Chapter Text
CODES:
Y/N - YOUR NAME
D/N - DEAD NAME
E/C - EYE COLOUR
H/C - HAIR COLOUR
T/N - TOWN NAME
C/N - COUNTRY NAME
P/N - PARENT NAME
G/P - GENERAL PRACTICE
BEGINNING
YOUR POV...
I guess this is... Me. Hi! My name is y/n. Yes, I... guess it's an uncommon name! Hah... But it's me, and that's why I chose it. You might be wondering how I named myself.... Well, to put it kind of simply, I'm... Trans. Yeah, I'm y/n the 'slur boy,' that's what they all call me. My mom doesn't even call me by my real name- she calls me D/N. I might as well call her by her name: Yolanda.
Yolanda is more like the Lady Of The House- always forcing me to cook meals for the entire family, and cut their hair, iron their clothes, do the washing and the cleaning and the gathering of herbs to create potions. She makes me take pilgrimages to the center of Arizona (many miles away from my home, C/N, T/N) just to get her special eyebrow wax. My father- p/n- just sits there and reads his copy of 'Republican's Weekly,' and my half siblings- Michael/Michelle (Midoriya) and Fidel/Fidella (Castro)- beat me with a broomstick for sport, watching me scurry back up the fireplace to hide away in my bedroom from them.
Today was my nineteenth birthday, and I was ready to begin my chores. Luckily, today my petite form- standing only at 3'2, with a waist of 00.0001 inches- just had to go to the grocery store and negotiate 60% of their stock down to (£1 in your currency), and carry it all home upon my tiny dainty back, my h/c hair thrown up into a tiny messy bun. Since I cut my hair short, the messy bun had been (thanfully) hard to achieve, but I was banned from sharp objects.... So my hair was growing again.
"No child of mine will become a dirty (f slur) (t slur)!!" Yolanda yelled, as my siblings hit me with the dusty broom, smoke made up of soot and dust unfurling around me like smoke. I cried that day...
Just as I'd slipped my rollerblades onto my dainty size 000000.00000000001 toesies, Yolanda burst in through the doorway- because my door had been consumed by the termites....
My head stayed bowed, eyes cast to the floor in fear. Tense- all of my muscles had tensed like coiled springs ready to boing free. Sweat beaded upon my nom existent brow. Somehow I knew something bad was to come. The silence was so thick that you'd have to use a hacksaw to cut through it.
"D/N," Yolanda barked, her thick Scottish accent booming through the tiny confines of my room. Or rather... my cell.
"Get up now. I have a surprise for you."
The sweat upon my brow dripped. Surely it.... couldn't be too bad? Right? I often underestimated mother... And I hadn't moved quickly enough! My e/c orbs widened as she yanked me upwards by my h/c raggedy hair, launching me down the spiral staircase with monstrous ease, as if I were as light as a feather and built like a javelin.
"AURGH!" I screamed in my LGBTQ voice.
But... I landed against something- or, rather, someone- that was soft. A firm wall of muscle... He smelled of sandalwood and mint, and it was sure that he worked out. I didnt dare look up yet, not at this adonis of a man, carved from the very sunlight that God graced the earth with. The being that skibidi toilet only wished he could be. Fawned over, surely, always in his merry band of six. A big hand- big like the boat that'd caress the ocean so softly- ran through my messy hair, causing my wide e/c orbs to daintily and nervously look up. Beautiful brown locks of masculine energy framed his perfect symmetrical face, two dimples accompanying that... charming grin.
"Ello luv," Harry chuckled.
"Looks likeh yer gunna be accompanying me far away luv."
There was a beat of stunned silence, I opened my mouth only to shut it again like a goldfish with beautiful stunning e/c orbs that caught the low light like e/c fire...
"I sold you to Harry. Hopefully he can cure your (t slur) (f slur) (r slur) ways," Yolanda quipped, her tone snide and mean. Michael/Michelle and Fidel/Fidella could be heard heavily breathing from the living room doorway, their talons sharp and ready to strike...
It was just then that Harry's godly laugh rang through the hallway like a heavenly chime- causing my demented and evil siblings to shriek and scatter. I couldn't see Yolanda's confused expression, or that Harry had pulled a Glock 19 G series out. All I heard was the 'pow pow,' and all that I felt was the rickshaw of the gun's blast. I curled up against Harry's muscular chest as Yolanda melted into a puddle of green goo. She was Elphaba all along.
"Don't worry, baba gril," Harry whispered tenderly into my ear.
"Yer safe wiv me now darling, innit."
And, just like that, he scooped me up and took me away to his stretched limousine. I guess my family was gone- and I felt... sad. Eventhough they were terrible, they were still like Gordon Ramsay is to the kitchen. Irreplaceable. Needed. But... Now I had Harry. I guess this was like HRT- but instead of my hormones being replaced, it was... Harry replacing my family. To be continued...