#if i squint hard enough they’re trans | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

banamine-bananime · 2 months

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just listing some of my headcanons (mostly appearance/demographics) because i like listing things and i’m procrastinating hard

caboose - 18-19 in 2552. went straight from hs graduation to basic to sim training to blood gulch. he was gonna do a program where the UNSC provides a hefty scholarship for completion of an engineering degree with a few years of service upon graduation, but got enlisted instead through a combination of paperwork being confusing for bureaucratic nonsense reasons, paperwork being confusing for deliberate predatory we-need-as-many-people-for-cannon-fodder-as-possible reasons, and him being confused by any paperwork. 6'7”, ~250 lb, very muscular and not thin but not quite chubby either, very mixed but mostly latino and arabic ethnicities, thick fluffy 3A chin-length dark brown hair that's always in his eyes, round face with cute fuzzy eyebrows and aquiline nose. him and tucker (and kinda donut and perhaps sarge) are the only motherfuckers here with a stable happy childhood. uses-no-specific-label queer cis dude.

church - we know church is 5 in blood gulch lol but it think he thought he was like 23-ish/jimmy was around that age. in jimmy's body, 5'10, ~230 lb, chubby and "normal" level of muscularity for someone who has a somewhat active job but doesn't work out much, untidy thick straight black hair that's like 2" grown-out from a buzz, face passably similar to the director if you squint but not really (e.g. shorter/squarer face, eyes hazel instead of stupidly light green). epsilon projects a similar bodytype but would probably default to a young-director-ish face if he had to make one. i think he would at some point consciously change it around if he were doing a face with any regularity. bisexual and nonbinary and will probably never fully acknowledge it but she can have some pronouns as a treat (from tex or in her own internal monologue) sometimes.

tucker - 18-19 in 2552. went straight from hs graduation to basic to sim training to blood gulch. enlisted because he was a “fuck around without any motivation or particular goals in life” kind of teenage dirtbag who was like “oh hey predatory recruiters absolutely dominating every career fair in Covenant-war-era earth. i’ve heard being in the military is very sexy and exciting and makes you a chick magnet so sure sign me up”. 5’4”, ~110 lb scrawny guy in blood gulch -> ~135 still pretty skinny but more muscular later. 4C hair with a grown-out buzz from basic in blood gulch becoming locs when it's long enough. *takes you by the shoulders very seriously* repeat after me, his eyes are BROWN. and the only acceptable other option is when they’re turning gray as in a body horror way, gray as in your body becoming something uncanny to you, gray as in the horribly blinding cold light of unfathomably vast stars lightyears away from anything you’ve ever known (read lazarus left the tomb btw. treat yourself). very handsome face in a boy-next-door-looks-very-sweet-until-he-opens-his-mouth kinda way. an only child or had like one older sibling he wasn’t very close to by the time he enlisted. i think of him as a bi cis guy but i enjoy trans hcs.

kai - 20 in 2552. 5’2”, ~200 lb, fat and top-heavy hourglass and broadset. a little muscular (it’s not immediately obvious) as she was always athletic and basic training helped, but she’s made more for endurance (body by “dancing 7 hours and walking home across town drunk and sleep-deprived”) than strength. thick upper-back-length black 2C hair that she sometimes dyes streaks in or ombre (usually brown highlights but she mixes it up). broad face and nose, big adorable eyebrows, life-endingly cute eyes and smile. alternates between no-makeup all-leg-hair realness, and full femme glam for funsies with 5 sets of fake eyelashes trying to take flight (at least three of them are inevitably going to be Just Fucking Gone by some point in the party). pansexual ipsogender intersex gal (tbh the original reason i headcanoned her having mosaic turner’s is the colorblindess [x-linked recessive traits are rarely gonna show up if you have 2 X chromsomes vs having one, so i was like, “hey her retinas could be some of her XO tissues, and with mosaicism, fertility isn’t uncommon, so it doesn’t contradict her having had abortions”] and then years later i thought about it harder and was like wait she has achromatopsia and that’s autosomal. biology nerd fail moment. but anyways she’s intersex.)

tex - her body is modelled after allison aged 33 (when she died), but bigger stronger faster idealized-by-memory-and-wanting-her-to-be-invincible-to-the-point-of-looking-more-like-she’s-on-gear-and-photoshop-than-a-natural-body. 6’2”, body looks like ~220 lb of muscle and low-body-fat (but not like, cut for bodybuilding competition level of low-body-fat), but being made largely metal, she is heavier. whereas allison was like 5’9”, 170 lb, serious-crossfit-competitor kind of build but nowhere near as built as tex. face looks very similar to allison but just… weirdly airbrushed look and looks… sharper. harsher features. more intimidating. but she’s got this crooked smile that looks kinda like a smug smirk but also like she’s not laughing at you exactly, she’s just vibing with you and the inherent comedy of the absurdity of life. but when she’s Not Smiling it's the kind of expression you start backing away from expeditiously. i think of her having shoulder-length hair she wears in a ponytail but i do love short-hair tex dearly. gnc butch gay/bi (mostly attracted to women, uses both labels) cis woman who uses any pronouns.

wash - around 31? in 2552 (would put him being recruited to pfl at about 26 which feels right for being able to slide into the Goofy Innocent Rookie role but also plausibly have achieved a pretty high non-commissioned officer rank). 5’6” -155 lb, functional muscle with a build in-between lean and stocky (“otter” as a label keeps coming to mind). i don’t have a super settled facecanon but picture him as either white or mixed white and east asian. he has not changed his bleach-blonde crewcut since he was 17 and the shock of allowing himself to change it now might kill him. gay ace trans man.

carolina - 29 in 2552 (actually the youngest among the high-ranking freelancers. she would kill (jk) to protect this secret). she did the whole 4 year military academy to commissioned officer training thing and had a couple years of normal UNSC service before unfortunately getting wrapped up in her dad’s mad science pet project. 5’8”, ~150 lb, leanly muscular. i think of her having natural red hair she dyes bright red but i love a black-haired carolina too. we’ve seen her face. straight trans woman (transitioned as a preteen). i know, i wanted her to be in the wlw club, too. unfortunately every time i try shipping her with a woman she’s like “meh. thinking about my weird khaki man.” and i’m like oh. sorry about that affliction.

sarge - 62 (?) in 2552. 5’6”, ~200 lb, stocky and solidly muscular barrel-chested slight-beer-gut old dude. chinese-american. if you somehow catch him without his helmet he’s got wraparound reflective shades so good luck ever seeing his face (he’ll tell you it’s classified). another eternal crewcut guy but his is shorter than wash’s. bi and definitely a robofucker tbh. he is cis or trans depending on what’s funnier in any given circumstance.

grif - 24 in 2552. worked in honolulu a couple years after hs graduation until kai was old enough (17) he felt he could leave. did a year at university before realizing he’s smart enough to be admitted to cornell but not to get the scholarship he realistically needs to not be in crushing debt on graduation and also there’s not nearly enough regimentation to college life to prevent him from rotting in bed paralyzed by Problems. went through basic and stationed on the doomed outpost. that Whole Thing happened and he was reassigned to sim troopers. 5’8”, ~300 lb, fat and a little bit strong against his will from an involuntarily active job (he has valiantly resisted picking up cardiovascular conditioning. he works very hard on unfitness). he’s kinda cute in a “hasn’t washed his face in 5 days and his peachfuzz/stubble patches combo is very uneven but you caught him smiling for 2 seconds and oh no it was VERY charming” way. thick 2C dark-brown hair that’s a few inches long, wears it longer later. gay trans guy (because his little sister is named “younger sibling of the same gender” so like… also lmfao how unfortunate for kai that her name, which she did not choose, misgenders her big brother. like 😭 god it is very on the grif siblings brand of “hello so the circumstances we have been put in mean that my existence [kai]/how i have to leave you here to protect my own sanity [grif] is actively making your life much harder. i am ashamed of this, let us never communicate about it ever. i love you so much.”)

simmons - 23 in 2552. tried to do university several times and had to drop out for mental health reasons (a very polite way of putting “rapid spiral into absolute disaster every time”. it leaves room for giving him the benefit of the doubt that this was a proactive “ah i should take care of myself and this is not working for me :) #selfcare #therapy” decision. this is not benefit of the doubt that anyone who knows him would extend.). I go back and forth on whether to roll with the “suspiciously specific denial of being in a unit that was stranded and had to eat their dog to survive” thing or just say he was assigned straight to sim troopers. 5’11”, ~160 lb, wirey build and has to be standing at attention or else he holds himself so awkwardly. i pretty much go with the Standard Ginger Simmons Fanon Face but light brown hair also feels right and i think his hair should be very short. i really like when people draw his prosthetics very industrial/bare mechanical frame not trying to imitate biological form, just whatever’s functional. Red circle eye, hell yeah. bi and i used to firmly believe “this guy has to be cis because there is NO WAY he would have the hutzpah and willingness to put self-authenticity over doing what he’s Supposed To Do. we’ve seen how he deals with anxiety. he would just be white-knuckling his way through dysphoria to this day” HOWEVER i have really come around to trans simmons

donut - 19-20 in 2552. i see him taking a gap year or two to work on the farm and think about what he wants to do with his life (not productively introspecting on his deeper desires in life and what would allow him to fulfill them, god no, of course not. daydreaming unrealistically. obviously.) before enlisting. i think his upbringing was fairly happy but kinda weird and a bit insular within a small community of some Beliefs and possibly homeschooled. not like exactly Fundie Christian America as you might assume with that background; american subcultures have changed enough over 500 years that this is one of many totally unrecognizable to us. like it has some roots in Fundie Christianity and homesteading-from-a-weird-reactionary-tradfamily-can’t-trust-the-gubernment-place and some in Hippie-dippiness Spirituality, not-actually-a-cult-but-sometimes-you’ll-hear-him-say-things-he-thinks-are-normal-and-you’re-like-ummmmmmmm. (Idek how that headcanon started. i think i was just like so how DO you build a guy like donut). he’s 5’10”, ~185 lb, sturdy build, i don’t think people would consider him chubby but definitely not thin. his face and hair looks like he should be on a 1960s white america boyscouts poster but like, goofy about it. i think of him being mostly white but some latino heritage he’s curious about but was not raised connected to (hence wanting to learn spanish). acearospec and gay (he’s like…. mostly asexual and aromantic but it’s complicated. he is barely aware of being gay let alone ace or aro. he just fully makes up what he thinks sexual attraction and romance are and assigns it to random feelings/experiences). cis dude or nonbinary.

#alexa send post #rvb #rvb headcanons

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cr-noble-writes · 5 months

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Title: Vicissitude Series: Virtue and Volatility Fandom: Mass Effect Rating: Mature Characters: Jackson Shepard, Garrett Coats, Warren Mills (OMC), Steven Hackett Relationships: mShepard/Coats Tags: pre-canon, Elysium, The Blitz, canon-typical violence, implied sexual content, Outsider POV, PTSD, Drinking, trans male Shepard, renegade Shepard Word Count: 7171

Summary: Vicissitude- a variation in circumstances or fortune. Elysium, the Blitz, and choices that change the course of Jackson Shepard’s life.

Notes: So, Jackson is a study in contradictions, and even more than in Verisimilitude, I discovered while writing this fic how god damn difficult in can be to demonstrate the emotional state of a guy who flat out refuses to be aware of his own emotional state lol

Anyway, I hope you enjoy learning more about Jackson. I enjoyed writing this, even the darkest bits. Also, I’ve done a thing I don’t normally do, which is attach a song to each chapter because they’re just songs that I hard associated with the chapter while I was writing it. I’ll be putting them in the chapter notes as I post.

Just like Verisimilitude, this fic is complete, and I’ll be posting once a week on. It is important to note that while I don’t have any *super* detailed descriptions of what happens, this fic does have some darker themes.

Thank you to @rotschopf-thedrow for batting this around with me constantly for the last like… month and for alpha reading for me! And thank you to @ad-astra13 for beta reading for me <e

Special thanks to @swaps55, @bioticbooty @mallaidhsomo for helping me flesh out some of my ideas!

Read Chapter 4 Here

Excerpt:

Batarian trucks, as it turns out, aren’t that different from human ones. If he had a better omnitool, Jackson might be able to control the vehicle remotely. As it is, all he can really do is prime the eezo core and cut the brakes so the pirates can’t stop it. He grabs the frame and pulls himself under, the orange glow of the ‘tool illuminating the dust particles that kick up from the road beneath him. Dad had always been a stickler about repairing and maintaining his own equipment. Back home, they’d worked on vehicles in one of the hangars in the docking bay. It was a lot easier to get into a truck’s guts from underneath when he had access to an industrial lift. And a well-lit workspace. Jackson debates turning up the brightness of the ‘tool so he can stop squinting. They’re close enough to the encampment that even squished between the truck and the dirt, too much light will alert any patrolling guards to their position. He runs his fingers along an expanse of metal. If you pull this panel, you can access the port to drain the transmission and the brake lines. Dad had held Jackson up so he could do it himself because he was too short to reach. Using the stepladder leaning against the nearby workbench had never crossed his mind. The panel pops off silently. If nothing else, the pirates maintain their equipment well. He feels for the hydraulic lines, wrapping a finger around them to pull them down for easier access. Having small hands is great for this kind of thing. His knife—meticulously and regularly sharpened—makes quick work of them, and he has to slide to one side to avoid a face full of brake fluid. Another panel gives him direct access to the small eezo core. At least he can see inside this compartment. A few hastily written lines of code later, Jackson replaces the panel and works his way out from under the truck. In a pinch, use whatever you have. It doesn’t have to be pretty; it just has to work. His father had been talking about repairs, but the same is true of sabotage.

#vicissitude #virtue and volatility #jackson shepard #garrett coats #elysium #the blitz #mass effect #renegade shepard #trans male shepard #shepard/coats #chapter update #OTP: the crow & the butterfly #cr noble writes

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marinabays · 1 year

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[M/M] [Sex Work] [Overstim] [Dirty Talk]

Jenny is sitting back in the wicker café chair, looking every bit the relaxed retiree she is. She looks tan. She looks good. She’s squinting at Lee’s phone, because it will be a fair few years before she admits she needs reading glasses, one leg folded over the other, bouncing her foot around with such lazy enthusiasm that Lee worries she’ll kick her cappuccino off the table. Lee thinks Jenny could still be infamous, charging S1,000 for an hour of her time, if she wanted to.

Then again, youth sells was one of the first slivers of advice Lee had managed to pry out of Jenny, after he’d sworn up and down that he was going to go into this line of work no matter what, with Jenny’s blessing or without it. “A lot of these guys are looking for something new. Their lives, their wives, their first-class trans-Atlantic flights, it’s all old hat. You get to be the shiny new thing on the block.” Countless people looking to break into the industry must have solicited help from Jenny over the years. Lee still hasn’t wrapped his head around why Jenny sees potential in him in particular.

But Lee likes being shiny. Likes being appreciated, desired, noticed, scouted. This isn’t the least logical career choice he could be making.

“Your site looks good. Who’d you hire to do it?” Jenny asks, incredulous.

Lee tries not to look too pleased. He knows it looks good. It’s got SEO coming out of its ass, too, but that’s all hidden. “I did it myself, ‘s not that hard. What do you think about the photos?”

“They’re nice.” Jenny zooms in with two fingers, considering. “Tasteful. In my day you paywalled anything racier than underwear shots, but these days all bets are off.”

“Did those myself too.” All it took was a secondhand DSLR, a couple of ring lights, and a bootleg copy of Lightroom.

“You’ve got a full bio, gallery, wishlist, and services page, and you haven’t even had a client yet?”

Lee crosses his arms in front of him, tucks his chin into the neck of his hoodie. “With how much you’re telling me to charge, I can’t have anyone realizing this is my first go ‘round. Everyone wants a virgin but no one wants an amateur.”

“Hey, don’t quote me at me,” Jenny warns, but he looks fond. “Please tell me you’re at least not planning on dressing like this.” She looks Lee up and down. Her evaluation of Lee’s dress sense is obvious.

“I’ve got nice clothes,” Lee protests. They’ve all still got the tags on, but he was going to make sure he tried them on before his first booking. He’d just been really busy.

Jenny is unconvinced, but she doesn’t say it. She just smiles over the lip of her coffee, looking satisfied with the execution of her mentorly duties.

“Here,” she says, and reaches under her chair. She brings out an expensive-looking shopping bag, the kind of thing Lee wouldn’t dream of touching on his student budget. “I know it’s just going to end up on the floor, but I can’t have any protegé of mine wearing something that came from Target.”

Lee wants to argue, but he’s gone all in on being cheeky, not rude. He’s already taking Jenny’s time, mentorship, advice, and gifts. He doesn’t need to try her patience as well. “Thank you.”

Jenny waves him off. “Don’t worry about it. Just promise me you’ll be safe, alright? Remember the basics? You’re your own best friend when you’re out there. Just— keep your head on straight, yeah?”

Lee nods but if he’s being honest he’s thinking more about how much he’d like to be like Jenny, when he gets to be that old. Jenny’s got croissant crumbs down her blouse and doesn’t seem bothered by it. She’s embodying a kind of unselfconscious ease that has been totally alien to Lee’s twenty-one years on earth. But maybe he can be like that one day. Maybe once enough people tell him he’s beautiful in cold, hard cash.

⁂

The guy’s “name” is Andrew, and apparently he’s a cheapskate because he only books an hour-long session. Still, the message is the most exciting email Lee’s received since his college acceptance.

He tells Jenny the time and place and makes plans to check in five minutes after the session is meant to end. The check-in and a can of pepper spray in his backpack are all he has in terms of safety, a fact which only really sinks in once he exits the elevator and is finally alone in the silent, extravagantly carpeted hotel hallway.

It all feels a bit surreal. He’d asked himself a million times if he was really ready for this and made sure the answer was an emphatic yes. He’d thought about it for so long, planned it down to the millimeter. But he still has to focus on the things that remind him that this isn’t a daydream: touching the silky lining of the sharply cut blazer Jenny bought him, checking the Signal notifications on his phone, running his finger over the condom packet in his back pocket to make sure that it’s still there. There’s probably never been a more important time to think with his head and not his dick, but he’s already half-hard in these new paint-on jeans.

Eventually, he just stuffs his headphones into his bag and tries to focus instead on not obviously blushing, on not thinking too much about how good it felt to finger himself open in the shower before he left, on not accidentally knocking on the wrong room.

Andrew is wearing an oversized tie-dye t-shirt when he opens the door. The floor behind him is covered in discarded clothes, and the air is thick with herbal steam from the shower. “Hiya, Gordon?”

Lee tilts his head in a way that he hopes comes across more as an interested coquette than puzzled bird. “Hey, Andrew? Can I come in?”

Lee had expected older. A lot older. Andrew seems youthful at least. On the inquiry form he had unhelpfully listed his occupation as traveling businessman, but with his tattoos, he looks more like a lifestyle influencer. He’s got a smile big enough for YouTube, beckoning Lee into the room like they’re old friends and not strangers. “Sorry about the—er—everything. Travel lifestyle, you know how it is.”

Lee hasn’t traveled in years, but his website still has a Fly Me To You section. He glances at the dresser. There’s a heavy, expensive-looking watch laying on its side next to an unmarked envelope. Just where he asked for it. It’s odd to think that he’s set the rules of the interaction before they’re even met, but he supposes that’s the point. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve seen worse.”

He should really, really count the money first. Another winning piece of rookie advice from Jenny. He slips the envelope into his pocket instead.

He can feel Andrew watching him. He examines the view of the city through the picture window instead. “Are you in town for long?”

“Through the end of the week. Do you deepthroat? It didn’t say in your bio.”

Jesus Christ. It sounds like he’s asking Lee what he had for lunch. Lee doesn’t miss a beat though, just arches his eyebrow and turns to look Andrew in the eyes. “Er, yeah? Part of the job description, isn’t it?”

Andrew shrugs. “Takes all sorts.” He pulls his shirt over his head, revealing more tattoos and tan skin. He is, truth be told, very good looking. Lee goes to the gym, obviously, and the photos on his website were specifically taken to showcase it. He never expected a client to give him a run for his money. Andrew really doesn’t need to be paying for sex, but Lee won’t be running out to file a complaint. “We don’t have that much time, I figured I might as well get comfortable.”

“Yeah, of course. You, uh, you look really good.” Lee does his best to keep up. He’s meant to be the impressive one here, not the other way around.

Still, Andrew seems charmed by it, smiling as he sits on the edge of the bed. He spreads his legs wide, relaxed and lazy and completely unsubtle. It’s as wide-open an invitation as Lee will ever get. He strips off the jacket and folds it over the chair in the corner with as much care as he can. Then he shucks off the rest of his clothes onto the floor before he can second-guess himself. Andrew just stares with open appreciation, especially when he gets to the things the photos didn’t show.

“Do you mind if I—?”

“No, go ahead,” Andrew says, his voice dry. It may have been a prepared line but it works, and has Andrew leaning forward in anticipation as Lee’s underwear falls to the floor.

It’s a little embarrassing to be so hard already. Ideally, Lee would like to be a little more aloof, playing a little harder to get, a seasoned professional. Still, he strokes himself a few times, since Andrew is watching. This is all happening quicker than he’d imagined, no polite small talk, but he’s not sure he could have waited much longer anyway. Anxiety and arousal are working together to slowly swallow him whole. He can’t really believe he’s doing this.

Condom, right. Remember the basics. He snags it from his pants and sinks to his knees with as much grace as he can manage, which isn’t much. It’s familiar and strange at the same time, but he relies on his instincts and doesn’t waste any time. Andrew hardens nicely against his lips, the satisfying physical evidence of what Lee can do to guys, when he tries.

There’s no use playing coy when Andrew’s been so upfront about what he wants. Lee takes a deep breath and relaxes his throat, then takes Andrew as far down as he can manage. It’s worth it for how Andrew goes from silent to swearing in no time at all, his fingers tangling in Lee’s hair.

Just as Andrew is getting completely taut and hard on Lee’s tongue, and Lee starts letting pride drive him to suck deeper, to the edge of gagging, Andrew tugs lightly on the back of Lee’s hair, pulling him away. Lee goes, looking up at Andrew with big eyes. He knows he looks good. He keeps working Andrew’s dick with his hand, pleased by how he can make Andrew bite his lip and breathe out hard.

“Not yet,” Andrew says, stopping Lee’s hand with his own. He still squeezes hard at the base, looking down at Lee with a spark of something mischievous in his eyes. He ushers Lee to his feet and onto the bed, maneuvering him with warm, steady hands until he’s bent forward over Andrew’s lap, his ass high in the air.

Of the less-bad scenarios Lee had imagined for tonight, the worst was if he had to lead the whole thing himself and improvise a suite of suitable sex acts that would get him a good rating on PrivateDelights. Andrew, thankfully, seems more than willing to ask for what he wants. Lee tries not to feel too much like he’s slacking on the job.

“This is what I’ve been thinking about all day. I was looking at your pictures.” Lee preens a little at that, rocks back and forth on his knees. Andrew hums and runs a hand down Lee’s side, across his abs. “Couldn’t stop thinking about how I was going to get my hands all over you. I already got myself off in the shower once before you came.”

Andrew’s voice is nice. It’s low and always seems to be poised on the edge of a joke, which makes it more satisfying when he turns dead-serious and filthy. The head of his cock brushes Lee’s thigh, but Lee ignores it for now, Andrew’s attention clearly all on him. This is something he’s confident that he’s good at, taking the attention with an aw-shucks bashfulness that he’s been assured is a much more popular persona than a dirty-talking porn star.

There are two lube-slick fingers rubbing at his hole, and then they’re pushing in, slow and firm. Lee forces himself to relax and properly enjoy it. He’s been turned on for so long, he can’t stop himself sighing in relief. The stretch is delightful and so much better, thicker, than when he did it himself. He curves his back a little deeper, presents his ass with a little more flair, and moans when Andrew adds a third finger.

“I wish you could see yourself right now,” Andrew breathes, his breath blowing across Lee’s lower back, sending pinprick shivers up his spine. Lee can imagine it, but he wishes he couldn’t. The thought is too much, too quick. Andrew’s hands are so big, his fingers would be stretching him obscenely wide. Lee wants more, wants a break— he needs a clear head, but his neurons are only transmitting analog fuzz, no signal.

They’ve got an hour to kill and Lee is going to come before his guy even fucks him. It’s just poor customer service.

Andrew rubs slowly, purposefully over his prostate. It’s a blast of static at the edges of Lee’s reality, slowly occluding his other thoughts. Lee moans into the duvet, a bit of precome dripping off his cock and onto Andrew’s knee. Andrew chuckles at that, bringing his other hand up to rub his palm over Lee’s balls. “That’s good for you, then?”

“Oh, you might want to— Your hand on— I might come.”

Andrew just leans in closer, so he can whisper right into Lee’s ear. “That’s so fucking hot. Do you think you can handle me inside you when you’re all sensitive?” Lee squeezes his eyes closed and nods his head. He can do anything, if he’s asked. He can be good, adaptable, impressive, worth it. “Good, I want you to try. I want to see the faces you make.”

“Anything you want, Andrew.”

“I want to see you suck your fingers, will you do that for me? That’s good, just like that, nice and full.”

It doesn’t take long after that. Andrew fingers him in time with short, quick strokes over his cock, keeps running his mouth about how he looks so pretty, baby, yeah, just let go, just let it all out. Andrew is so clearly getting off on how into it Lee is letting himself be, so Lee slips his fingers out of his mouth and yelps when he comes, rides it out and thrusts back on Andrew’s fingers until it’s too much stimulation to bear. Then he collapses across Andrew’s knee.

Andrew keeps his word and barely gives Lee a second to recover before he picks him up by the hips and flips him over so they’re face-to-face. It’s the closest they’ve been to kissing, Andrew staring down at Lee as he struggles to catch his breath. He disappears for a moment to wipe the mess off his thigh and then he’s back, pushing Lee’s knee up towards his chest and whistles when he sees how far it bends. Lee does not have the spare mental capacity to even be proud of himself anymore. “You ready?” Andrew asks, rubbing the head of his cock over the lube on Lee’s inner thigh.

“Yeah, yeah, go on, please—”

Andrew hisses as he pushes in with one slow thrust, bottoming out and sitting there as Lee spasms around him.

Lee doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He grasps at the sheets and covers his face and grasps at Andrew’s shoulders and keeps moving because all of his nerve endings are firing at once and the energy from it needs to go somewhere. Andrew only pulls out halfway before pushing back in, not relenting for a moment. “It’s, ah, it’s too much, but don’t, don’t stop—”

“You can take it darling, you’re perfect for this, come on.”

Lee anchors himself to the bed, caught between pushing back into Andrew’s thrusts and squirming away from the overstimulation. It doesn’t help that Andrew is rubbing his thumb over the come-sticky tip of Lee’s soft cock in time with his thrusts. Andrew is so focused on him — it’s nothing like he expected. He thought of himself as entering a service industry, but here he is letting Andrew do all the work. The feeling of Andrew watching his jigsaw expectations fail to fit is almost as overwhelming as the sheer physical sensation of being dragged to the limit and hauled over it without warning.

Lee wants to say something to wrestle a bit of control, a bit of dignity back, but Andrew can’t seem to stop talking. “Jesus, you’re big. I bet all the guys love that big dick, don’t they?”

Lee almost chokes on his own tongue “‘S all yours,” he bites out. He can still do this, sell the fantasy— exclusivity, for an hour.

But Andrew doesn’t seem to want to play ball. “Bet they want to see it bounce when they fuck you, huh? They want to see you come all over yourself while you ride them?”

Lee can barely focus on Andrew’s words, on formulating a reply, let alone on keeping his back arched and his eyes half-lidded like a centerfold. He probably looks sweaty and half insane by now. Andrew’s cock keeps glancing off his prostate, an electric shock every time.

“You’re my first,” Lee admits, before he can stop himself. Andrew stops moving. Fuck, shit, shit. “I mean, I’m not, I have had sex before, don’t worry—”

Andrew is still very much balls deep in Lee’s ass and breathing hard. “But you’ve never done this before, sunshine?”

Lee is now very, very glad he has his eyes closed. He really looks like a fucking amateur now. He can feel the blush spreading down his neck, giving him away, but still, he smiles through it. “Someone had to be the first client, right?”

Andrew swears under his breath. “You know, I wouldn’t have guessed. You’re a natural.”

He pulls out slow and then shoves back in, knocking Lee’s breath out of him with the force of it. It takes no time to get back up to pace, even faster now, like being first really turns him on, makes him want it more. Andrew’s bracketing him with both arms, his body so close over Lee’s that Lee can smell Andrew’s eucalyptus aftershave and feel his breath on his neck. “You take my cock like you’ve had a lot of practice. You do this a lot? You figured you could get paid doing what you love, laying on your back and just taking it?”

Lee is caught out entirely. It makes his heart beat in double-time, makes him want to haul Andrew closer. “Yeah, you’re right, fuck, don’t stop.”

Andrew laughs at that, a burst of hot air against Lee’s ear that somehow feels as good as getting fucked. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Lee should have his guard up, should never have let it slip at all, but he’s too far gone now. If all the guys can be like Andrew, he doesn’t think he’ll ever quit. “Wish you could fuck me without the condom,” he says, which is stupid, so incredibly stupid and dangerous and goes against everything he’s told himself but he means it and the thought alone is making him hard again, fuck. He wants every guy to be like Andrew but he really, really can’t do this ever again. It’s too late to think about it or say anything different. He opens his eyes in time to see Andrew’s eyes go almost comically wide.

“Wish I could too, wish I could see my come dripping out of you. You look like an angel, baby.” Andrew’s getting wild, arrhythmic, and Lee does his best to squeeze tight and wring it out of him.

“Call me Lee.”

“Yeah? Want to give you everything, Lee. Want you to take it ‘cause you like it.” His fingers dig deep into Lee’s hips, as though it were possible for them to be any closer than they already are.

There’s $600 in cash in an envelope on the floor, and that’s reason enough to like this, but Andrew is pulling Lee back onto his dick with every thrust and Lee is throwing every carefully learned lesson about how to get fucked for money out the window, along with his higher brain function. Andrew’s hand is so good, almost painful on Lee’s cock and Lee’s name is on Andrew’s tongue, and Lee just about chokes out, “I like it, I like it,” before Andrew groans into Lee’s neck and trembles through his orgasm.

Slowly, slowly, Andrew disentangles himself from Lee’s body, lets go of his hips, slides out of him, flops to the side and stares up at the ceiling like he’s been etherized or maybe just struck over the head with a heavy object. His dumbstruck silence feels like a victory, even though Lee is similarly quiet. Lee just focuses on how Andrew’s breathing slowly goes back to normal and wonders how exactly he let himself fuck up this badly. He’s still maddeningly hard, again, and he can’t do anything about it but breathe and try to let it go like an unscratched itch.

Maybe when he gets back to his flat he can count the money and actually get himself off again, thinking about Andrew’s scent.

If he does this again, he’s going to have to prepare better. If he does this again, he’s going to have to be ready for clients like Andrew, who are hot enough and attentive enough and responsive enough to stroke his ego in just the right way to make him utterly stupid.

He rolls over and kisses Andrew for what feels like the rest of the hour, then grabs his clothes and leaves just in time to pick up Jenny’s call.

⁂

Lee gets back from his evening lecture late. Nothing would feel better than turning off his brain, eating the leftover pasta in the fridge, and falling asleep watching speedruns. Still, he checks his email as he shovels the spaghetti into his mouth, because that’s how his life is now. He’s a young businessman, of sorts. An entrepreneur. There are a few new inquiries in his inbox, but the guys don’t have any references. Apparently they can’t read the rules. He marks them read and moves on, slowly putting his fork down as he spots a familiar name.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Hey Lee, I mean, Hey Gordon ;) I’m in town again this week. I was hoping to connect... i heard you’re doing overnights now?

Either way, here’s the place I’m staying. Can i reach you at the same number?

Andrew

P.s.

Do you take gifts? I was just in paris and i couldn’t stop thinking about you

Lee should really just mark it read like the others. He has plenty of regulars on his calendar, and more inquiries than he needs to fill in the gaps. He’s got a cozy, steady business going. Rookie mistakes can stay rookie mistakes. Jenny taught him that.But the idea of being thought of, longed after, by a handsome man on the streets of Paris — well, he’s only human isn’t he? It’s been a year, but he’s still got Andrew’s number in his phone. He licks a spot of tomato sauce from his lip and tries not to smile too hard when Andrew texts him back immediately.

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moonssugar · 2 years

Text

someone of my characters genders be like cis but in scare quotes

#“cis”#if i squint hard enough they’re trans #this already happened to one dude #and the rest of them are gay or bi and already gnc so #look me in the eyes and tell me amos st sebastian is cis #this man has the same gender as the distilled essence of MCR #the next guy would identify as The Woods #the next one is i am not a woman i’m a god #and so is the next one #and aubry is being hit with lethal doses of transification waves from sam and chells #and she’s a lesbian and we be having weird genders anyways #her aunt isn’t cis her gender is lesbian #sola identifies as photosynthesis #raúl is a dad at the cookout which is a specific gender no i will not elaborate #nah you know what actually? amos’s gender is being a lapsed catholic #and sam (who’s transmasc) is a man in same way ashitaka from mononoke hime is #but nonbinary in the bowling alley carpet way #chelsie: it’s me i’m the cryptid

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vaspider · 3 years

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'only tenet of TERFism is transmisogyny' EXCUSE ME NO ITS ALL TRANS PEOPLE. They don't want any trans person to exist. What the hell.

Some people just gotta center their own suffering always, even when they're hurting other people by doing so. I've seen this a lot in younger queer folx of all stripes, this need to be the one that hurts the most, you know?

There's a reason the phrase Oppression Olympics exists, and it's because it's a common behavior or phenomenon in oppressed communities. I see it in the disability community, too.

What I think is important to understand when we talk about how trans people suffer under transphobia is that different groups are targeted differently. I'm not the first person to say this, of course.

Now, like, this is very rough sketchy stuff, and each person's individual experiences will vary, but in my general experience, the rough breakdown of the way in which transphobia lands on trans people kind of breaks down like this:

Binary trans women tend to suffer under a lens of hypervisibility. Everything they do is seen, analyzed, and torn apart. Their struggles are generally the ones centered in the arguments of allies, "allies," and transphobes. Even when trans women are the focus of helpful attention, that hypervisibility can cause exhaustion, because they need to perform perform perform, and be perfect, all the time. It's hard for trans women to just be without feeling like they're on camera, all the time. A lot of the time, they are on camera, because trans women's bodily autonomy and right to privacy are just never respected by transphobes (and often by supposed "allies" who feel free to ask the most invasive questions and get upset when trans women won't answer them), and even if they're not literally on camera, they're supposed to perform as the best examples of transfemininity, because if they don't, then they become the next 'look at this bad trans, all trans are this bad trans' example that TERFs point at and use as a broad brush to paint all trans women. If they're not perfect all the time and have a day where they snap at someone while someone is recording, or make a mistake, or anything, it has a horrible tendency to go viral. You can think of at least three instances right now off the top of your head, right? Right.

Binary trans men tend to suffer from hyperinvisibility. This comes from inside and outside the community -- a lot of trans men talk about being told they can't lead in community because they've 'got male privilege,' that their struggles are discarded, that they're talked over and unable to discuss the things they face, which means they don't get the support they need. Now, there are TERFs and transphobes who absolutely do focus their attention on trans men to the exclusion of or to the deprioritization of the oppression of trans women -- that's where we get Tavistock and Irreversible Damage and Fourth Wave Now and all the other bullshit which focuses on the idea that trans men are "transing the gay away," specifically "transing our butch lesbians" and "stealing butches." But again, generally speaking, trans men face harmful levels of invisibility where trans women face harmful levels of visibility. That's why transmascs in general have issues like lack of understanding even by supposedly trans-competent doctors as to how HRT affects our bodies, why trans men (and transmascs in general) report things like transphobes attacking them with transmisogynistic comments and assuming that every trans person online is a trans woman, etc.

Non-binary (here used as an umbrella term for all identities outside of binary man/woman, to include agender, genderfluid, non-binary, and infinite other identities) AFAB people tend to suffer from a different, very specific form of hypervisibility, unless they start to appear too masculine, and then they slip into hyperinvisibility. This is where we get things like "women and non-binary people" that codes all non-binary people as "AFAB people I can sort of squint and view as women," and people who fall into this category tend to get a lot of attention, a lot of derision from all sides of the spectrum. This is the "blue-haired tenderqueer" sneering that we get from both within and without the queer community, where there's an assumption that these people are just cosplaying an identity, that they're not really trans, etc. Having been in the visibility category and slipped into the invisibility category within the last, oh, year or so, and having two binary trans women in my family to compare notes with, the experiences are unnervingly similar. The difference between the experience that those women have had and the experience that I have had is that according to transphobes, I'm a traitor to my womanhood and performing femininity wrong and taking on a fake identity to escape female oppression because I'm not strong enough to bear up under it, but too cowardly to become a trans man, or... something, whereas they're taking on a fake identity to sneak into women's spaces because they're perverts.

Non-binary (umbrella identity etc) AMAB people tend to suffer from their own very specific form of hyperinvisibility, unless they start to present "too feminine", and then they slip into the hypervisibility which affects binary trans women, but with a little different fuckery in which everyone just assumes they're a trans woman, and therefore they get misgendered by everyone across the spectrum of queer/non-queer/etc. Non-binary AMAB people are generally treated like they don't exist, and when they are spoken about, are often discussed in the context of 'they should just admit they're trans women or gay men,' or if they present 'too feminine,' are subjected to the same sort of horrific attention that trans women get.

Again, a lot of this is very simplistic, and doesn't add in a lot of other complicating factors like race, disability, class, etc. Trans men of color, for example, can run into a different sort of hypervisibility because as they move further through their transition, they begin to be seen in the world as a man of color. It's not really mine to speak on beyond that, but I don't want to neglect saying 'this is really really simplistic and there's more to it than that' over and over.

I really hate breaking it down this simply because it feels like creating another binary (our society does like a binary!) for non-binary people, but like, I can't really talk about my shared experiences with other trans people without putting some framework around it. Someday, I'll be able to do that without categories. Wouldn't that be awesome?

I think we do our entire community a huge disservice when we talk about transphobia as if it's a single snake trying to take bites out of only one part of the community, and not a many-headed hydra, able to attack us from multiple different directions. I also think that focusing on one form of oppression keeps us from forming meaningful solidary and coalitions; the more divided we are, the easier it is for the people who literally want us all to stop existing to pick us off one by one. We see this all across the queer community and it's only ramping up as the attacks on our community escalate from without; people tend to turn on the ones closest to them when they get really scared, and to blame the person standing next to them for the pain they're suffering. It's the "close enough to hit" phenomenon, and it's why we see ridiculous things like "bi women make cis men think that lesbians can be won over," rather than acknowledging that bi women aren't the ones causing that: cis men are the ones causing that. The bi women in that case are close enough to hit. Transmascs are close enough to hit. Trans women are close enough to blame for the problems of transmascs, which makes it possible for TERFs to lure transmascs in and attempt to detransition them, subjecting them to gaslighting and manipulation and then using them as sock puppets.

TERFs do focus a lot on transmisogyny. They focus a lot on transmisandry, too. Debating which one is more prevalent and 'worse' not only misses the point, because transmascs and transfems face very different and totally rotten attention from cis society as a whole, including cis queers. We need to like, not do that anymore: we need to give each other the space to talk about our unique circumstances, but we also need to work harder on looking at each other through a lens of solidarity and trying to see that our struggles are different but not unrelated, and that if we keep downing on each other like this, we're not going to get anywhere except in a much more difficult situation as the people who don't want any of us to exist keep picking us off.

#transmisogyny #transphobia #transmisandry #queer issues #trans issues #long post

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antique-traveler · 2 years

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i remember you mentioning you’re planning on writing trans matt, and i’m so excited. trans matt is so special to me and i feel like he isn’t written enough. like if u squint hard enough you can act like matt’s scars are top surgery scars. like i fr believe that foggy would get curious one day and go through ALL of matt’s scars with him (kinda like that one scene in season two with elektra) maybe in college or sometime right after they just met

anon this was such a good idea god i loved writing this so much. the other trans!matt piece is still very much in the planning stage rn (also i'm debating if i want it to be mattfoggy or xreader, lmk y'all's thoughts) but thank you for giving me an excuse to write something kinda short and sweet :-D

2k, T, warnings: slight internalized transphobia, references to sex but not nsfw

[note: foggy's reception to matt coming out is definitely kinda clumsy, but i wanna let y'all know it's not transphobic. i just figure that it's 2012 and he's probably not very educated on modern gender theory, yknow?]

Matt’s gotta know he’s hot, right? Sighted or not, surely he knows that every member of the human race swoons at his biceps and jawline and smile. Foggy knows that if he had muscles like that, he’d never put on a shirt, ever, but somehow Matt seems almost… self conscious of his body.

Granted, they’ve only known each other a few weeks, so Matt could still be getting over some new roomie shyness, but Matt’s not shy about anything else, is the thing. He doesn’t hold back when he complains about his professors, he gladly circles an arm around Foggy’s shoulders when they stumble home together after a long night of drinking. Despite all that, though, Foggy’s still only ever seen Matt shirtless, like, twice. Foggy had only gotten a brief glimpse of Matt’s fucking six pack abs before he turned around to pull a sweatshirt over his head.

He’s obviously smokin’, Foggy already knows that, even if his hips are maybe a little wider than the average underwear model, but Foggy notices something else, too: Matt’s got scars. He’s not covered in them, Foggy only counted four or five, but they’re certainly noticeable. There are a couple thin, white ones on his back, the line running across his shoulder and collarbone near his neck, and the dark, diagonal line just to the right of Matt’s belly button. Most noticeable, though, are the two long, faded lines that span over his ribcage, sort of underlining each of his well-defined pecs.

Foggy’s not one to judge, and they certainly do not detract from Matt’s hotness, but Foggy knows that that amount of scars is pretty rare for a run-of-the-mill twenty-two-year-old, and he’s seen enough horror movies about evil nuns to be a little skeptical of the orphanage where Matt grew up.

Foggy tries to bring it up one night in early October when they’re both getting ready for bed and he sees another flash of Matt’s muscular bare back.

“Hey, Mattothy?” Foggy asks, trying to sound as casual and nonchalant as possible.

Matt pushes his head through the top of his hoodie and is adorably unaware of how messy his hair is when he turns to face Foggy. “Yes, Foggward?”

“What’s the deal with all the scars, man? Are you in, like, a secret ninja fight club or something?”

Matt pales a little bit before letting out the most forced laugh Foggy’s ever heard. “No, it’s a… it’s a long story, Fog. Maybe I’ll tell you later.”

Matt definitely won’t be telling him later, Foggy knows that much. Clearly he doesn’t want to share with the class, though, so Foggy begrudgingly lets it go for now. “Alright, bud,” he says after a moment of raising an eyebrow that Matt can’t see. “Well, I’m calling it a night.”

“Don’t let the bed bugs bite,” Matt says with a reserved smile.

Foggy flicks off the lamp on his nightstand and lays back on his pillow, trying not to form theories about all Matt’s scars as he drifts off.

><><><

Two nights ago, Matt gave Foggy the best blowjob he’s ever given, and he’s been riding the high ever since. He knew that Foggy was attracted to him, of course. Knew it from the moment he stepped into their dorm for the first time and all of Foggy’s blood immediately flew south for the winter, but to find out that that attraction was more than just physical, that’s the part that Matt didn’t expect. Matt’s never had a friend like Foggy before, and he’s pretty sure that for a while he just thought that all best friends gave each other dreams about getting married and retiring to a lakeside cabin, but now he knows better.

This thing between them is so new it’s barely even a “thing”, just kissing and giddy laughter, but it’s still the best thing that’s ever happened to Matt. Better than putting on his first testosterone patch, better than legally changing his name to Matthew Michael, even better than running his fingers over his chest for the first time once the bandages were off. Remembering all those moments, though, reminds Matt of the one thing that might ruin this amazing new thing he and Foggy have between them. For now, Foggy hasn’t actually asked to sleep with him yet, for now, Foggy hasn’t discovered the box of T patches tucked away under Matt’s bed, for now, Foggy doesn’t know that Matthew Michael Murdock has only been Matthew Michael Murdock for three years.

So anyway, two days after clumsily stuttering through a confession and smiling into a first kiss and kneeling slowly in front of Foggy, the two of them are getting ready for bed. Matt’s only just pulled his hoodie off over his head when Foggy speaks up from his bed.

“Hey, Matty,” he says before Matt can put on a sleep shirt. “Come over here.”

Matt awkwardly holds up a t-shirt and quietly asks, “Can I just–”

“Nope,” Foggy laughs. “I don’t think you know how hot you are if you’re that eager to put a shirt back on. You do realize that six packs are actually incredibly attractive, right?”

Matt feels heat rush to his face and makes his way to Foggy’s bed. “Uh, I guess? I didn’t really know if what I could feel was very visible, in my defense.”

Foggy just scoffs and pulls Matt onto the bed with him, wriggling around until they’re both laying side-by-side, facing each other. Once they’re both settled in, Foggy pushes forward and kisses Matt gently, like a compliment. Matt smiles as he pulls away, and he can feel Foggy’s eyes roaming over his body.

After a moment, Foggy’s breath catches and he finally asks, “Will you actually tell me where you got all these scars?” Matt’s heart drops and before he can object, Foggy cuts back in. “And you’ve already evaded the question once. You’re not ‘long story’-ing your way out of this one, mister.”

Matt feels his mouth go dry and tries to keep his cool. He hesitates for a second, then shifts on the bed so he’s lying on his back, face still pointed at Foggy. If Foggy can’t see the two on his back, maybe Matt won’t have to tell him about Stick. He cautiously raises a hand to run over the scar across his shoulder.

“This one,” he starts, “is from my accident. It wasn’t very deep, but it was still too long to go without stitches.” The breath that Foggy lets out is shallow and sad, so Matt attempts to lighten the mood as he describes the one on his belly. “This one comes with a very exciting and dramatic backstory. I got it when I faced off against an evil foe named appendicitis.”

Foggy thankfully laughs at that, but soon he goes quiet. “What about the ones on your chest?” He lays a gentle finger on the puckered skin below Matt’s nipple and Matt feels his pulse skyrocket and bile threaten to gather at the back of his throat.

He’d hoped he’d get a little bit more time with Foggy before telling him, hoped he’d get just a couple of weeks of being loved by someone who viewed him as a man without question. He knows that everything’s about to change now, though. If he’s lucky, Foggy will just let him down easy, they can finish out the semester as distant, awkward roommates, and then Foggy will request a room change for the spring term. If he’s not lucky… well, Matt doesn’t want to think about what will happen if he’s not lucky.

Foggy must notice Matt’s demeanor change, because he shifts a little closer to him on the bed and rests a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay, Matt? I’m sorry if I crossed a line or something, you don’t have to talk about it if–”

“No, Foggy,” Matt cuts him off, “it’s okay. I, um… this is something you need to know about, before this thing we have goes any further.” Matt takes a deep breath and turns his face up towards the ceiling. “I’m transgender. The scars are from when I had my… my breasts removed.”

Foggy goes completely still next to him, so Matt swallows the lump in his throat and tries to continue as confidently as he can. “I came out a few years ago, but I’ve always been this way, you know? I just couldn’t really talk about it at St. Agnes. My dad left me some money, and you know I’ve picked up some tutoring jobs, and a lot of that money goes towards…” Matt trails off and clears his throat. He’s almost done, just a little bit more and then he can let Foggy be disgusted. “So I– I came out sophomore year of undergrad, and I changed my name, and I have these patches I wear with hormones in them. I, um… sorry that this probably isn’t what you were expecting.”

Foggy doesn’t say a word for a moment, just breathes slowly through his open mouth. In a small voice, he finally says, “You, um, you have a… a bulge, though?”

Matt feels the weight of his packer from where it rests against him in his boxer-briefs and blushes what must be a bright red. “It’s fake. It’s a silicone thing so I can, you know, use a urinal and stuff.” When Foggy stays silent, Matt finally turns his face back towards him and feels a rebel tear slip out of the corner of his eye. He wishes he’d kept his glasses on. “Foggy? Can you please say something?”

“Matty, I don’t–” Foggy cuts himself off, then moves to prop himself up on his elbow. “You didn’t think I’d wanna end things over this, did you?”

Matt’s jaw drops open and he flushes again. “I, uh… kinda?”

“Is this why you didn’t want me to… reciprocate, the other night?”

“Yeah,” Matt admits before pushing himself up to lean against Foggy’s headboard.

Foggy sighs and seems to weigh his words. “I’ve never met anyone else who’s… like you. I’m definitely surprised, but… Matty, I really like you. I think you’re smart and funny and kind and, like, really hot, and none of that changes just ‘cause you’re– ‘cause you used to be–” Foggy stops mid-sentence and lets out a heavy breath. “Shit, I’m probably saying this all wrong. What I mean is that I care about you a lot, Matt, and I wanna keep doing all the… kissing and stuff. I don’t care if you don’t have a dick or if you used to have boobs or anything like that.”

Matt laughs wetly and lets the relief wash over him. “Thank you, Fog.”

“Is it weird that I said ‘boobs’?” Foggy asks with a shaky laugh. “I feel like ‘boobs’ was an inappropriate word for the gravity of this conversation.”

“No,” Matt gets through in between giggles, “you’re an adult, you’re allowed to say ‘boobs’. It’s not like I have them anymore, anyway.”

Foggy smiles and gets a little more serious again. “I’m attracted to you as a man, okay, Matt? Like, you were the confirmation that I’m not straight. I wanna make sure you know that.”

“Thank you, Foggy,” Matt says again, still smiling. Foggy leans over and kisses him hungrily and Matt kisses right back. Matt feels Foggy’s lips on his own, and every movement feels like a promise, like he’s pressing Matt’s name into his own mouth.

Foggy pulls away after a few minutes and lays a hand on Matt’s hip. “You know, if you’re okay with me going, uh, down there, I’d be happy to… return the favor from the other day.”

Matt blushes for the hundredth time that night and his whole body starts to fill with warmth. This is what he thought he’d never get, this is the dream scenario that he barely ever let himself consider for fear of disappointing himself. He nods as Foggy starts to undo his fly, and drops his head back down on the pillow.

Now this is the best thing to ever happen to Matt.

#my fic #anon #request #daredevil #mattfoggy #matt murdock #foggy nelson #trans matt murdock #nmcu #netflix daredevil #daredevil fanfiction

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nightingaelic · 3 years

Note

Fnv Companions react to Fem Courier being trans girl (sorry feel abit of self projection today hahah)

Don't feel sorry for wanting to see yourself reflected in the world around you, we all want to know that we belong.

The Forecaster frowned, and his eyes moved rapidly from left to right as if scanning some hidden radar. "Your face does the thinking... two to the skull, yet one gets up," he said.

The courier who stood before the boy nodded and touched her fingers to her temple, almost reflexively. "That's me."

"Odds are against you," the Forecaster went on, squinting. "But they're just numbers after the two-to-one. You've changed suits once, clubs to diamonds, and now you're playing the hand you've been dealt."

At this, the courier stiffened suddenly. "Um..."

The Forecaster went on, unaware of his customer's discomfort. "But you don't let it rest, you shuffle and stack, and a gamble... a gamble that may pay off? But how? Forecast: Rapidly changing conditions."

"Um... thanks." The courier counted out the caps and handed them over to the boy, then beat a hasty retreat from beneath the overpass.

Once back atop Highway 95, she took her traveling companion aside. "Before you think I worked for some Mojave faction and deserted, that thing he said about changing suits... I didn't think he'd... what he meant was... I wasn't always..."

She sighed and ran a hand over her head. "Hell, it's about time I told you anyway. I'm trans."

Arcade Gannon: Arcade stopped her before she could stumble into an over-explanation. "It's, uh, it's okay. I... may have already known."

"You..." The courier's eyes widened. "You did? But who told you?"

"I, um..." Arcade straightened his glasses and looked up at the sky, avoiding eye contact. "Oh boy. Doctor Usanagi..."

Immediately, the courier's eyes narrowed. "... doesn't betray doctor-patient confidentiality, but I was in one of her medical clinics that day you came in for the NEMEAN sub-dermal armor," Arcade finished hastily. "She, uh, asked me and a couple of the others to help her close you up."

"Oh." The courier relaxed her stance a bit. "Oh yeah, I remember. I mean, I don't remember you, but I do remember signing the form that said I was okay with med student assistance. Why didn't you say anything, when I first asked you to tag along?"

Arcade shrugged. "I don't betray doctor-patient confidentiality either. Usanagi hammers that into you pretty hard on day one. Besides, something like that doesn't matter much outside of a doctor's office."

Craig Boone: Boone shrugged. "Okay."

The courier's eyes darted around his countenance, looking for some kind of stronger reaction. "Nothing? Not even a 'congratulations' or a disapproving grimace? Who are you, Boone?"

"Unconcerned," he shot back testily. "Unless it affects your aim somehow, it's not a problem. If that's what you're asking."

The courier sighed. "No, it's... you're fine. I guess I'm still pretty defensive about it. Especially around NCR types."

Boone nodded. "There were a few officers that Manny and I operated under who weren't the open-minded sort. They didn't last long."

Lily Bowen: Lily looked positively stormy. "Did that young man just air your personal business for the whole trading post to hear without a care in the world?" she thundered, with all her grandmotherly might. "Let's go back, dearie, I need to give him a piece of my mind."

"Lily, no," the courier protested, grabbing the nightkin's arm before she could stomp off toward the overpass again. "He probably doesn't even know what he said, it's just part of his gift. And no one's going to put two and two together unless I tell them outright, like I did you."

"If you say so, pumpkin." Lily smiled and settled herself. "But I can always ask Leo for a little help if anyone has cross words for you about this."

The courier sighed and patted her companion's arm. "No need for that, Lily. That reminds me, you should take your medication today."

Lily wrapped her up in a hug. "You take such good care of Grandma, my sweet girl."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: "Mija." Raul smiled. "How long you been holding onto that for?"

The courier let out the breath she'd taken, and her shoulders sank back to a normal level. "Well not everyone takes news like that too well. I didn't know if you would... mind."

"Mind?" Raul shook his head. "Oye. I've lived a long time, out here in the desert. It's a lonely place, even if you're surrounded by a crowd on the Strip. You can lose yourself pretty easily, lose sight of what you want, what you are. I'd know better than most. If you held onto who you want to be, then that's a victory, in the Mojave."

"Um..." The courier's eyes were shiny with tears, but before Raul could comment or pull out a handkerchief, she'd enveloped him in an unexpected hug. "Thanks, viejo."

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: "Well, I'll be a gecko's uncle." Cass grinned. "You're serious? All this time on the road together, and you didn't think you could tell me that? I'm wounded, Six."

"Hey now, you were slow to trust me, too," the courier pointed out with a growing smirk. "I was gonna tell you after the Silver Rush situation, if we made it out alive, but then we did and you were riding so high at the Atomic Wrangler that I didn't want to dampen your memory of that day."

"Dampen my..." Cass chuckled and clapped the courier on the shoulder. "Better fix your metaphor there, Six. Rain in the desert is a good thing. And trust between friends would never dampen my day."

She held up a hand before the courier could protest. "I know, I know what you were worried about. Trust me, I'm not the type to froth at the mouth over propriety or 'family values.' Thought you'd've picked up on that, with my smart mouth and wanderin' eyes."

"Wandering..." The courier ducked out from under her arm and danced away, laughing. "Uh-uh. I helped you with your vendetta, now you help me with mine. Then we'll buy a drink at the Tops and talk, whiskey rose."

Veronica Santangelo: "You..." Veronica's eyes went as wide as the Mojave's full moon. "Oh. Oh."

Slowly, the Scribe sank into a sitting position on the cracked asphalt. "That explains a few things, I suppose."

The courier sat down next to her. "Like what?"

Veronica started ticking things off on her fingers. "Both that guy in Primm and the bartender in Goodsprings called you by a different name, but they were the same name and it sounded kind of like yours so I wrote it off as a coincidence. Benny didn't recognize you right away, even though he shot you in the head. And Arcade locked us all out of your room that time you took some shrapnel to the torso and were laid up in the Lucky 38 until you weren't covered in bandages."

"Oh yeah." The courier grinned. "Surprised you didn't piece it together sooner, then."

"I sometimes forget that's something people can do," Veronica admitted. "Remember when I said that some in the Brotherhood don't look too kindly on those who choose relationships that don't produce new children? Well, ditto and worse for those who want to transition. Most of the ones brave enough to do it anyway don't stay Brotherhood for long."

ED-E: The eyebot beeped in mock surprise, then whizzed around the courier three times playing triumphant music. She giggled and swatted the bot away playfully. "Go on then. I have no idea how you could've known, but there it is."

ED-E beeped quizzically once it came to a stop.

"Why hide it?" the courier responded. "Well, unlike robots, some people think it's strange to change your... parts. Or even just your classification. Honestly, it's old-world thinking, no clue."

The eyebot beeped long and low, almost like a coo of affection and reassurance.

"Thanks, ED-E," the courier said with a smile. "I'll try to remember that."

Rex: Rex cocked his head to the side. The courier knelt down to his level and scratched his ears, inspecting his new brain and cybernetic limbs as she did.

"I don't know why I'm telling you this," she murmured, increasing her attentions as Rex leaned into her. "You probably already knew, with that amazing nose of yours. I think your owner knows, otherwise why keep spouting that line of his whenever I come around?"

Rex whined, and the courier smiled. "You know. 'Do what's right for you, so long as it don't hurt no one.' Got that seared into my brain as surely as that bullet, thanks to him. I bet that king he's worshipping never even said that."

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teacupfulofstarshine · 3 years

Text

you're the pink in my cheeks (i'm a little bit soft)

summary: "and i know we'll never grow old together / cause you'll never grow old to me / you're the pink in my cheeks / and i love that it means i'm a little bit soft / you're the pink in my cheeks / and i love that it means i'm a little bit soft"

- "monster," marceline (adventure time)

(OR: 5.4k of soft domestic lesbian!analogical, featuring lesbian!moceit, trans male!remus, trans female!roman, and Gay Shenanigans)

a/n: huge thank you to dandie for beta'ing this fic!

i just wanted to write wlw is that so wrong of me? no. no it is not.

CW: alcohol mentions, a few sex jokes, swearing, one implied instance of potential sexual activity (although it doesn't go any farther than making out; if you want to skip that part, skip the section that starts with "Did you get the right kind of popcorn?")

word count: ~5.4k

read it on ao3!!

“I think I may be going insane,” Logan says, squinting at her laptop screen. Virginia, hanging upside-down in the armchair, looks up from her phone and blinks.

“And why is that?”

“Because I am starting to agree with Rosie’s anti-Florida agenda.”

“I didn’t realize that there was an anti-Florida agenda.”

“Rosie has one, and I have always thought it facetious. However, if this laboratory does not start sending me my requested samples and information in a timely manner, I will be forced to concede that Rosie may have . . . a point.”

“You, agreeing with a lit major? I never thought I’d see the day,” Virginia teases. Logan initially resists the urge to stick her tongue out or flip Virginia off, because that would be childish, but then she remembers that Virginia does not care about her childishness, so she sticks her tongue out. Virginia snorts with laughter, and Logan feels warm, fizzy pop-rocks bursting in her chest.

Her phone buzzes next to her, and she picks it up. There’s a new message blinking for her attention on the screen.