#probably has something to do with the fact that I was rarely misgendered and almost never deadnamed on the job

[crowscadence]

It’ll never not be funny that my anti dysphoria clothes are literally just my old work t-shirts

[lilithdahobbit]

Two Lives P4 (Adrian Chase/Vigilante Fic)

part 1  part 2  part 3  part 4(you’re here!)  part 5  part 6  part 7  part 8  part 9  part 10  part 11  part 12  part 13  part 14  part 15  part 16  part 17  part 18  part 19  part 20 part 21/22(end)

Authors Note:  Alright y'all we're to the first spicy scene....after they finish their date of course.

CW: misgendering (none from Adrian), catcalling, minor violence, and smut (if there is ever a time when I need to include a CW for something and I don't, call me out on it, I probably just forgot)

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For the next hour, you talk at length about what series was the best, along with who was the best captain. You both know you won't be able to persuade the other but it is nice playfully arguing in between bites. Your conversations get steadily more and more chaotic and disjointed for the next hour as you both get progressively more intoxicated. Finally your waiter, after serving you for 3 hours brings you your check in a not-so-subtle way to kick you out so they can finally close.

"Shit, sir I am so sorry we kept you open. I always swore to never be that person."

"It's alright ma'am."

"You can't call them that, they prefer 'boss'."

You snort and almost choke on your drink as you try to finish it. "Could you two please pay, we need to close."

Before you can swallow, Adrian hands over his card, and the waiter takes it to the register. You slam your glass down, "Hey! I was gonna pay for food."

"Too slow." He smiles smugly and crosses his arms.

You roll your eyes. "Rude."

"Oh I am so sorry I paid for your food." he says sarcastically.

"Sarcasm? To be blessed with the rare occasion of you using that is such an honor." You stand up and bow, snickering, almost falling over before Adrian gets up and catches your shoulders. You both lean on each other, equally discombobulated, and make your way to the register to finish up for the night.

You both giggle at each other's stumbled steps as you walk to Adrian's car. "Shit. I can't drive like this." Adrian remarks, defeat in his voice, as you reach his car. "I'll call you a ride." He says as he fumbles to get his phone from his pocket, swaying as he stands on his own.

You lean against his car for stability, "My place isn't that far, only a 20-minute walk..."

"You really think I'd make you walk home alone this late at night? You'll be dead in the gutter and then who would I have my first second date with?"

"Are you asking me on a second date?" You feel your cheeks get even warmer, and you are grateful they were already flushed by the alcohol and that he probably won't notice.

He looks up at you from his phone, which he hasn't even managed to get off of the home screen yet, "I guess I am."

"Absolutely yes. Definitely." You answer the question with partially slurred words despite the fact that he hasn't even asked.

He grins, "But first, I call you a ride."

"Adrian, again, my place is a short walk away..." You begin sauntering to him.

"No, I insist."

"I insist harder." You reach him and take his phone, turning it off.

"Oh, you meant we walk together."

You smile and nod placing the phone back in his hand, grabbing the other, and placing his arm over your shoulders. You beam up at him, "Onward we go."

About halfway to your destination, you both hear some men calling from the other side of the sidewalk. They say less than desirable statements about you both. You want to do nothing more than scare them shitless and beat them senseless then and there since you knew if you were alone they would do a lot more than shout from a distance. But you push those thoughts back and focus on Adrian, who has stopped in his tracks, clenching his jaw and fists. "Come on, Adrian they're not worth our time." You lightly pat his chest. He glances at you and he softens slightly.

You begin walking away when one of the men shouts to your backs, "Not man enough to protect your girl huh? She needs a real man to set her straight again!" You feel Adrian pull away from you and you follow him, protesting, as he stomps towards the group. "I think the faggot wants to fight us, boys!" They burst into laughter but immediately quieten when Adrian punches one of the four, knocking him to the ground.

You stop in your tracks as you watch Adrian just beat the shit out of all the men there, somehow dodging their counterattacks. "Jesus Christ." You say to yourself before snapping out of it and rushing to him. You reach for his shoulder, cautiously keeping your distance in case he believes you to be one of the men. "Adrian that's enough. We need to go."

He grabs the last man standing, the others are either unconscious or groaning and whining on the ground, and shoves him against the wall of the closest building. It was the man who shouted the words that triggered this whole thing.

"They're not a woman, dickhead." He growls through gritted teeth before dropping him and taking a few steps away, deeply breathing. You look at the bloodied man who stays standing before gently touching Adrian's hand.

"Come on." He nods and wraps his hand around your own, you can feel the blood on his hands smearing on your own as he does so.

"Yeah that's right, listen to your woman, fucking dog." The man spits through his bloodied mouth. You take a deep breath, let go of Adrian's hand, and promptly punch the man across the face and knee him in the groin. He falls to his knees and you uppercut him, properly knocking him out. Adrian stares at you for a moment, you can't tell if it is awe or fear but you prefer not knowing and simply getting home. You and Adrian, now with both alcohol and adrenaline running through your system, begin the final half of your trek to the apartment.

"That was fucking awesome, El." Adrian comments after a few minutes of silence.

"You already knew I could punch, you learned that from that time you thought it would be a great idea to sneak up on me at work."

"I still think you broke my nose that day."

"I did not, trust me, I was holding back, so I know I didn't break it."

"I know now that you were holding back."

"What about you? Mr. Nerdy Busboy, I never knew you were the type to fight."

"Only when I need to."

"Do you run into fights often or something? That was way too good for it to be a rare thing."

He rolls his head to look at you, "Only when I need to." He repeats himself.

You roll your eyes and squeeze his hand, the blood on both of your hands squelching quietly.

You now stand together in front of your door and turn to face Adrian, grabbing his other hand and lightly swinging his arms. "Well thank you, for the lovely date, and for beating up those assholes."

"Anything anytime... and right back at you." He looks at your hands interlocked and covered in dripping crimson.

You join in looking down, you can see his knuckles are pretty scraped up from the fight. "Why don't you come in? I can clean and patch up your hands for you."

"Oh, sure." He replies, almost surprised you offered despite you helping with ailments in the past, like the punch in the nose incident.

You unlock your door and pull him in, leading him to the couch, luckily the both of you are less drunk and disoriented than you were at the start of your walk. After thoroughly washing your own hands, you bring over a wet warm washcloth and your first aid kit. This is the first time you have had to use it on someone besides yourself, Vig, or Chris. You get on your knees in front of him, "Don't get any ideas pervert." you jested. You gently wipe his hands clean, all while you feel his eyes on you, watching every little thing you did. You apply the alcohol to his scraped knuckled and he winces audibly. You look up at him, "You and Vi-my friend, you both get hurt no problem but the moment you dab it with antiseptic you become big babies."

"Friend?" Adrian asks as you continue dabbing the wounds. "I thought you were some loner and I was your only friend. I took great pride in that."

You lightly slap his hand, making him wince again, "Shut up. I have friends, I just...don't mention them often."

"Are you close?"

"I suppose, at least from my perspective." You gently wrap his hands in gauze after applying some triple antibiotic. You stick it down with some medical tape and stand back up to put your stuff away.

Adrian gets back on his feet as you placed the box back in its cupboard. "I guess I better get a ride back to my place, pick up my car tomorrow." He regarded as he rubbed his bandaged knuckles.

You look at the clock, 11:00 pm. "It's late. You might as well just stay the night, I'll walk you to your car tomorrow." You suggest, strolling back to him.

You now stand in front of him, looking up at him, "You're so sweet, patching me up and offering a sleepover."

You chuckle dryly, "I'm not sweet, Adrian."

"How would I know?" He lightly places his hand on your neck, below your cheek, looks at your lips and you can feel your heart racing more with each second, "I haven't had a taste yet." He gives off an air of confidence but you can tell from his quickened breath that he is anxious.

You start to feel dizzy again, but not from the remaining alcohol in your system. The room spins around you as you stare into his yearning eyes. Your heart continues beating faster and faster before finally, "Fuck it." You grab his face with both hands and pull it to yours, your lips finally clashing.

Your lips part as he does the same and you can taste the daquiri on his lips. If you weren't sweet then he certainly was enough for the both of you. He moves his hand to the back of your head, lightly grabbing your hair as if to hold himself in place as his other hand glides and settles on the small of your back, pulling you closer. Your bodies come impossibly close. The only things keeping you apart at this point are the space between the atoms of your clothes. You can feel the warmth of his breath as it slows and becomes heavier.

Time seems to freeze around you as all you can focus on is how soft he feels against your mouth, the lingering smell of strawberries and alcohol on his breath, the sugary taste of his lips, and the sound of his heavy breaths. He had invaded every one of your senses and you can't get enough of it. Your arms now drape over his shoulders as you relish in the moment with him and your breathing begins to match his. He is the first to break the kiss, pulling away and putting his forehead against yours. His hands rest on your waist. You both stay in that position for a moment, mouths still open as if they haven't realized you were no longer kissing, breath still heavy, and bodies still glued together. You both needed some time to process what had just happened.

"I have wanted to do that for so long..." Adrian breaks the silence, a small grin forming as he speaks. He pulls away to look you in the eyes. "You have no idea how long I have wanted to kiss you like that."

Your lips curl up into a smile, "I think I have some idea." The sound of you both catching your breath practically echos in the small living room. After a moment of simply being entranced by each other's eyes, you speak lightly "I think maybe it's time for bed."

Adrian breaks out of his trance, "Yeah, sounds about right."

You turn to walk to your room and as you do so you hear his body collapse on the couch. You face him again, "What are you doing?"

"Well, it's your place so I thought I was sleeping on the couch like any other time I've stayed."

You exhale sharply and smile more, "I said 'bed', Adrian. I didn't say anything about sleeping." Your arm outstretchs, offering him your hand. As he grabs it you can swear your heart skips a beat, you can't believe what you were doing. As you guide him, your mind races with the same worries from before, but Chris's words 'Have fun.' remind you to do exactly that and to stop thinking about anything but the present.

You lead Adrian to sit on your bed and he kicks his shoes off. You kiss him again as you unzip his jacket and after he wrestles his arms out of it you toss it to the floor. You pull off his shirt to reveal his chest. He is far more ripped than you imagined, his clothes never did him any favors. He stands up and looks down at you as you watch his chest rise and fall with each breath. He puts his fingers underneath your chin and guides your gaze to his face again before he presses his lips against yours again and, without separating, you both make your way to the wall. As he pushes your back to the wall you part your lips, allowing his tongue to slip inside. You reach down for his jeans and undo the button before shoving them down his thighs. He pulls your shirt up, only pausing the kiss to get it over your head before he throws it, letting it join his clothes on the floor. Both his and your hands glide across each other's bare skin, feeling the heat radiating from your bodies, His bandaged hands rough against your skin despite his soft touch.

You are the one to move back from the kiss this time, breathing deeply as you rest your hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating hard, almost as fast and hard as your own. You push him back to the bed. This time he sits fully on the bed, instead of letting his legs lay off the side, giving you the ability to place yourself on top of him. You press your lips against his neck and you hear a soft "Fuck." escape his lips as you suck on his supple skin for a moment before pulling away and smiling at the red mark you left on him. Before you could continue he grabs the back of your neck and yanks you down as he lays down, placing his lips on your neck and mimicking your action, you can feel his glasses against your jaw and you know it is pressing into his face, after only a few seconds he stops and turns his head, "Shit, glasses." He removes his hand from your neck and you sit back up before gently pulling his glasses off his face and setting them on the small nightstand by your bed. He stares at your form for a moment, mouth partially open. "You are so beautiful..."

"Oh, now you say it. After I've taken your glasses off." You reply, though the comment makes your heart soar. You never knew how much you wanted him to say those words to you until this very moment.

He snickers before grabbing your waist and moving you off of him, making you switch places with him. A giggle escapes your lungs as he pushes you onto your back. He puts his hands underneath you and unhooks your bra before pulling it off. He attempts to finish the job of taking off his pants while sitting but fails. He gets off the bed and takes them off before placing himself back on top of you, careful to not put his full weight on you. You stare into each other's eyes for a moment before he breaks the tension, "So what do you have down there?"

You slowly blink and shake your head, chuckling. "You're seriously asking that?"

He half shrugs, "I mean I'd like to know so I can know what to expect. I figured there's no better time to ask than now."

You sigh before biting your lip. In a moment of impulsiveness, you shove your hand down the front of his boxer briefs, feeling his cock as it begins to get warmer from just your hand touching it. He tenses and you can feel him stop breathing for a moment. You bring your hand up slowly, feeling his trimmed hair below your fingertips before you pull your hand out and rest it on his hip. "Well, it's not what you've got, if that tells you anything."

His breaths get steadily heavier as he gazes at you laying there before he plants a kiss on your lips and gradually places one every few centimeters as he makes his way down your neck, your chest, and your stomach before finally coming to your still clothed legs. You look down at him as he looks back up at you, and you take in the sight of each other before he yanks your pants and underwear off together, tossing them away, he doesn't take his eyes off your body. They are full of hunger. Your heart races and your thighs part in anticipation. He begins kissing your thighs, making his way to your cunt. Every time he gets close he finds another spot on your thighs he has not brushed his lips across yet. He is teasing you and you know it.

Finally, you quietly whine, craving for him to get it over with and get to the main event. He looks up at your face and grins before gently placing his lips on your folds. You audibly breathe aloud, not quite moaning but that was enough to encourage him to go further. He begins prodding your slit with his tongue as if he is a shy kitten sipping at milk. He is getting a taste and preparing you both for more. He finally opens you up with his mouth and strokes his tongue across the crease of your cunt until he arrives at your clit. He gently sucks on it, forcing a moan to escape your lips as you grip his curly hair that sits between your thighs. He tilts his head slightly to go at it from a different angle, insistently poking at the throbbing nub. You writhe in pleasure, finding it harder and harder to hold back your moans. You can feel him smile against you and he kisses your pussy once more before pulling away, despite your whines and begs for him to return.

He places a soft kiss on your neck, leaving a wetness behind, though whether it be from you or his saliva you aren't sure. He strokes your face before placing his hand on your cheek. "You're so pretty when you beg." He says, voice full of care. He wanted you to know exactly what he thought, and what he thought is that you are the most ravishing sight he'd ever seen, even when you are sweaty and begging pitifully. With his other hand, he pushes down his boxers. You glance down at cock and back to his eyes. You grab the back of his head and pull him down for a kiss, tasting hints of yourself on his lips. As you kiss he brings himself down to you and you feel him pressing up against your slit. You want nothing more than him inside you, nothing else matters in this moment. He removes himself from the kiss, "I'm gonna put-"

"I know." You respond between breaths.

"Are you okay?" He checks in, brushing his fingertips across your jaw.

You nod, "Please..."

He appeases your request and thrusts into your cunt. You feel tingles throughout your whole body, blood rushing to every extremity. You both moan in unison as his cock is surrounded by your warmth. He massages your inner walls, rocking his hips back and forth as he sets a rhythm. His knuckles turn white as he holds to your bed frame."Fuck." He mutters, realizing he was getting close before you were. He had dreamed of this moment for so long, it wasn't taking much to please him. He arches his back over you and a few strands of his hair fall forward. You take in the view as he struggles to think of how to get you closer to your climax. He wouldn't forgive himself if he came before you. He eventually brings one hand to your breasts and begins fidgeting with your nipple, making you squirm beneath him.

You grip the sheet with one hand while the other lays on his back. "Adrian..." You breathe as you gaze up at him while he plunges in and out of you, steadily getting faster with each thrust. He moves his hand down to your clit and begins massaging it, trying his best to avoid brushing his bandage against your skin. You tense and whimper his name, "Adrian please..."

Those words are enough to nearly send him over the edge, "Fuck, I'm going to-"

You manage to release your grip on the sheets and bring your hand up to his face. "Cum for me." You are barely able to speak between gasps.

He grunts and grits his teeth, trying to hold back, he thrusts once more as he twiddles your clit, and that combination alone is enough and you grab his back with both hands and dig your nails in. Your body convulses as you tighten around him, pulling the orgasm out of him. He arches his back as you both cry out in ecstasy. You both begin panting as you come down from the peak and he holds you there for a moment, filling you up with his seed. Time freezes again and you admire each other's sweaty, rosy faces. You look into Adrian's eyes and see nothing but desire, adoration, and pure delight. It is all directed at you, all because of you. If someone were to shoot through the window, you'd both die happy. All you can hear is his breath mixing with yours, even the crickets were silent to you. After some time he pulls himself out of you and you twitch slightly from the aftershocks. He lays down next to you and you can't even bring yourself to worry about the mess on your sheets. That is tomorrow's problem.

Adrian scoots closer to you and you rest your head on his chest. His relaxed pecs were almost like pillows and you can hear his heartbeat slowly start to go back to its normal pace and his shallow breaths deepen. You trace your hands over his stomach. "Why the fuck did we wait so long to do that?" You remark after your breathing steadied.

"You tell me. I offered years ago but you said no." He answers.

You smile and look up at him, examining his face. You bring your hand up and brush your fingertips across his cheek and he smiles back at you. "I have no idea how I ever said no to your beautiful face."

"I know right? Me neither."

You scoff, "You were literally just inside of me after what I am sure was years of only jerking off to the thought of me and you are making jokes?"

"I'm not making jokes. I'm just agreeing with you." He grins. You can't even stay pretend upset at that goofy wide grin. You make sure he sees you rolling your eyes so dramatically your whole head moves before you lay your head back down on his chest. He brings his hand from your back to your head and starts to play with your hair, curling it around his finger. He moves his other hand to lay on top of your hand that was sitting on his stomach.

"Glad to see the bandages stayed on."

He lifts his hand to view it, "Yeah. You're a pretty good nurse...doctor...person. Maybe you could become my personal medical person."

"Long as you don't make me wear some skimpy nurse outfit."

"I wouldn't do that." He rests his hand back on top of yours.

"I might be ok with just wearing a lab coat though."

He stops messing with your hair for a moment and lifts his head to look at you, "Really?" he asks with all the sincerity and hope in the world.

You giggle, look up to meet his gaze, and give him a light peck on the lips. "Might. Adrian. Don't forget the keyword there."

He sighs as he places his head back down against your pillow. "You wanna watch a movie?"

You blink a few times, try to tell yourself that surely this man, the man who just made you literally vibrate from pleasure, is not asking you if you want to watch a movie on what you assume would just be his phone. You fail, of course, and say, "What."

"A movie? Might as well, I mean, I'm worn out and you seem worn out so why not?"

You close your eyes, indulging him you ask, "What movie do you suggest?"

He thinks for a moment before he replies, "Pirates of the Caribbean."

You bury your face into his chest to muffle your few laughs. You were not expecting him to suggest that movie. But you are relieved, you thought he was gonna choose something completely off the rails. "Which one? And please don't say any past the first three or I swear that I will kick you out regardless of your state of undress."

"First one, obviously." He says as if he is offended you would even ask. He reaches over to your nightstand and grabs his glasses before gently patting your head. "I need to get my phone..." You exhale before you roll over and get up along with him.

"Where the hell did you throw my pants?"

Adrian replies while trying to tug his boxers back on, "I was a little distracted." He glances around to help you, "Wait. There they are." He pointed to your bookshelf on the opposite side of the room as your bed. He had managed to toss them so they perfectly sat on top of it, where you couldn't reach.

You stare at them for a moment before you decide to just grab a random pair of pajama pants. It is your home after all, might as well take advantage. Adrian snuck up to you while you opened your dresser and he squeezes your bare ass. "Hey!" You turn to slap him, playfully of course, but he grabs your arm mid-swing and smirks.

"Have any PJ's for me?"

"Adrian you are more than half a foot taller than me. What makes you think I have PJs for you that would fit?"

His smile morphed into a contemplative face. "Nightgown? Wouldn't have to worry about length."

You can't hold back your smile, "I haven't needed to worry about length yet tonight, why start now right? I'm sure I have a nightgown somewhere at the bottom of this drawer."

He exhaled sharply, "You really thought that...You're not teasing me or anything? You actually think I..." He can't figure out how to finish his sentence.

You come back up, holding up a nightgown up to his body to see if it fit. "Good enough." You say, handing it to him before returning to the drawer to grab your sleep shirt and pants.

"Oh..." Adrian quietly mutters. Defeated he pulls the gown over his head. It is a bit awkward looking on him, like a toddler wearing his 6-year-old brother's shirt, but it works.

You are confused for a moment before you realize, "Oh my god, no I was talking about the gown. You were....you were great. No complaints here." You begin to get dressed.

"Really?"

You pull the shirt over your head, "Really."

"It's just these stupid nicknames I used to have-"

"Well, those nicknames obviously don't apply anymore." You make your way to him and grab his waist, bringing him closer to you. You two are quite the pair, Adrian in his gown that doesn't even reach his knees and you in your clothes that were too fluffy and odd-looking to be considered anything but pajamas. Both Adrian and your head felt full, but with alcohol or pleasure, you couldn't tell. "Movie time." You squinch your face up at his and bring him over to the bed. He quickly bends down to grab his phone from his jeans and opened Disney+.

You both sit down on the bed as the movie starts to play. He grabs his glasses as you rest your head on his shoulder. After a few minutes, he asks, "Do you wanna spoon?"

You pause the movie, "Sure, which do you want to be?"

His eyes light up as soon as you say that, "No one ever asks me, they always assume. Can I be the little spoon?"

"I don't see why not." You'd never been big spoon before but you figure you can make it work, not like there are height requirements. You both lay down and you drape your arm over him. You can't see the movie over the back of his head but you didn't mind. You had seen it before and either way, you could feel exhaustion creeping in and your eyes slowly becoming harder and harder to keep open. You finally allow your eyes to close. You hear Adrian ask if you can see the movie ok, you grunt and he takes it as a yes. You fall asleep to the sound of Jack Sparrow, and Adrian quietly whispering the lines along with him.

[thirdhandidiot]

Trans obey me hours bitches

(Main Post) If you were fortunate enough to avoid the first one, I recommend reading it first, but you don’t need to dw! guys keep hitting me up with obey me stuff in my inbox– I just wanted to finish this before I started anything else, but I love seeing your sexuality HC‘s amd can’t wait to talk Abt it!

I recon that it’s difficult for certain characters to go ‘unnoticed’ as trans for whatever reason, so here’s my thought, ask box is always open for obey me thoughts, especially if you think I’m representing anyone incorrectly or get anything wrong xx

•Lucifer would be one of the only brothers to go completely under the radar. Very few would ever imagine that he isn’t infact a cis male, and none would dare mention it to him. It’s a known fact that it’s practically impossible to catch lucifer in any state of undress, and whilst he’s unhappy with the attention thats brought towards it, he’s glad that no one has succeeded. Lucifer has scars on his chest, and whilst he’s taken good care of them to ensure optimal healing, they never completely left, the discoloured strip lighting up his already porcelain skin. Most days he’s able to completely forget about them, but occasionally he’ll see himself in the mirror and it’s stings, the reminder that hell never truly be what he considers perfect. On particularly bad days he will shut himself into his study only leaving for meal times (setting a good example to the others of course) and for classes, which isn’t too different from usually, but he shouts less, and the others can’t help but feel bad for taking advantage of Lucifers bad days, instead opting to maybe just, leave the fight for tomorrow yea?

•Mammon probably suffers pretty badly from dysphoria. His demon form requires him to expose the scars across his chest and as a result, quite a lot of people have a hunch. Anytime anyone asks he laughs it of with another story ‚attacked by huge bears!‘ ‚human witch tried ta kill me!‘ ,I battled diavolo and won!‘ but no one really believes his stories and he knows it. He appreciates that no one bothers him about it too much, but he doesn’t really like people knowing, it feels like they have something over him, like black mail, and we know how often mammon is blackmailed. Despite that he’s a successful model, having done plenty of shirtless shoots, and he’s noticed that the scars are never in the final picture, edited out in favour of flawlessly smooth skin, amd whilst he wishes he looked that way, it still feels wrong to see himself without them, especially when no ones brought it up to him.

•Levi absolutly has the worst dysphoria– due to his lungs being unlike any other demons (his demon form seems to have gills?) it’s dangerous for him to get surgery (not to mention he’s probably terrified of the prospect). As a result he just accepted a long time ago that he’d always have to bind. Considering how he’s almost always in his room, it’s not like many people know, but sometimes he’ll be in a raid and his voice will crack just one too many times when he’s mad, or he’ll get too defensive over someone else being attacked for being LGBT that there’s a few rumours online that he might be trans. He ignores them solidly in hope they go away but on bad days he can’t help but read them all– see complete strangers pick him apart and it hurts. Unable to bind for too long (for the fear of his brothers wrath) Levi often opts to wear huge clothes when in his room, which is part of the reason he makes people wait before entering, quickly changing into a binder, regardless of who’s at the door.

•Being neither Male nor female, it’s obviously impossible for Satan to go under the radar. Using they/them pronouns means that they’re often made to come out to people pretty soon after meeting them, given that they didn’t already know. Sometimes they just don’t have the energy to go through the gruelling task of listening to people stumble whilst trying to talk to them and will just leave, but being the avatar of wrath apparently has some advantages as very rarely does anyone try stop them. No one deliberately misgenders Satan twice, often meeting their timely end as they won’t hesitate to tear into anyone who has the disrespect to purposefully try hurt someone that way. Satan probably keeps an updated ‚LGBTQ+‘ book directory for any younger students, and has become something of a rolemodel completely unbeknownst to them, just for being an openly queer student (probably has a few admirers too).

•Asmo has a complicated, yet perfectly simple relationship with gender, whatever’s right is right. Usually using any pronouns, but occasionally making a request usually in the form of ‚I’m a princess tonight‘ or ‚i think I’m Daddy, don’t you?‘ and whilst the Brothers find it somewhat strange, theyre supportive and accustomed to the avatar of lusts mannerisms. Usually unbothered by strangers critiques, asmo is no stranger to being the centre of attention, be it a party, shoot or gossip blog. However this doesn’t mean that sometimes their body just feels wrong, like they can’t quite be comfortable whilst everyone’s talking to or about them, however sometimes fearing speaking up, feeling that they might be cut down for being over dramatic or fragile, which usually wouldn’t bother them, but in a more personal matter, it doesn’t always work out that way. Asmo is treated very much like any other human world celebrity that comes out as gender queer, often ignored by the press unless it’s relevant to the story

•Beel Is one of the brothers who passed stealth almost immediatly, having always been more muscular, much taller, and with a more subdued personality that no one questioned. Despite that, at first there was a fear that eating so much would cause him to gain weight on his hips or thighs, but he quickly found a love for working out that he hasn’t shaken since. Members of Beels gym are mostly aware that he’s trans, he doesn’t have a problem with people knowing, as long as they continue to show the same respect for him. He probably continues to post shirtless pics, not caring about what people think of him, and a lot of young queer people look up to him. He’s always happy to talk to anyone who comes up to him and asks for help, always willing to help others feel more comfortable, to give them that little boost.

•Belphie always struggled next to Beel. Of course they never told him that, and to this day belphie feels bad about keeping it a secret, but it’s better than upsetting Beel, right? Belphie didn’t really feel like anything. Definitely not a woman, but not a man? Non binary and gender queer never felt right, more like wearying a sticky name tag with your name spelt backwards where everyone pretends to understand it, when you know it’s wrong. Belphie took hormone replacements for a few years, wanting to remove the association with their birth assigned gender, but after a while, that started to feel wrong too, it was too much. A lot of people ask Beel ‚what Belphie is?‘ and when he told Belphie, they just told him to shrug. If Belphie doesn’t know, why would they? But a lot of people think they know, telling them ‚oh you must be agender!‘ ‚oh so youre Demi gendered?‘ but why would they know? Why do they feel entitled to their indentity? It’s draining.

[kaiunkaiku]

Sickdays 6, May 19th: Shake

Fandom: Hunter x Hunter

Summary: "Killua opens the door slowly, hesitantly, but he does it anyway. He’s as pale as his hair, almost translucent under the harsh bathroom lighting, and he’s visibly shaking so badly it’s no wonder he can’t string together a sentence without stuttering in the middle."

Warnings: Referenced child abuse, vomiting, panic attacks, nightmares, talk of trauma

Ao3

Killua gets out of bed both earlier and later than Leorio expected, eleven in the morning being surprisingly early for someone who usually falls asleep between three in the morning and never, and surprisingly late for someone sleeping in the same bed with a morning person. Gon and Kurapika have been out for about an hour, Kurapika having errands to run and Gon tagging along, and Leorio is enjoying his rare free, quiet time. He watches from his spot on the couch as Killua emerges from the guest bedroom, and frowns.

The kid looks positively haunted. There's a near-empty look in his eyes and a halting quality to his footsteps, like he's moving on autopilot. He's white as a sheet. Leorio doesn't bother trying to hide the way his eyes follow as Killua moves past the living room and into the kitchen, and the fact that Killua lets him do that without so much as a glance confirms that Leorio gets to play doctor at home, now, too.

Leorio watches as Killua pours himself a cup of lukewarm coffee and doesn’t put in an ungodly amount of sugar. Killua sits down on a barstool at the kitchen island and grabs a piece of plain white bread, and doesn’t even make a face when he takes a sip of the coffee. There’s an attempt at normalcy, but Killua’s grade is a red, fat F from where Leorio is sitting.

He almost wants to ask, but he also doesn’t want to startle Killua into hiding. Let him come out with it when –  if – he feels like it, Leorio figures; it’s the only way with Killua, really. Gon has tried the forceful approach, the kind he’s so used to – the kind where he demands answers, and demands, and yells until he gets what he wants – with him many times, but has rarely succeeded. Killua has, especially these days, a tendency to shut down when faced with that.

So Leorio waits.

Killua’s movements look almost robotic. He nibbles at the slice of bread a little bit, takes a small sip of coffee, nibbles again. His expression stays empty, the haunted look in his eyes doesn’t lift, and the word  dissociation  flashes through Leorio’s mind.

He’s just starting to consider texting Kurapika about there possibly being something not quite right with Killua, when Killua flinches in the middle of a sip of coffee. The movement is so sudden that Leorio almost flinches along, but he doesn’t have time to sort it out, not really, because Killua damn near slams the cup on the table and hops off the barstool. For the first time this morning his movements seem purposeful as he turns around and heads straight into the hallway. From the glimpse Leorio catches, there’s still no emotion on his face, but he could swear the kid looks practically gray.

Then the bathroom door slams, and Leorio gets on his feet, because goddammit he guessed right so he’s not even surprised to hear the retching that follows. He makes sure his steps are audible even for a less trained person than Killua as he walks up to the bathroom, mentally shrugging on his doctor persona. He’s got a feeling Killua is not going to want anything even remotely brotherly (even if healthy family dynamics could do him a world of good).

Leorio knocks on the door lightly, not knowing whether to expect any kind of response or not. What follows is another bout of retching, and something splattering, and then something hits the door from inside. Leorio jerks back.

“Go away!” Killua screams, or at least tries to – his voice is scratchy, and Leorio is almost sure he’s crying. Sounds upset. Probably a nightmare, Leorio reasons. Informing Kurapika and Gon is sounding increasingly good.

He knocks again. “Killua, I can help you, you know that,” he nearly sighs, because Killua is a frustrating teenager if he’s ever met one and if he’s as freaked out as Leorio suspects this is going to suck. But he’s a doctor, and Killua is his friend. He’s dealt with stubborn teenagers on the job enough to find a shaky semblance of a routine in this, and he’s helped Killua with nightmares before just enough to know that the longer he lets it go on the worse it will get.

Killua throws something else at the door. Leorio isn’t surprised this time.

“I don’t n-need help,” Killua tells him, an attempt at composure creeping into his voice and falling apart with the stammer. He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself of it more than anyone else, or maybe it’s just Leorio’s wishful thinking.  God  he hopes Killua is just trying to hold on to his pride and not actually thinking he’s going to go through this alone. “I’m fine. Just g–” Killua tries, but is cut off by what Leorio figures is a gag, followed by an echoing heave.

“Stop lying to yourself, kid,” Leorio tells him sternly, though not unkindly. “The faster you let me in, the faster you’ll feel better. I’ll treat this like work, if you want me to,” he adds, refraining from mentioning that this is his and Kurapika's house, actually, and Killua is their guest and thus can’t really tell him to go.

He doesn't really expect that to do the trick. In fact, he expects Killua to yell again, or throw something again, or just completely shut down, but instead he hears footsteps – soft, but audible anyway, which is a terrible sign in and of itself since Killua’s steps are usually utterly silent to the best of ears – and a soft “okay.”

Killua opens the door slowly, hesitantly, but he does it anyway. He’s as pale as his hair, almost translucent under the harsh bathroom lighting, and he’s visibly shaking so badly it’s no wonder he can’t string together a sentence without stuttering in the middle. His jaw is clenched, probably to keep his teeth from chattering. He’s hugging himself tight and there are beads of sweat at his hairline, and yeah, he’s probably not going to be standing for much longer.

Leorio feels his face soften as he takes in the misery in Killua’s red-rimmed eyes. Everything else about the kid is screaming make it stop already, but the haunted, terrified look in his eyes is what really does it, what really screams help even as his mouth is claiming he doesn’t need it. Leorio wants to bundle him up in blankets to protect him from the world and punch his brother.

There’s an instinct to crouch down he has to quell, something he’s always been so used to doing with scared kids. He used to do it with Killua and Gon, too, but that was years ago and Killua at seventeen years old is just a tad taller than Kurapika and thus comes up to about Leorio’s shoulders instead of barely his chest with his hair mussed up, so it’s not really effective anymore. So instead he reaches out a hand to hover above Killua’s shoulder and makes sure he’s as non-threatening as possible; Killua has never taken well to looming. Leorio wants to punch his brother.

“Killua,” he starts, calm, reassuring. Killua stares at his hovering hand with a strange mixture of apprehension and relief resulting in mostly confusion, like he wants the physical comfort but thinks he shouldn’t and he’s stuck in that loop.

One of these days Leorio really is going to drag himself back to Padokea for the sole reason of punching Illumi. Probably a few other family members too. Milluki definitely deserves a punch or two. The parents also, he thinks. Who the fuck lets their kid become like this?

(Who the fuck locks one of their kids in a basement and misgenders her throughout her entire life? He’s really gonna have to do something drastic, isn’t he.)

Killua stares at his hand a little longer until he nods hesitantly. He’s tense, coiled like a spring under Leorio’s hand, and his skin feels clammy.

“You’re gonna have to communicate with me here, kid,” he tells him, squeezing his shoulder lightly. Killua shivers. Nods. Doesn’t say anything. It’s enough. “Nodding’s just fine, you don’t need to talk. You done being sick?”

Killua hugs himself tighter and shakes his head. There’s a clear attempt at controlling his breathing, but that’s lost when he opens his mouth and tries to take a deeper breath. He makes it about halfway before it hitches and turns into a sob instead, and his face falls into horror as he slaps a hand over his mouth. Killua takes a shaky step backwards so Leorio takes his hand back to himself, not wanting to trap him.

Or he would, but Killua’s other hand shoots out and grabs his wrist in a surprising move. There are tears glistening in his eyes and panic behind them, and the way he’s trying to breathe behind his hand lets Leorio know he’s heading towards a full-blown panic attack. He brings both of his hands to grip Killua’s biceps.

“Killua, listen to me. We’re gonna sit down, and we’re gonna do a couple of breathing exercises,” he says, and Killua all but collapses onto the floor, so fast Leorio can barely slow the motion down. Suddenly it’s like all the tension from Killua’s body has drained away, like he’s been given permission to stand down.

Now that he’s no longer forcing himself to be still, the shaking is starting to calm down, even if Killua isn’t. Another sob tears through him and his hand moves to clutch at Leorio’s shirt. Leorio rubs his thumbs in circles on Killua’s skin, letting go of the strict professionalism in favor of something uncomfortably parental that has nagged at him ever since he met Killua and Gon.

“Hey, kid, listen, I know it’s easy to sink, but look at me. I’m gonna help you.”

Killua raises his head, looks straight into Leorio’s eyes, and nods. The movement is jerky, barely there, but he’s staring right at Leorio.

Leorio guides him through two different breathing exercises – the first one doesn’t work, almost makes things worse – and by the time Killua’s breathing starts to settle into a steadier rhythm they’ve been sitting on the hard floor for about ten minutes. Leorio waits a few more minutes, until Killua has mostly calmed down and he’s sure the kid is breathing properly, before talking again.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asks, tries to present the question so that there’s no demand for Killua to answer if he doesn’t want to.

But because Killua is Killua and can never do anything the easy way, he tenses up immediately, scrambles to the toilet, and throws up again. Leorio resists the urge to sigh and moves himself next to Killua, who looks positively gray again and is shaking like a leaf.

“I. I saw Illumi,” Killua whispers into the toilet, and Leorio is almost startled. Almost. Surprised, yes. “And Gon, at, at NGL.” Killua swallows thickly and rests his forehead on the rim in front of him. He’s curling up tighter again. “And I saw Illumi killing Gon, and Gon was killing, and he was crying, and I-I-I ran, I ran away and Illumi got to Alluka and I didn’t do anything–”

It seems that once Killua gets going, he’s going to keep talking. It’s probably a good thing, to vent everything out, even if Leorio would prefer it if he could do it in a more controlled, less frantic manner. But it’s too late for that now, so Leorio lets him ramble on through his nightmares and keeps rubbing circles on Killua’s shoulders and back.

Killua doesn’t calm down once he stops talking, so Leorio persuades him into the living room and talks him through another breathing exercise. Killua’s hands shake as he keeps count with his fingers and lists his surroundings with a wavering voice, but eventually he just slumps against the armrest, still looking somewhat haunted but no longer verging on a complete breakdown. Just tired and small. He takes two sips of water Leorio forces into him, and continues looking tired and small.

“I’m gonna text Kurapika,” Leorio says, after a good stretch of silence. Killua tenses up, but not much. Good. “They’re gonna tell Gon, so how vague do you want me to be?” He waits for an answer, but all Killua does is shrug, so Leorio keeps the message professionally vague. “You want Gon here?” he thinks to ask. Killua nods. Leorio adds another line to the text and hits send.

Kurapika makes hot chocolate like only they can, once they come home. Gon plants himself next to Killua on the couch, gathers him into a hug and doesn’t let go for hours. Killua leans his head on Gon’s shoulder and sips at his hot chocolate quietly, just listens to Gon prattle on about everything and anything and nothing.

An occasional shiver still runs through Killua, and Gon holds him just a bit tighter with each one. Leorio retreats to the kitchen with Kurapika and decides to leave it be. Kurapika hands him a steaming mug that’s not coffee and not hot chocolate either, so it’s probably some fancy tea Kurapika is so fond of these days. He’s much more of a coffee person, and really, caffeine would be nice right now, but Kurapika scoffs at him and softly tells him to just drink it, so he does. It’s a bit sweet, and there’s a slightly bitter taste under it that he can’t quite place.

Kurapika settles next to him with a book and a mug of their own. Leorio sips at his drink slowly and pulls out his phone. He spares a glance at the living room every now and again, but they both leave the kids alone.

The next morning, Killua thanks Leorio, unsure with his words and body language, but thanks him anyway. He looks a lot better, a lot more alert than he did yesterday. He doesn’t want to talk about it further, so Leorio takes his thanks, gives the kid a hug, and lets it be.

[ephemeral-afterlight]

Day 9: Shackled

(We’ll scream, we’ll dream.)

Whumptober 2019 Day 9: Shackled

Word Count: 1816

Relationships: Moceit (NOT consensual), Moxiety (past), allusions to Moduke (past)

Warnings: Unsympathetic Patton, childhood kidnapping/growing up in captivity (mentioned), rape (non-explicit but it does happen), abuse (mainly physical), cursing, lots of vulgar/explicit language, misgendering/deadnaming. Please tell me if I’m missing any.

A/N: yeah, this one is pretty heavy too. it also includes non-con, and although it isn’t super graphic/explicit, i highly advise you to stay away if that will make you uncomfortable. sorry it’s an hour late, blah blah blah, this is becoming a habit and it’s not a good one

Virgil can’t stop feeling so goddamn guilty.

He should have paid more attention, over the years he was with Patton. He should have questioned why his boyfriend would disappear into the basement, often for hours at a time, without a single explanation. He should have seen how disturbed Patton was, realized that he needed professional help. He should have seen it, should have known that Dee was down here suffering all this time, but he didn’t. He didn’t, and now Dee is traumatized, and she’s lost so much of her life and her childhood and her personal autonomy, and it’s Virgil’s fault. It’s his fault.

No, no, it’s not. It’s not his fault. He has to stop doing that. He knows that this is just a product of his anxiety, and he’s unrealistically feeling responsible. There wasn’t anything he could have done. Even if he did find out about Dee’s presence earlier, there would be no guarantee he’d have even been able to help her, and it would probably have just sped up the timeline. Who knows, maybe Patton would’ve left him down here with her.

Like now.

Even here, as Dee stands against the wall, open and unashamed with her nudity, there’s something closed-off in the air. Virgil feels an odd, overwhelming sense of insecurity that comes from a place he can’t pinpoint, somewhere ashamed. He knows it’s not his fault. It’s not his fault. It’s Patton’s doing.

“Dee, I don’t… I don’t know if he’s gonna come down here again, and I’ll try my best to make sure nothing happens to you if he does, but… I’m chained up like you are. I’ll-- I’ll get us out, but I might… I might need a little more time, okay? Not long, but…” Virgil trails off, low, strained voice echoing off the concrete walls of the basement. Delilah’s eyelashes flutter as she snaps to attention, jolts her head up to look for danger, and then relaxes minutely when she processes the statement. Virgil hates Patton. He hates him.

“Y’h… Been down here a long time anyway. Used to it. I c’n wait,” Dee murmurs, eyes trained at her bare feet, and Virgil feels his fury sharpen like a knife. She shouldn’t have to wait, shouldn’t be used to it. She should have had a good childhood, grown up properly. She should have been able to go to sports games with her friends, ordered pizzas and played video games, felt the pride of graduating from high school. She should have been able to feel the joy of her friends using the right name, to buy her first skirt, to have girl’s nights and sleepovers. She should have had a life. A real life. Not this.

Things get quiet again. They’ve been going in and out of bouts of silence for a while, have been lost in their own thoughts. There is a bit of light coming from upstairs, but it’s not exactly enough to see well by, and there isn’t really anything to do but wait. Virgil’s already tried to yank at the shackles, see if they could break if he pulled hard enough, but it was to no avail. So. Now he just… waits.

The creak of the basement door is a sound that is all too familiar to Virgil, one that he heard so many times while rarely ever questioning it. Patton told him he was making friendship jewelry. Virgil should have seen through his bullshit. Aside from the fact that the memories of Patton disappearing down here over and over and over without any repercussions or suspicion through the years are probably going to be ones that will haunt Virgil for the rest of his life, he knows he needs to focus on now, focus on Dee, and focus on keeping Patton busy.

And Patton’s down here in their presence again, rambling on about something that goes completely over Virgil’s head. It’s some shit about how great he slept last night with Virgil not there, how he had the bed all to himself, and Virgil couldn’t give a single fuck about his attempt to make Virgil angry. He’s already angry, and if he really wants to infuriate him, he’s gonna have to do better than that.

“Why, hello, Ethan. You’re looking ugly today,” Patton greets cheerfully, doesn’t notice the way Dee flinches when he says the wrong name. Virgil doesn’t blame her for not telling him. It’s none of his goddamn business to know. Even so, Virgil still feels bad for her, because it’s not like growing up in captivity has really allowed her to do any personal searching, have creative expression, or experiment with herself. Virgil’s parents were similarly strict, and although his situation was never anywhere close to being as bad as Delilah’s is, he sorta gets it.

“Y’know, if you weren’t such a disgusting excuse of a human being, I might have made you my boyfriend. Would you like that? D’you want to be my pretty, docile little housewife? Wanna be my cute little fucktoy, bend over whenever I tell you?” Patton asks, tone high as if he’s talking to a child, or a dog, and that’s probably not far from how he views her. Patton’s narcissistic demeanour is one of the most infuriating things Virgil has ever had the misfortune of witnessing, but he can’t lose control. He needs to reign in his vexation, stay in control of the situation. It’s for Delilah’s sake.

“You couldn’t get with someone you wanted even if you tried. Nobody wants your small dick,” Virgil spits, pulls against his chains again in frustration even as the rest of his body remains still. He’s pleasantly surprised that he’s able to keep the urgency out of his voice, since it’s imperative to not show Patton weakness right now. As soon as he finds a crack in the wall, a break in the code, he’ll latch onto it and exploit it. Virgil can’t let that happen.

“Hmph, really? You seemed to be enjoying my ‘small dick’ all those times I fucked you so good you couldn’t even speak. But maybe that was a different Virgil?” Patton muses, sneers from the side as he strokes Delilah’s trembling face with the backs of his fingers. Virgil wants to yell, and scream, and punch Patton so hard it knocks him straight into hell, but he can’t. He can’t show emotion, can’t show fear. He has to make him angry.

“Oh, please, are you that delusional? I didn’t speak because there was nothing to say. It was boring. I wanted to yawn every single time we had sex, but I guess my plan to stroke your ego and make you think I wanted you worked, didn’t it? The only reason I stayed with you was for your house and money. You cooked for me every night, gave me a bed and a roof, and that’s honestly all I really got out of this. You couldn’t fuck someone into speechlessness if your life depended on it, you’re too boring and vanilla to attract anyone else, and I could easily have up and left a three for a ten. Sorry, bud, but you never had me.” Virgil finishes his rant with a loud scoff, a flourish to really hammer his point home. He can see how furious it makes him. He can relish in the way Patton’s brows pull down with his enragement, even as he senses a whisper of guilt work its way into his chest. Virgil hates that he feels bad, hates that he’s outright lying. He wishes that it were true, but it’s not. And at least he gets Patton’s attention, but then Patton doesn’t look very mad anymore.

“Oh, I see what’s going on here,” Patton says, tone mocking. He looks nonplussed as he turns to Virgil, huffs a laugh as he stalks toward him. Virgil isn’t afraid. He wants to punch him. “You’re trying to distract me.”

“What, like you were too distracted by that pretty young secretary Abby to keep Remus from leaving you?” Virgil retorts scathingly, and even as a flash of anger slices through Patton’s eyes, even as a fist slams into his stomach and he chokes out a whine, he knows he’s won. He knows that Patton knows, too.

“How did you know about Remus?” Patton hisses, yanks Virgil’s head up by the chin when he lolls forward. Virgil stays silent, just apathetically stares Patton down, and the latter of the two growls and whips the palm of his hand across a bruised cheek. The cough that comes out is rough, but he doesn’t yell out, and that just incenses Patton more. “Answer me!”

Virgil breathes slowly out through his nose. He can see Dee cowering in the corner, terrified as she watches them dance, and Virgil slowly raises his head up. His eyes meet Patton’s once more, narrow in the tense silence, and then he spits blood directly in Patton’s face. “Go fuck yourself.”

And he looks furious, madder than Virgil has ever seen him. It’s almost funny, how Patton reels his arm back, prepares to send another blow rocketing into Virgil’s already weak body. But then Patton’s anger bleeds from his face, is replaced by cold amusement and a malicious grin, and Virgil feels dread sink into his stomach. Something is wrong. He’s supposed to be pissed, but he’s not, so what is he planning?

But then Patton spins around, stomps toward an increasingly more horrified Delilah, and Virgil doesn’t bother swallowing down the shout that bursts from his throat. And Virgil can’t do anything, can’t move as Patton slaps away Dee’s defensive hands, can’t break the chains as he pushes her up against the wall. He can’t help her when she shakes her head back and forth violently, can’t stop him when Patton rips an anguished cry from the defenseless girl, and Virgil is going to throw up.

He can’t watch. He can’t watch her terror morph into apathy, watch her face slowly shift from severely distressed to droopy neutrality. He can’t watch her become quiet, watch her arm fall like dead weight to hang at her side. He can’t watch, so he squeezes his eyes shut and blocks it out.

No.

He promised! He fucking promised he would get her out, that he wouldn’t let Patton keep causing her to suffer. He said he would stop the torture, and as soon as he’s being tested, he curls up and cries like a baby? No. No. He isn’t going to break his promise to her. He can’t let her down, betray the meager trust she’s already been kind enough to give to him. She’s gone through so much already, and Virgil gave her hope, and he can’t abandon that. Fuck this. Fuck Patton and every deranged thing he’s ever done.

Virgil opens his eyes, and his vision is tinged in red.

[thatgaydemigodnerd]

A little bit of Both

Tw: truscum, anxiety, transphobia, misgendering

This is the first part of my three part fic about Roman going through various labels for their gender. In this first part they will identify as a trans woman.

This part may not have the happiest ending, but that will be changed in the following parts and at the end of the third part there will be an entirely happy ending.

This is for week two of @fander-pride-meetup representation

If you wanna be tagged in the next parts please don't sent me an ask I rarely see them, send me a message

Roman was a boy.

He had been born as one, and he usually felt like one.

Until he wasn’t.

He didn’t know when it happened, but he felt more like a woman now. Wait, not he, she, Roman reminded herself. She was looking in the mirror, her lack of boobs glaringly obvious. All her male features didn’t feel very wrong per se, just off.

“I guess I’m trans now?” She said more as a question than a real statement. She hand expected this, she always seemed to be fine with being a guy, but lately it just didn’t sit right with her.

She weighed her options and decided that there’s no reason to hide this from her friends, and that doing so would only increase her suffering. Patton would probably be supportive of her, Virgil would probably get anxious about misgendering her, and Logan would probably reassure him with facts and research.

Everyone was over at Virgil’s house, sitting on or around the couch in his room and playing Mario kart on an old Wii. Roman was feeling very nervous and couldn’t concentrate so he ended up in last place. Virgil, playing Bowser, shot a red shell at Logan, playing Luigi, with the finish line in sight, he started laughing as he passed him, but right before he crossed the finish line a blue she’ll landed on him blowing him and Logan who was right behind him into the air, Patton, playing toad, raced past both of them with a huge grin on his face and finished first. Logan and Virgil were staring wide-eyed at Patton who had actually been the one who shot the blue shell, he got it in sixth place during the second round and kept it with him and he slowly advanced to third place.

Roman didn’t bother actually finish the race, putting down her controller instead and taking a few breaths.

“Are you okay kiddo?” Patton asked her, tilting his head slightly to the left and smiling. “You seem a little distracted, what’s on your mind?”

Roman took a few more deep breaths. “I have something I want to tell you guys,” she hesitated, not sure how to start.

Virgil tensed up and got a worried look in his eyes. “Oh no, something’s wrong isn’t it, you’re gonna tell us that you’re moving away, or that you’re sick and you’re gonna die, are you gonna die? Oh god oh no.”

“It’s nothing bad, I promise, it’s okay, I’m not gonna die.” Roman quickly stated to calm her friends anxiety.

“Well, I can assure you there is no point in making us wait to hear whatever it is you wanted to tell us.” Logan said while giving Virgil one of his stimtoys to help him cope with his anxiety.

“I know that specs, I’m just having trouble finding the right words.”

Patton reached over and put his hand on Roman’s shoulder, Roman took a deep breath again before quickly saying “I’m trans!” She held her eyes closed because she was too scared to see the reactions of her friends.

“Well that’s alright kiddo, I love you regardless of your gender, you’re still the amazing person we know and love.” Patton said, though Roman did notice how he quickly let go of his shoulder.

“That’s it? That’s what you almost gave me a panic attack over? Dude, that’s nothing, I don’t get why you’d be so nervous about that, you should know we accept you.”

“Indeed, being transgender is not out of the ordinary, we are a group where each member will support any other member with anything. I shall send you some links on how to deal with dysphoria.”

Roman opened her eyes again and looked at the others, Patton was awkward about it, Virgil was dismissive about it, only Logan was ready to fully support her just like that. She faked a smile and leaned backwards falling against the backrest of the couch. “Thanks guys.”

Roman was laying on the bed in Logan’s room while Logan sat at his desk and typed away on his laptop.

“Logan, could we talk? I just need someone who will listen to me for a bit.” Roman asked as he stared at the ceiling.

“I am inadequate in dealing with emotional matters, but I will try to the best of my abilities.” He clicked safe on the document he was working on and closed his laptop.

“It feels weird to be out as trans, I would have thought that our friends would have been better about it. But I’m getting very different signals.” She began, sitting up and crossing her legs as she looked at Logan.

“How so?”

“It feels like Patton is avoiding me, and when we do spend time together, its usually with someone else there. And he avoids addressing me. I asked Patton about it when we were alone. But he just said ‘What are you talking about kiddo? You know I love you regardless of your gender.’” Roman sighed.

“Are you sure you aren’t misinterpreting things?”

“That isn’t everything, there’s also the fact that he doesn’t hug me anymore, and this is Patton were talking about, he hugs all his friends all the time. And also, whenever I sit down next to him he shortly after gets up and says he goes to the toilet or something else like that, and when he does come back he sits somewhere else, away from me.”

“I see.”

“And then there’s Virgil, he constantly misgenders me but when I correct him he just gives me a half smile and a shrug, he doesn’t even say sorry, and then he does it again the next time he talks about me.”

“I can see how that can be distressing, surely it can’t be enjoyable to feel dysphoric so often.”

“Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about that, I appreciate the support you’ve been giving me with sending me all those articles about being transgender and how to deal with dysphoria, but I don’t really feel dysphoria.” Roman said awkwardly as she scratched the back of her neck.

Logan looked surprised at Roman. “I was under the impression that you were transgender?”

“Yeah, I am?”

“How can you claim to be transgender when you do not even experience gender dysphoria.”

“What do you mean? You don’t need to have dysphoria to be trans.” Roman was nervously looking at Logan as he straightened his glasses.

“I know for a fact that you do, so if you do not experience gender dysphoria you are clearly not transgender.”

Roman looked surprised at Logan, feeling betrayed and wanting to cry.

“If you cannot even be honest about who you are I do not want you in my room, this is a sanctum of honesty and truth.” Logan said as he opened the door.

Roman blinked rapidly in an attempt not to cry as she put on her shoes and quickly walked out of the room. She didn’t want to cry in front of Logan.

Roman was sitting on her bed, tears streaming down her cheeks and making his blanket wet, there was already a sizable wet spot but she didn’t care enough to move to a dryer part of the bed, it would just get wet too. Roman had been holed up in her room for days, only leaving to raid the kitchen. The only things she did were eat, sleep, cry, and stare at her ceiling as she felt numb. She had considered calling someone but who would she call? Patton was avoiding her, Virgil obviously didn’t care enough about her to even try using the right pronouns, and Logan basically disowned her as a friend because he’s a truscum, she had no one to turn to.

Her father had come into her room, and he had set next to her as she stared at the ceiling, but she was feeling too numb to hear what he was saying. Eventually he left, but Roman noticed that after that there was a lot more ice cream in the freezer, her favourite comfort food.

On the fifth day she finally decided to turn her phone back on, she just couldn’t stand hearing only the sound of her crying anymore. Her phone vibrated as lots of messages came through at once. Roman scrolled through them, most were from Virgil who seemed to have had multiple freak-outs over her sudden disappearance, there were some from Logan, most recently a link, but Roman didn’t dare click on his contact, too afraid of what she’ll see. She looked if any we’re from Patton, but there was nothing, ever since she had come out, she hadn’t tried sending anything to him herself because she didn’t want to be ignored.

Roman hovered with her finger over Virgil’s contact, clearly he had been worried about her. Roman wanted to reach out to someone so badly, she wanted to not feel alone anymore so badly, she wanted to have friends again, or at the very least she wanted someone she could actually trust not to backstab her. She pressed Virgil’s contact and tried to write a text, but suddenly she just couldn’t find the words to express herself. She kept staring at the empty text box, her fingers ready to type anything her mind came up with, but nothing came. Eventually she just typed something and hit send before she could change her mind.

Princess charming: hey

Patches: Where the fuck have you been, I’ve been worried sick, you haven’t answered any of my texts or calls and now you suddenly show your face

Patches: What do you have to say for yourself?

Princess charming: I honestly feel like absolute shit, so much has been bothering me and I just can’t deal with it anymore

Patches: Oh shit dude, that sucks.

Roman had had it, she couldn’t let this go on any longer.

Princess charming: stop that!

Patches: Stop what?

Princess charming: calling me dude, I’m not a dude

Princess charming: stop acting like I am one

Patches: What?

Princess charming: you keep using he him pronouns for me even when I correct you, you call me dude, you just act like I’m not trans at all and I’m sick of it

Patches: Wow, I never realized it bothered you so much, I guess I just didn’t think it was that important?

Princess charming: why wouldn’t it be important?

Princess charming: I corrected you so often

Princess charming: how did you not think that maybe you should listen to me and start using the right pronouns

Virgil didn’t say anything for a while, Roman could see that he kept typing something but deleted it again soon after. Finally he said something

Patches: Okay, how about this, when I fuck up pronouns or whatever, you can punch me on the shoulder, eventually I’ll have to get it right that way.

Princess charming: deal

[typetypetype2]

Chapter 1: Witch Store (Working title)

Wobble has always been a hangry cat and by this point, he knew when it was feeding time. He also knew when it was time for his human to wake up. Bouncing his tiny body through the apartment he marched his way to the bedroom. It's only a few steps for a human but for a tiny cat, it would take a while. Being that he is a familiar on the smaller side everything he did took a while. He's lazy to boot so that doesn't help.

Making his way past colorful plants that towered over him almost looked like he was on another planet until he made got closer to the couch. He loved to sleep in the corner by the lavender and jasmine. Past the pale purple couch, now he could see into the kitchen. He looked at the counter-tops he was never allowed on. Continuing on his journey he could finally see the bedroom door which was only slightly ajar. No matter how much he had demanded it keep it open his human always refused. Nudging it gently with his head he crept inside the room. The walls a deep purple and every accent was a light teal green. It was the only room in the tiny apartment that had any sort of style. He climbed the bed and found his human underneath all the covers. The a/c was on full blast so they had buried themselves in blankets to make up for it. It also kept someone from scratching their face off to wake them up, which may or may not have been what Wobble was getting ready to do. He burrowed himself under the covers to find that his human was awake and using her phone.

"Good morning baby." I kissed his forehead while rubbing his back. Wobble meowed in return almost as if begging for his owner to get up right this second. Glancing at the time I rolled over. "Did you come to wake me up or to ask for breakfast?" Wobble said nothing and made his way carefully out of the sheets and down to the carpet stretching. I followed suit, my favorite time of the day is to stretch with him in the mornings. "Alright, I'll get your food first then I'll feed the plants then I get to feed my face." I smiled and grabbed the remote to turn off the a/c and placed it back on the nightstand, unplugged my phone and walked out the door toward the kitchen. Wobble's food was stored above the top shelf so that way even if he grew he hopefully wouldn't be able to reach it. A familiar of his kind never really grew to be any bigger than he is now but I didn't want to take any chances. He had already broken one too many glasses and forced me to start buying plastic instead. Anytime he would get hangry he would launch himself onto the counters to bat off whatever may have been in his way. Heaving on the bag of food I half expected Wobble to jump up to try and grab it, but that was a fear that I always had.

After Wobble's food bowl was filled I grabbed a cup of water and began to water the plants. In total there had to about 30 of them in the apartment alone. I always start in the bathroom that way brushing teeth and using the toilet would be easy without Wobble trying to but his head into everything I'm doing. There are only 3 plants in the bathroom anyway all because of Wobble. There used to be more but for some reason, he hated every plant that was in there so the rest were moved downstairs.

Downstairs is the shop that I work in. It's owned by one of my best friends who has willingly rented me this apartment when I was down on my luck. Nowadays, I'm doing fine and am pretty well off. Having enough to buy my car, my broomstick, and many more witch supplies that before I was doing without. After a few years, my friend had found Wobble trying to get into the apartment one day while I was out shopping. He took the cat to his house since it was getting late but all the Wobble did was scream until he introduced him to me a day later. The tiny cat went silent and still in my arms which meant he was a familiar. Even better it meant he was meant to be MY familiar which meant I had been stuck with an animal, a magical animal, I had no idea how to take care of.

It didn't take long for the two of us to get close, however. It was almost like we had the same personality, which is rare for a witch and her familiar to have. Usually, for the first few years, a witch and their familiar would have to work together and would regularly bicker and avoid each other. For these us though, we never fought. Except for the occasionally scratch to the face to signal it was time for me to wake up, which I hate, our relationship has been pretty smooth going so far.

"Now that all the plants are taken care of it's time for some cereal!" Pouring out the remaining water and placing the cup face down in the sink, I made my way to the fridge. Grabbing a bowl from the cabinet and one of the cereal boxes from the top of the fridge the breakfast had been made. I decided to stand and eat. It didn't make sense to sit when I still have other things to do. I grabbed my phone from the counter where I had placed it earlier and a spoon from the top drawer and began shoveling spoonful's of sugary goodness down my throat, barley thinking to chew. I hadn't eaten the night before because work had gotten too hectic for me to take a break. With a mouth full of cereal I got a phone call from Jax. "Hewwo?" I asked, chewing the rest of the food in my mouth. "Did you eat?" "Maybe?" "What does that even mean?" He asked confused. "I might have been eating and I might have not eaten, why do you ask?" I put down my spoon hoping he was inviting me out to eat for some real food. "Well, we were going to eat at Kick's but if you ate already then," I didn't give him time to finish. "What time? I'm down. Who is we?" "Me, Sari, Jenni, and you? If that's okay. I know you and Jenni weren't getting along last I heard." I shook my head disappointed. Jenni and I haven't gotten along in a while. After I came out to the group Jax had approved, Sari nodded and asked inquisitive questions, and Jenni ignored me. She choose instead to call me 'she' for the rest of the time we were hanging out and I wanted nothing to do with her from that time forward. However, I am hungry so I shall go. I won't like it and I know for a fact that I'm going to be annoyed while there, however after the event but my tum will be full of great food and I haven't seen Jax and Sari in a while. "No, I'll go. I won't like it or enjoy myself but I'll go. I miss you and Sari plus I'm hungry so." "Is that a good idea? I don't need you getting upset and going home in a hurry." "I'll bring Wobble and some amethyst to keep me grounded so I should be fine. Tell her to try to be polite. If she manages to still piss me off I might just spell cast her." "Oh my gosh don't do that! That's not nice!" "Well, she's not nice! Don't ask me to be civil while letting she misgenders me the whole damn day! Wait, what time are we going?" Asking that I looked down at my bowl of cereal. I either had time to scarf it down or I'd have to pour it down the drain. Whatever I did it would be an upsetting waste of cereal if I don't get to enjoy it. "Uhm, we going right now. Is that ok? If not we can schedule something else another time?" "Nah, I get ready now. I go." "Okay. Well, hurry up we almost there!" "Oh please, I know damn well you're either still in bed or stuck in traffic. Sari is probably waiting for a ride from Jenni and Jenni is nowhere near ready. If I hurry I'll be the first one there and Jenni might not even come." Jax chuckles "you know us so well." We laugh together as I pour out my bowl into the sink. Turning on the garbage disposal and enjoying the sound of the cereal grinding up and going down the drain. "What was that noise?!" I laugh again "It was the garbage disposal." "What is you disposing of? A body?" "Nah, I did that last night. I dumped it out in the harbor with the rest of them." Jax was dying laughing at the thought. We both had a strange sense of humor. Having been on Bumblr for around the same amount of time and sharing memes for years.

I told Jax that I'd meet him in the parking lot of the restaurant and hung up the phone. Since I need to hurry I might as well take the broom instead of the car and get dressed sooner rather than later. Bringing my phone with me I marched into the bedroom after dumping my bowl in the sink. I already have an outfit in mind, that new black and purple dress I bought two days ago, a black jacket, and my black work boots. I started to close the door until I heard a tiny meow in protest. Leaving the door open I starred into my closet realizing a little too late that the dress was still in a bag on the floor in the corner from when I bought it. Turning my head I now saw that's where Wobble had planted his butt and yawned. It's not difficult to move him at all it'll just be a chore I didn't want to deal with while being in a hurry.

"Don't worry bud you're coming with me." I scooped him up in my hands and grabbed the bag. Placing the cat on my bed I pulled on the dress and did a twirl in the mirror on my bathroom door. Wobble mewed in approval. Scooping Wobble in my arms again I rushed into the living room almost hitting my foot on the couch, I grabbed my vented backpack from its hook and plopped Wobble inside. Putting the bag down I began to slide my foot into my boot while simultaneously putting on half of the jacket. I lost my balance. Beginning to lean backward I mouthed the word balance while drawing a small straight line with my finger swiftly I was propped back up straight. I finished placing on my jacket, calmly but on boots then zipped my backpack and placed it on my back. Grabbing some amethyst and dried lavender off my altar I made my way through the door making sure to lock it behind me.

"Broom, come" I whispered sweetly. Hearing the familiar sound of the wind moving I readied myself to grab the broom. It came with a breath of cold air. I caught it and stroked its brush. "It must be freezing in the shop. I'm sorry I left you down there all night." I spoke in a hushed voice. The broom made no noise but I could tell it accepted my apology. As I saddled up Wobble voiced his protest, he hates flying but the way I see it he'll get over it one day.

"Up." I commanded. As I began to hover I secretly wished I would beat everyone else there.

[bullet-farmer]

Okay, I’m having a horrible mental-health day and feel overwhelmed by work, and talking about something that’s been bothering me really feels liberating. Because I feel like it’s one thing I can control right now.

Please don’t reblog this or tag it. I don’t want this to become Discourse, especially in an awesome fandom. But I needed to get this out in a space where people I trust can reply if they wish. I’m fine with disagreement and discussion, as long as people respect my feelings, or ask for clarification if they don’t understand what I’m talking about.

This got long. And it’s about pronouns. And fictional characters. And idk.

Another thing that kind of bothers me about assuming they/them or ze/zir for Beelzebub’s pronouns, and why I’m using both less and less*: I’m really uncomfortable with how few authors do the same for any other character (save, of course, for Pollution, whose pronouns are clearly mentioned as they/them and really should be used exclusively, because that’s just the decent thing to do).  Of course, some people use they/them across the board, or pronouns other than she/her and he/him in any combination. But in my experience, authors who do this are quite rare, at least on Ao3. In most cases, I find authors using “gendered” (for lack of a better word) pronouns for everyone else--namely, those that (presumably) match the gender of the actor who plays each role. For example: she/her for Michael and Dagon, and he/him for Hastur and Gabriel. 

I don’t want to make assumptions about why people do this. For one thing, making sweeping generalizations about people is always a bad idea. It’s even a worse idea when talking about why a group as diverse as fanfic authors. For another, I don’t know what is in people’s hearts or minds, and I’d rather not try to arbitrate any thoughts but my own. That said, in the West, we are swimming in a sea of gender essentialism and binarism. And I can’t help but feel that both are somehow in play in this phenomenon.

Angels and demons in Good Omens are nonbinary. But from a binarist point of view, you could say that nearly all of the angels and demons have at least a few stereotypical masculine or feminine qualities. For example: Michael wears makeup, and a very frilly blouse at one point; Michael’s suit and Uriel’s have what we would call a feminine cut. Dagon has long hair in a style we would call feminine, Sandalphon has male-pattern baldness, Hastur has a deep voice and wears “masculine” clothes, etc. 

But Beelzebub breaks this pattern. She’s what people in the West tend to think of when they hear the term “androgynous”: somewhat boyish and youthful in appearance, dressing in typically “masculine” clothes that don’t emphasize her shape, and behaving in a way that many would call more masculine than feminine. To put it another way, she is aggressive, she speaks forcefully, she shows no hallmarks of being a queen or princess, and she entirely lacks subtlety. Women, of course, are socialized to do the exact opposite. Save for her appearance at the airfield, she is also far more unkempt than any character in the series with the possible exception of Hastur.  I’m beginning to see several problems as I go deeper into this deep dive.  First problem: the assumption that “nonbinary” means androgynous or genderless. And, as a subset of that problem, the assumption that androgynous and agender/genderless are synonymous, and that they/them and ze/zir are “genderless” pronouns. For some people, they very much are. For others, they are not. (For example, a blogger I follow identifies as a cis woman and uses both she/her and they/them).  Second problem: The fact that a character played by an actress simply must be agender or “not female” because said character is androgynous and behaves in stereotypically “masculine” ways.  Third problem: ...Why are we only insisting on they/them or ze/zir for the dirtiest, least conventionally attractive character in the show? I mean, being dirty and unkempt isn’t a stereotypically nonbinary trait, but considering how society sees women who don’t obsess over their looks as “not real women,” this has some very unfortunate implications to me. Fourth problem: Y’all, Neil didn’t say that Beelzebub would probably use they/them as pronouns. He said “zir” (and to be honest, I think that was him being witty rather than making an official statement). I understand that some people can uses these interchangeably to describe themselves, but they really aren’t interchangeable. And acting like they are, strikes me as basically saying “well, these are all nongendered pronouns, so just pick whichever you like best when talking about someone.” Imagine calling someone whose pronouns are they/them, “ze/zir” and thinking that isn’t misgendering or upsetting. I also don’t see posts that insist we respect any other character as nonbinary--particularly characters like, say, Hastur, Ligur, or Gabriel. (Perhaps I’m mistaken, but I really feel like people are even more hesitant to call more “masculine” characters nonbinary than they are Dagon, Michael, etc. Which also strikes me as having really unfortunate implications. But that’s a whole other post.) Or regular use of “Nonbinary Character” and “Canon Nonbinary Character” tags on AO3 for any other demon or angel.  All of this is really starting to get to me as a nonbinary/genderfluid person who absolutely does not see myself as agender or androgynous, even if people regularly describe my looks as “masculine” for reasons I’ll get into in a second. I’m genderfluid and nonbinary because I do not fully or consistently identify with the gender I was assigned at birth--and because I never have. While some days I feel fine with having society see me as a cis woman, some days I am deeply not okay with it--and am actually dysphoric because my body doesn’t look more stereotypically androgynous. However, when I realized that stereotypical androgyny is a concept that cisheterocentric society forces on nonbinary people--and DFAB people in particular--my dysphoria became a bit more manageable.  I also do not attend to my appearance. I have no interest in wearing makeup, flattering clothes, or even feminine ones. I wear skirts for comfort; I’ve always hated pants because of sensory issues, but if I didn’t, I’d probably wear a lot of “men’s” clothes. As it is, I wear T-shirts cut for men, rather than the fitted versions for women. And baggy clothes that men can get away with wearing, but women not so much. I don’t regularly style my hair despite having it long. I don’t shave any part of my body--which began upsetting people when I was twelve, y’all. Adults constantly bothered me about it, and about looking more feminine and stylish. I may be the only “girl” on the planet whose father encouraged her to wear shorter skirts and more flattering tops when she was in her early teens.

It really upset me, but at the time I had no language for why--other than that I felt pushed and harassed. Thankfully, people have since mostly cut that shit out, but when you deal with it as a child, it really leaves some scars and some gender confusion--a fact I only realized while typing this out! Of course, I don’t believe that any of these life choices inherently make anyone any particular gender. But society thinks differently. To it, I’m a failure as a woman, and when you add on the fact that I’m nearing forty, childfree, offbeat, clueless about ‘appropriate” interactions with men, and loud and messy because of ADHD, I’m labeled as even less of a woman. I would have no problem with this if it didn’t come with the pejorative baggage. I have never been a girl or a woman, though I feel I share enough in common with this gender to be comfortable having it be part of my identity to some degree. Even as a child, I felt this but I had no name for it because no one was talking about trans issues in a conservative red state in the 80s and 90s, and they sure as fuck wouldn’t have done it around kids. I didn’t even hear the word “nonbinary” until the early 2010s.  All of this also means that I don’t get many characters or images that represent me. Again, media portrayals of people like me (DFAB and not consistently woman-identifying) are so rare that Beelzebub is the ONLY one I have found in my adult life who isn’t, you know, the butt of a joke about viragos and lesbians who are too ugly to get a man, and “undateables.” So having people insist that using she/her is somehow misgendering is...well, I get that it’s not directed at me. That it isn’t about me personally. That it isn’t meant to hurt me. That it is a lot of nonbinary people and genderfluid people talking about their own experiences. I know all of that, and I don’t begrudge people their feelings. But it still kind of hurts when they disapprove of disagreement. And it makes me worry that fewer people will read my fic, and may accuse me of misgendering if they do, even if I always “warn” for pronouns. I’m even hesitant to make posts like this or to refer to Beelzebub as she/her in casual conversation. Which, well...kind of makes me feel like I do in life. Almost no one but my therapists knows I’m not cis, because I don’t think I could explain it to them without causing confusion and some distress. Which I don’t want to cause and don’t have the spoons to deal with, especially when my own gender issues are so complicated and unclear even to me.

I also just don’t have the spoons to deal with people for assuming I’m a cis, straight girl writing a hetero relationship when I use she/her in most of my Beelzefic. And to be honest, I’m just sort of hurt at the inconsistency around pronouns and the issues said inconsistency raise for me. 

I mean, like I said, I know this isn’t personal, and I do my best to keep that in mind. But I don’t like having to hold my thoughts in because they might upset other genderfluid and nonbinary people.** I have to do that enough in my life already as a queer person, and as a mentally ill person whose feelings are not always appropriate to the situation. Having to hold them in here, too, feels really unfair and frustrating to me, and kind of like I can’t be myself even in LGBTQ+ spaces. so... tl;dr  Use whatever pronouns for Beelzebub you like, or no pronouns at all. I am not the pronoun police, and I would never tell anyone what to do with their writing. But please don’t accuse people of misgendering if they do otherwise, or mistreat them if they do, or make assumptions about them or their reasons. You don’t know who they are or what experience they’re writing from, just as they don’t know who you are and your experiences. I guess that’s it. thank you. 

* Yes, I am aware of what Neil said on the subject. I’m genderfluid and allowed to disagree and to present an alternate view. ** I really don’t care too much about cisgender folks’ opinions on this issue. I’m sorry, but I don’t. Especially when cisgender people opine about what pronouns we should use for a character. I’m glad that they’re concerned and think they’re trying admirably to be good allies, but this really is an in-house and stay-in-your-lane issue. 

[lonely-pages-of-ink]

Tomorrow’s Hero

i realized i haven’t made an official post about my novel for Nanowrimo. My novel is called Tomorrow’s Hero about a young spy named Ivy.

the whole thing’s a potluck of junk like

Mafia/Secret Society/Spies

Dystopian Future

Magic Realism

Adventure/YA

Twist on The Chosen One Trope

Fantasy

CHARACTERS

Ivy (Code name: Dove) - Main Character

She’s a trained assasin/spy that’s just doing her best to clean up this dying world while keeping her partner alive. Blair, who she’s been training with for years, is the only person she trusts with her real name. She’s not the most feminine woman, in fact she’s been discribed as masculine from her broad shoulders and flat chest (easier to fit in small areas, she says) but she doesn’t care. She’s just worried about seeing another tomorrow

Quote: “I don’t believe in happy endings, you gotta make the ending you want with your own two hands.”

Blair (Code name: Finch) - Ivy’s Partner

They’re always by Ivy’s side, happy and teasing but can be rather cold and grumpy to others. They’re good with guns, like really good. They have a habit of knocking out people who purposefully misgender them and shooting people who sneak up on them. They think they’re hilarious and they can be cruel but they’re sweet deep down and they have a soft spot for kids

Quote: “Never trust anyone, especially if that person is me.”

Black - Leader of The Good

She is the founder and leader of The Good, a secret society trying to put the world back together. She is pretty mysterious and keeps all information about her under tight raps, her real name unknown to almost everyone. Some people even doubt that’s she’s even a woman. She’s tough and sometimes seen as ruthless or cold but she’s doing the best she can with what she’s got

Quote: “It’s a dog eat dog world out there, so get out of my way before you’re eaten alive.”

White - Black’s Right Hand Man

They’re probably the must unknown character, almost no one has seen them and lived to tell the tale. They’re very good at their job and protect Black with their life, rarely leaving her side. White is the highest ranking Color besides Black and is in the most inner circle of the elite

Quote: “I get that you’re trying to save the world and everything, but could you do it less idiotically?”

There’s more characters i love and will continue to develope but those are the main ones

In this story, it’s placed at the end of the world as what everyone assumes the apocalypse is and as it became clear that something was wrong, roles started to appear. Magic has always been apart of their lives in small ways but now it was spreading and becoming more powerful than anyone’s seen before. People who learned to use magic are The Divine, or sometimes refered to as Mags, and some of these people view themselves to be above others, forming a group called Phenomenon that overthrow whatever shambles of a government was left and tries to rule a dying world. People without magic are The Ordinary, people who can’t learn like The Divine. Sprites are born with magic, being able to control it from birth while there were some who had magic but are unable to control it. Violent bursts and fits of chaos that mark these poor souls as Hellions. The Good’s rankings are new recruits or rookies are given names from precious gemstones, the next group are trained and experienced with names from birds. Then there’s the top eiltes, whether they’re the best fighters or the most powerful Mags, they’re the Colors.

Everything is going wrong, from lakes drying up into deserts to the complete shifts in seasons, people spiraling out of control and into complete madness. There’s only one hope for stopping this total destruction,The Chosen One.

Except no one knows who they might be or how to find them.

i’m so exited for this and i haven’t slept in a while, please love my children

[xoaashlee]

Chapter 5: Gender

Looking at the second powerpoint on chapter 5 was very interesting. I’m very interested in the different pronouns that people choose to identify by and how they came to the conclusion of what they do identity by. Getting a little more personal, but going by they/them myself, I know sometimes it doesn’t take a long, drawn on explanation to simply say that I don’t identify with my womanhood, and I don’t identify with any form of manhood. I don’t enjoy the things that society has casted onto women that would be considered ladylike, like motherhood. I don’t enjoy having breasts or a uterus, none of it appeals to be, other than the fact of being feminine. I like to get my lashes done, get my hair, nails and feet done, but other than my gender expression looking more feminine most of the time, womanhood is not something that I can consciously identify with. Truthfully, growing up I felt very awkward as a girl, I thought long and hard to myself for a good portion of my childhood about if I wasn’t actually a girl, but a boy. I now know that isn’t the case either, but the concept of possibly transitioning was a thought I had in the back of my mind way before the new invention of social media and its take on gender. It wasn’t a difficult process realizing that I’m non-binary. I just realized that, autonomy aside, that being a woman felt super uncomfortable to me, and it never really felt like “me”, but neither did the idea of being a man. The idea of being a man was especially uncomfortable for me, before my pronouns were they/them, I tried to see if they/he/she would do me some good with not completely abandoning my biological sex. But expressing my pronouns with “he” in it made me so uncomfortable in the sense that I almost felt predatory talking to women and giving compliments, because so many men have made me feel uncomfortable with their compliments and the idea of identifying with some sort of manhood made me automatically think that I was also being predatory and potentially making others uncomfortable. Not a good outlook that I have on men, I know, but that ultimately helped me realize that one thing in my process of figuring out my gender identity.

Another thing with my gender identity now is my title to all family members, using gender neutral terms referring to me is going to be a hard adjustment. Everyone is already accustomed to the nicknames “mama”, “daughter” or “baby girl”, and while I do love these names to be called, it just reminds me overall that nobody actually believes that I’m non-binary. I told my mom, for example, because I know she’s open minded and this wouldn’t be a foreign concept for her as she works in diversity, equity, and inclusion. All she said to my confession was “alright”, and went right to misgendering me, calling me her daughter, “she”, etc. I would understand if I told my dad and he just completely forgot or ignored it (as bad as that sounds) because he has no knowledge on this concept whatsoever, but with my mom literally working in inclusion, working to make feel people seen and recognized, it kind of sucks to know she doesn’t treat her own child that way at home. This is probably one of the main reasons I haven’t told many other adults in my life, simply because it won’t really matter in the long run, I’m still a girl in everyone’s minds and there’s no real changing that. Among my friends, though? I get much more consideration and respect as far as that goes, and we all talk about our gender identity very often. We talk about gender neutral terms that we can use in the future, like “pibling” when you’re someone’s sibling’s child (niece or nephew), “unty/untie” as someone’s gender neutral aunt, even “quibling” as someone’s queer sibling. As you can see, these names aren’t very appealing to anyone, and are probably rarely used because of how awkward it sounds, but it’s nice to possibly be able to be called one of these names in the future, even though I might actually just prefer “sibling”, “aunt”, “niece”, haha.

Overall, I’m very happy with my gender identity and the process of which I came to realize I was non-binary. I’m happy I realize that gender identity and gender expression don’t have to go hand-in-hand for me to be able to still look and sometimes want to present as feminine, but that still doesn’t mean I’m a woman. Living in this society today on the topic of gender is probably one of the best times to be living, although there are a lot of downsides to our society today, we are still living in a relatively accepting society, and there are so many allies that fight for people like me to be able to openly identify, even if it doesn’t fully make sense to others.

[sunyoonandstars]

Hi! I'm also new to the family and I'm already in love with all of them, they're all so amazing , generous and gorgeous, that sometimes I wonder if they're even real ,you know? And I was wondering if there's something I should definitely know about the boys? Or something you think I should know? Thank you for being so sweet and kind to us all, you're the best!!

I can totally understand that you already have them in your heart! 💜 I was lost the very second I started researching interviews. They’re all just so genuine and amazing in their own ways. 

What you should definitely know about the boys … In general? They’re incredibly hard-working and dedicated to their work and fandom. They love us, their fans, and miss no chance to let us know how grateful they are for our continuing support. They started out pretty young, especially Jungkook, and have been living together since their trainee days (over 7 years ago). They also repeatedly stated – a fact that seems especially important to Yoongi – that they don’t plan on changing that anytime soon, even though by now they are surely old and ‘rich’ enough to be living by themselves. They consider each other family, they deeply care about, rely upon and are always there for each other. There is so, so, so much more, what I’m sure you’ll find out through watching interviews or videos like Run BTS!, Bts Gayo, Bangtan Bomb … 

And what I personally think you should know about each of the members for starters:

1. Kim Seokjin / Jin 

the ‘mother’ of BTS 

mentioned that he doesn’t like being misgendered, so it’s not intended as a nickname but merely as a description of the role he occupies within the group (he protectively cares for the members in an almost mother-like way [e.g. loves to cook for them] especially, the younger ones, and never misses out on a chance to jokingly lament over the fact that he virtually ‘raised Jungkook on his back’) 

DO NOT call him eomma/mom or ‘princess Jin’, as some fans used to because he does not feel comfortable about it! 

is mostly responsible for/adamant about keeping the dorm clean (or at least that was the case in their first dorm, back when they used to share a room and sleep in bunk beds. Now they have staff who regularly cleans their new, more luxurious apartment, I believe. Or at least I think Yoongi mentioned something similar in a radio interview/podcast once.) 

king of nagging 

DAD JOKES 

he has a driver’s license 

family: parents + older brother 

Yoongi once called him a “family man” and an “ideal husband” in an interview 

Jin once stated that he would want his firstborn to be a girl and the second child to be a boy so his son would have a noona (older sister) that would treat him kindly and that the boy could look up to since he was often being teased by his hyung (older brother) 

last year his parents gifted him the most adorable pet sugar gliders 

WORLDWIDE HANDSOME

BROAD SHOULDERS (especially for Korean standards apparently)

considers his face (jokingly?) his greatest asset 

but underneath it all he is still very insecure (I believe)

likes hearing others call him cute or handsome 

loves doing aegyo 

actually needs (rather strong) glasses but doesn’t like wearing them because he can’t feel confident when doing so 

recently seems to ponder beginning his a career as a hairstylist??? 😳

should stay away from scissors in the future … 

has the most genuine, beautiful, infectious, hilarious windshield laugh 

often laughs until he literally tears up 

because he freaking loves to laugh

and even more to make others laugh 

does not mind making a fool of himself in doing so 

was literally cast off the street 

a member of the staff spotted him walking by and reportedly started running after him because he was so handsome even back then

graduated from college (majored in acting) 

alongside RM (Namjoon), he is considered the worst dancer of BTS

yet he is among the hardest-working members because he previously didn't have any kind of background/experience in either dancing or singing (was cast as a ‘visual’) 

and because of that he is very hard on himself 

has improved a lot since debut 

but is not being given enough credit, appreciation, and lines

he loves cooking and food and eating

EAT JIN 🍜

and once was put on a heartbreaking diet (like all idols at some point, probably, but still, it must’ve been incredibly hard on him) and was repeatedly told by his managers he was fat/chubby 😤 (WHERE? I demand to know…) 

SIGNATURE: enthusiastically blowing kisses upon kisses upon kisses + HEART EVENTS 

because he is simply the sweetest angel there is

2. Min Yoongi / Suga

the grumpy grandpa of BTS 

but also more of a ‘father’ 

because he is practically the dorm’s handyman (usually responsible for changing light bulbs and stuff)   

good at working with his hands and fixing things (which RM previously broke …) 

MOTIONLESS MIN (because on his [rare] days off he likes to do literally nothing)

strives to be stone in his next lifetime 

likes to sleep (A LOT) and is always tired

can literally sleep anywhere 

probably because he likes to work/is especially creative at night (once said most his songs are produced between midnight and 6:00am) 

insanely talented lyricist/rapper/producer 

actually did not audition to become an idol but to become a producer at Big Hit and work behind the scenes 

AGUST D ❗️

claims he got his stage/nickname ‘Suga’ because of his pale complexion and his sweet smile (’wanted to promote sweetly’) 

despite his ‘bad boy’ image/attitude (especially on-stage) 

his hometown is Daegu (which is what the ‘D’ in AGUST D stands for) 

his family also consist of parents + older brother 

he moved to Seoul on his own back pre-debut 

starved for a few months so he could keep on producing/working on his music and career while living off of under-payed part-time jobs 

during that time he developed anxiety (suffered several attacks, even in BTS’ earlier days after debut) and depression (which he openly addresses on his AGUST D mixtape. If you haven’t already you should really give it a listen and study the translated lyrics.) 

writes/composes songs every day and can do so everywhere, even in crowded public places 

he relieves stress through writing/composing songs 

doesn’t like going outside and repeatedly stated he ‘doesn’t like people’ (I believe he refers to being around many strangers/in crowded and loud places)

prefers to stay at home 

so his ideal date would also be a comfortable night in 

Yoongi is usually on the quieter side 

but when he speaks up, damn, you can be sure he has something to say 

wise beyond his age 

great common/general knowledge 

very outspoken and straightforward  (’savage Suga’/’savage Yoongi’) 

so it’s his task to openly scold the younger members and call them out on their questionable behavior 

does have his silly/hyped-up moments, though 

and they are priceless

can occasionally actually let loose 

but it happens rather rarely 

always seems to be very observant and contemplative 

GUMMY SMILE 

HIS SHRUG  

MIN GENIUS 

workaholic 

tends to overwork himself and neglect self-care/sleep/his health (forgets to eat/skips a lot of meals) 

his studio is called the ‘Genius Lab’

seems to regularly put himself on a diet?? he seems to be getting skinnier and skinnier, or is it only me, guys?? 

claims he doesn’t give a shit

but he actually does 

cares a lot about the people close to him, simply doesn’t show it so obviously 

does not seem too big on showing it through physical contact, too (once said himself in an interview that he wouldn’t be the kind of boyfriend to hold hands or put his arm around his s/o’s shoulder in public because he isn’t the sweet kind of boyfriend like that) 

takes care of them ‘behind the scenes’/’in secret’ 

beneath the gruff exterior, he’s just a huge softie 

used to play basketball in high school and was quite good at it, too

he is second smallest in the group (a few centimeters taller than our mochi Jimin)

which sometimes leads him to jump in order to get into the frame when they are taking group shots at award shows and such (it’s adorable) 

does not particularly enjoy physical activities and the way they tire him out 

loves meat 

can actually cook quite well but isn’t as vocal about it as Jin 

also takes cooking very seriously (see Run BTS! Ep. 36, for example) 

tends to speak in Satoori dialect when he’s nervous 

doesn’t consider himself handsome/charming 

wants to become even more successful and for his music to reach as many people as possible 

Waaaah ….. These turned out longer than expected. I’ll do the other members, too, later on, sweet anon. And maybe repost this as a real headcanon or something tomorrow. For now I, unfortunately, have to go to sleep because it’s 02:30am here and I have to get up in 4 hours … 😁

I hope this helped/was at least close to what you imagined, anon! Take care and feel free to message me anytime!! 💜

[eeveelutionsforequality]

Hey mods, I’m gonna preface this by saying that if you can’t answer this that’s understandable. I’m a trans guy that’s been out (to varying degrees) for a little under 3 years now, but whenever somebody misgenders or deadnames me I always have a really hard time correcting them. I get this irrational fear that they’ll get super mad at me, or that they’re really transphobic and will harass/attack me. Do you have any tips for gaining confidence in correcting people? Thanks!

I think it really depends upon the context, like, how to act, how to react, how safe it is, what to say, how to get the confidence - they're all things that you tend to have to judge on a case by case basis. There are some situations where I don't correct because it's a random shopkeeper that I'll never see again, so it's ultimately just an effort that I don't personally feel the need to exert (it triggers dysphoria when they do it, obviously, but it's already been triggered by the time I need to correct them, so I'd rather scan my stuff and leave than dwell on that moment).

When it comes to my family, with my birthname, we found a compromise - when I was younger they often used to shorten my birthname to one of two masculine nicknames. I let them call me those nicknames now - I know that my family doesn't like the name that I picked for myself, or my reasons for picking that particular name, so I don't force them to call me that, especially since there's another viable option.

My family does misgender me consistently, and rather than correcting them on it I talked to them about how they feel - they told me that they accept me, that they value me as me, and they did the typical "I don't think of you as a girl or a boy, you're just you" speech, and I know it came from a good place even if it's a cliché that can sound invalidating. The way I see it, they're not thinking about gender, it's not on their minds like it is for me - to them "she" is just the natural word to say because it's what they've said for two and a half decades, it doesn't mean "I think of you as a girl" in their heads, there's no depth or underlying meaning behind their use of the word.

However, they do make little efforts to validate my identity or to show that they do support me - they buy me mugs or towels with "mr" or "his" on them, for example. If I jokingly say something like "I hope you don't expect me to wear a dress to the funeral." they'll say something like "It's a funeral not a drag show. Just wear your usual emo shit." They'll often say something like "typical bloke" if they catch me looking at an attractive woman on the TV or if I burp after a meal.

So yeah, I had a lot more success just talking to my family and being casual about it - showing that I appreciate the little things that they do, and finding middle-grounds and understandings rather than just expecting them to be fully capable of meeting all of my needs - but I don't actually correct them at all.

Ultimately, I don't know the people in your life, I don't know what tactics to use, how to talk to them, what they think, so I can't really tell you how to broach the topic with them or how to word the corrections. I think people disagree on the etiquette of it all too - like, some people interrupt, some just cough, some say "You said 'she'" at the end, while some say "It's 'he'", some go passive-aggressive, some go sympathetic, some like an apology, and some (like me) really dislike having too much attention drawn to it.

Sometimes I'll correct people in casual, safe social situations, like if I'm hanging out with friends of friends - but even that's rare, it's more likely that they either notice somebody else calling me 'he' and catch on, or my friends correct them for me. Sometimes I correct people in "official" situations, like when somebody on the phone says "Can I speak to Mr [awesome name]?" and I say "That's me!" because I've no other choice (and even those aren't definites, like I've actually said "Sorry, he's not in right now!" on a call to my MOBILE PHONE to get out of dealing with it). If I can avoid correcting, I will - I don't correct plumbers who look temporarily confused at the name on the form before they decide that they aren't paid enough to care, I don't correct doctors who literally have my medical records right in front of them (my brain just goes "They're probably having a rough day, it's a rough job, this has nothing to do with me, I'll let it slide" - it's not empathy, I have no clue if they're actually stressed, I'm just like "If I convince myself that they are then I'll feel better").

In fact, I once had a very long phone call for a bill or something where I tried to correct the person on the other end, they didn't believe me, I tried again, they still didn't, and eventually they came to the conclusion that "my dad" had given me the answers to the security questions so that I could pretend to be him while he was passed out drunk. I was so fed up that I just went with it, and because I had the answers to the security questions it didn't really matter, they had to allow my fictional seven year-old daughter to take the call. I ended up pretending to be my own non-existent child, who was failing at pretending to be me.

Another time, a transphobe decided to protest my pronouns in an LGBT+ group that I volunteered at, by interrupting anyone who said "he" and incorrecting it to "she" - my friends and strangers alike. It was annoying more than anything, like, people were trying to have a casual conversation and they kept getting interrupted and sidetracked into dumb arguments, regardless of whether I was even there that day. I don't think I ever responded to it, I don't think I had ever even corrected him in the first place. I would just blank him, but my friends would bite the bait and try to defend me... in the end, that just gave him what he wanted.

Anyway, as you can probably tell, I'm not very confrontational - I prefer to either remind myself of why that person's opinion doesn't matter, or talk myself into believing that the person doesn't have any ill intentions behind the misgendering, rather than making an effort that (for me) costs more than it pays.

So, with that in mind, my advice for you is that there's always another possible reason that somebody misgendered you - a slip-up, stress, tiredness, they've got a lisp and they actually are saying the other pronoun and somehow you can't notice it on any other word... I'm pretty good at convincing myself that it isn't personal. Maybe getting into the mindset that "misgendering = mistake" and out of the mindset that "misgendering = transphobia" could help make it easier for you not to feel afraid, and thus make it easier for you to feel comfortable correcting people - more often than not, it is just an honest mistake. It's very contextual, but there's almost always other behaviours or a pattern to the misgendering, an overt maliciousness, in cases of transphobia - a couple of instances of potentially accidental misgendering don't mean anything, and it no more indicates transphobia than calling a zebra a giraffe by mistake indicates hatred of zebras.

I think it comes down to assessing the situation, asking yourself "Is this worth it? Am I ever going to see this person again?" and then asking yourself "Is this a conversation that I want to start with a correction, or do I want to bring it up separately?" - a twenty-something at a party is probably open-minded enough that "Oh it's 'he'!" will be met with "Okay, cool!" and that'll be that, but your grandma might need a gentler approach the first time. If they already know, and it's just them slipping into old habits, ask yourself "Is it worth interrupting this conversation, or should I let this one slide and then bring it up at a later date if it keeps happening?" - if it's a casual chat with a sentence or two each, then it's easy to add in just a "he" without ruining the flow or seeming impolite, but if they're sobbing in your arms as they tell you the story of a tragic argument that they had then it's probably best to let that one slide. You know what I mean?

Like, I try to treat it the same as I would treat them saying "for all intensive purposes" instead of "for all intents and purposes" - and that way, if I don't correct them then in my head it's just a grammatical error that I didn't correct, it doesn't mean anything.

Most people aren't transphobic, like the most likely reaction for you to get will be "Okay" in a variation of tones... sometimes it's "Okay!" sometimes it's "Ooookaaaay".

Think of it this way: If somebody walked up to you in public and said "I am a self-confessed transphobe, I hate those transgenders, they are terrible." would you start yelling at them, would you harass them, or would you just be like "Ooookaaaay"? People don't tend to kick off or act ridiculous, in person at least, regardless of how they feel or how much they hate you. There's a really small chance that the person actually has a negative opinion of trans people in the first place, but even if they do then they're not going to attack you, they'll just say an exaggerated "Ooookaaaay" or maybe raise their eyebrows.

Sure, there are some people out there who will be shitty and rude - a really tiny proportion of people who just have no personality and rely on making everybody around them uncomfortable to validate their "I have the unpopular opinion and that means that I'm right" complex. Those people don't deserve a second of your attention or any of your happiness, just blank them. They just want attention, they want to get a reaction out of you, they want to wind somebody up - apathy hurts dickheads more than anything, just count to ten and remind yourself that their opinion of you should mean as little to you as my opinion of The Queen means to her. Let it slide, and give your energy and attention to those who earn it.

At the end of the day, it's better to focus on the good, to encourage the good. You should be surrounded by people who respect you for who you are and refer to you as you want to be referred to - it's what you want, it's what you deserve - find those people, spend time with those people, and feel free to cut out anybody who responds cruelly to a polite correction. Politely correcting people who care about you is helping them to be able to help you, helping them treat you how they want to treat you.

Remind yourself that the people in your life love you, the people who deserve to be in your life love you, that they want to refer to you correctly, but that people can't learn if you allow them to keep repeating the mistakes without even pointing them out. You wouldn't let a child keep ending sentences with commas, you'd tell them each time they did it and say "You need to put a full stop there" - that's all you're doing when you correct these people.

They might struggle, they might need reminding a lot - just be gentle, polite, patient, and understanding.

TL;DR - don't put so much weight on it, don't mentally view misgendering as a sign of transphobia, there are so many reasons that it could have happened and everybody makes mistakes, it's just a grammatical error, most people aren't transphobic, people tend to conceal their feelings and behave appropriately even if they are, the people who love you want to learn and you're just helping them do so, but you possibly asked the wrong person because I literally allowed someone to think that I was a neglectful alcoholic father to avoid the hassle of continuing to correct them.

~ Vape

[rtmsyoo]

character questionnaire // sunny

tl;dr // sunny is... not all that sad but also... kinda sad... this got away from me... tw: emotional abuse tw, parental neglect tw, death tw, drugs tw, misgendering tw

BASICS

full name: sunyoung yoo ( SUN (善) - goodness; virtuous / YOUNG (英) - flower / YOO (劉) - family name without any meaning but in Hanja, it can also mean ‘to kill or destroy’ )

nicknames: sunny, artemis

age: 22 (turning 23 this year)

birthday/zodiac sign: september 5th 1994 / virgo

height: 6′1 because someone drank their milk before bed every night and did their jumps and stretches, though this may be subject to change if tiny boy bastien asks for an inch or two. can’t even begin to tell you how much of an advantage it was in all the sports she joined

tattoos/piercings: her ears are pierced but the only pair of earrings she owns are cookie monster ones and even those, she doesn’t really wear much or at all; this armband tattoo on her upper right arm with the hangul letters of her name written on the inside;  this tattoo on her lower arm but the big star is replaced by a sun (the sun being apollo and because apollo he is the light of sunny’s life; the moon as sunny; julian as the planet that orbits the two and because it’s adorable like he is; the lightning bolt as morpheus cause they came into her life unexpectedly and they are just as deadly but just as beautiful to witness); this tattoo wrapping around her right wrist she both because loves animals and also in memory of her old dog brandy rip you were a good bitch; the words ‘inhale’ and ‘exhale’ tattooed on the inside of her feet because they were the instructions repeatedly told her in all of the sports she participated in and also what helped get her through her anxiety; honestly she would love to have more done but those are the only ones for now

FAVORITES

sound: wind whistling through the grass and leaves. she really feels the most peaceful when she’s lying on her back in a field, staring up at the sky; day or night, it doesn’t matter, she typically starts when the sun is still high and ends with the moon already up among the stars anyway. sunny loves being barefoot on the grass and feeling it between her toes. if she ever does get around to leaving new york, she would love for it to be somewhere with a lot of space for her to run and hide in, and lot more grass for her to press her ear close to and pretend that they’re singing a song. she also loves any sound any animal makes and will turn to putty whenever tiny puppies yip up at her

color: black, green, yellow. black is more of a personal preference, it’s almost always present in any ensemble she’s in. green relies on constancy: it’s there in her favorite places. yellow because she feels it a part of who she is: sunny, sun, brightness.

person: @apollokarlsson​ how you doin’? @jullybeans​ @metamorpheus​ HIT ME WITH THAT FOUND FAMILY TROPE SHOOT IT STRAIGHT INTO MY VEINS I DON’T CARE

memory: being introduced to apollo. now, she knows that she was a little too young that the details of her memory may not be exactly accurate, but her emotions during and about it are so visceral that she’s convinced there’s really no other version of what happened other than how she remembers it. there was such a beautiful glow about apollo that day, sunny could’ve sworn they were an angel, a halo hovering above their head. this was at the height of her solitude too: her mother had abandoned her, her father worked and was absent more than ever, so that may have contributed to it, but the fact that apollo was quick to take her hand, quick to be a sibling that she never really thought or imagined she would have. a part of her had worried that it was all just for show, that the moment their father and their stepmother left, apollo would switch gears and be someone intimidating - the age gap between them certainly didn’t help - but the kindness that was shown that day never faltered and that really did make life at home so much bearable for sunny. in the blink of an eye, it didn’t matter that none of her athletic accomplishments ever amount to anything for her parents - when apollo saw the trophies and the medals that littered her room, the pride in their eyes more than compensated for it and motivated her to do even better. everything felt that much easier and brighter so when apollo’s problems started catching up to them, it was also the toughest and saddest memory of hers to watch that halo dip into dimness

place: please refer to favorite sound. sunny also loves being in their apartment when both apollo and julian are there, she just loves watching the three of them exist around each other, playful and happy, as though they don’t exist in a world where they’re surrounded by so much danger and misery. if someone had told her before when they were still only dealing to julian that he would end up living with them, sunny would’ve scoffed and said ‘........... okay guy’ but now it’s like. was it ever not like this? simply imagining the alternate reality where julian never moved in and apollo was taken away, leaving her all by herself, well... it’s not fun. her room can also fit in here. it’s sparsely decorated and she also impulsively bought a privacy pop tent that she uses when she’s in a particularly bad mood and wants to - literally and figuratively - black it all out.

vice: does “running to cross the street because she saw someone walking their dog and just had to pet it” count as a vice? she drinks very limitedly to the point where it often feels like the first time again when she finally does, she doesn’t do drugs and she doesn’t smoke - her father did and it was a habit that she hated suffering through when they were together. it’s possible that she does have the vice of being in denial. sunny has the tendency to ignore her problems in favor of being more optimistic and lighthearted, and it has resulted in this slow bubbling of anger inside her that she comes to let out through her athletic pursuits: if you see her aggressively running full pelt down an oval, music blaring through her headphone and her teeth grit. and if she invites you to play soccer with her with her eyebrows furrowed, don’t say yes. if red cards are a thing during friendlies, sunny would be down for the count three times over. it’s tough for her to address the darker issues that cloud her life, opting to let them sort themselves out. when apollo left and it was just her and julian in the apartment, all the unsaid things hovered between them until julian slowly started showing signs that he was going to stand by her through that difficult time. truth be told, sunny had half thought he would want to leave, distance himself from their misfortune, but he stood by her through her ‘i don’t want to talk to anyone or do anything’ phase. when things don’t get solved on their own, sunny just believes in letting it all die down and be forgotten.

HAVE THEY EVER…

been in love: nah. the only time that she’s ever been “romantically involved” with someone was with one of her past teammates in swimming. they were the two most intense members of the team so they trained with each other the most, pushed each other in every race, and somehow, without their even planning it, naturally fell into hanging out with each other afterward, aimlessly wandering the city or catching a movie. it never was explicitly defined, though sunny knew that it was most likely because they didn’t have anyone else to be with. they carried the semblance of being close friends, even had sleepovers some nights and kissed a number of times, but after graduation, it all was still unspoken and they simply parted ways. they still text sometimes, she knows that the other went on to continue swimming, playing for university of georgia. if being in love is something that sunny is capable of or something that she allows herself to be, it may not happen anytime soon

done drugs: only weed, never to excess and very rarely. it’s the remnants of her athletic career during her school years: she’d followed the strict instructions to take care of her body to a tee, so she never really went through that adolescent phase of trying things for the first time with a group of friends, carrying that through to her life after. it was only after she left home and moved in with apollo and dionysus did she get to really be around drugs, but even then she hesitated and was only convinced because she was told it would help with her anxiety. she did terribly with smoking a blunt - she didn’t seal it properly at all and it all came undone when she tried to take a hit; after she fixed it, she then pulled on it too long and gave herself a coughing fit - so pot brownies it is! whoever thought to combine chocolate and weed should obviously be given the nobel prize

killed someone: no, though sunny does acknowledge that she’s probably (read: definitely) capable of it, and has at times felt a certain build up of rage deep within her when it comes to certain people or certain issues. she’s not naive enough to think that it’s beyond her... or anyone, she knows that everyone has that point or that topic where they can just snap, but she does like to think of herself still leaning towards the side of the Universal Good where killing is bad all the time. not that that’s stopped her from trying to learn how to hold and use a gun from morpheus, but that doesn’t instantly mean that she’s going to shoot it or that she’s going to swing a fist. self defense will always be her primary motivation when it comes to this topic... for now. (wink wink nudge nudge future hitman sunny yoo)

betrayed someone’s trust: being able to betray someone’s trust would entail that she forms a lot of connections to begin with, and sunny doesn’t really have that. all the people in her youth were merely passing - teammates, schoolmates, acquaintances - and none of them gave her their full trust to begin with, for betrayal to even be an option. of the handful of people that do reside in her life now, sunny has never once thought of going against them or turning her back on them. once they’ve made it through the difficult phase of becoming close and important to her, she latches on and becomes dangerously selfless and sacrificing for their sake. 

had their heart broken: romantically, not really. sunny has never formed that kind of attachment towards someone before. in general though, yes. she can still distinctly remember the first time that she came home with a trophy in hand, still clad in her sweaty track suit and medals slung around her neck. it was easy to forget how painful it had been for her to turn to the stands, searching for their familiar faces and finding none, but in the throes of victory, sunny was quick to forget that. and she shouldn’t have, she really should have taken that as a sign and not expected more. when the three of them sat down to dinner together - one of the rare times that they did, another reason that the occasion should have been a happy one - she’d eagerly presented the trophy to her mother, who barely glanced at it before passing it on, the cogs in her mind turning to come up with a comment. her father looked at the trophy and asked her ‘was there any prize money?’ which caught her by surprise, only able to reply no after a minute of gathering herself. that’s when he told her that it wasn’t really a win if they just gave her a trophy: what good was a trophy? just something to look at, something to show, she couldn’t get anything out of it. then her mother hit her with admonishments: how it would mess up her body, make her look like a man, make her lose her appeal to potential suitors. sunny not only didn’t bother defending herself, but she also apologized and took the trophy back, keeping it by her bedside table for only her to see. in the years following, she never came to expect anything out of them anymore, and any recognition she received were stacked up in her bedroom closet.

lost someone: (tw death) the closest that sunny has come to death is through some of her schoolmates getting into a drunken accident and one of them passing away, there isn’t enough numbers in her family for her to really be able to lose someone with a sense of finality. perhaps the only person that she’s ever really lost - though she doesn’t know if it’s permanently, the woman does have the tendency to flit in and out of people’s lives and steal parts of it with her bUT WHO’S BITTER NOT SUNNY - is her mother, and that isn’t even something that she mourns about (or maybe she’s sad about it but, if you refer to her vice, she’s deeply in denial about it too). for her to lose that relationship means that there was even one to begin with, and though it’s something of a feat for her to think that her mother decided to keep her after her father got her pregnant, that doesn’t really mean that much of anything came afterward, that was the extent of her mother’s maternal instincts. if she goes by gut instinct, sunny is convinced that after her mother ditched a while back without a word of goodbye, she’s likely out of the state or maybe even out of the country, but that doesn’t stop her from worrying that the two of them might cross paths one of these days, especially when she’s near and around the hospital where her mother worked. she could go in and inquire, know for sure, but there’s not really much of a motivation in there for her since she doesn’t see any benefit in knowing. there’s also, of course, apollo, but that’s not really a loss so much as a temporary absence. sunny always knew they’d come back, she just wished that the sweetness of being reunited wasn’t soured by the fact that apollo left at all when they promised they never would.

DO THEY…

have any pets:  she adopted a rescue dog when she was eight years old - an eight month old golden retriever she named brandy because ‘brandy you’re a fine girl’ was stuck in her head that week after hearing her father singing to it - under very sketchy circumstances involving forged signatures, saved up allowances and intense guilt tripping after the attendant mistook her for a little boy and she hammed up being offended by it. they were together for twelve years, the dog serving as her closest companion when she still lived with her parents. brandy has since been gone due to old age (if you say to or around her that brandy died, you will get punched on the arm so hard) for a few months over two years now and though sunny would love nothing more than to have another one soon, she’s still recovering from the loss. also has a pet turtle named tommy and a hamster named hal. she likes to make them race sometimes and forces them to hang out with each other. hal doesn’t like it but tommy doesn’t seem to mind. she doesn’t believe in the idea of ‘pet names’ because it makes her feel like she’s separating herself from her pets when she truly views them as family. it’s a pet peeve, pun intended... get it? pet peeve? it’s funny, i’m brilliant, donate money to my paypal

have a family they still talk to: does apollo count? this is mostly a no, and it’s largely because of her own volition. her mother disappeared on her years ago and though sunny knows where she works (worked? in case she’s transferred hospitals since then) and could very easily track her down, it’s not something that she’s ever felt up to doing - leaving home when she did was one of the most freeing experiences she has ever had, and to reacquaint herself with a woman who made her feel more and more suffocated with each passing year feels like a huge step backward that she doesn’t really need or want to take. there are no more hard feelings within her, sure, but it doesn’t mean that forging a relationship is on her to-do list. her father, on the other hand, does still reach out to her, trying to start small talk only to be cut off by her because, oddly enough, it’s with him that she does still harbor some resentment towards. their relationship was only a step above the one with her mother, but it was still something better, yet when she left, he didn’t seem to have made much of an effort to get her back and that stung. he tries to engage her about the most banal shit like the weather or news, tries to tell her what he’s doing and how his day was, but sunny has no time for it: if he’s not going to address the big issue between them, there’s no point in letting him back into her life.

have a best friend: just one??? what kind of weak person... without a doubt, apollo is the one who knows her best, perhaps even knows her better than she knows herself, which is a cliche that she doesn’t want to subscribe to but has to because it just fits. when it comes to her sibling, it’s impossible for sunny to hold their decisions against them, even though time and time again they’ve hurt. and it’s not that it hurts her but that it hurts apollo, and the most that she can do is voice her concern softly, be careful not to seem demanding or controlling, but she can’t make apollo’s choices for them. sometimes she doesn’t know if it’s a good or bad thing that she seems to be able to forgive her sibling anything, but the one thing she does know for uncertain is that her heart holds a love for the other deeper than she ever thought herself capable of feeling, and it scares her sometimes, especially right now when she can’t determine if their relationship can weather the storm it’s currently under. other than apollo, julian is a close second, someone who got to see her be weak and didn’t push. to be honest, when they initially met, sunny didn’t know what to think of the guy: he seemed as much bad news as apollo used to be, but he was funny, he didn’t overstep, and he cared in his own little way. after apollo left and it was just the two of them in the apartment, sunny was more withdrawn than ever but julian never gave up on her and she genuinely thinks, in some way, he really did save her. and then there’s morpheis. HOO BOY WHAT TO SAY. they just.. jumped at her, completely unexpected, and quickly stole a part of her heart. were they initially tasked to kill her if she messed up? sure, but now that’s just a funny story they can tell people who ask them how the hell the two of them met... and a lot of people do seem to want to, considering how odd a pair they make. between sunny’s piercing glare and morpheus’ intimidating stature though, nobody really tries to, but that makes it all the more better. the two of them exist in this bubble, this world, where somehow it’s easier to be vulnerable, something that sunny doesn’t really want to be anymore. though it’s clear to her that they suffered through so much more than she has (and probably ever will, though if she could, it would be great to have the ability to wipe away the grief from their face), for some reason she can’t grasp, their soul feels kindred to hers. she loves apollo and julian, but her relationship with morpheus is something that’s a little more open, a little more honest, and a little more liable to break her should it ever turn against her.

want to get married and/or have kids: so far, what sunny has seen of marriage isn’t really all that pretty, but she always knew that her parents’ arrangement was more of the exception than the rule. marriage is... daunting. she doesn’t really see it as something that she necessarily has to do, and if there comes a time that she does find someone that she feels she can spend the rest of her life with, then she simply would, wedding or no. if they ask her to tie the knot, then she would, but not for any want of hers. kids? they’re... nice. they’re a nice concept. she really feels like she’s too young to think about this right now, she doesn’t even think so much about getting into a relationship, let alone sleeping with someone for another someone to form inside her. though she does think that she’s the kind of person to prefer adoption over having kids of her own: it isn’t really an equal comparison, but she loves her pets as though they were her own children, and they’re all rescue. she knows the feeling of being unwanted, of being an impulse decision eventually regretted, and kids? who feel that same thing, only worse because they were actually abandoned by their parents? if she could help with that, she would. sunny has a fondness for babies more than she does for little kids, but she does love the way that their minds work and would, if it’s possible, rather be in conversation with them than most adults since they can be so banal and double edged

want to leave: leave new olympus? she’d be lying if she said that she hasn’t considered it, and really, when she signed up to be a part of it, sunny always thought that it would be something temporary and that one of these days, she’ll just drop off of it. syrus knew just what to say, just how to challenge her to get her in of her own volition, but two years later, she still stands with them and holds such a soft spot for a lot of the other members. she’d thought they would be dismissive of her, that her young age would be considered a strike against her, but after that first hurdle of proving herself, they have been nothing if not supportive, with some even offering to teach her a thing or two. sure, they’re not trying to teach her the best things, but it’s a nice gesture at its core nevertheless. with apollo holding no alliance, sunny knows that her own is tied to that: if apollo asks her to leave, she would honestly consider it, but only on the condition that if she leaves, they leave this world for good, because that makes it easier for her to sleep at night, knowing that they’re separate from a world that could be so tempting to apollo’s demons. if she leaves, they go the straight and narrow. but these people have become family to her, the thought of leaving morpheus all by himself, not having their late night conversations where she pulls him back from the edge or indulges his drunken ramblings... there’s also syrus making some offers of help and, if she was being really honest with herself, sunny has become attached to these people, much more than she knows or realizes.

THIS OR THAT?

phone call or text: text, definitely. there’s something very satisfying for sunny to just not have to think of what to say and what tone to say it with, not to mention that she’s not entirely the best at maintaining a conversation too. at least when it comes to text, she has the option of being an accidental ignorer... you know, the kind of person who leaves you on read and then comes back two days later with ‘sorry for the late reply, i had a dentist appointment’? she annoyingly does that, but has also reached the point where she doesn’t even come up with excuses anymore and just straight up says she didn’t feel like replying. she’s also a very liberal user of emojis as a way to end a conversation or to respond to a conversation that she doesn’t really want prolonged and will be That Person who texts ‘... ok’ to annoy someone. only the people closest to her bother to call her and only to them does she hold long (or at least longer than she’d usually care for) conversations with over the phone. she’s not the best talker, but she makes sure to breathe unto the receiver so they can sense that she’s there at least, and that she’s listening and commiserating. sometimes it’s really all she can do

wealth or loyalty: loyalty. somewhat ironically suits her home life really, her father was wealthy but horribly disloyal, and it painted this picture for her of what wealth does to people: it makes them complacent, it makes them arrogant, it makes them dismissive, and none of these are traits that sunny want with the people she associates with or with herself. she’s never been someone who’s materialistic anyhow, minimalist almost to a fault, and what they do have now is enough for her. true, when she first left home, there was a slight shock in how different life was on the other side of the veil, but it lasted only a second because it was the people that she left home for anyway: for apollo, for julian, for the little home life that they’d built together as a ragtag group, quasi-family full of misfits and degenerates. 

love or lust: love. that isn’t to say that she’s a bleeding heart romantic or has ever felt something akin to that level of attachment for someone before, but sunny knows that lust isn’t something that she necessarily feels intensely, she’s never felt that very primal need to be with someone in that way nor does she gauge people based on how much she’d like to be with them or not. how can she prefer something that she isn’t even sure she can feel? that’s not to say that she hasn’t entertained the notion or that she isn’t aware of how powerful an act it can be, especially for those who do it well, but she does somewhat still subscribe to the idea that it’s something that’s reserved for intimate relationships, which is why she’s still a virgin and not really chomping at the bit to change that

5 friends or 100 acquaintances: five friends. because she’s already filled up three of the slots, so that’s convenient, lol. she’s relatively private, and the idea of a hundred or so people knowing who she is, knowing just enough about her to cross the line from stranger to acquaintances, leaves a bad taste in her mouth. she likens herself to a gust of wind in how fleeting she is: after the necessary moment of interaction, if she doesn’t really want a connection to go further, she just ends it, so friendships are long, hard work for her, which justifies how she can allow them to know about her, to be close to her. 

summer or winter: no preference, really. she loves getting to wear her tank tops or going jogging and hiking during the summer just as much as she loves burrowing under the covers or wearing her puffy coats and pretending she’s a penguin during the winter. she understands that a lot of people don’t really like the sweltering heat because of how much it makes them sweat, but her past athletic career mostly entailed that, it’s something that she’s taken in her stride. and who doesn’t love the way that snow makes it possible for you to fuck up and slip on the ground but not crack your head open on the sidewalk because there’s a pile of snow there? its not really such a polarizing topic for her and one that she barely pays attention to; it doesn’t really matter whether she likes one more than the other, they’re both still going to keep coming back, might as well make the most of both

OTHERS:

wanted plots/connections: will come up with one soon maybe or just plot with everyone idk

[untruthsteller]

Oh Shit it's P5 headcanon time

[kaisune]

Top Surgery Experience with Dr. Hope Sherie

From my years of research, I've found it to be particularly difficult to find reviews for surgeons that are not very well known. And when I say very well known, I mean like Dr. Garramone, because, let's face it, he's at the top of this field right now. Due to this, it is vital that those of us that pursued other surgeons relay our experiences and results so others feel as though there are other options available. Other wise, we would all be waiting forever so that one surgeon can do all of our top surgeries (Don't get me wrong, Dr. Garramone is a fantastic surgeon with great results! I'm just very aware of the fact that we need to be aware of other possibilities out there!). Some of the reasons for pursuing different surgical options may include time, distance, and results (because not everyone may prefer the same look). I knew that the cost of travel and time spent in southern florida was not a feasible option for myself so I pursued other options. 

This led me to the Cosmetic Concierge and Dr. Hope Sherie. I liked her results and the timing of the surgery fit into my hectic schedule cause grad school. Not to mention, it was a relatively quick drive from Atlanta, Ga to Charlotte, NC. 

Facility/Location: The actual surgery center was gorgeous. It was actually one of the reasons I chose this surgeon. She has her own surgery center so you do not have to be checked into a hospital. It's all very convenient both for the patient and whoever may be taking care of them. They had a lounge area and wifi available for people waiting on patients. There were also quite a few restaurants and coffee shops within walking distance of the practice. So, if your person wants a break from the medical environment, they can easily do so. There are also many hotels in downtown Charlotte as well as cheaper options a few miles outside of the city. I stayed in one of those cheaper options and had an easy time getting to and from the office. 

Staff: The staff were really great. Any time I contacted them, they readily provided any information they could and responded very quickly. The first time I called, I was asked my preferred name and pronouns. I was not referred to by my given name a single time but I was misgendered a couple times. Not super uncommon for me at the time so I wasn't super surprised. I have heard of much more aggressive misgendering happening with other surgeons, though, so I'm pretty pleased with the way I was treated.

Visibility: There were tons of other non-binary/trans masculine people at the practice which made me feel very comfortable. I didn't feel alone and I knew they had other patients like me. They also openly advertised their trans-specific procedures which was rare for many of the other surgeons I contacted. I really didn't want to give my business to someone that was too ashamed to admit they treated trans patients but thats just me. 

Pre-Op: Everything about pre-op was easy. They made everything go as smoothly as possible and I really appreciated this. I was already very stressed about having surgery so it was nice to not have to worry about other things like figuring our prescriptions and loads of paperwork. I always felt informed at each step of this process and was never concerned that information was being kept from me. 

Post-Op: Post-op was probably as easy as it could have been. Dr. Hope doesn't require that you stay in town after your surgery but I decided to stay a couple days in order to heal a bit. After two days, I went back home and returned six days later for my post-op appointment. I felt relatively comfortable the entire time after my surgery. My pain levels were never overwhelming. I did wish I had a bit more information on what I should be doing for post-op care. I received written directions but I was confused at times and ended up googling stuff myself. This was fine for me but may not be for other people. I hated the post surgical binder. It irritated my incisions and slowed healing time, I believe. I probably would have bought I different one if I had known what style it was going to be. It was wrap-around styles, very similar to an ace bandage. The post-op appointment went smoothly. My drains being removed was pretty uncomfortable but that was expected. Unlike other surgeons, Dr. Hope uses penrose drains, an open type of drain, that is commonly used with trauma procedures. I was unsure about this type of drain at first but, after hearing others experiences, I believe it was much better than the bulb-type. They were not very painful and were simple to remove. I think this lessened pain may have been from the material they were made of. Penrose drains are made from a softer material than the bulb drains. Again, everyone made sure to tell me what was going on every step of the way during the post-op appointment. 

Healing: Everything about healing was a pain. Initially, I was just always uncomfortable because of the drains and padding underneath my binder. I couldn't sleep comfortably and relied on meds to get any sleep. But, with the meds, my stomach was often upset so I often had trouble eating. A few days after surgery, the Oxycontin made it so that I couldn't digest food so I began waking up in the middle of the night and throwing up anything I had eaten during the day. So I got off of the Oxy as soon as I could. It did take a week or two for this effect to completely disappear though. Like I said, the binding was one of the worst things. They recommended that I keep it on for something like 12 weeks but said that I could take it off after a month. I tried to begin taking my binder off for a few hours a day four weeks after surgery but had problems with fluid build up. Sooo, I kept it on 24/7 for another week or two. Then I began getting fluid build up associated with too much binding. At that point, I said screw it with the binder and stopped wearing it all together. Slowly, the fluid build up decreased and evened out. There was a period of time where I thought I might have to go have it drawn out by the surgeon. After I stopped binding, every thing began healing much faster. Again, I think the binding was irritating my incisions. Nipple care was intense. I had a specific regime that involved cleaning the area, rubbing bacitracin over the nipple, and covering it with Tegaderm. At my post-op appointment, they were very pleased with my grafts. They said that they generally give patients a vasodilator to make sure blood flow is established but my blood flow was already in place. There were a few points where I was seriously concerned about my nipples during the following months but I think thats pretty normal when your nipple are black and cracked open for a few weeks. 

Results: 

1 Week Post-Op

2 Weeks Post-Op

3 Weeks Post-Op

1 Month Post-Op

5 Weeks Post-Op

2 Months Post-Op

Almost 7 Months Post-Op

[idekwidcfo]

chapter four

this is the longest chapter so far

apologies for any formatting weirdness caused by copy/pasting it onto tumblr 

Mar was true to her word and did not call me to come help with her groceries, so I decided to be true to mine. I lounged around watching TV until it was time to get ready for the party. Even then, I ended up ready way too soon-- I started at 6 and it simply did not take 40 minutes to shower and get dressed. I turned the TV back on for a bit so I didn’t seem like a crazy person pulling up to Mar’s a fully forty minutes early. 

Finally, finally it was time that I could leave and show up at a somewhat normal time. Since we weren’t going to a show I figured it was my turn to choose the music. After a rather long moment of indecision, I put on This Is a Long Drive For Someone With Nothing to Think About. I had recently fallen in love with Modest Mouse, and I really hoped she would like it. 

When I pulled up to her place, it was 6:56, which made me technically early but I was worried she actually had expected me at 6:52. I felt bad about the possibility that she was waiting anxiously, like she had said yesterday. It didn’t help that she was at my door the second I put my car in park. 

“Took you long enough,” she said, but her tone made it obvious that she was teasing. She hopped in the passenger seat. “Only four minutes early! Where’s the exactly-eight-minutes-early Vaughn I was expecting?” 

“That asshole took four minutes to choose what CD to play on the drive up there. You said it was somewhere in Cleveland, right?” 

We lived in Akron, which meant that Cleveland was about a 45 minute drive away. Having a good album playing was, in fact, essential. 

“Oh, I don’t get to choose this time?” she pouted playfully. 

“We can take turns. Are you up for navigating? I’m pretty sure I figured out how to get there but I wrote down the directions to be sure,” I said, handing her the peice of paper I had copied the Mapquest instructions onto. 

“Sure!” she said. “I’m glad to be useful.” 

I started driving again and she examined the directions. “This seems unnecessarily complicated. I thought it was just Route 8 up to uh, one of those big freeways that lead to Cleveland.” 

“I’m a normal person who does normal things like avoiding freeways when I drive. Although, to be fair to my totally normal self, my car is a little old and junky and it likes the back roads better.” 

She shrugged. “Sounds fun.” 

It was fun, at least more fun than driving by myself. I liked driving, so that was actually saying a lot. We stopped for gas and energy drinks but mostly we drove without speaking. I let the music of Modest Mouse wash over me as I drove. She seemed to have fun giving me directions-- it made our journey a sort of act of teamwork and I couldn’t help but feel we were bonding over it even with minimal talking. 

And then we were there. I didn’t even need her to confirm for me. It was noticeably a house party. Cars were parked on both sides of the street despite the lack of sidewalk or curb and people were pouring out of the porch onto the front yard. And this was us showing up only fifteen minutes late! I couldn’t even begin to wrap my head around what this would look like two hours from now. 

“Uh, wow, I wasn’t expecting so many people,” I said. 

“I guess I didn’t actually explain in detail how awesome Derek’s parties are,” Mar said. “Did I mention there’s a pool? And a hot tub? Although good luck getting in the hot tub, it’s usually too crowded. This is pretty much the real deal as far as house parties are concerned.” 

“This is my first time going to any party that wasn’t, at best, my friend’s parents letting us have a few Bud Lights in the other room and checking in every couple of hours,” I told her. 

“Ew, Bud Light? I’m sorry your friend’s parents did that to you,” she said. “Anyway, you’re in for a fun night if this is your first real party.” 

We approached the house and Derek greeted us. “You made it!” he said, looking at me with a big, genuine smile. 

“I did,” I said, feeling awkward about how happy he was to see me. It was nice! I appreciated it! But it was also weird. We had barely gotten to know each other, unless shoving each other in the small mosh pit last night counted. 

“Oh, so he gets a warm welcome and what do I get?” Mar asked with a smirk. 

“Nothing because I know your ass would have found a way here one way or the other!” Derek said. Shouted, really. It occured to me that Derek was possibly-- probably-- at least a little bit buzzed. 

“Where’s the beers?” Mar asked.

“In the kitchen, duh,” Derek responded. 

As Mar dragged me into the house, it sunk in that this was quite possibly the first time that I could get away with getting trashed. Not that I wanted to. Or maybe I did. I wasn’t sure. I had seen my dad trashed and it just seemed bad and embarrassing, but I was also curious about what it was like. 

I noticed that nearly everyone we passed was happy to see Mar and interested in meeting me, but Mar steered me past them. “Booze now, make friends later,” she said. “Do a shot with me.” 

“Uh, I’ve never really drank hard liquor, I’ve only ever had a few be--” 

“Shot. With me. Now,” she said, handing me a mostly-full shot glass. I watched as she gulped it down like a kid with nasty medicine and tried to do the same. It burned, and I coughed a bit, but I didn’t splutter or spit it out or anything, which I was proud of for some stupid reason. 

“Okay,” Mar said. “Cool. Now beer. Any preferences?” 

“Um. PBR?” 

She rolled her eyes at me. “Well you’ll fit right in. Let’s see if Derek has anything better than that though,” she said, opening the fridge and digging around. “Oh! Commodore Perry!” 

She handed me a can of PBR and opened her own bottle of beer, which did look a lot fancier and higher quality than my own. 

“Mmmm, let’s do one more shot before we go mingle,” Mar said, handing me the shot glass again. I held it out while she filled it up. It was a little easier with the PBR as a chaser. 

I was definitely already buzzed-- not trashed, but buzzed. I was glad. I didn’t want to be one of those people who couldn’t have more than one drink without getting embarrassingly drunk. 

She led me back into the living room, where the biggest group of people who had greeted her happily were hanging out. She introduced me as her boyfriend, which made me happy. Unfortunately, I forgot pretty much everyone’s names almost as soon as the conversation moved past introductions. 

As Mar talked to people she clearly knew already and was already friends with, I stood awkwardly to the side. A person who was also standing awkwardly to the side near me introduced themself. 

“Xavier, huh? Uh, mind me asking what pronouns you use?” I asked, realizing as I spoke that I was, in fact, drunk already. Was the PBR hitting me hard or was that just my body absorbing the shots? 

Xavier’s face lit up and I knew I had hit on something there. Maybe trans people have a ‘trans’-dar the way gay people have ‘gaydar’. “He/him! Thanks for asking!” 

“Mine are he/him, too. I asked because I’m trans,” I told him. I wasn’t normally that forthcoming about it, but it was so rare to meet someone else who was trans that I wanted him to know he wasn’t the only trans kid at the party. 

“You are? I couldn’t even tell!” 

“Well, I was lucky my dad was… passively accepting, I guess? He’s not going to get ally of the year or anything, but he did let me start hormones last year, and I was on puberty blockers before that. So I look like a man, I guess. Yay me,” I said awkwardly. I thought alcohol was supposed to help you feel less awkward but I guess I was still sober enough to feel awkward. I finished my beer. There weren’t any trash cans that I could see so I held the empty can while Xavier spoke to me. It did not help with the awkward feeling I had. 

“Wow that’s awesome,” he said. “I know a lot of people online who have transitioned or are transitioning but I’ve never met someone else in real life!” 

“You know, me neither,” I said. “Outside of a support group I went to a few times.” 

“Oh, I should probably attend one of those, huh?” Xavier said. 

I shrugged. “It didn’t help me much. I did the same thing I just did to you-- misgendered someone even though I, a transgender guy, should know better. And then I just never went back. Jeez, now you know three things about me and one of them is that I misgendered someone at a trans meeting.” 

“Ha!” he said. “No worries, really, I still slip up and misgender myself sometimes. Also I’m new to this and everything but isn’t a trans person slipping out the wrong pronouns like way different than a cis person intentionally using the wrong ones, anyway? Let’s stop talking about it, seriously. Wanna smoke some weed instead?” 

“Um, yes, I would very much like to smoke weed. I never have before! I was hoping to for the first time here at this party! But I should probably get my girlfriend, because I’m pretty sure she likes weed, too,” I said. 

I tapped Mar’s shoulder. “Damn,” I heard Xavier say under his breath. “She’s pretty, good for you!” 

I tried not to smile too big, but it was hard when I had definitely heard Xavier muttering that, and Mar’s face was so close to mine that I could see perfectly well for myself how pretty she was. “Xavier here just offered me weed, wanna come smoke with us?” 

She looked at him. “Just us three or are you up to sharing with others, too?” 

Xavier grinned. “The more the merrier!” 

Mar turned back to her group of friends and announced, “Xavier here has weed! Who wants to go smoke?” 

“I do! I do!” a few of the people said with ironic enthusiasm. Or maybe not ironic? It was hard to tell. 

“Where’s Derek?” Mar muttered to herself, looking around. She turned back to me and Xavier. “It’s good manners to offer the host of the party any weed you may smoke at the party. Let’s go find him.” 

“I knew that,” Xavier said with a facial expression that was between an eye-roll and a frown. 

“Also, the host frequently knows really well where it’s okay to smoke in his own house,” Mar said. “Just, on a more practical note.” 

“You know I’ve smoked before? This is my weed that we’re going to be smoking?” Xavier asked, quite bewildered by Mar’s helpful tone. 

“Yeah, I’m talking to Vaughn, not you,” Mar said. She actually sounded a little rude and I worried that I was in the middle of a brewing confrontation. 

“So you’re just ignoring me to my face before you smoke my weed?” Xavier asked. 

“Jeez, you’re touchy,” Mar said. “But also you’re right, that was rude of me. I should have included you. You got any tips to share with our little cannabis virgin here?” Just like that, the air of potential confrontation had vanished. 

“Cannabis?” 

“I got that from him. Isn’t it hilarious? He seriously called it cannabis the first time it came up. So nerdy, so cute.”

“That is cute. Next he’ll tell us that the tetracannahydrobanoids are what get you high.” 

“Is that a word? Is that the real word for it?” 

“I have no idea, but it sounds right, right?” 

“Hey, wait a second, now you’re ignoring me,” I said. “Maybe you just suck at focusing on more than one person at a time.” 

Mar turned around and glared at me. For a long moment. I felt bad. I also felt drunk. I was, at this point, definitely feeling the beer and those two shots. After an awfully intense moment of her staring me down, her face broke into a smile. “It’s kinda nice having you tell me I suck at something instead of going on about how pretty and cool and fashionable and funny I am,” she said. “Do it more.” 

She then turned back around leaving me a little shocked about that but also pretty much forced to immediately get over it. She led me and Xavier through the front door to the porch, where it turned out Derek still was and had been the whole time. “Derek, darling,” Mar said, melodramatically draping herself on his lap. “Our new best friend Xavier here has marijuana on offer and I knew it would be absolutely uncouth to smoke it without coming to find you first.” 

I felt that stupid spike of jealousy and being drunk did not help. Neither did Xavier. “Damn they seem real flirty. You’re okay with that?” 

“A, he’s gay, b, she’s known him longer and c, no one likes a jealous asshole, so no thank you to me being a jealous asshole,” I said. I wasn’t that drunk yet, I figured, since I could still enunciate clearly. It took some effort, but I did it. 

“Let’s go!” Derek said. “Follow me, stoner conga line.” 

I turned around and realized he was right. There was a whole damn conga line of people eagerly waiting for the promised weed. 

“I need more beer first though so detour to the kitchen,” Derek amended. 

I got another beer while they were right there, and Derek did a shot with Mar which was very okay because I was definitely not ready for a whole nother shot. We eventually made it into what was very obviously Derek’s room, with posters that looked like they had been ripped from the walls of Electric Avenue haphazardly taped to the wall and the general messiness of a teenaged boy. Or maybe he was in his early twenties. I wasn’t sure how old Derek was, now that I thought about it. He did have a very big bed, probably king sized although I couldn’t tell these types of things just by looking, and he gestured at us to go ahead and sit on it. 

He opened all the windows and turned on a fan. “I’m sure they can tell I smoke in here, but I figure it’s the thought that counts,” he said, pouring a bit of scented oil into a burner. Xavier started getting the pipe ready while I watched. 

When the entire stoner conga line situated itself into a stoner circle on the bed, Xavier spoke up. “Pip?” 

No one said anything. Xavier turned to me. “Say ‘pap’.” 

“Like a pap smear?” I asked, utterly bewildered. 

“No, like pip-pap, a silly name for ‘pipe’,” he explained. 

“Pap?” 

“Good job,” he said, handing me the pipe. “Now you get greens.” 

“What?” Mar demanded from the other side of me. 

“How do you decide who gets greens? My friends and I go ‘pip’ and whoever says ‘pap’ first gets greens. Now you all know!” Xavier explained. 

“I pack a bowl and then pass left because left is law,” Mar said. 

“But right is polite!” Xavier countered, a big cheesy grin on his face. Perhaps it was because I had drank that second beer rather quickly and therefore was already at four drinks, counting those two shots, but suddenly I realized he was really cute. 

I had sort of hoped that someone would tell me what the fuck to do, but Mar and Xavier were too busy comparing notes on their little stoner rituals and no one else was close enough to help me-- both literally and in terms of friendship. So I lit the weed in the bowl and inhaled as hard as I could. 

It hurt. I was suddenly coughing, my throat on fire. On the plus side, it got both Mar and Xavier’s attention. “Oh my god I’m so sorry I forgot it was your first time, let me go get you a drink!” Mar said. The absolute horror on her face was actually hilarious. 

“No, I’ll go, and we’ll pass to the right this time and you can have the next hit,” Xavier said, getting up. 

Mar shrugged. “Okay.” I passed the pipe to her as Xavier got up and she got ready to take the next hit. “There’s a trick to it, and I think it takes a second to learn, but you have to suck really gently like you’re trying to drink a soda out of a straw really slowly or something,” she said, then she did it. “See? Suck gently, no coughing.” 

“I got something you can suck gently,” I whispered at her. 

She had been passing it to whoever the hell it was sitting on her other side, but quickly turned back to me. “What?” she said with what I could only describe as an incredulous grin. She looked absolutely delighted but a little bit confused. It was a lot. I regretted it immediately. It had been the booze talking or something, considering we hadn’t even kissed yet. 

Why hadn’t we, though? Because I hadn’t been brave enough to initiate it yet? Fuck that. 

That was how Mar and I made out for the first time, surrounded by a bunch of people I didn’t know on her friend’s giant bed. It was during this that I felt the weed kick in, and it made the making out feel really good. Eventually Xavier came back with another PBR, which would be my fifth drink since I was still counting the shots as one drink each. It felt like it was important to keep track, but I wasn’t sure why. 

I thought about starting up another make-out session, since I was happy to spend the rest of the party right here kissing Mar, but before I could the pipe made it back to us and she told me to try again to see if I could smoke pot without wrecking my lungs and throat. 

I took the pipe and felt a tiny bit of apprehension. It was all good to joke about it but it really had been terribly painful. But I felt the need to get over it and tried again, sucking very gently. 

Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I even got more smoke into my lungs, but that came with the benefit of not having coughed, so I counted it as a success. I opened the beer Xavier had brought me and sat there feeling the alcohol and the weed and trying to take it all in, since it was my first time smoking and my first time drinking to excess. I really wanted to go back to kissing Mar, but it seemed really rude to everyone else on the bed and maybe even Mar herself, since she seemed to want to do things like keep drinking and smoking and talking to her friends. 

“It’s ass,” Mar said after what felt like three hours but, checking my phone, I realized was only about five minutes. I didn’t know what ‘it’s ass’ meant, but Xavier took the pipe and put it away. 

“Anyone feel up to beer pong?” someone said, and next thing I knew Mar was dragging me back outside.