Her name was Sarah. I couch-surfed with Abby, who always snuck me extra pizza from her work so I wouldn’t go hungry. 

Living at the shelter I met Ryan, who made us laugh as if it kept us warm. And Ariah gave anyone anything they needed if she had it. I miss Peter, and Sarah, and Abby, and Ryan, and Ariah, and all the many other friends I’ve lost. 

My friends were people who stood up for me, who gave me the clothes off their backs, food off their plates, and cared for me better than family. We all struggled together and never had to explain ourselves. We were welcome just as we were. 

It’s hard for me to exist in this town sometimes. I walk around and can see all the places where I nearly died, where someone else died, or where I slept at night. I’ve lost count of all the people I’ve lost over the years. I have fond memories of rooms and cars filled with people smiling and telling jokes, and then I remember that I’m the only one still alive out of all of us.  

People tell me I should feel lucky to have survived, congratulating me. Acting like I should be proud to "overcome" while the system still hurts us all. As my friends– my family, are still in the streets dying. I feel guilty to just be alive. Our whole community is grieving all the time. 

Tonight, as the sun sets, the temperature will feel like 2 degrees. There will be 15 hours and 18 minutes of darkness. This is only the beginning of a long, cold winter. Our community members will still be in the cold. We are still dying for warmth. 

We don’t need art installations, we don’t need benches with three bars, we don’t need air b&bs. We need fewer barriers and more supports. We need safe, stable, reliable, and affordable housing. We’ve needed it for a long time. As my good friend Ariah always said, “Keep your coins, we want change”

(From my speech on 12/21/23 for National Homeless Persons Memorial Day)

[nerdyqueerandjewish]

Nothing happened to trigger this but I’m just so mad at my dad and just … sad about our relationship. It’s really unsatisfying though because it’s basically me having an argument in my head because I never see him. I’m sure he is blissfully unaware I have any issue.

We had made plans to play the new Pokémon snap together the afternoon of grandma’s (his mom’s) funeral. It would be good to spend time together and we played the original Pokémon snap on the N64 when I was a kid. It was going to be good. Then it became “actually I’m going to grab a drink with some friends first.” Ok. They went to a bar that is weird and conservative, but he is oblivious to that sort of stuff and how maybe his two trans kids might not want to join him! (Another example - in 2020 he moved to Florida and continues to think it is paradise). We hung out at my mom’s. 7:40 I finally hear from him asking if we still want to get together and game. Not really … being that you’ve been drinking for the last six hours… that doesn’t sound fun to me and it’s been a long ass day and I’m ready to sleep for a hundred years.

And I’m just thinking more of like… my experience growing up. My parents divorced when I was in 4th grade. He had custody of us every other weekend, and we loved visiting him, but! He didn’t even take us as often as he could have! And so many weekends he would drag us to some weird friends house and have me babysit while they went out. We were always sleeping on some random couch while the adults came back and were super loud and rowdy all night. And as a kid I didn’t question this, it was all I knew. But now I know people who share custody of their kids and they want to spend all the time they possibly can with them! Doing things with friends and their kids, totally fine! Many fun times can be had! but like, you haven’t seen your children in months and you’re going to leave them to go out to a bar with your friends?? Then sleep most of the next day?? Hello??

Last two times he called me - first one was to wish me a happy Chanukah and say he loves me, but he was drunk and repeating himself over and over again. Most recent time he was also drunk and wanted to tell me about how the song “Brass Monkey” came on and “don’t you remember that song??” and he was not coherent enough to actually have a conversation with. I try to frame it as like “that’s so nice he’s thinking of me” but ?? if anyone else only called me when they were incoherently drunk I’d stop answering.

I don’t know man. He’s not a bad person, but I just wish he was a better dad.

[unavailableapple]

for that radfem ask meme thingy u reblogged, number 1, 3, 4, and 8 ^_^

(also just wanna say I love ur blog)

Thank you!!

I think I’ve already addressed 3? It should be in another post somewhere but you might have to scroll a bit, sorry about that :’) my blog is a tad cluttered. I need tags to separate things.

Anyway content warning because I’m going to be discussing sexual assault and harassment in all of these answers.

1 is leftist men. Haha oh wow I have a lot but I can’t even put all my thoughts into words. The funniest part about leftist men is that they’re all lying. Every single one. It takes at most three hang out sessions with a “feminist” leftist guy for him to start talking about how evil the Barbie movie is because it’s misandrist, how all his exes were fucking crazyyyy, and how he can’t stand radical feminists. Okay so you’re a misogynist like every other man? Wow how counter-culture!

Over the summer I became friends with a man (mistake number one) who had similar interests to me and I was very excited to be friends. I don’t have many friends with these specific interests because they’re very niche and very masculine. I was so happy to be friends with this guy who showed no romantic or sexual interest in me finally. Frankly it would’ve been weird if he did show those interests considering he’s 26 years old and I was 19 at the time, which is a hell of an age gap. Best part? He was a HUGE leftist. He campaigned for Kamala Harris and had a ton of stickers on his computer about reproductive rights and the like. So I thought he was safe (mistake number two). After hanging out for a few weeks he invited me back to his house to play with his dog. And I accepted (mistake number three). I don’t think I need to finish the story. 🤷‍♀️

4 is trans-identified males. I have a lot of stories. I think I’ve already talked about the time a man stole my cultural name because I wouldn’t have sex with him (yes this ACTUALLY happened). Here’s another story. When I was thirteen years old and identified as a heterosexual trans man (LOL) I joined a book group for transgender adults. I had lied to my parents so they would let me go. Anyway the only person who showed up was a trans-identified male in an adult dress that was bright pink and frilly. He repeatedly “misgendered” me (called me female and she/her). He took extreme delight in saying ��us girls.” He repeatedly moved closer to me and touched my thigh. He asked me to come back to his apartment but I said my mom was waiting for me in the car (true). Keep in mind I was freshly 13 years old. He was in his mid forties and a teacher. This was SEVEN YEARS AGO.

I left and told my girlfriend at the time (who was also a trans man) said I was transphobic. She said if I didn’t want to be misgendered I should make more of an effort to ‘pass’ (I had to stop binding my chest because I was using tape and had injured myself pretty badly already). I said that I still called this man she/her pronouns despite him having a beard and my girlfriend said, “That isn’t the same. It’s harder for trans women to pass.”

I was thirteen years old. Goddamn.

8 is the ‘sex work’ industry. I think I’ve already talked about this but I used to be an underage cam girl when I was homeless (for the first time). I did other things as well but I was never an actual prostitute so I do not purport to have that experience. I engaged in this behavior between the ages of around 11-13 until I was able to return to my home.

Recently in class we were discussing the way that prostitution affects women in impoverished countries. I used the term “victim of prostitution” and was IMMEDIATELY “corrected” to the term sex worker! I replied, “As a previous underage quote-unquote sex worker, I find the term sex worker to be extremely capitalistic and dehumanizing so I’d prefer not to use it.” The SILENCE that came over the room, damn! I do not usually like to talk about my personal history with people I don’t know very well (actually…no one in my real life knows about my past with these things, not even my mother, because it feels so shameful and embarrassing). But that just came out of my mouth. They have not “corrected” me since.

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

Thinking About Tiffany Pollard Today

Tiffany "New York" Pollard. I know that a lot of people have a lot of opinions about her, but I, for one, feel like we "came up" together. I watched her from the time she was just some girl fighting for Flavor Fav through many twists and turns, some of which happened for all of us to see.

I remember whenever she was facing backlash for her transphobic statements and how taken aback she was by it while everyone pounced on her, and whenever I saw the interaction, I immediately thought, "Oh. She thinks that this is just part of the gig, because of how she was handled when she arrived on the scene." And. Ultimately, I wound up being right, like I usually am (TS Madison confirmed for me basically everything that I had said about the situation).

Tiffany was frequently called a man, a tranny, transvestite, and a drag queen, and it was something that I remember her embracing and never getting mad or upset, saying that these people are fabulous, just like me, etc. So, whenever she's asking that woman about being a man and having certain genitals, she quite literally thought that this is just part of people thinking/saying that you are or look like a man.

Maddie had to explain to her that the people who were speaking about her in those ways were also being transphobic, to which Tiffany was confused, because 'How can somebody be being transphobic to you if you aren't trans?' They are conversations that she didn't seem to have had before, and her trans friends got her together about it and she was able to learn moving forward. (As of now, I don't think that since then she has ever had a similar incident and she still seems to have the support and following of her trans friends and loved ones).

But, one thing that I think about every time Tiffany makes her way back into the spotlight is the fact that we are essentially the same age, but when I was spending my first semester in college, not realizing that I was wasting my time and money, she was getting started on her tract to becoming a "problematic fave" and resetting the course of reality tv.

She did so much that SHE was the star of Flavor of Love, and these were the days before they even CONSIDERED mental health or support. This woman, my age. Early 20s, getting into one of the most exploitative tv situations in history for a man twice her age, who embarrassed her on national tv TWICE, by loving all over her and then selecting someone else in the end.

The years following this debut as the HBIC of reality tv, we got to see a lot of her mom and their shaky relationship, we got to see her attempt to find love multiple times, and do various jobs. We got to see this woman who entered the business in the reality genre sort of stay in that arena for 2 decades. She has so many iconic moments, lines, reactions. There are people who have no idea what her voice sounds like, but they know things she's said because her face has been popular for memes for all this time. She even gets paid to do all of this.

But, she also always plays the villain role. She's always seen as a foe or an antagonist, because she was a hotheaded 23 year old when she first got on camera (maybe younger if it took them a while to record the show). And, I have seen over the years people trash her up and down. Yes, she has a very large fan base, as well, but she's gotten a lot of hate from then up until now, and I don't know if people actually think about the fact that she was in her early 20s whenever VH1 found her willing to pimp herself out to Flavor motherfucking Flav, who once again, is twice her age.

Even her moments of supposed healing (VH1's Family Therapy With Dr. Jenn) was put on TV for our entertainment. This woman really had a weird adulthood, because reality stars simply were not famous whenever she became a famous reality star, and reality tv was not as big or important as it is today. She didn't become rich from her Flavor of Love fame. She has what she has now specifically because she's always out there hustling and loaning out her personality/persona for her fame and fortune.

She set the bar for a lot of the reality tv tropes that we see today. Many of the girlies do not even realize that when they get on camera and they're tryna fit a certain reality role to get screen time, that they are simply emulating a woman who was just herself in her early 20s and was used as a formula that an industry was built upon. There were not many reality tv shows back then, but there were some and even though she wasn't the first, she is one of the first people who others after her decided that they would pick up characteristics from. She hasn't been able to be a full person in front of us and the moment she messes up, she is either met with people laughing at her pain or dragging her to hell for her mistakes.

Happy Birthday to that lady. She ain't perfect, but she has given us a lot and none of our asses ever really seem to want what's best for her. She's a character to most people. An avatar of reality that they watch to see what wild shit she'll do or say next. When, I know that there's a human woman there who I hope does have some grace in her life. Ionknow, Man. I just think Black women deserve some grace, even if they are imperfect people, but especially when their imperfections have been fodder for national audiences to laugh and chatter about, and for almost half of her life now. 

[lara-eats-the-rich]

[CW: Mentions of violence, gore, sex? I guess?]

So uh, a friend of mine told me that I desperately needed to make an account here, so here I am. Name’s Lara, and I’m a shapeshifter. Been one for 6 or 7 years now. I won’t really go into how that all happened – kinda ashamed of it, made a pact with some demon or whatever and am now cursed with only being able to sate my hunger by eating human flesh – not particularly pleasant to most people, I imagine, but I make do.

There’s plenty of not-so-great people out there that won’t be missed, ya know? Corrupt people, I mean. I’m not some monster who goes and eats innocent people off the street. It’s more fun anyway to lure in some corrupt asshole only to tell them that their actions have consequences.

Fun. Yeah. It’s uh, really fun, actually. Like, really fun. Half the reason I became a shapeshifter in the first place was because of the fun of playing a character, if that makes sense. I could pretend to be literally anyone. The other half of the reason is because I hated who I had to be. Course, I didn’t expect the whole curse thing when I asked that “doctor” for the medicine. Only after starting the treatment did they tell me about the whole eating people thing. Wasn’t too pleased about that, as you can imagine – they only revealed themselves as a demon or something when I tried to kill them. Scared the shit out of me. Haven’t seen them since.

You’d think that whole situation doesn’t lend itself much to making friends, but there’s communities for everything, it turns out. I’m not even the only shapeshifter. Far from it, actually. I mean, the “hating who I had to be” thing isn’t uncommon either – I did label myself as trans for a while, but not anymore. I’m not limited to one look, one person, one form - so much for ‘basic biology’, eh?

Actually, I know a gal who’s got much stronger shapeshifting stuff than me. We’re really good friends, actually. She’s trans, too, but spends most of her time in her actual body, even if she could get to exactly where she wants to be with a snap of her fingers. It’s kinda remarkable, actually. She says it’s because she doesn’t know how she’ll end up looking anyway. That’s pretty brave of her, I think.

As far as I know, she got into the whole shapeshifting thing because of a demon, too. I mean, they call themselves a demon, or a goddess, or a demon-goddess, so it’s not strictly the same thing. Amy’s not even cursed by it or anything. Lucky bitch. The ‘goddess’, as she calls them, apparently granted her the shapeshifting stuff because – get this – she wants Amy to be her heir. Yeah. So now she and the goddess have the same abilities. Supposedly she’s the goddess of chaos and change or something, but I’ve never heard of her. Their abilities even extend to other people, too. They make these little symbols, or gestures, or something with their hands and then they can just… change anyone. Amy, because she’s a nice person, only does it with willing participants – I’ll get into those later – but the goddess just does in on whoever she feels like, and calls it divine retribution, funnily enough.

I think I used to know her in school, actually. Weird coincidence, I guess. Course, we were both different people, metaphorically and literally. That was long before any of the transform-y things. It’s not that we were even friends, particularly. Well, we are now, of course, but we just didn’t really talk. I guess it took both of us to become the ‘real’ us before we actually got close to each other.

I mean, we’re not like that with each other. Found out pretty quickly after trying to uhh… “lure” in some food that I’m not really into sex. Or romance, particularly, either. So I guess I’m aro-ace. I just use it to get closer to my food so I can… you know. It’s got me in some pretty funny scenarios, looking back. Like, several times I’ve lured in a guy who ends up wanting me to give him head, only for me to literally eat his dick. I mean, it’s not that simple, of course, I won’t just go straight in for it, but I’m not interested in pleasuring the other people aside from just tricking them. That’s the fun bit.

Stuff like that is kinda the worst part about the eating people thing, though. But I have figured out some nice little ways around the actually yucky bits. You know, like the stomach, and uhh… lower bits. I’ve found that I can make some sort of chemical that basically causes all of that to get expelled from the body before I actually eat the targets. I don’t wanna deal with all the yucky stuff.

The process of getting rid of it all is kinda gross unfortunately – I usually bump into them “accidentally” and give them a little prick of the chemicals, then over the course of a week they sorta… throw up all of the bits I won’t eat. Not pleasant for them, sure, but its all turned into sludge anyway so it’s not like its recognisable to anyone. After that they feel perfectly fine, as if nothing happened. Not really sure if they can actually live properly after that, not having a digestive system and all. At least, by the time I give them that little injection I’ve already decided that they’re the target anyway.

There’s also another chemical I have that clots a lot of their blood where I bite them – I guess it’s a venom of sorts, which is kinda cool. Stops a lot of the major bleeding. Makes it so I don’t have to clean up too much. I’ve kinda gotten used to it, as you can tell. I used to put a lot of time into not leaving a trace behind, especially before the chemical stuff, but Amy and the goddess gave me all sorts of ideas that really help out so much. Shame I can’t share a meal with them. I mean, I guess I can, but I don’t get any sustenance from regular food. Still tastes good, though.

Jeez, I’ve really typed a lot, haven’t I? Maybe I’ll wrap it up for now. I’ll probably write some of my experiences down with the whole hunting thing sometime if anyone wants to read it. I guess its sorta incriminating, but it’s not like I can be arrested or something. I can probably escape from anywhere. That’s an odd thought, isn’t it? Anyway yeah, bad-guy-eating stories coming soon, I suppose. Or maybe let me know if there’s something you want to ask me? I’m open to that.

[internerdionality]

Well I would LOVE to hear more about the t4t4t gentlescribed modern AU— What situation have they found themselves in? If you’re inclined to post a snippet obviously I’d be thrilled to read it

Okay! 😊 So, this fic arose because I was talking with fandom friends how the most common character, by far, in the fandom to get headcanoned as trans is Izzy, to the extent that people are starting to tag Cis!Izzy on fics where he's not trans, right? Which, no judgment or negativity there whatsoever, we just happened to be talking about how and why that became a thing.

And then I said 'wouldn't it be funny if I wrote a modern AU where everyone except Izzy is trans?'

And of course, then I had to do that.

Another idea I'd been noodling on for a while was something happening between Lucius and Ed when Lucius goes in to comfort Ed in S01E10. (I've seen other variations of that, liked them a lot, always wanted to play with it.)

So. In this fic, Lucius and Stede are both trans men, everyone else in the crew is some flavor of not-cis, the Revenge is a queer nonprofit that helps provide housing and funds for trans/enby folk in need, Ed and Izzy run an antifa biker gang/minor drug ring, and Ed's egg starts to crack when they all run into each other. (That's all backstory, the fic starts with Lucius going in to comfort Ed after the catastrophe.)

Note that Ed is trans femme/enby in this fic, but she doesn't know that yet, so they are still using he/him pronouns in this snippet.

“Okay, well. Blackbeard. Sir. How are you doing?” “Don’t have to call me that,” Blackbeard said, a little bit of a whine in his voice. “I mean—I don’t know if I want to be Blackbeard anymore. Not like there’s even a gray beard, anymore.”  “We noticed that,” Lucius said tentatively. “What, ah—what happened? If you want to talk about it.”  Blackb—fuck, what was Lucius supposed to call him?—shrugged.  “Pigs said it was a security issue, could hide shit in it or some fucking BS like that. Coulda fought it, or kept a shorter one, but. Thought it’d maybe be smart, you know? Be less recognizable. Got a lot of enemies in prison. Didn’t end up staying long enough for it to matter, though.”  “That makes sense,” Lucius encouraged. “And, maybe it just felt like time to try something new?”  The other’s eyes widened and fixed on Lucius, as if he were seeing him for the first time.  “Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, I just… I wanted to be someone else, you know? Sick of being this.”  “Well, what would you like me to call you?” Lucius asked.  The person formerly known as Blackbeard pursed his lips. “I always liked it when people called me Eddie,” he said softly.

[furiousgoldfish]

Hii. Honestly I’m still confused whether I experienced abuse or not or what it was or even how bad it even was.

Basically, I’ve been homeschooled my whole life (well, until I was 10, when it became unschool, and most of my education knowledge that isn’t words and random stuff I’ve learned is still there, especially math.), never had a job nor probably ever will because I’m disabled, probably have ADHD+autism and definitely have depression+ocd, and the last physical friend I had was probably when I was about 12 or so (I’m 18 now). We live in an rv in a super small town and have been since I was 12 or 13ish. And I have an older brother. Honestly I feel kinda isolated, and even if something bad happened, I wouldn’t have anywhere to go.

Anyways, when I was around 9 or 10 or so apparently I started to get burnt out, and that turned into really bad depression when my grandparents died (and so did a bunch of other extended family members before them). My mom had to be a caretaker for my grandfather for nearly a whole year and my dad stayed home with me and my brother but all I remember during that time is escapism, binging for comfort, and my dad playing video games all day. Also one time I threw a notebook at a doctor because I was so overwhelmed and wasn’t getting any help.

Around 14 to 15, I was a real menace, constantly fighting everyone and stuff. This led to quite a few instances where I’d get into an argument with my mom and she would hit me or threaten to hit me. I remember one time I refused to get off my couch because I wanted to know why they were wanting me off and they ended up physically dragging me off the bed and hitting me. Another bed time, I was making my bed (which was rare for me to manage to get myself to do) but my dad stepped on my pillow with his shoes after coming inside and I got upset because it got stepped on and was probably dirty now but kept my upsetness to stomping. But then I got into an argument with my mom (and hissed at my dad) and it escalated until she hit me (apparently out of disappointment). Also she took away most of my bedding, and then after that on a day we went to the store (so I was gone all day) and she made a comment about me not bothering to do my bed, despite the fact I wasn’t even home to do it, the last time I attempted she hit me, and I barely had much of a bed to make (two pillows, one blanket, and my stuffie)

I also remember one time my dog tried to protect me and she threatened to get rid of my dog. As well as a time when she told me I could leave (with what money or place to go? I was literally in a city I’d barely seen because we moved there to be in an rv park, I had no job, no family or friends nearby to go to). I also came out as nonbinary (I’m a trans man now) and they were pretty transphobic at first, though my mom eventually educated herself and isn’t anymore.

And one time I got worried about a mask I was wearing during covid era being dirty and my mom telling me I should’ve stayed home (also they hated the mask mandated and I’m pretty sure at least mentally rolled their eyes when I chose to wear my mask even when they didn’t whenever it wasn’t mandated). There was also a time I spoke a bit too fast (I have a habit of fast talking sometimes) and my dad said I will not speak that way in his presence and I think also threatened to spank me.

Nowadays the worst that’s happened is my mom yelled at me for asking too many times whether the door was locked or not (it was broken and I couldn’t understand if it was locked locked or just in the locked position), my dad spends most of the day outside in our truck and every time I attempt to talk with him it usually ends up not good. I tried to show him music, he ended up playing his nearly an hour long of music in the middle of the ONE song I attempted to show him (never finished my song to this day), tried to talk about him not using my pronouns and it ended with him going off about politics and saying a few slurs and me needing to wipe myself clean because our shower isn’t available and I smelt like smoke. Tried to talk about him using his phone at the theaters because I wanted to take him with me and my mom to see a movie and it ended with me leaving him behind so that we could actually enjoy the movie. Tried to show him (very cute but a few crop tops) clothes I wanted to get and ended with him talking about being a peeping Tom as a teen and me feeling like my clothes were sexualed and uncomfortable in my own skin.

Also recently my brother poked my leg to get my attention and then after I told him not to (because he’d just come in from outside and my OCD has been horrible recently so i was a little convinced his touch was contaminated and was trying really hard to not get up and douse the spot in antiseptic) he did it again and I ended up hitting him with my tablet (I will admit I already attempted once before then, and he later said it didn’t even hurt when I managed to hit him) and then he used his fists on me and I ended up curled up on my bed screaming and crying because it hurt (and he bent my glasses). When my mom woke up and came over to see what was happening I curled up again and asked her not to hit me (because one time years ago me and my brother got into a bit of a physical scuffle and she hit me when she woke up and came to see what happened). My arm still hurts, but I’m thankful I covered my head because otherwise I’m worried I would’ve gotten a concussion or something. I’m pretty sure I was 100% definitely in the wrong and the abusive one in this situation here. It was really weird because afterwards I didn’t want to be touched (not even virtually) and then when I wanted to be touched again (the only option was virtually by a friend) it made me anxious and unsure.

When I bring it all up to my mom, she says she did her best and made mistakes, but didn’t abuse me. She said she’s seen what real abuse is and I would’ve left. Also when she found out I told a friend about things, and my friend said it wasn’t good, she said I was choosing to make them look bad. Also anytime I bring up issues about my dad (like him feeling like a stranger), she says he’s always been this way (he’s schizotypal) or that I must’ve forgotten when he was involved (which no duh, I barely remember my childhood)

It was abuse. I am so sorry. This sounds absolutely awful. The amount of neglect and violence you were enduring, and how scared you were of it.

Your mother's response is the exact response of abusive parents. My parents also told me that 'they know what real abuse is', and that I'm 'making them look bad if I ever say anything to anyone'. And the way she defends your father, it's all just excuses, you are right to be upset and to point it out.

You were dealing with so much, right from the start, so many struggles to go through, and with all this you were isolated, in a strange place with nowhere else to go. All your issues have been either completely neglected or made worse by your closest family members, and the violence you describe is devastating.

Nobody should have ever hit you. A child who is overwhelmed with sensory issues, OCD, and struggles with depression and ADHD, is not a menace. Adults can deal with children who get aggressive without violence, it's not hard to disarm a child or to get distance, they're literally smaller and weaker and not an actual threat. There is never any need to completely control them or to threaten violence. It sounds like the way they did it was so devastating for you, you ended up absolutely terrified of when they would hit you again. You lived with that fear all along and when your brother hit you so bad that he bent your glasses and hurt you so much, your first thought was fear that your mother would hit you again too.

You were in your house, surrounded by your closest family members, and you were terrified out of your mind of what they were going to do to you. You should have been in the safest place in the world. You should have been loved, cared and safe there. There was no more terrifying place for you than that rv.

You couldn't have left either, your mother knows that.

All of them should have made sure to accommodate your ocd and to not make it worse. They should have helped you manage all of the issues, and be mindful of your depression. Nobody should have even thought of hitting you, threatening you or acting like your pain doesn't matter. I'm so sorry that you've been so alone in this. It is awful what you've been put through.

I hope things get better, and that you get more kindness, gentleness and compassion in your life. You deserve to live comfortably, with no fear or shame. You've done nothing to deserve any of that.

Also I'm astounded they managed to completely neglect your right to education! I don't know where you live but it sounds illegal, you had the right to be completely educated, regardless of disability or issues, you still have the right to it, and if you can, I hope you will pursue it, because it's never too late to find out basic information, and it will help you navigate the world. I don't know what the procedure is to pursue education after this kind of neglect but I know there has to be a way. If anyone knows more about this, please write it in the replies or comments.

[sub-at-omicsteminist]

Why are you atheist??

I’ve been staring at this ask for a while now since it’s such an odd thing to just ask and I was trying to figure out when I’ve ever mentioned religion so I can answer in response to what they’ve seen but I don’t know when I’ve mentioned it.

I’ve never been a person of faith, I remember in year 2 (6/7 years of age) I was at a school Mass and I realised everyone else around me believed what was being said whereas I thought what was happening was just another story. I’ve always took religious teachings as stories to teach morals and guidance but I never took them literally.

I used to attended a Greek Orthodox church on Sundays and I’m christened Greek Orthodox and I didn’t mind it because the priest was a lovely person. He would say things like Science is the pursuit of understanding Gods creation and he would talk about how important education is. But the thing that stood out to me was he once said being trans isn’t a sin, it’s the journey God planned for that Individual. So when I was younger I wasn’t aware of the more homophobic and transphobic sides of religion.

It wasn’t until I started attending the Catholic secondary that I realised that some people used religion to back up ideas of hate and I became very anti Christian and stopped attending church because as a young Queer kid the bullying and being told I’m going to hell all the time really got to me.

My mum also became very unwell, she has a chronic illness amongst many other disabilities so I also thought if there is a God he doesn’t care because why would he make a child watch there mother slowly die and loose her mind and become abusive.

I loved talking to my friends about their religions though, I’ve always been fascinated with beliefs and faith because I’ve never had any. I partook in Ramadan one year to support my friend who was finding it hard and their family invited me to Iftar and I really respected how important their faith must be for them to do this because it was very difficult. Another experience I won’t forget was watching my friends mum create a Rangoli because she put so much care and attention into it and it is still one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen because of that care that went into it.

But it wasn’t until I was 17 I started recognising not all religious people are oppressive, some people use it for oppression but if you take people individually who believe in it that’s not a bad thing.

But there are still things I don’t like, for an example at my secondary we were put into religious houses and mine was house Vanier, turns out that guy was an awful person. His name is Jean Vanier if anyone wants to look him up but it’s just disgusting. Also the priest at the Catholic Church closest to where I live was found out to be preying on children, I have no idea what happened to him in the end but it was a big deal in my town. I also live near some Jehovah’s witnesses who for a month straight harassed me after pride because I assume they saw me coming home with pride face paint and stickers on and I had leaflets about sinning coming through the letter box constantly, and even now they still bang loudly on my door to preach when I’ve explained me, my mum and dad all have diagnosed ptsd and find it distressing. My RE teacher also told our class how he pressured his friend who was SA’d into keeping her baby and he was so proud of himself and it made me feel sick, he did loose his job because he told a student they’ll die and go to hell if they take the pill even though they were taking it for medical reasons.

That’s the part of religion I hate, it’s those individuals I hate. I don’t hate religion or people who practice religion but I hate the fact those things happened.

One of the kindest adults in my life was the school Chaplin, she told me she prayed everyday for my mum to get better and she prayed for me during my exams. I spent a lot of time in the chapel because it was quiet when I was having panic attacks and she used to just sit with me and talk me through them.

I’ve lost track of what I’ve written but

I’m not anti religion. Me not being a religious person isn’t anti religion. I’m anti people using religion as an excuse to be horrible to others.

I’ve just never had any sort of beliefs, in my mind everything is just a coincidence. I don’t believe in an after life, ghosts, superstitions or anything like that either. But that’s who I am and I don’t think that should offend anyone. But I also know I could be wrong and I can’t tell anyone their religion is wrong or right because I simply don’t know that.

I think I prefer the term agnostic (a person who believes that nothing is known or can be known of the existence or nature of God) over atheist because it’s as simple as I don’t know but I don’t think anyone is wrong for having faith.

But also I want to add I’m a white person talking about religion and my experience, all over the world people have different experiences so it doesn’t actually matter what I say. I’m just answering an ask and if you ever want to talk to me about religion I’m always happy to.

[chemacetree]

A letter from a queer daughter to her mom

I love you

I know you love me

You held me in your arms tight, before they rushed me off to the NICU, without even a name picked out for me yet. You were so sick after I was born, and so was Dad, and so was I. What a trio were we! 

And yet, after all the APGAR score scares and the feeding worries and the bouts of preeclampsia and flu, we made it. Your little daughter, your first child and only little girl, named after both of your grandmothers. Here I am, all grown up, and queer. 

Dear Mom, I know you don’t get why queer people are queer, or choose to be out, and marry, and transition, and everything else queer people do. It’s not something you’re really meant to get. It’s not about you. But I know that’s not a satisfactory answer. It wasn’t for me for a long time. I know you don’t know all the right words to say, or the right pronouns to use, or the right phrases to stick to. I get it. I wish I could make it easier for you to keep track of everything; heaven knows how much has changed since you were born. 

You didn’t understand why I felt like I was running out of grace, or having to tiptoe between being queer and being your daughter. You promised that you’d love me and treat me well no matter what, and I believe you. I promise that I know you love me. 

I don’t know if you’d love my best friends, if you knew. I don’t know you’d take me seriously if I told you that the “boy” who wanted to date me in high school was actually a girl, or if you’d write her off as being too mentally ill to really know. I don’t know if you’d be excited for me to visit my internet friends if you knew they were getting married, as two non-binary people, instead of moving to a new country. It feels like every queer person you can think of has some extenuating circumstance or excuse to make you wonder if they’re really queer, or just traumatized, which doesn’t really comfort your daughter, diagnosed autistic and wondering if you blame my sexuality on my disability. Not, to be fair, that you’ve said anything to that effect. 

There is a whole part of my life that I just cannot share with you. How am I supposed to tell the person who spent an hour raging about trans people “forcing new grammar on people” that I’m happiest in my own body when I look visibly queer? That I want to be seen, not just as a girl, but a queer girl? That, if you didn’t FaceTime every week, I’d hang a pride flag in my room next to my crucifix and rosary? 

I dyed my hair and bought “unprofessional” skirts and got a button up with whales on it. I started doing my hair more and putting in hairbows and dressing up for no reason. I put pins with colorful beads on my lanyard. You see the clothes and the hair bows and the shoes and think “finally, she’s taking an interest in her clothing after twenty years”. I see the way my rainbow-pin-wearing classmates clock me and drop the tension in their shoulders. 

You have told me since I was little that God blessed me with a big heart. For a while, I wrestled with that, because I was naïve and gullible and too emotional for everything. It’s hard to make peace with, some days, that trusting people wholeheartedly sometimes means being led astray or hurt. But you encouraged me to surround myself with good Christian people, people with kindness and compassion, people who loved openly and gave generously without counting the cost. I have found them! I’ve found the people I want to grow up to become, people who love openly and warmly and reflect God’s love to others. And they are very often queer.

It keeps ending up that way, funnily enough. The people who seem to most embody God’s love keep ending up queer, or very supportive of queer people. And I think I understand why; the longer I held vinegar in my mouth, dripping hatred and condescension for queer people, the harder it became to love without some measure of distrust and fear, because what if they were gay? Or trans? Or something else I didn’t understand? I spent so long not knowing my own sexuality because I flatly refused to acknowledge it, even when my friends point-blank asked. I spent even longer terrified of how you reacted when I told you. My brother outed me. I’m lucky I’m the palatable flavor of queer for you, so you could encourage me to be a nun instead of trying to keep me from kissing girls or wearing boy’s clothes. 

It doesn’t matter if you don’t know what to do all the time. It matters that you care. It matters that you try. Queer people are not your enemy. They’re my people. Not some nebulous “them” with an agenda; but my community, my friends, and me. What you say about the most baffling and unpalatable queer person you can think of, in the privacy of your car ride home, you say about the comprehensible, palatable queer daughter in that car. 

I want to be able to tell you about my friends, my classmates, even my favorite DND podcasts. I want to be able to tell you about how cis people can get gender euphoria after all, and that when I looked in the mirror that first time with my blue hair and my new skirt, I got it. I want to be able to tell you that I’m finally going to participate in a wedding as the maid of honor, and not just the flower girl.

I wish I could rejoice with you and show you the Side A churches in our city, and have you come to Mass with me there one time. One day, when we’re both older, I hope we still can. There is so much joy to be had in being an openly queer child of God. 

Please come home with me. I want you in my life.

Sincerely, 

Your queer daughter, who loves you very much

[hazardworld]

The Mako Mermaids AU you didn’t know you needed

Lucas, Dustin, and Max stay over at Steve’s house after Dustin’s sweet 16. Shenanigans ensue. Featuring trans Dustin, tall Lucas, and disabled Max (because chronic pain is a valid disability!!!!)

This is like part 1 of 2 or maybe more i dunno but 2 is like 90% done I just gotta turn max into a mermaid

and yes for my fellow moon people in 1986 there was actually a full moon on my fanon bday for dustin

——

Steve had told them to not destroy his house.

Steve had told them to be good.

See, when had the three of them ever been good unsupervised?

Also, Dustin had been told there was a full moon on his Sweet 16. Steve had to understand them sneaking out a window to go see it! Besides, Lucas had his pocket knife, and Dustin had his radio, so if anything happened, they were protected!

And, it wasn’t even his idea to go in the first place. They had been watching Teen Wolf, and Dustin had mentioned it was a full moon that night, and then Max had insisted they go out and look at it.

"The next time one of them comes on your birthday is in like, 19 years! 19 years, Dustin!"

So yeah, here they were, hoisting themselves through the downstairs bathroom window, and outside to see Dustin’s full moon.

"I don’t…see anything." Dustin sighed, all this work for nothing. He could see some bits of bright light sneaking through the trees, but that was it, if anything. Max huffed, right before they both winced at the loud thud that was Lucas falling from the windowsill.

Tall people, seriously.

“Sorry, sorry. Didn’t realize my legs were too short to reach the ground,” Yeah, Max did, and Dustin definitely did. Lucas brushed off dirt from his sweatpants, giving a great big grin.

“Alright doofus.” Dustin flicked his nose, making him blink, and Max chuckled at his confusion.

“Are we all comfy going in the woods? I know it’s not any of our favorite places,” the two boys nodded in response, so Max continued. “Our best shot of seeing that moon is trying to find some sort of clearing, and by my bet,” she shined her flashlight to a patch behind the pool, “that’ll take us there,”

The place she highlighted was some sort of tan pathway Dustin had seen before, but never paid much mind to. Not only was it into the dark woods, but Steve had said there wasn’t much back there, only a small well, and Dustin believed him. Wells kinda sucked.

Guess he was gonna see the well today, wasn’t he.

“That’s Steve’s emergency well, right? For whenever there’s a boil water notice,” Lucas completed his thoughts, and Dustin nodded.

“Yeah. I hate well water, but at least there’ll be somewhat of a clearing there.” The other two nodded, and the trio stalked off to the path, all guided by Max’s light.

“Wait, so well water still exists?” Lucas asked and Max and Dustin turned to him from either side.

“It does when you’re poor.” Max deadpanned. Lucas sighed slightly.

“Shit, sorry, shouldn’t’ve assumed,” Dustin giggled.

“Yeah, dude. Poorer neighborhoods aren’t on city water, so me and Max and the Byers-Hoppers have shitty well water instead. Most of us keep our school water bottles at Steve’s so we don’t have to drink it.” Lucas nodded, ever studious, taking in the information like a good financially-privileged child. (Mike wouldn’t have the gall)

"Changing the subject, how mad do you think Steve’s gonna be that we’re out at…12:34 am on a school night?" Max checked her watch, and Lucas groaned.

"Shit, I’m gonna be dead at basketball tomorrow night,"

"Tonight," Dustin and Max corrected in tandem, and Lucas groaned again.

"You guys are the worst," Lucas fake complained, rolling his head back momentarily. "Why am I friends with either of you?"

"Collective trauma," Max supplied instantaneously, "And the fact that the last edition of Hawkins Hellspawns kinda spilt the party because of that trauma,"

She wasn’t entirely wrong. While they were all still very compatible together, it became pretty evident pretty quickly that both team Hawkins and team Cali were forged in their own trauma bonds. It wasn’t like they couldn’t tell the other three what had gone down, but it was a lot harder for Dustin to tell Mike and Will the inside jokes and nuances that they weren’t there for, and probably vice versa.

So yeah. There was a lot of Dustin-Lucas-Max(-Erica) and a lot of Mike-Will-El.

It didn’t really help Dustin and Max thought of themselves as twins, just like Will and El.

"Yeah, yeah," Lucas waved it off with a small smile. Obviously his words had little mal intent.

A silence.

"How much longer 'till we reach the well? Think is getting pretty long." Lucas whispered, just loud enough for the two of them to hear.

"Hmm, I’d say the well’s right…there?" Max pointed the light to a clearing slightly far ahead. It wasn’t a well, but a little pool of water. Dustin could see some slight reflective glimmers from where he was walking, even.

"That’s not a well. Is that a well?" Lucas asked, quickly turning to the other two in confusion.

"No, but it could lead to one," Dustin answered, thinking, "The water source could be above ground, but that’s a little stupid, I dunno." Lucas and Max nodded in tandem.

"Steve could get all sorts of bad shit from it. Who knows what animals have been in there?" The three arrived at the water’s edge. It was a little pool, about the size of a hot tub, with large, glittering red and yellow stones lining the edges and the insides. Dustin couldn’t see any sort of pipe or tube leading to a well, not was there a path leading anywhere else where the well could be.

Huh.

Dustin looked up, seeing the moon just peeking from over the trees. Did it look bigger here, or was that just him?

"Guys, the water’s warm! Like warm-warm!" Lucas splashed his hand around, dragging both Max and Dustin’s attention to him, and back to the pool. Lucas started slipping off his shoes.

"Lucas, what are you doing?" Max yelped, quickly trying to stop him.

"Jumping in. The water’s really nice, guys. I’m not wasting a good outside swim in mid-November!" Dustin rolled his eyes

"It’s not gonna be a swim, dipshit! It’s the size of a hot tub!"

"Also: animal pee! And shit! Animal shit, Lucas!" Lucas shrugged and slipped himself in from sitting on the side. Immediately, he went under, before popping right back up to panicked faces.

"Shit, deeper than ya think. Come on in, guys!" Dustin looked between Lucas, begging him to join, and Max, begging him to value his safety.

Sweet 16s were supposed to be big milestone birthdays, right?

"Eh, fuck it." Dustin kicked off his converse, setting it to the side with his ball cap, and slipped in. Thankfully, Lucas caught him before he could sink to the bottom, and Dustin anchored himself onto one of the overhanding ledges.

"Dustin, what the fuck?? You were supposed to back me up!" He shrugged.

"It’s actually pretty nice Max, you just gotta hold onto a ledge. S’not made for short people," Dustin winked, smirking, and Lucas laughed.

Max huffed, rolling her eyes, before she slipped off her own shoes, setting those and her glasses together near Dustin’s stuff.

"Fine, but if I get tired, one of you is holding me." Max woke up from her coma about a month after her bones healed, with severe vision loss and shitty chronic pain. It wasn’t a rare occurrence to see her in a wheelchair or with arm crutches nowadays. It was one of the reasons she stayed at the Henderson house now, since they could bunk Dustin’s bed, and their house was almost completely one story.

"Deal. I’ll even catch you as you get in," Lucas grinned, ever-chivalrous. Max rolled her eyes, but let him nonetheless.

"Shit, this is—actually pretty warm, damn." She tied her hair up while Lucas and Dustin held her. "Fuck, my sports bra’s gonna be soaked." A beat went by before Dustin and Max made eye contact.

"Shit my—"

"Shit your—" Dustin took a breath while Lucas looked utterly confused.

"It’s fine, it’s fine. I can…I have an old one I can use while this one dries," He was really reassuring himself more than her at this point. He needed to make more in his actual size.

"Is everything ok?" Lucas really cared, he really did, but now wasn’t the time. Dustin nodded, and Max responded for him.

"Don’t worry about it. Not your thing to worry about." Lucas frowned, but nodded. He’d probably find out later, if he had anything to say about it.

Dustin was fine telling him, now was just not the time.

"Is it just me, or does the moon look way bigger than it should be from here?" Dustin asked, looking up and changing the subject. The moon had now moved to where the edge was just brushing the center of the clearing’s circle, and it looked as if it would fill the circle almost completely.

"Yeah, it’s pretty weird. I’m positive it’s supposed to be smaller than that." Lucas commented.

"I can’t see shit without my glasses but that’s pretty obvious," Max chided, "and pretty abnormal,"

"Is it related to anything Upside-Down-y?" Dustin aired his thoughts. It was a serious question, whether something in this clearing or this pool or the moon had something demented in it. Were they maybe having Vecna visions? No. No they couldn’t be, right?

"Don’t think so. Doesn’t give me that weird sinking feeling," Max turned her head to the side, thinking. "Gives me a weird sinking feeling, but not the Upside Down one, though."

Well that was ominous.

Dustin felt some sort of ripple from the water, and looked around him. Lucas and Max must’ve gotten ones too, since they were also looking.

Suddenly, Dustin felt more ripples on ripples, before the water burst into bubbles.

"So it is a hot tub?" Lucas asked. "Pretty weird for a hot tub. Did someone turn it on for us?" Max shook her head quickly, her lips pulled tight.

"S’not good…my veins feel all achey…" Lucas drew her close, and Dustin swam over to comfort from her other side.

Dustin would be lying if he said his body didn’t feel achey, either. It was a dull sort of ache, though, nothing dehabilitating like Max’s. She was more sensitive to pain now though, which made sense.

Dustin caught a glimpse of the moon, and saw it was slowly reaching the center position. It had to have something to do with all this, right? It had to.

Dustin looked away before the glitter bits started, otherwise he would’ve seen them only go while the moon was right in the center. Instead, he and Lucas watched as the glowing green orbs surrounded and momentarily stuck to their bodies, before stopping.

When Max could swim on her own again, the moon had long since left the clearing’s circle altogether.

Lucas carried her back to the house while Dustin carried their things. It was hard not to freeze before they got warm towels and tucked themselves into bed, hours before needing to wake up for school.

From what they could tell, hopefully they hadn’t woken Steve.

[burning-bubble-tea]

I follow this one person who gives an advice column mostly concerning how to navigate different social situations (oh look that’s probably a sign for something…. Anyway) and often times the discussion of friendship breakups are mentioned.

They’re usually described as dramatic and painful but the friendship breakups I’ve had were quiet and unexpected. And frankly is mainly because it’s a drift away and I there wasn’t a confrontation.

Like it makes sense, I’m not a confrontational person and I do believe that those friendships had a place in my life so happily, I don’t regret the time and money I spent on that relationship because relationships are not purely transactional.

One person i essentially made friends with because she provided me with a service and we became friends through that. I’ll always remember our time together fondly it’s just unfortunate that she’s a deeply hurt person and she was starting to lash out at me in ways that showed how incompatible we were.

The other friendship breakup was weird because it wasn’t really me that went through the breakup. Frankly I wouldn’t be surprised if this person still thought we were friends, just that I was still in a social circle they burned a bridge.

They still like my Instagram posts but they never said anything to me. It kinda goes to show how I don’t really matter to them in their current stage of life which is fine.

Our friendship did reach an awkward business phase where every interaction felt increasingly like distant small talk when we used to be able to talk to each other so easily.

I do miss those times but they also sort of developed into a person that was incompatible with who I became. The proceeding years before they burnt the bridge with the friend group they were really bothering me. It was hard to put a finger on as it was a multitude of actions that made me feel certain ways. It was sort of like a bunch of tiny cuts that slowly became infected.

I smiled and stayed silent as I thought the behaviour that was making me upset and annoying me was just me being unsympathetic and hateful and I do regret all the time I felt feeling guilty for having feelings. I never lashed out which wouldn’t have been a valid response but I didn’t allow myself to fully feel annoyed, upset and frustrated and so most of those emotions festered.

When they burnt the bridge they did the breakup with someone else and I was just not even talked to. After spending half a decade being their close friend, all it took was two years of them becoming close to someone else to completely forget me. Which doesn’t exactly feel great.

I’m overall happy I didn’t receive a burnt bridge treatment. But also it would’ve been nice for the time that we spent together to be acknowledged one way or another.

Like I know it would’ve been more hurtful to be treated that way but I guess the grass is greener on the other side.

It’s just weird how quickly I was discarded. We were still in the same friend group, it wasn’t like we drifted away. We primarily drifted away in the sense that we didn’t call each other all the time. But it felt like all of a sudden I wasn’t invited anymore. And being a least favourite friend of most every friend group I was in in my childhood, it didn’t exactly bubble up pleasant memories.

I had such a hard time having a close friend in my childhood. I was close with my neighbourhood friends but they went to different schools as me and we naturally drifted apart once we stopped playing outside as often.

One girl I got close too got ill and became homeschooled.

My closest friend from preschool moved away at the end of kindergarten. (Also her mother was very mean to mine).

Whenever I didn’t have a close friend I’d play tag with the boys but being a child that was very queer and trans but not knowing, I knew it felt very weird.

I got along with the neurodivergent boys but while we bonded, as they started feeling more comfortable in their masculinity, I become less comfortable around them.

I remember acting in a way that was weird and felt irregular and wrong for me just to fit in with the other boys.

But they stopped playing tag and started playing soccer. Grounders and pretend became childish and I definitely was not maturing as fast as them. (Though in high school I definitely matured way faster then hahahahaha)

I did have one “best friend” in elementary school but even then that only lasted a few years before I was tossed aside because I struggled to get along with others. Also he was and still is a jerk.

I was the weird lonely kid who cried a lot in elementary school. A lot of the girls liked me because I was nice (and basically one of the girls cause y’know trans kid who didn’t know they were queer and could make use of the girlies and the gays alliance) but I wasn’t a girl enough to be in the girl friend group (curse the binary gender roles of 2010’s elementary school).

But my parents always said high school would be a fresh start for me and I’d do much better there and they were fully right.

It also helped that at that point I was identifying as a gay boy (who was very much in denial and ignorance over my transness) so I was able to make connections with other queer weirdos.

That’s when I became close with the person. Five years we spend being super close. But once again they moved on and I felt sorta left behind. They were making new friends (who I was friends with as well) but they all became closer as I was left out. Primarily because I was found annoying which okay fair. I’m still annoying, I just find I don’t care too much about it anymore.

Also this is the part where I’d talk about my current close friendship I met around this time but this isn’t time for me to be sappy about that shit I’m unpacking trauma through a Tumblr post and feeling sorry for myself, no room to discuss the immense positive impact they’ve had on my life ew gross.

Anyways that was a really long tangent.

I just always feel like I’m being left behind sometimes. It’s kinda nice now. Being older, there’s so many different avenues to go to and so many people are healing their inner child and it isn’t seen as bad to be a bit immature as an adult. It’s whimsy or whatever rather than cringe. Obviously depending hahahah, if you’re still being mean and rude in ways children are that’s pretty cringe. But being sad or happy in the way children are, well that’s not too bad is it. It’s very healing.

I dunno, I’ve mostly come to peace to my terrible time in elementary school. And my bad relationships in high school (though overall high school was way better for me and that’s primarily due to how awful elementary school was)

Either way now the little awkward annoying queer kid is out at the club with the other queerdos. Drinking water and standing at the edge of the mosh pit having a great time.

[chronicallycouchbound]

Unlucky: Protective Factors and Homelessness

Becoming homeless isn’t based in luck. The vast majority of homeless people aren’t just in unlucky circumstances. Most unhoused people I’ve interacted with are multi-marginalized, and have significant risk factors for becoming unhoused and lack supports to maintain secure housing.

The average American might be one significant event away from homelessness, sure. But the average American will also have better access to not only supportive services, but natural supports that can prevent or alleviate the toll that emergencies can have on an individual’s housing specifically. Thus, the average American won’t become unhoused.

In contrast, the average unhoused person (or person in precarious housing) doesn’t have natural supports who can provide relief for them. The average unhoused person is a part of several marginalized communities who have been systematically deprived of resources, and aren’t given true support by what few services exist to help their housing status.

My current housing is precarious. Housing my whole life always has been. My first times being homeless were before I have memories. But even as a young child, I had a solid understanding of the fact that if our house wasn’t spotless on inspection days, we would be unhoused again. It was such a routine part of life for me and my family, I didn’t even think about how the families of some of my peers were landlords.

When I first started sleeping outside, before I graduated elementary school, I met other unhoused people who all had varying risk factors. I didn’t know it at the time, but statistically, it was unlikely I would have never ended up homeless.

My ACE score is 10/10. My protective factors were 0/4. Beyond that, I was (and am) a part of other marginalized communities that I was discriminated against on the basis of, without even knowing I was a part of those groups like being queer, trans, and disabled.

While living on the streets, in shelters, couch surfing and even while doing community organizing, I watched as dozens of people became housed long before I did. The biggest running theme? Those who had natural supports, those who held privilege in our society, those were the people who became housed fastest and longest. They were often only unhoused once in their life.

But people like me, a part of many marginalized groups, no safe natural supports around, discriminated by supportive services, are the people who end up unhoused for most of our lives, and when we do gain housing, it can be taken due to events significantly smaller than the average American would normally see a housing related emergency.

For example, if I’m behind on rent, as someone who is 100% reliant on government aid programs with zero income and no family financial support, if I can’t find an emergency assistance program in time, I will lose my housing. Not only that— but my lease being in subsidized low income ADA housing and using governmental vouchers for rent means that if I’m formally evicted, it is a criminal offense. I have friends who have gone to prison for what should be minor lease violations that led to evictions, and they no longer qualify for any assistive programs for a predefined period of time (usually 5 years). Now they have a record, and have no governmental supports on top of already not having natural supports.

The housing we have is precarious, forever teetering on the edge of loss. We are so close to the safety of secure housing, it’s palpable, while being unattainable.

There are many genuine factors of luck that play into housing status, but make no mistake: Homeless/unhoused people are systemically disenfranchised.

If you’ve never been unhoused, if you’re currently in stable housing, there is a very strong likelihood that it’s because of your protective factors like natural supports and privileges in our society. You should acknowledge the reality of this, and not only name your supports as why you’re not homeless (not just luck), but also be leveraging your resources to support our community.

I created a resource for this if anyone is interested in how they can stand in solidarity with their unhoused neighbors.

More information about ACE & PCE scores can be found here.

[Pictured: an elementary school project from around 2006, from my sister. Child-like handwriting says: “My inspection is coming up. If your house is dirty you will get kicked out. If your house is clean you will get to stay in your house.” A small drawing of our house at the time is below it.]

[writeheallivepage]

AM I NORMAL OR I NEED HELP?

Okay. Where do I begin. So Hi. I’m nobody. I am 28, female and no boyfriend since birth. I had this first love of mine that I still have feelings until now. He’s gay. Yes. But he was so cute in his grey sweater when we first met at my first job and I thought he was straight. We became friends and after 5 years (I left my first job after 9 months and that was year 2016) we’re still in touch as “friends”. So one day I was so frustrated I told him I like him. Boom! Turns out, he liked me too back when we were still together as workmates. Yes! He LIKED me! Like he told me I was his crush too!!! LIKED AND WAS. Yeah in the past! So I’m like 5 years late! And he has moved on! I didn’t know that back when I was dying to hold him that he liked me too! I call him my TOTGA. So cut to present, 2023 and I am still fucking single. I have this time of the month where I would get horny and such, I used to think of him but it hurts me so I muted his IG. I am on Twitter and I created this alter account to feed my lustful days. So most alter accounts that I encounter are gay people. You know, m2m. I enjoyed watching it and I would sometimes touch myself watching those videos. I love straight videos too. But what really turns me on is when a straight/lesbian girl fucks with a transwoman. I love it! I watched that movie, The Danish Girl and it satisfies me to watch the couple. I am also following this lesbian couple on IG (trans and lesbian woman) and they’re just perfect. So the point is I am sometimes confuse with my sexuality or what. I know that labels doesn’t really matter but it scares me to not know myself. Am I straight or lesbian? I am not into girls but I am into transwoman and straight / bi guys. I am even open to marrying a transwoman as long as he has still a dick. LMAO. But I think even if it is gone already I would still love her because I will always see her as my man. What am I? I also want to stop this touching myself thing but I can’t. I feel like this is an addiction and I sometimes feel depressed because I can’t control myself. Is this normal or I am just overreacting? 🥲

[casbooks]

Books of 2023

Book 12 of 2023

Title: Redcatcher MP: 199th Light Infantry Brigade Authors: Mickey M. Bright & S. Fay Risner ISBN: 9781490457482 Tags: FSB Alice (Vietnam War), Interrogator, KOR ROK Republic of Korea Army, Military Intelligence, Military Police, US Ambassador Ellsworth Bunker, US USA 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment, US USA 17th Cavalry Regiment, US USA United States Army, USA 199th Light Infantry Brigade, USA 199th Light Infantry Brigade - 152nd MP Platoon, USA 552nd MP Co., USA 90th Replacement Bn, VNM 1968 Tet Offensive (1968) (Vietnam War), VNM Bien Hoa, VNM Bien Hoa Airbase (Vietnam War), VNM Highway 1, VNM Long Binh, VNM RVN ARVN Army of the Republic of Vietnam, VNM RVN ARVN General Tran Van Minh, VNM RVN ARVN MP Quan Canh Military Police, VNM RVN Chieu Hoi Program/Force 66 - Luc Luong 66 (Vietnam War), VNM RVN Kit Carson Scouts (Vietnam War), VNM Saigon, VNM Tan Hemp, VNM Tu Do Street, VNM US USA 24th Evacuation Hospital - Long Binh (Vietnam War), VNM US USA II Field Force (1966-1971) (Vietnam War), VNM Vietnam War (1955-1975), VNM Xuan Loc Rating: 4 stars Subject: Books.Military.20th-21st Century.Asia.Vietnam War.US Army.Military Police

Description: Mickey put his heart and soul into his book about his three tours in the Vietnam War. He brings to life the men he served with and treasured as friends as well as the Vietnamese people he grew to know and respect. He describes everything he saw and felt about the country in vivid detail. That includes the horrors of war as well as the men's feverish efforts to block their worries and fears in their off duty hours. Mickey's humor comes through when he writes about being invited to supper at a Vietnamese Police Officer's house and finds he's eating dog meat. Or when he becomes really nervous on patrol alone and thinks he's going to confront VC in a village cemetery only to find he's face to face with the harmless village bum.

Men felt pressure and stress all the time. They didn't know where the enemy was. There wasn't a front lines or a safe area even on base. They could never fully relax. The horrors of this war led many soldiers into a fog of drugs just to cope. Smoking marijuana was as popular as smoking a cigarette. The young men were drafted during the hippy drug era. Many of them had tried drugs, marijuana and drinking alcoholic beverages in the states. In Vietnam, drugs were cheap and very accessible. Beer was cheap at the PX and kept under the bunks by the case. Most times, it was consumed warm. The camaraderie between the men in their off time led to addictions that had to be faced when they went home. For many, drugs became a way to sleep in a stupor without fear and nightmarish images of death haunting them. The years that Mickey Bright was in Vietnam, statics show that more men went to the hospital because of their addictions than those with wounds. At the time, his war stories wouldn't have been wise to write about in letters to his worried family. We see the standoffs as Mickey describes them and get a feel for what his duties were like as a military policeman. Often something about Vietnam reminded him of his family and home in Nevada, Missouri. It's only when he was midway through his third tour of duty that he felt he'd had enough of this strange land and war. With new men coming in all the time, he dwelt more on the friends he lost, and the ones that went back to the world that he missed. Then there were his memories of Lei, the pretty Vietnamese girl he loved. When she was killed during a fire fight in Saigon, Mickey didn't have a reason to stay. He was ready to come home.

Review: Let me first start out by saying the book has a good flow to it. It's engaging, it's an interesting subject, and it's not just a collection of short stories thrown together like many of these books are.

In fact, it reads more like a novel than a memoir, and the book is better for it.

The primary negative is that, like many other independently published books, it screams for an editor. There are constant errors in spelling, errors in formatting, repeated paragraphs, and the like that a good proofreader and copyeditor would fix - and it does effect the readability at times.

Having said that, Mickey was an MP REMF, and while most books about MP's involve a lot of fighting, a lot of throwing around authority, Mickey took a different tact. Serving 3 tours with the 199th and temporarily with the 11th ACR, you get a little action here and there, an occasional rocket, an occasional law enforcement issue, but mostly it details a lot of drug use, a lot of drinking, and a lot of boredom and trying to fill hours in between shifts. Normally that would make for a boring, tedious, and uninteresting book, but because of the cast of characters, and the prose, it's actually still worth a read.