#why would you want his supposed best friend be a transphobe to him. please look within and deep why you actually think that and want that-

[myhouse-pk3]

when scott tibb haters + trans adam truthers for some reason wanna argue that scott doesnt support adam and his gender identity and thinks hes still a girl (in the situation of ftm transness) and is transphobic to him; they better know that im putting nails in their shoes and putting a jar of acid on top of a slightly ajar door so that when they walk in acid falls onto them

[going-dead]

Phasmophobia

Danny was very sick of tourists coming to explore Amity park. Like very sick of them, especially the ‘ghost hunter’ ones. In the end they just caused more problems than the actual ghosts, getting in the way of the fights causing Danny more stress and injuries than normal. Not to mention they sucked at their so called jobs. He was pretty sure even a single elementary schooler of Amity was a better ghost fighter than all of the tourists combined.

But at the moment it was the dead of winter and probably one of the coldest weeks of the year. So only the stupidest of self proclaimed ghost hunters would venture out to hunt ghosts in weather like this. While it was nice not having to worry about danger prone tourists Danny still was miserable, he could deal with the cold just fine in fact he preferred the cold. The problem was that It was the holiday season, the worst time of the year. At least the ghost attacks were less frequent as they all prepared for the Christmas truce party.

Still he supposed it could be worse. His parents weren’t fighting as much this year, though that was probably due to the fact they were still treating him like he was made of glass half of the time after he told them about the whole half dead thing. Danny figured that was due to the fact they blamed themselves for the portal incident, causing them to coddle him to an almost tortuous degree. It was as if they expected him to disappear if he was so much as bumped in the wrong way. It had gotten a bit better at this point at least, if things continued as it did at the beginning Danny was pretty sure he’d rather have them still be shooting at him. Now they only tensed up when he left the house instead of not so subtly stalking him all day.

At the moment Danny was sitting on the counter in the kitchen with his mom while she was cooking dinner. “Danny dear get off the counter that’s where the food goes not you.” Maddie said shooing him off the counter with a spatula.

Danny floated off in a huff, “This is ghostphobic mom. The counter is a perfect seat.”

Maddie rolled her eyes, “The term would be phasmophobic, and no it’s not it’s; I don’t want your butt all over where I’m making our dinner-phobic.”

“Fine transphobic then.”

“How about asking you to set the table? What would that be?”

Danny mulled it over for a few seconds. “A reasonable request I suppose.” He phased his hands though the cabinets grabbing the plates. Honestly he could have just as easily grabbed them normally but he was still trying to get his parents used to him having powers. “Oh by the way Sam, Tucker, and I are hanging out tomorrow to celebrate winter break starting and school being out for two whole weeks.” “Alright sweetie, but be safe okay?”

“Of course I will be mom.”

“I mean it Danny, please.”

Danny sighed “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to text you regularly to let you know I’m safe. I’ll be fine and stay out of trouble, I promise” Maddie nodded seemingly plated at least for the time being.

The next day Danny was really regretting making that promise. The day started out so well too. Danny, Sam, and Tucker were walking along the park trail. Danny was walking a few steps in front of the other two, subtly making the path easier with his powers. The only people out insane enough to bear the cold were people who had to go to work and teens who were bored out of their minds.

“All I’m saying Danny is that if you want to choose that class you should choose a race other than human for once. Hellspawn would be the best option in your case.” Tucker argued.

“Says the dude playing the race for furries.” Danny shot back turning his head to look back at his friend.

“Hey! The beastmen race is a perfect fit for my class, they have an exp boost for trickery and magic skills  it’s the best for playing a character who mains in ambushing with traps.

“Boys boys stop arguing. Danny will be fine playing as a human he’s just gonna have to spend more time grinding. Also he’s right, beastmen are so the furry option.” Sam cut in.

“Whatever, I just don’t understand why he always plays the most boring race in every game he plays. I mean why would you want to play as a human when you could be a fantasy race like an elf or something.”

“Well that’s easy for you and Sam to say you both are still hum-,” Danny was cut off mid sentence by his ghost sense and a glowing red circle surrounding the group. He hardly had a chance to go ghost before being fully enveloped by the light.

When Danny was finally oriented enough to open his eyes he vowed to never complain about getting motion sick while his dad was driving again if it meant he would never have to go through that awful experience again. It felt like getting sucked into the Fenton Thermos if it was the size of a straw and being spun in a blender all at the same time. He looked around seeing if his friends were brought along with him. And just his luck, of course they got pulled through whatever the hell that was too.

“Ugh, you guys okay?” He closed his eyes again and focused on stabilizing his core and getting the last of the nausea to leave.

“Bleh I think I’m gonna hurl.” Sam groaned from beside him.

Danny heard Tucker shift beside him. “Yeah I’m good, I guess all that time staying up late playing VR games kinda helped against motion sickness. Landed on my arm though so definitely going to bruise later. Where are we anyway?”

That actually was a good question, Danny lifted himself off the ground literally, using legs to stand was lame anyway. The sight he was met with was both confusing and surprising. Looking down he saw that the three of them were in some sort of red magic circle or something, with candles lit around it. Looking past that was the part that was surprising. He was expecting this to be the work of a ghost but standing in a circle around the three of them were six  humans in different colored robes. He couldn’t recognize any of them though, they must have been from out of town or just total shut ins. He was pretty sure he recognized where they were though, it was the basement of an abandoned building next to the mall, Sam was super into urban exploring the year before and it was one of the first places she dragged the two boys to.

“Haha uhh hey didn’t know there was a costume party going on, I would have dressed up, looks like you got all the colored robe thing going on though. Would my hazmat suit work instead of a robe?” Danny looked at the group around him and cracked an uneasy smile. Maybe it was some sort of accidental ghost summoning or something, it wouldn’t be the first time. Though the fact it brought his friends along pointed to it either being on purpose or something much more powerful, or both.

The man in the black robe turned to a woman in a white one. “Why did the spell bring two kids along with it .”

Danny tried to ignore being called an ‘it’ not like his parents didn’t do it before they knew about his identity. “I’m not the murder clown and I do have a name you know.” But his words seemed to fall onto deaf ears.

“I did the calculations right if that’s what you’re trying to imply, as you can see the subject did appear in the circle as planned. We probably just underestimated how much power the sacrifice would provide with the addition of the solstice.” White robe snapped. Great, this was totally just what Danny needed at the start of his winter break. Not only did they seem like ghost hunters they were the crazy obsessed culty ones.

“Either way the goal was achieved in the end, we have the ghost boy.” Black robe pointed to two men, one in yellow and one in blue robes. “Take care of the two bystanders, but don’t kill them. After all we shouldn’t kill our soon to be followers.” Yeah that wasn’t concerning at all Danny thought.

The one in the yellow grabbed Sam and the one in the blue grabbed Tucker at the black robed man's command. Danny assumed that probably meant the black robed one was the one in charge here. “Hey! Get your hands off me you freaks!” Sam yelled, struggling against the man’s grip.

But Danny’s friends didn’t have a chance against people twice their size. Before either of them could struggle more the two men slammed their heads to the ground in almost unison, knocking them out almost instantly. It happened so fast all Danny would do is watch on in horror. He felt like he watched their now limp bodies for ages, their chests shallowly rising at least giving him the relief of knowing they were still alive. But the sight of small puddles of blood forming around their heads snapped him out of his horror and into a rage.

Danny placed his feet to the ground turning to look at the two in the black and white robes. “Why?” He seethed, “You said they were accidentally brought along when you were trying to get me here. Technically in a way this falls onto me. So tell me, why?”

The man in the black robe seemed taken aback from being confronted so suddenly. The woman in white didn’t seem to have the same problem, maybe they both were in charge? Honestly though Danny didn’t care at this point. “We will take over the little town you haunt. After we do that we will find out where all the ghosts are originating from and then make them into our soldiers so we can take over the country and then the world. To do that we obviously needed you out of the way since you seem to be the only one capable of combating the other ghosts that come into this world. Or you would just defeat our pawns before they could take true action. So we found a way to summon and trap ghosts, then brought you here so we could get you out of our way.”

Honestly Danny was disappointed hearing that more than anything, his rage almost completely disappeared after hearing the plan. “Hold up that is the stupidest plan I have ever heard.” And that was saying something seeing as he dealt with Vlad's plans on a weekly basis. “First off you do realize it would be very hard to get or even force ghosts into your service if you don’t offer them, anything in return. Not to mention how some ghosts have almost godlike powers and you expect to overpower them? Also I am not even close to the only one who can fight ghosts. Everyone in Amity Park has at least some know how when it comes to ghost fighting. They sell basic ghost protection equipment at the supermarket. I just happen to be better suited than everyone else because I y’know can like fly and go intangible when chasing them. Using ghosts to take over the world is so stupid do you even know how to properly catch a ghost? Seriously this is like next level dumb, not to mention how did you even know the summoning would work if it didn't you’d just all be standing in a darkly lit room looking dumber than you already do.”

That seemed to anger the white one a lot. Apparently she didn’t like her intelligence questioned. “Why you little-.” She stomped her foot. “This plan was thought through down to the smallest detail. You want to know how it worked huh? How about asking your friend over there. I wonder what happens when the dead are killed? You will find out soon enough.”

Danny looked over to where we gestured and his refound taunting attitude vanished. Laying over in the corner inside a smaller less complex looking circle was a ghost or the ectoplasmic remains of one at least, the core was completely destroyed. Judging by the fact that the ectoplasm was red it probably had a fire core before it was destroyed. From the lingering ecto signature Danny doubted the ghost was even sapient. It was most likely the remains of something like a blob ghost or the ghost of an animal or even a weaker ectopus. Still all he could do was stare at the remains in horror.

“Of course summoning you was harder so we used that thing for its ghost energy to help power the circle. Instead of chalk we used it’s ectoplasm to ensure the strength and longevity of the seal to hold you in the circle.” The woman smiled as if she achieved something great. Achieve something she did indeed, but it certainly was not what she intended.

The rage Danny felt before came back in full force. Before with his friends he at least knew they would recover, all three of them got injured fighting ghosts more often than they should. But to injure a ghost to the point where not even their core remained was something so taboo that only the most despicable ghosts would do. Even Skulker kept the cores of his prey stable enough not to fade away completely. A ghost's form could be completely destroyed but as long as their core remained they would reform back where they first formed in the Ghost Zone. The only ghosts Danny could think of who would go out of their way to destroy a core were some of the ancients like Pariah Dark or Nocturne.

Danny finally managed to tear his eyes away from the ghost's remains to lock eyes with the woman. She and the black robed man took a step back out of instinct. Looking into his eyes they felt the feeling every animal of prey felt when it knew it was being watched, being hunted. The temperature in the room dropped and frost started to crawl across the walls. Danny took a step towards the two leaders before pausing to reconsider and turning and starting towards the two men standing above his friends.

Then men in yellow and blue robes looked to the man in black for guidance, unsure of what action to take. He looked uncertain as well but shook his head. “There’s no way it can pass through the seal, we tested it.”

Danny's eyes flicked over to the man then back to the two who hurt his friends and gave them a predatory grin, his teeth now looking slightly sharper than usual. He made no sound as he stepped over the circle with ease closer and closer to the two men. They both reached for their weapons, small bats, apparently they were the muscle of the group, and swung at the approaching ghost. Danny simply went intangible causing the two to overswing and hit each other instead, knocking the wind out of them both and causing them to drop their bats. While they were catching their breath Danny grabbed them by their hair and knocked their heads together. Their bodies crumbled to the floor just a few inches from the teens they did the same to just minutes before.

The one who had yet to say or do anything, dressed in red, made her way towards Danny while his back was towards her. Just as she got within arms reach of him she slipped and fell. The temperature had dropped even more at this point causing the ground surrounding Danny to ice over. Danny hardly acknowledged the large thud behind him simply trapping the fallen woman up to her neck in ice as he walked past and headed towards his final two targets.

When first summoned by the group Danny could, within reason, probably be passed off as a weirdish looking human excluding the glow around him. But now as he stalked towards his prey that was no longer the case. His chest no longer moved like it was breathing. His feet made no sound as they made contact with the ground. His eyes, non-blinking, no longer had pupils or even whites to them just a void of endless ectoplasmic green. His ears were pointed almost bat like. The tips of which, along with his lips, were tinted blue. His hair, normally white like snow, now was just the white that came from complete absence of any color. The hair was defying gravity almost as if it was underwater while smoke like wisps trailed off from his hair as he moved. His mouth was twisted into an emotionless smile splitting through his cheeks showing needle like teeth all the way back to where his molars would have been, there was no tongue or throat behind them, just another endless green void. The skin of his neck that was showing past the hazmat suit was marked with lightning like scars. The glow around him seemed to absorb all the light in the room.

The man in the black robe looked between the approaching horror and his partner before running towards the exit. Danny moved so fast it was almost as if he materialized right in front of the man. The man stumbled back falling down in shock but still tried to scramble away from him crossing his chest as he did so. Just as Danny started to raise his arm towards the man he paused and lurched back.

He looked down at his chest where an ornate knife was now lodged. Holding onto the hilt was the woman, she gave the knife a final twist before letting go and herding her partner into the corner farthest away from Danny. Danny showed no pain as he grabbed the knife and pulled it out, the blade was dripping with ectoplasm, and dropped it on the ground. The wound in his chest already healing, filling with more ectoplasm to replace what was lost.

The smile that was marring Danny’s face was replaced with a scowl as he made his way towards the corner where the two were cowering. Placing a hand on their necks he lifted them both up against the wall and started slowly burning their skin with an ectoblast. He let them go, letting them fall to the ground only when their screams of pain turned silent as crushed vocal cords and burnt throat muscles took their toll. Both cult leaders looked up at him in horror faces pale. "What's wrong?" Danny smiled, "It looks like you've seen a ghost."

The woman looked at him in fear as she grasped at the raw skin of her throat, which now was covered in blisters and charred in some of the worst places. “Wha-, what, what are you?” She managed to rasp out before coughing up some blood.

Danny let out a dark chuckle, his voice echoed over itself. “I-,” he snarled, “am a Phantom .”

After Danny sent an anonymous tip to the police about the cult, he brought his friends back to his house. Of course his mom freaked out after he stopped responding to her texts and even more when he phased into the living room with an unconscious Sam and Tucker. He was pretty sure she was about to break out the BOOmerang if she didn’t hear from him for much longer. She was more than willing to take the two of them to the hospital to get them checked out.

Danny made a quick stop into the ghost zone to tell Clockwork to spread the word to other ghosts to be on alert and that there were humans that were trying to summon and capture ghosts. After telling Clockwork what happened, in much more detail than the briefest summary he gave his mom, including how he probably went a bit overboard with dealing with the cultists. He also admitted he didn't regret it even if he did go overboard. They hurt his friends and caused a ghost to completely fade, and in Danny’s opinion they deserve whatever came to them. The whole story caused Clockwork to also start fretting over him making sure to let Danny know that his reaction was a completely normal response to someone threatening something that falls within his obsession especially since it happened in his haunt of all places. Danny swore that his ghostly mentor could be worse than his own parents sometimes especially when it came to reassuring him about his more ghostly tendencies.  

Luckily after being released from the hospital it turned out the worst Sam and Tucker suffered were concussions that would heal in a decently short amount of time. That didn’t mean they weren’t complaining about it though.

“Stop laughing about my suffering Danny! I won’t be able to start playing Fantasy War Online VII until my two week tech restriction is lifted by my doctor. It was bad enough I had to go to a hospital but to be taken away from my lovely devices as well is just too much.” Tucker lamented.  

“Quit complaining and suck it up. I’m on the restriction too Tucker.” Sam pointed out.

Tucker huffed. “Yeah well you’ll probably manage to catch up to all the people who are getting it on release day easily, since you’re scarily good at MMO’s.” He flopped back onto Danny’s bed. “Hey at least this gives us more time to convince Danny to play something other than a human for once in his life. Like I said before the hellspawn is the perfect race for the build you’re going for.”

Danny just rolled his eyes. “And like I said before, I like being a human.” “Whatever dude just don’t complain when I utterly beat you if we end up fighting because you wanted to be the lamest most boring race ever.”

Danny shrugged. “Somehow I’ll cope, I just think it’s nice to be seen as normal and not scary.”

Sam laughed. “Danny you are the least scary person like to ever exist. The only things scary about you are your grades and your wacky parents. I doubt you could be scary if you tried.”

Danny looked out the window watching the stars as they started to appear in the sky. “...Yeah I guess you’re right.”

[queenboudicaa]

From Graham Linehan from The Glinner Update grahamlinehan@substack.com

Played The Fool

Sue Donym

Sep 16

I remember my college days studying journalism, which don't seem so long ago, but actually are now, and as a young eighteen year old, a friend gives me something she says explains gender. It is Judith Butler's Gender Trouble. I have heard of this book. People treat it like The Bible. I eagerly open the book and attempt to read it.

I cannot make heads or tails of it. I conclude I simply am not smart enough or well-read enough to understand the religious revelation. I make it to page sixty before giving up, the constant mentions of ‘Althusserian’ and ‘structuralist’ and ‘reifying’ finally defeating me. I don’t feel like any of the book has actually managed to lodge itself in my head.

I give the book back to my friend, and then I pretend to everyone around me that I have read the book. No one figures me out.

When I get older, I realize they all did the same thing.

In my senior year, I win election to student government. I am to represent ‘LGBT’ people. I am proud. I am unaware I am now standing on a cliff, the ground beneath me slowly breaking. I bury my head in the sand as my position becomes increasingly precarious.

I meet with faculty during the first semester. I read through a policy. Suddenly ‘LGBT’ has morphed. It’s ‘LGBTQI+’. I don’t know what the Q and I stand for, let alone that seemingly erroneous plus sign. I am supposed to be the expert, and all these middle-aged people are looking at me to explain the youth speak which is even bedeviling I, the putative youth. I muddle through, using this surprise new acronym, and then I Google it surreptitiously in the meeting. It means ‘Queer’ and ‘Intersex’, and the plus sign appears to be decorative in nature. I wonder what the Q covers that ‘LGBT’ doesn’t, let alone the God-damned plus sign, and I wonder why ‘intersex’ needs to be included at all.

They talk enthusiastically about how everyone has a gender. There are women with penises, men with vaginas. Gender is understood to be how you feel inside. I contort my mind around this way of thinking as best I can. A man is someone who behaves like a man, and a woman is someone who behaves like a woman. That is the working definition you have, even though you paper over it with phrases like ‘identifies as.’

I don’t think about. You can’t. You are told this is how it is, how it has always been, to think otherwise is actually you replicating the kyriarchy, over and over and over again, and you nod and accept it, because you are given this set of facts and told to nod. Pseudoscience justifies it. People talk about ‘brain scans’ and ‘the wrong bodymap’, and ‘indigenous genders’. It’s all conjectural bullshit, but everyone goes along with it.

When I can’t perform the cognitive contortions, I simply don’t acknowledge contradicting evidence. To do so would be to jump off a cliff into an abyss. It is a reflexive thing, unconscious, and its origins lie in the instinct for self-preservation.

Everyone goes along with it. I am a coward, so I accept it and move on. I am twenty two years old, and I don’t know any better, and I want to trust the organizations that say they hold my best interests at heart.

Part of my role on student government was providing student-based pastoral care in my college’s LGBT center. By the time I get there, it’s morphed into the LGBTQI+ Center. I consider myself even-keeled and well-adjusted, perfect to help ‘my people’.

Many of the people that come see me have fairly normal problems. I speak to lecturers about not being homophobic, meet with faculty about LGBTQI issues, and sit through interminably boring student government meetings full of bloviating Young Democrats self-assured about their future self-importance. Increasingly, more people come to speak to me about trans issues. Walking through the center one day, someone assumes I am a ‘pre-hormones trans man’. When I correct them, and say I am a butch lesbian, they suddenly become hostile. I don’t know why, but I feel offended to my very bones about being assumed to be a man.

More and more of my fellow butches suddenly start declaring themselves to ‘truly be men.’ I don’t think about this. You’re not supposed to think about it, or question them, just accept and affirm and acknowledge and adulate their new found authenticity. I get a new package of fliers from an LGBT charity, open them up, and suddenly find that I, simply defined as ‘butch’ (forget the lesbian!) am now supposedly ‘trans’ and under the ‘trans umbrella.’ I call this ridiculous, and loudly.

Someone pulls me aside to ask why I’m being so transphobic.

I meet with a charity group. They have this young woman on staff who declares herself ‘non-binary’ and uses ‘they/them’ pronouns. She does not strike me as gay, and her entire purview of ‘LGBT’ seems to forget the first three letters. She assumes that I am a trans man. When I tell her I am a lesbian, she asks ‘are you sure? Maybe you’ll change your mind’. She then starts talking to me about her boyfriend.

I wonder why this straight girl with dyed hair is telling me what to do on gay issues. What gives her the right?

At the end of the meeting, someone I know from the charity group tells me that ‘Aiden’ is upset I forgot her pronouns. I hadn’t realized. I tell him that this dyed hair fag hag told me I’ll change my mind about being a lesbian. He says that doesn’t excuse messing up Aiden’s pronouns.

The next time I meet Aiden, she keeps calling me ‘he’. She gets upset when I get angry with her.

My student body president sends me a please explain email the next day about upsetting Aiden.

One day in the center, in walks a man in a dress. That’s what I thought in my unfiltered thoughts, before the cognitive dissonance kicks in. But the Aiden experience has taught me a lesson to not speak up. The man uses ~the magical pronouns~, ‘she/her’ and this means he is a woman. He dresses like a prostitute downtown and declares he’s a lesbian.

He says he is a trans woman. But Chloe is different from all the trans women I had met before. They would call themselves ‘gay men gone too far’, tell you hilarious stories, wingman for me at the bar, argue about ‘when Madonna went bad’, arguments that turned into handbag duels at dawn. Many of them were older, and many of them had stories about surviving in a homophobic world, surviving AIDS, dangerous johns, and the joy they felt now, that gay rights had gone somewhere. This man was very different to them.

My hair stands up on the back of my neck every time I deal with ‘Chloe’. It requires conscious effort to make sure I don’t mess up his pronouns, because my brain says that’s ‘a fucking man’, but my cognitive dissonance around the situation and my sense of self-preservation knows that if I don’t call this man a woman I will be in for it. I have seen the results - ‘Chloe’, all six feet of ‘Chloe’, screaming at a fellow trans woman, Clara, half his size, for saying ‘you’re a man honey’. Chloe himself came to me demanding I ban her from the space. I refused.

Clara stops coming into the center. I ask her why, and she says ‘those flipping transvestites, they’re not us.’ Clara never comes back to the center.

None of this thinking about Chloe’s pronouns is conscious. I feel guilty every time my thoughts use the ‘wrong pronouns’. My head is tied up in knots - not something freshman me would have considered, turning up to the center with the goal of getting laid, now trying to smile and put up with this man.

He makes every conversation in there uncomfortable. We relax when he is gone and only homosexuals are in the room.

Suddenly, my straight friends start asking if I’d ‘sleep with a trans woman’. I try laughing this off. One friend gets very insistent, and when I tell him that I wouldn’t consider someone with a dick, he starts wondering if my preferences are ‘rooted in bigotry’. I ask him if he’d sleep with a trans woman. He tells me that no, he’d prefer a woman who can have his children.

I smile and nod, and when the conversation ends, walk out of the room as fast as I can.

Chloe tells us at length about their sexual proclivities. Bondage and leather and ‘being a dom’. Chloe tells us about his lack of luck on lesbian dating apps. I keep to myself that I had ended up setting a height filter to filter out ‘the trannies.’ Nor do I tell him that me and a group of women had made fun of men like him on lesbian dating apps, swapping screenshots and Silence Of The Lambs jokes.

Soon there are more Chloes and fewer women. They all start talking about radical communism, about ‘sex work is work’, ‘cultural appropriation’, and about ‘TERFs’ and how hideous they are. One of them expounds to me at length why I shouldn’t read any feminist works from the seventies, because they hated trans women, and I wouldn’t want to hate trans women, wouldn’t I?

They all behave the same way. I keep getting reports about the Chloes harassing people in the center, particularly young lesbian women. Then there is an influx of ‘Aidens’, straight women declaring themselves to really be gay men. One of them tells me I am ‘appropriating the culture of trans men.’

One day I am in the center, and I look out the glass window of my office. There are a dozen people sitting in the common room of the center, talking animatedly. I realize none of them are lesbian or gay in the actual sense of the word. I feel uncomfortable, but I cannot articulate why I feel such discomfort.

One of the Chloes knocks on my door. This one wears a pink tube top and a pencil skirt. I am strongly reminded of Buffalo Bill. He asks me out for coffee. I decline. He asks why, as I am single. I say that I am busy that day. He tries asking for another day. I say I am playing club football that day. He keeps trying to cajole me. Eventually I dispense with the politeness and tell him I am not interested in him. He shouts at me that I am transphobic and leaves.

A few hours later, my phone blows up. His friends are calling me transphobic for not being interested in him. It’s just one date, they say. One little coffee. You might like it. You don’t know. Your last girlfriend dressed the same. You need to unlearn your genital preferences.

I think to myself my last girlfriend was a foot shorter and had a vagina, but I don’t say anything. I ignore the messages. He is allowed boundaries. I am not.

I am sitting in a class. It’s on sexual histories, a class I took to broaden my horizons from my journalism degree. I try not to think of the student loan I’ll be incurring from taking it.

Strangely enough, it is perhaps the first blow to the self-imposed contortions of my thoughts. The professor starts his lecture by pronouncing that sexual orientation is, in fact, a social construct. He explains that the word ‘homosexuality’ did not exist until the 19th century, and thus, homosexuals are a creation of repressive Victorian sexuality. I find this theory strange. I had grown up in the ‘born this way’ era, to be sure, but my homosexuality seemed biological, instinctual, basal to my very way of being. A powerful attraction to women came to me as naturally as breathing, or seeing, or farting inappropriately on the second date. Yet here was this man telling me, that in fact, my perceptions were merely constructs based on my surroundings.

It seemed strange to me. Someone from the class, notorious for asking questions, puts his hands up and asks about the Romans - you see, he is a student of the classics, and he remarks that the Romans knew of homosexuals. The professor gravely informs in that in fact the Romans were aware of a ‘behavior’, and that as ‘homosexual’ as a word did not exist at the time, there were no homosexuals. Only behaviors, that we codify and understand on a cultural basis.

This made less sense to me than before. It made even less sense to me when someone else asks about trans people. The professor remarks that ‘trans people have always existed’.

Yet homosexuals were invented by the first sexologists, rather than through self-definition? We had to have heterosexuals invent us, as other, first?

I am sitting with some gay friends, and one of them complains about the focus on trans issues when we still don’t have same-sex marriage federally yet. We talk about our disappearing spaces, and I voice that sometimes I am the only lesbian out of thirty people sitting in the LGBTQI+ student center (it had been renamed). I think of it in terms of getting laid - because suddenly all the ‘lesbians’ in the center had penises. It happened so quickly that it was easy to notice. I went to a lesbian group, and it was a sausage fest I made up an excuse to leave. The Chloes moved in, and the lesbians instantly left. I feel constantly uncomfortable, watched, stared at, envied. The Chloes all talk about their genitalia and violent pornography at length, in public, and it makes me feel gross and dirty, and I start to dislike most of them.

I post on my Tinder that I’m not into penis. I log in the next day to find out my account has been banned. Tinder never gives me a straight answer as to why I was banned.

I finish out my term on student government. I don’t run again. I’m a senior. I finish my degree and hurry off to the real world. One of the Chloes takes my place as ‘LGBTQI+ students representative’.

It is the one who tried getting me to go out on a date with him. He makes me feel uncomfortable throughout the whole handover.

I am upset, because he will destroy everything I worked for.

I go to the gay bar with some friends. But when we go, we feel like the only homosexuals in the whole god-damn bar. It’s full of people with dyed hair. A man in a dress tries grinding on me, and when I turn around and tell him no, he calls me ‘transphobic towards trans femmes’. When I declare I am a butch lesbian, people ask if I am a ‘TERF’. I don’t know what a ‘TERF’ is, other than ‘terfs’ are bad. I have been told terfs are bad, so it has to be true right? I don’t want to be a bad person.

I try going to other gay events, and suddenly I am outnumbered. Me, a few older lesbians, and some gay men huddle in a corner of spaces we once proudly called our own, as the Chloes and the Aidens declare it their own - and even worse, that they are just the same as us. It is unnerving, and they no longer feel like safe spaces for me. Gradually, we all stop going. There were no more gay people in the gay space.

I have a lesbian friend. She tells me excitedly about a first date. She meets them in a quirky coffee shop. It is a trans woman twice her size. When she tells the trans woman that she’s not interested, they lose it at her in the coffee shop, calling her a transphobic bigot and screaming and shouting and threatening to hit her.

She tells me, because she knows I don’t tell people things. But she cannot say anything in public. She’ll be transphobic. So she keeps it to herself, and this man gets to continue preying on women who think they’re safe, catfishing, coercing and abusing them.

To say otherwise gets you labelled a terf. And terfs are bad. Why are terfs bad? Don’t ask. Just accept that terfs are bad. Terfs hurt trans women, and you wouldn’t want to do that, would you?

Eventually, my friend hears of her date doing it to someone else. She writes a call out post, saying that you shouldn’t hide important facts about yourself on dating sites. She gets called a terf for saying that ‘lesbians don’t have dicks’, and being verbally abused in public was the rational response of an oppressed person to oppression. It’s a scarlet letter, and she is branded with it. I am a coward and I do not speak up in public. I hate myself. I am thinking of my personal prospects, and not my friend, and not my people. Because if I speak up, I can kiss the career I dream about goodbye. I fear that scarlet letter being branded on my forehead.

I tell my friend in private that I support her. But I daren’t say that in public.

I daren’t ask questions.

One day, I am aimlessly browsing the internet at work. I have written enough copy to cover my ass for the next few weeks. I wait until my boss leaves for the afternoon, and wait out the rest of the day mindlessly scrolling. I see a post in an LGBTQI+ students group on Facebook I’ve forgotten to leave. It’s a troll post, which is apparently ‘terf rhetoric’. The link is still there, and the comments are blowing up, united in performative outrage.

I click the link . I find myself laughing at the description of ‘men in dresses’. To these ‘terfs’, a man has a penis, and a woman has a vagina. Anyone saying otherwise is a damned fool. It seems such an easy way to think about it. I mean, what is a woman, anyway? It doesn’t seem evil, wicked or bad. It seems… sensible.

Finding out more about this new way of thinking becomes addicting. I keep my scrolling through it on my phone. I have always had a fondness for reading people being harshly critical about anything, and now I have an endless source of it, articulating things I knew instinctually but could never find the words to verbalize, could never find the courage to verbalize. I wonder if I am being radicalized - images of ISIS radicalizing fighters over the internet run through my head. But everything seems to make so much sense. I am no longer contorting my thoughts around the desires of others, but thinking freely, observationally, openly, fearlessly.

It felt like my mind had freed itself from chains, chains placed upon it all those years ago, when that naïve eighteen year old who wanted to get laid tried reading Gender Trouble.

The gunk on my mind slowly unclogged. My way of thinking suddenly changed. I was no longer denying what my eyes saw in front of me. No, now I saw things as they were. There was no more contorting my way of thought. For the first time in a long time, I felt clear-headed.

One of the links I clicked in my flurry was a link to Dr. Ray Blanchard’s paper on ‘autogynephilia’. I read it, and finally, I had an explanation. Homosexual transsexuals. And ‘autogynephiles.’ The two types of his famous and controversial typology.

‘Autogynephiles’ - men who had a sexual fetish for ‘being a woman’, a fetish for an alter-ego female self, a fetish for our bodies, our minds, our souls, our experiences. All reduced to jerk-off fodder for some blockhead man.

It explained why they were so desperate for lesbians to date them. They needed us for validating their sexual fetish. Our lives and experiences, our spaces, our dating apps, our culture, our media, our websites, every breath we took, as far as they were concerned, needed to be focused on validating them. Because otherwise, the fantasy was ruined! This straight man would not be able to jerk off over ‘being a lesbian!’. We were not people, we were non-player-characters in their video game. Actresses in pornography, extras in a film where they were the protagonist, and we were off script. We weren’t fully-formed people, with our own desires, we were things, objects, film props.

The entire gay movement, from the lesbians to the gays, to the homosexual transsexuals, reduced to nothing props in some straight man’s sexual fantasy. That’s all we were to them, ultimately.

And I was expected to go along with it?! We were all expected to go along with it?

Not only that, I had gone along with it. I had advocated for this.

What had I done?

Every moment you come close, every moment you start thinking something isn’t right, you start feeling a little foolish.

Of course this is fine. Everyone is telling me so. The media, the public, the people around you. No one voices concerns. When you have them, you don’t say anything, because no one else is, and because you are a coward.

You feel a little foolish because this is foolish. Saying some women have penises is foolish. You know it is foolish, from the minute that idiot phrase leaves your mouth, to the minute it dances across your tongue, to the minute your nerves send the signal to your larynx to make the required movements to produce the very sounds. But, you think, you are no fool.

You are no fool, you think, when someone says ‘biological women have XY chromosomes’, or that it’s okay for a man on the college track team to identify as a woman and take a place on the woman’s track team. You know that’s not right. But everyone else is going along with it, and you are no fool, and you shouldn’t feel foolish, because everyone says this is the right thing to do, the right side of history, doing right by an oppressed minority, so you go along with it.

You are frightened of realizing you are a fool. So too, is everyone around you. No one likes being played the fool, no one likes realizing they were sold a pack of lives as a naïve eighteen year old looking for other gay people. And no one plays you for a fool. And thus the dance continues, everyone one too frightened to admit that, perhaps, we are all fools, believing in something physically impossible, no different to the bible-banging megachurch attendee, with our owns chants, our own magic words, ritual knowledge, and ability to be born again. We are smart. We liberal. We are on the right side of history. We couldn’t be believing in something that isn’t scientifically backed. We’re smarter than that. We’re not fools.

And when it finally gets too much, and you drift over to the cliff’s edge, the cliff that you can see the bottom of, the cliff you know you can’t come back from, you pull away. Because to go over it would to be to admit that you’ve been played the fool. No one likes that feeling, the shame, the embarrassment, the horror, the fear. What lies over that cliff is exile, a scarlet letter, fear and hatred and nasty women who just want trans women dead.

What lies beyond that cliff is a realization that you have been used. You have been used by something greater than yourself, to push medication on children. You have been used by straight men to participate in their sexual fetish without your consent. Your entire community, rendered a jerk-off prop for some straight man over night, and you were told that objecting was ‘transphobic’. You have been used to spread homophobia beyond your comprehension, to take part in the destruction of your own community, and you were told this was right and good.

To realize this, to acknowledge it, to move on and try and forge something better, that takes true strength of character. To realize this, to deny it, and obfuscate what you are doing, that I can understand. I too, was once a coward. I too, did not want to believe what my eyes told me was sitting in front of me. That cliff is scary, and to jump off it seemingly lies nothing but social death.

But eventually something pushes you over, without your consent. You realize you have been played the fool, because finally, something so gratuitous occurs that you must. Even the greatest cowards will eventually be blown off the cliff. The music will stop, and the dance will end, and you will finally feel the shame, the embarrassment, the horror, the fear, the guilt.

Because no one likes being played for a fool.

Perhaps, then, it is best to get this over and done with now, while you still have dignity to defend.

Some details have been changed to protect the identities of those concerned.

[gacy-lajla]

karasuno x trans!reader

warnings: accidental and intended misgendering, transphobic comments like twice and probably a curse or two

summary: after outing yourself as a trans man you were forced to live with your uncle Ittetsu Takeda and transfer schools

a/n: heya i’ve been binge watching haikyuu this past month or less (currently through half of season 4) and i just really really wanted to read some content where the reader is transgender!! i’m agender (they/them or he because we don’t have neutral pronouns where i live)

_____

Training started just like always, after a quick warm up everyone got back to improving on their skills. The team worked like clockwork as they practised as a group – of course not leaving out a little banter here and there. Coach Ukai was currently talking outside with Takeda which was nothing too out of the ordinary. The team was used to depend on themselves and coordinate accordingly. What they didn’t expect was for the two absentees to enter with a third person again. You. Tanaka and Nishinoya were the first to react, curiosity making the served ball drop.

“Is that a new manager?” Nishinoya’s eyes lit up as he took in the figure of the new person – Karasuno sure was lucky in that regard, it seemed.

“She looks cute, but not as cute as our Kiyoko!”, Tanaka added in, standing next to the Libero.

The other players attention was on you shortly after, taking your presence in before Sugawara scolded the two friends for being distracted that easily and to keep their eyes on the ball. They were about to resume when Takeda called for everyone’s attention. Quickly gathering around the coach, the teacher and the newcomer they bowed their heads in greeting, just as you did.

Harshly giving you two pats on your left shoulder blade Ukai made you step forward with himself, giving you a reassuring smile in the process. You rubbed your cold hands together, nervousness taking over your body as all eyes were now set on you. Catching on quickly the man introduced you to the team himself.

“Everyone, this is (y/n), a third year. He recently transferred to this school and will be joining our team from now on, I expect you to be respectful towards him.”

You bowed again giving a small “pleased to meet you”, thankful that Ukai spared you of making a fool out of yourself by tripping over your own words. After that you got a short introduction from everyone, trying your best to remember their names immediately but that wasn’t really your forte so you just told yourself you’d pay attention to the others calling each other’s names.

After that you warmed yourself up to join them in the actual training. During that time you couldn’t help but listen in on some of the conversations as there wasn’t much else to focus on.

“Isn’t that a girl? Why is she training with the boys?”

“Yeah, wouldn’t it be better if she just joined the girl’s training?”

“I heard that she’s actually a he.”

You didn’t pay attention to who was talking – they seemed not to be part of the volleyball club – but it sure hit you in the most vulnerable of all places. Just until recently you had been playing with the girls from your former school. You actually transferred because, after coming out as trans, you have been excluded from any gendered club activities as the authority was unsure about how to handle a case such as yourself. There were also some actions inside of school which convinced you that your former school was not the ideal place for you to stay at. Not only that but your parents sent you to stay with your uncle – Ittetsu Takeda – because obviously you were ungrateful towards them. Not that you really mind, he’s much nicer and way more understanding – well, still in the process of understanding, but at least he’s trying his best, which was nice.

“It’s weird calling someone with boobs ‘he’.”

Your jog slowed down, your mind trying to focus on suppressing tears that threatened to appear. Taking a deep breath you gained some tempo again before taking a stop next to the coach again.

“I think I’ve warmed up enough, am I supposed to just… join them?”

Ukai nodded so you continued to walk towards the line waiting to receive their spikes. In your old team you didn’t really have a set position, rotating it around inside the group as the sport wasn’t taken too seriously. Though opponents were cautious of you every time you went out on an attack you had to admit that you had more fun in a defensive position, receiving the ball was one of the best feelings you could imagine while playing on the field. But when it came to skill you would probably be considered an all-rounder.

It didn’t take long until it was your turn to hit the ball – two setters being present making progress like clockwork. You got a pass from a grey haired boy, Sugawara if you remembered correctly. It was easy to remember him, he just had a sweet aura about him which made it easy to remember his name. The moment the ball hit your hand and the ground on the opposite side of the net immediately after, silence befell the room. The Libero didn’t manage to get the ball by a hairs width. Turning towards the setter you nervously played with your hands.

“Could you try to pass the ball a little higher next time? I might not be the tallest person but I can jump pretty high.”

After a brief silence a smile flashed on his face – which you immediately returned -, giving you a thumbs up. “Sure!”

Moving out of the way a boy about your height came up to you, looking at you with bright and sparkling eyes. You didn’t remember his name but you were quite sure he was a first year.

“Can you show me how you did that? When did you learn that?”

You were stunned into silence for a second, wondering what he could possibly mean. He must’ve meant your spike, right? You’ve noticed that they tended to spike their balls quite far which you didn’t – a force of habit since in your old team your teammates struggled to get the ball higher up most of the time. Rubbing the back of your neck nervously you chuckled a bit.

“Well, my old team didn’t really have a setter that managed to keep the ball at the perfect height every time so I had to adapt, I guess? So when I jump too high I just try to get the ball on the other side as close to the net as possible. It took me some time not to touch the net in the process but with enough training it just happens less frequently.”

“Woah, that’s so cool! Do you mind staying after training so you can show me, please?”

“Sure, I don’t see why not.”

After that you got quite comfortable with Sugawara’s sets which never seemed to falter. It finally felt like you were playing volleyball with people who shared the same enthusiasm as yourself which was a nice change. After a few more turns everyone was gathered again. The coach announce that you’d be playing one set before packing up for the day.

The opposing team consisted of Daichi, Sugawara, Tanaka, Kinoshita, Hinata, Yamaguchi and Nishinoya. You were teamed up with Asahi, Ennoshita, Narita, Kageyama and Tsukishima. To be honest, you really hoped you’d end up with the setter you’ve been training with already but that wishful thinking should apparently be denied. You wondered if the coach did it on purpose because he noticed you avoiding the other setter until now? Whatever it was there was no time to complain, not that you actually would.

You started in the back left – thankfully not serving the ball as you struggled most with it. You always made little mistakes, if it was throwing the ball too high or too low, but most commonly not noticing that you stepped over the line. Yes, when you hit the ball you usually hit it hard but if it didn’t reach the other side of the net or flew into the out there was no use to it.

The whistle ripped you out of your thoughts, focusing on the game. Yamaguchi had the first serve. It seemed like the ball was heading straight for Ennoshita next to you but in the last moment it drifted off to the side towards you. Noticing this you quickly sprang into action, diving for the ball. Despite managing to touch it there was no way of it to be saved, the first point going to the opposite team. That had to be a jump float serve! Impressed you looked at the boy breathing a quiet ‘woah’ before resuming your position. Ennoshita turned toward you as well.

“You react quick, I’m sure we’ll get the next one!”

You smiled at him, nodding.

The next serve was easier to react to as Yamaguchi failed to hit the ball right, resulting in Ennoshita successfully receiving. Next thing you knew your teams setter passed the ball towards the guy with the ponytail in front of you, spiking the ball with confidence only to be received by Daichi.

“Good spike!”, you cheered the guy in front of you, receiving a shy ‘thanks’ in return.

The other team struggled a little with the received ball, the second touch not reaching the setter resulting in a successful block from the tall blonde with the glasses, earning your first point. Encouraging words were exchanged and your team rotated its players clockwise, you now standing in the front left, ponytail standing to your right and Ennoshita behind you, Narita having the next serve. His hit seemed a little unstable but ended up rolling over the net, earning you yet another point.

His next serve seemed more intentional but was easily received by Daichi once more, passing the ball to Sugawara who set the ball nicely for Tanaka, but the tall blonde managed to touch the ball taking a direct course towards Narita once again who passed the ball towards your setter. You took the opportunity to run forward, either receiving the ball or distracting the other players – you assumed that he’d play to the ponytail guy again since the middle blocker was smaller by a few heads and thus less likely to block the ball. Sugawara, opposite of you, kept you covered, not joining the small redhead. And just as you predicted ponytail got the ball. What took you a little by surprise was the height the first year student reached, he was easily on par with you. But that didn’t help as a point was scored nonetheless.

The game went on, a head to head game. Your team had 12 points while the opponents had 14. You had scored none of the points, the setter not having played once in your direction. It bugged you, yes, but you also tried to be mindful. You’ve never had any interaction with that guy so it would be hard for both of you to get used to one another, possibly making you lose more points than you would gain.

You nervously fiddled with the volleyball in your hands. It was time for your first serve and your gut was telling you something really bad was about to happen. You’d definitely screw this one up. You really wished you’d practised your serves a little more now. If you didn’t jump you probably wouldn’t be able to score at all because you knew from experience that your standing serves always ended in home runs. Gulping down whatever was blocking your airway the moment you heard the whistle you took a deep breath before throwing the ball. Taking a few quick steps you jumped, dread filling you the moment you hit the ball with all of your might. It wouldn’t be high enough.

Oh no.

A loud thud was heard and the person in front of you stumbled a little forward, holding the back of his head before falling to his knees. Panicked you rushed towards the setter, the looming silence making you wince with every squeaky step you took.

“I’m so, so incredibly sorry! Are you okay? I didn’t mean to hit you like that-”

You cut yourself off the moment the dark haired setter whipped his head around and glared at you. Taking a few steps back others rushed to his side, helping him up asking if he was alright. Reassuring them that he was alright everyone went back to their positions, albeit reluctantly. And not like this situation was humiliating enough already, the moment the coach spoke up you really wanted to be swallowed by the ground.

“(y/n), you stepped over the line.”

You felt your soul leave your body, Asahi, now to your left tried to assure you that everything was alright. But for the rest of the game you didn’t dare call out for the ball once, not having scored once in the end despite winning by a narrow margin. You really feel like you’ve fucked up this one.

After cleaning up you quickly threw on a sweater to keep yourself warm. You were about to call out to you uncle to wait for you when something quick made you stop abruptly. It was Hinata.

“Do you still don’t mind showing me that spike you did? It was really awesome and I want to see it again!”

_______

a/n: thank you for reading! I’m not sure how i want to continue this, i might just turn this into one overall thing with no focus on one character (i’d probably write something similar for other schools as well) or i might split off from here so there would be different ‘routes’ (also including other schools! as in karasuno reader and kuroo, bokuto, akaashi or whoever)

feedback regarding this would be nice :0 have a nice morning, day, evening or night <3

[91percentpynch]

false god - kevaaron au pt 5

long time no see because i was in a writing block and that sucks but i‘m back and ready to break our hearts <33 thanks to argyro for helping me figuring out what happens here

i listened to false god by taylor swift cuz the angst??? love it!!! anygays this is from kevin‘s pov, i hope it makes sense and i hope you like it <33 stay safe, drink some water and always remember only racists, trump supporters, transphobes and homophobes skip meals!!

to check out the other parts click here

Aaron wasn‘t gone for too long when Kevin‘s phone rang

He didn‘t have the energy to pick it up, just to stare it down as if some kind of magic or his sheer will power would make it stop, let him be alone with his thoughts

But obviously that didn‘t work, it never did

The phone kept ringing, slowly driving the striker mad, slowly taking his sanity.

It would be the fifth or sixth missed call that would make him get up to answer the phone

„KEVIN HI NICKY HERE, LISTEN I TRIED TO CALL YOU FOR THE PAST HALF HOUR OR SO BUT AARON‘S IN THE HOSPITAL AND I CAN‘T GET THERE UNTIL LIKE TOMORROW AND ANDREW DOESN‘T ANSWER HIS PHONE EITHER AND HE WOULD TAKE LIKE HOURS TO GET THERE AS WELL CAN YOU PLEASE GO TO HIM SO HE DOESN‘T HAVE TO BE ALONE I DON‘T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED PLEASE, KEVIN I NEVER ASKED FOR ANYTHING FROM YOU PLEASE JUST GO AND MAKE SURE MY SON IS OKAY“

„Nicky? Hi to you too. You do realize he isn‘t my responsibility and that he broke up with me and that I don‘t really have to go there. I don‘t own him shit. He made my life miserable. He probably deserves whatever happened to him“ was what Kevin wanted to answer, was probably what he was supposed to say. But deep down he knew it was not true, that Aaron never ruined his life. Made it better, made it it bareable. Made it worth living, not just existing. Made it more than Exy and Vodka.

After a few moments of silence that felt like an enterinity Kevin settled for a simple: „Which hospital?“

„OH DIO MIO GRACIAS, MUCHAS GRACIAS. ESTÁ EN EL CHICAGO HOSPITAL“, Nicky replied in Spanish. Something the Latino only did when he was either very emotional, very drunk, very angry or all at once.

Kevin didn‘t have it in him to tell Nicky that he still did not speak Spanish, he understood the hospital and that was enough. For now.

„I‘m on my way, call you later and Nicky? He‘s going to be fine. It‘s not your fault. You‘re a great mother to them, the best I‘ve ever had the pleasure to meet. Now calm down, go to Erik and take a nap. You don‘t have to come, he‘s with us. We got this. Do you want to talk to Jeremy while I go to check up on Aaron?“

„Sí“, was all Nicky had to say. Voice thick with tears.

„JER CAN YOU TALK TO NICKY AARON‘S IN THE HOSPITAL I‘M GOING THERE“, Kevin shouted into the flat.

„Absoloutly“, Jeremy replied and took the phone from Kevin.

„Mi corazón, escúchame“, was the last thing Kevin heard as it hit him. Aaron was in the hospital. Right after Kevin refused to listen to him, right after Kevin refused to let him explain himself. It was Kevin‘s fault. If Aaron died, he would have killed him. He was basically a murderer. His breathing came out uneven, his lungs didn‘t get enough air. He knew that he needed to breathe, but breathing was hard and he was weak.

Jean noticed Kevin having a panic attack when he came to check up on him. „Day, listen to me. Breathe. In... And out... In.... And out... In... And out“

Kevin‘s breathing got better, slowly but steadily.

„It‘s my fault“, the striker whispered.

„It‘s not, Kevin. It is not your fault. If you don‘t want to go there, you don‘t have to. He is not your responsibility“

„Hypothetically if Jeremy was to break up with you and you‘re hurt and sad and blame him for your misery when it‘s more the lack of him that makes you feel that way and his sister or brother or mother or whoever would call you and hysterically asked you to go look after him cause his family is stuck on another continent and the only other person who could call refuses to take the phone cause they‘re too busy doing their boyfriend, would you not go cause he is not your responsibility anymore? Because Aaron is my Jeremy. Just like Jer saved your life and made you see that live is indeed worth living, Aaron showed me the same“

„I don‘t think I would surive Jeremy leaving me, you‘ve always been stronger than me. Should I give you a ride?“, Jean whispered.

„It‘s not a thing of strenght Jean, it‘s an addiction. It used to be alcohol that made me forget, made me feel light and free and carefree. I drank and drank until I couldn‘t live without it anymore. And then I met Aaron, I tasted him, I smelled him and he chose me. Me? What did I have to offer him? A boy broken and raised by Exy. All I can offer is Exy. Nothing more. Until he made me see that it was wrong, that I am more than that. And he might have broken my heart and yes I might still love him even though he will never feel the same but I cannot not go there. I have to. I have to be there for them, the way he was always there for me“

„Get your things, we‘re going to the hospital“, Jean replied, unable to put his emotions into words.

So Jean and Kevin left for the hospital while Jeremy tried to calm Nicky down with softly whispered Spanish words.

As they arrived at the hospital Kevin stormed in there.

„Aaron Minyard“, was all he was able to say. Too many memories were connected with hospitals. Too many memories he would much rather just forget.

„Name?“, the nurse said in a bored tone.

Kevin just put a finger on his cheek.

„Kevin Day? I can‘t let you to him, only family and spouses“

„What if I sign something, we take a nice selfie and you tell me where he is. You see I‘m basically family. I‘m the closest and the others can‘t be here until at least tomorrow evening and we don‘t want the poor guy to be all alone and confused, do we?“, Kevin said with his press smile and shining eyes. He knew the charme he had on females. It was just not useful for him as he never really was into that. He never was into anyone but Aaron, to be fair.

„I could lose my job for that“, the nurse replied, her eyes wandering from his eyes to his lips and up again.

„I‘m sure I can offer you something that will you let me to go see him“, Kevin replied with a wink, being disgusted by himself that he even thought about all the possiblities this woman could ask him to do with her.

„Room 21, second floor, station E. You clearly care about him, if anyone asks it wasn‘t me“, she smiled at him. „Besides I always liked Moreau more, I‘m sure we can think of something to do while you are with the boy“

„Sorry“, Kevin whispered to Jean as he ran down the aisle trying to figure out where Aaron was.

The hostpital was a mess of busy nurses and angry doctors, but nothing could stop a determinded Kevin Day. No one. Not even Andrew Minyard.

After what felt like forever he made it to the room, kicked the door open and walked with three long strides to Aaron.

„You fucking idiot, what have you done?“, he whisper-shouted, holding back tears while taking in Aaron‘s sorry state.

„I don‘t need your fucking pity“, Aaron replied, exhausted.

„Did you tell them you can‘t have morphine? Because you might relapse, i mean you already did but we don‘t want it to get worse. And this is not pity, this is Nicky yelling at me in Spanish cause you‘re in the hospital and he‘s in Germany and I‘m the closest to you and he does not want his son to be alone“

„Andrew didn‘t care to come, did he?“, Aaron whispered into his pillow.

„Andrew does care about you he‘s just shit at showing it, that fucking asshole“, Kevin replied softly. „C‘mon what have you done Minyard?“

„Car accident, not that it‘s any of your fucking business“

„How are you?“

„Fucking great, I should let a truck drive into me more often. Very freeing. Very calming“, Aaron said sarcastically, avoiding Kevin‘s eyes.

„A truck. Drove into you?“, shock made Kevin‘s Irish accent stronger.

„Not that you would care“, Aaron‘s voice was barely more than a whisper as he turned around, back to Kevin.

„Aaron first of all I can see you naked ass and not that I wouldn‘t mind the view and I‘ve seen it often enough but the nurses don‘t have to see that too. And secondly of course I care. I always did. Always will“

Blushing Aaron turned back towards Kevin.

„Why wouldn‘t you listen to me if you care so much? You‘re exactly like like Andrew, you guys only ever care when I‘m about to die or do something that doesn‘t sit right with you. Never about me as a person. The conecept about me maybe, but me? Me as a person? No one cares about that“

„You are Aaron Minyard. Born on the 4th of November, 8:31:45 am. You grew up in California in the house next to Nicky. Nicky and you were always close and you didn‘t have many friends because of your mom. Your mom might have abused her and I might hate her for that but you still love her and I get that because on some fucked up level I still care about Riko. You are allergic to cats, peanuts and house dust. You have a freckle right on your right hip, under your navel, from under your left eye over to the nose to the corner of your right eye. You like it when you are hold when you can‘t sleep but you hate showing affection in public. You were 13 when you started exy, because it gave you an escape, but you had to stop because the bruises from your mother‘s beating got to obvious. So you started getting into medicine. You borrowed every single book on medicine you could find and read it at night, always hidden from your mom. You had to have straight As or the beatings would be worse. Your mom did go out to have ice cream with you when it was especially bad. That‘s why you hate ice cream so much, especially vanillia because it was her favourite. Your secret hobby is skating. You feel free when you do it. You want to live at the coast, but not close to Cali, never back to Cali. You want Andrew to notice you and you hate how easily he let Neil in because obviously deserve it more and I get that. You tried drugs to escape, to see what was the appeal. Your uncle never helped you but he brainwashed you into believing he did. You grew up very religous and in an extraordinary homophobic household, you watched your cousin and only friend getting shipped away because he was different, not right, so you confinced yourself you were different. Heterosexual. When in reality you knew since you were 15 that you preferred guys. You liked girls as well. At least you thought but it‘s so much more complicated. Actually it isn‘t. You‘re asexual, you do however like the feeling of sex. You think the process is disgusting, but you still like the feeling. It has to be the right person though. It doesn‘t matter wether it‘s a boy or a girl or something else entierly, all that matters are the feelings the person makes you feel. It took you years to accept that you are not wrong, that you wouldn‘t have to go away like Nicky. You apologized to Nicky. You thought you had to be against their relationships, because that‘s what they made you believe. Old habits die hard. But you got over it and I am very proud of you. You sleep with a teddybear or with another person that cuddles you because the thought of being alone scares the living crap out of you. Your favourite flowers are sunflowers because yellow is a happy color. You hate sweets, you prefer salty snacks. You prefer coffee black, like your sould. You use sarcasm and humor as your coping mechanism. You stole my history books because you love history as well. You also love art but you don‘t think you are good enought to become an artist. You would love to work at Jean‘s studio but you are afraid to ask. You and Jean used to be friends but you cut him off and isolated yourself because your anxities and insecurities took over you again. Sometimes you have depressive episodes, in these you crave drugs more than normally. You want to stop it, you really do but somehow your brain tries to tell you you need it. You would love to have five dogs. An Irish Red Setter, an Irish Wolfhound, a poodle a big one though, a labrador and a golden retriever. You also want to adopt at least two kids. You don‘t want any child to go through what you had to go through or Andrew. So don‘t you dare tell me I never cared for you. Because I do. I listen when you tell me things. I remember every single time you came to me, black out drunk, crying and telling me you‘re worthless. Because every single time I wanted to tell you you aren‘t. You are a wonderful human being and I don‘t understand why I wasn‘t enough for you to stay but I will not let you tell me I never cared about you. Because that‘s some fucking bullshit“

Kevin didn‘t even notice the tears running down his cheeks. It‘s been a while since he was that emotional, since he let his walls down and dared to show emotions.

„You really did listen“, was all Aaron had to say.

„Why wasn‘t I enough for you?“, Kevin replied, voice thick of tears, Irish accent strong.

[doomarchives]

David Annandale’s The Harrowing Of Doom: An In-Depth Review

So, I was kindly offered an advance reviewer’s copy of The Harrowing of Doom by David Annandale for the Marvel Untold series, a new prose line revolving around Marvel’s villains. Although I’m not personally familiar, the author’s prior written work and academic scholarship indicated a strong background in fantasy, science fiction, as well as horror film and literature - all essential elements of Doom himself honestly, whether in his character, design, or formative influences. A promising start from the outset! 

To no one’s surprise, I was especially excited for this one. Doctor Doom is both my favorite Marvel character and area of nerdy comics expertise, and Annandale sounded like the perfect candidate to tackle him. 

The Harrowing of Doom centers around a conflict familiar to those who know the character. Taking place fifteen years after his ascension to the throne, Victor von Doom is still hellbent on rescuing the soul of his mother, Cynthia, trapped in hell by the demon Mephisto. His yearly attempts to save her have been fruitless thus far, but he believes he can really do it this time, enlisting the help of a new character, Maria von Helm, and some of his lesser known subjects (also new characters) to accomplish the task, by building a machine called The Harrower. The noble scheme is further complicated by the reappearance of Prince Rudolfo Fortunov, son of the monarch deposed and murdered by Doom years prior, who is equally determined to take back what he believes is his birthright by any means necessary. The novel is a relatively dense and detailed one, and as a true blue Doom enthusiast, I have a dense and detailed review to match.

The first thing that I personally take note of in any material involving Doom is the author’s perspective on the truth of Latveria’s “benevolent dictatorship.” It immediately speaks volumes about a writer’s perception of Doom’s accountability and sense of morality; it kind of ends up coloring his entire characterization. That being said, I was really pleased by the evenhandedness with which Annandale treats Doom’s Latveria and his influence upon his subjects. It slots in neatly with some of the greats, Lee & Kirby, Jonathan Hickman, Roger Stern, etc with the acknowledgement that Doom is indeed a despot with an iron fist and a will absolute, but one who cares for the wellbeing of his country. Through dialogue from his subjects like the skittish Father Grigori Zargo and diehard loyal Captain Kariana Verlak, the reader gets the sense that Doom’s rule may be the best leadership Latveria has ever known. (A brief aside: another great strength of The Harrowing of Doom that has to be mentioned is the fleshing out of these different original characters. Maria von Helm was a particularly welcome addition, as a close friend of Doom’s mother and a far more empathetic magic user compared to him.)

Verlak is openly married to Dr. Elsa Orloff, a trans woman and neurosurgeon of international renown. Both of them had experienced the Fortunov rule that predated Doom’s, with Orloff even having fled Fortunov’s Latveria when she first come out as transgender, in fear of his tyrannical rule and the dangerously transphobic legislature he enforced called “The Laws of the Person.” It is apparent that Doom exists in obvious juxtaposition to the prior ruler’s bigotry. Beyond the total erasure of all previous discrimination and state-enforced bigotry, he has Verlak appointed in a role of great prominence, gave Orloff the tools she needed to succeed in her field, and even shares an exchange with her where he remarks that he knows her from her publications in the Lancet Neurology and that he appreciates them for their “speculative” approach. In an excellent exchange between Father Zargo and the rebel Prince Fortunov, the priest, who is by far Doom’s number one fan, explains Doom’s mesmerizing hold on the populace and the benefits they reap from his rule, despite it being a despotic one:

“I’ll be explicit, all the same,” said Zargo. “Doom is a sun king, even more fully than Louis XIV ever was. Latveria is a world power. How? Because of Doom and only because of Doom. Latveria’s strength and its wealth come from his inventions. And the beams of his sun touch every citizen. Universal basic income, free healthcare, free schooling, free universities, free training to the highest level of your calling - all of these things flow from Doom.”

“Free?” Fortunov snarled.

“The price is obedience, yes,” said Zargo, “And yes, Doom is feared.” Zargo stopped himself from saying Vladimir was feared and hated. [...] “Even though Doom is feared, he also is Latveria in every sense that matters.”

What I really appreciated was the author’s ability to walk the tightrope of acknowledging how beneficial Doom is for the country and his protectiveness over his domain, whilst also acknowledging Doom’s intense paternalism that ultimately favors his own goals. Doom, as well-read comic fans would know, is heralded as one of Marvel’s master manipulators. It’s a great strength of this novel to see him exerting his willpower and the strength of his personality to manipulate and sometimes, fully overpower that of his subjects. Father Zargo is definitely the most profound victim of this, a man with ties to both the church and the occult. Through the novel, Doom insistently pushes him towards the latter, his priorities made clear in one sentence: “The work was what mattered. Zargo’s soul was not Doom’s concern.” An especially interesting scene occurs later in the novel. Without too much elaboration, Doom performs an experiment where he uses the old Latverian nobility as guinea pigs.  This was something I immensely liked, corroborating one of my own personal perceptions of Doom. It’s always made sense to me that Doom would continue to hold a certain amount of disdain for Latverian high society, even after he went from low class Romani boy to monarch himself. 

(“The Fantastic Origin of Doctor Doom,” Fantastic Four Annual #2.)

Afterwards his partner, Maria von Helm, muses aloud that she always wondered why Doom let vestiges of the old regime remain, to which Doom responds: “Now you know. The aristocracy has its uses, and the advantages of being disposable.” It’s maybe my favorite example in the book of the exceptions to Doom’s purported benevolence. He does want the country to flourish and for his subjects to prosper, but this intent can be superseded by his innately ambitious nature and his own personal biases. It’s clear at several points in the book that Annandale is obviously well-read on Doom himself, but it was especially in the capturing of this nuance that it really stuck out to me in a big way. (As well as the fun reference to Doom’s brief jaunt in the French Riviera in Supervillain Team-Up!)

Outside of this core aspect of his characterization, I really enjoyed how the novel not only built up Doom’s cult of personality, but emphasized the sheer magnetism of Doom himself, in person. Constantly, characters find themselves buffeted by strength of his will, craving his approval or cowering and scrambling to avoid his displeasure. It’s a great true-to-character depiction of interactions between Doom and Latverian citizens, dynamics that were only touched upon briefly in the periphery of most comics involving Doom. I think, ironically, this is also perhaps the source of one of the novel’s few weaknesses. By keeping the book very Latveria-focused, Annandale does an excellent job of adding world-building on every level, from expounding on Latverian national holidays to the layouts of Doomstadt to the country’s storied history with witches predating Doom and his mother. But the fact that Doom mostly interacts with those beneath him or those who work for him gives the reader a bit of a myopic, overtly flattering perspective of him as almost too certain, too powerful, too unfeeling. I suppose it serves the scope of the novel for Doom to be more an obelisk of a man than fully well-rounded, but I contest that one of the best things about his character is that his indomitable exterior hides a deep well of pain and uncertainty. 

(“In The Clutches of Doctor Doom,” Fantastic Four #17.)

(“Oath of Fealty,” Doctor Doom #7.)

The novel obviously perceives Doom as Byronic, there’s even excerpts from Manfred interspersed between chapters that I greatly enjoyed, but I did find the heart of the Byronic character a little lacking here. Where Manfred bares his soul alone in monologue or to others, Doom, for the most part, does not. There are definitely brief allusions to the trials he’s faced, but he seems rarely prone to doubt or vulnerability until the very end. (For example, the central task is the attempt to rescue Cynthia von Doom’s soul, but little time is spent dwelling on this very human connection between mother and son.) Or even self-admitted imperfection! Interestingly, I only ever caught one mention of his scars in the entire novel. 

The Harrowing of Doom seems to prescribe to the line of thought that the mask is the only true face of Doom’s that matters, but I think with that philosophy, it stays firmly within the character’s own comfort zone. And his psyche never feels truly challenged, because there’s no worthy challenger. Doom knows without a doubt that he is Fortunov’s superior, so there’s no real interpersonal friction there. It left me keenly interested in seeing how the author would write Doom in the presence of someone like Reed Richards, an opponent who has historically brought out Doom’s baser instincts and invoked his self-doubt, drawing out his flaws and humanity in the process. Hopefully Marvel approves a sequel!

Doubtlessly, it’s still a strong entry into Marvel’s Doom canon and an excellent read for anyone who enjoys the character and is familiar with his history. The novel gives a sprawling, detailed look at Latveria and fleshes out both country and countrymen with aplomb. I took real delight at the indirect peeks at Doom’s personality through other characters’s observations or simple exposition. Some notable examples include Doom’s occult librarian wondering if he had been appointed out of spite of his witch-hunter ancestry, Zargo noting the west wing of Werner Academy was dedicated to clinical research in a nod to Werner von Doom’s work as a healer, and my favorite: the paintings within Castle Doom being impressionistic depictions of Doom’s ancestors, “people long buried, long forgotten, and in their lifetimes ignored or worse.”  

The conflict also moves at an engaging, brisk pace and smartly takes advantage of the widely known fact that Doom is preoccupied every Midsummer Night and turns that into an opening to be exploited by Fortunov, who also is well characterized throughout the novel and even experiences his own personal growth.

(“Though Some Call It Magic!”, Astonishing Tales #8)

Essentially, the product is a great novel about Doctor Doom influenced by strong comic lore knowledge, Gothic and Romance literature, horror cinema (According to the author, Doom’s lab is modeled after the lab from The Bride of Frankenstein!), and fantasy. If that sounds like something up your alley, definitely check it out. It gets a wholehearted recommendation from me. 

About Marvel Entertainment

Marvel Entertainment, LLC, a wholly-owned subsidiary of The Walt Disney Company, is one of the world’s most prominent character-based entertainment companies, built on a proven library of more than 8,000 characters featured in a variety of media for over eighty years. Marvel utilizes its character franchises in entertainment, licensing, publishing, games, and digital media.

For more information visit marvel.com. © 2020 MARVEL

[woodchoc-magnum]

911:Lone Star 2x06 Hate Watch

I finally watched it! Just in time for tomorrow’s boring ass episode.

Also I typed this as I was watching it so it is literally my stream of consciousness during the episode, apologies in advance.

Eddie to cleanse:

Disclaimer: I hate this show, if you love this show, that’s cool! You do you boo

Hate under the cut:

CONJOINED TWINS

This show is SO GROSS

They're not that close, wow

I mean yeah I would get so fucking sick of having someone attached to my head for sure

This show is the grossest

Naw they're friends again

Aw baby TK is learning how to drive the big boy truck what a good widdle boy

EXCUSE ME how did the guy in OG 911 drive the fire truck if it's this hard to start one?!

"Mom and Dad are having a BABY and they're ANCIENT"

I’m just throwing it out there, this baby ain't gonna be born

Judd is the best

They have to do laundry; why have I never considered this before?

Omg I have seen the lady who plays Paul's mother in so many things!

Oh the sister is straight up transphobic isn't she

I never met a Naomi I liked, just saying

(apologies to any Naomi's on my Tumblr, I'm sure you're great)

Are they going on a road trip in the middle of a pandemic?

Oh wait the pandemic doesn't exist in Lone Star does it

They do know they can't drive to the South Pole right, like you can't actually drive from Central America to South America

Oh no they have to replace zombie Tim

I miss zombie Tim

Remember when Tim got absolutely fucking annihilated by the lava rock that was so funny

The lady in the red sweater is Carla Gallo, she has been in a shit ton of things – but I will always remember her from Carnivale

Omg she headbutted that dude, they should hire her

Ooh potential new paramedic is hot but in a serial killer way?

In that he kinda looks like a serial killer

Some people have serial killer face I don't make the rules

Speaking of serial killer face, here's TK

"I am going to be a father" BITCH

YOU ARE ALREADY A FATHER

YOUR SON IS LITERALLY SITTING RIGHT THERE\

I mean I hate them both BUT STILL

Naomi says Texas is a little dull for her – that's just the Lone Star filter

Yo I watch these YouTubers and they have videos in Texas and there's like, no brown filter? And the sky is blue? But I thought the sky in Texas was blue with a layer of brown over the top?!

Oh biiiitch "you of all people do not get to play the gender card" BITCH

What's your fucking problem Naomi

Uh oh, oh no

Now they're making me feel bad for her

Rob Lowe "he's been a little chilly"

NO I WONDER WHY

GEE

WHAT COULD HE POSSIBLY BE UPSET ABOUT ROB LOWE

Cyanide poisoning

Did the new paramedic… give her the cyanide? No okay it was the flowers, still I am suspicious

See we've got this scene with these two kids and if you'll notice, they're standing outside with a blue sky above them – now my YouTubers tell me that the Texan sky is blue, not a shitty shade of brown

And honestly I’m inclined to trust my YouTubers, they seem like nice people

WHAT IS THE TRUTH

Oh no are these two kids gonna get shot

THEY'RE IN A MINEFIELD????

WHAT

THE

ACTUAL

FUCK

Is the guy with the gun gonna get blown up

PLEASE

PLEASE

PLEASE

PLEASE

YESSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YES

YES

YES

THAT WAS GREAT

10/10 BRILLIANT

HAHAHAHAHA I WILL NEVER STOP LAUGHING

Why is Rob Lowe going into a minefield?

Oh this paramedic doesn't want to walk into a minefield wooow what a LOSER

I mean… I also wouldn't walk into a minefield

OH HERE'S TK

"I can do this" he says blandly

I hope TK blows up

How the actual fuck are they going to do this

What I love is that everyone else just stands around and watches them, no masks, no social distancing

Because there's no pandemic

Literally NO ONE IS WEARING A MASK

I'd really like Rob Lowe to get blown up

Disappointed that Rob Lowe and TK did not get blown up

Wow TK what a hero

This week in 911: Rob Lowe, Rob Lowe navigates a literal minefield!

Serial killer paramedic is gonna quit

Wow they know about union reps in Austin (that was just a little OG lawsuit-arc burn there)

"A cowboy culture" okay dude

The dude you replaced DID get hit by a lava bomb, it was great

Oh his name is Pearce, why am I only just learning this now

Is Carlos in this show anymore or no?

Oh wow he goes to the hospital and he's WEARING A MASK

The sister has MS???

Someone should have told him

Okay we don't need to compete with each other's traumas now

Wow she got over the transphobia quickly

I mean can he have a storyline that isn't about transphobia

Wow TK is applying to be a paramedic WHO DIDN'T SEE THAT COMING

PLOT. TWIST.

TK is getting even with Dad BY NOT WORKING WITH HIM ANYMORE that'll show you Dad

No Carlos?

No?

K.

Ooooooh Rob Lowe is a petty bitch

"Want to tell me what's going on with you?" "Well Dad you kinda act like me being your son doesn't fucking matter so that's why"

"TK is this really what you want?" yeah I get him not wanting to work with you

"Emotional reaction" TK has emotions?

This guy can't act

Someone needs to tell him that he can't act

"I don't think it's weird you're having another kid at your age" MATE I THINK IT'S WEIRD

HELLO I THINK IT'S WEIRD

Ugh god this is supposed to be emotional isn't it

Let's face it, this baby ain't gonna live

And if it does live I'll be shocked

It's nice that Paul's mother is so accepting of him though, she's so great. I pretty much love this actress anytime I see her in something

Oh they're having a boy wooow

That baby ain't gonna live

UGH "hey little brother I'll see you soon" I AM ROLLING MY EYES FOREVER

Overall verdict:

2/10 BUT a dude did blow up in a minefield and it was great so + 1000 for that makes it 1002/10, specifically - AND ONLY - for that one scene where that dude blew up

Diaz to CLEANSE THE SOUL:

[thealphabetmurders]

Champagne for My Real Friends, Real Pain for My Sham Friends

2.9k words | AO3 Link | warnings: hurt/comfort, alcohol, drink spiking (nothing bad, Remus wants to spike the punch at Prom), implied/referenced underage drinking, crying, self hatred, self-esteem issues, mentions of surgery.

Roman went to his senior prom by himself, depressed and lonely. Janus shows up and Roman is certainly is not going to leave alone.

(Roman wants people to love him, Janus comforts him and helps him realize there is only one person who he needs love from)

***

Roman tugged off his bowtie, hastily shoving it in his pocket and collapsed on the pavement next to his car, hitting his head against the metal as he fought back hot tears, still very aware that he was in public. He felt stupid, so incredibly stupid. Roman should have known that going to prom was a bad idea. Well, more like, going to Prom alone was a bad idea. 

Roman went as a 7th wheel with a group of theater kids he didn’t know too well, it becoming increasingly more obvious that they wanted him there mainly to take pictures (partially out of pity too, he’s sure). He felt happy for his friends during pictures, he was okay with paying for himself for dinner, he had to get his own punch and cake but that’s okay, but when the slow songs started playing and people paired off, Roman just couldn’t do it. Watching idly by as the music slowed and the couples looked at each other with love in their eyes… God it sucks. 

Clicking open his phone, wincing slightly at the bright screen, Roman estimated he had at least 15 minutes before he was found out and a member of his Prom group would attempt to come find him outside- outside alone. 

He was a pretty good actor, he would simply act like nothing was wrong, and just went out to his car to put his suit jacket in the backseat because it was getting hot. Despite the venue in question being freezing, it is not as though anyone would question him. Why would they care? Roman came to Prom alone, and he expects anyone to care about his well being? This is supposed to be the best and most romantic night of his high school career. Roman should be happy for his friends that they are happy!... And yet, here he was. 

The red jacket was tugged off and haphazardly thrown in the back seat of his car. He rolled up the sleeves of his black dress shirt, Roman was getting a bit warm in the spring weather. He sighed deeply, stretching his back and shoulders when he felt it: He touched his chest and saw 2 small black buttons had popped off of his shirt. Now, even if he wanted to put on his tie again, he couldn’t, and he didn’t have a sewing kit to put the buttons back on. 

Roman looked on the ground near his shoe and saw the offending piece of plastic, picking it up with shaky hands. He looked at the object, ghosts of strings around the 4 holes and he felt the dam break. 

Clutching the button so hard it hurt, he threw it across the parking lot, before collapsing on the trunk of his car, sobbing to himself. The warm metal felt nice against his bare forearms, though it was something he barely noticed, the tightness in his chest and throat being the only sensations he could focus on at the moment. 

Roman’s headache from the dehydration and the string of evil thoughts only grew plaguing his mind. Horrible thoughts swirled his consciousness, whispers to himself about how he would never find love and everyone around him was simply pretending to like him. He would never be good enough for anyone. Not a romantic partner, not his family, not his friends, and certainly not himself. 

After a good, long few minutes, the tears and sobs began to peter out. Though the corners of his eyes still felt moisture, no actual tears would fall. He stood up straight, rubbing his eyes and taking a couple calming breaths, hoping to turn his erratic breath back to normal. 

Roman felt himself calm down, that was until a voice appeared behind him. 

“I am guessing this is yours?” Roman nearly jumped out of his own skin, yelping, when he realised that there was someone standing behind him. 

The older man was standing there, definitely not dressed for Senior Prom, holding a small black object between his fingers. Janus smiled and tossed the button over to an unprepared Roman, who barely caught the offending piece of plastic. 

“H-how long have you been standing there?” Roman swallowed thickly. 

Janus’s face shifted into something Roman could not decipher, his gaze shifting away, “What answer do you want me to give you?” 

Roman inhaled deeply, biting his lip and feeling that tightness in his throat again, but refused to give in this time. “What are you doing here?” Opting to switch topics entirely rather than answer. 

Janus sighed, reaching for the bag that was casually slung over his shoulder, “Your brother texted me, saying he wanted me to bring vodka,”

Roman frowned, “Remus? Remus told me he didn’t want to come,”

“That is what he told me he told you as well, yes, but in the last hour or so he changed his mind. He said he only wanted to go so he could spike the punch,” He lifted the alcohol so Roman could barely see it, “I was happy to take him up on that. I also brought some bubbly for myself,” Janus peeked out another bottle, this one a corked one of champagne. 

Rolling his eyes, Roman gave Janus a pointed look, “Why exactly are you indulging Remus’ ideas?” 

Janus shrugged, “It happened at my Prom,” 

“By you?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Janus smirked, chuckling slightly “I told my whole class that if they nominated me for Prom King that I would spike the punch. Guess who won and got wasted on Prom night?” 

Roman shook his head, smiling slightly, “I am sure the transphobes loved that,” 

Janus bit his lip, stifling a laugh that a part of Roman longed to hear, “Standing up on stage as the Prom King is almost on the same level as my top surgery in terms of absolute gender euphoria,” 

Roman nodded, his mouth smiling but his chest and head still ached, the corner of his eyes still burning, “Well, you should go meet Remus, I am sure he is most likely waiting for you by now,” 

Janus’ expression shifted from playful to concern and Roman cursed internally, “Roman, you are a fool if you believe I am just going to leave you out here alone,” Janus strode up to him and leaned against the car with him, arms and shoulders pressed up against one another, “You thinking I am going to simply ignore the fact that you were in hysterics not two minutes ago, makes me worry that you think I am an actual villain,” 

Roman didn’t say anything, he just looked down at his shoes, then glancing again at his shirt with the two buttons missing. He pulled at the strings left behind, littering them onto the pavement.

“Look, you do not have to talk about it. But, I do believe it would be beneficial to air out your problems,” Janus spoke cooly, looking up at the stars in the night sky. Roman looked at him from the corner of his eyes. His eyes trailed over his black curls, passing his eyebrow scar, and down to his long legs, one kicked up against the car, “Again, say something or don’t, but this is the last time I am going to bring it up,” 

Roman knew that if he simply said ‘Janus, I do not want to talk about this’, then the older man would drop it in an instant. However, he somehow couldn’t bring himself to lie in front of him, because he wanted nothing more than to spill his heart out to him. He never had anymore who seemed to care before. There was Remus, of course, but Roman always felt as though he had to protect his twin from himself, so he was the sounding board- he was the listener. Roman couldn’t have his own problems with Remus was already dealing with so much. Roman doesn’t have any friends he trusts to listen to his insecurities, even if he did, why would they care? He’s a bit lonely and doesn’t like the way he looks, so what? In the grand scheme of things, that doesn’t matter. When it comes to Roman, nothing matters. 

“Okay, so you don’t want to talk, that’s fine, but-” 

“I don’t think I am good enough,” Roman interrupted. 

When Janus realised there was no follow up, he nodded, “Good enough at what?” 

Roman chuckled weakly, “Where to start? I am not that good of a student, there are far superior singers than I, I don’t have the picture perfect blue eyed blonde hair appearance that everyone so classically loves, I do not exactly have any skills that no one can do better, and I also am loud and eccentric and awful. That is never going to change. No matter what I do, or who I pretend to be, everyone is always going to hate me and they are absolutely right to,”

Roman sniffled, and Janus noticed the way his voice got more choked up as he continued his tirade. There was only silence for a while, before Janus sighed, finally looking over at him. Roman made eye contact, feeling slightly dizzy and nervous looking into Janus’ deep brown eyes. 

Janus looked down, a redness that was only noticeable thanks to the street lights covered his cheeks. He stayed silent for a few moments before speaking, “I am not going to stand here and tell you all the things that I like about you, and why everything you just said is untrue. I am sure that you would just think I am lying to you anyway,” Roman winced at the words and looked down, the rhythms of his breathing starting to eradicate, “Hey, stay with me,” Janus pleaded, grabbing Roman wrist, and he looked up again, “I am not going to pretend to know what everyone thinks of you. I am sure there are plenty of people who do hate, more than you think,” 

Roman frowned, “Uh, than-” 

“Do please continue to interrupt me Roman, I will definitely reach my point faster that way,” Janus shook his head, and continued, “I am sure there are plenty of people who dislike you. There are plenty of people who dislike me too. I have hurt and lied and manipulated people. I am better now, but it doesn’t change the fact that those people will never like me. Knowing that, let me ask you this: does having many people hate me make me any less worthy of the life I am living?” 

Roman swallowed, “Well, no-” 

“Does me making mistakes in my past negate any progress I make in the future?” 

“No,” 

“Do I deserve to die, or experience pain because there are people who exist that dislike me?” 

“Obviously not, Janus, what-” 

Janus cut him off once again, “So, tell me Roman, why are you the exception? What exactly makes you so special that you think you are the only one who deserves the pain they are getting because, what, idiots in your Tech Theater class don’t like you?” 

Roman sighed, removing Janus’ grip of his wrist and running a hand through his hair, “I don’t think I deserve to get hurt or die because of that, it’s not that bad, I just…” Roman growled, frustrated, and hit the door of his car with the palm of his hand, “I have nothing to offer anyone!” He shouted, heartbroken, “Nothing to give. Anything I can do, I can think of 5 other people who could do it better. It’s not that I don’t deserve to live, it is just that I am unneeded and unwanted,” 

Clawing at his face, Roman felt the tears creep up again and wanted to shout and wanted to run away. He was so angry at himself and at his friends at and stupid kind and beautiful Janus. 

Roman turned away, still fighting off the tears, but Janus harshly grabbed his shoulder, turning him around, before using the collar of his shirt to pull him into a firm, comforting hug. Roman opened his mouth to speak, but Janus beat him to it, “I’m sorry. You don’t have to hide. I am here for you. I will stay out here as long as I have to. I am here for you,” He threaded his fingers through Roman’s hair, “I promise,” 

Roman’s will broke as he gripped the back of Janus’ flannel, sobbing into his shoulder once again, holding onto Janus so tightly he was afraid he would break the other man. Janus said nothing, simply letting Roman cry, rubbing his thumb on his back with one hand and running his hands through the locks of the younger’s hair with the other. 

“I apologise if what I said made things worse, that was not my intention in any way,” Janus said, guilt present in his voice. 

Roman shook his head sniffling, his voice hoarse and broken, “I know, don’t apologise. What you said was right. I just wish I had a little more, y’know, worth to people,”

There was a beat, and Janus spoke up after a while, “Can I ask you something, Roman?” 

The sobs had become less frequent, being replaced with silent tears and sniffles, “Okay,” He responded. 

Janus pulled back from their embrace, but still holding onto Roman, arms around his waist, “Why do you feel the need to judge your self worth based upon your output to others?” 

Frowning, Roman looked at Janus, “You sound like school, I don’t understand what you are saying,” 

“You seem to judge yourself based upon what you can do for other people,” Janus said, stepping closer to Roman. Roman arms went around Janus’ shoulders, their chests almost flushed against one another, “You keep saying that ‘people can do things better than me’ and ‘no one needs me’ and that you’re unattractive, all untrue statements, for the record, what about the things you do for yourself?” 

Roman swayed slightly, Janus following his movements, “I do not do anything for myself, I do not like myself enough to do so,” 

Janus chuckled, now moving his feet to lead the two around, ever so slightly, “Oh? Well, I certainly believe you,” 

“I don’t,” 

Janus gave Roman a pointed look, “You don’t dress yourself the way you do for yourself? You don’t style your hair or use the nice smelling shampoo or body wash for yourself? The music that you listen to while you exercise or in the car alone, who is that for other than you?” Roman stayed silent, letting Janus lead him in their dance and conversation, “You eat the food you want for yourself. You watch the movies and shows you want for yourself. You picked a red suit for Prom because red is your favorite color, you did it all for you. You live so much of your life simply for you, so why do you believe that you need to perform for others to have self worth?” 

Roman parted his lips slightly, looking at Janus. Janus let go of his waist, and then grabbed Roman’s hand to twirl him around, pulling him closer into his arms after the fact. The other man looked into Roman’s honey brown eyes, feeling very exposed, but also never more cared for, “You are going to spend your whole life with one person: yourself. In the end, it matters less what you can do for others, and more about what you should do for yourself. Roman, you need to fall in love with who you are, because there is so much about you to love,” Janus gently cupped his cheek, and Roman felt as though he could barely breathe. 

A few minutes of silence went by, Roman resting his head on Janus’ shoulder as they slow danced in the parking lot. No people around to impress. No music to follow the beat. This is just for them. Janus spoke up after a while.  “How are you feeling?” 

Biting his lip, Roman sighed, and he couldn’t fight the small smile that was on his face, “You, uh, you’re really good at this Janus,” 

Janus smiled softly, “It is unfortunately from experience, but I am getting better,” The older man took one of Roman’s hands and kissed his knuckles. Using that same hand, Janus pulled Roman in and softly kissed him on the cheek, the other almost melting under his touch. 

“What do you say, my prince? Shall we go inside? Perhaps have a proper dance?” Janus smirked, but not letting go Roman hand. 

“Are you even allowed inside? You graduated,” 

Janus shrugged, “Probably not, I am also most likely not supposed to give your brother vodka so he can spike the punch, so,” 

Roman couldn’t fight the smile and playful giggles that were now escaping his lips, “Self love is illegally sneaking in the former Prom King to your dance and spiking the punch for your awful classmate,” 

Janus kissed Roman’s cheek once more, “Now you are getting it, my prince,” 

The two walked hand and hand to meet up with Remus outside, his twin (also not dressed for Prom) wiggled his eyebrows and smirked, to which Roman put him in a headlock and tickled him till he couldn’t breathe. 

Roman distracted the supervisor as they snuck in the alcohol and spiked the punch, giggling and laughing the whole time. He didn’t look for the group he came with, they didn’t seem too concerned about his whereabouts anyway. That’s fine, he liked hanging out with Remus and Janus better anyway, comforted with the knowledge that they love him for him. And when his favorite song played while the two were in the bathroom, well, he danced wildly in the middle of the stage by himself, not needing to impress anyone, and having fun on that night for no one else but himself. 

[imaginejamesandsirius]

hey! so, i love your work, literally im in love with your stories, i think I've read them all like 7 times. I don't know if you are ok with trans characters, but trans sirius comming out to james, (they are already dating) and james being kinda confused at first becouse, how is the relationship supposed to keep going? and at the end he is ok with it, angs and fluff please:))) sorry if i had any mistakes, English is not my first language:)

((A/N: Warning for some transphobia!!! James is trying his best but has a reaction that’s kind of transphobic because he’s never dated anyone that’s trans. He works through it during the fic, but if that’s something that might bother you, you might want to consider skipping this one))

"So," Sirius said. 

"So," James echoed. They'd agreed to talk about sex before trying anything. It sounded adult and healthy, and not like anything James had done before. Most of his relationships had started with sex. First time doing anything with a bloke had been because he sneaked out of school one night and found a queer pub. He'd been too young to be going, obviously, but he'd gotten his first kiss there. He hadn't been out to his parents by the time they passed, so his relationships had exclusively been late night encounters and illicit meetings-- not so illicit the older he got, but it had never been open until he started dating Sirius. "I'm- I mean, I'm pretty much up for anything. I've never been really picky. I'm... ready whenever you are, basically." 

"Right." Sirius chewed on his lip a little, turning that over in his head. "I should- erm, I guess I should tell you that I'm. Erm. I'm trans. So. Y'know. There's some things I won't be comfortable doing. And er. I know that's a deal-breaker for some people. If it is for you, you should tell me now." 

James blinked. "Oh. Er. I don't- er." 

Sirius looked a little crestfallen but tried to cover it. "Yeah. I kind of expected that. It's fine. I should- I guess I'm going to go." 

He started to stand, but James stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Don't- I mean- I just." He clamped his mouth shut so he didn't keep stuttering. He took a deep breath. "Can I think about it? I've only ever dated... I mean, you're pretty much the first person I've ever dated. And I've only ever shagged- well, people with dicks, you know?" 

Sirius nodded. 

James dropped his hand, and Sirius straightened the rest of the way. "I just need some time to think about it." 

"I can give you a couple days, but James... I'm not going to wait around forever. Either you're alright with it or you're not." 

"A couple days is fine," James hurried to say. "That's all I'll need. Thank you." James stood and gave him a quick kiss and flash a smile that was weakly returned-- he didn't want for Sirius to think that he didn't like him anymore. "I'll call you, alright?" 

Sirius gave a small nod, then he left. 

James threw himself onto the couch. He couldn't do this by himself. He was an utter dumbarse; he knew this. He needed outside help. Remus was trans so he'd be able to see Sirius's point of view on this, but James didn't want to inflict this conversation on him. Remus had another shite to deal with without having to walk James through his insecurities. That left Peter. Peter was probably the better choice since he was the one dating Remus. James reached out and grabbed his phone. 

"Hello?" 

"Hey Pete. I need some advice." 

"You're asking me for advice? Bloody hell, the sky must be falling. Alright. What is it?" 

James opened his mouth to say 'so Sirius is trans and I could use some advice since I'm bollocks at this dating thing and am only good at sex but it turns out that what I know isn't going to help me any' only to stop cold. He couldn't tell Peter that Sirius was trans. There were rules about this sort of shite. "Nevermind." 

"Okay-?" 

James hung up on him. He'd apologise later. Who the hell was he going to talk to? He couldn't talk to anyone that had met Sirius, but he still needed someone he was close enough with that he could talk about this sort of thing with them. He scrolled through his contact list. Lily. Bloody hell, that's right; Lily was back in the country. She'd gone to the States for a few years to study, and they were supposed to meet up for tea this weekend to catch up before she went back. He didn't want to wait until the weekend to talk about this though, so he hit call. 

"Hey James. Canceling on me?" 

"I wouldn't dare. I was hoping for some advice, actually." That she wouldn't have a chance to meet Sirius before she left made this better, because it wouldn't be retroactive outing or summat. 

"From me? This should be good." 

"Well- maybe advice isn't the right word. Someone to talk to? See, I've started dating someone, and he's trans." 

"Alright. And?" 

"And now I'm worried about sex." 

"A vagina isn't a buggering goblin, Potter." 

James rolled his eyes. "I'm well aware, thank you." 

"Then what's the problem?" 

"I don't know how to... do anything with those parts. Comparatively, penises are much easier to understand." 

"I'm sure they are, but you like this bloke don't you?" 

"'Course I do. If I didn't, I wouldn't be worrying about this. Listen, Lils, I know this is kind of shitty. I like him and what he's got in his pants shouldn't effect that at all." 

"It shouldn't," Lily agreed. "Has it?" 

James frowned as he thought about it. "I don't think so." 

"Well you're not a total shit-head, that's a point in your direction. Listen mate, you're only going to work past this if you talk to your boyfriend about it. For all you know, he doesn't want you to touch him there, anyways. I can't give you catch-all advice for how to have sex with him because I don't know what he wants. Just- be honest. Open." 

"Tell him I need a fucking step-by-step for how to have sex?" 

"Yes," Lily said. Her tone was free of judgement. Straight and to the point. Yes, James needed to say that to him-- probably with those exact words. 

"That's embarrassing," James muttered. 

"How? It's not wrong to admit when you need help. Besides, it'll be less embarrassing for you to admit you don't know what you're doing than try to muddle through it and have someone get upset. Or hurt, depending on how badly you bugger up." 

"For fuck's sake, I'm not going to hurt him." 

"Maybe not intentionally, but if you don't talk to him, that might end up happening." 

"I hate it when you're right." 

"Do you? Me being right only helps you these days." 

"Yeah, yeah," James muttered. "Thanks for the help, Lils, I'll think about it." 

"Mmhmm." 

"I'll see you Saturday, yeah?" 

"Yep. Have a good time agonizing over this." 

"You're such an arse." 

"Yep," Lily said again. "You can agonize over that too, if it'll make you feel better. Good luck." 

They both hung up, and James sighed. He knew this wasn't going to be a problem. He knew he'd be able to get past it. The trouble was in getting his emotions to sort themselves out. He knew, with one hundred percent certainty, that in the end, this didn't really matter to him. But he couldn't get that through his fucking head. 

He didn't know what he was doing, here. He had no idea how to do normal relationships, and he'd thought that was as far as not-knowing-what-he-was-doing that he was going to get in this relationship. He'd figured that sex was going to be the part of this that he was actually good at. 

Fuck, that's what was tripping him up, wasn't it? It's not that Sirius was trans-- which, thank God, James didn't really want to be an asshole and Sirius definitely didn't deserve it from him-- it was that James had lost the only good thing he was bringing to this relationship. He couldn't guarantee Sirius a good time-- not at first, at least-- and now it felt like... nothing. It felt like he had nothing. Nothing to offer, nothing to give. Except for the mess of a person that he was, that is, but that wasn't exactly a high value. 

*

"I'm a mess," James said into his phone. He was laying down on the couch because it was easier to talk about the hard shit like that-- maybe those therapist couches had the right idea. 

"...Okay?" Sirius said. 

Yeah. Maybe not the best opening he'd ever had. "Wow, yeah, should've started differently. Sorry. Restarting," James declared. "Hi, Sirius, how are you?" 

"Fine?" 

"You don't sound too sure about that." 

"My boyfriend said he needed time to think about our relationship and then he calls me acting like maybe he's not alright. So... I am fine, but I'm not sure you are." 

James winced. He was buggering this up; was anyone surprised? "Right. Sorry. I'm fine, that's why I called. Or- I guess it would be more honest to say that I've realised I'm not fine but that's okay?" 

"...Er. Alright. How about you just say what you planned on and I'll figure out what you mean from there." 

"Right. So. Erm." He'd practiced saying this. Why did it have to be hard now? "You being trans? Totally not a problem. The er- problem is that I don't know what I'm doing." 

"Like in life?" 

"That too, but er, I was thinking more like with this relationship. I think I've told you before that you're the first person I've really dated." 

"Yeah, you mentioned." 

"Right, so when I figured out that I'm not going to be good at anything in this relationship, I sort of panicked. That's what that was. Also I told one of my friends you were trans because I needed advice, but she doesn't know who you are and you haven't met. I don't really know if that's alright or not but I wasn't getting anything done thinking on my own so I had to outsource- and wow now that I say it aloud that sounds really bad. I'm sorry." 

To his surprise, Sirius snorted, completely uncaring. "James, I'm glad you didn't out me unnecessarily, but you and your mates are pretty much the only people that don't know. When I told my parents, they sort of lost it and told... well, everyone in a fifty kilometre radius from our house. Believe me, you're fine. I was nervous about telling you because I was afraid you'd-. Well. Panic. Which you sort of did, but now it sounds like it wasn't about me." 

"It wasn't, rather. Do you know what it's like to have nothing to offer? I'm not used to filling that role." 

"I'm- I'm sorry," Sirius said, amusement filling his voice. "Did you just say that you have nothing to offer? Is that what you think is happening here?" 

"I mean. Yeah. I've met me. I'm a whole lot of fun to be around, but not good for the long term commitment shite." 

"Ooo is that where we're headed? Long term commitment? That sounds like it will be a beautiful disaster, between you and me. Mostly me. I find it absolutely hilarious that you think you are the only disaster in this relationship." 

"Hey, we're having an important relationship conversation over the phone because I was too bloody scared to have it in person. Clearly, I am the bigger disaster." 

"Oh James," Sirius sighed. "You have so much to learn." 

"Lily- oh, Lily, that's the friend that I called, you haven't met her because she's in the States most of the time these days-- she said I have to admit to you that you're going to have to teach me about sex since I wouldn't know what the hell I'm doing with you." 

"Always a good thing to admit beforehand," Sirius said, and it didn't sound like he was mocking James. Not that James had really thought that he would, but it had been a concern in the back of his head. "Don't worry about it, we'll go nice and slow. As much as I would love to hop right into bed with you, past encounters have taught me to be cautious." 

"That doesn't sound like fun." 

"It wasn't," Sirius said honestly. "But I'm sure we'll be fine." 

"I'm glad you're confident about this, because I'm sure as fuck not." 

"Stop being so bloody pessimistic." 

"Yes dear." 

Sirius laughed. "Usual date night alright?" 

"Sure. You want to go out or are we ordering take-away?" 

"That's a whole day away; I don't know why you would think that I know." 

"Flying by the seat of our pants, then?" 

"As usual," Sirius agreed. "See you tomorrow." 

[aro-ace-advice]

So I have mostly figured out the asexual part but it’s really complicated to me to figure out the romantic part, like I don’t know if what I think that were crushes were indeed crushes or that’s what I would like to think. It gets a loooot more difficult because I am a hopeless romantic and I LOVE reading fluff stories and they make me want a romantic relationship, that “want” only lasts for a few minutes (or it’s only that moment and then I move on). I had only one boyfriend (I’m 18 btw) when I was 9yo and our “relationship” ended when we were 12 I think? I wouldn’t call it a relationship because we barely talked to each other (I was shy around him) and I only gave him a peck because we were playing a game with my classmates, also I thought that it was the best when he was away of me¿? Idk. Also when I was older I had like only two (or one) crushes in boys that I didn’t meet and maybe other five (less than 5 but I love lying to me, sorry) in people that I met but I didn’t want a romantic relationship with them, maybe I thought that I would like to date them but if we didn’t that was okay too. But I never had a physical response to crushes, like you are supposed to feel butterflies in your stomach and all of that right? I only thought about two of them randomly and that I would date them but I never did sth to date them. Also I would avoid dating with sb because I was reaaaally busy with school (I literally slept when I was free and saw my friends rarely out of school so that was a excuse) and if sb said that they were interested in me I would literally run away, like I would be like “whyyyy, why did I do to caught your attention??? stop liking me please” then I would crave for affection and cry because I wanted a partner to cuddle lol. I may use the greyromantic term because I think that I may have felt romantic attraction but I am not sure if I have felt it or not.

It would really help me to talk with someone on the aromantic spectrum to figure out about this. Lastly, English isn’t my first language so that would be the why sth isn’t well explained here, thanks<3

ree says: hi there :) don’t worry about your english, you explained everything just fine! gosh, i totally understand how you feel! the romantic aspect of sexuality is SO CONFUSING. i also really love romances in tv and books and fanfiction and felt that want for a romantic relationship, so much so that i bounced from straight to bi to pan to lesbian before i was even willing to consider aromantic. i was always like “but i can’t be aro, i want to be in a romantic relationship!!” which isn’t exactly how it works.

i think part of the problem that makes it so hard for some people like you and i to find a label and define our own feelings towards romance is heteronormativity, which is essentially the idea that being cishet and wanting romantic / sexual intimacy is the only way to be.

for anyone reading this who hasn’t heard of this term and isn’t sure quite what i’m talking about, take the nuclear family as an example. so much of society (western in particular) is based around the general idea that a family consists primarily, if not completely, of a cisgender man and a cisgender woman and their eventual kids, and occasionally a grandparent if they’re feeling quirky (which is dumb. a family can be any group of people, blood-related or not). we’re taught by society basically from birth that couples are The Most Important Thing Ever and if you don’t wanna end up Alone, you need to find someone of the opposite gender to fall in love with Or Else!!

this can be extremely alienating if you fit into any category besides cishet, or even if you’re just not that keen on that kind of partnership. romance is such a central idea to so many societies that i think a lot of aro people have trouble identifying their lack of romantic feelings. like, we’re taught that a boy being mean to a girl in gradeschool is because he has a crush on her instead of him just being rude, and we’ve come to expect that when a man and a woman make eye contact for longer than 4 seconds on TV that they’re in love or at least attracted to each other. it’s everywhere. and it’s like, when romantic subtext is apparently in everything to some people, and they feel it all the time, we go “i guess i feel this thing, since everybody else seems to?” and it’s a little confusing, but we go along with it and just assume that it’s there since it seems to be so prevalent literally everywhere.

it took me 4 different romantic relationships to realize that i don’t like romantic things. i don’t want to be with someone romantically, i don’t like holding hands or cuddling or kissing or hanging out with people in situations with romantic subtext. i don’t want any of it and whether or not i would be okay with participating in those things depends entirely on who i would be doing it with. however, i do want to have a partner someday, someone to share my life with, who will hold me when i cry and give me a kiss on the cheek when they leave for work! i want to be someone’s most important person, without all that romantic stuff. but since the only intimate partnerships we see in most mainstream media where any of that happens is when a cis man and a cis woman fall in romantic love, it becomes clear fairly quickly to any queer person that what we want is Not Normal, and occasionally feels unattainable and impossible.

it’s also easy to get confused with what you really want when you don’t see any accurate examples of your own feelings around, which is why queer representation is so important. when the primary examples of intimacy you see are romantic, it’s understandable to assume that when you want someone who prioritizes you in a similar way, you’re wanting a romantic relationship, even if the romance aspect makes you feel uncomfortable, or when you really think about it or are offered the chance to be in a romantic relationship you don’t want to do it.

my point is, you can want the same things that happen in romantic relationships without ever feeling romantic feelings towards someone or wanting that dynamic. you can want a partnership without the romantic aspects. and it’s not unattainable or impossible, it just isn’t shown very often in media. humans existed for millennia before the concept of a nuclear family was born. we weren’t always queerphobic and transphobic. it is possible to find the kind of relationship you want with another person on your terms, no matter what those terms are, as long as you communicate with them about your needs!

tl;dr you can have or want intimate relationships with other people and still be aromantic or somewhere on the spectrum.

some additional info: i’ve seen some aro people use the term queerplatonic to describe the kind of relationship they want, and squishes to describe a non-romantic crush, or platonic attraction. i’ve never personally felt like they fit me, but they’re good terms and i’ll give ya some links to basic definitions of them and if they feel right to you, i would recommend continuing to look into them! link to queerplatonic (aromantics wiki) link to queerplatonic (lgbta wiki) link to platonic attraction (squishes)

as to the physical response to crushes– i’m aroace (have i mentioned that enough yet?), and i’ve never experienced it before either. i get like swoopy nerves when i’m around people i think are cool, and i used to think those were butterflies, but it feels really similar to how it feels when i get an intrusive thought or something gives me anxiety, so… take that how you will, i guess. ultimately i think being aromantic is more than just any physical responses you get to people, but every aro person is different, and how i feel about that sort of thing is definitely not necessarily how every aro person feels.

feel free to message again if you wanna talk more about aro stuff!! :)

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

We’ll Carry On - Chapter Fourteen

We’ll Carry On Tag

General Content Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Substance Abuse, Abandonment, Minor Character Death, Transphobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Dissociation, Bullying, Homophobia

April 16th, 2018

He tried his hardest to not cry, honest to goodness, he did. But Logan couldn’t help letting a few tears slip down his cheeks. It stung to have everyone sing Happy Birthday using Jessica, not Logan. It stung to have girly presents and dresses instead of wearing suits and ties. Jack knew what was going on, and he tried to keep Logan’s spirits up, but there was only so much even Jack could do.

So here Logan was, trying to muffle his crying. He was fifteen years old, dammit! He wasn’t supposed to cry over people using the wrong name when they didn’t even know any better.

As he finally, mercifully, fell asleep, he remembered with a happy smile how Jack had sung Happy Birthday using Logan, rather than Jessica, and his tears trailed off just enough for his breathing to even out as he finally slipped into the blissful nothing of unconsciousness.

February 15th, 2019

Logan thought he might pass out. He was sitting in the recently-acquired minivan that Mister Emile and Mister Remy had purchased since Patton and Virgil had turned up. They were heading to court, because today was the day that Mister Emile and Mister Remy were adopting him. There was no going back from this. If he did this now, his parents would never get him back...not that he wanted to be back there. Still, there was something inside him that made him feel weak at the knees because he thought about what would happen were his parents to change their minds. And this meant they couldn’t.

They pulled up to the courthouse and Logan held his breath. He was both elated and filled with dread because of this moment. He forced himself to keep moving, no matter what. If he stopped, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to move again.

Mister Emile and Mister Remy were talking quietly behind him, and Logan couldn’t focus on their conversation, too nervous about this new development. Well, maybe new development was the wrong term. He had known this was coming for a while, he had consented to it. But all of it seemed to become real today.

They went inside and walked down a series of corridors until they stopped outside a judge’s office. Logan was standing perfectly still, and Mister Remy put a hand on his shoulder as Mister Emile knocked on the door. On the other side, when the door was opened, were Sarah McGee the social worker, and a judge who was smiling kindly at the three of them. “Right on time,” the judge said. She laughed. “Are you three ready?”

Logan was nudged forward and Mister Remy and Mister Emile walked up to the desk with him. When Logan saw the documents, his eyes widened. “But that’s...” he couldn’t finish his sentence.

“We figured since we were changing your last name we may as well change your first one too while we were at it,” Mister Emile said softly. “Is that okay?”

Tears pricked Logan’s eyes and he nodded frantically. “Yes. Yes, please, yes.”

“Okay,” Mister Emile said with a smile. Sarah was beaming off to the side, and Mister Remy was looking very satisfied with himself. “Should we sign the papers?”

Logan nodded again and the judge, Mister Emile, and Mister Remy signed all the documents, Sarah signing as a witness. Logan watched everything with tears in his eyes. His sex was still female on the documents, but that was okay, that would allow him the possibility of insurance covering some of his transition for now. And besides, his name...his name wasn’t Jessica. As everything was signed, the judge smiled at him. “Congratulations, Logan.”

That was all it took for him to start breaking down and crying. Mister Emile and Mister Remy laughed as they asked if he was okay, and he nodded. He was far, far better than okay. No longer would he be known as Jessica Gaines. No, from this day forward he would be Logan Picani. That’s what it would say on his bank account. His passport. His license, when he got one. His deadname was well and truly dead. To the outside world, he could be Logan. And that was the best feeling in the world. He beamed, smile a little watery, but elated all the same.

“That didn’t take too long, did it?” Mister Emile asked, laughing. “Here I was worried it would take a while with the name change!”

Logan was still in shock, but he managed to choke out, “Did you plan that from the start?”

“Yeah,” Mister Remy said. “Emile suggested it. If we’re changing your last name, it’s easier to change your first name now rather than later. It was my idea to keep it as a surprise, though. As a little gift to you for joining our family.”

Logan cried some more, holding the back of his hand to his mouth as he smiled. “Thank you,” he choked out. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“The pleasure is all ours, Logan,” Mister Emile said with a smile. “Now all we have to do is send copies of your new birth certificate to the school, the bank you use, and maybe one or two other places, and you’ll be all set!”

Logan continued to smile and cry. “My report card. My report card is gonna have my actual name on it. I can’t believe it.”

Mister Remy laughed. “Of all the things for you to fixate on, that was not on my list of expected ones.”

Mister Emile nudged Mister Remy playfully. “Let the boy live a little, Rem,” Mister Emile said with a grin of his own.

“I never said it was a bad thing,” Mister Remy defended. “Just that it was unexpected.”

Logan laughed. “You’re good. Both of you. I’m not offended or any less happy.”

“Well, good,” Mister Emile said. “Are you ready to head into school a little later than usual?”

Logan nodded. He couldn't wait to tell Jack about this great news! He was adopted, and his legal name was Logan! This day couldn't get any better!

Well, yeah, it could. Because he could get a hug and a clap on the back from Jack, both of them beaming and laughing at the fact that transphobes were going to have to acknowledge his name now. That...that would be fun.

So he went to school, smiling all the way. It was lunchtime when he arrived, and he nearly ran head-first into Jack as he walked in the front door. “Logan! Man, where were you?! You haven’t been in school all morning, and you never miss a day of school!”

Logan just laughed, grinning so hard his face hurt. “I was in court,” he said.

Jack frowned. “Why would you be in court?”

“I’m adopted!” Logan exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “And my name changed! You’re not looking at Jessica Jordan Gaines, but Logan Avery Picani!”

Jack stared at him a moment, before he whispered, “Seriously?!”

“Seriously!” Logan exclaimed. “They changed my name, Jack! As a surprise gift for being adopted!”

Jack whooped and wrapped Logan in a crushing hug, which Logan eagerly returned. As predicted, when they broke apart Jack clapped him on the back, saying, “Congrats, man! I knew you’d get to have this day eventually!”

Logan grinned and sniffled a little, saying, “I wasn’t so sure,” his voice thick with emotion.

Jack rolled his eyes playfully and turned to the students eating lunch in the hallways. “Hey everyone, listen up!” Jack shouted.

“Jack!” Logan hissed, a startled laugh flying from his mouth.

“You’re looking at one Mister Logan Picani, everyone! If anyone calls him Jessica, they can answer not only to me, but Logan’s legal documents!”

“Jack, no,” Logan laughed, as a few students clapped and cheered, while others scrunched up their faces or sneered their way. Most of the students just looked very confused.

“Jack yes!” Jack retorted with a laugh. “Suck it up, Buttercup, you’re stuck with me!”

“Why are you still calling me Buttercup? I haven’t watched Powerpuff Girls in years!” Logan exclaimed.

“Because we both headcanon Buttercup as trans, and anyway, Buttercup rhymes with suck it up, so it works,” Jack explained smugly as they started to walk to their normal group of friends.

Logan shook his head. “That really shouldn’t be how you logic things out, Jack, but okay.”

“You logic one way, and I logic another,” Jack shrugged.

“But...but logic is universal! You can’t just ‘logic one way’ and then change how you do the same thing the next day! That’s...that’s illogical!”

Jack laughed and Logan frowned. “I love when you get passionate about stuff,” Jack said with a small grin. “Even if you’re trying to prove me wrong.”

“You are wrong,” Logan said.

“That’s the spirit!” Jack laughed.

Logan rolled his eyes but he couldn’t resist the small smile breaking on his face.

Their friends were sitting in front of the auditorium, as always, and one of the theater nerds in their group named Preston asked, “Jack, was that you yelling?”

“Yep!” Jack said proudly. “Did you hear what I said or just the shouting?”

“Just the shouting,” one of the girls, Leslie, piped up. “What’s going on?”

Jack grinned. “Logan got adopted, and they changed his name, legally, to Logan. His deadname isn’t connected to him anymore, at all!”

Logan turned red as all of his friends congratulated him and cheered and were generally excited about everything this entailed. When Jack and Logan sat down and started eating, Preston and Leslie started arguing over whether Dear Evan Hansen or Heathers was better, and Tristen, their person of ambiguous gender, suggested that Hamilton trumped them both, sparking a heated and yet playful debate over the merits of all three musicals.

Jack nudged Logan lightly. “Don’t you just love our friends?” he asked with a wide grin.

“Yeah,” Logan said softly, musing as he took a bite of his sandwich. “They never had to be as supportive as they have been, and yet here we are.”

“Some people are just decent human beings, man. Not everyone is looking for something in return for their kindness,” Jack replied.

Logan let out a shuddery breath. “That’s a scary thought, honestly,” he whispered. “Because that means my parents were wrong about so many different things they taught me.”

Jack wrapped an arm around Logan’s shoulders in a sideways hug. “We can tackle that another day, sound good?”

“Yeah,” Logan agreed. “Sounds good.”

And it did. He didn’t want to have to focus on the fact that his parents were wrong right now. He just wanted to be happy about his legal name, and his friends supporting him. He grinned as Tristen made a particularly good point about Hamilton and the story surrounding it, and Logan pointed out a few factual tidbits that most people didn’t know about the musical, and immediately he was getting interrogated about what else he knew about the musicals they were talking about.

Eventually, lunch ended, Logan went to his afternoon classes, and then he was getting a ride from Mister Emile back home. His leg bounced nervously as he sat in the passenger seat and stared out the window. He blew out a breath. “So much is going on recently,” he said softly. “It’s a lot to take in.”

Mister Emile sent him a glance. “It is,” he agreed. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Fine,” Logan agreed. “I’m just...nervous, I guess.”

“What about?” Mister Emile asked.

“Everything just became...real. That seems to be happening a lot lately. Abstract concepts like abandonment, and adulthood, and growing up are all becoming terrifyingly real, and I don’t know how to handle it.”

Mister Emile put a hand on Logan’s shoulder and Logan turned to look at him. “You have a point, Logan. Those things can be terrifying. But just know that you don’t have to do it alone, all right? Mister Remy, myself, your friends, even your brothers are all ready and willing to help you with whatever you need.”

Jack’s words from earlier came back to him: Not everyone is looking for something in return for their kindness. He supposed that applied to his new family. Which was terrifying, in a comforting way. He smiled and looked back out the window. “Yeah, I know. Thank you.”

“Of course,” Mister Emile said. “Let’s go tell your brothers the good news.”

When they got to the middle school and picked Roman up, he hopped in the back and grinned at Logan. “How’d the adoption go?” he asked.

“It went well,” Logan said with a smile. “Mister Emile and Mister Remy were kind enough to let me change my name.”

“What, to Picani? Yeah, that’s how adoption works,” Roman said.

Logan shook his head with a grin. “No, not to Picani. Well, yeah, they changed my last name, but they changed my first one, too. And my middle one, for that matter.”

Roman stared at him in shock before he laughed. “Hey, congrats, Lo! That’s gotta be a great feeling!”

“It is,” Logan agreed.

“Do the twins know yet?” Roman asked.

“Not yet,” Mister Emile said. “It was a surprise gift. So Logan gets to tell them the good news.”

“They’ll be ecstatic,” Roman said. “Be prepared for a lot of shrieking and yelling.”

Logan just laughed.

[klausesdiego]

the trial of my gender by maggie c.

below is the personal essay i wrote for my creative nonfiction class. it documents and talks about my struggle with accepting who i am and how i identify in terms of gender. please read the whole thing and be kind. 

I sat at my dining room table, in the middle of the night, watching YouTube videos about people documenting their gender transition. It was fascinating to me, much in the same way that an outside observer would see any scientific study or conduction. To me it was simply that; I was an outside force that was interested in learning more about this topic. For research purposes. I was in 8th grade, so my fascinations tended to fringe to the edges of what was normal. I loved British panel shows, documentaries about serial killers, and even How It’s Made videos. Basically, I watched a large variety of videos that a typical 13 year old wouldn’t think to even look up. And one day I stumbled across the genre of gender transition videos. I believe I was looking up hair dying tutorials because this was around the same time I started experimenting with my hair color; regardless, I ended up watching voice comparisons, post-op surgery reports, and just vlogs in general of people venting their gender concerns. It wasn’t then and there that I realized that being transgender was a thing. I knew of it before that moment. But it was at the moment, the dining room deathly quiet and dark as night except for the illumination of my computer screen that I began to question my own gender.

Gender dictates everything in life. Everywhere you go, even from a young age, you are determined your worth through gender. And maybe it’s not as clear and forthright as you may think I’m trying to convey it as, but a closer eye can see that nearly everything in life, is based on gender. From an early age, even preschool or kindergarten, you are divided by gender. They tell the boys to be a group and the girls to be a group. And at that young age it is ingrained in everyone’s brain that gender is a binary. Gender is male or female and there is no inbetween. It won’t be until high school,l at least, that people will learn that sometimes people fall outside of those binary lines. Maybe you were a male who dressed or acted a little too feminine for everyone’s liking. Maybe you were deemed a “tomboy” simply because you prefered board shorts to bikinis. But at the end of the day, the people around you will label you as a gender that is either male or female. And that isn’t the case. If gender is a binary code of 1’s and 0’s, then everything that doesn’t fit within that code is labeled “nonbinary”. Gender non-conforming, transgender, androgynous, agender, genderqueer whatever you want to call yourself, there are things that lie beyond that binary.

Even when I was young, I didn’t know where I was supposed to fall in the gender binary. I knew that because of how I was born that I was deemed female. Assigned female at birth. That’s what some people call it. But it didn’t really seemed assigned. It didn’t feel like a government assigned label, like a social security number. It truly felt like a piece of my identity. At least, partially. When I was a freshman in highschool I finally berated my mom to the point where she let me cut my hair short into what I called a “pixie” cut. I tried to find the most feminine word for it, hoping that it would sway her opinion. This was soon after I learned the wonders of gender transition videos and watching them soon became a daily habit. In the end I looked like Justin Bieber from 2009, but I didn’t care. I was in love with it. My face was too rounded, my lips were too full. But my hair seemed right, finally. When I was a sophomore in highschool I came out to my parents as transgender. I wrote the date down in my calendar but said calendar has long since seen the trash can after one too many times of me cleaning my bedroom out of anxiety-ridden panic. I told them I wish I was born a male. And the funniest part about that? I don’t even think they remember. Sure, we had a good cry and my mom hugged me, telling me she would love me no matter who or what I wanted to become, but after that night, we never spoke of it again. My parents kept leaving little hints here and there that I might be a lesbian, saying things like “whoever you decide to marry” or “your future significant other”, but they never mentioned my gender. I was always going to be their little girl. And for a while, only my closest friends knew about who I was.

For a graphic design class I took in college, we had to construct a poster series about a serious issue that we were concerned about. The professor used his personal example of heroine usage in York, Pennsylvania and shared stories about it affecting his life directly. At this point in my life I was pretty confident in being unconfident in my gender, so naturally, I gravitated towards transgender-related topics. I learned that every 4 days a person who is transgender gets murdered. I made the poster in the style of a calendar with a bouquet of flowers every 4 days with the flowers being the color scheme of the transgender flag. I thought it was somber but albeit fitting. Learning that terrible fact was a shock for me. I knew that people who were transgender were discriminated, harassed, assaulted, and killed. But at that rate? It made me scared for my life. I was glad, for once in my life, that I presented myself as my biological gender. It was my safety net. Plausible deniability.

Rewind to high school, sophomore year to be exact, I started going by a different name, a more masculine name, online in gender support groups. My closest friend to me, the only one who knew about this whole thing, asked me if I wanted her to refer to me as a boy. I told her it didn’t matter. It did matter to me though. I wanted to be referred to a boy but I didn’t want to go through the hoops of having to change everything about my outer life to simply appease the gnawing feeling inside of me. At night, I wished that I could just wake up one morning with a different body and a different background. It didn’t matter to me how or why, I just felt that all of my problems with who I was would be solved if I had been more biologically male.

One of my friends from middle school is transgender. He started transitioning in his freshman year of college and I followed his journey of finding himself through Instagram. He seems genuinely happy and I feel happy for him everytime I see one of his posts. A different friend of mine, from highschool this time, thought he was a lesbian at the time, and it wasn't until he graduated high school that he decided he wanted to transition to male and be who he truly was. Even at college now, I know of people who have found themselves and their gender through time and experience. They say that cancer affects everyone because everyone knows someone who has been a victim of it. But this works the same for the transgender community. Nearly everyone knows someone. And if they say don’t, then they probably know a closeted person.

For a few years after sophomore year, I decided to let my gender identity go to the back burner, after all I had more important things on my plate: college applications and getting my driver's license. It wasn’t until I was a freshman in college, going to my first meeting of the Gay Straight Alliance that I realized I could reinvent myself No one here knew who I was. So when it came time to say my name and pronouns, I said my birth name, a name I still hold very dear to my heart, and the pronouns “they/them”. It may look like dipping your toe in the water to some people, testing to see if it’s the perfect temperature, but to me it was like taking a running jump and going into a cannonball. I was out. No matter what I was. No matter what I identified as. I was not cisgender anymore.

The idea of cisgender became a hot debate online in forum posts all around. Some people saw the shortening of it to “cis” as a slur much to the way that transphobic people would call transgender people tr*nny’s. But, in reality, it was just a label that society had created to say that your birth gender matched up with the gender you identified as. Most people are cisgender and for a lot of people their knowledge ends just there. Maybe they don’t even know the term cisgender at all. Maybe they are blissfully unaware of the struggles that people go through everyday just by existing. Maybe they just don’t care.

My cousin came out as transgender in an odd way. Through Facebook. She just posted briefly that she had begun hormone replacement therapy. She was already known as the extreme left-wing of the family. She had moved out to California to pursue a degree in gender studies. We all assumed she was just gay, not that she was actually a she. My sister-in-law’s sister came out as transgender, deciding to transition in her late 30’s despite having a wife and daughter. It was then that I realized that being transgender, having a different idea of who you are than from when you were born, isn’t just a fad that people on the internet were adhering to. This was a real thing. I felt justified in that moment. And my feelings felt like they had some grounding for the first time in a while.

In the gender support groups online, I was still a pretty active member at this point, I started going by masculine pronouns instead, still keeping my name the feminine one I was given at birth. This raised a lot of questions as to why I wanted to keep my name, but ultimately it boiled down to the fact that my name didn’t bother me that much. In reality, it just seemed to bother other people more. Like they couldn’t imagine someone by the name of Jennifer being a male. But I knew that it didn’t matter what other people thought of me. I started wearing exclusively sports bras, trying to smother my chest as best as possible. I was on my way to becoming who I wanted to be.

A lot of people who are transgender call their birth names their “dead names”. They see it as exactly that. That other person is dead to society. They have reinvented themselves much like how a phoenix rises from the ashes. While I had experimented with other names, more masculine names, as stated above, I felt a deep connection with my birth name and I didn’t see myself changing it anytime soon. But then again, my reluctance to not change my name was not really based on my affections for said name. Rather, it was me, once again, not wanting to go through the hoops and hurdles of having to change my outer life so much to fit the way I saw myself inside. In my head I knew who I was. What did it matter that other people saw something different? At the end of the day I know that by the end of my gender journey if I decide to change my name, or at least go by a different name, I would be perfectly fine with that. But my birth name would always hold a dear part in my heart.

I came out to my parents as bisexual in an unusual way. It was actually before I went to college. We were on a road trip to visit one of the colleges I had been accepted to and we stopped at a Burger King for lunch. It was bisexual awareness day and so I posted something on Instagram about it. My mom turned to me, and just said, “So, bisexual, huh?” And it was left at that. You might have sensed a theme that my parents aren’t the best with continuing communication by now. I think, some strange part of me deep down inside of me knew, my parents were glad that in their eyes I wasn’t “fully gay”. There was still a chance I would settle down with a nice Christian boy and have 2.5 kids with a white picket fence. And there still is that chance. But there is also the chance that I find a nice girl and we settle down, opting for cats instead of children. I remember, years later, talking to my parents in my living room about weddings. My sister was getting married and I dropped the bomb casually that I may end up marrying a woman. My mother, my closest friend in the entire world, started crying at this. It left me shattered in a way that I haven’t fully recovered from. She told me she would always love me but that she didn’t know how she would feel if she had to have my father give me away to a woman instead of a man. I left to my room heartbroken and sobbed myself to sleep that night.

After I came out to my parents as transgender, I did a lot of research about hormone replacement therapy and how parents view their children who were transgender. I would sit on the bus on the way home from freshman year high school and Google terms like “what to do if my child is transgender” or “female to male teen transition”. I was trying to research what I imagined my parents would be researching. In reality, we know that they never mentioned again to me so for all I know, they never did any research. For all I know they erased that day of their lives out of their memory. For me, however, it will be forever ingrained in my memory. It was the first day I started being true to myself. I was truthful when I told my parents I was transgender. I was truthful when I told my parents I wish I would have been born a male. I just left out the part where I didn’t actually want to live my life as a male. Not fully. I was nonbinary. Genderqueer. Agender. Or even, all of the above.

My experience with gender isn’t anywhere over and I don’t see it being over anytime soon. As of right now, I identify as nonbinary, dancing in some weird abyss of not being female and not being male. I see it as more of a burden than an identity. The fact that I can’t pinpoint exactly who I am is frustrating, but a lot of people don’t see it in the same way. That’s the magic of it being a spectrum; there will be people who feel everything at every point in said spectrum. Some people out there will love being nonbinary and the freedom that it gives them. Most people don’t feel like me. Most people don’t see being nonbinary as a burden or something at fault. But for me, I hope to one day find myself and who I truly am, even if that is what I already know.

When I first cut my hair short freshman year of high school, someone asked me if I was gay. Gay, in today's terms, sort of means the same as queer. Anything other than the normal. Gay emcompasses anything revolving around the LGBT community for some people. I told them no. It felt like cutting a piece of myself out. One of the deadliest sins a Christian can commit is denying their Lord. When asked if you are a Christian, a Christian must respond yes, or else they sacrifice their ticket to their afterlife. To me, answering no felt like I was denying myself that ticket to the gay afterlife. If asked that same question today, I would look them in the eye, think of the LGBT heaven I was destined for, and say yes.

[mayjaymayjay]

Title: “You Will Never Be Loved”

Word Count: 6382

Summary: Roman is transgender. He found out later on in life after moving in with Damien (Deceit). After months of violent physical and emotional abuse, Damien is arrested for his crimes and Roman eventually moves on and becomes a strong independent young man. However, after a year has passed, Roman meets a very attractive professor and it throws a wrench into his world.

Pairings: Abusive Priceit/Decince, Later on Romantic Healthy Logince

Warnings: Physical and emotional abuse, implied sexual assault, implied self-harm/self-harm mention, gender dysphoria, self-deprecating thoughts, Deceit, transphobic language, female anatomy terms, cussing/swearing, lots of angst, surprise kissing, hugging, crying (I think that’s it, let me know if I need to add anything!)

“I’m sorry, you’re what?” Damien questioned darkly, causing slight hesitancy with the other person in the room. Rosalina had just walked into the room, after getting back from gender therapy. Damien was sitting on the couch in front of the television, but his focus was on his significant other, no longer the moving images on the screen.

“I’m… I’m transgender,” Rosalina said. “I was diagnosed with gender dysphoria. Something I’ve thought I had for years. I was supposed to be a boy and plan to transition.”

Damien went silent for a moment until his cold loud laugh rung out the whole room. “You honestly think that’s gonna work out for you, Rose?”

“I-I’m sorry?” This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. He thought that Damien would be understanding and kind. Damien said he loved him so much and they’ve been together for so long, why wouldn’t he at least listen?

“Rosalina, you’re a girl, get over it,” He reiterated, causing Rosalina’s skin to crawl. “You have a vagina, you have breasts, deal with it. Just because you don’t like it, doesn’t mean you have-”

“It’s not just that!” He snapped. “This thing cripples me and stops me from looking in a mirror, it stops me from enjoying sex, it makes me want to legitimately kill myself during that time of the month, and it made me hurt myself multiple times-”

“You hurt yourself, nothing caused it except you,” Damien stood up and towered above him. “The only thing that’s truly wrong with you is you’re delusional.”

“Fuck you-”

Damien slapped the other man’s face, causing him to fall to the hardwood floors. He crouched down and grabbed his face forcefully, making eye contact. Tears fell down Rosalina’s face. “I should just fuck you until you understand your place again.”

…

“Roman,” Virgil began as he continued driving down the street, quickly glancing over to the passenger side before setting his eyes back on the road. “I don’t mean to be nosy or anything, but you’ve been kinda… off lately.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, attempting to smile through his lie.

“For one, you are wearing long sleeves in the middle of June and you’re keeping your hair down despite the fact you would normally have it up or in a hat,” His eyebrows furrowed then relaxed. “I’m your best friend, Ro, if something is going on, you can tell me.”

“I don’t know, what to tell you,” the other man shrugged, causing himself to wince slightly at the sharp pain throughout his entire back.

The purple-haired man noticed this. He pulled over to the side of the road, turning his caution lights on. “Roman, I know this is a weird question but I just need to confirm something. Are you wearing a shirt under that sweater?”

“Yeah, a tank top,” he said hesitantly, worried about where this was heading. “Why do you ask?”

“Can you take off your sweater?”

Roman froze. He didn’t need this to happen. He didn’t need Virgil to worry more than he had to. He was fine. Sure, Damien hurt him a lot, but maybe he deserved it. Plus, he did it because he loved him and he would receive worse from someone else.

“I… I can’t… There’s nothing you need to confirm.” Well, that wasn’t convincing. Good job, Ro.

“Then you shouldn’t have a problem with wearing a short-sleeved shirt in front of me,” he faced his friend, concern burning in his eyes. “I just… I just need to know you’re okay, Ro. I know it’s really warm, so you can’t be comfortable.”

“I’m… I’m fine,” He leaned on the window.

“If nothing’s wrong then you can take your sweater off.”

Roman sat there for a moment before he quietly muttered a “fine” and took his sweater off, exposing all of his various scars, scratches, and bruises.

“Oh my god,” Virgil felt tears come to his eyes, but he blinked them away as he stared at his hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel. He took a deep breath. “Did Damien do this to you?”

He hesitated. “Please don’t hurt him.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” The other said through gritted teeth.

“You can’t!” The long-haired man cried.

“Then we’re going to the police then,” He declared, getting out his phone to the GPS app. “Have you showered within the last twenty-four hours?”

“No, but-”

“Then we’re going.” Virgil then put his phone down and drove back onto the road.

“Virge, that’s unnecessary!” Roman forced himself to chuckle a bit, trying to get rid of the tension. “I’m alive!”

“You’re not going to be if you let this continue,” he said firmly. “Why can’t you see that?”

“Because he loves me!”

“Roman, Patton and I love you and we don’t beat you. I get people to show love differently, but why would he intentionally harm you if he loved you?”

He thought about that for a moment. He thought about how Patton would hug him or give him kisses on the head to show his love. He thought about how Virgil would encourage him or comfort him to show affection. He then thought about how he would do things for everyone along with physical contact to express it. Damien didn’t do anything like that, he never did, except if he wanted something in return.

“I don’t know,” he muttered, staring at his twiddling thumbs.

…

“Members of the jury, have you reached a verdict?” The judge asked, her voice echoing throughout the silent room.

“Yes, your honor.” A young lady replied, her voice crisp and clear.

“What say you?”

The case had gone on for hours, it felt endless. From the time Roman broke down into tears at the stand with only his lawyer, Dr. Pecani, to comfort him, the time they showed multiple photos of Roman’s multiple injuries and x-rays for evidence, and the time they had Virgil and Patton testify as a witness to the abuse. Those were only a few of the occurrences in that courtroom could recall, besides all the threatening silent glares Damien gave him up to this moment. For a moment the world stopped, Roman forgot how to breathe. The whole courtroom seemed to the same, but for only a moment.

“On the charge of domestic violence, we find the defendant: guilty,” the young lady continued. “On the charge of rape, we find the defendant: guilty.”

For a second, Roman couldn’t see anything, everything felt and looked fuzzy. The voices that he could somewhat hear were muffled and quiet. It was like a grenade had shot off right by his ear, causing a painful ringing. Everything was in slow motion. He could feel someone gently grip his right shoulder, then a bit later his right as his blurry world spun and a blob sat in front of him.

“Roman,” he could hear a familiar voice call as the ringing slowly faded and his vision became clearer. “Roman, hey.” He could finally see and hear, it was Emile Picani. “Roman, we won!”

The man fully comprehended what happened and tears came flowing, but he didn’t feel them, he couldn’t feel himself crying anymore, just the stinging of his eyes. Wasn’t he supposed to feel happy or, at the very least, relief?

“We did?” He questioned, furrowing his eyebrows for a moment before relaxing them. “I don’t… I don’t feel like we did.”

He looked around the room, there weren’t many people there anymore. The only ones there was him, Picani, Virgil, and Patton.

“You’re in shock, but that’s okay,” He reassured. “Things are going to be alright.”

As soon as the lawyer said that, the phrase “Was it?” echoed throughout the young man’s mind. That’s when he finally felt everything, all the screaming he did through a hand muting him, all the bone breaking words thrown at him as fists, all the blood from half-healed self-inflicted wounds along his thighs and wrist felt reopened, and he could finally feel the relief and feel himself cry.

He fell into Picani’s chest, in shaking sobs. It was finally over. Damien was put away for a long time, albeit not all the time he deserved, but still away from Roman and his family. Virgil and Patton watched him crumble into the other man’s arms. They didn’t want to say anything or felt the need to, they knew he needed the crumble and they were prepared to help him put himself back together.

…

The car ride was silent, aside from the low-volume radio playing happy fast-paced music. Virgil sat in the driver seat while Roman sat in the passenger. Patton and Picani went to their homes after everything was done. They all insisted on going out to eat to celebrate winning the case, but Roman declared he was tired and would rather go back to his apartment.

“Hey, I really don’t want to leave you alone,” Virgil finally mention, ending the silence. “I’m not saying you’re in danger or anything, because obviously, you’re not anymore. But I just… I don’t know, I don’t want to leave you alone.”

Roman searched for his words and his best acting skills as he turned towards his friend and put on his best fake smile. “I’m okay, I just need to be alone to think over things, ya know?”

He glanced over and furrowed his eyebrows. “I guess.” He sat silently for a moment. “Just… Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“I will don’t worry!” The car ride went quiet again, up until Virgil was outside of Roman’s apartment. “Thanks for driving me around for the past few months, I really appreciate it.”

“No problem, man, I’d do anything for you,” Virgil said with a gentle smile.

Roman unbuckled his seatbelt, leaned over, and hugged him. “I love you so much, Virge.”

The other man slightly hesitated but hugged his best friend back. “I love you too, Ro.”

The hug lasted a full minute, which was different from what Virgil was used to, but he wasn’t going to complain. They both had a very rough couple of months, especially Roman. After the hug was over, Roman got out of the car, waved at Virgil one last time, and went inside his apartment, which still didn’t feel exclusively his. It never did.

As he walked into the living room, it still smelled like Damien. Some of the clothes on the floor were Damien’s, that couch still had an imprint where Damien would normally sit, the dishes in the sink were once eaten off by Damien, everything in that apartment reminded him of Damien. Roman’s mind was filled with awful memories of being thrown around, hit, and forced to do things he didn’t want to do. He couldn’t take this.

He stomped over to the dishes and threw them on the ground with a loud crash, he took all of Damien’s clothes in the fireplace and lit it, he then took the cushions on the couch and flipped them. Lastly, there was the bathroom, he tore off the bed sheets and put them next to the fireplace, they were next to go through the burning inferno. He already felt better, he would need new dishes and bedsheets, but he needed them gone.

As he watched the clothes slowly burn away, he saw a red liquid drop onto the floor in the corner of his eye. He glanced down at his hand and realized he had a deep cut, most likely from the plates he slammed on the ground.

“Well, shit,” he muttered before walking into the bathroom to get the first aid kit. He washed off the cut to the best of his ability, rinsed it with rubbing alcohol and wrapped it up in gauze. After he was done, he returned to the living room to continue watching the fire, sitting on the couch as he did so.

He took a deep breath and sighed. It was finally all over and he didn't have to worry about any of that bullshit anymore.

…

Life had got much better for everyone. Patton decided to move in with Virgil for his new elementary school teacher job and Virgil feels more content with someone living with him. Roman is going through hormone therapy and has been on testosterone for about a year. He also recently got a new job as a part of the tech team in a local theatre. He wanted to be an actor so bad, but he was too nervous to do it yet.

Today was a normal day, but this time was a bit different. He just came out of a Starbucks, pink drink in hand, on his way to work. This time, however, an attractive man with glasses and a blue polo shirt caught his eye.

He needed to talk to him. He couldn’t explain it, he saw attractive men all the time, but this one just had an aura about him. Roman took a deep breath and walked up to the man, who was patiently waiting for the streetlight to turn go from the orange hand to the white walking icon.

“Hey,” Roman greeted him with a slight stutter.

For a moment the other man was confused, but then greeted back with a cautious “Hello?”.

“Sorry, I know this is kind of weird for some random guy stopping you and talking to you,” The trans man scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “But you just seem… approachable? I don’t know, I just feel like I should talk to you.”

“Oh,” the mysterious stranger blurted, easing up a little bit. “I just thought you were some random salesman.”

Roman chuckled. “No, I just wanted to know your name.”

“My name is Logan,” he replied with a slight smile. Roman is very gay. “What is your name?”

“Uh, my name is Roman,” He tried to recover from his gayness, but failed. “Where are you headed if you don’t mind me asking?”

“No, it’s alright. I’m going to work actually. I’m a professor at a nearby college.”

“A man of smarts, eh? Pardon me or being so bold, but, not only is that very fitting, it is very attractive. What do you teach?”

For a moment, Logan looked a bit flustered but quickly recovered. “I teach astronomy.”

“That’s so cool! How long have you been teaching?”

“About three years so not that long, but I love astronomy and the students. I could never see myself doing anything else.”

“That’s beautiful,” Roman smiled gently.

“Thank you, where are you going?”

“About the same, actually. I work at the local theatre as part of the tech team.”

“I would have mistaken you for an actor,” the teacher raised his eyebrow.

“I would love to be one, but I just don’t think I’m quite ready for that. I don’t think I’m good enough, to be honest.”

This time he furrowed his eyebrows. “Why? You’re attractive, if your speaking voice is any testament to your singing voice, it must be nice, and you don’t seem to be the timid type seeing how you walked up to me without a problem.”

“Huh,” Roman was puzzled for a moment. “I never really thought about it that way, thank you.” He glanced at his watch. “Damn, I really need to go, but I want to see you again.”

“Do you have a pen and paper?”

“I have a pen, not any paper,” he glanced around for a solution, then saw Logan’s hand. “Can I use your hand?”

“I-I suppose?”

Roman gently grabbed his hand and wrote down his number. “Text me later, okay?”

“Sounds like a plan,” he smiled. How can a smile just make someone gayer? “It was a pleasure talking with you, Roman. I will talk to you soon.”

“Y-yeah! See ya later, Logan!” Then they parted ways.

That’s when Roman got out his phone and texted Virgil. “OH MY GOSH VIRGE I AM HELLA GAY AS SHIT”.

In a few seconds, Virgil texted back. “Roman, this isn’t new information. Why did you wake me up at seven in the morning to tell me something I already knew?”

“BECAUSE THERE WAS THIS GUY WHO WAS GOT AS FUCK AND I GAVE HIM MY NUMBER AND I AM CURRENTLY DYING”.

“Capslock, Ro. I need a cup of coffee first.”

After a few minutes, Roman was not only at the entrance of his work, but Virgil texted back. “Okay, continue.”

“I’m about to go to work, so I’ll have to tell you later, but I will say… Glasses, polo, tie, and jeans have never looked so attractive,” he about pocketed his phone, until he felt a vibration from it.

“You have a type, but okay.”

Roman wouldn’t be as annoyed as he was if it wasn’t true. He did find a man in a tie very attractive, especially if it was with a suit, but a polo would definitely do for now.

…

“So you are actually going to do this?” Logan asked, leaning back in his seat taking a sip of his coffee.

“Yeah, I mean,” Roman shrugged. “You’ve convinced me.”

“I believe you did that yourself, Roman. I may have encouraged you, but you ultimately made the decision yourself.”

The two were hanging out at a local coffee shop. They had been talking for a few months and if Roman didn’t think he had crush before, he definitely did now. Logan was passionate, handsome, and an incredible hard-worker. Too bad Logan was completely oblivious when it came to his flirting. Even so, he still didn’t know if the teacher was gay or not, which made everything even more frustrating.

“You can take a compliment you know,” he rolled his eyes. “I couldn’t have made a decision without you, Lo. It’s with your encouragement that I felt confident enough to agree to the audition in the first place.”

“Ah, so you agree it was just encouragement,” Logan said with a smirk.

Roman threw a balled up napkin at him, it hit his chest softly. “Shut up!”

He threw back his head in laughter.

In case it wasn’t blatantly obvious, Roman is very gay. His face began to turn red as he turned the other way. He took a deep breath and sighed, gaining back his composure. “So, if I get in, will you come to see me?”

Logan furrowed his eyebrows, then relaxed them. “Of course, Roman.”

He smiled softly to himself, looking down at his half-way empty cup of coffee. “I’m glad.”

For a moment, Roman could’ve sworn he saw his friend turn away.

He cleared his throat. “Anyway, you need to prepare for your audition.”

“I already have my monologue ready!”

“And your solo?”

“... Okay, maybe I’m a bit underprepared-”

“Roman,” the college professor pinched the bridge between his eyes. “You know what, we are going to my lecture hall, then you are going to find a song and practice it.”

“I don’t wanna go to school!” He whined jokingly.

“No, we’re going,” Logan grabbed the other man’s hand gently and went on their way.

Shit.

When they got there, Logan shut the door behind them, booted up his computer, and opened up YouTube. Roman leaned on his desk, waiting for further instruction.

“Okay, what song are you thinking of singing?” He looked over his computer.

“I don’t know, I haven’t sung except with Virgil in the car,” he answered honestly.

“Why is that? I thought you loved singing.”

“I do, it’s just…” Voice dysphoria. “I’m unconfident in my voice.”

“Well, with a good song, hopefully, we can boost that confidence.” Logan thought for a moment, then typed in a song. “Do you know of the musical: Dear Evan Hansen?”

“I LOVE that musical,” Roman replied with loud enthusiasm.

“Let’s try the beginning of ‘You Will Be Found’.”

It went well, way more than Roman thought it would. His voice had gotten deeper. Logan was thoroughly impressed as well. However, he had a better idea that seemed to fit Roman a bit better.

“That was beautiful, Roman,” the teacher complimented.

“Are you just saying that?” the wannabe actor asked under his breath.

“No,” he replied sternly. “I was going to say that I think there’s another song that I think would fit your personality better.” As he typed, he continued talking. “It is rather risky, but I think if done in the right way, it’s possible.”

“What’s the song?”

“Defying Gravity.”

Roman’s eyes widened. “No, no way!”

“Worst-case scenario it’s not in your range and we choose another song.” He clicked “play”. “You know the words to the solo version correct?”

“Yes, of course, but-”

“Then you got this. Breathe, Roman.”

He did just that. The key was different than what he was used to, but it fit better after he got used to. He could hit the notes and he didn’t sound like a girl. He sounded like a man. The power of testosterone and hormone therapy in general.

The last note was a bit rough as his thoughts got the best of him. He tried to get back on track but only made it worse. Good job, Roman.

“That was outstanding actually,” Logan stated. “That last note, however.”

“I over-thought it.”

“That’s a first.”

“Hey!”

The college professor laughed at himself and his friend’s reaction. “Anyway, I think that’s a winner, oddly enough.”

“Really?” Roman raised an eyebrow.

“Indeed,” He nodded and shut off his computer. He walked over to the other man. “If you work at it and not overthink it, you will succeed.”

“Thank you, Logan.” Roman hugged him. “You have no idea what this means to me. You’re an amazing friend.”

At first, Logan was hesitant, but then softly hugged him back. “No problem, Roman.” It was oddly comforting, he hasn’t hugged anyone in a very long time.

After a few moments, they broke the hug, that’s when something strange occurred. They shared eye contact, which wasn’t strange in of itself, but the feeling that happened between both of them was strange. Roman’s heart began to race, along with the thoughts in his head. They were all screaming one thing: “KISS HIM YOU FOOL!” The second they all shut off, it happened. Roman kissed Logan.

As soon as it started, however, it ended. It was light, but let off enough electricity to set off the “OH SHIT” alarm in Ro’s head. He needed to leave. He needed to leave right now.

“I gotta go,” Roman dashed out of the room.

“Roman, wait-!”

The door slam shut. Logan leaned back on his desk as if it were the only thing supporting him. He gently touched his lips, still in shock as to what happened. He stayed for a while, contemplating many things at once. What the hell are these emotions?

…

It had been several months since that incident. Roman had gotten a role in the musical, more specifically, a secondary role. The musical was Be More Chill and he was playing Michael. They almost gave him the lead role, however, they decided that he should get a lesser role due to lack of experience. Which he was okay with, in fact, he was very much excited and more than prepared for opening night, nervous, but still excited. He had already bought tickets for Virgil and Patton for the front row.

The only thing he was worried about was, of course, “Michael in the Bathroom”. His voice had gotten slightly deeper since his audition -which he nailed- and sometimes his voice wanted to crack in times it really shouldn’t have. It frustrated him, to say the least, but he believed in him just as much as some did several months ago: Logan.

He hadn’t thought of Logan for a few months, forcing himself to focus on his work. The second he would think of him, that’s when he would falter. He couldn’t let that happen. He would shove those thoughts deeply until the show was over. That’s all that he needed.

That’s when the stage lights showed on him. “Michael!” The actor for Jeremy exclaimed.

He continued his groove and song. This was him now, he wasn’t Roman then. He was Michael. That was the whole point of him being there: To act. He’d be damned if he wasn’t going to do just that.

It all flew by and it was finally near the end of act two. It was time for his comeback, for Michael’s comeback.

“Get out of my way, loser,” the other actor growled, causing Michael to all but crawl into his shoes.

He ran inside the bathroom and slammed the door behind himself. Covering his mouth, to shield his agape mouth.

A knock and a shout. “Hey! Some people have to use the bathroom!”

“I’m on my period!” He replied.

“Take your time, sweetheart.” They went away.

The music started. It was his time, finally. He continued to stare at the floor for the first part of the verse, then paced around as he continued. After a verse and a half of that, he sat on the tub, this is the first time he fully noticed the crowd. That was his downfall.

He saw his friends: Virgil and Patton. Next to them, however, was the person he forced himself to suppress in the back of his mind: Logan.

No, not now. He couldn’t, he wasn’t ready. They made eye contact. Fuck it, use this as fuel. That’s what a good actor would. He was a tad bit late, albeit, but he saved it.

“But then I look in the mirror, and the present is clearer,” He took a short breath. “And there’s no denying, I’m just-!”

He was crying. That’s it, not only did he hit the note, he finally cried on cue. He finished the song, then exiting offstage, his eyes flooding with real tears. He couldn’t tell if this was Roman or Michael anymore. Whoever it was, he needed to collect himself before Michael appears on stage again.

…

The rest of the show went extremely well. The whole cast earned a standing ovation and Roman earned a few loud cheers, not just from the people in the front row either. He earned it and he knew he did, the whole cast did. All the hard work was all worth it for this moment.

After the crowd cleared off and the stage was clear, Roman walked out of the back doors, just to be tackled in a hug by Patton, luckily he caught himself.

“I’m so proud of you!” He cried, tears prevalent in his voice. “The show was amazing and you were just- augh- you were just flawless as always, Roman!”

“Thanks, Patt,” He smiled gently as he hugged his friend back. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

When Patton finally let him go, Virgil came up to hug him.

“Are we gonna do the straight guy hug or an actual hug?” Virgil asked, a smirk on his face.

“I prefer an actual hug, but whatever you prefer, Dark and Dreary,” the actor pulled his best friend into a hug. “Thank you for encouraging me and giving me reality checks, Virge.”

“That was all you, buddy,” He hugged him tightly. “I’m so proud of you, you did amazing.”

Ro smiled as they let go. That was until he noticed someone out of the corner of his eye. All of the emotion he had earlier came back, but not with sadness, with rage.

He saw Logan again. This time, Logan looked guilty. He had something to say, but he wasn’t going to say it quite yet.

“Excuse me for a moment,” He said walking away from the pair.

They watched him, Patton stopping Virgil from going after him. “Let him sort this out, Virgil.” The purple-haired man nodded.

Roman stood face-to-face to Logan. He breathed in deeply then let out a sigh. He knew what he wanted to say.

“I know what I did was sudden. I know I was dumb,” The actor let his emotion take over fully. “But why the hell do you think it’s okay to just suddenly walk into my life again?! You think you can just come back and act like nothing happened?! That you didn’t ignore my texts?! That you neglected to call me back for months?! You think it’s okay to come to my show, opening night, and sit in the fucking first row?! Do you understand how that makes me feel?! Do you want to hurt me?! Do you want to see me in pain, is that it?!”

“Roman,” Logan called.

“What do you want from me?! Do you want to make me cry again?!”

“Roman, please-”

“What is it, Logan? For once in your life, explain to me your fucking feelings?!”

The professor gently pulled the other man into an embrace. “Please, Roman.”

“Just,” he tugged on the back of Logan’s shirt as his tears fell. “Why did you leave me, Lo?”

For a moment, Roman could’ve sworn that he heard him sniffle. He couldn’t think about it or he would cry much harder.

“I’m sorry,” he began. “I didn’t understand how I felt. I couldn’t figure out my words for once. I didn’t want to hurt you, I never did. I just…” He sighed. “I wanted to say I had romantic feelings for you, but I didn’t know how.”

“You just did.” The performer pulled away, a slight smirk on his face, then it faltered again. “However, if you ever pull some shit like that again, I will sick Virgil on you.”

Logan looked over Roman’s shoulder, noticing a rather intimidating man with purple hair, giving him a violent glare. A shiver went down his vine, causing Roman to chuckle. He did not look like the type of person to go toe-to-toe with.

“However,” He started again, earning back Logan’s attention. “I want me to promise me something.”

“Anything,” the man with glasses replied.

“Be honest with your feelings,” he said sternly.

“I-” he interrupted himself with a sigh- “Emotions are not my strong suit. I will try, however. I will do my best for you. I would do anything for you.”

“I… Logan, you don’t have to say all of that.”

“I mean it.” He kissed Roman gently on the head. “I don’t want to hurt you like this ever again. It physically hurt me to watch you cry onstage and cry now. I don’t want to cause that, that’s never my intention. I care about you so much and-”

“Logan,” Roman placed his hand gently on the other man’s lips. “Please, breathe.”

And he did just that. “I care about you, more than you’ll ever know. That’s being honest.”

“Logan,” he grabbed his hands, intertwining their fingers. “May I kiss you, I’m not going to surprise you like last time.”

The intelligent man smiled. “You may.”

That was the start of a beautiful new relationship and they were finally ready to pursue it.

…

It had been almost a year since that night and everything was going great. Logan and Roman have been dating since then and they couldn’t be happier. There was only one thing that caused Roman some discomfort when he thought about it: Logan still didn’t know that Roman was transgender. It just never gave up in conversation and there didn’t seem to be a good time to talk about it. That was about to change.

It was Roman’s day off and he was relaxing in the living room, watching Mulan for the umpteenth time. It was rather hot, so he decided that he didn’t a shirt, just his binder. He was by himself after all and his dysphoria was manageable that day.

His phone buzzed from across the room, but he didn’t hear it. It was a text from his boyfriend.

“Salutations my prince, I believe I left one of my ties over at your apartment. I know this is very last minute, and I apologize for that, but I am about five minutes away, so I hope it is alright that I will be dropping by. I hope to see you soon, Logan.”

In exactly five minutes after that text, Mulan ended, causing Roman to get up from his seat and check his phone. That’s when he saw the text, panic immediately set in.

“Shit,” he said with a gasp.

He couldn’t think logically. His house was an utter mess from his Disney movie marathon and not to mention he was shirtless at the moment. It was fine though, he still had time to find a shirt at least, right? That’s when he heard keys rattling on the other side of the front door. He forgot he gave Logan a key.

His mind went a million thoughts per second but the main thing screaming was “shirt”. He didn’t have a shirt close enough by unless he somehow could run to-

“Oh,” Logan blurted, as they locked eyes.

“I-” Roman tried to speak, but a certain voice in his head stopped him. “I can explain.”

“What? You’re embarrassed he found out who you truly are? Pathetic,” the voice spat. It was a voice he thought he forgot about, but it was back again. “Now he’s never going to love you. You will never, ever be loved, Roman.”

Logan’s figure was replaced with someone else’s. Someone who he hadn’t seen in almost two years. It caused him to step back in fear.

“Please don’t hurt me,” he whimpered.

Behind the monster’s voice was a garbled muted one, but he couldn’t quite hear it over the harshness of the monster’s. “I won’t waste my time on a pathetic piece of shit like you. You’re a waste of flesh and blood.”

Tears came streaming down the young actor’s face. “No, I’m n-not.” He tripped and fell down onto his rear end. The figure loomed over him as the garbled speech behind it continued. “Please, leave me alone. You’re scaring me.”

“You see, Rosalina, that’s not possible, I’m always here,” he growled, leaning down and grabbing his shoulders.

Roman shut his eyes tears.

“Roman!” the muffled voice finally became clear.

He opened his eyes to see his boyfriend. Originally, he would’ve been a source of comfort, but now he was someone he feared. “I’m sorry” is all Ro could mumble over and over.

“Roman, please,” Logan gently pulled his boyfriend into a hug. “It’s okay, please don’t be sorry. There’s nothing wrong with you, you’re fine.”

“Please don’t hate me now,” he sobbed into his shoulder.

“I could never hate you,” he reassured as he kissed the crying man’s forehead. “I love you so much. I don’t care if you’re transgender or not, I still love you. I always will, that’s a promise.”

This only caused Roman to hold on to him tightly as if Logan could disappear at any second. “I love you too.”

Logan pulled away slightly, making eye contact. “However, you need to be honest with me. I said I would be honest about myself, I want you to do the same, please.”

The other looked away for a moment, then proceeded to look into his lover’s eyes. “Okay, but it’s a very long story.”

…

“You found out you were transgender two years ago?” Logan asked, processing all the information that was given to him.

“Yes.”

“And your ex-partner forbid you from continuing your transition by causing you emotional and physical harm?”

“... Yes.”

“How did Virgil not kill him?”

“He almost did, but I stopped him by pressing charges against Damien,” Roman looked towards his boyfriend on the opposite side of the couch. He looked as if he was deep in thought.

“Is this bastard behind bars?” He said through gritted teeth as he balled his hands into a fist.

“Fortunately, yes,” The actor said with a forced smile. “Emile Picani was my lawyer, he’s one of the best people I know. I’m still thankful to this day for helping me.”

“Roman, you didn’t deserve what he did to you,” He turned to his love, a mixture of sadness, anger, and concern in his eyes. “You can’t help how you are and if he hated you for it, that was his problem, it shouldn’t have been your’s.”

“I know that now,” Roman moved closer to him as he placed a gentle hand to his shoulder. “That thing that happened a few minutes ago was something that came from trauma, not you. It’s an everyday battle.”

“You should not have to fight that battle alone,” his face was turned away and there was a slight tremble in his voice. “I should have been more reassuring.”

“Logan, look at me.”

He hesitated, then came face to face with his boyfriend. Logan was crying.

“Oh, Logan,” he said with a sigh as he hugged him. “Please don’t blame yourself. You didn’t do anything wrong. You can’t stop the things that are wrong with me. What happened a few minutes ago wasn’t your fault. I’m getting help.”

“I don’t want you to be in pain,” he replied through his soft sobs.

“I’m the happiest I’ve been in years, Lo,” Roman reassured. “You’re with me, Virgil and Patton are happy, my acting career is taking off, Damien is gone, I’m getting the help I need, and my family back at home is fully supportive of everything I do. I’m not in pain, there are just things that need to be fixed before I’m fully healed.”

Logan held his boyfriend tightly. “I’m not going to leave your side, then.”

He smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, my prince.”

[thingstotellthem]

I'm Sorry

It took me 20 years of my life to realize that what I went through was not “strict parenting”, it was emotional abuse. You would never let me hang out with friends when I was very little, and god forbid if I was seen ten feet within a male friend. You would throw things on the ground and break them when you got angry, you would say that I’m an ungrateful brat for wanting to express my opinion, you belittle me and my hobbies (telling me that me buying plushies is a waste of time and money and that I’m too old for that; that my hobby of drawing will never get me a good living so I should stop), you tell me I’m fat and that I’m ugly because of it (and now you wonder why I don’t bother to put makeup on or try and make myself “beautiful”). You become passive agressive and make it about you. You say things like “no one ever wants to help me around the house, I must be a terrible mother, I guess I should run away and die or something. You guys can obviously live without me, you guys don’t need me. No no, don’t say you’re sorry, it’s not like you guys care.” Even my brother says things like “stop being a pussy and just get a job. Look at me, I’m only 17 and begging for a job!” You call me a liar when I just try to tell you the truth, you obviously don’t seem to truly care about my feelings. Nope, I’m just supposed to be a quiet submissive girl who does everything she’s told in a Mexican family. Everything I do is somehow my fault and any sign of speaking up for myself is seen as rude and almost blasphemous. Speaking of blasphemous, you’re too caught up in religion. I believe in God, but I can’t say it’s the same one you follow. You’re intensely homophobic and transphobic and you think all lgbtq+ people are sinful and disgusting. I had to break up with my first partner (they’re non binary, but you see them as a girl) because you keep threatening to kick us out and disown us if you ever caught me being gay, and you almost caught us that time. I still haven’t recovered from breaking their heart, even though they know about you. Now that I have a boyfriend, you seem a little calmer, but you obviously don’t care that asexual people like me exist. You think I’m just gonna jump his bones the second I’m alone with him. You don’t trust me.

Now I’m so terrified of you all. I can’t speak up for myself because I don’t wanna make you angry. You’re scary when you’re angry. I’m too dependent on you to leave, even though I’m almost 21. Now I get so scared and panicky when I hear glass breaking or any kind of loud sound. I can only feel truly calm when you’re not home. I feel like I have to ask a month in advance for a friend of mine to come over for one day while my brother brings his friends home without permission every other day. I’ve become so emotionally numb sometimes until I just break down at night. I self harm at night and I starve myself for days. I hate myself so fucking much; I have no love for myself. Now I believe I have the symptoms and meet the criteria for AVPD and quiet BPD. I don’t tell you much anymore; whatever I haven’t told, I keep it hidden. You guys don’t know who I am anymore; I doubt if you ever did.

Worst of all, you genuinely think this is a good way to raise me. I think you actually love me, but you have no idea what you’ve done to me. On the good days, you’re like the best parents ever. You pay for my car, you let me have a tv and laptop in my room, you take us to fun places like amusement parks and water parks. Sometimes I feel so bad that I can’t ever speak to you about this, mainly out of fear that you’ll get defensive and angry. I don’t want people to be angry at me. Sometimes I wish that you would just hit me physically so I can truly know if what you’re doing is abuse or if I’m just being a dramatic bitch seeking attention; just abuse me, please. Sometimes I just wanna run away and never come back, but that would mean leaving everything I own behind. I never want to have kids because of you; I’m afraid that I’ll fuck them up the same way you did to me. I’m sorry, mommy and daddy. I’m sorry that I can’t tell you this because I genuinely think that you’ll either get so pissed that you’ll do something drastic or try to gaslight me and say “we never did that, how dare you say that to us, the perfect parents! You’re imagining everything!” Now I’m thinking I could be traumatized by all this, but then I also think “no, trauma is for people who have actually went through legitimate abuse, you can’t be traumatized”; yet, I flinch and get silent and almost cry when I hear loud sounds of anger. I get all shaky and my mind goes into overdrive if someone says “I want to talk to you” in a neutral tone. And my heart just about stops if someone tries to be passive aggressive towards me, I hate it, I hate it, please don’t be angry at me, please! And it’s not like I can get a medical professional to help me figure out about the two mental illnesses I mentioned; they’re not only expensive, but there’s no way I can keep it a secret, I can’t tell you guys or you’ll get angry. And what if the medical professional tells you guys? Then you’ll get angrier. I don’t want you to be angry. Please.

Please. I’m sorry.

[lanaarwenlazar]

in honor of villain releasing and me starting it later today, here is a special insight into my brain in the form of the notes i made on my phone as i was reading monster last year, completely unedited (so with all my spelling mistakes and freakouts)

there are spoilers for monster, obviously

(keep in mind that i was very emotional about being back in the gone-universe, so don’t judge me lmao)

i ship malik and shade already. can’t habdle them they’re too cute

oh my god shade is basically a true crime fan, thanks i hate it

“WHATEVER MALIK DID IT GENERALLT SOMEHOW WORK” MY LOVE

...it will be interesting to see what people have to say about mg writing his first trans character

transphobic violence already, i think someone will have a problem with this chapter being called “the meet cute”

where

is

dekka

WHAT THE FUCK SHADE WHAT ARE YOU DOING YOURE INSANE

I WAS RIGHT BY THE WAY THE MOVIE SUCKED AND WAS A BAD IDEA AND I HOPE ASTRID AND SAM ARE SUFFERING AND HAVE NO FRIENDS

nooo dekka sweetie :(((

oh my god a dekka chapter what if we get updates on everyone i’m not ready

dekka is broke no :(((

but she drives a motorcycle i’m so in love

dekka has a cat. marry me

“Of those three hundred thirty-two kids, fifty-one developed one supernatural power or another. Only nineteen of you developed major powers and survived. And of these nineteen, seven have since developed serious psychological disorders” NO MY KIDS IM CRYING

“Lana Lazar spent time in a mental health facility” eeelp

“I know, she’s a friend of mine. She’s fine now.” THEY ARE FRIEND.jzoddbfb

“Others’ like Sam Temple, the supposed hero of the fayz, have had-”

HAVE HAD WHA TOM??!!!?!

“’Supposed hero?’ Screw you. You don’t disrespect Sam Temple where I can here it.” I’m 😭😭😭😭😭😭

sam was in rehab has an alcoholic kill me

and he’s on the wagon sober for sixteen months ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

DEKKA REMEMBERINH BRIANNA KILL ME

Hey, Sam’s sober and Astird got her head screwed on straight so leave them out of this - dekka out there defending her people

MG in the online: edilio is the true hero of the fayz MG in the books: sam is the true hero of the fayz me: so what is the truth?

oh my god that just means edilio is still underappreciated

DEKKA WANTS SAM AND ASTRID TO GO TO COLLEGE WORK AND ONE DAY HAVE A BABY GIRL NAMED DEKKA WHAT THE FUCK SHOOT ME

Me @ me: mg loves edilio. he will be in here. mg loves edilio. he will be in here. mg loves edilio. he will be in here. mg loves edilio. he will be-

Four year old Sean is here to cause trouble

Cruz singing my love ❤️❤️

We’ve literally just met him and Justin DeVeere already sounds like a potential school shooter

also how dare mg give him the same name as justin roger’s little brother

He’s so disgusting yikes

I don’t understand what just happened and what erin and justin are up to but WHY do i feel like they just had sex so they could have a gaia-like baby

is justin turning into the hulk or orc

Justins arm is turning into a sword

Is justin turning into drake...

Or orc/britney? Orc/britney/justin?

If Aristotle Arno Adamo is anything like Ari from Aaddtsotu i already love him

oh he’s not

Armo is the Quinn of Monster pass it on

Will Quinn be mentioned in this book?

“Armo was not part of any clique, because there was one, only one Armo at Malibu High School” oh my god he’s awful i love him

“I want to take Danish. My family is danish” bitch mine too

“You understand that everyone in Denmark speaks english right? Usually better than most Americans?” drag america i love t

god i love him

armo just survived a serious accident and he’s crying because he wreacked his car whaya guy

what are they doing to armo :(((

SHADE WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT

noo poor cruz

whyy would mg introduce malik tenerife, the biggest sweetheart and shade’s closest friend and make me fall in love with him, and then in the SAME CHAPTER introduce cruz, a new best friend for shade and then just never mention malik again???? i love cruz but i miss malik

where is knightmare

“I REREAD THE ELLISON BOOK” ASTRID WROTE A BOOK

yikes a milady dude and homophobia all in one page!!

WHY IS EVERYONE IN THIS BOOK JUST TRANSFORMING INTO BOOKS

oh shit i just understood why mg says this is part animorphs

Malik’s back my boy

DEKKAS CAT IS NAMED EDITH WINDSOR I JUST----

DEKKA TOOK THE FRAMED PICTURE OF BRIANNA WITH HER OH MY GODDD

“Only now did Dekka see that those last four years had been a dream, unreal, somehow. The FAYZ was real.” dekka bby no :(((

oh my goooood taylor is back bitches i just got chills

SHE GRABBED THE CELEBRITY GOSSIP MAGAZINES OF COURSE SHE DID I LOVE HER

dekka be nice to taylor she’s had a hard life she deserves to know the goss :))

when they’re only talking baout the kids with power... when will edilio come in

aaaand there is drake ugh. “a violent, sadistic psychopath. A rapist. A torturer. A murderer”

EDILIO WAS THERE TOO THERE TOO THE FUCK

DID MG FORGET EDILIO ECISTS

BRIANNA DEKKA SAM ASTRID TAYLOR DRAKE LANA HUNTER ORC HAVE ALL BEN MENTIONED

WHERE IS EDILIO AND LANA

Drake responsible for 18 instances of rape mutilation and murder in the last year y i k e s

Justin has a lobster claw for one hand and a sword for the other o k a y

oh my god shade could kill tr*mp

“There are three types of superheroes, Shade: Hero, Villain and Monster” *looks into the camera like i’m on the office*

CAINE AND PENNY GOT THEIR MENTIONS

NOW GIVE ME EDILIO

Malik is still in love with shade rip me

oh no cruz bby you’re invisible :((

i feel like this series will be more hard sci-fi with aliens and government and powers than gone was, gone was more of a sci-fi/dystopian/lord of the flies/survival-mix

i’m worried about armo :((

me: had never read an animorphs book in my life also me: wow this reminds me so much of animorphs!

HES A POLAR BEAR NOW

THEY’RE LITERALLY SAYING THE WORD MORPHING

should be interesting to see what kind of shit mg will get for this y i k e s

WHAT THE FUCKKKKKK IS HAPØENING THE SEAN WAS HE TURNING INTO A CATERPILLAR WITH NO MOUTH WHAT THE FUCK HE IS FOUR YEARS OLD

OH THERES HIS MOUTH WHAT THE FUCK

fuuuuck i knew he would be knightmare

at least knightmare really is the name of a shitty pretentious art student dude

a group of girl scouts just fell to their deaths off the golden gate bridge

WHO ARE THE DARK WATCHERS

i actually think they’re aliens

pls get over brianna dekka

at least mg is realizing that brekka was kind of weird

why is dekka watching danish sex. what does that even mean.

this book is unrealistic bc it’s page number 208 and dekka still hasn’t thought about edilio. who goes that long without thinking about edilio.

oh no dekka is morphing with some animal too

DEKKA HAS MEDUSA HAIR WHAT THE FUCK

the cat died WHAT THE FUCK

“Motorcycle gangs and white supremacists and registered sex offenders, that’s who dominated Perdido Beach today” yikes

Dekka mentioned the word gaiaphage and i had a physical disgusted reaction, but not because of the actual gaiaphage, but bc of that fucking website. god i lvoe that gaiaphage.com is dead.

why has mg created a worldwide perdido beach situation but just given is three books to fix it

“I was Sam’s soldier” NO??? You wrre edilio’s soldier the fuck

EVERY TIME I SEE EDITH MY HEART SKIPS BECAUSE IT STARTS WITH EDI AND I THINK ITS FINALLY GOING TO BE EDILIO

Armo and Dekka is my new brotp

WHO THE FUCK IS JEHOVA

LESS VILLAIN POVS MICHAEL PLEASE

“Hey. You. Should. Um.... Stop. Being. An. Asshole.” SHADE

Combining the villains into one villain. Very schmart michael 👌🏻

PAGE 308 EDILIO MENTION OH MY GOD

Edilio on page 309 kill me cant even quote it

GRAVES STILL THERE

IN RESPECTFUL MEMORY TO BOTH THE WISE AND THE FOOLISH WHO STRUGGLED TO SURVIVE UNSPEAKABLE HORRORS IN THIS PLACE im 😭😭

ALBERT GOT HIS DUES YEAH

BUT HOW IS EDILIO TODAY

WHERE IS DINAA LOSER

GRAVE FOR MARY 😭

GRAVE FOR DUCK 😭

GRAVE FOR HUNTER 😭

GRAVE FOR ORC 😭

Grave for Caine 😐 “Caine Soren. “King of the FAYZ. Blaze of Glory”

FIRST DIANA MENTION AND ITS HOW MUU CAINE LOVED HER IM

BRIANNA HAS A LAST NAME SOS. “Brianna Berenson. “The Breeze”. None More Bold.”

DIANA IS HERE I REPEAT DIANA IS HERE IN THE FLESH AND STILL BEAUTIFUL

DIANA PUTS FLOWERS ON THE GRAVES ONCE A WEEK OH MY HOD YOU HAVE NOTHING TO BE SORRY ABOUT I MEAN YOU DID GIVE BIRTH TO GAIA AND EAT PANDA BUT STILL

DIANA HAS A JOB AS A BARISTA HER OWN PLACE IS SEVEN MONTHS SOBER AND HAVENT TRIED TO KILL HERSELF LATELY

WAS HER AND SAM DRINKING BUDDIES

THEY SERVE A SAM TEMPLE CUCKTAIL AND A LANA VODKA

“I GUESS THEIRONY THAT FAYZERS HAVE A TENDENCY TO DRINK TOO MUCH IS LOST ON THEM” TELL THEM DEKKA

“YOU WERE GOOD TO KEEP SAM AND STRID OUT OF IT” NO TELL THEM LOSERS

DOES DIANA LIVE IN PERDIDO BEACH :((((

“THIS IS THE MOST INTIMATE IVE EVER BEEN WITH A DUDE” SAME

When Roger still hasn’t been mentioned and you know he wasn’t really that important so you can’t really complained but you miss him

and how is edilio really dekka hmmm???

Eww this Drake Brittany thing is worse if possible

wait wait wait what hoe did they get there what

if i finish monster and still don’t know how edilio is doing i’ll sue

the villain...breathes fire. he’s a dragon

Shade looks like a the bizzare cross between a flea, a Power Ranger and a teenaged girl w h a t

Vincent Vu: part fish!

noooo not malik :(((

one half of me: where the fck is edilio go talk to him dekka other half of me: edilio deserves a peaceful life thank i for keeping him away from it all

OKAY BUT WOULD EDILIO AND SAM AND EVERYONE SEE DEKKA ON THE FBI MOST WANTED LIST AND HEAR ABOUT EVERYTHING GOING ON AND SAY YIKES NOT OUR PROBLEM??? No tf they would help her!!!!

DEKKA IS WITH SAM DEKKA IS WITH SAM I REPEAT DEKKA IS WITH SAM AND HE IS HER STRONG RIGHT ARM SHOOT ME LET ME DIE

im emo

the end

missing: quinn and roger

[boahancock-hebihime]

What I think about One Piece 862

It's been a long time since I have been this disappointed. Oda completely destroyed Puddings character and the destroyed Sanji's chance to redeem. I mean I love Sanji. He's a great character but that doesn't change that Sanji is homophobic, transphobic, sexist and a Fuckboy. I already gave up that Sanji would change his homophobia and his transphobia but with this Arc Sanji had the chance to do something about his sexism. I know that he learned that he isn't supposed to hit women but when it's comes to competitions he really should make an exception. And when it comes to an equal fight he definitely should be allowed to hit a woman. He's bringing his teammates in danger just because of his obsession with women. If he lets his best friend die rather than to hit a woman there must be something fucking wrong with him. The thing that pissed me off about Pudding the most is that she just cried because he called her eye Beautiful. I'm pretty sure that no woman in real life would cry because a guy she can't stand calls her beautiful. Why can't Oda let a pretty woman be evil and manipulative. Every time when there is an evil female character she is either ugly or she has no personality what so ever. Is it so unbelievable for Oda to think that a beautiful female character can be evil and manipulative. We have enough pretty crying Female characters. We don't need another one. And don't let me get started on that stupid unbelievable sad backstory of Pudding. Didn't Big Mom say that she wants to create a world full of equality? What changed? Wasn't that one of the reasons why so many people like big mom. And have you seen the Charlotte Family?! They all look ridiculous. Pudding is one of the most normal looking why would big mom have a reason to bully her. This whole thing doesn't make sense. Please tell me your opinion about it