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shytheguy · 4 years

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Can you write a fic where either Eddie or Richie is trans and the other finds out? It might have some angst but my heart also needs fluff, and wouldn't mind some smut.

TRANS EDDIE TRANS EDDIE YES YES YES OKAY

Ahem- Yes, I will make a fic about this. Unfortunately, however, I cannot write smut for the life of me, so, here’s what I gots :))))

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“Eddieeee~! Eddie-Bear~! Eds, my love~!” Richie was teasing the small boy as the losers walked through the forest to their underground fort.

“Richie, I swear to fuck, I’m going to throw a rock at you.” Eddie grumbled.

“Wouldn’t be the first time a blunt object hit my ol’ noggin!” Richie retorted with a grin.

Stanley rolled his eyes from behind them. “That would explain a lot.” He grumbled.

“Hey!” Richie turned to him. “Might I remind you I get the best grades out of all of us??” He crossed his arms.

“Didn’t you also roll a plant, thinking it was a joint, smoked it, then got sick?” Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Wha- I thought we agreed to forget that!” He whined. Eddie just shrugged and kept walking.

Eventually they made it to the clubhouse and Eddie went straight to the hammock, but Richie beat him too it.

“Hey, fuckface, I was going to it first.” He glared at him.

“Too bad, Eds, I beat ya too it, ya hear?” He said with one of his terrible accents.

“God- Shut the hell up!” He said, hopping in the hammock and the two fought for space.

“Ow- Eddie, Move it!” Richie tried to kick him away.

“No! I got here first!” He kicked right back.

“Ugh- Fuck face I can see your vagina!” He said, obviously joking, but this struck a nerve for Eddie. He huffed and got up.

“Fine! Keep the fucking hammock!” He turned and stomped out. Richie blinked and sat up. “Huh? What was that?”

“Oh my god, Richie, what did you do?” Stanley crossed his arms.

“Dude! All I said was ‘I can see your vagina!’ Can a man not joke anymore??!” He huffed, crossing his arms and leaning back. Stanley blinked and exchanged a glance with Bev, Them being the only two (Aside from Bowers’ gang, unfortunately, who over heard it in a convo and were using it as blackmail of some sort.) who knows Eddie’s secret.

“Er- Bev, maybe you should go talk to him.” Stan said, nodding his head to the entrance. Beverly nodded.

“Right.” She muttered and went out. “Eddie?” She looked around and saw him sitting under a tree. She sighed and went over, sitting next to him.

“Hey, Eddie, You know he was only joking-”

“I fucking know, Bev.” He grumbled. “But it’s hard being on the receiving end. Especially when it’s him.” He looked down.

She frowned and she pat his back. “Yeah, Yeah I get it.” She muttered. “You aren’t getting dysphoria or anything, are you?”

“Oh, right now? Like a son of a bitch.” He looked down. “I should just call it a day...” He got up. “I’ll see you later.”

“...Alright, see you later.” She got up and gave him a quick hug.

Eddie walked back home, looking down, and kicking a can as he walked. “God fucking shit balls...” He grumbled.

“Ironic of a girl to talk about balls.” The familiar, yet terrifying voice came from behind him, making him freeze.

“I’m not a girl, Bowers.” Eddie turned to him slowly, only to get shoved back.

“Shut the hell up, you fucking freak.” He said with his normal harsh tone. “Fuck, fine, if you insist to much on being a man that you wouldn’t mind if I beat you up a little, huh?” He leaned down, grabbing Eddie by his hair.

“Ow- Bowers you ass let me go!” He yelled, trying to make him let go.

“No fucking way, fag!” He spit in his face and raised his fist to punch him, but Eddie kicked him in his, ahem, fragile spot. In a moment of weakness, Bowers let go and put his hand over his area, falling to his knees as Eddie scrambled up.

“A-And for the record, you’re no more a man then me!” He yelled, then turned and started running for his life. He soon heard the sound of Bowers chasing after him and fear filled his heart.

“Shit shit shit shit shit-” He was cut off when he bumped into someone. Someone he was absolutely not expecting.

“Eds! My man! I’ve been looking everywhere for you-”

“Oh- ohoho.” Bowers looked at the two and he grinned. “If it isn’t the Queer.” He grinned. “Come to save your freak girlfriend?” He cracked his knuckles.

“Shut the hell up, Bowers!” Eddie yelled, only to receive a kick to the head.

“Quiet, Tranny whore.” He growled and looked at Richie, who had immediantly knelt down to help Eddie.

“Stop it Bowers! Leave him the fuck alone!” He yelled.

“Stop pretending, fucking queer. We both know that’s a girl.” He growled.

“No he’s not!” Richie got up. “Trans-fucking-gender or not! He’s still Eddie! He’s more of a fucking man then you!” He yelled, the sudden urge of confidence bellowing from his chest. “So fuck off and go blow your dad or something!” He growled.

“Oh, That’s it you little shit-” He stepped forward to do something, but his father’s voice stopped him.

“What the hell is going on here, Henry?” The cop’s voice said. “Shouldn’t you be home, you fuckin’ pansy?” He crossed his arms.

“Y-Yessir...” Bowers quivered, turning and walking to his dad, and once he left Richie howled with laughter.

“Did you see his fucking face?? He looked like he was about to cry! What a fucking softy!” He laughed harder. “Eds, Eds, that guy is such a fucking ass, amirig-” He looked at Eddie and blinked when he saw him crying.

“Woah- Hey, Eds, What’s wrong?” He rushed down by his side and cupped his cheeks with his hands. “Look, I’m sorry for the vagina joke, I was just being stubborn-”

“It’s not that, you fucking moron!” He looked at him with wet eyes, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I’m scared! I’m scared of you!”

Richie blinked. “Wha- Huh? What did- What did I do-?”

“I’m scared you’ll hate me because I’m trans and that you’ll think differently! I don’t want to lose you because of something like this! I love you, idiot!” He started sobbing harder. Richie looked at his best friend in disbelief. Not disbelief because he was trans, no, disbelief because he thought Richie would ever feel that way about him.

“Eds...” He kneeled down and wrapped him in a hug. “I could never hate you...” He muttered. Eddie sobbed into his chest, not saying a word. “I love you too, You know...” He muttered. This made Eddie stop and look at him.

“R-Really...? Even though I’m...?”

“Even though you’re. It’s not a bad thing, Eds. It’s who you are. I will always, always love you for being who you are.” He rubbed his cheek softly. “You’re always gonna be ‘Eds, My love’, okay? I’m not leaving you because you’re trans.” He hugged Eddie close.

“O-Okay.” He smiled a bit to himself and he hugged him back. “I love you too...” He muttered. “Oh, and Richie?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Don’t fucking call me Eds.” Eddie grumbled, earning a laugh from Richie.

“Yeah, Sure thing, Eds.”

#reddie #richie tozier #richie trashmouth #eddie kasprak #eddie spaghetti #Trans pride #transgender

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thatsastretch · 5 years

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I'm not buying your answer re you always saying "Niall's doing fine." You don't seem enthusiastic, Niall stans don't seem enthusiastic. Niall stans don't even like his music. They're only hyped about NH2 because they're hoping it's not boring like Flicker, which they don't even like. I have never seen one (1) Niall stan say, gee I hope NH2 is like Flicker. Niall stans only like him for like 2 covers he did on tour. Your lack of passion for him shows. It's sad but I guess all he deserves.

I’m a 26 year old man. I’m not a gushing kind of guy. And, for the record, I LOVE Niall’s music. Why would we want another Flicker? We already got a Flicker. I’m expecting something different from him because he SAID he’s going to be doing something different. As an artist he should grow and change and evolve. I’ve never heard a Harry Styles fan say gee I hope HS2 is like self titled. I’ve liked him since This Town. I spent 5 years being a Harry fan and didn’t really have much use for the rest of 1D including Niall but I thought This Town was great. I thought Slow Hands was even better. I loved Flicker. I don’t know ONE Niall fan who only likes him for two covers he did on tour. I think you’re mistaking not being ott ridiculous for not being enthusiastic. I also have to measure what I say on THIS blog because if I’m overly enthusiastic the trolls lose their minds because I like both. Any and all gushing that gets done for Niall becomes some affront to Harry. I don’t have the luxury of being too excited for anything Niall on this blog without getting my inbox overrun with trolls yelling “fake fan” at me among other more vile things. The last time I paid him too many compliments I got called “fag boy” and “tranny” because no straight man likes Niall. So, excuse me if I exercise restraint.

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all-gorillaz-imagines · 7 years

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Could you do some murdocs kid coming out to him as trans/genderfluid because they got bullied at school and he kept demanding why they got in a fight so the break down and sort of yell at him

~ You knew your dad was an aggressive guy so when you came home with a busted lip and a bruised face, you knew he would ask questions. “Who the hell did this to you?!” Murdoc said as soon as he saw you. “I’ll fucking kill those little punks for touching my kid!” He grabbed your shoulders and asked, “Tell me who did this!” You looked away and sighed, “Just some assholes at school, it’s not that big of a deal.” You pushed your dad off but he kept pushing. “Tell me how fucking hurt you! No one has any right to hurt you! They’re gonna have to go through me.” he growled and stared at you, waiting for an answer.

~ “Dad, stop worrying about it! You of all people should know that shit just happens!” You threw your bag down. Murdoc was a bit shocked by how defensive you were getting but his anger boiled because no one, absolutely NO ONE was going to get away with hurting you like this. “Shit doesn’t just happen, kid! I instigated most of those stupid fights I got in! It was my own fuckin’ fault!” You growled at your dad and threw your hands up, “I’m just like you so I guess it was my fault for being a fucking tranny! It’s my fault for being a fucking queer, a fag! I am your child after all so that must mean I’m just like you!” You were panting at this point. You had realized what you had said when you saw the look at Murdoc’s face.

~ “What did you say?” He whispered. You looked at the floor and picked up your bag. “Dad… I’m transgender.” You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, preparing for whatever hell would be unleashed. But what came next wasn’t what you expected. Murdoc pulled you close to him and hugged you tightly. You felt quite shocked. You didn’t know how to react. “I will always love and support you no matter what you do. You should have told me sooner so we could get you to a doctor to get what you need to make a full, healthy transition.” Murdoc kissed your temple and released you from his hug. Your jaw hung and you couldn’t believe your ears. “Wha- are you serious?” You whisper-yelled. “Of course I’m serious! No child of mine will be stuck in a body they hate! But I still need the names of those kids who beat you, I’m going to make them wish they were never born.” Tears filled your eyes as you ran over to your dad and hugged him. “You’re the best dad in the world, I love you so fucking much.” Murdoc wrapped his arms around you and whispere, “I love you so fucking much, too.”

#gorillaz #gorillaz imagine #murdoc niccals #dad murdoc

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muirin · 7 years

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I’m So Confused

I’m trying really hard to figure out what I am. I’m bad with labels, and I’ve never been good at self-discovery, finding myself, or any of that. I’ve just kinda been me, and life just floats through me like a fog. It happens, and I make decisions, and I go where I go without thinking too hard about what it all means. That all changed a few months ago, and now I find myself stuck, wondering who and what I am, with no introspective skills to really figure it all out.

Things I definitely know: I cross-dress and I love it. I really like who I see in the mirror/camera when I’m dressed in traditionally female clothing and makeup. For brevity’s sake, I’m just gonna call this “dressed like a woman” because yes, I get that anyone can wear anything, regardless of gender and all, but I hope you’ll give me the benefit of the doubt. I’m frightened by what all this could mean for my family life.

Things I think I know: I think I feel, deep down, more feminine when I’m dressed like a woman. I’m pretty sure I do. I feel like people who are androgynous slide in my perception toward the male side of the spectrum, or at least the “more male than me” side of the spectrum when I’m dressed like a woman.

Things I don’t know: What this means. What to call myself. What to do.

Here’s some history.

I don’t remember ever having dramatic, crushing, born-in-the-wrong-body crises when I was little, like the folks who write the articles about being trans. I do remember playing with my sister’s toys, and having no problem with doing so, but it was usually when I was playing with my sister. It didn’t get any kind of attention. Positive, or negative.

I remember trying on my sister’s bras. I’d fish them out of the hamper, stuff them with socks, and look at myself. It just felt like a thing. There were no revelations from the sky. No deep conclusions that “This is who I’m supposed to be.” It was just a thing. I always figured it was something everyone did. Thank goodness I never told anyone about it.

I got bullied a lot, especially in grade school. They called me by a feminine version of my name. Even my neighborhood friend called me ‘fag’. I remember it hurting. It makes me wonder now if this bullying caused me to push things down. To deny any kinds of feelings of femininity for fear of more ridicule. I don’t know.

I remember my sister coming out as gay in high school. I remember it being a big explosion in my house. I remember her stealing my hoodies to cover up her body. I remember being really angry about it. I remember her bout with anorexia. I remember not feeling much about that at all. I don’t think I understood the seriousness of it. I was still, frankly, pissed at her for being so terrible to me through high school.

I remember being in my 20s and being envious of women’s clothes. Mostly for the variety and choice of it. Women can wear flats or heels or sneakers or boots. Women can wear jeans or capris or shorts or skirts or dresses. I wanted that kind of variety. I was stuck in jeans, tee shirts, and hoodies in the real world, and khakis and polos in shitty retail jobs. And now I’m doubting whether or not it was about variety so much as the clothes themselves.

In my early 30s, I experimented with cross-dressing once. I knew nothing. I bought a bra and some makeup and a skirt and a tight shirt . I put on a silly blue wig I got at a Halloween store and took pictures of myself with an ancient webcam. I posted the photos to an anonymous message board, and was mocked mercilessly. I shouldn’t have expected any better from the internet. I put all those things in a bag and into a drawer and forgot about them for a long time.

I learned on a halloween one year that a friend of mine was a frequent cross-dresser. I thought “Good for him”, and had trouble figuring out what pronouns to use when. I didn’t even think about the clothes in my drawer.

I got married. I married a wonderful woman who made me feel good and safe and loved. I didn’t tell her about the cross dressing, though. Partly because I’d pushed it away, partly cuz it felt shameful.

I used the word “tranny” in front of my sister, and she got really angry. She had to explain why. I told her I used it because it’s what my friend’s wife calls him, because he cross-dresses. My sister explained why that’s not cool. I took it to heart, and never used that word again.

I got a little bit involved in a local kink scene. It’s nice. There are ups and downs, some made and broken relationships, but generally, it’s good. Kink stuff could be a whole other post full of history, so I’ll leave it there.

I joined an online community that fostered fantasies of bodily transformation. Being things that you weren’t or couldn’t be. Silly, cartoonish stuff, really. The internet brings crazy fandoms and common interests together. There was a disproportionate number of trans people there. I fostered an emotional relationship with someone there who presented themselves as a female. Then, one day, she told me she decided to present male instead. I was crushed, and called it off.

I began to get the suspicion that my cross-dressing friend was more than just a cross-dresser. She slowly stopped using her male facebook, and almost exclusively used her female facebook. When I think about her now, it’s always with her girl name. I say she/her when I’m talking about her.

My sister came out to me as trans. I now have a brother. I wasn’t shocked. I didn’t mourn. I was mostly worried about how this would blow up with my parents. It did. I thought to myself that my brother’s a lot cooler than my sister ever was. I figure that 30-something years of actively hiding who you are can wear on you and make me angry. In my head, nothing snapped into place. I didn’t even think of my probably-trans friend. I didn’t think of my online community. I didn’t think of the clothes in the corner of my drawer.

I decided to try on a female voice/name online. Nothing really changed. Everyone was just as nice and open and welcoming as they were before. Nobody treated me differently. They just called me a new name. I flipped between male and female voices. Probably half and half at the beginning, and slowly started sliding toward always-female. It was nice. I thought to myself that maybe people were nicer to me when I was presenting female. I couldn’t be sure.

My kid was born. A fantastic little kid.

I found a “main” kink top. She’s (still) amazing. The relationship grew very fast, and neither of us handled it well. It caused a lot of problems, and my marriage took a bad turn. We went to couples therapy. My wife felt like I was hiding things from her. I kind of was. I admitted it, smashed the brakes on the kink relationship, and things are getting better.

My friend is definitely trans, and even when she’s presenting male, I call her ‘lady’ and her chosen female name and I always tell stories about her, not him. She announced that her cosplay photographer wants to do a just-for-fun photo shoot, and anyone’s welcome. I asked her to help me dress up like a girl for some photos, and she agreed to help. She walked me through the steps of doing my makeup, loaned me some body parts (okay, boobs) and a wig. When I looked in the mirror, I said “I love you.” That’s not something I’ve ever done. It felt like a big deal.

Things started moving fast at about this point. It’s still so foggy and disorganized and confusing in my head.

My trans friend asked if the cross-dressing is a kink thing or an identity thing or what, and I tell her I don’t know. She insists that I do some thinking about it, and let her know. I did some thinking and I let her know that it’s somewhere fuzzy and in-between. It’s not just a kink thing. The thrill wasn’t a sexual thing. It wasn’t for my top so much as it was for me. It was an “I like who I see in the mirror thing”, but I was nowhere near any kind of “This is who I should be.” She got kind of cold and business-like in her reply, and essentially boiled it down to “I can’t help you with that. You should talk to your therapist.”

I did talk to my therapist, and to a close friend or two. The consensus is that it’s okay to be unsure and foggy and somewhere in-between.

I explained to a confidant that sometimes when I’m “attracted” to a woman I see on the street, it’s not because I want to have sex with her. It’s because “I want to just, like, steal her body and be in it.” She got what I meant, and understood that it wasn’t some kind of weird Buffalo Bill sort of thing.

I loved the photos from the shoot, and couldn’t stop looking at them. I shared them with my online friends, and they all said very nice things. I spent a bunch of christmas money on makeup and silicone boobs and a wig and clothes. I told my wife about it, and it was bad. In trying to explain my state of mind, I told her about the female voice I used online. It didn’t help. I didn’t have any words to make things right. To make her understand.

To her, this was just the latest surprise, and she wondered if it would ever end. She wondered about other things I could be hiding. She wondered if I’d ever stop ‘looking for more than I have.’ I told her I don’t know. We did a lot of work in therapy. Things got better, but it was hard and it left a deep mark. It made me very reluctant to talk about this stuff with her any more. Mostly for fear of damaging our relationship or straining things more. I really don’t like conflict.

I started trying on makeup and dresses and skirts more often when I had random free time. I was temporarily unemployed for a while, so I had a lot of free time. I shot a bunch of selfies and liked them. I shared with my friends online, and they still had nice things to say. It made me feel good.

This brings us to about the present. Where I am now. It’s probably even less organized.

I’m not androgynous. Getting even barely close to ‘passing’ is a lot of hard work, but I feel like that work pays off.

When I walk through the city, I look at women in their clothes, and I still feel a lot of envy. I want to be able to wear what they wear, but I know that most of the outfits I like wouldn’t flatter me. On good days, I see the girls who have narrower hips and broader shoulders, and I think “I could pull that off.” On bad days, I dwell on the fact that I’m built very much like a dude. I’ve read the fashion guides for the “wedge” body shape. Angelina Jolie, right? Sleeveless is out. Pencil skirts are out. Sleeves and A-lines are in. Otherwise, I’d just end up looking silly and top-heavy. The bad days are really hard.

I practice my “girl walk” when I walk through the gay part of town.

I try to imagine being out and about while dressed like a woman. It’s exciting and terrifying.

I contemplate my penis sometimes. I wonder if I’d be better off without it. I wonder if I’m just thinking that because I should.

I still don’t know what I am, or what to do about any of this. I don’t know if I’m trans. I’m pretty sure I’m some flavor of queer, but I don’t know if I’m bigender or genderfluid or some other thing.

I don’t know if I’m just latching onto what I think is the group of “cool kids” in my circle of friends who happen to be queer, and I’m trying to be more like them. More accepted by them.

I can’t tell if I’m mentally recoiling at all of the backlash that white straight cis-guys are getting, and this is my way of shying away from that group.

I can’t tell if fear of losing my family, my wife and child, are making me think around the things, and making me deny things, or if these feelings are really not there.

I don’t know if I just feel like I’m ugly and I think girls are prettier, and since I want to be prettier, then I guess I should be a girl. There’s more I don’t know than I do at this point.

I don’t have any kind of conclusion, beside just typing it out, shouting it out to the world, and trying to make sense of another day.

I’m so confused.

#trans #amitrans #amiqueer #queer #questioning #crossdressing #transgender #nonbinary #mtf

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