Here's Your Reminder That No-one Actually Knows What They're Doing In Life Either, We're All Just Role-playing

Graffiti in the women's bathroom at The Velvet Underground in Toronto, ON.

RESPECT ALL ASPEC IDENTITIES EVEN IF YOU DONT UNDERSTAND THEM

Get this message onto everyone’s dash rn

Reminder that you are not inherently a terrible person just because you're a man/masculine. You're not disgusting, you're not a villain.

Phases of the Moon Pt. 1

Remus steadily eased the door to their dorm shut, returning from another one of his late-night searches through the library’s restricted area.

“Find anything interesting?” Lily asked from her seat on the couch.

“No, on either side, no way to make me feel like a girl, no way to make me look like a boy,” 

“Remus, I agreed to cover for you so you could look for ways to be you, not change who you are,” Lily said sternly.

“But if there’s a way to fix me, I should be looking for that option too, no?” There was a genuine question in his voice, but the sorrow, the years it took for him to even acknowledge himself for who he was, hid deep in the same statement. 

“Moon, you don’t need to be fixed, at all. You’re perfect just as you are, and the only goal of this search should be to make you more comfortable.”

Moony sat with that statement, letting his thoughts envelop him. 

As Lily heard someone stumbling into the corridor, she called, “Not it!” snapping Remus out of his thoughts.

She briskly retreated to her room, passing the duty of answering the door to Remus.

“C’mon Lils, I answered last time!” he called to her, eliciting only a chuckle in response. 

In the meantime, Sirius tripped his way up the stairs, disoriented and drunk.

“Prongs! Let me in, you idiot!” he hollered, banging on their door.

“Wrong room, love!” a call came through the door.

“Awww, Moony, you can let me in, can’t you? I’ll explain to McGonagall if we get caught!”

“Sirius, just go back to your own room!” Remus said sharply.

“Moons,” he drawled, “just let me in, I promise, it’ll be fine.”

Slowly, the door between them eased open, but neither of them had touched it. Remus turned around to find Lily, with her wand pointed at the door. 

“I was sick of you two yelling for everyone to hear,” Remus glared at her as she moved towards him.

“It’s time to tell him,” she whispered in his ear, heading to the kitchen.

“You trying to steal my lover, Evans?” Sirius growled, stepping into the dorm.

“Of course not, Pads, they’re all yours!” She pours herself a mug of tea and retreats to her room.

“Moons!” Sirius grinned at his lover, going in for a kiss.

Remus dodged him, resisting Sirius’ smile, no matter how impossible it was. He had different things to worry about right now, like how to tell his lover, his star, something that could change everything. 

“You should really be in your own room,” Remus groaned at Sirius, attempting to distract from the matter at hand.

“Oh, it's quite nice to see you too, Moony,” Sirius said sarcastically.

“You know that’s not what I meant, but this is the girls' dorm, and, well, how did you even get up here?”

“You know me, I have my ways, now are we gonna keep bickering, or are you going to kiss me?” 

“Did you really come here just to kiss me? At 2 am?” Sirius ignored the question, instead taking in Moony’s outfit, trailing his eyes up and down Remus, in an oversized shirt and what Sirius could only assume were boxers.

His heart skipped a beat and then sank. Who’s boxers would Moony be wearing? Why would they be wearing anyone’s boxers? Why wasn’t Moony in Sirius’ boxers? 

Sirius tried to say anything else, to answer the question, tell Moony why he was actually here, anything but ask about the boxers, but he just couldn’t. Moony was in someone else's boxers, he had to know who’s. 

“Where’d you get the boxers?” Sirius asked, the anger seeping into his gravelly pitch.

“Don’t remember, I’ve had them for a while,”  this is not how Remus had pictured this conversation.

“Has this really been going on for a while?” Sirius practically screamed, air quoting the last part.

“What?” Remus asked, his brows furrowed. 

“You know exactly what!” Sirius shouted, pacing the room.

“I really don’t!” Moony warned, anxiety building in his chest.

“Just tell me who you’re shagging!” Sirius cracked, lunging towards Remus, towering over him.

“I’m not shagging anyone- I’m really not-” Remus staggered backwards, tears streaming down his face, breath coming in shallow sobs.

“Okay, if you’re not fucking anyone, then who’s boxers are those?” 

“It’s not what you think!” Remus shouted back, his voice shaking.

“So who is it? One of the Slytherins?” he uttered the last word in disgust. 

Remus’ thoughts spun, wondering what could make his lover think such a thing.

“No, Sirius, they’re mine!” Moony yelled, seeing Sirius cock his head in confusion, he continued “They’re my boxers! Okay?”

Remus broke down in tears, blubbering. He sank to the floor, his back pressed against the counter.

Lily emerged from her room, sternly eyeing Sirius as she poured a glass of water for Moony.

“You really couldn’t have handled that any better?” she says to Sirius, handing the glass to Remus.

“Well, they’re wearing boxers! What was I supposed to think?”

“You’re supposed to trust the person you’re with and be able to discuss things in a calm manner. And, while sober, preferably.”

“I was calm and slightly sober,” he seemed to take in what he said, “that’s a lie.” 

“You should go,” Lily said quickly, before glancing at Moony, “that alright with you, love?”

Remus stayed still for a few moments before nodding.

Sirius stalks over to the door before looking back at Remus, sorrow flashes across his eyes, rapidly replaced by unease. He quickly turned around, slamming the door behind him. 

As soon as Sirius was out the door, Remus sank further into the floor, banging the back of his head on the counter.

“I just thought he’d get it, Lils! I didn’t think he’d accuse me of cheating!” he bawled, pushing his fists into his eyes. “Do I really seem like a cheater? Someone who would shag a Slytherin?” 

“Of course not, Moon. Now stop hurting yourself and come sit with me.”

Remus makes his way to the couch, tears still clouding his vision, fury shaking his palms. 

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Lily said quietly, laying a blanket on the two of them.

Just Gender Fluid Things

- You left the house feeling |insert binary gender|. You're dressed very stereotypically |insert same binary gender| and you're in public. Suddenly your gender changes. You are now presenting as a gender you are not but no one notices that you look so much different than you feel.

- You're not out to your family yet so you are expected to present typically |insert sex assigned at birth|. So, sometimes this creates a lots of dysphoria but sometimes it's fine.

- You need to pack so much more for trips because 'what if I feel like a guy?' but also 'what if I feel like a girl?' so you need to pack "feminine" outfits & "masculin" outfits so you have double of what you need.

- The 'start hormones or don't start hormones' debate, you wanna do it but you can't, but you need to, but no way, but maybe you will or you won't.

- Pronouns. They suck.

If you wish to add something to this list feel free to send an ask beginning with 'Just Gender Fluid Things' 🫠

This is possibly my favorite thing I've read in a while.

The "encouraged myself to talk like the concept of the name Brad" makes so much sense for some reason, and just makes me laugh

And the "What did I do to earn she?" hits so close to home

Water - a wolfstar microfic

Modern Coffee Shop AU ~ cw: mentions of suicide as a joke, mild transphobia, misgendering, dysphoria ~ word count: 1,499 ~ @wolfstarmicrofic

“I swear to god I’m going to kill myself if another customer starts giving me their order when all I’ve asked is ‘How are you.’” I made the joke even though I knew he’d hate it. Remus Lupin takes thoughts of my death very seriously, doesn’t even laugh when I say, ‘But my death will be Sirius!’

But I mean, no pun intended, I was Sirius about the comment.

Because, look, sometimes working in customer service feels like choosing between lying on asphalt naked on a boiling summer day and just sort of…walking into traffic just to make your headache go away. 

That didn’t make sense, I know that, but I’ve worked two double shifts in as many days and I’m icing both of my feet and I wasn’t trying to upset my best friend by talking about my death by my own hand, but a woman who was almost certainly named Lauren had just completely ignored my frantic Be with you in a moment! as I nearly poured oat milk all over myself for the fourth time today to start telling me about the lavender latte she wanted ‘grande size’ when I don’t work at a Starbucks. 

“It’s still not funny,” he’d said, too busy slowly pouring steamed milk into a mug to look me in the eye, but I knew exactly the expression he’d have used if he could. 

“Fine, I’m going to scream, Shut the fuck up and wait one goddamn second or get the fuck out of the store! if another customer starts giving me their order when all I’ve asked is ‘How are you.’ Better?” I was whispering fast and sharp in his ear, ignoring the next Lauren in line who was trying to catch my eye. 

He did look up at this, lifting a brow at me, his stupid mouth smirking just enough that only I’d notice. “Slightly.”

As my manager, maybe he should have preferred I opt for suicide, but Remus Lupin isn’t a capitalist pig like that.

The line was to the door, which meant muttering benign threats of bodily harm (to myself or the customers) was only going to delay my inevitable suffering. I moved on to the next Lauren, and the next, and then the Laurens and their Boyfriends, who were usually named John, and then the Laurens and their moms, who usually looked perturbed to be in a coffee shop run by weirdo queers and eyed the mustache coming in on my face and my round cheeks, noted my voice that had the rasp of a 14-year-old boy and the cadence of someone raised to be a woman pandering to societal standards (no matter how hard I tried to drop the sound of a question mark at the end of my sentence, or encouraged myself to talk like the concept of the name Brad), and evidently deduced that I was something rather than someone so once again answered, “How are you?” with a flat-toned, “Medium latte with nonfat milk,” without meeting my (queer) eye. 

I opened my mouth, taking in a very large breath in preparation for my verbal assault, when I felt a body swerving in beside me. “How are you?” Remus asked her again, and Lauren’s Mom blinked at being asked another question. 

“I’m fine, thank you,” her words were clippy, but at least he’d gotten an answer to the world’s most useless question. “Medium latte with nonfat milk, please.”

He’d even gotten a please. 

I went to the bathroom.

When I returned, Remus asked casually, “Switch spots?” and didn’t mention that I’d just left him alone with an endless line on a Saturday morning when we didn't have a mid-shift so that I could sulk in the bathroom for five minutes, because again, he isn’t a capitalist pig. And also, he is kind of a saint. 

So I made oat milk cappuccinos for people that asked us to put vanilla in them–in a cappuccino–for the next two hours until my brain slid out my ears, down my arms and into the espresso drain.

And then—

“Excuse me,” someone said in a tone that sounded very much like they did not care if anyone ever excused them, “I think she made my drink wrong. I was supposed to have a large oat milk latte. This is medium, and I’m pretty sure it’s whole milk.”

She made my drink wrong, she made my drink wrong, she made my drink wrong, my shoulders were so stiff they must have touched my ears. I looked down at my black tank top and my cut off shorts and my black doc martens and wondered if I should have washed my binders last night after all because maybe it wasn’t constricting my chest enough? I hadn’t even spoken, what did I do wrong? What did I do to earn she?

Remus leaned over the register, taking the cup from the customer. “He did not make your drink wrong. I called this drink out, a medium latte for Cathy. Your drink is a large oat milk latte for…” He checked the tickets waiting on the counter. “Helen?” The customer nodded, wide-eyed. “Yeah, your drink is still third in line.”

“Oh…” Helen sputtered, actively not looking at me. “I apologize, I didn’t realize.”

“Alright, well, we need to serve the next customer, so if you could just stand…” Remus gestured toward the other side of the bar, and Helen nodded, stepping back.

Even though the next person stepped forward, Remus turned to me. He didn’t ask with words, just his soft eyebrows. 

I shrugged. “One more hour, right?”

At least, in the last hour, the lobby area was so full that many people opened the door and walked right back out. My feet ached so much I had to bounce between them for a moment of relief, my back pain was flaring up from my binder, and the clattering sounds from multiple groups’ loud chatter mixed with the music playing over the speakers created the most grating noise I’ve possibly ever heard.

When Marlene and Dorcas got there to take over for us, I almost kissed them on their beautiful lesbian mouths. 

“That bad, huh?” Marls asked as she clocked in. 

“What?” I questioned.

“You didn’t make a quippy joke when I came in, didn’t make up a song about how hard the day was, didn’t compliment my new shoes. You’re truly dead inside, so it must’ve been a rough shift.”

“Could’ve been dead on the outside, but Remus wouldn’t allow it.”

“I’ll be thanking him for that, then.”

“You ready?” He came up from behind me, touching my elbow just slightly. Somehow, even after a grueling morning with no mid-shift on an overly warm Saturday when we could have been lying out on the grass somewhere getting actual vitamin D, Remus was smiling, and his eyes meant it.

Like I said. Saint.

When we got into his car, he started it and cranked the air, but didn’t move to leave the lot. Leaning back in his seat, his shoulders facing forward, he rolled his head to look at me. “Wanna talk about it?”

I didn’t. But I did. Mostly I wanted to be around him as long as possible.

“There’s not much to say, right? Whatever. I don’t pass, it is what it is.”

He didn’t say anything.

“It’s just so fucking annoying that you pass so well,” I said, not thinking about it, and only heard how it sounded a few moments after. I winced. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, just, like, that woman you took over for me with, she even said please to you, when she couldn’t be bothered with me at all. Like, she fully thought you were a cis guy! I just don’t understand what I have to do!” 

I hadn’t meant to get that worked up, but I’ll admit it now, I was nearly crying, the words clogging up my throat, each and every side glance and double take at the sound of my voice clawing its way out of the recesses of my disassociated mind. 

He reached a hand over the center console, hovering it over the hand I had resting on my water bottle, our silent way to ask, Can I touch you? I lifted my hand up to meet his in response.

“I’m sorry, Sirius. This part of transitioning just…sucks.” His fingers were warm resting directly over mine, and I think I stopped noticing the pain in my back, my feet, my mind as much. “It’ll get easier eventually, but–yeah, until then,” he pressed his hand more firmly against mine, “I’m here.”

Anyway, Prongs, I think what I’m trying to say is I might be falling in love with my coworker/boss/best friend, and, um, help?

(Also, god I want to quit my job.)

(Also also, like exactly how bad would it be if I gave myself three T shots in one sitting?)

Terrified, Tired, Still Icing My Feet, Padfoot

FIN

A/N: DO NOT take more HRT than is prescribed to you by your doctor, no matter how much you want to, trust me, I've done it and I only got chastised and fucked my system up a bit. Also, would you guys want to read more of this little fic? No idea where it'd go, but I am fond of any iteration of wolfstar, so naturally I've already fallen in love with them. (Which is a little self-absorbed of me since Sirius was....heavily based on my own experience.) That being said, I did want to say that the customers at my coffee shop are much better than this--this was really more emulating the experience of working for Starbucks. 😆 all the hugs to my trans sibs reading this <3

my first favorite hobby is yapping. second is being extremely quiet and not talking ever at all ever.

YOUR name is YOUR name and you can decide what it is, and change it as much or as little as you want.

if your birth name is gender neutral… you don’t have to keep it just because its “non-gendered”. even if you’re switching to a similarly non-gendered name. it is your right as a person to have people call you whatever makes you the most comfortable

Hi!

I don’t really know how I introduce myself here but I guess I’ll start here: My name’s Ashe, my pronouns are he/they & any neopronouns, I’m gender fluid, neurodivergent [working on getting a professional autism diagnosis], emetophobic and I’m writing a book about someone escaping the dystopia they live in. 

🫠 7/30/22

the marauders fandom really said "fuck JK Rowling they are all trans cuz I said so" and I think that's beautiful