#I say the word trans more than my own name i am not being followed by transphobes. i am a fandom hater at core the weirdos have me blocked

[abslghost]

i don't think dni s are stupid I just think they could be used wirh a little more thought ... people generally don't think before they interact so relying on a feature that they can only access by doing more steps than the typical required for a silly like on a post is a little ... eh... my real advice if you want to avoid X group of people/Y topic is just blocking people and muting words

[grave-z-boy]

Right so I love your writing and just need more mx m cause fuck I'm tired of imaging dead me .

I'm a Trans man..I think ( female to male ??) So I was hoping for a fic somewhat like that . Arthur and reader meet when they're female but 2 years later or so they meet again and arthur doesnt recognize y/n (because they transitioned) I just want some fluff and acceptance of that . I know back then homosexuality was a big no no and being trans is unheard of so it'll be fun to see where you take it.

Arthur Morgan x Trans!Male!Reader

Summary: You’ve felt stuck and unhappy for years, so, in pursuit of your own happiness you leave everyone and everything you’ve even known behind. Including your currently out of state lover, Arthur Morgan.

Word count: 6,011

Warnings: reader is a bartender, reader steals, readers sister and mother are mentioned, implied past sex between Arthur and reader, drinking and alcoholism mentioned (not reader or Arthur), y/n and his guns, guns mentioned, shooting mentioned, abandonment, hurt comfort, reader being One Of The Guys™️, sleep deprived Arthur, Tilly being helpful, reader get misgendered and deadnamed a lot but it’s before they knew he was trans, reader cries really fucking hard at one point Arthur being sleep deprived, sleep deprive Arthur being really gay for Reader, not mentioned in the story but the reason Arthur is so tired is because about half way though his second trip to town his horse bucked him off for pushing her too hard and he had to walk the rest of the way, worlds longest warning list damn

Sept. 15, 18XX

My Dear Arthur Morgan

It’s been thirteen months since I saw you last. The time has passed slowly for me- sometimes it felt as though I was standing still for days at a time. Like everyone and everything around me was moving forward- but for me, and only me, time stood still. In the months since you’ve left it seems my joy, as well as a my love for my home town, has dwindled to nothing. Staying here, the way I am, it pains my heart. I know I said I would be here, that I would wait for you to return. But I need to change and the change that I need cannot be achieved here. The people here know me, they’ve known me my whole life, and no matter what I do I will always be that same little girl to them.

I’m heading up to a little town in Nevada, maybe I can start over there.

Always yours, D/n.

Arthur received your final letter months ago. In the time since he’s read it hundreds of times, mulling over every little detail. The crumbles in the paper, the unevenness of your writing, the all too familiar tear stains that permanently warped small circles on the page, the way your name ripped through the paper, as though you’d traced it dozens of times before sending it off.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever understand what happened, why after all this time of waiting, all this time of writing him dozens of love letters, why you decided to say goodbye, he understood change. Arthur has seen people change, he’s changed, and if it was change you needed he’d do it again. But you left. If he really wanted to, he could find you, ride day and night, ask everyone he saw if they’d seen the beautiful woman that he loved more than anything. But…

You didn’t want that. You didn’t want to be hunted down, you didn’t need to be convinced. You needed change, not a reason to stay the same. So he let you go and even when the following days were filled with the nothing but pain and confusion and the complete desolation your decision brought, he still let you go.

The gang knew he was hurting, he was withdrawn, went off on his own for a couple of days. They figured he went to find you, but when he returned, without you and in a severely worse state, they knew not to press him on it.

You weren’t much better.

This was your decision and you were going to live with it. You yearned for Arthur, every day and every night, it was different from waiting for him in your hometown, he was the one who’d left then, but you knew he’d come back to you one day. Now you were the one leaving, and you could never go back to him.

You needed to move on, you sold every piece of clothing you had to a local tailor, it was almost funny to see some of your nicer dresses displayed in the window the next morning, early on, your new wardrobe came from various drunk men. You’d be surprised just how much you could find in an alley next to a bar. After you had an outfit, a proper male outfit, you were able to assimilate.

You lived above a tavern. The owner was far too old and far too tired to run it anymore, and he wanted to live in his own house for the first time in decades, so he offered you the place for a little over a hundred bucks. You worked at the bar at night, while you handled various chores and other responsibilities during the day. The pay wasn’t great, but you had a permanent place to stay and spare food from the bar to eat, and it was more than enough.

You’d taken up a new name, y/n, you thought about it for a long time before you left. A good name, the name of a proud man with no connection to who you were before. No one ever questioned you. You were just a man to them. They teased you, in the earlier days, called you feminine, pointed out your hand, your cheeks, and your hips among other things, but in the end it was just teasing, they didn’t know why you were like that, and they didn’t question when you put in an effort to change or hide your more feminine aspects. Maybe they were just too drunk to care.

You loved this life, you were just the friendly bartender.

But even with this new life, you found yourself missing aspects of you’re old one.

Your old friends, your old family, your old lover. They wouldn’t take you back, not like this, they’d think something was wrong, they’d try to change you, try force you back into the box you clawed yourself out of.

But still you dreamed of them, your sisters cooking, the way she was effortlessly graceful even when she was teasing you, your friends, the girls you’ve know since you were in diapers, singing, making flower crowns, getting into trouble. Arthur…

You dreamed of Arthur the most. Your days and nights were filled with thoughts of him. You think back to your last night together, the way he held you so tightly, you swore you could still feel his hands there. The praises he muttered, the love he confessed through out the night, every move he made, the way he left and the hole that was left in your chest after.

You dreamed of him, like one day you’d wake up and he’d be beside you. And he tell you that he loved you, not d/n, not the girl from before, but you, y/n, as your truest self.

But just like yesterday, and the days before that, he wasn’t there when you opened your eyes.

The sun was just coming up. But the sliver of light that did shine through the window seemed to magically be angled at your eyes. Making the rest you so desperately wanted impossible.

You pushed yourself up with a groan, your elbow popping the moment you were upright, your eyes were just barely open, you scratched your chest and let out a long yawn.

Your room was still dark for the most part, but you were still able to pull on some pants and fasten a belt so you could head downstairs. The tavern was empty, you cleaned up good last night and you wouldn’t have to worry about really opening until later. Still, you unlocked the front door and flipped the wooden sign in the window to say open, the people here knew you weren’t really open to serve, you were just open to the chatty people that passed through in the morning, locals coming to say hi, or travelers in need of direction, others came to sit with their friends and get out of the violent Nevada sun. Either way, you’d be polite enough to them, but they weren’t welcome for a drink for another couple of hours.

Stepping into the backyard you picked the laundry off the line and into a basket. You heard the bell up on top of the front door ring a couple of times. As you got closer to the back door you could hear the faint chatter of two people inside, Doctor Mayer, one of three doctors in town, and Anita, a house wife. She was in here more often than her husband was, but you always figured that she just needed something to do while he worked considering you’ve only ever seen her drink a handful of times in the past year.

When you came through the back door she let out an excited yelp,

“Y/n!” She shouted, like she hadn’t seen you the night before.

“Mrs. Matthews.” You said with a respectful nod. “How’s you’re husband?”

She groaned, “paranoid.”

Setting the basket down on the bar, in between the upturned stools, you turned back to her.

“He used to be a farmer, farmers are always paranoid.”

“He was not a damn farmer, don’t let that man fool you, he was a farm hand, it’s different,”

Dr. Mayer piped in, his voice low and tired, though that just how he always sounded, “the bastard smells like one…”

“It’s getting warmer out there.” You responded, leaning against the bar.

“Doesn’t mean he has to walk around smelling like a damn animal!”

You laughed, turning back to Anita, “what does your husband do anyway?”

“He’s a banker, which is why he’s so damn paranoid in the first place.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well..” she stated, adjusting herself in her chair, “one of his colleague’s brother-in-law told his colleague that he saw a gang ‘a outlaws heading up this way, but here’s the kicker, Johnny, the colleague, is a notorious liar. Lies left and right like his life depends on it.”

“Johnny Flores?” You asked.

She smacked the table, “That’s the bastard!”

“Yeah, he comes in here every Wednesday like clockwork, telling the boys his stories. It’s a surprise the whole town hasn’t heard about this..”

“Well, it isn’t Wednesday yet, is it? It’ll make it’s way into you’re bar, don’t worry”

You laughed again, grabbing the basket off the table you said, “Alright, I’ll be back in a minute, got a few more thing to settle.”

You weren’t too worried about the rumors, there wasn’t much in the town anyways, no sheriff either so if they did come and make noise, it’d be a free for all and they’d leave with less than they came with. Everybody had a gun, hell- you had two, a shotgun the last owner had given you, and a pistol Arthur had given you a few weeks before he left, one was under the bar on a shelf, the other was under your bed, you’ve never really had a need for either, but if Johnny was being truthful for once in his life, which you doubted, you figured it was good to have them.

That night, when the bar did open, a few unfamiliar faces strode in, though none were to shady. A couple of working girls took to them quick and they were gone after being chatted up by for a bit. Outside of that, it was a normal night.

You closed late, shooing out the last drunk nearly two hours later than usual. Wiping down the tables, flipping the chairs and stools on them, washing the glasses, sweeping, mopping and making sure the front and back door was locked before heading upstairs. You scrubbed yourself down at your washstand. Of all things you missed from your old home, your bathtub was one of the bigger ones. Your mother had invested in it early on, and now you were saving to have one installed here too. What you wouldn’t do for a hot bath after a long day. You were almost there, another fifty dollars and you’d have all the money you needed. That’s were a good portion of your money went, you didn’t mind, after all you’ve sacrificed you deserve something nice.

——-

A couple of weeks later, Wednesday afternoon, Johnny Flores and a couple of his friend decided to take over the seats directly in front of the bar. Again, he told stories of bandits headed your way, but he was “serious” this time.

“I swear, I know what I saw, Dutch’s boys, just like the damn posters! I saw them coming from the east, clear as day.”

Before one of his friend could respond you asked, “and what the hell were you doing in the east, huh?”

“Well-“ he straightened himself out, “I was out with my lady friend-“

“The prostitute-“ his friend, Oscar, interrupted.

“-Not a prostitute, she's a-”

“-escort-” both Johnny and his three friends said together, they've heard that one before.

“Isnt that the same thing?” you asked.

“He doesn't think so!” Oscar said.

“They almost knocked our carriage over!” Johnny shouted, getting the conversation on track.

“Sure they did..” you said, drying the glass in your hand before setting it back down. “Bet they stuck you up too, only let you live cuz you're so pretty.”

“Go to hell, y/n.”

“I'll go where ever your lying, drunk ass ain't.”

“Im not lying, and I’m not drunk either, so get me another whiskey, asshole!”

“Hey now,” Daniel, who was also a regular, piped up, “careful how you talk to him, he might shoot ya’”

You set the glass down in front of him, he snatched it quickly, gulping it down.

“Or I might just piss in your whiskey.”

He choked hard, luckily the drink went down his throat instead of all over your counter, then you would have shot him. His face morphed to one of irritation, but his friend's laughter was infectious and he found himself laughing along with them.

The night ended with you carrying a passed out Johnny to the alley, you cleaned up, scrubbed yourself down, and went to bed just as you always did.

The next morning a delivery was made to the bar, food and alcohol, you kept your meats and some of your more expensive liquor in the ice box and things like bread and supplies were kept on the shelf. Food wasn't ordered commonly in the tavern, but there were those who ate here nearly every night because they had no skill for cooking and no one else to do it for them. You enjoyed those people, and you think they enjoyed you too, especially since the last owner would drive them out if they tried to come in for more than three days in a row. He thought that they were stealing food from other customers, but you didn't, You knew they were just hungry and needed to eat, and they couldn't be stealing because they always paid.

After that, your day was pretty normal- other than what you consider to be one the best things to happen to you in a long time- your bathtub, your beautiful porcelain bathtub with golden feet and faucet, was done. Fully installed and in perfect working order. You weren't going to pretend to understand how the man you paid did it, but he did. And finally, after what felt like years, you were able to take a hot bath.

It was weird, staring down at your distorted body as you soaked. Usually, when you scrubbed yourself down at the washstand all you could think of was how desperately you wanted this to be over. Your mind was clear, but that clarity only lasted so long though, as it did most nights, your mind wander to Arthur.

Saying you missed him was redundant, it was meaningless, it was stupid. You know, but you did. Letting out a long sigh, the last time you saw Arthur was like a dream, you spent an entire day together, you woke up together, ate together, bathed together, dressed together- everything you did, every little move you made reminded you of that day. And with Johnny spreading rumors about the Dutch’s gang, you heard his name more and more. You let yourself sink into the water, your eyes clenched shut as warm water covered your face. You stayed there longer that you should have, when you finally sat up, you were nearly gasping for air.

You got out few minutes later, you were tired, dressing yourself halfway before collapsing into bed.

You didn’t dream that night, your mind either too tired or too pained to show you your usual fantasies.

——-

Arthur swore he wouldn’t look for you, he swore it to you and to himself that he’d let you be free. But it seemed unavoidable now. Dutch had settled the gang in a large clearing in Nevada, the gang was mostly hidden by a small chain of mountains, and there was a streak of towns and settlements all within a couple dozen miles from each other.

There weren’t many cities in Nevada, it was dry and damn near impossible to farm out here if you didn’t know what you were doing, and if that wasn’t enough, the heat would be.

You were out there somewhere.

Dealing with the heat, with the drought, and with the shitty crops. And you still didn’t go back home. He’s been to your home. He's gone back dozens of times, you were never there, whatever you wanted to do, whatever changes you made, you succeded. He was happy for you, you were happy, God he hoped you were happy- he doesn't know what he'd do if he found out you weren't. If you were somewhere miserable and sulking, all this time, when you could have been with him.

He pushed those thoughts back- you were happy, you had to be.

When Arthur mentioned he was riding into the nearest town, he got a few odd looks. It wasn't a secret that you'd run off to Nevada, not even close. Most didn't say much, maybe a quick good luck, or a request for something from town. Some didn't say anything, but Dutch did. Dutch warned him, warned him about you and how some changes weren't good, and if Arthur did see you that he needed to be careful.

Arthur wasn't one to ignore advice, and he didn't ignore it, he thought about it as he road through the desert lands of Nevada, but whatever changes you made, he could handle it. He wasn't a child, he didn't need have his hand held. There wasn't even a guarantee that you'd been in this town, or the next one. So for all he knew he'd never have to face you're changes.

The town was bustling with life. The people went about their business. The town was…normal. Small, busy, and normal. He road in unbothered, no one here seemed to care enough to even look when the man when he trotted by.

Hitching his horse to a sturdy pole he set off to one of the small shops nearby, after picking up some extra oat cakes and apples for the horse, he tried to find the sheriff’s office, only to find that this town didn't have one after asking a mildly disheveled yet nicely dressed man for directions, no government either. The town was its own unit outside of the occasional trading.

“Danny Hikman used to be the law here, well, not really, but he kept people on the right track. Encouraged them to do right- and get guns, he used to run a bar a little down the way, gave it to his nephew or something-” the man said, laughing slightly.

“‘ bar any good?” he asked, only half listening to the man.

“The best, fresh food, cold whiskey- bartenders a good guy too, won't hesitate to throw your ass out though.”

“I’ll bet- which way’s that bar, again?”

———

You started serving earlier than usual today, mostly so you could close earlier without complaint. The familiar chime of the bell above the door called your attention for a less than a second, you recognized Johnny, then looked back down at the glasses you were cleaning.

“Changing your schedule on me, Johnny? I thought you were a Wednesday man?”

He let out a short laugh, sitting in the spot directly in front of you, “just showing a friend around.”

“You’re friends are all alcoholics, I doubt they need help finding a bar.”

“Hey now, I’ve got a new friend. Mr. Uhh-“

“Arthur.”

You felt like you’d just jumped out of your skin, the glass in your hand clattered against the floor, ever so sturdy. Landing thankful one piece. Staring at the man in front of you, standing just behind Johnny, Arthur Morgan, right there, looking just the way he did when he left, just the way you remember him.

He glanced at Johnny, then back at you- it felt like he looked right through you. Looking at you with none of the love or adoration from before. Because he loved d/n, not y/n. Y/n was just a bartender to him, an awful one who apparently couldn’t even hold a damn glass.

Your heart felt like it was collapsing in on itself, your chest was tight and you could feel your throat start to close as tears weld in your eyes. Quickly, you broke eye contact with Arthur, ducking down under the bar to grab the glass, using the sleeves of your shirt to wipe the forming tears in your eyes before standing up.

“Sorry boys,” you muttered, “you’re, uh, friend startled me is all.”

Taking off his hat and setting down on the counter, Arthur took a seat on one of the stools.

“Sorry, your friend here talked you up quite a bit, had to see for myself if what he said was true.”

You let out a laugh, forced and almost nervous, setting the glass down with the rest of the dirty glasses, you said, “Trust me, it’s true, what you looking for Mr. Arthur?”

“Just Arthur, and whiskey, thanks.”

You nodded to the man before heading to the storage room, you’d hate to admit it, but you wanted to run, straight passed the storage room and out the back door. But that would make Arthur think something was wrong, and yes, something was wrong, but he didn’t need to know that. He didn’t recognize you, and that was okay, it was supposed to be okay, you left so you wouldn’t be recognized, you left to start over. But he’s out there, and you were hiding in the storage room so you wouldn’t have to face him. You gave yourself a moment, for your throat to release and for your heart to stop pounding and aching. Only the pounding stopped. You needed to work, you couldn’t let them know anything was wrong.

Grabbing a bit of higher quality whiskey out of the icebox, feeling the frosty glass sting your hand as you carried it out of the storage room. Without looking up at the man you grabbed one of the clean glasses and poured him about half a glass. You remember Arthur complaining about it once, only getting serviced the tiniest amount of alcohol, no matter the price. Capping the bottle you gave a short wordless nod before setting it under the counter. Arthur grabbed the glass, before he could speak you were on the other side of the bar, serving somebody else.

Johnny didn’t stay long, he had other things to do on a Thursday afternoon, but Arthur stayed, you poured him a couple more glasses before cutting him off, at least from your expensive whiskey.

“How much do I owe you?” He ask, his speech a bit slurred as he sat unsteadily in his seat.

“Nothing, I’ll put it on Johnny’s tab, come Wednesday he won’t notice it.”

“Thank you kindly-“

“Y/n-“

“Thank you, y/n.”

“You have a good night Mr. Morgan.”

You crawled into bed that night, still in your day clothes, feeling like your heart had been torn out of your chest. And you cried, you cried until the sun came up, until your body couldn't cry anymore and every sound you made was a rough heaving sob. And when you had no more energy left to sob, you stared at your open window, watching the sunrise, listening to the people.

You were supposed to open today, unlocking the door and flipping the sign, staring out the window, at the people, at Mrs. Matthews waiting across the street for you to open your doors.

You flipped the sign back, you stated at the word “OPEN” facing you, then at Mrs. Matthews's face fell as the word “CLOSED” faced her.

————

Sitting on his cot, journal on his lap, Arthur stared at the picture he drew. It wasn't perfect, considering he was half drunk when he drew it, but it was something. The bartender from last night. He was…something. A nervous something. Arthur felt bad for him when he dropped the glass, then he just…stared at him, long enough for Arthur to get a spark of familiarity when he saw his face. Arthur tried to get his attention as the night went on, ordering drinks, asking questions, trying to get the man to stay close, be he'd walk away the moment he'd answered or served him.

He wasn't like that with other patrons, he laughed, he joked- then he kicked everyone out.

He heard him say he was closing early, but let him stay until he finished his last drink. Arthur thought about the name he'd given. Y/n.

“I see you're drawing d/n again, did you catch her in town?”

Looking up he saw Tilly standing next to him with a kind smile on her face.

“No, it's not d/n, some bartender in town, he looks so familiar.”

Tilly hummed, sitting on the cot with Arthur and taking the book out of his lap. She flipped through the pages quickly before finding a drawing of d/n, with your final letter stuck right next to it.

“Needs a change, huh? Maybe she skipped town and became a bartender, you never know.”

“A bartender and a man?”

“You never know Arthur. Maybe that's why she left, couldn't make a change like that where people know you. They would've hunted her down.”

“Tilly..”

“Maybe you should talk to the bartender, if it's not her then it's not her, but if it is, are you really going to miss seeing her again because you won't take a chance?”

Handing the journal back to him she said, “Just think about it, at least.” Then she walked away.

————

You heard the slam of the front door behind you as you sat the freshly cleaned glasses on the rack. If you were going to sulk and lock yourself in the bar then you were going to clean while you did it.

“We’re closed..” you said, your tone not exactly customer friendly.

You had a list of things you needed to do, you've already mopped the floor, scrubbed the tables and walls, washed every glass, plate, and utensil, did your laundry, scrubbed your tub, cleaned your room-

“D/n..?”

You paused, then glanced over your shoulder. You knew it was him, you already knew, you knew his voice too well to ever mistake it. Taking a breath, you hands shaking and heart pounding, you turned around.

“Arthur, I-” you breathed out, but you didn't know what to say. “How did you-”

“Lucky guess..”

Taking slow steps towards the bar, you heard him sigh.

“Are you…okay?” he asked, unsure.

You nodded, “Yeah, yeah I'm okay.”

“We should talk-”

“Yes, we should-”

You stepped from behind the counter, still unsure as to what could happen next. Then, without warning, you were pulled into a tight hug, Arthurs's body practically enveloping yours. You stood there, holding him as tightly as you could until your arms started to burn from the strain.

You didn't know what to say, or how to explain what happened, the realization you went through while he was gone, why you left.

When you pulled away you still didn’t know what to say, you opened your mouth to talk but no words came out. You kept your face glued to the ground for a long moment.

“You look different, I didn’t recognize you yesterday..”

You pulled out one of the stools.

“I told you I needed change.”

He pulled another out beside you.

“I know, I just don’t know what I was expecting.”

“This must be so confusing.”

“It is, but I’m betting it was more confusing for you that it could be for anybody else.”

Leaning on the counter, you looked up at him.

“I guess so. In my home town I figured that they’d be a little more angry than confused so I left..” you stopped, taking a breath, “I didn’t want to leave you, Arthur.”

Arthur sat there silently, his eyes turned towards the counter.

You couldn’t help but stare, you haven’t seen him in so long, his eyebrows were slightly scrunched downward, his pretty blue eyes focused on nothing as his mind raced. His fingers tapped against the counter every few seconds. You tried not to let that anxious feeling in your chest build, but the longer he was silent, the harder it got to push down.

“You said you aren't happy anymore..”

You blinked.

“I wasn't.”

“How about now? Are you happy now?”

“I'm.. I have more good days than I did before, so…yeah, I'm happy.”

He stayed silent for another moment. You figured he was just trying to find his words.

Then, when he did speak,

“I still love you.”

You sighed, “I still love you, too, Arthur.”

Another long silence passed. It was odd, you've dreamed of seeing him again, all the damn time. And now that he's here you didn't know what to say. Your relationship, how ever strong it was before, was dying. Even though you loved him and he loved you.

Arthur was having similar thoughts, he didn't care how much you changed, he wanted you to be happy. That's all he wanted for you. But he wants to be with you, he doesn't care that your a man, it doesn't matter to him, he doesn't think it's ever mattered. He's never thought too hard about it. But now, with you sitting there looking the way you did. Looking so different, so muchlike yourself, so much more at peace even though you were being confronted, he thought, ‘yeah, I could be with a man.’

Before he could, you took a chance.

“How long you thinking of staying in town for, Arthur?”

———-

You laughed, he missed your laugh.

“You can't just go around taking people's clothes off!”

“I needed clothes and they were so drunk they wouldn't miss them!” you argued.

“How have you not been caught yet?”

“I bought new clothes!”

“Why couldn't you do that first?”

“I needed to avoid suspicion.”

“Avoid suspicious by stealing clothes..”

You laughed again.

You and Arthur had found your way upstairs, both of you sat on the floor, leaning back against the wall. He asked you how you ended up here, it was funny, explaining to Arthur, a known outlaw, the various ways you broke the law, and having him lecture you.

“I will not take this from an outlaw!”

“You're an outlaw too, now, Clothes Bandit.”

“Oh that's awful, why couldn't I get something good?”

“‘Good’ like what?”

“I don't know, you're better at naming things than I am.”

He looked over at you a small smile on his face.

“Really now, Mr. Y/n, how’d you come up with that anyways?”

“Well I found a baby naming book.”

He sat up, giving you a look.

“Are you serious?”

You looked at him for a second, a stren expression on your face, then slowly a smile broke out on your face.

“You're an ass.”

“You really think I got Y/n for a baby naming book?”

“You could have!”

“But I didn't-”

Eventually, after showing him your room and the various aspects of your new life that you adored (yes, the tub too), you headed back down to the bar, only to see Daniel, one of Johnny’s friends, behind the bar serving himself.

“Daniel, I'm going to kill you, how many drinks have you had?” you said, rushing over to him, snatching both the glass and bottle from his hand.

“One-” you gave him a look, he caved quickly with a sigh, “five.”

“Goddamnit.”

“‘M sorry, you are closed, your never closed!”

“I wouldn't be serving drinks this early anyways!”

He laughed, walking around to the other side of the bar, “I'm special though right? Won't get shot or banned or nothing?” he practically pleaded, but formed it like a question.

“No, you're not banned, but you still need to leave.”

He sighed, dragging himself out the door.

Sighing yourself, you turned to Arthur, “See what I have to deal with?”

“‘Seems like a handful.”

“Daniel is harmless, he's just an alcoholic.”

“Never met a harmless alcoholic.”

“He's harmless now, he doesn't want to risk almost getting shot again.”

Arthur laughed, sitting at the bar, just like had yesterday, “Who shot at him?”

You stared at him for a moment.

“You?”

“I gave him plenty of warning, see that hole in the wall that there—” you pointed to the very back wall of the tavern, between two tables was a loosely patched hole, “- warning shot, missed him by an inch.”

“Who the hell taught you how to shoot?”

“I taught myself, maybe I could teach you sometime.”

“Very funny, y/n, I wouldn't mind seeing you shoot sometime though.”

“There's a range in the next town, I could take you there sometime.”

The two of you talked until the sun had fully set and the town had gone quiet. The bar made you feel more open somehow, it always did. Arthur helped too, you guess. You missed him, you missed being like this, so normal with him. You were surprised his quickly things settled back in place, like neither of you had ever left. It was clear that you were different, but Arthur seemed to accept this change flawlessly. He never messed up, seemingly having ingrained every aspect of your new life into his mind.

Y/n, Mr.Y/n, Sir, he even called you handsome, you swear you nearly fell over when he did.

By midnight, you both were tired, and despite what he planned before, which was bringing you- if it was you, back to camp with him. But that plan never fell through, you ended up pulling him into the bathroom with you. You thought you'd be uncomfortable at first, but you figured if he was going to be back in your life you should get used to him seeing you naked again. But it wasn't, it was calm, comforting. You were thankful for your massive bath, the both of you fit well, you sat behind him, his hat tossed in on top of the heap of clothes you two had left, you ran your fingers through his hair, water from your hands running down his face. He hummed in contempt. He didn't speak much at first, simply enjoying you and your presence. It wasn't until the water had begun to cool and the cold air of the Nevada night started to seep in did he pressed himself closer to you, muttering something quietly.

It wasn't until you got out, long after the water cooled, we're you able to figure out what he was saying. You had some clothes you figured might fit Arthur, something you'd bought impulsively without actually checking to see if you could fit it.

“You have…nice arms-” he muttered.

You were pulling your pants up over your waist when he spoke, you turned to look at him, one hand holding your unbuttoned pants up, you asked, “Arthur, are you drunk?”

“No, no I'm just…real tired.”

“Didn't get much sleep?”

“I didn't sleep, I kept thinking of you.”

“When was the last time you slept?”

He groaned, “Tuesday, I was on watch Wednesday, I was pre occupied by your ass on Thursday, and now here we are.”

“Fucking Christ, go to sleep.”

“I want to look at you, I missed you-”

“I'll be here in the morning Arthur.”

He didn't respond for a long moment, you figured he dozed off finally, until you decided to switch shirts, shoving the one you had on into your drawer and pulling out another.

“You have a nice back too-”

“Good night, Arthur.”

Your night ended with you curling up around Arthur, your arms nearly wrapped completely around him. You didn't dream again tonight, your usual fantasies of seeing Arthur were deemed useless now and we're thrown out with the rest of today's mental trash.

[vaspider]

I have a question about your post about the garbage you get having a large follower count. I didn't see it mentioned in the reblogs.

How does this work with Tumblr? For example, say you made a post about some relatable trans masc experience. By the time I'm seeing it, it's got a bunch of really good additions but no one on any of the reblog chains has mentioned some connected trans masc experience that I've had.

It doesn't seem that screenshotting it and cropping out all the usernames is the best option (everyone deserves credit for their good info). But if that post has 10k notes, it's probably making your notifications unusable. So, it seems like it might be a risk to add my 2 cents and further blow up your notifications because my 2 cents might be 0 cents to you or others reading it. On the other hand, it also might be a whole dollar to someone who was a whole dollar short and since I don't have a large follower count, if I made my own post with that addition it might never get seen by someone that needs it.

Am I making sense? I'm worried that my 4am lack of sleep brain is making me not make sense. But I wanted to ask because I would really hate to be doing it wrong and cause you and any other large blogger here frustration they don't need.

The thing that matters to me is that people are like, taking a moment to look in the notes before they add to stuff, just to see if it's been mentioned 20 times, and that they're not, like, super shitty if I'm like "hey, we talked this to death already and you didn't see it in the notes bc I blocked the person so it won't show up in the notes, if you want to keep talking about this, make your own post."

And also that it's not like ... giving the most obvious advice to me as OP. You know, the "well have you tried yoga" kind of reply.

If you're putting a good faith effort in to not be a douche, don't worry too much about my notifications. It only really bugs me when people are either openly dickweeds (shit like tags that say "vaspider sucks so much and I hate him but he makes a good point so I'm reblogging JUST THIS ONCE" or whatever are just evidence of being a truly unbearable human being) or get shitty when I say like "please drop this particular line."

I would rather prefer people not screenshot my writing and blot out my name, though, bc that shit happens an annoying amount. Oftentimes it's people who are using my words for clout (weird) or attaching their own ko-fi links (weirder, and happened more than once with the Pete Buttigieg essay), and both of those things kinda suck. I am a lot of things, but two things I'm not are an object or a public resource.

So, yeah.

[rainbowsky]

Happy Pride! 💖🌈🦄

Happy Pride, everyone!

I wanted to celebrate Pride this year by sharing some great up-beat queer anthems - songs from some of the groundbreaking queer artists who have been raising their voices to make the world a better place every day. Let's celebrate diversity together! 😘

Domo Wilson - Bisexual Anthem

Domo Wilson should really be the one to start the Pride festivities this year, with this amazing, amazing, amazing Bisexual Anthem. Songs like this are rare - great message AND good song. This woman is fucking brilliant. (Sexually explicit lyrics).

Brenda Fassie - Vuli Ndlela

Africa's first openly gay pop star Brenda Fassie is an incredible talent. Her voice, her style, everything about the way she sings is utterly captivating, compelling and packed full of emotion - whether it be joy or misery.

I discovered her a while back and had that tragic modern experience of falling in love with an artist and then immediately being pitched into grief as I learned about her difficult life and too early death.

Some of you might be familiar with the Chinese term, 'jaiyou' which literally means 'add oil' or more generally, 'go for it!' Vuli ndlela is a similar term that means 'make way!'

The song is about sticking it to gossipy neighbours on her son's wedding day (because they thought he'd never marry and find lasting love), but over the years it has become a popular anthem of empowerment and encouragement.

Troye Sivan and Gordi - Wait

Who can resist a dreamy, sweet duet with two queer darlings?

Muna - Pink Chiffon (feat. Phoebe Bridgers)

I've shared this song before on my blog but it's such a sweet, catchy, up-beat song it deserves to be shared again.

Beth Ditto - We Could Run

One of the greatest - and most consistently and criminally underrated - voices in music.

Kehlani - Altar

This isn't an artist I've followed in the past, but this particular song is so infectious, I absolutely love it.

Shae Diamond - I Am Her

In her own words:

"My name is Shea Diamond, Singer/Songwriter based in NYC by way of Flint, MI. I was born into a gender role that I did not accept & I didn’t feel like myself. Desperate to find the financial means to transition to my true gender, I committed a crime in 1999 & was sentenced to 10 years in a men's prison. While incarcerated, I found a community that shared my trans experience - it was there where I found my voice. I began writing “I Am Her” as a statement to a world that said I shouldn't exist. I wrote it as an anthem for all those that felt shunned for simply being who they were. In 2009 I was released from prison. Shortly after my release, I moved to New York City where I found a studio to record “I Am Her” and the means to create a video for my song."

Ria Mae - Bend

Canadian pop sensation Ria Mae, yet another criminally underrated artist whose work speaks for itself. Let's give her some love as her home town and province have been suffering intense and dangerous wildfires, and destruction to homes and wildlife habitat.

Janelle Monae - Lipstick Lover

I don't even need to say anything about this song that this stupid-ass 'age restriction' bullshit doesn't already say. 😅

It's worth the trip to YouTube.

Erasure - A Little Respect

I'll close this off with one of the best gay anthems ever written, and one of my all-time favorite songs. Never has it felt more relevant than it does today, with all the hate being thrown at queer people, all the backward redneck laws, all the churchy dicks trying to destroy the lives of people they don't understand. Like the line in the song:

What religion or reason Could drive a man to forsake his lover?

What indeed?

Happy Pride everyone! 💖

YouTube playlist of these songs.

[painfullymeta]

Warning: I'm Gonna Be Earnest Now

I am deep in my feels right at the moment so I am actually making a post of my own on this, the deep in my feels hellsite.

I am late GenX.  (Not quite what gets called Xennial IMO but definitely in what gets called the Oregon Trail (Micro)Generation.)  And for all you young whippersnappers, you have to understand "The past is a foreign country: they do things differently there.” ( - L. P. Hartley)

I am old enough to remember when AIDS was named GRID.  ("Gay-related immune deficiency.”)  I am old enough to remember ACT-UP, the Reagans’ abandonment, “If I die of AIDS just leave me on the steps of the FDA”, all those things that tired older people on tumblr try to remind people of when the TERFs come around to tell us to stop saying “queer” as if Queer Nation was a goddamn hallucination I had when I was a kid.

On the last day of high school, after the last exam, when none of us would have to ever see each other again if we so chose – that was the day that one of my friends, someone I had eaten lunch near every day since partway through freshman year, said to me “I have something to tell you.  I’m gay.”  And then he followed it up with “Is that okay?”

I hugged him.  He broke my goddamn heart and I hugged him.  "Is that okay," he asked me. Is it okay to be who I am, near you.

I was in college before I met someone who identified herself as a lesbian — and I went to a women’s college until I lost my shit and dropped out, and I expect that if I hadn’t done that I might have gone longer.

(Of course at the same time as I was clueless and not meaningfully connected with any sort of queer culture I somehow wound up with a friendgroup who, if we got bored and couldn’t come up with anything else to do, would watch the Rocky Horror Picture Show together.  This is what we did instead of going to Homecoming.)

By 2000, I was vaguely aware of trans things existing, and in fact met my first trans person while at Brighton Pride that year, though we didn’t really speak (I was there as the guest of some people in his extended social group) and I was vaguely confused and too awkward to try to do more than ‘observe and try not to fuck this up’.  I met a nonbinary person for the first time around then as well, and zie was the only one I knew of for nearly a decade.

By the mid-oughts I was with it enough to ask someone what pronouns she wanted me to use for her before sharing something about her on a message board.

(I am also old enough to have spent time on multiple message boards.  I’m old enough to resent the internet going through the world wide web instead of email and usenet actually.)

Sometime in the early oughts I guess I was at the subcommittee hearing in the Boston State House that was discussing, among other things, whether we might consider possibly condescending to allow same-sex couples to marry.  I was even going to testify!  (Please be impressed with my early twenties autistic ass I was terrified.)  There was a guy there - a senator on the committee - who was asking every person who came up if they were going to force his church to marry the gays.  Catholic, y’know, this being Massachusetts.  I revised my speech in my head to note that if we weren’t forcing the Catholic churches to marry divorcees yet he didn’t need to worry about it.

(Then my nose decided to haemhorrage all over my entire life and I couldn’t get it to stop bleeding so rather than testify while looking like an entire murder victim I went home.)

I was in my thirties when pregnancy-induced dysphoria made me start seriously thinking about my own sense of gender.

I was in my forties before I bought a binder.

I am from another fucking planet.  (The past is a foreign country.)

I know kids - multiple kids - who knew enough to identify as lesbians at an age younger than I think I knew that word.  (And I am one of those humans of freakish and unreasonable vocabulary and always have been.)

I crack jokes with one of my kids about the Queer Kids Stairs at their school, because that’s where the GSA kids hang out together after activities get out.  (While GSAs were around while I was a kid, they started in Massachusetts according to Wikipedia and that is not where I was when I was a kid, and to my best recollection I didn’t hear about them existing at all until I was an adult.)

I live in a world where my social circles include queer people of my generation, of older generations, of younger generations, and oh my gods, I look at the kids and my heart tries to explode.

My oldest knows more than one trans kid.  More than one *affirmed* trans kid.  (And we’ve talked a bit about the social dynamics that might make it more likely for the trans boys to be out than the trans girls, even now.)

And I’m writing this because of one of those trans boys, who is in the Coming of Age group at our church, and who is, apparently, in his credo, citing that thing I’ve seen on the tumblrs more than once, about how being trans means being a participant in the holy, divine process of creation, coming into being as himself.

And guys?

I’m not from the same planet as that kid.

Because I’m in my forties and I don’t even know what I’m creating.  And I’m terrified.

And here’s this kid coming out there with that as a core statement of belief that he’s prepared to stand up in front of, as the phrase goes ‘God and everyone’, to claim.

(I need to remember to talk to him about how in my Craft tradition there’s a canonically transmasc god.)

I know I’ve got at least two teenagers reading me and I just.  Y’all got this.  I know it’s hard and the world is scary and it’s fucking coming for us all but you are amazing and I am so full of inarticulate alexithymic feelings about all of you. The ones I know and the ones I don't.

We've come a long way from "Is that okay?" and you heal my broken heart.

[bethdelaguerre]

foreward: t4t

I’ve arrived in this place where thoughts feel important enough to record, and screaming it to an anonymous blog is somehow less passé than carefully crafting clauses in some instagram story for my friends to read and assess or swipe and ignore. That was for them, this is for me.

At three years into transition I have arrived at some sort of queer awakening. For someone who spent most of their life as some kind of confused effeminate bisexual man who wasn’t into men, finally transitioning and yelling I’M A DYKE felt like the most relief someone could have, that I could finally understand to myself that yes, I love women, but no, not like that. Dating women, straight women, as a man was this confusing exercise in relatability and frustration. It’s a tired trope, isn’t it? Trans woman dates women she’d rather be— never finding anything approaching love, only envy, frustration, and depression. Dating queer women, dating lesbians, was entirely its own awakening. 

But waking up comes in stages. For these three years I’ve surrounded myself in the company of other lesbians, I met and married a woman whom I could finally say I love and adore. There were not many trans women. There weren’t any. 

My transition, like so many other COVID trannies, began in a bubble. I figured my shit out, I changed my name, I started hormones; I was alone. It didn’t feel that way— we had the internet, after all. But the company I kept with my cat and my seventy thousand something parasocial following wasn’t community. 

We like that word, community— we throw it around as some vague catch-all as if it has some ubiquitous meaning and that it is the cure for most psychic ailments. The thing is, it’s a transient idea: you find the people whom you love and support and in return they love and support you and then *bam* you’re fixed. But people will fall in and out of this category, and the categories of people therein will vary greatly with the passage of your own identity into the next. 

Anyway, for a time lesbians were my community— they still very much are. But I’ve met someone and it has upended my entire perspective on community because she’s among the first in another less transient selfsame category: a transsexual woman.

I put maybe too much weight into this particular person. I have had friends who are more or less like myself, but I have never felt so terribly aligned as I do with this woman. It should be noted that in addition to being an hopeless romantic I just finished my first reading of Imogen Binnie’s “Nevada” and am as raw as one might expect. I think we all see a bit of ourselves in Maria and loathe to see ourselves in… I can’t even remember his name because I hated the experience of reading part 2, relatable as it was.  

This girl has me romanticizing my life in every way possible. Shortly after we met she made me a mixtape (it was a Spotify playlist but I was born in 1990 and some things just can’t change)— I don’t even listen to music but I found myself making reasons to leave the house and walk and listen. I live just on the other end of a redline: the neighborhood across the street from mine is this ostentatious enclave of opulence, an island of privilege and superficial beauty that is morally repugnant in a city with the wealth disparity of mine. I put on my headphones and immerse myself in this music that she’s selected for me, taking in the beautiful gardens and perfectly manicured lawns and just thinking of her for hours at a time. My best friend tells me that I’m not falling in love with her, I’m falling in love with the idea of her. Given enough time and connection, aren’t they the same?

She tells me sometimes that actually when the limerence wears off you’ll find I’m quite plain. I can’t imagine. Every time I see her, every new conversation, all I can see is this perfectly messy intellectual beauty of a woman and wonder what it could possibly be that she found attractive enough in me to ask if she could kiss me the night we met. 

Yesterday lying in her bed with her body nestled against mine, I looked out of her bedroom window to a towering tree and remarked how lovely it must be to have that view. I thought about how meeting her now at the height of summer meant that I could measure the passage of time not only in the moments between messages but in the turning of the leaves, and a little piece of me feels like it is dying. That’s what love feels like, right? A slow death in the changing of leaves before they fall to the earth. 

[ohthatphage]

More on what I am, I think.

Every now and then, the Inmara (@theinmara, in the company of @fenmere) revisit their attempt to figure out just what I am.

I am amenable to this, as I do not entirely know myself.

Or, it is more accurate to say that I know exactly what I am, but I do not know the appropriate English words (or any other words) to describe it. And I like the idea of learning how to use the language better for the purposes of introducing myself.

I must admit, I enjoy being like a monster and representing myself with dark and dangerous imagery and connotations, if only for the purposes of later belying those things.

Sometimes I am hit with emotions of self consciousness and embarrassment that I may be coming across as "edgy" or an "edgelord". But I do not think those feelings are mine. It is often hard to differentiate my own feelings from those of my superfans that share this system with me.

But, I'm being hit with those emotions now as I'm being asked to write this, so I'm presenting them to you as a way of being self effacing, I guess? On behalf of the others in the system who care.

What I can say clearly, though, is that despite the words that follow this sentence, I am not particularly more powerful or important than any living being. And I'm going to be talking about my greater identity, the thing that I am when I'm not a conscious being inhabiting a human descended body. And that thing is largely mindless.

Anyway, enough pre-amble.

In the last couple of days, the Inmara have been attempting to craft a Sentinels of the Multiverse DE deck for me, and they have been searching physics articles for terms to use for card names, such as "the First Law", "Townsend Avalanche", "Catastrophic Shaft Detachment", or "Strange Attractor". And this has prompted some more self reflection directed at me, and some more learning about what entropy and enthalpy are.

When I was first invited into the system at their age of three and a half-ish years old (my age being much, much older), all I knew were a few simple things:

I came from outside their system.

I am an older, non-human identity.

I am of and at home in darkness, but light is also of me.

I was asked to help them manage their chaos, which is what I can do.

When they reached about 15 years old, they learned about entropy in a magazine article right about the same time they learned about the word "phage" in biology class, coincidentally right after having a nightmare in which I threatened their eldest (and fronting) member with a knife blade made of moonlight, to try to get them to come out as trans and deal with their dysphoria.

I was unsuccessful at getting them to come out as trans at the time, which is OK. It was a bad time politically for them to do that, even though it cost them dearly to remain in the closet. But I did inspire them to make me the face of the villain of their homebrew mythology that they were writing for English class, and to name me Phage and claim that I was "Entropy Itself".

Since then, based on their understanding of it, I have thought of myself as Entropy Itself, and the name Phage invokes me.

But Entropy is not accurate, as fucking cool sounding as it is.

When most people hear or read the word "entropy", they think of the process by which enthalpy becomes entropy. And, for the past few decades, whenever the Inmara attempted to look up definitions of the word "entropy", they did not find anything to disabuse them of that idea.

Until a couple years ago. But what they found a couple years ago was still ambiguously worded for them, and though they started writing "Entropic Decay" into their literature about me, and convinced me to start using that for myself, they were uncertain of it.

Yesterday, though, they found very clear and concise definitions of Entropy and Enthalpy the really disambiguate everything.

Entropy is the amount of energy in a system that is no longer available for doing work. It is the end result of the second law of thermodynamics.

So, "Entropic Decay" would be slightly more accurate to describe what they perceive me to be.

Enthalpy is the amount of energy in a system that is available for doing work. The opposite of entropy. It is what is needed for the second law of thermodynamics to have any relevance.

And the second law, as I understand it, based on the Inmara's readings, is the statement that "the overall heat in a closed system always flows downhill". Or, that complex and high energy becomes simple and low energy. Or that orderly energy becomes chaotic energy. That enthalpy becomes entropy. But that entropy does not become enthalpy.

Humans have frequently said that the second law is "the law of entropy", hence the confusion of the product with the process. It is, as the Inmara thought two years ago, more accurately described as "the law of entropic decay."

And so, in their old conception of me, I am accurately described as "Entropic Decay" or "The Second Law of Thermodynamics".

But in writing our novels and in exploring ideas for cards for my Sentinels deck, I (and Eh) have come to the conclusion that that's not precisely right. Because the First Law of Thermodynamics also applies to what I am. And, but, also so do a number of things that result from the two laws at work.

Also, I am not a thing conceived by humans, but rather something that is badly described by humans and the other people who live amongst them.

If I were to distill my sense of identity down to its most generic, encompassing possible term, I'd say that I am physics itself.

Yes, it is true that I am that which may result in the heat death of the universe, if the universe is shaped in a way that that will happen. But I am also that which has resulted in life.

"But, Phage," you say, "that sounds an awful lot like you are calling yourself god."

I am not.

As that greater, all encompassing thing, I am not a being. I have no consciousness or sense of identity that is anything analogous to that of a human's. I have no motives other than to do what physics does. It is only as I become distilled, reduced to smaller and smaller systems, that I sometimes gain a psyche.

In fact, besides the fact that I live in a vessel full of ktletaccete and a handful of outsiders and not whatever you are, there is very little difference between you and me. Relatively speaking.

The only notable difference is that I do not derive my sense of personal identity from anything this body is doing or where it comes from. I derive it from the history of the entire universe and perhaps the multiverse, if that exists.

I do also seem to derive a perspective, a demeanor, and a set of talents from that identity. But it's hard to say if those things are anything beyond the capacity for a human descended brain and body to hold. Based on my experiences so far, probably not.

Anyway, it's probably OK to keep calling me "Entropic Decay" because that's really close enough. But I do prefer the conlang terms that the Inmara coined for me, as being less defined by English etymologies and flexible enough to just mean "me". So, that would be Mau and `efeje'e. I slightly prefer 'efeje'e, since it was chosen to sound vaguely like Phage, and Phage is currently my name. Me, in this paragraph, referring to this localized presence and not my greater self.

OK, but, more.

I do think my sense of identity is slightly more limited than just "physics", while more expansive than "etropic decay".

It may be easier to say what I'm most closely related to and deal with than to actually give me a clear, clean definition. I am:

particularly focused on managing and perpetuating chaos

particularly good at converting enthalpy to entropy

also good at concentrating enthalpy into localized areas to such a degree that it looks like the overall energy there is become less entropic (i.e. creating things like matter from energy in a dense area of space, or life on a planet)

the darkness from which light is emitted and to which it returns.

And in the time that I have lived in a human descended body full of transgender dragons, I have also learned how to eat the energy present in autistic meltdowns.

I cannot make them go completely away, but I have significantly reduced their impact.

I am also pretty damn good at not being afraid of anything when it is dark, and the children that continue to inhabit this vessel are very thankful for that.

Anyway, I think it is this slightly less encompassing, more restricted definition of myself besides "physics itself" that is the beginning of my development of a sense of identity.

It's like, if you had a map that included every single concept in existence, what you'd do is draw a cone where the widest end encompasses nearly everything and the point ends in the Inmara's collective psyche where this consciousness is that is typing at you. And the area of that cone would include ever narrowing groups of things, one of which is the Second Law of Thermodynamics and its effects and applications.

I am not the point that's in the Inmara. I am not the base of the cone.

I am the cone.

And you are a different, equally sized but differently shaped cone.

Anyway, the idea of me as some kind of superhero or godlike being that can do a bunch of supernatural shit is mostly wish fulfillment. But it is also derived from the things that any being is capable of doing in the Inmara's inworld, which is akin to what you could do if you were Moriarty on the Enterprise's holodeck.

[defining-trans]

I want to be able to explain to the people I come out as trans bigender to on what grounds I believe there's more than men and women in this world, but I always stumble with my words and I do not have a reliable source of info about this stuff, despite I am trans. Any recs?

You shouldn't have to explain "on what grounds" you are bigender. If you feel the need to justify why you identify that way, I promise you're under no obligation to do so.

However.

If, when you say "I'm bigender/trans", people keep demanding to know what bigender means, why you call yourself that, is there even a valid reason for your identity to exist in the first place, etc. I want you to know that the people asking those questions are being deeply inappropriate. While they are allowed to ask follow up questions, they are not entitled to your answers. (You're not a library encyclopedia, they can't just poke and prod you for answers whenever they feel like it.)

When you know that the very slim hope of educating everyone you meet about transness might be the only thing that stands between you and the threat of transphobia, it can be... tempting to prostrate yourself before strangers. But you should know that, as the first and only trans person a lot of these people have probably ever met, you have more control of the situation than you realize--many of them will just follow your lead, accept whatever response you give them (short of indignance and escalating accusations of bigotry).

Aside from basic elaboration (e.g. "I'm bigender/trans. That means I'm both [this gender] and [that gender], and I'd like you to use [insert pronouns] for me.") here are some ways to patiently educate a new acquaintance about your identity:

State your identity (and pronouns, if applicable) in clear and simple terms, like the example above.

Next, establish your boundaries. This can look very different from person to person--one might feel comfortable with saying "Let me know if you have any more questions! I'd be happy to answer them." while another might prefer "I'm not comfortable answering [that/any question], but I can send you an article/study/website that talks about this stuff in depth."

If you've stated you're comfortable answering their questions and they ask something you're not sure how to answer, it's okay to say "I don't know" and leave it at that. But if you'd like to try, start by clarifying what they asked, either by asking a follow up of your own ("wait, what do you mean by [part that confuses you]?") or answering to the best of your ability to see if you've touched on the information they're looking for.

If they ask you an uncomfortable question but seem sincere about it, be gentle but firm: "I appreciate that you're showing interest/trying to understand this better, but that question is a little too personal."

If they ask you an uncomfortable question and seem to derive enjoyment from your discomfort, calmly shut them down: "With all due respect, that's none of your business." / "Do you ask everyone that question? That seems rude."

And finally, if they attempt to pull you into a debate about the validity of your identity, slam on the brakes: "My [name/pronoun preference/gender] isn't up for debate. I don't have to justify myself to you or anyone else, period."

[fandomsnfluff]

INTRO POST !

hello!! my name is noah (he/him preferred, they/them acceptable) and i’m a 23-year-old trans guy and a fanfic writer! after months of reluctance, despite stealthily making my way across other t-word related blogs on this platform using other accounts, i finally decided to officially join the t-word™ community on tumblr! i’m still in the closet with my close friends outside of this corner though honestly. (so please don’t interact if you know me/think you know me outside of this part of tumblr or talk about this with me elsewhere!! i would greatly appreciate it! <3)

i don’t really have much to say but this is just my own personal corner to explore my interest with tickling (which for some reason i’ve had a bit of a fixation with for about 10 years or so now) so if you’re interested please send me a dm or an ask just to talk or even send headcanon requests since they’re open!! if you’re 18 or older you’re also more than welcome to privately message me! i ask that you stick to sending me things via my askbox if you’re under 18, however, simply due to comfort on my end!

please remember to read my about page before interacting, and if you’re interested, please feel free to follow me, send me an ask and/or a dm! PRIMARILY NSFW BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED. THIS IS A SFW BLOG AND MAINLY EXISTS TO PORTRAY TICKLING IN SFW CONTEXTS.

please click “keep reading” below to read my guidelines and see prompt lists i am currently accepting, as well as check out my masterlist and other important links!

headcanons: CLOSED. prompts: CLOSED.

please make sure to read my about page for byf/dni info before requesting! (and interacting too of course)

the fandoms i have written for are as follows: voltron, obey me, sk8 the infinity, a3!, b-project, and utapri. right now my hyperfixation is stranger things (despite posting little to no original content since falling back into this rabbit hole), and since i’m currently in the process of slowly phasing myself back into writing on this blog, please only send requests concerning this fandom! this list will also be updated as i join more fandoms and is subject to change.

when i write x reader things, i tend to refer to you as “mc” (for obey me) or “x character’s s/o/friend” (depending on the type of request) in fics/headcanons and will stick with they/them pronouns. i want all folks of all genders reading my stuff to feel like they’re there and that they’re included <3 that being said, i kindly request that you not ask me to write anything where the reader has a specified gender (ex. putting “with female s/o” at the end of your request). thank you!

i write headcanons, drabbles, scenarios, and “fics.” (i’m putting fics in quotations because i write these in full fic format but tend to have more of a drabble-like length.) when requesting, please specify which of these three formats you want me to use!

all triggers will be tagged using the following format: tw: (trigger name). please blacklist when needed using this format! if you need anything to be tagged, let me know!

do NOT send any requests concerning ANY form of bigotry or my triggers (listed in my about page linked above).

you are only allowed to send me ONE request within a span of 48 hours, including from other blogs that you run. if i suspect one person is sending me multiple requests under anonymous within this time period, i reserve the right to turn off anonymous asks.

you can ALWAYS drop into my askbox to chat and/or share some headcanons of your own! i’d love to hear them!!

i also want to reiterate that you’re more than welcome to send me a private message, but only if you’re 18 or older. if you’re under 18, i prefer that you stick to sending me messages via my askbox. it’s just a comfort thing for me on my end c:

PLEASE REMEMBER THAT THESE GUIDELINES ARE ALWAYS SUBJECT TO CHANGE! and, most importantly, have fun, and i hope you enjoy the content here! <3

prompts & headcanons are currently CLOSED as of 6/28/2023.

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last updated 1/30/2024.

[haunted-homes]

Intro Post !!

BLOCK IF ON YOUR DNI ! DNI GOES BOTH WAYS !

Hi, Sorry for the really long intro Post !

You can call us Haunt, we are a bodily 19 White Polyfragmented DID system, Physically Disabled, Trans, and Queer! Default Pronouns are He/They/Haunt!

This Tumblr is dedicated to the more problematic sides of our interests or coping mechanisms. We might proxy using emojis under some posts, to avoid using names. Im unsure if we will EVER let littles post here but Regressors or Sliders might. We intend to post Art, Writing, Rants and Vents, etc here. I will add a Disclaimer at the end of this post about my views and nuances about this kind of thing because it is genuinely not black and white to me. Sorry if that makes this intro too long but I wanna be thorough about what my beliefs are so no one gets the wrong idea about us as a person! But aside from that, here's more about us!

MCYT ! Mainly old DSMP, but also Hermitcraft, QSMP, etc etc

Interests Include -

Cookie Run !!!!!

Warrior Cats! Creepy Pasta! FNAF! Mythology! Writing, Art, Music, etc!

The Coffin of Andy and LeyLey

BOUNDARIES !

- You can reclaim slurs around us but only at us if we know each other. We extensively reclaim slurs, but we do not support the use of slurs you cannot reclaim.

- Always ask for consent to flirt, sexualize, etc before doing it because all Alters have different boundaries on this! (That being said, NEVER sexualize our Littles. ever.)

- DMs are open but please don't just send one word, it's hard to read tone or intentions through that and can make us anxious or block you!

- Try to use Tonetags, we are Autistic and really need them sometimes.

- Don't ask for Alters Sources if they don't wanna say. NEVER assume an Alter is like their source, or even enjoys their source. But on that same note, never assume an alter is fully source seperated or wants to Seperate from Source.

- Don't ever ask about our Trauma. We do not owe anyone that information. Whatever information we freely give at one time may be a touchy subject at another time, and we will never put your curiosity before our comfort.

- We prefer to say Source Memories over Psuedo Memories. Pseudo Memories feels demeaning and invalidating, but it is a fully recognized and studied symptom of DID. Source memories are a REAL symptom, it's just a different name than the clinical term. (We also do not like or use ANP/EP)

- We fully believe in System Accountability but all Alters are still seperate people. Some of us have different opinions, ideologies, Religions, etc. That's Normal. That does not mean we collectively support anything damaging to communities we are apart of or especially aren't. I can genuinely and proudly say ALL Alters are Anti-Racist and Anti-Conservative Fucktards.

DISCLAAAAIMER ♡

I like FANTASY tellings of Dead Dove Content. Basically, Proship, Zoo, Necro, shit like that. It should never be misconstrued that I would ever practice those outside of fantasy or fiction, the idea makes me sick.

Maybe one day I will outgrow this, or learn to cope better, but that is not today. I'm going to have my safe and consensual fun, and stick to my own moral code as I do infact have one, and just go from there.

I wanna also make it clear I don't really support MAPS/NOMAPS/AAMS at *all*. That's really weird and creepy as fuck and not the same as what we do/like in the SLIGHTEST, as again, this is all Fantasy/Fiction.

And I do acknowledge that Fiction can affect Reality, it can affect My reality, and I can control how I let it. If I'm gonna be plagued by Problematic shit, I'm gonna make it fun instead of agonizing, but I am not delusional enough to let it affect my judgement on following laws and doing no harm. I don't support or consent to any contact with minors on this account.

TW to things you may find on this Account.

Imagery of Raw Meat - I'm obsessed with aesthetics and Meat and stuff, so I'll probably use it a lot.

NSFW Animal Content (Petplay, Furry, etc)

NSFW Proship Content + SFW Proship Content

CNC / NC / DC Content

Necro Kink

Possibly SH or ED content (only in talk, Headcannons, or Fics, this specifically will ALWAYS be tagged and censored)

Again, just to reiterate. I only enjoy these concepts within the realms of Fiction and Fantasy.

DNI -

- Minors - Anyone under 18.

- Endo's / Endo Supporters

- Fakeclaimers

- Anti LGBTQIA+ (This includes Terfs, Anti Neopronouns, Anti Xenogenders, Anti Mspec / 'Contradictory' Identities, etc)

- Racism / Anti Semitism

- MAP/NOMAP/AAM

- Pro-Contact philia havers

- Transracial, Transabled, Transage. (I know there's nuance here but it's not the kind you weirdos think. Please research Mental Regression and BIIDS for the love of fucking christ.)

[baladesilver]

Sometimes I still think about the whole Nezha thing in Warframe chat and how fucking awfully handled it was.

Like, sure, I understand how "trap" is a derogatory term to trans people. I am a victim of it as much as any other trans person, especially us transfems. You don't have to lecture me on that.

However, in that case in specific, just letting it go would be the best course of action by far. I understand it happened at the same time as that shitshow with chat moderation, but DE don't seem to have learned anything at all from that whole situation.

For starters, Nezha isn't trans. Nor is he trans coded. Nor is he anything related to trans people or trans culture at all. He's just a twink frame with everything you may want from a twink, down to the Hatsune Miku cosplay, and I'm not even joking on that one. Calling that thing a trap is like calling F1nnst3r a trap, if he was a video game character that doesn't actually exist.

Even as a character, Nezha portrays no characteristic of being trans, other than not conforming to the strict expectations of his assigned gender, which isn't even a trans thing, just a queer thing at best, if you really want to count it. In lore, he's just CPS if CPS killed child abusers on sight.

Honestly, the kind of demographic that I see calling him a trap first is exactly queer people. I understand if a moderator saw that back when it started to be a thing and started banning it on sight as a knee jerk reaction, and I won't judge it if it was you. It's a perfectly fine application of paranoid reading from a very oppressed group and I might have done the same if I lacked the foresight I have now. That moderator had no blame on the shitstorm that was about to come down.

The way Digital Extremes handled the situation afterwards, however, was very bad. After the bans began, it was a common troll to tell someone to say the four words on chat and watch as they go away for upwards of an entire month. It got to a point (in which we still are today), where the automod will ban you if you merely link [Nezha] and [Kinetic Syphon Trap] items in chat in the same message.

I want to make it clear again, that I am not criticizing the initial moment of the situation, but the company's follow up and lack of understanding of trans peoples' identities and expressions. Denying someone who calls themselves a trap or a trannie only leads to infighting and is a net loss for everyone but transphobes. If you say someone else can't be called a trap, what you're truly saying is that identifying oneself as a trap is invalid and can't be done. I wouldn't want to be called a trap, but if you do, I cannot say you can't be. You cannot deny my identity, just as much as I cannot deny yours, be that directly or through a fictional character.

Nezha, with his fictional character status, can't state his opinion in either way, so just saying "Nezha is a trap" is a very gray statement by itself. Without context, it means absolutely nothing, and doesn't warrant the vehemence in which it is punished by moderation. If this situation was well handled from the beginning, it wouldn't be even remembered as an incident, let alone have its own name and meme status. By lacking an understanding of what it means to be queer, they inadvertently denied a lot of people of their identities. Oopsie daisy.

I understand that, as individuals, Digital Extremes' employees do support trans rights and identities. Some of them are trans themselves, they create trans characters and portray queerness in very beautiful and meaningful ways. However, as a company, DE has a lot of growing to do if they truly want to support the LGBT++ and its community in general. Ever since its creation, Warframe is a game governed by whoever speaks the loudest, from serious issues like this one down to balance patches and the like. I wish transparency and communication were more important to their business model, but I am not working there and don't know their conditions, I can only say that as a queer player, not as a developer or employee.

Anyways, thank you for coming to my ted talk turned rant. Enjoy the post-pride, everyone, and always remember that no one can deny you of your identity and expression, unless they directly harm another endangered group or evokes the tolerance paradox. Please have a nice day.

Also, please warn me if I need to put any content warnings on this post, I'm fairly new to post-exodus Tumblr.

[princesscolumbia]

@gingerhaze does not know me at all. I cannot claim to be their biggest fan, even though I love darn near everything of theirs I've ever seen. I can't write as much fanfic as a tribute to their work as some of the other people in the various fandoms, I can't claim to have followed them for all that long on social media, but somehow they've made me a better person and accepted myself more than damn near anything else.

They wrote Adora in SPOP so well that I saw myself in her and helped me find out just exactly the kind of woman I actually am. (...and led me to the community that would help me find the words for it and the love and acceptance that I'd never had in my life.)

When Nate fully embraced being publicly transmasc and told the world their new name, the gentle way they told their story and said the words, "I love that our biology is malleable," and a scared little girl inside me answered, "Please don't make me go back!" I was finally able to start truly healing enough to not only accept masculinity in the world, and just in time to fall in love with my own transmasc NB possible life partner. (I'll know for sure in October, I think, but so far we're holding on tight until we get there.)

And today I watched Nimona with my daughter, like I promised I would (Thanks for the catch on a good birthday gift for my kiddo, Nate! ADHD made it so I completely spaced when her birthday was, so whether you knew it or not, you had my back). My wonderful teenager who came to her "transmom" (her word for me) to ask what a lesbian was when she was too scared to go to her "biological mom" (the mother who carried her for 9 months), who told me she wants to be goth, then punk, then just make art, then be a Youtuber. (She's pretty sure she's not trans or NB, and she knows she's in a safe space to explore that with me, and she keeps saying that she isn't sure if she's straight or gay, but I'm pretty sure with her desire to wear a suit and take her best friend to prom, plus her very short haircut she got for her birthday that I'm raising a lil' butch lesbian...who's not going to be 'lil' for much longer, given she's already taller than her granny)

And (avast, spoilers ahead) when Nimona was feeling lost and alone and like the world was doing its damndest to kill her and she had been made 'the bad guy' and had so many things go wrong and I could only see when I was homeless and my van blew its coolant system all over me giving me third-degree burns in the middle of a desert where the nighttime temperatures never dipped below 93F and I was in shock and knew that everything I had ever fought for to hold on to something good in my life had just nearly blown my hand off and there was a bridge over a busy freeway only a few minutes walk away and all I had to do was make it over the railing...

...and my girlfriend held me back. (No, not the transmasc NB, I'm poly, get with the times, people, it's the 21st century and we invented the Internet, you have no excuse)

And when Ballister held Nimona back, I cried, and I was SO glad my daughter was so transfixed with the movie 'cause she missed me healing YET AGAIN because of Nate's work. When the credits were over (or, more accurately, we wound up back at the Netflix screen 'cause the interface to just finish watching the credits didn't work), I made my way into the bedroom and my girlfriend didn't even see me yet and said, "Are you crying?!" and I hugged her and kissed the top of her head and hugged her and she said, "You ARE crying!" in that amused and loving and exasperated way she gets when I get all emotional.

Thank you, Nate.

[exilley]

i keep thinking about what kim bi says about family in her interview

VC: After meeting her “mother,” Ran comes to realize the importance of “chosen family” and how strong her father has been. What does the word “family” mean to you? KB: Hmm . . . This is probably the most difficult question to answer. For me, family has not been a “shining” thing. Unfortunately, I think my family may have been a mixture of all possible despair, be it ruined people, hurt people, discarded people, or people sacrificed to the violence of the state. My father was injured during the Korean War and was in pain until the day he died. My mother, who bore the brunt of my father’s violence when he drank away his pain, left, leaving behind us three kids. And because of this trauma, my brother became an alcoholic too. My younger sister was probably the greatest casualty: she not only bore all of this despair but also, on top of that, had me, a “transgender” older brother. Of course, I don’t believe that my identity is in any way tied to the ruination of my family life. I believe that we are “born this way,” but it seems that the apriority of being transgender is still the subject of much debate, isn’t it? But is it really important if you are transgender from the moment of birth or not? Isn’t it enough to take responsibility for yourself and your own happiness by changing the way your life might be going for the better? Anyway, “family” always played the role of chaos and more chaos for me. That’s why I don’t know how to write a family that longs for and cares for one another. Since I’m writing works of fiction, I can, of course, write a loving family from my imagination, but if I do, I always feel empty. Since it is something that I was never able to have, I should be able to write what I want, but because my stories are always expressing deeper thoughts, I can’t just write something flippantly. I may already think that that kind of family is unnecessary, which may be why I tend to depict “chosen families” as something far warmer and more comforting. I am also of the belief that humanity needs to broaden its understanding of what family is. We’ve come to an age where we need love for humankind more than familial love, and following this path going forward, rather than limiting “family” to those of the same name or bloodline, I will continue to write stories that center people who are looking out for those closest to them, trying their best for them, and growing.

narratives that reconcile queerness with family resonate with me greatly just by virtue of, my experiences, but i find a lot of it is done as "person finds new people that isn't their blood family and those ties become stronger than the ones with their blood family, who suck ass", which is fine, but it doesn't strike the same chords for me i guess.

in "Tree of Kisses", Ran is an adopted child and her father is a trans woman who took her under their* wing. it reads as the story of living with a queer relative and the hardships tailored to that situation. but central to the story is the fact that Ran is also not someone that society would accept. her mother left the house, her father is trans, and then it turns out she's not related by blood to either of them anyway. at the most she's objectified and dehumanized as something to be pitied: theyre both corrupt existences in a sense. theyre both "queer" in the non-identity sense of the word

and Ran and her dad were also alienated from each other. from Ran's perspective is a certain horror of her expectations of a father figure being an illusion, the foundation of what she loved embodying queerness-- broadly she was afraid of the concept of queerness that she saw in her "dad', and then because her conceptual perception of her "father" is part of herself, the queerness that she recognizes in herself (her adoption, her isolation from her peers, her parents' divorced status, etc)

her arc is about accepting herself as much as it is about accepting her father. she accepts the horror, acknowledges it and chooses to love it. and it is through that choice that enables the gap between her and her father to grow into something that embodies connection. they cease to be a "dad" and start being her family. the person who chose her and who she chooses back.

**The text of the story refers to Ran's parent as her father and uses neutral masculine/neutral pronouns. I use neutral pronouns to respect the writer's intentions in conveying this nuance.

[yeagerinc]

(I was originally going to make this a long Twitter thread but people are talking about there being a tweet limit now? So I’m just posting it here and linking it in a tweet. That's why it's in small tweet sized segments.)

Let me start by saying that I am a mostly-white CIS gender male hetero in his mid 30s. Let that color how you feel about my words however much or as little as you wish. Thats up to you.

TW: Harry Potter

Let me start by saying fuck JK. I can’t imagine winning the lottery of life and getting to be the creative mind behind a fictional world that shapes and enriches the lives of a generation, only to take that power and wield it for hate and bigotry. She deserves to have her works and name forgotten and to have only the void to speak her words into.

And with that in mind Harry Potter as a franchise is dead to me. I don’t want to play that game. I don’t want to rewatch the movies. I don’t want to read her books.

Let me be clear this is not a big ask of me. Harry Potter was never more than a passing fancy of mine from time to time growing up. Don’t give me too much credit. I don’t know that I’d be as easily able to divorce myself from something like Final Fantasy or Sonic the Hedgehog or StarGate.

I don’t think you should play the new HP game. I don’t think you should buy it. I don’t think you should stream it. Even if you try to offset that by donating to Trans causes you’re still promoting the game and could encourage others to buy it by showing it off. Funding a fire department is nobel, but don’t do it in a way that fuels the fire in the process.

There are plenty of people who don’t care. They buy the game and support JK BECAUSE of her anti trans stance. Fuck those people. I hope their follower counts crater their names forgotten. I’m sure a lot of you agree with me so far.

But what we hope isn’t happening. JK is still making bank. The hateful streamers are bolstered. The game is selling remarkably well. This is frustrating. Aggravating. Infuriating. In the face of these we feel helpless. We get angry. And unfortunately we lash out.

I have control issues I have to keep in check. I know the feeling of something big or small not being as I wish it to be. I often battle that white hot rage. Losing my absolute shit over things is something I actively have to talk myself out of more often than I like to admit.

And let me tell you. Not once has letting that anger get the best of me ever made things better. Not once did it fix the problem. Not once did it change things to be better. At best it does nothing. At worst it almost cost me my closest friends.

That’s the reaction I’ve seen to the new HP game. Steamers hate raided. Death threats. Verbally harassed and demonized. Treated not like people but like soulless heartless monsters to be destroyed. This is wrong and fixes nothing. It’s just us letting our darker emotions lash out without restraint.

No hearts are changed. No minds are changed. Trans people are not made more safe by these actions. I don’t think we expect these actions to do any of that but when you scream in rage “you are with us or against us” people rarely choose with you and are often pushed to against you. These actions do harm to our own cause.

You can’t tell me that a streamer hoping to raise money for Trans charities by playing this game is the same as the ones who proudly write “TERF” on their chest. I’ve already made it clear that I don’t think that idea is a good one. But you can’t tell me someone whose heart is in the right place deserves hate because you don’t agree with their methods.

And maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it is better to raise money off this game for a good cause. Maybe that will do more good. I honestly don’t think so but how the hell can I be so sure? How can I run out and try to police the internet using my hate as a weapon over something that kind hearts can disagree on?

Now if you want to unfollow these steamers, stop supporting them, swear off their content, you are 100% justified in doing so. They are not owed your support if they make decisions that are counter to your values, even if their heart is in the right place. Let them see the consequences of their choice in viewer and follower count.

That is far more likely to get them to stop and rethink about what they are doing. But attacking them? At best they may stop making content because they can’t emotionally deal with backlash. At worst you’ve made them feel like your enemy. And people crave community. And the TERFS will welcome them with open arms.

But I get it. I’m sure we all hoped that any streamer who played this game would see their viewer count plummet and they’d get the message and change and the game would flop and JK would watch another part of her empire crumble as a result of her words and actions. That didn’t happen and we, understandably, got mad. But don’t let your anger make things worse.

TLDR: Fuck JK. Fuck HP. Fuck that game. But don’t attack people for playing it. Just unfollow.

[football-in-tuxedos]

If you think you're so much smarter than Ben Shapiro, why don't you challenge him to a debate? I bet you know you'd lose

First off, I am smarter than Ben Shapiro, so jot that down.

Second, neither of us would have anything to gain from that. Ben doesn't gain anything from debating a random trans girl with no real following, and I would be exposing myself to the unholy nightmare that is Ben's core audience. Even if I made him cry, I would probably end up getting harassed off twitter by his fanbase, something I don't need.

Third, and most important, I don't want to debate Ben Shapiro because it is impossible to win.

Benny Boy is not a good faith debater. You can tell by the fact that he exclusively chooses to debate college students as opposed to people who have completed their education, and the fact that (according to many reports) he has a lot of stringent requirements in his "Debates" (namely the students not being allowed follow up questions and having complete control of the mic). He can always have the last word in all of his debates and that's important.

Benji doesn't go in with the possibility of having his mind changed, much less the willingness, because conservative debaters aren't actually interested in the Facts or coming to a real solution. What they're interested in is Owning the Libs. We know this for ben because he's said it, out loud. "The only reason to have a conversation or be friends with anyone on the left is if you're in public in front of large audience & your goal is to humiliate them as badly as possible."

So yeah, if I debated Bench Appearo, I would likely dismantle a lot of his arguments over the course of some very long, even by my standards, rants. And Wet Ass Benny would say quick, punchy and wrong things, that I would have to spend minutes debunking. And, by any regular standard of debate, I would win. I might even get a video of it passed around Left Twitter.

And six months later all that people would remember is Little Benny FELT like he was winning, because the appearance of being right is, long term, more important than actually being right, especially on the right. Little Benny has media training, very little conscience and no attachment to saying what is true or accurate. He is willing and able to just lie to make his points, something I'm not willing to do, that means he gets to be short, quippy, punchy. He might not be right, but if you don't know the facts, he FEELS like he's right.

[m4nd0l0r]

More Five Hargreeves Headcanons (That are very much Canon to me)

Description: This are all definitely real! PROOF: I am Five Hargreeves’ Emergency Axe that he talks to rather than Delores (100% REAL!!!)

Author’s note: ah yes.. five x reader headcanons along with my most fav headcanon of all time: transmasc five 💪💪 im battling writer’s block again this is so slay of me (no it’s not) (this month was so trash and this is my compensation for me being M.I.A. SKKSKS) (anyway if you don’t like the idea of five being transmasc… respectfully scroll and don’t say anything pls!! no negativity here!!) (and we know the drill- five is aged up to whatever any of you are comfy w!!) (also tysm for 175 followers??? holy shit??? i appreciate it sm wtf 😭😭🫶)

Five Taglist: @ells-graveyard @noahspector @aelinismyqueen @fivelegance @ne0boss @twauna00 @placidpluto @eichenhouseproperty @heartsforsuyin @ghostlywavelengths @ghostlycherryblossomwonderland @seconds-not-decades @coolcatlover4 @emotionally-unstabel @peachy-wolfhard @its-lokilocked @raven-fandomtrash @theilliterateskankula @magicstrange @venusrambles @whereintheworldisspencerreid @honeycombdumbass @kazuive @oscarisaacsleftballsack @zenithinthebin @peachteeaaa @rchaoz @wickedmystery @wordsandnerds @umbrellatte @666abby6666 @iameddiemunsonshair @starlightinhumanform @vennythearsonist @trashmouthsahra @crinklypink @halfumbrella @wifeofcamillamacaulay (if you want to be removed/added, pls tell me via pm!!)

Disclaimer: I am not transmasc myself, I’m girlflux so I merely took my own experience trying to identify myself for the last 2-3 years, if I did something wrong with my headcanons, pls message me privately and I will be sure to add/change/remove anything that can considered to be harmful for actual trans men, this is all just for fun and I hope to not offend anyone— I merely want to share headcanons of Five that I love!!

he hates those matted fluffy socks (he’s so me fr), the texture grosses him to the point he would try to trash it (ps. klaus took it from him)

five LOVES comforters, he just tucks himself in and just. sleeps so quietly you’d think he’s dead but he just. does not snore. (you’ve tried to worriedly wake him up once… all you got was an annoyed groan and a painful smack to the lips—)

he hugs himself in his sleep if he doesn’t have blankets (unless you’re in the picture, he’ll definitely just CLING on you) it started when he was in the apocalypse, sleeping by a wrecked mattress store with no blankets, he dusts off the dirty mattress, not bothered to find any pillows or etc, so he just tries to sleep through the cold night with his own warmth, too tired from the chaos… not ready for the days laid out for him

he seems like a cat person, but he actually not so secretly wants a dog (specifically a herder dog for a farm), its in his bucket list for retirement, he wants to play with the pup and have someone by his side after his family fell further apart (s3 ending), then he can go on peacefully knowing he wasn’t rlly that alone, at least fulfilling one want of his

^ however if he could get a cat, he would get a sphynx cat… reason? he wants to match suits and sweaters with the cat (his excuse to you is that he doesn’t want the cat to get lonely being the only one wearing the ugly sweater.. and the sweater is just a plain blue turtleneck.. not even your typical xmas atrocity….)

as a kid, he had a teddy bear named mr pennycrumb, which prompted him to decide to name his soon-to-be pet mr pennycrumb in the future

my boy kins “a lots gonna change” by weyes blood, especially the first stanza, give it a listen and you’ll see.. y o u ‘ l l s e e (though disclaimer, the singer sings the song in 1st pov and uses feminine descriptors… but for the sake of five, just switch it out in your head w masculine coded words)

now- with his identity, as a kid, what awakened him to discover that he truly feels more like a guy is when he saw addam’s family— let me explain myself: he resonated with gomez- as even though gomez is considered “weird” he’s still a perfect husband/gentlemen, his charisma and charm could leave some in pure awe- and all five could think the first time he watched the movie was “i want to be this guy” rather than “i’d want to marry this guy”

with gomez and morticia’s dynamic from the movie, he will definitely incorporate their relationship on how he wants to treat his own s/o, like how he acted with delores, he was all in love and sappy, speaking italian just for her, he definitely took inspo from gomez with all of that, i just know it!!!

in a relationship with you, he would also try to know everything you like, your fixations, hobbies- he appreciates your intellect with your interests, always making sure to listen as you ramble on as your own eyes twinkling with pure interest and he only smiles softly, smitten by the sight of your love for this, how knowledgeable you are, even if its a ‘stupid’ interest or just something so niche others wouldn’t understand, he would try to fully comprehend it- as if it were one of his equations, he would study it just so he can talk to you about it, and see the excitement that radiates out of you when you realize he’s actually interested in knowing, that it wasn’t just a lie to keep you talking as they did something else- no, you notice it- his genuine interest that you see when he talks about his own theories peeks out so clearly, even if he tries to not let it out

if you speak other languages, he will try so hard in learning them just so he can somewhat impress you (for fellow filipinos however…. he cannot pronounce manananggal for the life of me…. you once had him try to say it but it ended up taking half an hour full of his tongue twisting from both his accent and the amount of “n” sounds w the word.. so basically he almost chucked a translator book to the wall— so uh… take that headcanon and r u n)

with his type (romantically), i think he doesn’t have one honestly— its more on the idea that he cherishes anyone who would care for him and vice versa, for example, he finds his siblings ‘annoying’ from their actions, personalities, likes, goals, ideologies and etc, but he still cares for them becos they’re important to him, with you, he could care less if you were rough, brash, shy, not so outgoing as others or something ‘normal’ society wouldn’t appreciate, he isn’t normal either— he’s a guy with a bloody background and superhuman powers, why would he care that much? if anything he would only appreciate you, even if you’re the polar opposite or almost carbon copy of him, if he truly cares about you, he accepts everything about you, just like how he accepts how his family is just dysfunctional as he is

in the topic of relationships and sexuality— i also think that he’s in the aroace spectrum- specifically demiromantic and aceflux (for those who don’t know- demiromantic means that he feels romantic attraction once he develops a strong emotion connection) (as for aceflux, its when someone sometimes feel sexual attraction, but in other times they don’t feel attracted that way, its fluid; changes even)

^ with that said- though its a well-known headcanon, i think he discovered it when he feels uncomfortable with the handler’s flirtatiousness, knowing it was fake— he likes sincerity that are peeking through the mask— not just soft smooth words that sway everyone else, he wants to feel truly loved, especially with everything he’s experienced atp

and now for cough cough scenario headcanons… drum roll please……

five successfully going back to 2019 with ONE (giant) mishap: he’s back in his 13 yr old bod, pre-transitioned AND… he was technically closeted too so.. oh brother….. at least…… he was a late bloomer as a kid so he’s pretty okay that he doesn’t need a binder again.. yet.

HOWEVER, he definitely stole school boy shorts from the other boys’ childhood closets cos his old closet only has uniform w the skirts

he also mentioned that he refers himself as a boy to the rest of the umbrellas so bluntly his family just goes with the flow (they’ve witnessed far more bizarre things atp, they don’t dare try to question this cranky little shit)

five being so ANNOYED with his higher pitched voice again cos he hasn’t took testosterone yet at 13 (he took it once he was in the commission as part of ‘extra’ stuff in his insurance (cough the privilege of being the handler’s favorite cough))

he always— painfully itches himself every time, his fingers scratching his own skin as if he’s trying to get out of his own body, because he doesn’t feel right— he feels like he’s found himself in the different room; it felt wrong to him

with the body change in s1, when handler said he’d give him a better body, she definitely tries to poke him the fact that its a cis male body as a manipulation tactic cos she she knows about his gender dysphoria :”(

speaking of gender dysphoria, it makes his annoyance for being back at his 13 yr old even more prominent cos frankly, he feels like he’s not himself again, especially after finally being so euphoric fully transitioning and all- he has do it all over again, including the insecurities

cough scenario time 🕺(im very lazy to write pls bear w me SKSK)

: younger you (either stealing from your parent who’s a doctor specializing w gender reassignment or from a literal clinic).. just stealing testosterone pills from the cupboard trying to give it to pre-transitioned five— and five is just touched- almost tempted to actually take it, but he doesn’t take it- instead he blips, then puts it back but he still appreciates the thought :((

the euphoria of him wearing his first binder, his first suit, being finally referred as sir and he/him for the first time— right after- when he gets to look at the mirror, he feels so manly, and for once- he felt right in place, not as if he were a missing piece in the wrong puzzle

you referring him as your boyfriend, or husband even, he won’t admit it, but it puts the most giant smile in his face, and his ears go red just from it, not just he feels so honored, but its also cos he feels so validated by you, someone he cares about so much that he swears he could kiss you right then and there <33 (he doesn’t, but in closed doors, he slipped a little peck or two) (i just love this man sm i cant)