#trans boy who's sick needs to wear his trans(face)masK

[caleohateclub]

“uh, I just think that maybe Richie Lipschitz's weird hair might just be 'baby's first bad transmasc haircut'” I say into the mic.

The crowd boos.

I begin to walk off in shame... when a voice in the crowd speaks.

“He’s right,” they say.

I look for the owner of the voice. There in the audience stands a guy in some character from Attack on Titan cosplay who I can only assume is Richie himself since I'm not wearing my glasses and he's pretty far away and wearing some makeup too.

[anyxis]

I have a headcanon that two specific characters from Twst are trans and, before anyone come at me saying that it’s “bullshit”, just hear me out.

The first one is Cater. He is very self-conscious about being the picture perfect person with all the cutesy things and we know that it’s something that was forced into him by his older sisters. I’ve also seen a fanart somewhere (I wouldn’t be able to find it for the life of me sorry) where the artist had drawn the first years as children and Cater was wearing a dress. Now, I don’t know if I read that as a headcanon somewhere or if it’s canon or if my sick twisted brain made that up, but I seem to remember that Cater’s sisters would also dress him up in cutesy dresses and whatnot? So I thought, what if Cater’s real name was actually Catherine and he’s the one who decided to cut it short in order to have a boy’s name instead of a girl’s one. And the treatment from his sisters is what made him realise really early on that he hated being a girl and he went through some intense gender dysphoria, because how do you explain to your family that you hate the pink dresses they buy you when you’re 6, you know? At some point before NRC, he was allowed to cut his hair shorter (but not boy short), which made it a bit easier for him and he didn’t have to wear dresses and skirts all the time while growing up. Still, he didn’t know how to tell his family that he didn’t like his name and, because of that, he just cringed on the inside every time they called him by his full (dead) name. Unfortunately for him, NRC being an all boys school, he was ripped out of the closet when he received his acceptance letter. Poor him woke up one day with both his parents waiting for him at the kitchen table with a suspicious looking black envelope. They sat him down and started asking questions which made him have one of the worst panic attacks he had ever had in his short life. He cried, because he thought his life was over and he would lose everything (i.e. his family), and they cried, because the realised their own son had never felt comfortable enough to be honest with them (worst feeling of failure for a parent really). It changed after that and Cater’s parents even helped him get medical treatment to start his transition. However, Cater’s relationship with his sisters was still tense. They accepted him as a boy of course, but they were still really intense on the cute picture perfect girly stuff. Because of that, even though he was out and confident with himself, he was still constantly masking and acting like someone else. Only Trey and Riddle, his closest friends, had seen him have a serious breakdown, because the stress was just too much for him and he couldn’t take it anymore. After that, they had been very careful to how Cater was feeling, looking for the very small details that showed he wasn’t well. They can’t really force him to get help and it’s not their place to talk about it with others, but at least they can try to make it easier on him.

The second one is Epel. He was out practically as soon as he could run around town. Some elderly had called him a ‘cute girl’ and he said, in his very blunt Felmier nature, that he didn’t like being a cute girl. He wanted to be a strong boy. And so, everyone had started calling him a boy. His parents would check with him, every couple of years, if he was still feeling like a boy and every time he would say yes. When he started school, his naturally small and cute body and face made other kids constantly call him girly, which made him get into many fights. He would always defend himself tooth and nail, up until the point he was called the ‘poison apple’ of Harveston. So, when he started puberty and his body started to change into a more feminine one, the whole family sat down and had a serious talk about where this was going. Epel voiced that he didn’t like the changes happening to his body, that it made him feel wrong and fake. Listening to his needs and wishes, Epel’s parents managed to get him on blockers, to stop his puberty from affecting him body too much. After that, it took some years before he could actually start his transition. This wasn’t because his parents didn’t want him to, just that Harveston is such a remote town that it was hard to get the medical process started. Everything was going well, until he was accepted in NRC. The next challenge had been Vil. He had fought so hard to be recognised as a boy and not be looked down on and, here he was, being judged by this random guy who thought he was better than him. When he ended up in Pomefiore, it was his worst nightmare. Now, he had to wear makeup and cute girly frilly stuff. He had to practice singing and dancing. So, one day, he had enough. He blew up at Vil when it was only the two of them in the dancing room, practising for the umpteenth time. Epel started screaming at him that he wasn’t a girl, calling him an asshole for treating him as such, for looking down on him just because he was born a girl. He was so upset he wasn’t in control of himself anymore, his legs giving out, crying so hard he could barely breath, his heart beating so fast he felt like he would die. And Vil stood there, waiting for him to just get it out of his system. And once Epel had calmed down and Vil could talk, he sat down with him and asked him if that was really out he perceived him. Vil told him that he never looked down on him because of anything, he was just hard on him because he knew he could take it, he knew he could be better. His wish had never been to cause him gender dysphoria or to make him feel like less of himself. He apologised for upsetting him so much, but told him that things wouldn’t change. Vil was set on not stopping until Epel was perfect, until Epel could best him in a fight. When that would happen, he knew he would have succeeded in creating the perfect poisoned apple. After that, Epel no longer felt like Vil was erasing him. But, he still hated all the work and stress he out him trough. He did have a relapse when practising for the SDC, but, having Deuce by his side made it easier on him.

[kevindayisafrog]

Non-Binary Kevin - it gets heavy, I guess

TW - body dysmorphia, hints at self harm and internalized homophobia

Kevin watched as the steam from his burning shower fogged up the mirror, hiding his scarred body once again. He sighed and leaned backwards into the hot stream of water, remembering a post he had read just last week: ‘people who have long hot showers tend to be the loneliest’. He let out a small scoff despite himself. The post was wrong. It wasn’t that he was lonely, he just enjoyed feeling the skin he hated melt away. Ever since he was young, as long as he could remember, he always felt uncomfortable in his body. His skin felt too tight here and too tight there; too smooth here and too bumped there. It’s not that he hated his physique, he just felt suffocated. He reached over and turned off the water and, grabbing a towel on his way out of the shower, walked over to the mirror. He held up the towel and let out a shaky breath before swiping away the squeaking condensation from the toothpaste splattered mirror. His haggard reflection stared back at him in a twisted gaze. He stepped back into the bath so that his full body was seen in the mirror. Turning this way and that, Kevin pulled at his skin and watched silently as his reflection did the same. He shivered slightly as the cold breeze seeped through the open bathroom window. He stared down at his body and winced before stepping out of the shower and pulling on his clothes over his still dripping skin.

Kevin watched Allison, Dan and Renee as they became engrossed in their own idle conversation. Allison was beyond beautiful; the perfect girl next door. Her platinum blond hair curved around her strong shoulders effortlessly. Her nails were perfectly manicured in a dark plum colour, making her slender fingers seem doll-like. Her tight black cropped shirt hugged comfortably around her chest and the sleeves hung loosely around her pale wrists. Kevin felt a weird pull at his gut as he looked away, catching Dan’s small smile. He darted his gaze to the floor and, once confident that Dan wasn’t watching, flicked his gaze back towards the girls. Dan was the polar opposite to Allison, yet she was gorgeous in her own way. Her short hair brushed her forehead neatly and made her eyes shine enigmatically. Her full lips were pulled in a wide grin, showing her perfectly straight teeth. She was wearing a loose red sweatshirt that ended halfway down her thigh. Her legs visibly toned beneath her jeans that were baggy around the knees. Again, Kevin felt the weird pang in his stomach, but this time it crawled up to burn his chest, too. Finally, he cast his gaze upon the innocent beauty that was Renee. Her cut short dyed hair was neatly brushed into straight lines around her cheeks. Her dimples dipped sweetly as her smile spread wider, making her skin crinkle slightly by her shining eyes. Her shoulders were pulled up straight, but her head was bent to show a gentle twinge of muscle in her neck. A beautiful ballet dancer’s neck. The pain finally fizzed into Kevin’s head as it gave way to a suffocating feeling beneath his skin. Was he jealous? He shook his head and turned to watch as his father scanned the room in silent approval. His shoulders were slightly hunched forward as he crossed his muscled arms across his broad chest. His defined jaw was jutted out as he watched his Foxes talk enthusiastically about the new season. Kevin felt a whimper trap itself in his throat as he cleared it self consciously, Nicky sending him a side glance. He turned his gaze finally to Matt as he sat, thighs pulled widely apart, leaning to rest his head on Dan’s shoulder. He was comfortable in his skin. They all were. So why wasn’t Kevin?

When Kevin got back to the dorms he glared into the mirror in the bathroom and let out unsteady shaky breaths. This constant crashing feeling hit him throughout his life, so why was it hurting so badly now? He clutched the sink with shaking hands and whispered into the mirror. “You’re a man, for fucks sake, you’re a man”, he let out a sob and repressed the urge to smash the mirror. He knew he’d only pull the glass onto his skin. He’d cut off the bits he didn’t want, carve new pieces that he wanted. Needed. He’d done it before. He let his legs fall beneath him as he rested his head against the side of the bath. How was everyone so comfortable with themselves? Why did he have to come out wrong? He bit his left hand with all his might as he sucked in a silent scream. He just wanted to feel like himself. But how could he be himself if he didn’t even know if he wanted to be a him?

As he lay in bed that night, he listened to the other boys’ breathing and replayed his past on the dark ceiling above him. Admittedly, he couldn’t remember many chunks of his childhood, but he could remember some as clear as day. One memory pulled at him continuously and left a cold feeling across his body. He remembered crying on the bathroom floor after a long fight with himself. Blood seeped out from under his fingernails and trickled down his palms. There wasn’t a part of him that he hadn’t tried to scratch away. That’s where Jean found him. That’s where he finally told someone. He remembered Jean whispering ‘you’re okay’s in his ear and something about genders not being real. He let out a wet laugh at the time, but now Kevin felt his ears buzz with the words as if Jean were still by his ear. ‘Non-binary’, ‘trans’, ‘fluid’ kept flowing out of Jean’s mouth and Kevin dismissed them at the time. He didn’t understand the words, but now he could try. He leaned over the railing on his loft bed and squinted into the dark room, attempting to see if any of the others were awake. Confident that they were all sleeping, he rolled over and pulled his phone off the pillow and went to the search engine. He hesitated over the search bar and quickly turned it into private mode - just to make sure. He typed in ‘gender fluid’ and scrolled for ages, a feeling of unease scratching at his neck. He turned his neck to stare at the room yet again and faced his screen. This didn’t feel like him. He typed into the search engine: ‘non-binary’. He sucked air through his teeth and exhaled shakily as he prepared for another hour of endless scrolling. After twenty different websites and four YouTube videos, Kevin locked his phone and closed his eyes. He pressed his palms angrily into his eyes and let out a quiet whine. Why did the most ordinary thing have to be so fucking complicated?

When he woke up the next morning his eyes were itchy from tears that he hadn’t known he shed. As he climbed out of bed he made eye contact with Nicky who stared at him with questioning eyes. “Fuck off”, Kevin muttered as he grabbed his clothes for the day and shut himself away in the bathroom down the hall. He refused to look at his reflection and instead turned on the shower to steam up the mirror. He couldn’t do this today. Once he had finished with washing and dressing, he leaned down to pick up his clothes and froze. Beneath his crumpled hoodie was a pamphlet, half hidden beneath the door. Kevin stepped back as if it was poisonous and stared at the door. Once he was sure that whoever placed it there was gone, he leaned down and picked up the pamphlet hesitantly. Stuck to the front page with a bright orange post it was the scribbled message: ‘You don’t have to tell me, just know I’m here’ in Nicky’s messy handwriting. Kevin frowned and peeled off the note to reveal the bold lettering beneath it: ‘Non-Binary and Me. Everything You Need To Know’. Kevin recoiled in horror and hid his face in his hands. How the fuck did that rat bastard know? He felt his cheeks burn and a sickness feeling began to crawl up his throat. He couldn’t fucking do this. He stuffed the pamphlet into his jeans pocket and left the bathroom with a calm mask. He couldn’t breathe.

“Can I come in?”, Nicky knocked softly on the bedroom door and Kevin froze by his drawers. “No”, he shouted back, but it came out in a more strangled way. “I’m coming in anyway”, Nicky pushed open the door and closed it quietly behind him. “Morning sunshine”, his bright smile was hesitant as Kevin turned his back. “Go away”, he seethed, the sick feeling returned with the heat. “Did you read it?” Nicky stepped into the room and dropped onto his bed cheerily. “I said fuck off”, Kevin grabbed the drawers with trembling hands. “No you didn’t, you said ‘go away’”, Nicky’s smile dropped slightly as he leaned forward towards Kevin. “I have another one for pronouns. It’s actually really-“ Nicky stopped as Kevin threw the pamphlet in his face. “My pronouns are he/him. I’m a fucking man, alright? Now take your fucking pamphlets and leave”, he watched Nicky’s smile drop and felt the guilt compete with the sickness. He pushed both feelings down and bit his bottom lip. “You know, I felt like that too. I used to lie about my sexuality so much that I started to believe it. But the feelings never went. They just kept eating at me. No matter how many people were happy with me being straight, the feelings of hatred were still there. I didn’t hate being gay, but I hated myself for hiding it. For lying to myself. But it feels so good being out, no more nights thinking that they were the last”, he let out a shaky laugh and Kevin stared in silence. He didn’t know what to say, he never did. “Don’t get me wrong, no matter what situation you’re in, coming out is still fucking terrifying. But just know that you don’t have to tell anyone, not even me. As long as you tell yourself, as long as you accept yourself. Then you’ll feel better”, Nicky lifted his bent head to smile a fragile smile at Kevin. They sat in silence as Kevin tapped his tongue across the back of his teeth. “I think I am”, he whispered, barely audibly. “You think you’re what?”, Nicky rubbed his hands together on his lap and met Kevin’s eyes. “I’m..I don’t think I’m- a man. Well I am, but..I don’t want to be. I don’t know”, Kevin punched his thigh and bit his lower lip, “I don’t want to be a girl though. I just want..I don’t know what I want. But”, he gestured limply to the pamphlet on Nicky’s lap. “I think I want that”, he dropped his gaze and shook his head. “I’m proud”, Nicky smiled warmly as Kevin’s head shot up, “do you want new pronouns?” Kevin stared blankly as he realized that he never gave himself the chance to think about it. Did he want new pronouns? He let different ones roll around his head, trying them against himself. “Umm..can we start with he/they?”, Kevin let themself hear the new pronouns out loud. “I think they suit you”, Nicky winked and stood up. “Wait”, Kevin leant over and pulled Nicky’s sleeve towards them. “Can you not say ‘they/them’ around the others. I don’t think I can deal with it right now”, they dropped their hand and Nicky caught it, giving it a small squeeze of understanding. “I’m proud of you”, he whispered before turning and leaving the room. “Fuck”, Kevin exhaled and rubbed a hand across their face. They could do this.

[shhhhyoursister]

SHHHHYOURSISTER FIC MASTERPOST (updated 4/13/2020)

hi everyone so this is definitely a super good idea for me to make and will be helpful for people who wanna read my fics, and for me to keep track of all of the random shit i write!!!!! so here we fuckin GOOOO (sorry about how long this is gonna be lmao im gonna try to update it every time i write a fic whoops)

AO3 FICS

david and jonas find a kitten 

self indulgent shotgunning fic 

abdi and carlos are a little confused (about top surgery) but they got the spirit 

david gets MAD when he can’t beat a level of a video game

og hickey fic

hans gives david the talk

random lil soft morning depression fic

(nsfw) just gonna keep it simple and say the 3pt masturbation fic (plus a lil extra)

(nsfw) matteo is an asshole to the boys and david is not happy about it

(nsfw) matteo wakes up and notices that david is naked under the covers

THE CAMP AU (ncu!david backstory)

(nsfw) THE RA!AU

TUMBLR FICS

RANDOM STUFF I WANTED TO WRITE

david gets his top surgery date

(nsfw) david is busy, matteo tries to distract him

davenzi anniversary fic

post-top surgery laura pov

sappy bastard david

proposal pt2 (”wedding”)

davenzi texting

matteo leaves the oven on

“being in a relationship is weird”

eyelash day thing

s3ep10c3 continuation

PROMPTS

prompt: “can you write davenzis first pride??”

prompt: “person a desperately needing to pee/shit but person b is in the shower and there is only one bathroom”

prompt: “you can keep it” (ft. drunk!david)

prompt: “t’s just a  ___, nothing to worry about”

prompt: “person a and person b trying to converse while one (or both) of them brushes their teeth”

prompt: “omg please write matteo taking care of drunk david!!!!” (pt2)

prompt: “you came into my room at 4am, to cuddle?” (abdi and matteo) (pt2)

prompt: “can you write write about matteo and david talking about trans stuff?”

prompt: “can you write some dumbass davenzi with a side of brain cell squad for a homie” (ft drunk!matteo)

prompt: “i want you to fight for me” and “angsty davenzi fic please???” (tw: transphobia)

prompt: “could you maybe write about david and matteo cuddling?”

prompt: “something/anything about what a gremlin matteo is and how much david loves him for it??”

prompt: “david walking around shirtless” 

prompt: “davenzi dancing”

prompt: “another hickey fic”

prompt: “matteo messing up”

prompt: “david buys matteo flowers”

prompt: “you didnt have to get me anything” (amira and matteo)

prompt: “david and dysphoria”

prompt: “i guess we have something in common”

prompt: “combine your gremlin-ness with matteo”

prompt:  “davenzi on one of the first evenings after they've moved in together”

prompt: “ sara and leonies first reaction/confrontation with davenzi

prompt: “kissing or fooling around in the rain”

prompt: “matteo being cold and clingy”

prompt: “ david thinking about how much he loves matteo, them play fighting and making out”

prompt: “talking about having kids”

prompt: “david has a nightmare”

prompt:  “david feeling overwhelmed/afraid of how much he loves matteo”

prompt: “ david and matteo getting a pet”

prompt: “a return to the pool for an anniversary with a picnic”

prompt: “ i NEED to hear/read david say “good boy”

prompt: “david is having a really shitty day but he knows matteo will make it better”

prompt: “please dont cry” (parent!davenzi)

(nsfw) prompt: “i think that’s the first time i’ve heard you moan…it was like a fucking melody.”

(nsfw) prompt: “just let me finish this and i swear ill go down on you until you come at least three times.”

prompt:  “are you trying to turn me on or are you really just that oblivious?”

prompt: “take off your clothes”

prompt: “david grabbing matteo's face to kiss him”

prompt: “you ever think about david drawing on matteos back”

prompt: “aloof”

prompt: “hickey anon, matteo waking up with lots of hickies”

prompt: “david trying to worm his way into cuddling matteo while he’s playing a video game”

prompt: “pool”

prompt: “mask”

prompt: “hold”; “discussing trans things”

prompt: “hands”

prompt: “storm”

prompt: “almost kiss but established relationship”

prompt: “david having a bad day and matteo getting him to talk about it and trans angst”

prompt: “shotgunning”

prompt:  “I’m gonna strangle you.” “Is that a promise?”

prompt:  “Already? Do I really have that much of an effect on you?”

prompt: “There’s people here.” “I know.”

prompt: “more gremlin matteo”

prompt: “david swooning over matteo”

prompt: “trophy (camp!au)”

prompt: “tease”

prompt: “compromise”

prompt: “sensual (ra!au)”

(nsfw) prompt: “david wakes matteo up with a blowjob”

prompt: “david subtly checking matteo out”

prompt: “david is annoyed because his alone time with Matteo gets disturbed”

HCs

(nsfw) prompt: “thank you for coming”

(nsfw) prompt: “matteo being baby and david being VERY top”

prompt: “can you expand on matteo being a baby when hes sick”

prompt: “you came into my room at 4am, to cuddle?” (davenzi)

prompt: “more of david and matteo talking about trans stuff”

(nsfw) prompt: “david begging matteo to do something”

prompt: “davenzi making out”

(nsfw) prompt: “can you elaborate on the humiliation/degradation stuff??”

prompt: “davenzi hcs”

(nsfw) prompt: “matteo’s praise!kink”

matteo complimenting david

“matteo.....are you vaping????”

prompt: “what davenzi's been doing since s4 ended”

prompt: “matteo and depression (davids pov)”

prompt: “when do you think matteo is the most needy?”

prompt: “do you think matteo knows he’s a twink?”

prompt: “showtime”

prompt: “numb”

prompt: “cuddle clingy david”

prompt: “plant”

prompt: “appearance hcs”

prompt: “romantic hcs”

prompt: “sleeping hcs”

prompt: “likes/dislikes hcs”

short sweet new years thing

david loving matteo’s clinginess

matteo thinking about vampires at night

autistic matteo

matteo and stimming

matteo cant find the sweater he wants to wear

matteo stimming to music

matteo and david’s hair

prompt: “david had a bad day, matteo annoys him”

mouth to mouth

prompt: “muse”; “believe”

david wants to smoke

david complimenting matteo

matteo sees a kid at the store

prompt: “some autistic matteo hcs”

[nicostolemybones]

Transitioning to Manhood

Will felt a strange nostalgia looking at the box his mother had sent him, although it wasn’t a bittersweet feeling. It was a twisting feeling in his gut, a horrible reminder that his mom was clearing the house of all reminders of her child, trying to get the child she thought she remembered to snap out of a phase and return home. He picked up a knitted hat, barely the size of his fist- he’d been born premature, and his grandmother had knitted the tiny pink hat as soon as she received news of his birth. It was a pale pastel pink, almost white, a pearly quality to the colour, but years of collecting damp in a cardboard box had tinged it a dusty, damp grey. There were photographs, and Will was bombarded with pigtails and frilly dresses and patent shoes buckled with bows. “I think I would have cried if I’d been put in that monstrosity,” Lou-Ellen said softly, pointing at the photograph Will was currently holding, featuring him in a pink frilly dress for a Church wedding, holding a basket of bright pink and red rose petals, bawling his eyes out and lifting up the hem of the skirt to wipe his face. He looked about five.

The next picture showed the same dress covered in mud, Will grinning like a maniac chasing the vicar’s daughter with a worm in his hands and one shoe missing, hair a tangled mess. Cecil snorted and laughed. “Please tell me you put that worm down the back of her dress!”

“Nah, she picked up a bigger worm and chased me with it instead. We were friends in kindergarten,” Will replied, pointing out a photograph of him in pink flowery dungarees sitting opposite the girl, who was wearing the same dungarees in blue. “We made mud pies and put them in her father’s shoes in that picture,” Will said sadly, “we got into trouble for boyish behaviour and making a mess.” Will unceremoniously shoved the photographs into the bottom of the box, taking a few deep breaths.

“Are you okay, Will,” Lou-Ellen asked gently, placing her hand on his back and rubbing small circles.

“Yeah,” Will sighed, staring emptily into the box before picking out his birth certificate and staring at it. “I don’t know,” Will amended, and Cecil took the certificate out of his hands.

“We should burn this,” Cecil announced, “it’s useless. If you end up needing it for anything, you can just get it re-printed at the register office. Although you might wanna make some changes to it first. Until you can do that legally, Connor and Travis owe me a massive favour, if you’d like.” Will let out a small laugh, burying his face in his hands.

“My whole childhood is in this box,” Will said quietly, “and my mom’s throwing away all of her favourite memories of me, and I can’t bring myself to look at them.”

“Hey,” Lou-Elllen began gently, “we’ll make new memories, new photographs.These aren’t your memories, they’re your mom’s ideal childhood for you, it’s all the parts she didn’t like taken out and the select few moments she did pruned carefully and displayed to be her image of perfection. You don’t have to keep any of this, because that’s not how your childhood felt to you. They aren’t pictures of you, they’re pictures of the child your mom wanted everybody to see, they aren’t pictures that truly represent your childhood. You aren’t obliged to hold onto somebody else's image of you.”

“We can burn all of it later, mate,” Cecil offered, “just us if you want. And Nico too, of course. Kayla and Austin too maybe, if they aren’t busy.”

“Yeah,” Will sighed, “shoot it with a burning arrow or something.”

“That’s the spirit,” Cecil grinned mischievously, taking the box from Will, “I’ll go take this to my cabin and get my siblings to thoroughly vandalise everything so before you burn it you can have a laugh.”

“Thanks,” Will laughed, and Lou-Ellen pulled him into her shoulder.

“I’ll see you later, dude,” Cecil smiled, “and you, my bi-hexual girlfriend!” He kissed Lou-Ellen’s cheek and jogged off.

“Do you wanna go find Nico?”

“He’s got training now,” Will replied, “but I wanna go talk to Clarisse, do you know where I could find her?”

“I saw her heading to her cabin before I came here,” Lou-Ellen replied, “I’m gonna go work on creating some more sigils, okay?” She kissed Will’s cheek before heading towards her cabin, and Will set out to find Clarisse. She wasn’t in her cabin, or in the armory- Will found her sitting outside the currently empty Aphrodite cabin, holding a pale green and cream chiffon scarf in her hands. Will sat beside her, bumping her shoulder.

“It was Silena’s,” Clarisse said gently, “her favourite hijab. She used to cover it with pins and I’d put flowers through the pins. After we burned her shroud, we uh… her parents invited me to her funeral, at the Masjid. The mosque, that is.”

“It’s beautiful,” Will said, “you should keep it. She’d want you to have it.”

“Yeah,” Clarisse sighed, “don’t tell anyone I went soft, you hear me, Solace?”

“Message received and understood,” Will smiled, and Clarisse punched him lightly in the arm.

“She taught me how to put on makeup,” Clarisse admitted, “she used to do it real subtle, so nobody would know. She’d contour my whole face and she’d put on neutral eye shadows and clear mascara, cherry chapstick muted with matte powder.”

“I never noticed you wearing makeup,” Will replied.

“That’s because that was the point. She made it look completely natural. I’m not exactly… feminine.”

“But she taught you how you could be butch and still be pretty, right?”

“Exactly,” Clarisse replied, “she helped me to pass.”

“A true ally,” Will smiled, resting his head on her shoulder, “how have you been recovering from surgery?”

“I’ve had worse pain,” Clarisse smiled, “I’m still getting used to the extra weight on my chest, but Chris likes them just as much as I do, I think.” Will chuckled lightly, and Clarisse put her arm around him. “Anyway, you look like shit, Solace, what happened?”

“My mom,” Will replied dejectedly, “she sent a box of stuff from my childhood. I’m gonna burn it all later. Cecil’s idea.”

“I’ll be right there with you,” Clarisse said, squeezing his shoulder roughly, “providing I can take a baseball bat to everything first.”

“You can rip the birth certificate before I shoot everything with a burning arrow” Will offered, and Clarisse chuckled lightly.

“That’s my boy,” Clarisse grinned, punching his arm lightly.

“The thing is… I don’t hate my childhood,” Will began honestly. “I didn’t always know I was trans, I didn’t always hate myself, I just couldn’t understand that weird out of place feeling, you know? I didn’t know why things made me uncomfortable. I only started figuring it out when I came to camp… and now, it hurts to look at all the pictures, because they… they don’t feel like I’m looking at photographs of me, and the more I tell myself that’s me, the more I can’t stand to look at them, because I look so female. But my childhood wasn’t a sad one, I… I was loved once, I used to pretend I had nightmares so my mom would give me these butter cookies with warm milk. She knew I was usually faking it, but she didn’t care as long as I smiled.”

“Tell me more,” Clarisse probed gently, before wrapping Silena’s scarf around his shoulders when she noticed a breeze, keeping her arm around his shoulder.

“She didn’t always have a lot of time for me, with the singing and all,” Will began, “but when she did have time for me, we always did something. She used to take me to my grandma’s farm a lot. The chickens didn’t like me much, but there was this baby calf my grandma let me name. Which was a terrible decision, I called it Dustbin Grass,” Will announced with a small laugh. Clarisse snorted, and Will continued. “Anyway, the calf used to come in through the back door and lay down in the middle of the sitting room, and I’d curl up next to the calf. We had a height chart on the wall, and I’d always compare my height with the calf every week. And other days, my mom would take me on day trips. Sometimes it was just to the local park or play area, we’d feed the ducks and sit in the sun with a picnic. I’d always go on the slide, although some days it was so hot the metal burned and I’d start crying. My mom always used to wrap me up in a warm hug and she’d tell me that it was all okay.”

“That sounds nice,” Clarisse said sincerely, and Will continued to share his memories.

“I wasn’t so good with all the school stuff. When I was a kid, I hadn’t been diagnosed with ADHD yet, or dyslexia, but I still struggled. I was behind everybody in the class on my reading and writing and my handwriting was always terrible. I used to get frustrated and walk out a lot. And after break time, I always had a hard time calming down, so I used to be super bouncy and I’d need something to fidget with. And of course, I was a kid, so the louder the better. I’d get into trouble a lot and get sent out of class. I used to cry because I thought I was dumb, but my mom always told me I was the smartest. She’d take me on nature walks, and she’d point out different trees and birds and insects and I’d tell her what they were. And at one point, I could identify native birds by their calls. My mom made me feel smart, and I didn’t feel smart again until I came to camp.”

“How the fuck did they think you were dumb?”

“Classism, sexism, and ableism. Anyway, my mom and I used to have pamper weekends, where we’d just sit out in the garden with bowls of cold water for our feet and face masks, and we’d watch the clouds if there were any. Mom never used to put enough sunscreen on herself and she used to end up looking like a lobster. We’d talk about how our weeks had been, and about my mom’s record deals and tours. She mainly toured the South, she didn’t usually go far out from Texas, but I’ve always been travel sick and I can’t really handle anything over half an hour, so it was always better to leave me at home with my grandma sometimes. My mom and I lived in the city in Austin, but my grandma lived on a ranch. She used to make me cookies all the time and she’d tell me stories of mom’s childhood and her childhood. She’d tell me how lucky I was. My grandma was a lesbian, but things when she were young were… well, worse than they are today, so… she married a man and had kids and buried who she was. She always told me that I couldn’t help who I was, and that if ever I figured myself out and I wasn’t straight, then it was okay and she’d love me just the same. The vicar used to sit and have tea with my grandma every day, because he had a gay son and he wanted her advise on how to support him.”

“Your gran is a legend,” Clarisse smiled, “is she still with us or…”

“I wish I knew,” Will sighed sadly, “grandpa died when I was six and the year after, my nan met a woman, and she moved away and my mom refused to let me have her address or contact her. Everyone always assumes my mom is kind and loving because I have such happy childhood memories. But when you have a child, if you can’t love your child unconditionally, then you never loved them at all. I grew up, knowing, just knowing… that one day, I’d do or say something and my mom would know I was bisexual and my mom wouldn’t love me anymore. Knowing that your own mother will stop loving you, for the very thing that gets you beat up in the playground, for the very thing that gets you harassed, knowing that your own mother believes with all of her heart that her child deserves to burn in hellfire and brimstone for eternity just for being attracted to somebody… from a young age I knew that my mother’s love was conditional. For years, I knew that I didn’t meet the conditions for my mother’s love. And then I stopped going home because I was scared and I wasn’t ready to be abandoned by the same woman who promised unconditional love. And then I came out as trans to her and… she sends me the box. And it’s not just a box to remind me of my childhood, it’s all her favourite memories. It’s the drawings she stuck to the fridge, the photos she showed guests, the things she was most proud of me for. It’s her way of telling me that she hates me so much that those memories are worthless to her. Happy childhoods are empty gestures when a parent’s love is conditional. And I have to face biphobia and transphobia every day of my life, but it’s worse knowing I don’t have a home. My home is a summer camp. I’m alone. If the woman who swore to love me unconditionally, swore by her bible to love me and protect me and fulfil her god given role as a parent, can cast me aside like I’m disgusting, then how am I ever meant to feel anything but wrong? How am I meant to convince myself I’m worthy of love? I can’t even use public restrooms without fearing for my safety, how am I meant to feel safe enough to trust anybody?”

“Hey,” Clarisse began, squeezing Will’s shoulder, “you’re never alone. No matter what, I’ve got your back. I’ll kick a transphobes teeth, you know I will. We have to stick together, we can’t let the community be divided, okay? We’ll look out for each other. You’re not unloved. I love you. My mom is your mom now, okay? Actually no, I’m your mom now, kiddo. And you have the best friends you could ask for, okay? Lou-Ellen can and will hex anybody who tries to put you down. Cecil’s always got your back, he pranked that Athena kid real good, remember? And you have Nico. You’re dating the Son of Hades. He can and will turn anyone into a ghost if they hurt you. That boy loves you, okay? Your self-worth is not defined by your mother’s prejudice. Nico’s friends- Jason, Percy, Frank, Hazel, Annabeth, Piper, Reyna, Leo- they’re all allies we can trust. You’re not a boy anymore, Solace, you’re a man now. You’re making your own way in a world where the odds are stacked against you. You just gotta keep going. People will hate you no matter what you do. So surround yourself with allies, keep going no matter how bleak, stay strong, and when you can’t stay strong, use your support network. We’ll both survive if we stick together. If you feel scared to go outside, come and find me. We’ll keep each other safe. And remember. You’re perfect, don’t let anybody tell you otherwise. Aphrodite would want you to respect yourself and love yourself. Your dad would want you to shine and spread light amongst the hate, to rise no matter how many times you’re pushed down. My dad would want you to fight back and never stop fighting for your rights, our rights, for what you believe in. And I’m sure most of the other gods support you too.”

“Damn girl, now I know why you’re in charge of motivational battle speeches,” Will smiled, and Clarisse ruffled his hair.

“Good boy. Now, you’re gonna get back to that infirmary, and carry on as normal, okay? And then we’re gonna burn your birth certificate and all the other stuff.”

“I had my T shot this morning,” Will stated with a small smile, “after a few months, people no longer misgender me when they hear my voice and for once in my life, I like how I sound. I feel like me. My dysphoria is… it’s so much less intense than it used to be. I feel safer in public, I feel confident enough to speak as loud as I want without fearing judgment or misgendering or violence.”

“You’re getting a bit of a fluffy mustache too there, Solace,” Clarisse teased light-heartedly, and Will laughed happily. “I’ve gotta go teach the Aphrodite girls some self-defence classes, you have to prepare for the influx of inevitable injuries because the Ares cabin and the Athena cabin are sparring in the arena.”

Will went about the rest of his day with his head held high. For once, he felt proud of who he was, of the man he’d become, of the way he hadn’t let the hate he’d heard turn him hateful, how he helped people, how he tried his best to make every camper feel like they had a safe space, a home. He never wanted anybody to feel the way he had for such a long time. He prided himself on his kindness, and he vowed never to lose it.

So later that day, the camp stood around a pit of flames at the beach, all turned out to show their solidarity bar a few. Will wore his flag as a cape, and everybody cheered when Clarisse marched in still in her armour from the day, with a ‘fuck the cis-tem’ jacket, and ripped up Will’s birth certificate. Will smiled as he threw the photographs into the flames, one by one, his friends all cheering and clapping. He watched every painful reminder, every perfect image of his mother’s ideal child- graffitied on with funny mustaches and devil horns on his mom, courtesy of the Hermes cabin- of conditional love and rejection, go up in flames. For once, Will wasn’t defined by his past, but rather by his future, one surrounded by allies and friends from all walks of life. People of many religions and races, sexualities, and genders. And even better, he received a loving kiss from his boyfriend in front of the crowd. For once, he didn’t look back.

@solangeloweek day 2, childhood/back story building

[one-chicago-fanfiction]

Trans Connor Rhodes

((Full disclosure, I am trans. Thankfully my father is way better than Cornelius Rhodes))

Looking back, you don’t even know how it happened. One day you were quiet, because silence was safety. Only speak when spoken too. Don’t say anything he wouldn’t like. If you didn’t say anything wrong, he couldn’t make you pay for it. Sometimes he punished your silences. You were sullen and rude, weren’t the kind of daughter he’d ever wanted. Girls were supposed to be easy to raise. Girls were supposed to take dance classes and blush around boys and dote on their fathers. Girls were supposed to wear makeup and dresses and have their soft, safe rebellions. Why couldn’t you be more like Claire? You couldn’t even blame it on your mother’s death, he told you. Your sister was still vibrant and loving—why weren’t you? After your mother died, after that terrible night with the roof, with your mother’s body in a pool of blood below—you were alone. You grew up stranded in the shadow of your twin, your father using his money to play at being a king. Sometimes he ignored your existence. Other times he made it hell. 

You were never really meant for a quiet life. 

You were seventeen when it happened, when you stopped being quiet.

Happened. As if it were a single event, and not the culmination of every thought you’d ever had, every moment your heart had spent beating. You had spent years moving through the world knowing who you really were, keeping it buried beneath all the masks your father handed you with his cruelty. Smile more. Wear makeup. Dance at his parties. The doting, dutiful daughter. Beneath the fancy clothes he bought you, beneath the makeup Claire did for you before parties, you weren’t the kind of daughter he’d wanted because you weren’t a daughter at all. 

You were a son. That fact was laced through your blood, electricity that came from your very bones. You knew it every second. You’d never doubted it once. You just didn’t have the words to say it aloud. 

You were so used to the dull ache of your heart, the way you’d never truly been happy—not even when your mother was alive. It was just life, you thought. You looked like a girl, so people treated you like one. It was just the way you were always going to be. Fine, but not happy. A secret boy who’d never get the chance to live the way you were meant to. How were you supposed to find the words to unearth all of that—to show it to the world? How were you supposed to be happy?

Connor. You chose your name on a Saturday night, pale moonlight streaming in through your open curtains. It was late, so late your father was asleep, but not late enough that your sister was back from her night out. She’d asked you to go, and the invitation had sat like a stone in your gut for the rest of the night. It was the first olive branch Claire had extended in a while, and you turned it down. Things had been weird between you lately, and you just couldn’t face a night on the town with her friends. They all thought you were weird anyway. You and Claire weren’t so identical anymore—her with her long hair and short dresses, you with your oversized hoodies, you with your hair cut short. 

You came out slowly, over time, until you came out all at once. 

Years ago, you thought you might tell Claire first. If you ever told anyone, you thought it would be her, but the secret language you shared as children was gone, forgotten in a lost corner of your mind. You couldn’t have conversations just by glancing at each other. You didn’t spend evenings and weekends hiding from your father together. She hid with her friends, on nights out, at slumber parties. Night after night on couches across Chicago while you stayed quiet at home. You hid behind the locked door of your ensuite bathroom, headphones in, medical textbooks on the ground before you. Whatever you and Claire had shared, whatever tether the two of you had been born with—it was gone now. 

In the attic, a few months back, you’d found a dusty notebook filled with your mother’s scrawl. You ‘d studied it as closely as you studied your textbooks, studied it until the passage that cracked your chest right open, that made you realise things didn’t have to be this way. In the passage, your mother was pregnant. Twins, they’d just discovered. According to this account, your parents were terrified but thrilled. You could barely remember your mother. You clung to thoughts of her smile, the memory of her sweet perfume as she leaned down to kiss you goodnight. You didn’t like to think of her terrified, but you could picture it. You’d seen it before. You’d seen her real life terror, moments before her death. But you couldn’t imagine your father being thrilled about anything. And in your mind, even though it was impossible, you knew that Claire was the baby they’d planned and you were the twin. You were the one they’d never expected. 

Your mother had lists of names in the back of her journal, most of them starting with C, and you trawled through the boys names that summer. Cameron, Caleb, Christopher. 

Connor. 

In the end, you told them both at once. As soon as the words were out, you wondered if Claire would ever forgive you for the way you did it. As soon as the words were out, none of that mattered. Coming out wasn’t a closet for you. It was like crawling out of your own grave. 

This is how it happened. 

Your father could be truly vile. It was something about a business deal, something about manipulating a potential investor at a party. Your father bought new dresses for the pair of you, low cut things that came halfway down Claire’s thighs. She pressed yours into your hands, your dress teal and her’s black, telling you how great you’d look together. She’d do your makeup. It would be like old times. You could see in her eyes that she was trying to claw back the person you’d never truly been, the sister who didn’t exist. Your father made a comment about the investor’s sons, barely out of their teens, about how much they would enjoy the sight of a pair of stunning girls. If you’ve got it, your father said, flaunt it. 

“What if I don’t want it?” You asked. “What if I don’t want any of this?”

“Come on,” your father laughed. “I’ve given you everything. What could you possibly want that I haven’t already bought for you?” You steeled yourself, bit your tongue against the first response that hit you. I want my mom back. 

“A suit,” you said, as if you weren’t afraid, as if your hands weren’t shaking at your sides. “If you want me at your parties, I want to wear a suit. And I want you to call me Connor.” A long silence passed. The walls closed in around you. Your father looked from you to Claire, then back again. You caught the silent conversation they’d shared in their look, but you couldn’t decipher any of it. Your palms were wet, your heart pounding, legs on the verge of giving way beneath you. You could barely remember how to breathe. 

“That’s what you want?” Your father said, his voice slick with sarcasm. As if you’d asked for something unattainable. 

“It’s a start,” you said, your voice trembling with the words. But you didn’t break eye contact. You stared your father down until he pulled his gaze away, until he swallowed hard and held Claire’s gaze a moment longer. 

“Very well,” he said, and for one stupid, naive moment your heart actually leapt. You felt it, felt the world get lighter suddenly, your shoulders a little less heavy. Your father met your eye, and brought the world crashing down once more. “Claire, be ready at eight. Connor—get out of my sight. I’ll deal with you, and your delusions, in the morning.”

You can only imagine what would have happened if you’d stuck around, the things your father might have tried to get you to see sense. Conversion therapy, handsomely paid anti-trans therapists. You had no idea. Locking you in your room and denying you access to the things you needed? He would poison Claire’s mind. He was only a person, but he was your father and he could ruin you. He’d been doing it slowly for years. 

So you left. One duffel bag full of thrift store boys clothes, a couple books, some cash procured from your father’s study. It wasn’t fancy, but it got you out of there. Three buses later you showed up on your grandfather’s doorstep in the middle of the night, and that was the end of living with your father. 

Now all this time has passed, and here you are with him again. Your father, the play-pretend-king, pasty and sick and barking orders from hospital beds. He looks at you a little kinder now. You’re a healer. You’re part of the team that saved his life twice over. Your father shouts at everyone in that room who isn’t you, and when they all slope out, he doesn’t tell you to go with them. You see his mask slip a little bit, the sigh of relief that comes when it’s just you and him. The door clicks shut and the room is too quiet. 

“You’re kind of an ass,” you tell him, but your voice is soft. “Do you know that?” Your father’s laugh hacks through the silence, descends into coughing.

“It got me—this far—didn’t it?” He said, but his smile slips away quickly. He isn’t fooling anyone. He isn’t fooling you. You’re sure he can see it in your eyes.

“Listen,” you say, and it’s almost like you’re that frightened seventeen year old again. I want you to call me Connor. “You’re sick. You’re doing okay for now, but we both know how this ends.”

“Are you reminding me—that I’m going to die someday?” Your father asks, this tiny smile on his face, so forced and humourless that he almost looks afraid. Of you. 

“I’m telling you,” you start, “that you know what we have to do here.”

“Do I?” Your father’s voice is barely more than a whisper. You can see it on him, how he wants to look commanding, how desperately he wishes this hospital bed were his throne. You give him a look, an almost-smile. Something sympathetic. You see his hands shaking softly on the bed, and it turns your stomach. You lower yourself into the chair at his bedside.

“We have to talk about this,” you tell him. “About everything.” 

The silence stretched so long between you it felt like miles rather than seconds. “Yeah,” he admits at last. “I suppose you’re right, Connor.”

[thebvtchinghour]

( JACK MULHERN, TWENTY-ONE, HE/HIM )┊seems like CYRUS OZMAN has left the isle to come over to auradon. they are the child of THEODORA and have TWO SIBLINGS. i’ve heard they’re known to be CHARMING + MOODY. rumor has it they HAVE teamed up with the villains. maybe we should keep an eye on this one. ( hylia )

                         ❛  girl , would it kill you just to throw a little bit of attention ??? ❜                             playlist. pinterest. to listen as you read.                             ( plz ignore the playlist cover + fc section of the board ; normally                             cyrrie’s fc is. a lil bit different. first time i’m using jack for him bc                              grizz in the society is That Bitch. ) click for more under the cut !!!                              tws : bullying , toxic relationships , depression ,                             drugs & alcohol ( mention ) ,  smoking ( mention )

not much of an introduction rn bc i’m a lil tired and sick so i’ma try and keep this relatively short !! Cyrus is a well-beloved OC of mine I’ve had for about three years , but this is the first time I’m writing him as a child of Theodora since his creation. So yeah , here we go !

HISTORY

On the Isle, Cyrus was a much different child than the man he is today ; believe it or not , he used to be sweet , quiet , polite , etc. - but growing up on the Isle hardens you , and unfortunately Cyrus wasn’t spared that fate.

Bullied as a kid for the reasoning he just didn’t like to be bad like most of the other kids , he’d prefer to keep to himself and draw everything in sight - until that bullied escalated , and Cyrus would eventually grow tired of it , even going as far as physically defending himself when receiving the same.

And he always was a natural pickpocket ; maybe it wasn’t the toughest means of proving himself , but sticky fingers were formed in an effort to ‘ fit in ’ - and also , he had a fear of growing poor due to the already unsavory conditions of the Isle.

So... yeah. Baby never had many friends.

When he was a teenager , he fell hard for his first boyfriend - but it was evident Cyrus was only being used and was never truly cared for , given his boyfriend would only talk to him if he brought him something shiny. And then when Cyrus would turn up empty-handed , it would be like he never existed. 

So when the VKs came over from the Isle... it really , really angered Cyrus when his boyfriend immediately ghosted him to try and romance the pretty rich royals of Auradon.

Their relationship was never healthy - but besides his siblings, his boyfriend was the only person in his life that never left him. Until now. And here he was alone, again.

So this would lead a lonely boy to dive deep into the magic he’d always been talented with on the Isle , that nobody else knew how much potential he had save for his family. He’d study , now focusing on solely becoming powerful in magic to the point he’d even call himself magic to feel better about himself.

And six months later , with research and practice and building up a reputation for himself as an underground magic prodigy , he only wanted two things: power , and money , to laugh in the face of those that had only kicked him down in his past. Even though , he knew he was only lying to himself , and the only thing he’d ever want in his life was love.

PERSONALITY & FACTS

Basics - Cyrus is trans male, panromantic pansexual w/ a slight lean towards men, diagnosed bipolar ( like me so I promise u I know what I’m talkin about ) and again - one of my favorite OCs to write. Ever. Like normally he’s the very first OC I bring into groups.

So in a nutshell !! Cyrus is a major facade - on the outside , he acts like an arrogant party boy only concerned with getting money and using magic for the prior reason. He does magic “favors” for people and essentially is sort of a magic dealer in that sense - enchanted objects, spells, you name it? He’ll sell you it.

But this is to hide the fact that he is actually scared , lonely , and hurt. He’s too afraid to admit that to anyone since he does NOT want to be used and hurt again. He has a huge heart - but he doesn’t want anyone to know that. It’s easier to act like you don’t have feelings ; or at least , that’s what he thinks.

In reality , he just wants someone to give him attention , love , and care. He wants to be special to someone and valued - to be told he matters.

But that doesn’t mean Cyrus isn’t actually talented in his act - aside from being an INCREDIBLE witch , he’s also extremely charismatic and can talk his way out of almost any situation. It’s what makes him such a good thief , too , since he can easily distract.

By his mouth. Because he never shuts the fuck up.

He has a habit of drinking and partying as also to fit in this mask , to try and numb himself to fill that annoying fucking hole he feels in his chest. And the euphoria of it all is all temporary - in this sense , it’s also why he practices more... costy forms of magic.

He attends parties and social gatherings a lot , yes , but every time he knows he’d rather be home alone.

So I also mentioned he IS siding with the villains - ...because one of them is paying him. This is unknown to nobody except the people on the side of the villains , and in reality , Cyrus is only working for them because of the money and also because of revenge on his ex for abandoning him like he was nothing. But he needs to be pulled back to reality and realize that it’s not worth it.

Big into Pagan witchcraft , too !! Tarot cards , crystals , divination - you name it. He almost always has crystals on his person whether they’re in the forms of rings , pendants , earrings - anything. Also regularly smokes a pipe full of opium incense as a stress reliever ( bc yk... wicked witch of the west... opium is from poppy seeds... )

Admittedly falls a lot into classic witch imagery and stuff like his mom because frankly? He just thinks it’s funny. He can ride a broom, sometimes wears large black floppy hats with sunglasses, even has a pair of ( faux ) ruby boots. A lot of his shirts also have a black and white striped pattern.

Also I’m gonna share his clothing aesthetic bc frankly I think it’s cool - lots of chokers, leather jackets, sunglasses, laced fingerless gloves, black painted nails, striped shirts, LOTS OF BLACK... he’s also rly fond of headbands.

Has a huge fear of water thanks to knowing what it does to his mom.

He’s always had an interest in ghosts and the supernatural - trying to practice necromancy for that reason to speak with the dead.

Most people expect his favorite color to be green - but shockingly? It’s blue.

Inspirations bc I love that shit !!

Sabrina Spellman ( CAOS )

Theodora ( duh )

Madison Montgomery & Misty Day ( AHS: Coven )

Violet Harmon ( AHS: Murder House )

Midna & Princess Zelda ( The Legend of Zelda )

Klaus Hargreeves ( The Umbrella Academy )

WANTED CONNECTIONS 

SO. I’d love like... a Weird Sisters like connection of three people ( including Cyrus ) who specialize in magic and hang together and cause trouble with it?? All the time??? Please give me this??

Listen gimme folks Cyrus has dealt magic shit too. Please. Please. This can either end positively or negatively considering he is the way he is.

People who know Cyrus and are aware pretty much everything about him is just an act.

People who spite him bc of this

People who want to HELP him bc of this

PLEEEEEEEEEEEASE

Someone he was going to curse for someone else but then chickened out at the last minute bc I’ll be honest he’s not heartless and he certainly would feel bad 

People he never got along with on the Isle tbh

ppl who genuinely want to be his friend but he keeps pushing away bc dude has trust issues for days

.........maybe the ex-boyfriend? Maybe????

hook-ups bc homie certainly has a habit of sleeping around

unrequited crushes?? exes?? that stuff bc let’s make all my sons cry???

also would love sort of like a skinny love where he feels one way towards a muse and they reciprocate but he can’t be w/ them bc he’s well aware of all his issues and shit ( this would have to be decided after checking out chemistry and stuff )

just eneMIES PLEEEEEEEEEEEEASE

magic rivals that are constantly trying to one-up each other

ummmm also feel free to brainstorm w/ me bc this is getting long !!

 i’m gonna end this here bt yeah !! please feel free to hmu for plotting or my discord - rocky lynch lovebot / hylia.#0329 . :^) so sorry this is messy nnnnnnnnnng

[hellaciousdecimation]

☾

☾ - What was the first idea that inspired the creation of each of your trolls, and do they still embody that idea now?I have, A LOT of trolls, so I’ll just tell you the concepts for the ones I’ve got on here and am going to have on here once their sprites are done. Emmez - Social media junkie street-goth who’s super positive and supportiveFiscus - Fiscus’s name belongs to an old fantroller, who’s surname was as such, they said that it’d be a good fantroll name and I asked if I could use it, then made my franken-troll heavily based on my love for alchemySancta - One of my first 12 trolls, Sancta was based on myself a lot, Starting as a androgynous kid who didn’t know what gender they were, evolved into a trans-guy. Sancta was heavily based on anti-religion feelings I had as a kid, using the cross of st.peter due to it’s use in pop culture as an anti catholic/christian symbol (but just as it’s really a super pro-christian/catholic symbol sancta had some faith-questioning as he grew up despite being anti-subjug) Sancta’s name comes from Sanctum/sanctuary and Impious. Godryn- Body horror mob boss. Godryn started way more disfigured in the face, wearing a mask that he still owns but once meeting his mate, he’s been less uncomfortable with his appearance, and as he’s explored Ginknisi, and killed off the beings from there, his appearance has warped to his liking. Gochee - Tamagotchi Serial killer. She “forgets” about her victims by sealing them off in cells in her basement until they die, then she opens the cells and uses their bodies to make food for her dogs, which are instagram famous. Hyzier - Mercury based Fluxcore, one of my original species. His design was inspired by hyenas. Tai - Tai started off as an SCP oc, who was a sentient anomaly that possessed a gasmask that would then posses those wearing it. He eventually, along with his two other scp-inspired siblings would end up being the first fluxcores, one of my original species that I’ve created.  Mai - Alien A.I put into a robotic body by a troll. M.A.I stands for Malicious Artificial Intelligence, and the A.I was to be violent, which the troll who found it tried to fix before being killed by it. Aildyn- Based on the wau and the constructs in Soma, Both the A.I melding itself with Aildyn and the M.A.I are of the same origin, but in Aildyn’s case I wanted something more akin to the humans being taen over and kept alive by the haywire wau in Soma. I also really wanted to use the glitch brushes i foun for clipstudio.Angelo- Fish gang leader for the gang Aildyn was to be in, Made specifically for that. Tivasi- The hybrid son of Tai King and Vaetis/VHS (@kovani’s boy) Khivol- Eldritch cult worshipper, really I think he came from me just playing with a design and wanting to do something with eldritch gods, which i love. Lystal - Khivol’s twin sister who’s an ex cop and a paranormal detective. I wanted someone to try and be the antagonist to Khivol’s decisionsSidian- Obsidian blooded asshole part of a group-troll project made by AshtrollsDexsin - Mercury blooded troll, who’s head sometimes gets fucked up by his blood. also part of the group-troll thing ash startedSweedi- my last troll part of ash’s thing, Sweedi has white-holo pearlish blood, She’s a beauty icon, making clothes and makeup for her own company.Poppie  - I wanted to make a fantroll based on my late hamster Poppy, who i miss dearly. Poppie, also known as hamstar, was originally a j-pop idol inspired character who was super peppy and happy, focused on cuteness and positivity. She’s getting a bit of a revamp, as she’s leaving that career behind because she’s sick of being pg13,Averin- Ave was an adopt that i made into a conspiracy theorist, who’s largely shut in and keeps to himself. J’eidah- I wanted to make a special operations hunter who’s one of the empire’s best. She’s the kind of person who can do their own thing because they’re so good at what they do and always get the job done when it needs to get done. her design was based on some images i fell in love with an an image i had in my head,