I'm panicking because i was about to come out to my fam but everyone is coming out of the woodworks as super transphobic right now. Basically what I'm saying is, can you give us some trans Bart? Maybe a coming out story that ends well because I need something happy right about now
I’ve got you fam, and I’m sorry shit’s going down. I hope you’re safe, and that if you do decide to come out to anyone in your family that it goes well. Above all else, try to stay safe. This turned out on the long side, but I hope this helps.
Bart was pacing. This wasn’t good. This was so not good. He’d thought things had been moded when Jaime was on mode and he’d been worrying that despite everything he’d done that things would go the way they had in his original time. But things had been stopped, Jaime had gotten off mode, the Reach had been driven off-planet, it was good! Except now it wasn’t.
Wally was dead. That hurt in the worst way. Especially since Wally originally hadn’t died until Bart was 8. Bart had already had several breakdowns over that fact, but this… This was just one more blow. The unique blend of hormone-suppressors and testosterone that he’d cut down to half-doses since about a week after he’d arrived in this time was getting close to running out. Being a speedster, he needed the low level of testosterone— well, low level for him— in order to push his body in the right direction. Some speedsters developed at a ‘normal’ pace; for others it was like puberty hit them like a truck (from what older-Wally had told Bart, that had been the case with him), so Bart hadn’t been willing to risk it. The half-doses had at least made his supply last longer, but Bart couldn’t deny the fact that he wasn’t completely flat-chested anymore. The idea of what that development foreshadowed was like a nightmare. He stopped his pacing and dropped to sit beside his bed to look his supply over again.
“Four… Five… Damn it!” he hissed as he counted out the remaining half-doses. There were fifteen small circular containers in all, almost like small pill-cases— not ideal for holding his hormones, but it was all that the resistance had been able to pull together that had an air-tight seal to safely contain his hormone supply— and most of them were empty. A little over five, not quite enough for six doses, likely due to having been in a small panic when he’d originally reorganized his supply. Memories of the small spill caused by his shaking hands haunted him. He couldn’t go through having a period. He couldn’t.