#reminds me of when this ''trans woman'' talked about how she got top surgery. to ''give her the boobs'' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

transgenderteensurvivalguide · 3 years

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“Elliot Page doesn’t remember exactly how long he had been asking.

But he does remember the acute feeling of triumph when, around age 9, he was finally allowed to cut his hair short. “I felt like a boy,” Page says. “I wanted to be a boy. I would ask my mom if I could be someday.” Growing up in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Page visualized himself as a boy in imaginary games, freed from the discomfort of how other people saw him: as a girl. After the haircut, strangers finally started perceiving him the way he saw himself, and it felt both right and exciting.

The joy was short-lived. Months later, Page got his first break, landing a part as a daughter in a Canadian mining family in the TV movie Pit Pony. He wore a wig for the film, and when Pit Pony became a TV show, he grew his hair out again. “I became a professional actor at the age of 10,” Page says. And pursuing that passion came with a difficult compromise. “Of course I had to look a certain way.”

We are speaking in late February. It is the first interview Page, 34, has given since disclosing in December that he is transgender, in a heartfelt letter posted to Instagram, and he is crying before I have even uttered a question. “Sorry, I’m going to be emotional, but that’s cool, right?” he says, smiling through his tears.

It’s hard for him to talk about the days that led up to that disclosure. When I ask how he was feeling, he looks away, his neck exposed by a new short haircut. After a pause, he presses his hand to his heart and closes his eyes. “This feeling of true excitement and deep gratitude to have made it to this point in my life,” he says, “mixed with a lot of fear and anxiety.”

It’s not hard to understand why a trans person would be dealing with conflicting feelings in this moment. Increased social acceptance has led to more young people describing themselves as trans—1.8% of Gen Z compared with 0.2% of boomers, according to a recent Gallup poll—yet this has fueled conservatives who are stoking fears about a “transgender craze.” President Joe Biden has restored the right of transgender military members to serve openly, and in Hollywood, trans people have never had more meaningful time onscreen. Meanwhile, J.K. Rowling is leveraging her cultural capital to oppose transgender equality in the name of feminism, and lawmakers are arguing in the halls of Congress over the validity of gender identities. “Sex has become a political football in the culture wars,” says Chase Strangio, deputy director for transgender justice at the ACLU.

(Full article with photos continued under the “read more”)

And so Page—who charmed America as a precocious pregnant teenager in Juno, constructed dreamscapes in Inception and now stars in Netflix’s hit superhero show The Umbrella Academy, the third season of which he’s filming in Toronto—expected that his news would be met with both applause and vitriol. “What I was anticipating was a lot of support and love and a massive amount of hatred and transphobia,” says Page. “That’s essentially what happened.” What he did not anticipate was just how big this story would be. Page’s announcement, which made him one of the most famous out trans people in the world, started trending on Twitter in more than 20 countries. He gained more than 400,000 new followers on Instagram on that day alone. Thousands of articles were published. Likes and shares reached the millions. Right-wing podcasters readied their rhetoric about “women in men’s locker rooms.” Casting directors reached out to Page’s manager saying it would be an honor to cast Page in their next big movie.

So, it was a lot. Over the course of two conversations, Page will say that understanding himself in all the specifics remains a work in progress. Fathoming one’s gender, an identity innate and performed, personal and social, fixed and evolving, is complicated enough without being under a spotlight that never seems to turn off. But having arrived at a critical juncture, Page feels a deep sense of responsibility to share his truth. “Extremely influential people are spreading these myths and damaging rhetoric—every day you’re seeing our existence debated,” Page says. “Transgender people are so very real.”

That role in Pit Pony led to other productions and eventually, when Page was 16, to a film called Mouth to Mouth. Playing a young anarchist, Page had a chance to cut his hair again. This time, he shaved it off completely. The kids at his high school teased him, but in photos he has posted from that time on social media he looks at ease. Page’s head was still shaved when he mailed in an audition tape for the 2005 thriller Hard Candy. The people in charge of casting asked him to audition again in a wig. Soon, the hair was back.

Page’s tour de force performance in Hard Candy led, two years later, to Juno, a low-budget indie film that brought Page Oscar, BAFTA and Golden Globe nominations and sudden megafame. The actor, then 21, struggled with the stresses of that ascension. The endless primping, red carpets and magazine spreads were all agonizing reminders of the disconnect between how the world saw Page and who he knew himself to be. “I just never recognized myself,” Page says. “For a long time I could not even look at a photo of myself.” It was difficult to watch the movies too, especially ones in which he played more feminine roles.

Page loved making movies, but he also felt alienated by Hollywood and its standards. Alia Shawkat, a close friend and co-star in 2009’s Whip It,describes all the attention from Juno as scarring. “He had a really hard time with the press and expectations,” Shawkat says. “‘Put this on! And look this way! And this is sexy!’”

By the time he appeared in blockbusters like X-Men: The Last Stand and Inception, Page was suffering from depression, anxiety and panic attacks. He didn’t know, he says, “how to explain to people that even though [I was] an actor, just putting on a T-shirt cut for a woman would make me so unwell.” Shawkat recalls Page’s struggles with clothes. “I’d be like, ‘Hey, look at all these nice outfits you’re getting,’ and he would say, ‘It’s not me. It feels like a costume,’” she says. Page tried to convince himself that he was fine, that someone who was fortunate enough to have made it shouldn’t have complaints. But he felt exhausted by the work required to “just exist,” and thought more than once about quitting acting.

In 2014, Page came out as gay, despite feeling for years that “being out was impossible” given his career. (Gender identity and sexual orientation are, of course, distinct, but one queer identity can coexist with another.) In an emotional speech at a Human Rights Campaign conference, Page talked about being part of an industry “that places crushing standards” on actors and viewers alike. “There are pervasive stereotypes about masculinity and femininity that define how we’re all supposed to act, dress and speak,” Page went on. “And they serve no one.”

The actor started wearing suits on the red carpet. He found love, marrying choreographer Emma Portner in 2018. He asserted more agency in his career, producing his own films with LGBTQ leads like Freeheld and My Days of Mercy. And he made a masculine wardrobe a condition of taking roles. Yet the daily discord was becoming unbearable. “The difference in how I felt before coming out as gay to after was massive,” says Page. “But did the discomfort in my body ever go away? No, no, no, no.”

In part, it was the isolation forced by the pandemic that brought to a head Page’s wrestling with gender. (Page and Portner separated last summer, and the two divorced in early 2021. “We’ve remained close friends,” Page says.) “I had a lot of time on my own to really focus on things that I think, in so many ways, unconsciously, I was avoiding,” he says. He was inspired by trailblazing trans icons like Janet Mock and Laverne Cox, who found success in Hollywood while living authentically. Trans writers helped him understand his feelings; Page saw himself reflected in P. Carl’s memoir Becoming a Man. Eventually “shame and discomfort” gave way to revelation. “I was finally able to embrace being transgender,” Page says, “and letting myself fully become who I am.”

This led to a series of decisions. One was asking the world to call him by a different name, Elliot, which he says he’s always liked. Page has a tattoo that says E.P. PHONE HOME, a reference to a movie about a young boy with that name. “I loved E.T. when I was a kid and always wanted to look like the boys in the movies, right?” he says. The other decision was to use different pronouns—for the record, both he/him and they/them are fine. (When I ask if he has a preference on pronouns for the purposes of this story, Page says, “He/him is great.”)

A day before we first speak, Page will talk to his mom about this interview and she will tell him, “I’m just so proud of my son.” He grows emotional relating this and tries to explain that his mom, the daughter of a minister, who was born in the 1950s, was always trying to do what she thought was best for her child, even if that meant encouraging young Page to act like a girl. “She wants me to be who I am and supports me fully,” Page says. “It is a testament to how people really change.”

Another decision was to get top surgery. Page volunteers this information early in our conversation; at the time he posted his disclosure on Instagram, he was recovering in Toronto. Like many trans people, Page emphasizes being trans isn’t all about surgery. For some people, it’s unnecessary. For others, it’s unaffordable. For the wider world, the media’s focus on it has sensationalized transgender bodies, inviting invasive and inappropriate questions. But Page describes surgery as something that, for him, has made it possible to finally recognize himself when he looks in the mirror, providing catharsis he’s been waiting for since the “total hell” of puberty. “It has completely transformed my life,” he says. So much of his energy was spent on being uncomfortable in his body, he says. Now he has that energy back.

For the transgender community at large, visibility does not automatically lead to acceptance. Around the globe, transgender people deal disproportionately with violence and discrimination. Anti-trans hate crimes are on the rise in the U.K. along with increasingly transphobic rhetoric in newspapers and tabloids. In the U.S., in addition to the perennial challenges trans people face with issues like poverty and homelessness, a flurry of bills in state legislatures would make it a crime to provide transition-related medical care to trans youth. And crass old jokes are still in circulation. When Biden lifted the ban on open service for transgender troops, Saturday Night Live’s Michael Che did a bit on Weekend Update about the policy being called “don’t ask, don’t tuck.”

Page says coming out as trans was “selfish” on one level: “It’s for me. I want to live and be who I am.” But he also felt a moral imperative to do so, given the times. Human identity is complicated and mysterious, but politics insists on fitting everything into boxes. In today’s culture wars, simplistic beliefs about gender—e.g., chromosomes = destiny—are so widespread and so deep-seated that many people who hold those beliefs don’t feel compelled to consider whether they might be incomplete or prejudiced. On Feb. 24, after a passionate debate on legislation that would ban discrimination against LGBTQ people, Representative Marie Newman, an Illinois Democrat, proudly displayed the pride flag in support of her daughter, who is trans. Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene, a Georgia Republican, responded by hanging a poster outside her office that read: There are TWO genders: MALE & FEMALE.

The next day Dr. Rachel Levine, who stands to become the first openly transgender federal official confirmed by the Senate, endured a tirade from Senator Rand Paul about “genital mutilation” during her confirmation hearing. My second conversation with Page happens shortly after this. He brings it up almost immediately, and seems both heartbroken and determined. He wants to emphasize that top surgery, for him, was “not only life-changing but lifesaving.” He implores people to educate themselves about trans lives, to learn how crucial medical care can be, to understand that lack of access to it is one of the many reasons that an estimated 41% of transgender people have attempted suicide, according to one survey.

Page has been in the political trenches for a while, having leaned into progressive activism after coming out as queer in 2014. For two seasons, he and best friend Ian Daniel filmed Gaycation, a Viceland series that explored LGBTQ culture around the world and, at one point, showed Page grilling Senator Ted Cruz at the Iowa State Fair about discrimination against queer people. In 2019, Page made a documentary called There’s Something in the Water, which explores environmental hardships experienced by communities of color in Nova Scotia, with $350,000 of his own money. That activism extends to his own industry: in 2017, he published a Facebook post that, among other things, accused director Brett Ratner of forcibly outing him as gay on the set of an X-Men movie. (A representative for Ratner did not respond to a request for comment.)

As a trans person who is white, wealthy and famous, Page has a unique kind of privilege, and with it an opportunity to advocate for those with less. According to the U.S. Trans Survey, a large-scale report from 2015, transgender people of color are more likely to experience unemployment, harassment by police and refusals of medical care. Nearly half of all Black respondents reported being denied equal treatment, verbally harassed and/or physically attacked in the past year. Trans people as a group fare much worse on such stats than the general population. “My privilege has allowed me to have resources to get through and to be where I am today,” Page says, “and of course I want to use that privilege and platform to help in the ways I can.”

Since his disclosure, Page has been mostly quiet on social media. One exception has been to tweet on behalf of the ACLU, which is in the midst of fighting anti-trans bills and laws around the country, including those that ban transgender girls and women from participating in sports. Mississippi Governor Tate Reeves says he will sign such a bill in the name of “protect[ing] young girls.” Page played competitive soccer and vividly recalls the agony of being told he would have to play on the girls’ team once he aged out of mixed-gender squads. After an appeal, Page was allowed to play with the boys for an additional year. Today, several bills list genitalia as a requirement for deciding who plays on which team. “I would have been in that position as a kid,” Page says. “It’s horrific.”

All this advocacy is unlikely to make life easier. “You can’t enter into certain spaces as a public trans person,” says the ACLU’s Strangio, “without being prepared to spend some percentage of your life being threatened and harassed.” Yet, while he seems overwhelmed at times, Page is also eager. Many of the political attacks on trans people—whether it is a mandate that bathroom use be determined by birth sex, a blanket ban on medical interventions for trans kids or the suggestion that trans men are simply wayward women beguiled by male privilege—carry the same subtext: that trans people are mistaken about who they are. “We know who we are,” Page says. “People cling to these firm ideas [about gender] because it makes people feel safe. But if we could just celebrate all the wonderful complexities of people, the world would be such a better place.”

Even if Page weren’t vocal, his public presence would communicate something powerful. That is in part because of what Paisley Currah, a professor of political science at Brooklyn College, calls “visibility gaps.” Historically, trans women have been more visible, in culture and in Hollywood, than trans men. There are many explanations: Our culture is obsessed with femininity. Men’s bodies are less policed and scrutinized. Patriarchal people tend to get more emotional about who is considered to be in the same category as their daughters. “And a lot of trans men don’t stand out as trans,” says Currah, who is a trans man himself. “I think we’ve taken up less of the public’s attention because masculinity is sort of the norm.”

During our interviews, Page will repeatedly refer to himself as a “transgender guy.” He also calls himself nonbinary and queer, but for him, transmasculinity is at the center of the conversation right now. “It’s a complicated journey,” he says, “and an ongoing process.”

While the visibility gap means that trans men have been spared some of the hate endured by trans women, it has also meant that people like Page have had fewer models. “There were no examples,” Page says of growing up in Halifax in the 1990s. There are many queer people who have felt “that how they feel deep inside isn’t a real thing because they never saw it reflected back to them,” says Tiq Milan, an activist, author and transgender man. Page offers a reflection: “They can see that and say, ‘You know what, that’s who I am too,’” Milan says. When there aren’t examples, he says, “people make monsters of us.”

For decades, that was something Hollywood did. As detailed in the 2020 Netflix documentary Disclosure, transgender people have been portrayed onscreen as villainous and deceitful, tragic subplots or the butt of jokes. In a sign of just how far the industry has come—spurred on by productions like Pose and trailblazers like Mock—Netflix offered to change the credits on The Umbrella Academy the same day that its star posted his statement on social media. Now when an episode ends, the first words viewers see are “Elliot Page.”

Today, there are many out trans and nonbinary actors, directors and producers. Storylines involving trans people are more common, more respectful. Sometimes that aspect of identity is even incidental, rather than the crux of a morality tale. And yet Hollywood can still seem a frightening place for LGBTQ people to come out. “It’s an industry that says, ‘Don’t do that,’” says director Silas Howard, who got his break on Amazon’s show Transparent, which made efforts to hire transgender crew members. “I wouldn’t have been hired if they didn’t have a trans initiative,” Howard says. “I’m always aware of that.”

So what will it mean for Page’s career? While Page has appeared in many projects, he also faced challenges landing female leads because he didn’t fit Hollywood’s narrow mold. Since Page’s Instagram post, his team is seeing more activity than they have in years. Many of the offers coming in—to direct, to produce, to act—are trans-related, but there are also some “dude roles.”

Downtime in quarantine helped Page accept his gender identity. “I was finally able to embrace being transgender,” he says.

Page was attracted to the role of Vanya in The Umbrella Academy because—in the first season, released in 2019—Vanya is crushed by self-loathing, believing herself to be the only ordinary sibling in an extraordinary family. The character can barely summon the courage to move through the world. “I related to how much Vanya was closed off,” Page says. Now on set filming the third season, co-workers have seen a change in the actor. “It seems like there’s a tremendous weight off his shoulders, a feeling of comfort,” says showrunner Steve Blackman. “There’s a lightness, a lot more smiling.” For Page, returning to set has been validating, if awkward at times. Yes, people accidentally use the wrong pronouns—“It’s going to be an adjustment,” Page says—but co-workers also see and acknowledge him.

The debate over whether cisgender people, who have repeatedly collected awards for playing trans characters, should continue to do so has largely been settled. However, trans actors have rarely been considered for cisgender parts. Whatever challenges might lie ahead, Page seems exuberant about playing a new spectrum of roles. “I’m really excited to act, now that I’m fully who I am, in this body,” Page says. “No matter the challenges and difficult moments of this, nothing amounts to getting to feel how I feel now.”

This includes having short hair again. During our interview, Page keeps rearranging strands on his forehead. It took a long time for him to return to the barber’s chair and ask to cut it short, but he got there. And how did that haircut feel?

Page tears up again, then smiles. “I just could not have enjoyed it more,” he says.”

#suicide m #transphobia m #Elliot Page #transgender #representation #celebrities #actors #tv #movies #rep #trans #transmasculine #nonbinary #queer #long post

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norimiya · 3 years

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WHEN THEY COME OUT TO YOU PT.2

reminder that these are all personal headcanons :]

warnings: mentions scars and surgery in kaoru’s, me being downbad for Oka.

characters: Kaoru, Kojiro, Hiromi, and Oka

KAORU

(thank u to the person who briefly talked ab this with me <3)

still don’t know if this is a stretch or not but I’m fine with taking the Trans!Cherry headcanon to my grave

Honestly, I don't see Kaoru ever verbally saying he’s trans, everyone just finds out one way or another.

For example; Reki, Langa, and Miya had found out when they went to the hot springs after seeing him shirtless, meaning they saw his scars from top surgery and of course, got curious.

Or you’d already known, (saying this as you’d known him for as long as Joe) and helped him during his transition.

But yeah, don’t think he’d say it verbally. Could he be keeping it to himself so people don’t treat him differently? Maybe. Could he be keeping it to himself because everybody just knows him as a man? I don’t know.

This sucked but you know, imagine the first time he walked out shirtless. Sounds fun.

KOJIRO

…bi king? Sure. But methinks, pan.

Yeah, I think this guy is Pansexual okay? Okay.

He doesn’t even say anything, his energy, his flirting with anyone his age that literally just breathes, he’s into everyone.

Got boobs? Cool, he’s down. Don’t got boobs? Cool, he’s down. Got a little friend down under? Sick, so does he.

Sorry that one made me chuckle.

Anyways, if he were to come out to you I think it’d be pretty straightforward.

“Was that a guy just now?” “Yeah, and?”

Okay, that doesn’t work, but still, he doesn’t address anything he just says that. No emphasis.

To be honest, it’d never really cross his mind… if he found someone attractive then he finds them attractive, doesn’t care about the gender, mans is coolin.

HIROMI

not gonna lie here, I’m biased.

Our he/they king :D

I am a Hiromi ‘Shadow’ Higa non-binary truther.

No evidence or anything. I just feel like he’d be the kind of person to not care about how people refer to him as.

Though, I think they’d be a bit iffy on the use of ‘she’ but he does like the feeling he gets when people refer to them with he/they!

Yeah leave me alone I’m having a blast

If he’s scared and nervous about asking out the manager (still mad about that) then he’d be terrified to verbally come out to you.

So, hear me out. He makes a bouquet that are the colors of the non-binary flag.

If you’re slow and he knows, they’d probably write a note or legitimately put a non-binary flag within the bouquet. It’s cute.

OKA

he’s so hot.

Anyways, mlm. This man is gay. Will I cite my sources and provide three pieces of evidence? No. This is from the deep wavy parts of my brain labeled as ‘satisfactory selfishness’ I want this man.

“It’s the woman from the care center isn’t it” Reki exclaimed, snapping a finger at his manager. Oka crossed his arms, head tilted upwards as he huffed, “It’s nothing like that!”

Yeah, that scene? I’m twisting it for my own benefit. I’m off track.

He’d come out to you in a… maybe an embarrassing way. Maybe.

Maybe catching him making out with a guy. Maybe seeing him at like a pride parade. Maybe if you’re a guy (and his age) he’s like.. not so subtly crushing on you (super obvious)

All I’m saying is that it’d be an accident, alright? He might let it slip, and basically out himself without meaning to. Or you know, you’d catch him.

“So I went out with this guy last night and-” “wait I’m sorry, did you just say guy?”

Damn boi u find I won’t you

#sk8 the infinity imagines #sk8 the infinity x reader #sk8 x reader #sk8 the infinity headcanons #sk8 the infinity scenarios #kaoru sakurayashiki x reader #kaoru sakurayashiki imagines #kojiro nanjo imagines #kojiro nanjo x reader #hiromi higa x reader #hiromi higa imagines #oka shokichi x reader #oka shokichi imagines #goob writes!#goob writes sk8!

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adhdeancas · 3 years

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for trans man!dean, him mcfuckin dipping to totally transition how he wants then posting up at a family reunion as his badass self with Sam proud of him? also cas comes as his plus one/emotional support/husband idk

mcfuckin love how you worded this. here you go, more trans dean for everyone. minor trigger warnings for a little bit of dysphoria and a little bit of transphobia

Dean didn’t tell anyone when he went away. He just left. Wasn’t anybody’s business, and it’s not like anybody cared enough to keep up with him.

Sam was too busy with school and work, Dad was too busy being a drunk asshole, and, well, there weren’t many other people who gave a shit in Dean’s life.

The only person he told was Bobby, and that’s because Bobby would’ve hunted his ass down just to kick it if he just stopped showing up at the garage.

Sam texted every few months, sure, but Dean always got by with vague answers. He didn’t tell Sam that he was having top surgery, or going on hormones, or shacking up with a hot former-priest in Canada. Nah, not important. After all, he’d told Sam he was a dude years ago. So he shouldn’t be too surprised. Right?

Except then he has to go to this stupid Winchester Family Reunion.

“Dean, it’s going to be okay. They love you,” Cas placated him for the thousandth time. He came over and fixed Dean’s tie, which Dean resolutely batted away. He was the one used to fixing Cas’s tie. He glared at his boyfriend.

“You don’t know them.” He said quickly. He stomped over and flopped down face first on the gross motel comforter they’d rented out halfway to Bobby’s. (Dean wanted to just power through, but Cas insisted on making a road trip out of it. He hadn’t been on many.) He let out a muffled moan out of frustration.

Cas rolled his eyes. “Well, that’s why we’re starting with Bobby. Baby steps, right?”

Dean sat back up and cringed at his boyfriend. “Yeah, baby steps for me and giant leaps for Bobby.” Cas smiled and sat on the edge of the bed. He looked like a freaking doctor visiting a patient, and it was so cute Dean wanted to end the conversation and pin him to the mattress instead.

“Bobby knows you’re trans, right?” he asked patiently

“Yeah.”

“Then it shouldn’t be that big of a surprise to him that you look a little different. I mean, it’s been two years.” Dean grinned at him. Cas had a way of making everything seem so manageable.

“Sure, just a little bit different. Two boobs lighter and a beard heavier.” He gave Cas a shit eating grin and looped a leg over him, sitting back on his heels.

Cas pursed his lips, running a hand over Dean’s stubble. “I don’t know, would we call this a beard?”

Dean growled at him and leaned in for a kiss. “Hey, asshole, aren’t there better things you could do with your mouth than talk?” Cas laughed and kissed him back.

“You make a good point.”

They left the motel room a little dirtier than they found it.

---------------------------------------------

Dean spent a full minute pacing back and forth behind an old clunker before he ran up to the front door and knocked. Cas eased up from where he’d been leaning against the Impala and joined his boyfriend where he was now awkwardly drumming against his thigh. “Do I look okay? Do I look-uh-” he faltered, not sure how he wanted to look. Did he want to look like a guy? Or enough like a chick to look like his old self, so Bobby would let him in?

“You look great.” Cas reached for his hand but Dean stole it away so he could turn around when he heard the door opening.

“...hello?” Bobby asked gruffly. Dean grinned and put his hands on his hips, then down at his sides when he realized he didn’t want to emphasize how wide his hips were.

“Hi, uh, Bobby. It’s… it’s Dean?”

Bobby did a double-take, and then Dean shifted uncomfortably. He knew he was looking for what Dean used to look like in how he looked now. He cleared his throat. Bobby blinked at him. “Well, shit, Dean. You- uh- you been working out, kid?”

Bobby pulled Dean into a bone-crushing hug, laughing. Dean pulled away with just a grin just as big. “Lil’ bit.” He said, blushing. “Oh, uh,” he stepped back and grabbed Cas’s hand, pulling him forward. “This is Cas. He’s- he’s my boyfriend.” Dean was absurdly more nervous to admit he liked guys (again) than he was for Bobby to see him post-op. Would Bobby still believe he was a guy if he was queer too?

“Shit, a boyfriend? What, you got a mortgage too, you hiding a kid under that jacket?” Bobby huffed and stalked into his house. Cas seemed a little taken aback by his gruffness, but Dean just grinned and squeezed his hand. This was a good sign. They followed him into the kitchen, where Bobby was making coffee and muttering, “What, go away for a couple years and come back a man?”

Dean beamed.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dean took a deep breath, and Cas squeezed his hand. He pressed a kiss to Dean’s cheek. “You’ve got this, babe.” Dean nodded shakily. He could do this.

Surprisingly, he could do this. From the second he walked in the door, Dean took no shit. Most people didn’t give him more than a glance; they didn’t recognize either of the new men. Dean looked for Sam’s messy mop of hair and made a beeline as soon as he recognized it. Easy, when Sam towered over practically everyone.

“Sammy!” Dean poked his brother in the back. “How the hell are you?”

Sam turned around, his furrowed brows loosening into a look of pure surprise when he recognized his brother. Which of course he did. “Dean!” He hugged Dean, pulling away so he could look at him. “Holy shit, you- you got top surgery?”

Dean grinned. “You know what top surgery is?”

Sam looked offended. “I research.” Dean laughed and lifted up his shirt quickly to show his scars.

“Pretty cool, right?” Cas laughed at that and Sam turned his attention to the dark haired man standing behind his brother. “Oh yeah, I brought moral support.” He dragged Cas forward with a hand on the small of his back, and Cas thrust out his hand. “He’s a grad student too. I’m sure you nerds have a ton to gab about.”

Sam rolled his eyes and shook Cas’s hand. “Hey, man, nice to meet you. What’re you studying?”

Dean zoned out almost immediately, keeping a hand on Cas out of comfort. All around the room, his family didn’t recognize him. Usually he’d have people coming up to him, Aunts screeching “Deanna!” and talking about his weight or his outfit or his hair, he’d have uncles throwing him over their shoulders and talking about last time they’d seen him when he was a little girl. Now? Nothing. Clean slate. It felt like freedom. He was him, in front of his family. For once. Then Dad walked up to him.

“Sammy, who you got there? Thought you weren’t bringing a plus one.” John asked gruffly, suspiciously. Sam rolled his eyes.

“It’s Sam. And I told you, Jess couldn’t come, she’s got too much on her plate right now.” He reminded his dad quickly that he was dating a woman right now, fuck you very much.

“Yeah, sorry Dad, that’s my date.” Dean grinned and looped an arm low on Cas’s waist. He felt Cas look at him and he swore he heard him sniff. Motherfucker was checking for alcohol on his breath. He laughed and turned to give him a quick kiss, which surprised him even more. Confidence was a helluva thing.

John was frozen in place. One of his eyes was twitching like he was overloaded with information. Which, Dean guessed, he was.

“Dad, Cas, Cas, John,” Dean said, still grinning. Sam let out a snort from his other side. Cas extended his hand coolly. John stared at him as he returned the favor, turning Cas’s knuckles white with the force of his grip. “Oh and I’m Dean, by the way, in case you didn’t get the email.”

Dean extended his hand for his own handshake, and John took it equally slowly. “So you’re just going to show up like this, no warning or-”

“Yup.” Dean said happily. “Now I was promised burgers. Where are the fucking burgers?”

“What have you done to yourself?”

“Upgraded.” Dean shrugged and fixed his jacket.

“And you’re…” He looked at Cas.

“Into men.” Dean nodded. “And women. No offense, Cas, but women are just prettier.” Cas nodded sagely, and Dean offered Sam a fist to fistbump. Sam did it with a smirk. “Guess you got two queer sons, daddio.”

John made no move. “Burgers?”

“Over there.” Sam answered this time, pointing. Dean looked.

“Oh over by Grandpa Henry? Sweet. Thanks, Sammy. Wanna join?” He looped an arm around Sam’s shoulders before he could answer and dragged his two best guys toward the food.

“Dean, hey, I’m- I’m really proud of you.” Sam stopped him and put a hand on his chest, and Dean felt a warm feeling both due to his words and the fact that Sam could pat him on the chest now without it being weird. “I know you’ve had a rough time- I mean, with everybody, with caring what they think- I’m just really proud of you.”

Dean swallowed a lump in his throat. “Thanks, Sammy. That’s all I need.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

#trans dean #dean is trans #ftm dean #destiel #deancas #sam winchester #dean winchester #fanfic #my writing #anon #ask

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amaya-chwan · 3 years

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Therapy Game Restart Discussion: Who is Onodera?

Hello everyone! Hope you are all well~ ❤️💛💜 I've had a headscratcher of an ask/message regarding Onodera, so I figured I'll make it into one big post!

Before I begin this Q&A/discussion post (feel free to comment below if you have any thoughts), I have looked through past chapters to gather the information I will put into this post to support my predictions. Not all chapters are readily available for everyone at the moment as only one volume of TGR is out right now, so I shall put the chapter numbers for your future reference! ⚠️ Also, just a note! These opinions are my personal thoughts, conjectures, and opinions, so please don't think I am saying one idea or speculation is wrong--this is just how I see it, and of course I could very well be wrong! And I also am not fluent in Japanese, so I may have some translation errors!

⚠️ Also, a warning, this will be a long post! Keep reading if you're interested and please let me know your own thoughts!

First, in an earlier ask, I was directed to a translation group that said Onodera is a man. With the help of Google and Google Translate (because I don't understand/speak Spanish), I found that post (dated April this year) and the origin of the picture they used in that post. The image is from Hinohara-sensei's 13th August 2020 tweet here and is also below for reference:

Now, all I can remember from first seeing that image is "Woow, so pretty! A female character? A love rival? A threat? OH it's the infamous director they're all talking about???"

This image was released around the time chapter 8 was released, i.e. the first chapter we see Onodera in full.

Looking at the image again, I can see how Onodera could be seen as a female or a male. Onodera has long hair, yet no visible breasts. There is no evidence of an Adam's apple, but that could just be because of the turtleneck as part of their outfit. Furthermore, in chapter 13, we see a view of Onodera from behind. There are no "womanly curves" visible in this view of Onodera.

After searching some Japanese blogs, some fans also had the same thoughts: no breasts = possible male, the shape of the face etc. Here are the blogs I found: [1] [2] [3] but most of these are from around chapter 8.

Just about the breast argument: there are a lot of different shapes for breasts. I learnt that when working at a department store selling bras during university. It is possible that Onodera is really flat chested or just has very little breast tissue. Not sure if that's getting too technical now, ahah, but what I want to say is that the lack of breasts isn't a definite yes to Onodera being a man.

Hinohara-sensei also has not explicitly stated throughout TGR so far (ch1-13) that Onodera is male or female.

From chapters 8-12, Onodera is always referred to as 院長 (director) by Shizuma and the nurses at the clinic. No gender-specific pronouns have been used in the story nor by any characters to refer to Onodera when speaking so far (that I have read). So confirming Onodera's gender is just misleading at the present moment.

We do find out in chapter 9 that Onodera's first name is 昌 akira. Akira is a gender neutral name in Japan. It is often given to males, but it is not uncommon for females to have this name. Which, I think, is genius on Sensei's part. It leaves us all thinking!

Q: So Amaya-chwan, what do you think Onodera's gender is?

Just for me as I've been reading TGR the past 1.5 years, I see Onodera as a woman as I have been "encouraged" to see Onodera as one by the little subtleties in the story, and Minato sees Onodera as a female, so I probably am viewing Onodera in Minato's POV.

(Please keep reading on for more insights and answers to questions! Really, this post is long! 😅)

In chapter 9, Onodera's older brother, who is also Shizuma's university professor (and his last name is not Onodera), makes small talk with Shizuma regarding the staff at his placement:

Shizuma's professor says: By the way, Shizuma-kun, how've you been!? You haven't been bullied, have you!? // The female team here is scary, right~ You know, Nakajou-kun and I were in the same grade...

So here, I'm made to think Onodera's clinic is pretty much all female, including Onodera too.

Fun fact: His professor uses the suffix -kun for Nakajou-sensei, yet Nakajou-sensei is a female and -kun is commonly used for males these days. But, it is also used for females in very specific situations. I'm not too sure what the situations are, but I have heard them used for females before.

In the same chapter (9), while Shizuma is changing out of his scrubs in the men's locker (?) room, Onodera walks in. He is slightly flustered, and kindly reminds her that she's walked into the men's locker room. Her reaction is "Huh? Ahh..." So here, again, I am made to believe Onodera is female.

While no gender-specific pronouns have been used to address Onodera, Minato and Itsuki have referred to Onodera as a female in chapter 13.

The kanji for "female/woman" is 女. In these two images, Minato refers to Onodera as 上司の女 female superior, and from Minato's story, Itsuki hence calls her 職場の女の人 female from (Shizuma's) workplace. This is the only time Onodera has been referred to as a female.

⚠️ Just a note going forward in this discussion, I will now call Onodera "she/her" as that is what I believe Onodera's gender is at the present moment!

Now, I did get a second ask from an Anon! Here they are below with my responses:

This one is about what's behind Onodera. I think she's a pretty interesting character. I actually think she's a trans woman or a non-binary trans woman. Sensei has been dropping so many hints to that... The name her brother calls her might be her dead name. He complains about her hair and what their father would say. She's designed to have flat breasts, perhaps she's not under hormone therapy, perhaps her "trips" and "days off" have something to do with reassignment surgeries...

She most definitely is an interesting character. I wouldn't say Onodera being transgender is out of the realm of possibility because the story is still ongoing. But regarding her name, I don't know if I'd call it a dead name since it is gender neutral already. Perhaps the kanji for a male Akira name would be different to a female one though?

About the hair comment (ch10), I just thought it was unruly? I honestly didn't think too much of it! What I will add is that the kanji for hair (髪) is used, but the reading is あたま head. Not sure why just yet, so I'll just leave that here as some extra information for the moment.

Not sure what I really think about a) her flat-chestedness and b) her insanely long business trips yet! I figured a) might be a character design, and b) she really is a top-notch veterinarian so she's probably in high demand. But I could be completely off the mark!

Also, I don't know where to add this random bit in from the story, but in chapter 12, we find out that Onodera has been calling one of the staff the wrong name for more than 10 years now. Not sure if this new piece of info affects anything?

But again, that is a very interesting prediction/thought you have about Onodera, and I wouldn't say it's not possible!

She's kind of a female Minato, psychologicallly and in appearance, which brings some challenges. And one more thing that I think hints to that: "I'll make it so your body can never be satisfied by any woman", Minato says to Shizuma. As the last chapter leaves it at that, we don't know exactly what he is talking about. [spoiler?] I haven't seen the Japanese text yet to be sure if he's clear about topping Shizuma.

That was exactly my thought when she was first introduced! That's part of the reason why I think Minato sees her as a threat, especially when he saw her for the first time and was told she is a 美人beautiful person (both in chapter 12). She and Minato definitely share some characteristics, but I find she's a bit more socially-awkward than Minato given her background (Chapter 9 & 10).

For the dialogue, the Japanese lines and the most literal translations I can give are:

今から　静真くんを抱く From now, (I'll) hold/embrace you, Shizuma-kun.

どんな女に出会っても　絶対満足できない体にしてあげる No matter the women you encounter, I will make it so your body definitely cannot be satisfied (by any of them).

Hopefully we'll find out what Minato means by that exactly in the next chapter, which I hope comes to me this week!

But if that's what he's talking about, it's 1. poor Minato being transphobic (besides being biphobic towards his own boyfriend)* 2. poor Minato probably foreshadowing his own fall. If Onodera happens to be a woman with a d**k, she can do whatever Minato thinks a cis man only can do. That's not what will make Shizuma stay by his side. Shizuma will stay by his side because he loves Minato. And that's that. Debunks biphobic myths, debunks transphobic myths. *He's not a bad person, he's got issues

Okay, this is probably as straight-forward as I can say this, but I just want to say that I don't know enough about the issues faced by the LGBTQI+ community. My friends have kindly answered all my questions so far as I don't want to be ignorant or rude when learning more about my friends and the community. I don't want to give off the air that I'm assuming anything since I don't want any misunderstandings. And I am fully aware that I need to educate myself more regarding this!

So about Minato, I'm not completely sure what you mean by number 2. But he definitely has his share of trauma, insecurities, and fears regarding his relationship with Shizuma. Having Onodera as a threat in this story really helps drive Minato's growth. The story is titled Therapy Game Restart, so what I gather from the title is that Minato is going to face another fear/insecurity he has, something deeply-rooted in him, and it's going to get really heavy and complicated, but he will eventually get through it and it will help him heal and grow as a character, and hopefully strengthen his faith in his relationship with Shizuma.

So far, I believe this "fear" is carrying on from +Play More, that Shizuma can be whisked away by a female at any moment.

But yes, Minato has to realise for himself that his and Shizuma's love, relationship, and bond is strong enough for him to not worry about Shizuma leaving him so abruptly. He has to learn to trust in Shizuma more, and TGR is slowly revealing that, especially in chapter 13.

I'll stop here. I have already written long analyses on this series and I think about making them public at some point. But it would be nice to hear from you! Maybe I'm completely wrong in my interpretations! I'm really sorry for being so annoying and maybe using inappropriate language. I really didn't mean to bother you. But I never see anyone making these points. I just want to know if I'm thinking unreasonably...

I love reading different analyses, opinions, story predictions, the whole lot!! So please feel free to ask me or post your own ideas. It's always a welcome thing for me to discuss stories and learn new things! Don't be sorry that you're being a bother or annoying, because it's not a bother at all!

We're all allowed to have our own ideas and opinions about stories, and these ideas will change once something is canon in the story, and ultimately is something we will have to accept too.

So yeah, just my two cents. Thank you for being so patient with my response, dear Anon!

To anyone reading at this point, thank you for reading this far! ❤️💛💜

I shall see you in our next set of takeaways~ As always, stay safe and take care of yourselves and your loved ones! 💜

(2021-05-17: Speedy proofreading is done ahah! And yes, my brain is still so full of 山河令/Word of Honor right now, so I have been VERY distracted! Highly recommend this drama, guys! It's up for free on the official Youku Youtube page! Totally not an endorsement, but I love this drama! AHHHHH!! Gong Jun [Simon] be living on my mind rent free~)

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unholyplumpprincess · 3 years

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Won’t Say I’m In Love

A commission for Anonymous with a trans dude and Loba!

Summary: In which reader is Loba's sugar baby/friend with benefit who she loves to shower gifts upon. When reader starts expressing interest and complimenting her, realizing she gets flustered when the attention is turned to her, it makes courting her and making it. Obvious they'd like more a little more difficult. Nothing that can't be solved with a little bump n grind, right?...Right?

Reblogs > Likes. It costs zero dollars to reblog :D

Minors and ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked!

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Loba Andrade/Reader

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Loba is a trans woman and her bits are referred to as cock/dick, Reader is a trans man with top surgery and no bottom surgery and parts are referred to as cock/dick/hole, reader is penetrated, sugar mommy relationship BUT WITHOUT THE MOMMY INVOLVED, FWB to romance, talk of transitioning and the stuff that comes with it, Loba nuts in ya, aaaand fluff!

Words: 5.1k

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Loba, to you, was everything.

Perhaps that’s a bit of a stretch. But in times like this, you can’t imagine her out of your life. Not when her smile is etched into your memory, dimples on her cheeks and pearly whites reminding you of a wolf’s. Or how her eyes narrow dangerously when you tease her, a smile playing on her lips as she coos to you to hand over the last treat in the kitchen before you run squealing after you shove it in your mouth. Loba, hot on your heels.

Life with her came natural after being in each other’s good graces for so long.

Well.

If you called ‘fuck buddies where she buys you things all the time’ good graces. A certified sugar mama.

~Rest under the cut~

Your meeting had been a business strict one at first. She was the girl people went to when things were stolen from them or they had specific desires. In your case, a precious family heirloom had been stolen from you by Hammond. That family member that had been working on cracking a code to work into their system had mysteriously disappeared, leaving you with a precious family ring that you cherished. Yet, somehow, it had gone missing, the only lead being of a ripped jacket by the window with an H symbol on it.

Loba was a person you’d heard of who could get anything from anyone, and when you’d found her, given her all the details and your own sob story. She’d hummed, drawing her manicured fingers across your cheeks and cooed about how pretty a gem you were yourself. When your cheeks had flared red, she’d smirked, patted your cheek and told you that it would be done within the week. Since she was going that way anyway.

When you’d received an anonymous text fit with a wolf emoji, you’d hurried quickly over to the underground area where she’d resided. The neon red lights had looked beautiful on her, made her look dangerous in the alleyway where she’d sat upon a box as if it were a throne. You thanked her a million times over, offering money, even some other jewelry that you’d been given that you had no need for. Yet you knew it was expensive.

Loba had refused, and instead had risen from her spot where she’d been sitting. Circling you like you were prey and making a mention about how she knew you were struggling to keep your apartment going, how it would be dangerous for you to go back. Not knowing how or why she brought it up, at first you bristled, holding the ring close to your chest in fear she would take it.

But, instead, she offers you her gloved hand, a smile on her face and a tilt to her head. “As I told you when you had arrived, you are a beautiful gem yourself. I could take care of you. Would you like to be the new addition to my collection?”

At first, you’d been flustered, a little shocked, and suspicious. But now? Now it all made sense.

Loba loved to shower you in gifts and compliments. She’d always called you the prized jewel of her collection. A collection that you’d seen and wandered through numerous times by now. Of golds, silvers, diamonds, arts, priceless artifacts, all the riches in the world for the woman who had everything. And she had almost everything. Including a found family.

With Loba, you, and Jaime? You were your own family. The trio out in the world with a home base and all the riches you could have ever wanted- thanks to Loba, that is. Not that it was hard for her, one of the best thieves in the world. Her jump bracelet made that much so easy. And she always loved to gift you things from her finding that she thought you would look pretty in.

Whatever you wanted.

The first time she’d offered you something, a beautiful pearl choker, you’d kind of laughed with a flushed face. No one had ever gifted you jewelry before, let alone been delighted TO give you it. But when you reached for it, she teased you, holding it just out of reach and said she’d like to put it on you. Resulting with her manicured fingers lightly brushing your skin as she stood in front of you, hitching it behind your neck with ease and gently curling a finger underneath the front.

She’d tugged you closer that day as your face burned, head tipped up to look at her. Loba had already been tall, but when she wore heels it was even worse with you. Yet, she’d grinned, tilted her head, eyes flickering down to your lips and murmured, “Do I get a little gift in return?” With such softness, eyes twinkling with mischief.

It wasn’t as if you two hadn’t been playing essentially gay chicken this entire time. You were obviously sexually into her, as she was to you. So, with your lips quivering, you’d nodded, murmuring back, “Anything you want.”

“That’s what I like to hear, sweetheart.” She’d cooed before pressing the softest kiss upon your lips and leaving you wanting more as she pulled back and gently patted your cheek.

And you were left to watch her saunter off, eyes falling to her ass without thinking about it and your fingers touching your lips where you felt the slickness of her gloss lingering.

From there, the teasing escalated. Until your relationship developed more into a ‘friends with benefits’ situation or even a ‘sugar mommy’ situation. Sans the calling her mommy part, wasn’t really your thing. She gave you gifts, showered you in them really, and in return you two had some killer sex. You figured it was a win all around for you.

When you got pretty things to adorn your body with, and you got to hold onto a headboard with your head thrown back as her mouth made quick work of you. Where was the loss in that scenario? Well, maybe the lipstick stains on your inner thighs or...or...

Or maybe you knew exactly what it was. Because after time went on, your sexual feelings finally revealed themselves to actually be disguised romantic feelings. Cracking open like pouring light whenever she walked into the room and you had to push them down and swallow your pride.

That’s where your loss was.

It had started pretty small a few months ago. You just started to notice different ways Loba dressed, or how she had her hair some days. Some days her makeup would change and you would compliment it genuinely, only to have her black lipstick covered lips playfully smirk your way and offer for you to try it out personally.

Hey, you weren’t complaining about walking around with a kiss print on your neck or cheek.

But you were mentally complaining about how fast your heart had beat at such a simple action. How you’d touched your cheek when she wasn’t looking and smiled to yourself like you were some sort of schoolboy incapable of reeling in your crush.

You mentally groaned to yourself. You were NOT about to ruin anything for her.

Loba, you thought, deserved love and happiness. You contemplated that maybe...just maybe you could be the one to give that to her. But, you knew her, you knew her very well for that matter. If affection was genuine, she’d become flustered and nervous and try to find a way to turn it sexual or into a flirt. She could flirt her way through anything, but if you so much as tucked her hair behind her ear and told her she looked pretty that day, she’d almost choke and try to turn the situation back.

You tried to give back what she gave you, trying to adore her, only to have her try and hide her flustered appearance by trying to flirt you up. Or slamming you against a wall and cooing about how you were pushing her buttons.

She was good at hiding her emotions in a way you wouldn’t expect her to. Instead of shying off or shutting down, Loba had learned to laugh her way out of situations and compliment you. Pinching your cheek and calling you sweet. The love- the romance she’d been deprived of didn’t go unknown to you. She didn’t trust easily, and she was happy with you and Jaime being her family.

At least, that’s as far as you knew.

What you didn’t know is that her feelings matched your own. That every extra glance you stole her way, she noticed and tried not to think anything of. But sometimes, sometimes when she was fucking you, she imagined you holding on tight to her and murmuring sweet nothings. Or instead of coming to her room for a ‘nightly visit’, that you’d spend the night and let her hold you quietly in her arms and wake up to see you just the same.

Mutual feelings that neither of you knew the other had.

Eventually you figured you needed to own up to it. And that’s what you were trying to plan right now. It’s with a breath that you come to the decision that maybe you could...show her instead.

Yeah, yeah that sounded better.

So, when Loba comes home tonight, smiling brightly as she swings a beautiful diamond necklace around a finger and announcing to you and Jaime, “Mama’s home, boys! Did you miss me?” With fondness in her voice and her eyes flicking over you to hint that she had a gift for you- that is when you decide now is a good time to strike.

After dinner is had and Loba has put her necklace in a beautiful glass case to admire it, you come towards her little den area. It was a big, rounded room, wall to wall full of her jewels and findings. Ranging from pearl necklaces to priceless artifacts. Beautiful art pieces were hung on the walls all around it with lights to ensure that the jewels down below would glitter and gleam in any lighting. You rest yourself on the doorway as you watch her, admiring her from afar as she looks to the sparkling necklace with glee in her eyes.

“Ah, so beautiful. Don’t you think?” Loba sighs at her necklace, before her eyes flick up to you in the doorway. Her eyes sparkle with that same look from earlier, mischief dancing in them as she saunters up to you slowly. As if a predator with its prey. You’d lie if you said your heart didn’t skip three beats.

“Yeah, I think you are, actually.” You coyly respond, going so far as to flutter your lashes as she rests an arm beside your head. Her grin is amused, rolling her eyes and using her free hand to gently grab your chin, tilting your head this way and that. Always inspecting you.

Her prized possession.

“Ha-ha, very cute. How many times have you tried that one, love?” She teases, tapping her manicured nail on your cheek twice. You smile fondly at the nickname, pretending it didn’t make you near about squirm out of your spot. But your heart lurches in your chest when she speaks much softer, tracing along your jawline with her fingertips. “I have a gift for you.”

“I was going to tell you the same thing.”

That piques Loba’s interest, her mischievous look pausing for surprise to overtake her features. Her glossy lips part in surprise, her eyes moving from the stare on your lips to flick up to your eyes as her brows furrow briefly.

She looked adorable.

Fuck.

“A gift? For me? Isn’t that my job?” Loba laughs a bit, taking a step back and cocking her head, her long braids following. She looked just like a puppy. You swallow down your racing heartbeat as you try to figure out how to bring it up.

“Later- in the bedroom.” You promise. A familiar phrase that makes her pupils widen, a smirk falling to her face instead, a bit more confidence to her purr as she affectionately pinches your cheek.

“I eagerly await your acquaintance tonight, then. But, for now, let me show you the ring I found you, darling!”

You’re going to die.

The ring she’d found you had been gorgeous- she'd yet to gift you a ring yet. Loba once had said that seemed a little too intimate of a gift. You never asked why, but now that you’ve been gifted one, looking at the gold band with a beautiful simple style with three gems in each twirl of its vine-like look.

Well, you can’t help but think either she’s gotten used to you or maybe...maybe it had a purpose.

Either way, it helps you feel more confident about what you’re going to try tonight. Walking with a bit more confidence as you head to her bedroom. You hardly have the time to knock before she’s opening the door, yanking you inside, and pushing you against the door to kiss you.

Loba is stripped down for the night. Her twin braids traded to let her curly hair down, the ombre look towards the tips of her bright red hair reaching about mid-back and splaying around her beautifully. Her outfit has been swapped to something a bit more practical of a black lacy bralette and stretchy short shorts, revealing her long legs and the beautiful vine-like tattoos with flowers curling on her outer thighs, edging up her hips to her waist.

Your hands come up, but are immediately caught by her. Her fingers lace in yours, pulling your hands to rest beside your head against the door as you moan into her mouth. Your reward is a soft laugh, her teeth nipping your bottom lip before trailing her glossy, full lips over your chin, down your jawline to your neck.

“Wait, wait-” You manage to breathe out when her lips press to the length of your neck. Immediately Loba pauses, releasing your hands and backing up. Concern and confusion in her eyes, but you quickly let out a laugh, “No, no, I mean- I want to try something different tonight...if that’s okay?”

“What like- bondage?”

You about choke, head thunking back against the door as feeling your cheeks warm as you try to think of how to word it. It’s kinda of hard when she’s now idly kissing at your neck, lips parting to suckle on a sensitive spot of yours that makes your hips jerk. But you manage to breathe it out, “I want to take care of you tonight.”

Then it’s Loba’s turn to choke. Pulling back away from her spot to give you a curious look, if flustered. Her own face is red, looking apprehensive about the idea, but you quickly add in. “If you don’t like it, truly don’t like it, we’ll stop immediately, okay? I promise.”

And then you have her. Just with that extra security.

“You better make it worth my while.” She huffs almost in an embarrassed tone. But her voice is playful, despite the way you notice how she swallows and her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. And you know it isn’t the fact she doesn’t want it, it’s because she’s used to being in control. And not that you don’t like her taking control of you but...

Sometimes you just wanted to treat her right. Show her how much she meant to you.

You suppose sex was better than trying to sit her down for a conversation and talk about your feelings with eye contact involved and your running mouth.

You start gentle with her, leading her to the bed and guiding her to lie down. You start with something simple as a makeout session. Straddling her hips so she can feel the heat of your body through your sweatpants and t-shirt. You lean into her, cupping her cheek and pushing her hair from her face as you kiss her so gently, stroking your thumb over her cheekbone. You make sure not to let her guide the kiss, but let her grab your hips, feeling her fingers slide under the waistband to touch your skin.

When you lick into Loba’s mouth, her breath hitches, her hips coming up to press against you and you follow the motion by pressing down to give her some pressure. Your own breath is shaky when her hands slide down to your ass under your pants, tugging you gently to get you to grind.

Control- normally you’d follow like the good boy she’d claimed you to be but...

You immediately part from the kiss, delighting quietly in how she whines. However, delighting even more when her eyes shoot open and she whines louder when you take her hands and pull them above her head. You interlock your fingers, hovering your lips just out of reach when she tries to lean up and get at you again, but realizing quickly that she can’t. Loba groans.

It’s quiet submission when her head rests back on the pillow, a shaky breath leaving her lips as her eyes fall to your mouth. She pouts her prettiest when you give her a look, huffing under you and rolling her eyes. “What? Do you want me to say ‘please’?”

“It’s a start to getting what you want, Ms. Andrade, don’t you think?” You tease in a mocking tone, causing her eyes to narrow up at you. There’s another huff from her, her fingers flexing in a nervous way in your grip. You wait patiently above her, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Pl-...” Loba pauses, swallowing before shakily exhaling through her nose. Her eyes flicker to the side as if flustered, rolling upwards as if trying to will herself to speak. You try to ignore the way you feel her cock jerk under your ass, but you can’t ignore the pride you feel knowing she liked this.

“Please, please do something more. Please don’t tease me? Aren’t I good to you, baby?” She begs her prettiest, ending it with a shaky noise, her cheeks flushed red and her lips pulling into a pretty pout that you can’t help but kiss to soothe away her embarrassment.

You murmur sweet nothings against her mouth that you hope she doesn’t catch as you kiss your way down her neck. You only need to scoot down her body a little, moving to fit between her legs rather than straddle her.

You let her hands go, watching with delight as they stay right where you put them as your own pull up her bralette to reveal her chest. She’s got nice breasts, rounded and about a C cup. You know from her talking about it that she’d gotten them filled in the past, all decorated with pretty silver barbells through each nipple and her underbreast tattoo curling between her chest.

You press your mouth at the freckles dotting the upper edges of her breasts, nosing your way down the path of her flesh until you can gingerly cup her breast. You relish the way her breath hitches in anticipation when you mouth at her nipple, pressing soft, fluttering, wet kisses until she whines softly under her breath.

She really can’t blame you for drawing it out, right? For adoring every inch of her? You’d never been able to seen her like this before, how she squirms, trying to be good underneath you and not take over. It’s the best you could have asked of her. To try.

You smile against her skin before you take her nipple into your mouth and begin suckling. Letting your tongue flick back and forth over it to feel the shape of her barbell idly. Loba’s sounds are soft, gentle little sighs as her hips gently press up against you to get some pressure. You hum against her in reply when her hand rests in your hair, gently stroking and pressing to encourage you to touch her more.

A moan escapes her lips when you let your teeth gingerly scrape across the sensitive flesh, coming off of her with a wet pop. You nuzzle between her chest with a soft sigh of, “You’re so beautiful.” Your tone dripping with honesty as you kiss down her ribcage, towards her abdomen.

Normally she’s talkative during sessions like this, liking to pull your hair and show you who’s in charge. But now when you look up, all you can see is her head turned to the side, her cheeks red and her lips parted to shallowly breathe. You’ve never felt prouder of yourself.

When you reach the waistband of her short, you peer up at her under your lashes, gently tugging at the band. “Can I take these off?”

“Please.” She replies, completely unprompted with a shaky breath following and her eyes peering open to look down at you. Her gaze makes you feel hot, your chest bursting with adoration that you can only hope your eyes mimic.

You gently pull them off and toss them to the side. You move to sit up on your knees, gently rubbing at her thighs as your eyes flicker to her cock. She was about six inches long and uncut with foreskin only reaching just under the head. She’d shared with you that she was thankful that the future medical technology allowed her to decide the option on being able to get hard and remain fertile. Just as you’d shared you were thankful that getting top surgery had become less dangerous over so many years in the making.

Small things to share with her in those quiet moments you two could relate to each other.

Now, you run a hand along her inner thigh, sliding over her shaved mound as you quietly ask, “What are your feelings on penetrating me today?” To let her know in turn you wanted that. Of course, if she didn’t, you’d happily find your favorite cock and strap it in.

“Please,” She says again, practically music to your ears by now. “I want to be inside you- let me touch you, little pup, please? I’ll be on my best behavior.” Loba’s voice is near desperate as she looks down at you. Sitting up on her elbows to see you better. Your face flushes at the nickname, almost tempted to scold her for it, but the way she looks at you...

Her eyes are full of something you’ve seen before. Never taking the time to see. Adoration. Her pupils are blown wide, her lips parted and her eyes roaming across your frame before coming back to your eyes. Her brows furrow briefly, this desperate look crossing her face as she tries again, “Let me see your cock, baby, let me taste you?”

It’s filth. Yet she sounds so fucking soft when she says it that you can’t help but swallow down a whine.

In a matter of moments, you’re stripping from your clothing. Your sweatpants get tossed with your shirt, but before you can get to your underwear Loba is already helping you out of it. Her fingers eagerly grab your hips, but she learns quickly because she doesn’t pull you. Letting you move your own body until your thighs can frame her face.

You reach down to pull on your mound, exposing your cock to her. You’re hard already, your hole drooling with slick from the excitement from seeing her so open earlier. Loba knows how you like it, hooking her arms around your thighs to hold you as her eyes go half lidded to watch your face. You swallow thickly, biting your bottom lip as her tongue runs from your hole, up to the underside of your dick in a fluid swipe.

Kitten licks like that repeat a few times, being mindful of how sensitive your engorged cock could be right off the bat. You shakily exhale through your nose when her lips part, letting the piercing on her tongue rest on the underside of your clit and her breath fanning across you hotly.

When she finally takes you into her mouth, you let out a moan and use your free hand to rest in her hair. The smile you feel against your wet flesh should make you flustered, but not as much as when she looks up at you under her lashes with such adoration. She lets you take the reins, gently humping against her mouth and taking things at your pace. It’s the most control you’ve had in a while, but your mouth starts working before you can even think, “Fuck- you’re so beautiful, babe.”

The blush that reddens her cheeks fuels both her own motions and your mouth as you moan low in your throat just to hear her moan low back at you in turn as she licks up your cock. “Good- good that feels s...so good-” You don’t expect her to react so well to your voice, let alone praise. But you feel her nails dig into your thighs, able to see the way she parts her lips, glossy now from your slick and seeing it stick to her tongue-

It’s too much.

There’s almost a rush as you squirm out of her grasp to move down to her lap to straddle her again. You’d tell her to finger you, but one look at her nails proves why that’s a hassle. Thankfully when you sink your own fingers into yourself, you find your walls are wet and pliant. But for good measure you still ask her for the lube to prep her own cock. Stroking her cock whilst you rest on her thighs, able to watch her eyes flutter and how her fingers twist into the pillow she’s got her head on.

“Ready?” You ask, pulling yourself closer so you can slide your cock against hers, sandwiching it between your sex to grind back and forth against her. Loba quickly nods, her hands moving to grab your hips and squeezing eagerly, but you hum again. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes! Yes, yes, baby- yes, I want it, I want you, please!” Loba all but whines, her look frantic again as she gently pulls you. You follow the motion, lining her up before sliding down onto her with a gasp.

Loba’s reaction is immediate, always so sensitive when you envelop her. She’s got her nails pressing into your hips, her face contorted and her head tossed to the side with pure pleasure written across her features. It makes you feel proud that you could just do that with your body, that you’re the one making her look like that.

Your emotions are swelling up in your chest.

You push them down for the sake of resting your hands on top of hers on your body. Squeezing them and feeling your heart race when she maneuvers so her fingers can intertwine with yours. Your breath hitches, but that can easily be passed off for your hips grinding on their own, grinding your fat cock against her mound and feeling the way she shifts in you.

Her soft moan and the way her fingers squeeze yours make you dizzy.

Don’t think about it, you remind yourself.

Your breath quickens as you lean forward and begin riding her. Only pulling yourself up an inch or two and sliding yourself back down onto her cock. Your toes curl, squeezing her hands a bit tighter and about whining when she starts to pull her hands back. But you figure out why when she holds them up at about her waist level, lacing your fingers with hers to give you more leverage to fuck yourself onto her.

Don’t think about it, you again think to yourself, your brain clouded with lust and adoration.

“You’re so handsome,” Loba mumbles out, and when you finally urge yourself to flutter open your eyes, she’s looking at you. She’s panting softly, brows furrowed in a look of pleasure. You swallow the whimper in your throat so you can instead move yourself to almost lie on top of her. Letting her hands go to rest your arms on either side of her head and bringing her into a kiss.

Her hands slide over your body then, sliding down your sides to your hips, to your ass to graciously grab as you fuck yourself onto her. You moan into her mouth, feeling her follow the motion with her own soft noise in her throat.

Don’t think about it, you try so desperately to tell yourself as the knot forms in your stomach.

You have to break the kiss, tucking yourself into her neck. Loba is holding onto you now, her hands resting flat on your back and dragging her nails down your skin. You whine into her ear as your inner walls clench, your cock humping against her shaved mound and keeping your body extremely interested. It comes tumbling out before you can think of it, “Fuck- fuck, fuck, shit- Loba, Loba-”

Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it-

“I love you-” Loba whines in your ear, causing your heart to near about beat out of your chest thinking you’d imagined it. But you feel her lips move against your neck next time, “I love you. Let me- ah- let me cum inside you, baby, please, please, please-”

It’s all a blur. The way your chest pounds and how hard you cum. You can hear her cumming not soon after you, her nails sinking into your back and her teeth sinking into your shoulder to quiet down her beautiful moans. You think you’re dehydrated, your brain must have lost oxygen at some point- but you felt it. You heard it.

As you two are coming down, you urge yourself to sit up in her lap. Watching as her hand slides through her hair to push the strands from her face, how her chest rises and falls with her breaths, trying to make it out in your head as you open and close your mouth like a fish.

“What?” She laughs, reaching up to gently cup your cheek. “You weren’t going to say it, I figured--”

“You knew?!” You cry out, flustered and feeling your own face heat up in embarrassment- yet relief floods your chest.

“I had a feeling.”

“A feeling?!” You cry out again, this time more distraught. But it quickly dies down when her thumb brushes along your cheek bone, urging you to lean into her touch and settle down. Though you see the look in her eyes of almost uncertainty- worry perhaps.

With a shaky breath, you turn and kiss her palm. “I...I love you as well, ya know?”

“I know, baby.”

“Don’t be so smug about it!”

Her melodic laugh is quickly smothered by the pillow you throw in her face, only for you to nearly get knocked off her lap when she takes it and throws it right back at you with a victorious cry.

Fuck you love her.

#Loba #Loba Andrade #Loba x Reader #Apex legends #apex lemons #trans male reader #nsft #lemon #commissions #princess writing

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sweet-xoxo-thatcares · 3 years

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Pan? Polysexual sounds better now

Back to guys, gay girls, nonbinaries, pan, bi, gender-fluid, and queer people.

I might have to take a recap on matches who are trans for right now,

I still have a lot to learn about what my true identity is for right now.

Because I really can't stick to just one label...

Aye, that's just me. And dating apps are starting to feel like a job, there's too many people matching with me and trying to remember names is getting a lot to handle when you're on 3 different apps and about 20 conversations going at the same time. And still 99 people waiting on you to swipe right on them, on each one. And plus I'm not as picky about looks as I was before, so I'm mostly reading just bios, analyzing photos to see what could be their interests in, and making sure I'm not being too passive on red flags when people talk to you.

I will admit, I still swipe right on them if they're trans and I'm attracted to them. I just know me, I'd rather date someone who was fully transitioned or somebody who is still on the nonbinary, before part. Only because I know me.

I had to watch someone I had already grown into getting to know and getting attached to, and then when I finally got comfortable with them for over a yr, they changed that drastically during those 3months we were separate and I had no idea about it.....I'm not sure if I could watch it happen before my eyes. Cause then I would have to miss the way they were before, because of my attraction to their naturally mixed feminine/masculine looking features and actions. So, ideally I wouldn't have changed anything about them.

I don't wanna grow attached to a voice or a face or a body that will no longer be there tomorrow. I know that person before is still in there, but it's different when you're romantically attracted to them, been intimate with them vs when you're just a friend. My experience shocked and scared my paranoia and fear of change. I remember crying when my dad started growing white and grey hairs in his beard. Cause I never want my dad to change, cause I've grown up with him being this strong man that always was there for me, held me, made me feel safe, calmed me down when I had my moments, and tucked me in when I wanted to feel comfortable. He showed me that he always loved me, always cared about me, and that he was never gonna leave me. As if he's never gonna die during my time on this earth. Seeing his greyishly, white hairs, I thought death and that my daddy will soon no longer be the fun, happy, strong dad that I've always been with as his princess. And that's kind of what vibe this particular person was to me, even though they weren't as smart, strong, or always there for me....cause most of the time my nights alone cause they couldn't or didn't know I needed them to be there fo r me like that to feel loved or just to feel wanted. Cause I couldn't speak up.

But now, that they has turned into a he. I feel like its brutally denying me to chance to not only say goodbye to them as they, but I would have to get reacquainted to HE, with a totally different name, maybe different personality, maybe different sexuality, and I won't know if I like the new evolved version of this person. The fear of the unknown is high for me. Especially when there's a 40% rate of fems that decided to change their sexual orientation after taking testosterone. I 'm possessive about my partners and I would hate to know that after seeing this person physically change and go through so much emotional/mental changes that one day they decide "Hey, I think I like men now, I wanna give this a shot. Could we make this work?"

I would tell Him, to go right ahead and go on a date with that coworker or guy on Tinder/Grinder. But I'm not gonna be here when you come home. Because to me that's some bullshit. And I've known this person well enough to know, that they don't mind using other people to meet their sexual needs that I can't possibly give them due to my actual gender and my body as such. I wouldn't want to share my partner, nor watch them get fucked by another man...because I'm not a man, im a woman...theres a huuuuuugggeeee difference.

And if it ever came to that point 3 yrs later and He became someone I didn't know anymore, because of the hormones changing how they feel as a man, dysphoria gone....I get it, you've hated yourself for years and now you're happy in the dream body you always asked for. But, I would be scared to lose you, to whoever else you decide to open up to in your selections. Cause you're that type to leave to please you and not make it work. I don't want somebody who changes their mind all the time about who they wanna be, who else do they wanna smash, and who else they can flirt with. That's cheater mentality.

And I'm sorry trans community that I'm basing my recent experience with someone as the example for the rest of you. Because I know there are some ftm's who've already changed and stayed with their partners. I just don't know if I could trust this process, knowing the effects, the research on whether or not they become completely detached to women or become bisexual... I can't.

And I'm thankful for the ftm's that have been posting youtube videos and tiktoks for viewers like me who are curious about the possible cons, and physical or emotional changes they've overcome. I was shocked the first time I ever watched a bandaged ftm, who finally unrevealed their scars from top surgery. I've always been preparing myself for this. Because I knew one day, that this cute, fluffy, soft skinned, white latino looking, but really just mixed mocha, nonbinary person was gonna be...changed over a year or so. I thought I could prepare for it, so that when it does happen it doesn't hurt as much to watch to them in pain if the bleeding from the scars are irritating them or if one day they're super cranky and obnoxious for what seems to be no reason. Or if one day they end up feeling they dont need anybody like Zanthos, with the 4 avenger rings lol.

But I'm too damn fucking sensitive. I was born this way. I've always prepared myself with the worst and the best information, that way when it does happen, the tidal wave of emotions from the reaction, doesn't end up torching my soul or blowing me out the water. Cause I am gay. I adore women, men, and when I met this person I loved them as an in-betweener as nonbinary. They are so brutally harsh, twisted, manipulative, jealous, and possesive. But I've always liked that they had these emotions inside of them that they hold back because they don't wanna seem so soft, always hiding this feminine quality about them because ideally, they're pretty looking, gorgeous eyes that can turn black cold like obsidian, and those fucking cheeks and cat nose. I've only seen the slight hips, but I didn't mind it. And they've always hid their body away even when we would try to have sex. I knew the dysphoria was there, cause again I prepared myself to be patient and kind.

So, I'm glad they're turning a new leaf to make themselves feel more confident about being recognized in society as a full, grown ass man. I'm pretty sure HE, is gonna get cocky af, cause that's just the way he was when they were they.

I know it's selfish of me to say, but I'm afraid of what will happen down the line years later. But that's just me being afraid. If He ends up not liking me anymore, I know it won't be the end of the world and I walked away at the right time when I did. Because this person is currently separated from me, and I'm still insecure about that part too. Not knowing how they are during this transition for what may become years or not...I hope HE is doing okay and not piercing everyone with their new, world domination, ego.

I just don't wanna imagine them get fucked by a guy....sorry that's just me. And will their buttery ass kisses, still be as sweet anymore?

Will I be ok with HE having chest hair?

Will I love the sound of their new voice or will I just hate it, while still missing the old, brodie, sexy, slightly feminine voice?

Especially when they used to go all soft and cuddly on me over the phone, it was soooo cuteeee. I miss our phone and text conversations.

Will they grow into another relationship with somebody else because they started to become unattached and unattracted to my body, my tits, my hips, my vagina even....just because they completely changed their identity?

And I still a woman? I've only thought about wearing a binder a couple of times, and yes, I do watch ftm and trans porn because I did like the fantasy of being intimate with someone who had a bigger clit size or just having a big clit of my own that felt like a dick.

I'm willing to admit that. Because let's be honest, boys get away with so much more shit as a male, compared to us females.

I wish I could grow a dick overnight and nobody not know I'm still a chick! Lol, but I still don't like the all over hair body growth and I still want my vagina back. Like a rental suit with an actual dick and no tits. Those are the onllyyyyyyyyy things I've thought about, but would never admit out loud. Only because I still like my body and my gender identity as is. I feel like the blue girl from X-Men could get away with it, cause she can be anybody she wants to and go back to being herself at the end of the day. And still camouflage behind walls. Lucky chick. Especially if she could teleport, oh he'll yeah.

It's gonna take me awhile to get over this, so please be patient with me. As I'm trying not to cry as I watch my ftm porn get fucked by a guy. Cause I used to be heavy into it, now I feel wrong for watching it and then I'm reminded "40% chance, you're watching it" 😞🤮😫

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that-crow-is-a-raven · 3 years

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Ok I'm feeling emotional so it'll be kinda a long post but idk how to put in under cut on the app.

Sometimes I feel really really alone in my being a non binary bisexual still questioning person because when I started questioning my gender I literally didn't talk to anyone about it for two years despite my closest friends at the time being my probably literal soulmate and a queer trans man who I've known long before he understood his gender and I still need said anything because I was in denial and I was scared and being non binary wasn't something I ever understood before and I didn't know what to do and what to think but I knew that I spent half the day in my head imagining if only I could just change my agab or gender presentation at choice and people seeing my as a boy, then a girl, then something else then nothing then everything.

Timeskip I've fallen out of touch with my friend and I'm aware at least 80% of it is because of my inability to keep long lasting relationships and the rest other stuff but I still miss him but I'm scared of reaching out because it's been so long and I barely talk to 2 people not family in a good day and there's the pandemic and a lot other reasons. And he's still one of the must inspiring proud and unapologetic people I've ever met.

Now I hang in a group with a genderfluid feminine person who takes shit from no one and presents similarly to their agab and their probably the only reason I felt safe coming out to this group and sometimes we have gender talks and it's WOW.

Then there's this cis wlw who wants to have top surgery and after I came out asked me if I knew anything about binder and we started talking and she's been so encouraging and always asks my pronouns because I change them a lot and her boyfriend who invented a new nickname because he didn't want to misgender me but didn't know how to ask and he's the first person I ever told I wasn't a girl and we were half drunk on a boat and hugged me when I came out to the group and keeps reminding me that I deserve to be called with the right pronouns and name and I shouldn't settle for any less.

Then there's my best friend possibly soulmate wife (inside joke between us) who was the second to know and the first to use gender neutral pronouns (*in Italy) and says she's lucky because she got bff wife and husband in the same package and reminds me I'm not a fake or a fraud or anything else, I'm just me. And I actually came out to her because I was furious with my mother for initially "defending jkr*" when I was having another gender crisis and I needed to talk to someone and she started insulting that woman even more than me and didn't mention harry potter to me for months until I gave her the ok because she knows I can't stand it anymore and in general helps me so much when I have gender thoughts.

All of that to say that I'm so glad I met those people and many others, I'm so glad I heard about they/them pronouns and started following non binary and genderqueer creators and seeing real life people like me and they just keep popping out and I'm so happy and sometimes (like tonight) I think what could've happened if I was exposed to this world sooner. Maybe my childhood and that sense of "there's something wrong but I can't get what" would've make sense sooner. Or if I'd ever understood it at all if I hadn't seen and met people with those experiences and started seeing myself in them.

In conclusion I want a binder and a short cut but I can't get either and my hair are getting longer and I can't go cut them and I want to see my friends but you know the pandemic.

#sorry i had to get it out #my friends are never gonna read that but it's dedicated to them #long post #trans experience #non binary experience #tw jk rowling #vent post #venting #about me #personal #my life #non binary #rant #if someone knows how to put long post under thw cut can tell me?#sorry if they are errors but it's late night and I should've studied art but i wrote this instead and I haven't been feeling well #tw harry potter

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notquiteaghost · 5 years

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there isn't enough nonbinary jon sims content, here is... well i started writing this as headcanons but this is really a not!fic about nonbinary jon sims. it’s 3′300 words

it contains: nonbinary trans masc autistic jon, jongeorgie, lesbian georgie, trans guy martin & tim, trans woman sasha, team archives trans solidarity, and not-insignificant amount of internalised transphobia and references to misgendering & general cis people bullshit

(also ftr i am heavily basing jon's experiences here as a nonbinary autistic person on my own experiences as a nonbinary autistic person) (this is like 80% projection) (what else is fandom for!)

also on AO3 if you prefer your 3k of bullet points to have better spacing

tiny baby [jon] who knows she isn't very good at being a girl but doesn't have the words to articulate why

her grandmother thinks kids clothes should be durable and practical so even tho jon is not a kid who climbs trees or plays football, her wardrobe is exclusively straight jeans & 'boys' t-shirts & large jumpers

she keeps her hair roughly shoulder length because that's the length it's always been but strangers still 'mistake' her for a boy a lot. this makes her feel a way she again hasn't got the words for

when she starts secondary school she continues to dress 'masc', never starts wearing makeup, never gets any interest in dating, generally fills out the checklist for everyone else assuming she's a lesbian

she knows she's definitely not a straight girl, so she shrugs and decides sure, she's a lesbian. it's a moot point, mostly, seeing as even if she did have any interest in dating she's the only gay person her age she knows

but she does get involved in some community support stuff – she spends a lot of time in the library as a teenager, and one of the librarians is a lesbian who takes jon under her wing a bit

coffee mornings and book clubs and things like that. sixteen year old jon and a dozen queer women all in their late twenties at the youngest. they joke a lot how often they forget jon isn't also a thirty-something

(this is that autism feel of having no interest in your peers but getting on great with adults)

and then she goes to uni, and then she meets georgie

georgie is a Very Out lesbian. she goes to clubs, she's heavily involved in the lgbt society, she has a rainbow flag hanging in her bedroom window. yknow.

jon likes her a lot, and still isn't really sure if it's romantic or not, but assumes that's more due to being gay than anything else

(no one has told jon about asexuality yet)

so when, one night when they're meant to be studying in georgie's room but instead are mostly drinking shit cheap wine and complaining about their professors, georgie looks at jon with this soft look on her face and asks to kiss her, jon says yes

and then they date

they're both living in one of those massive student houses with a thousand bedrooms crammed everywhere and only a kitchen for a communal space. georgie has lived there since coming back to finish first year, and jon moved in halfway through second year after a somewhat disastrous flatmate situation

so after they graduate, moving in together seems like the natural progression of things even tho they’ve only been dating for two months

jon is still, when asked, identifying as a lesbian and using she/her, but is also still dressing what other people now call butch. she always feels kind of weird about that term, but again, just chalks it up to the mess of complicated feelings being a gnc lesbian does genuinely involve

and then, finally, jon meets some actual trans people

jon has, circumstantially, known trans people. thanks to georgie, jon goes to a lot of lgbt soc things, and is passingly familiar with most of the lgbt people on their campus

but there’s a big difference between nodding at someone when you see them in the library and having an actual, proper conversation about gender

so, jon goes to a lot of social events because georgie does. without georgie, jon would probably not leave the house except to go to work and to the library (jon is not doing postgrad. jon’s library habits do not particularly reflect this)

mostly at these events, jon sits in the corner and reads, and only talks to other quiet antisocial people, while georgie circles back periodically to report on her social butterfly escapades

and at one, one of the other quiet antisocial people is a trans guy

he’s called harry, and he asks about the book jon is reading, and after they’ve been talking a while he says, “sorry, you probably get this a lot, but what pronouns do you use?”

jon just blinks at him and says “what”

“well, i’m trans, so i’m always really cautious about assuming,” harry says, easily, and this does not answer the question jon was asking

jon.exe has crashed

she(?) eventually says, “uh. she? i’ve never– she”

and harry, who has spent the last forty minutes discussing dante with jon and is already sure they’re going to be friends, says “want the trans 101? you’re making a face like you need it”

three hours later georgie finally reappears with the intent to actually interrupt (she’s drifted past periodically, but jon was always deep in conversation with harry, so she left them alone) and get going, and jon gets harry’s email address and is then very quiet as they walk arm-in-arm back to their house

just as they turn onto their street, jon says, “i, ah. i think i might be trans?”

georgie, who has for the past couple months been having something of a crisis after realising she definitely loves jon but she isn’t in love and she can’t figure out why, says “oh thank god”

jon, very bemused, “that wasn’t the reaction i was expecting”

“i think we should break up,” georgie replies, and jon stops walking. they’re four feet from their front door, but it’s late, no one’s about, so georgie decides sure, they can have this conversation in the street

“you– because i’m trans?”

“i love you, i really do,” georgie steps closer, takes jon’s hands in hers, “but i’m not in love with you. and it was driving me crazy trying to figure out why, but if you’re not a girl–”

“i can’t tell if i should be offended by this or not,” jon says, somewhat dazed, “i’ve been trans for an hour, georgie, i don’t know if this is transphobic yet”

georgie laughs, and presses a kiss to jon’s cheek, and says “it’s nearly midnight, we both have work tomorrow, let’s table this for later. we can look up names and what word i should use when i complain to other people how you always leave your shoes in the middle of the floor when we aren’t both on the verge of passing out”

and that sounds reasonable, so jon nods, and kisses georgie on the mouth, and then they go inside

the next day jon stops by the library on the way home from work and checks out almost every baby names book they have. georgie comes home and he’s sat at the kitchen table making a spreadsheet

“you don’t have to make it this complicated, you know,” she says, hooking her chin over his shoulder to read what he’s already got. the spreadsheet has a lot of columns.

“it’s my name,” he retorts, and she hums agreeably, then points to ‘jonathan’, which has relatively few ticks in any pro columns (god, this nerd), and says, “isn’t that your grandfather’s name?”

it is. he doesn’t talk about his grandfather a lot – doesn’t talk about his family a lot full stop, but she knows, even though he died when jon was still a toddler, the stories his grandmother told had a significant impact

“my parents didn’t name me after anyone,” jon says, quietly

georgie nods. she doesn’t say they’re not here now to offer an opinion, because that’s far harsher than jon deserves to hear, and it’s not like she ever needs to remind him of it either. he’s definitely already beating himself up for taking so long to come to this realisation there’s no one left around to tell him how they’d have reacted

“i think it suits you,” she says instead, and jon nods, and then she moves away to make a pot of tea and some pasta (it’s technically jon’s night to cook, but she was anticipating coming home to find him already hyperfocused beyond the point of no return)

a week later, jon looks up from the spreadsheet to where georgie is curled up on the sofa reading and says “ugh, fine, you win, you were right”

(georgie hadn’t pressed her point any further, jon is just like that)

“jon?” she asks, and he makes an exasperated noise and nods, then closes his laptop dramatically and stands. most of his spine pops when he stretches

“this calls for celebration” georgie says, also standing, “franco’s or monsoon?”

“franco’s. i’m going to eat a pizza the size of a car”

so then jon is actually going by jon, and using he/him, and isn’t dating georgie anymore but is still living with her and spending most of his time with her and factoring her into all his major decisions

he talks to harry, and other (binary) trans people, and reads a lot of blogs, and after a few months gets a referral to charing cross gic

by the time he starts at the magnus institute, he’s had top surgery and has been on T for years, and passes as cis completely, and he doesn’t know how to articulate it but this is. bothering him.

he’s not exactly… he likes being stealth, he doesn’t need to flaunt his personal life. he can understand the impulse, but he doesn’t share it. his feelings about gender and romance are no one’s business but his own

but. everyone assuming he was a girl itched – being miss simms, georgie’s girlfriend, she, it felt like wearing a coarse knitted jumper. it was exhausting

and, for a while, everyone assuming he was a man was a relief. it didn’t make his skin crawl, it didn’t make him want to scream, it was nice. it felt good.

it didn’t feel right. but it didn’t feel bad, either, and jon has never been gendered in a way that felt right. he thought that was just part of being trans

except. he moves to london, and he starts at the magnus institute, and he wears shirts and slacks, and the long skirts and patterned dresses some of his colleagues wear keep catching his eye the way men in three-piece suits used to, and that terrifies him

he was lucky, in a way, having no family left to care when he transitioned – if anyone reacted negatively, he could just cut them out of his life, and his social circle was already queer enough that was hardly necessary

but that doesn’t mean he escaped internalising a whole swathe of shit about what being trans should mean and how he should act and what he should want and if he wants to wear skirts then is he even a man? was he making it up all along after all?

naturally, he deals with this by ignoring it. he’s a man, men don’t wear skirts, he doesn’t wear skirts, that’s that.

he manages to keep that up until he’s made head archivist, and he’s given three assistants who are all also trans

(he doesn’t know if elias did it on purpose. elias knows he’s trans, of course, because he’s never bothered to get the name on his diploma changed, but the way elias reacted lead jon to assume elias may also be trans. and if that’s true, then selecting only trans people for the archives staff feels like a kindness more than anything)

and, the thing about them all being trans, is even if jon and martin are both rather fond of being stealth, and sasha and tim aren’t used to being out at work, and none of them are exactly friends, they’re the only people who ever come in the archives, so the archives very quickly becomes the Safe Trans Zone

they all vent a lot about cis people. sasha will walk in and the first words out her mouth will be “the next person to ask me if i’d had the surgery is getting their own surgery when i cut their tongues out”, and tim will make a commiserating noise and offer her the pack of donuts martin brought in

so when, on one of the rare afternoons when jon leaves his office to lean against tim’s desk and brainstorm organisational system ideas, martin walks back from the break room upstairs with a scowl and says, bitterly, as he sits back down, “oh so when cis guys wear nail polish it’s inspiring and breaking down gender roles but when i wear nail polish, jenny from HR gets to side eye me and ask if that means i changed my mind, because surely i’m the one who’ll do that and not all the men who didn’t have to do hours of therapy to establish they are definitely, one hundred percent for sure a guy!”

tim and sasha both make the standard commiseration noises, and sasha says something about the supervisor at her last job trying to say it wasn’t appropriate for her to wear trousers, and jon stops listening and runs away moves back to his office

he hadn’t noticed martin is wearing nail polish, is the thing. or, he had noticed it, but he hadn’t thought about it, and now he’s thinking about it. he’s thinking about it a lot

martin had– martin is a guy. martin is definitely a guy, if something of a feminine-leaning gay guy, the kind of feminine-leaning no one ever questions in cis guys, and it hadn’t occurred to jon to question martin, either, even though he’s trans, and. and.

he’s still circling round a revelation he can’t quite make himself have an hour or so later, when martin sticks his head round the door

“you, uh. you alright?” martin asks, incredibly tentatively. it says a lot, jon thinks, about how nice martin is, that he’s asking even though there’s a 90% chance jon will tell him to fuck off “you kind of disappeared abruptly, earlier. i didn’t upset you, did i?”

jon stares at him for a long moment, then says, “can i see your nail polish?”

“oh!” martin’s cheeks flush, just slightly, as he steps inside the office and lets the door shut behind him “uh, yeah, of course. it’s a little chipped, now, but, yeah”

martin’s nail polish is a light, pastel blue. it’s neat, and even, though his nails aren’t that long, and jon thinks he remembers martin saying something about mostly painting his nails to try and get himself to stop biting them. jon’s never really gone for nail polish, but it’s. nice.

“it’s, uh. it’s a good colour, on you,” he says awkwardly. martin flushes even more

“oh, um, thanks? did– are you alright?”

if jon was a different kind of person, this is where he’d open up to martin, and this would be the beginning of them becoming actual friends

jon is jon, though, so he just shoves all his emotions back in the box they escaped from, nods, and says “i didn’t sleep that well, is all. not really up to socialising”

(an aside about s1 jonmartin dynamic: jon is very good at shittalking martin when martin isn’t around, but in the face of martin’s genuine care and concern, he defaults back to a far more friendlier tone than he’s aiming for. he knows, on a level, that he and martin could be good friends if he ever got his shit together, but that is something else he’s currently repressing. he doesn’t need friends! he isn’t desperate for social contact at all! what’s loneliness!)

martin says “ah, okay, i’ll just– i’ll leave you alone, then”, and then jon makes himself focus on work, and then when he gets home he opens the group chat he’s still, thankfully, in with the trans people who got him through his first gender crisis and sends ‘help i don’t know if i’m a guy after all’

three people immediately send back a link to nonbinary.org

and that’s the rest of jon’s evening

he reads through every article. he reads several articles multiple times. he opens several new tabs, and gets a notepad to make a list of books, and eventually remembers to reply in the group chat

a week later, he bites the bullet and writes an email to georgie

nothing long, just, they still tell each other about big life events

and then, another couple weeks after that, when martin brings him tea, he says, “ah, martin, could i– do you have a moment?”

“of course,” martin says, and lets the door swing closed again, “what do you need?”

“i, ah. this isn’t very professional, so, you don’t– you are perfectly welcome to say no, of course, but i. um. would you– come clothes shopping with me?”

(ideally, jon would have asked georgie, but as much as he loves her (still), they haven’t talked properly in years, and she is cis. the best cis person he knows, but still a cis person. and he’d just, rather have a trans person, for emotional support, and no one in the group chat lives particularly nearby anymore) (or, well, some of them are, but when he asked they all told him to get over himself and ask one of his ‘lovely’ coworkers)

(why does he ask martin and not sasha?) (well, dear reader, he is nursing the beginnings of a crush) (not that he knows it. but that’s absolutely what’s happening here. martin is sweet and lovely and jon definitely finds him annoying and overbearing. yes. nothing else. no other emotions.) (his chest feels all weird when martin smiles because he doesn’t like him. that always happens around people he dislikes.)

“oh!” martin says, surprised. “uh, yes, of course, is– is there an event or something…?”

jon takes a moment to stare at the wall above martin’s head before he makes himself say, “i. am non-binary, and i need– different clothes.”

“oh, god, have we been–”

“no, no, this is a, a very recent development. he is still fine,” jon says, quickly, then pauses, then adds, more haltingly, “i think. i might, if – they, as well, maybe? just, to see”

“of course. d’you want me to tell tim and sasha?”

martin, jon thinks, is maybe not all that bad “yes, please”

“cool,” martin smiles, “i’m free this weekend? for shopping?”

“this saturday would be good, yes”

and then jon and martin go shopping! it’s probably not that successful of a shopping trip, because it takes jon like four shops before they admit what exactly it is they’re looking for, but they go to several charity shops and have fun trying to one-up each other with the most ridiculous/inexplicable item of clothing, and at the end of the day jon has three skirts (a knee-length black a-line skirt, a full-length black skirt, and a full-length black skirt patterned with red flowers), two necklaces, and a skater dress they probably can’t get away with wearing to work, but they really liked the way the skirt moved when they spun

other things that happen include lunch at a cafe where the staff definitely think they’re on a date and only martin notices and also martin is dying, both of them only managing to walk past a secondhand bookshop twice before they cave and go inside, and then emerge half an hour later both holding three books (two poetry anthologies and a sci fi novel; a psychology book and two history books), and martin somehow talking jon into trying on skinny jeans and then, again, leaving this mortal coil

jon doesn’t buy the skinny jeans, which is for the best really

the first time jon wears one of the skirts to work, sasha does a victory lap around the archives because “hell yes skirts are so much more comfortable, and now you swish! tim you should get a skirt. skirts for archives uniform”

and jon is still a prickly antisocial bastard but now he’s an outly nonbinary prickly antisocial bastard, and sometimes they walk into the archives at 2PM smelling of tobacco and holding a bottle of vodka, and then the archives staff all do shots and dramatic readings of the most ridiculous fake statements, because sometimes that’s how you cope with cis people, and that’s! valid!

#the magnus archives #jonathan sims #georgie barker #martin blackwood #jongeorgie #yelling at clouds #fic tag #draw jon sims in skirts. thank you.

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dr-gloom · 5 years

Text

FandersPrideMeetup Week 2: Representation. You Are Not Alone

Week 2 of @fander-pride-meetup: Representation- Draw/Write/Edit/Express yourself with the Sides/TSCharacters to represent your LGBTQ+ experiences!

A/N: So this is basically just the story of my first Pride (which I went to this year) told through the sides with a few small tweaks. I chose Roman cause I made a post about how important it is to some of us to see Aro!Roman content and a lot of people have agreed with me so here we are

Fandom: Sanders’ Sides

Pairing: none

Words: 1,335

Summary: Roman’s both excited and nervous for his first Pride. With all the discourse online, and so many people telling him he doesn’t belong at Pride because he’s aroace, he can’t help but let his imagination run away with him. What if a TERF comes up to him and starts something? What if a fight breaks out? What if he’s kicked out of Pride because he isn’t “oppressed enough”?

Tags/Warnings: aroace Roman, trans Roman, genderfluid Roman, Pride, anxieties, genderfluid Remy, trans Patton, Patton is pre-T and Roman and Remy are on T, mentions of top surgey/post-op

Read it on AO3

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Roman groans, the hot June sun beating down on them and making them regret dressing for the aesthetic. This was their first-ever Pride event, and they’d wanted to look badass for the parade they were marching in. They were wearing their tye-dye trans shirt they’d made a year ago, their aro flag over their shoulders and dark wash skinny jeans that were tucked into their new military-grade combat boots. They’d jokingly called them their “TERF-kicking boots”, getting plenty of supportive high fives from the other Kaiser volunteers they were marching with.

They fanned themselves with the paper fan someone had handed them while they all waited to march, saying for probably the tenth time that morning, “It’s too damn hot.” They turned to their friend Remy, who was fanning themselves as well, though they were dressed in more weather-appropriate in short shorts and rainbow socks. “I wish I remembered my water.” Remy pats them on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry babe, I’ve got water if you need any.”

“I brought some frozen water bottles! You want one?”

Roman turns around to look at the shorter man behind them. Patton, they think his name is? “Oh uh, sure! Thank you Patton.” Patton smiles and nods, handing Roman a frozen water bottle that they immediately press against their neck. They groan at the cool mercy on their skin, making Remy and Patton laugh.

___________________________

“Woooooooooo~!” Patton cries, along with the rest of their group and the audience they pass by. Roman and Remy share a look, laughing.

“Wee-snaaaaaw~!” Roman cries, laughing at how pitchy their voice sounds. Not even five minutes in, Roman and Remy realized that they could no longer “woo” loudly since the T was changing their voice. Maybe in a year or two when it stopped, but for now?

“Wee-snaaawww~!” Remy crows, immediately cackling at the confused looks they received.

Roman unties the aro flag from around their shoulders, the fabric doing nothing to cool them off. Instead they hold it out in front of themselves, trying not to pay too much attention to the audience. The same thoughts that had been plaguing their mind for days come to the front of their brain. What if someone sees them carrying this flag and harasses them? What if they get pushed? Their chest is still healing, they can’t afford to get in a fight.

“Woooooo~!” Patton cries loudly right behind them, silencing their thoughts. Roman laughs shakily and looks around. They’ll be fine.

They aren’t alone anymore.

“I love your flag!!!”

Roman beams.

_____________________________

When they reach the end of the line and everyone starts dispersing, Roman takes Remy’s hand to make sure they aren’t separated in the crowd. The two of them, along with Patton and his mom, find the nearest shade and settle down for a moment. Roman lays out their flag in the grass and bodily collapses on top of it, laying on their stomach. It’s only then that they remember that they’re in fact healing from top surgery, and ow that hurts, why did they do that?

Roman sits up with a pained hiss, a hand over their left pec where it feels like they just got punched. Yeah, they fucked up. In their defense, they were super tired, hot, and possibly dehydrated.

“You okay, babe?” Remy frowns at them, hunching over a little to look Roman in the eyes. Roman does their best to give Remy a reassuring smile. “I forgot I’m not supposed to lay on my stomach. I feel like I just got punched in the tit.” Remy gives a sympathetic hiss, their face scrunched up in pain. “You good though?”

“I don’t know, it hurts like a bitch.”

Paton frown from beside them. “Maybe you should check it?”

Roman looks around. Lift their shirt, in public, and take their binder off? Their heart beats a little faster, and they have to remind themselves that it’s fine. This is Pride, they don’t have boobs anymore, and this is a health concern. Roman nods, lifting their shirt and pulling the velcro aside to take off their binder.

Everything looks the same; almost-flat chest, tape covered stitches… Roman prods at their sensitive flesh. It seems kind of tough, but that’s probably just swelling, right? They pointedly ignore a passing girl going, “Oh, gross” and put their binder back on. After fixing their shirt, they smile at Remy and Patton. “It’s fine. Why don’t we head to the festival?”

__________________________

“They’re blocking this entrance, too?” Roman grouses, starting to get really annoyed. And yeah, they get why people are protesting. The city had taken away their ban on uniformed cops at Pride and tons of people were pissed, but… “They do realize the only people they’re hurting by blocking all the entrances is their fellow LGBT, right? Like, we had no say in this shit, hell, I don’t want uniformed officers here either, but I still want to have fun.”

Remy nods at their side with a frown. “This is getting kinda redic. We’ve been walking around for twenty minutes now looking for an opening.”

Roman holds their hand out and Remy takes it without a second thought, letting Roman lead them through the crowd. The two keep walking, passing by a cop who was talking with some other people looking for an entrance. As soon as they round the corner, they see a large black woman dragging a knife back and forth over the zipties keeping the fence up around the festival. Roman slows to a stop, Remy at their side watching curiously. The ziptie snaps and the woman pulls at the fence, but it doesn’t move much. By this point, they’re starting to draw a bit of a crowd. Roman speaks up. “See that thing on the ground? You gotta pull the fence up- there you go.” They grin as she lifts the fence, freeing it from the stand and pushing it open. Roman rushes forward with Remy and the rest of the crowd, everyone spilling through the gap like water on a sinking ship.

Roman is practically giggling with glee, their steps almost like little hops with the sudden surge of excitement in their veins. They look back at Remy, who’s got a matching grin on their face. As they pass the metal storage crates and get closer to the festival they catch up to the woman, calling out a “Thank you!” and running off.

___________________________

Roman walks away from the stall pouting, dragging their feet.

“Not here either?” Remy asks, but pity and amusement in their eyes.

“No! You’d think one booth would have more flags than just- just the basic L-G-B-T! That’s so basic! What the hell!”

Remy pats their shoulder sympathetically. “Babe, we’ve been walking around for like… An hour. You’re hungry, you’re out of water, and your feet hurt, yeah?” Roman nods. “Then let’s get something to drink at least and then maybe we’ll go.” Roman sighs and nods again.

“Yeah, okay, let’s go.”

They’d gotten their drinks and walked around once more to make sure they saw everything, stopping at at least half the booths to spin their free-stuff wheels. Roman saw a girl walking around with an ace flag draped over her shoulders like a cape and their face lit up.

“I love your flag!!!”

_____________________________

“So how did it go?” Roman’s mother’s voice flows from the speakers of their car. Roman grins. “It was pretty good. The parade was really fun, and I got some free stuff. Met some really cool people. There was a guy there dressed as gay Satan! It was so awesome, he was like, rainbow everything. I got some good pictures.”

Roman’s mother laughs. “I’m glad you had fun. I’ll see you at home?”

“Yeah mom, see you at home.” Roman smiles as they hang up, reflecting on their day. They had no idea what they’d been so worried about. No one had bothered them, or questioned why they were there. In fact, they weren’t the only aroace there!

They weren’t alone anymore.

#fanderspridemeetup2019 #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #aro roman #trans roman #genderfluid roman #genderfluid remy #trans patton #Pride #ace roman #aroace roman #roman sanders #patton sanders #remy sanders

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adapted-batteries · 5 years

Text

Out from the Facades

Fandom: The Librarians

Rating: General, sfw, some swearing

Relationship: Jazekiel

Word Count: 2236

Going off a previous post where I headcanoned Stone as a trans guy, this is a fic revolving around that, and the concept of found family for June 4th's prompt: Found Family.

Also posted on my Ao3.

-----

Jacob came home, hair cut short, with a button down shirt from the thrift store, trying to ignore the uncomfortableness of the too small sports bra he was using to bind. His father was usually home later, so he figured he’d have some time to think up what he was going to say, and where he could go if he ended up getting kicked out.

Unfortunately, Isaac Stone was standing at the kitchen counter, looking at some bill that had come in the mail that day. His father looked up, squinting at the open door from the bright Oklahoma afternoon. When Jacob unfroze and shut the door, Isaac sucked in a breath.

“So, you’re a boy now,” Isaac said, inspecting Jacob like he was a prize heifer at the county fair. While his feet could move, Jacob’s throat did not want to cooperate, so Isaac continued. “Since you couldn’t even be a decent girl, you better be a better man, you understand?”

Jacob nodded, mentally finishing the thought that came next: because I can’t have a queer for a kid.

So that’s what Jacob did. So long as he acted like a good ol’ boy, everyone went along with it. He was surprised how quickly people just decided that yeah, Rebecca Stone was actually Jacob Stone, star of the high school football team, more than capable of drinking with the actual linebackers, and making the same comments, though thankfully he never felt compelled to act on them like others did.

But the real shocker was how easily Isaac Stone swept the notion of Rebecca, the rough tomboy, under the rug like he had with his late wife's heritage. Surprising support wrapped in the ultimate thought that if things weren't right by themselves, he'd force it into a more acceptable image and move on. He’d drive Stone to Oklahoma City for hormone replacement therapy until he could drive himself, his father hid of all the pictures past baby stage that indicated a girl that wasn’t on board with being one, and somehow never misgendered him.

Of course, his father didn’t have to worry about misgendering if he wasn’t home, or was passed out drunk on the couch if he was.

By the time Jacob turned 18, no one made any mistakes. He’d been blessed by the transgender gods, spending most of his formative years on testosterone, and soon got top surgery in the city (thankfully paid for before his father completely ran the company into the dirt). To complete the perfect picture, he got himself a nice, manly job oil rigging. It was easy to forget he’d ever been Rebecca first.

But jacob couldn’t ignore how much of a fuckup he still was. No one knew that he’d went to college instead of “a stint up on the Keystone pipeline,” that he’d published dozens of scholarly essays on art and literature of all sorts while “apprenticing to be a surveyor,” that he still liked men even though he was a convincing fake womanizer. Despite briefly living more like who he really was, he was terrified of what would happen if the people back home found out. So, what better way to prevent that than to come back to Oklahoma and work long hours on a dead-end pipeline job, biding his time until Isaac decided he’d done enough to murder his company and let Jacob actually take over.

And then, when he was at the bar with some of his buddies, after dutifully hitting on the hot foreign chick with a Latin tattoo, ninjas showed up, and a NATO counter terrorism officer saved his ass.

The Library made it really hard to be Jacob Stone, manly oil rigger from Oklahoma, because he wasn’t any use to the Library for just that. No, Jacob Stone, brilliant scholar and expert in all things liberal arts, that was exactly who the Library needed to repeatedly save the world. And Jacob realized that, hey, it was pretty nice to actually be the real Jacob Stone, the one under all those facades.

The problem was old habits, ones that were decades in the making, were hard to break. It took him a few months to quit instinctively playing stupid before realizing, no, he didn’t have to do that. Only recently did he actually tell his colleagues what he was always busy working on in their off time, still publishing under Dr. Oliver Thompson, though the thought of abandoning the pseudonyms gave him the same fear that kept him hidden in Oklahoma.

At least the artificial interest in women was becoming not so artificial, but then there was Ezekiel Jones, doing his damn best to remind Jacob how not straight he was. And he still wasn’t totally truthful with the team; no one knew he was trans. Though he knew he didn’t owe them that bit of personal history, it felt like one more mask still hanging on his face.

And then the Library sent them to one of his father’s new sites in Wagner, and his past that he tried to shed came rearing its head all at once. Fortunately his father had hired local contractors who didn’t know Jacob, but he couldn’t do much about Isaac himself, or the fact they were dealing with some Choctaw mythology causing a ruckus, with protestors who seemingly could see through his white-passing visage and into his native blood.

It was as if the universe decided that he needed to actually confront the cultural past he’d carefully locked away years ago with his mother’s death, and the past he’d managed to lock away recently with becoming a Librarian. And maybe he actually would.

Isaac, of course, was off being useless in a bar, so naturally he got to introduce his colleagues to his father in his worst state.

“The hell you doin’ here?” Isaac was looking at him, just like he had that afternoon 25 years ago.

It took all of his willpower to not just turn around and leave. “...hey Pop.”

They managed to convince Isaac that he was just a surveyor assistant to Ezekiel, though part of him was on guard in case Cassandra decided to throw down with his father’s disgusting misogynistic behavior (he was convinced she gave Isaac a headache with all the jargon she threw around, so she got some revenge). It was easy knowing what to say to keep Isaac from suspecting anything, to get him to cooperate (especially considering he was oiled with alcohol), but after effectively being “out” intellectually for a year, it hurt to shove himself back into the good ol’ boy role, even if part of him was screaming it was the safe thing to do.

Being locked in the truth chamber was a thrilling experience, in that his anxiety about kept them from escaping. He thought he was going to have to come out right there to Ezekiel and Cassandra, but thankfully the door was happy enough with him talking about his father.

In the end, even after getting a practice run with Hokolonote, he realized it didn’t matter if Isaac had no clue who he really was. Isaac would never care, because Jacob still ended up being the family fuck up, just the “turnin’ your back on your family” one. He left Oklahoma with a different hurt, the low ache of realizing he never actually had genuine family to begin with.

And then he spent more time with the Librarians, and that ache began to fade. These people he worked with, saved, got saved by, knew him as he was, and loved him for it. And realized he felt the exact same way about them. He near spooked himself with how much he cared if Eve had died by Dulac’s sword, if Ezekiel got killed by anubis’s werewolves, if Cassandra didn’t make it through the surgery, if Flynn hadn’t been strong enough to take in evil while they scrambled for a solution to Apep, if Jenkins somehow died (thank god he was immortal). Family was only half of having people care about you; you had to care about them too.

He had family.

But he didn’t want any secrets with the family, and he still had one left tugging on his heart. And who better to tell than the other professional faker on the team.

He cornered Ezekiel in the main room while the others went about doing whatever they were doing. “Hey, Ezekiel, can we talk?”

Ezekiel looked at him, a mix of confusion and concern, since Jacob rarely pulled the first name card for him. “Sure, mate. Is something wrong?”

“No...uh, just, let’s go somewhere more private,” Jacob said, about-facing and walking deeper into the Library. Ezekiel followed him, and he knew the thief was suddenly hyper aware of everything because Jacob caught him off-guard.

The wandered for a bit, eventually far enough from the others and any main walkways where someone might come near. “Okay, what’s this about?” Ezekiel asked, folding his arms.

Jacob took a death breath. “I’ve not been completely truthful about my past-”

Ezekiel cut him off. “No one ever is, least of all me, so what of it?”

“No, just-” Jacob rubbed his face in frustration “-I know you and Cassandra found out I’d lied to my father about myself for decades, but that’s not the only thing about me you don’t know.”

“Okay?” Ezekiel just looked at him even more confused. “Are you like, coming out or something? Because that isn’t a big deal, I mean it is, but like, Cassandra has a girlfriend, mate, and you know I’m not the straightest bloke around.”

“You’re not?” Jacob shook his head, ignoring that bit of apparently obvious information for now. “I, uh, well, yeah, Jones, I’m coming out. I’m trans.”

There was an awkward silence as Ezekiel tried to figure out what Jacob meant by that. “Congrats?” He opened and closed his mouth a few times like he was trying out sentences in his head and deeming them not appropriate, and then a flood of words came out. “Um, so, do you have like prefered pronouns you want me to use? Are you thinking about a new name? Cuz that’s cool too. Are you still into women, or do you not want me to set you up anymore-”

Jacob felt like he’d been doing Atlas’s job for him, and Atlas had finally relieved him. “Ezekiel,” Jacob started to get the thief to quiet, “I’m a trans man.”

“Ooh, okay.” Ezekiel, despite his ability to don a quality poker face, had no control over the blush on his face right then.

Deciding he had nothing left to lose, Jacob decided to answer Ezekiel’s last question. “And you can stop with setting me up with women too...because I’m not straight either.” He let out a bark of a laugh at how surreal he felt, which made Ezekiel startle. Apparently Ezekiel realized how big this was for Jacob, because he was looking at him in amazement now. “I can’t believe I’ve not told anyone else that in two and a half decades.”

“You...it’s been that long?” Ezekiel blinked in disbelief. “How did you hide that?”

Jacob shrugged. “You’d be surprised how easily people will ignore things if you fit in somehow. And I wasn’t ever totally hidden...you met Slaten. He knew me, well, more than anyone else until the Library.” He knew what was coming next after he said that.

“Were you...together?”

A smile crept onto Jacob’s face, reminiscent. “It’s the worst when you fall for your straight best friend.”

“It really is,” Ezekiel replied, and then his expression changed to something more serious, his posture annoyingly more seductive with just a slight tilt of his head and angle of his hips. “Now I pride myself in reading people, a necessary skill for effective grifting, and, well, when I first met you, you gave off some repressed gay vibes for sure. Was there something more when you shoved me against that bookcase when ninjas were invading the Library for the crown?”

Jacob thought back to that moment. “Not exactly, I mean, I'm a fighter so my first thought was to immobilize you.” Ezekiel raised an eyebrow, but Jacob had more to say. He stepped closer to Ezekiel as he said, “then my second thought was you looked like you were enjoying it.” Now he was almost toe to toe with Ezekiel, and the thief had certainly picked up on where he was going. “And my third thought was that I enjoyed looking at you like that.”

Conveniently, they were near a bookcase, not the one from the memory, but close enough. With all other thoughts out the window, Jacob grabbed Ezekiel by the shirt and pushed him against the bookcase. Ezekiel let out a little gasp when his back hit the wood, making Jacob's heart flip in his chest. What he said was true; Jacob was enjoying pinning Ezekiel to the bookcase, and based on Ezekiel's turned on expression, he was too.

Ezekiel interrupted his observations. “Are you just going to look at me?”

“Hmm, I might with that attitude,” Jacob purred. Ezekiel scoffed, but he glanced down at Jacob's mouth, and then Jacob couldn't resist any longer. He relaxed his elbows and brought his face near inches away from Ezekiel's, but something making him hesitate.

Ezekiel read him like an open book. “You aren't second guessing, are you? There's nothing wrong with who you are, though your wardrobe could still use help-”

“Oh, shut it,” Jacob growled, but he didn't back away.

“Make me, cowboy,” Ezekiel retorted. That was enough to get Jacob to close the remaining distance and press his lips onto Ezekiel's.

It wouldn't be an exaggeration for him to say he felt fireworks when Ezekiel kissed back.

This was his family, this building, these people. Blood wasn't everything, despite what the folks back home thought. It only took him 40 years to find it, but he was very glad he did.

-----

Post Notes: So, this is some idyllic world where trans teens got HRT in the 80's, which as far as Google would tell me, wasn't a thing until more recently. Also, since I used “And What Lies Beneath the Stones” for reference on Jacob and Isaac interacting, I also noticed how the one protestor reacted when he looked at Stone, and my brain decided that was him recognizing Choctaw or another tribe in Stone because that's also a fun headcanon in my head from when people mentioned it way back.

I picture this happening after season four, so technically the LiTs don't remember the whole Jenkins dying bit (I feel like Flynn and Eve wouldn't say for time line stability, since Flynn does watch out for that already from “And the Final Curtain”).

#a. l. writes #the librarians fic #thelibrarianspromptmonth #the librarians prompt month #found family #jazekiel #jacob stone #ezekiel jones #trans character

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cupidmarwani-archive · 6 years

Text

Reconciliation (Barisi)

Summary: Sonny shouldn’t feel guilty about his secret.

WC: 1931

// This is part of a storyline I want to develop about trans Sonny so let me know if y’all care //

One of the things that Sonny prides himself on is being open about his life. He’s been out as bisexual for however many years now. He’s a devout catholic and doesn’t bother to hide it. His heritage is important to him, and he loves to cook, and he always talks things out. When it comes to his loved ones, he’s an open book. There’s just one thing that he can’t bring himself to talk about. Now, logically, he knows that it’s not like he’s keeping a secret. It’s no one’s business but his own. He doesn’t owe his lieutenant or his partner or even his boyfriend information so personal, but that doesn’t stop him from feeling guilty anyways.

Especially when things get heated with Rafael, like they did last night before bed. Obviously, Rafael would never make him do anything he doesn’t want to. They kiss, they get a little more into it with hands that roam under Sonny’s shirts on the smooth skin of his back or skim over his butt through the fabric of his pants, but if Sonny says stop, wait, or slow down, Rafael listens. He doesn’t have to make an excuse, but it’s hard not to want to come up with something. For as much as Sonny tells victims that they can say no for any reason, or that they have a right to privacy, it’s difficult to apply those same rhetorics to himself.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Rafael asks over a breakfast of single cup coffees from the keurig and fluffy pancakes, courtesy of Sonny and his early bird demeanor.

Sonny wants to explain everything he’s thinking about, but instead he shakes his head and plasters on a smile. “Nothing you’d be interested in, Rafael. You know me, it’s la la land.”

He doesn’t have to look up at Rafael to know that he doesn’t believe him, but before he can be questioned further, he stands up and scoops up the dishes from his half-eaten breakfast. Even if he doesn’t need to be in for a couple hours, and he had intended to stay with Rafael and then accompany him on his way in to work, Sonny makes up a lame excuse and hurries out the front door.

It would make sense to call an uber or take the subway, given how far the trek to the cathedral is, but Sonny decides to walk. He’s always found the near deserted streets of early morning New York City to hold a certain magic to them. All around him are the signs of lives, millions of lives that seem shallow at first glance but he sometimes remembers are just as complex and nuanced as his own. The wind has its own life too, nipping at Sonny’s nose, cheeks, and lips. Cold this sharp focuses his thoughts.

Like he does about most of his problems, Sonny prays when he makes his way into the empty pews. An old woman sits beside a pastor in one of the rows, the two of them with their heads bowed in prayer. Sonny doesn’t disturb them, even goes so far as to make his footsteps slow and soft so that he doesn’t make a disruptive sound. He knows that he likes quiet when he prays.

Sonny sits down and reaches into his coat for his rosaries. They’ve been kept warm by his body heat, despite the freezing temperatures outside. He wraps the beads around his hands and shuts his eyes to pray. First and foremost, he clears his mind as best he can, focusing on the musty smell of the old hymnals and the slight discomfort of the wooden benches with thin cushions slung on top almost carelessly. Then he starts thinking, stringing together words and thoughts as best as he can. Some people say that you should be formal when you talk to God, but Sonny isn’t so certain. He thinks that if he’s going to pray, he should be able to speak the way he would to an old friend, one who knows everything there is to know about him anyways.

He asks for a lot of things. For the guidance to explain to Rafael, eventually, all the things that he’s struggling to say. For the strength to allow himself, all of himself, to be known and loved. For the wisdom to find the words. For anything and everything he needs to lift the weight of something he’s been carrying on his shoulders for far too long.

Is it better or worse that no one suspects? Sonny first cut his hair short when he was thirteen. His parents were mad, but once he explained, they were nothing if not supportive. He was on T by his sixteenth birthday. His graduation present had been top surgery and a legal name change. Nowadays, you look at him, his tailored suits and his gruff voice, and no one ever thinks about the possibility that he might not have been born right.

That comes out wrong, but he can’t think of another way to explain it. How can he possibly explain to anyone what dysphoria feels like? Not fitting in is a feeling that Sonny’s used to. He’s never been well liked among his peers. But to feel like he doesn’t belong, not even in his own body, is impossible to describe. It’s almost like being disconnected from his body. What his brain wants him to be, what it thinks it is, doesn’t match up. A cop’s salary doesn’t lend much to saving up for what insurance deems a cosmetic surgery, and what little extra that he had went to law school.

Before he knows it, Sonny realizes that he’s supposed to be at work in less than half an hour. If he hurries, he can still make it to the precinct on time. He’s still careful to be quiet as he rushes out, so as not to disturb the other people, but he’s much more rushed than he was coming in. More people are on the sidewalk now, and no one spares him a second glance. Suit-clad, harried looking business men brush past on the phone, and spiked stilettos click clack unsteady patterns on the cement. Between going into the church and leaving, New York has come to life.

The precinct is no different when Sonny arrives. A perp is being hauled through the bullpen to interrogation by Fin, while Rollins and the Lieu are bent over a computer screen. Sonny may only be a couple minutes late, but the day has already picked up.

“Nice of you to join us, Carisi,” Rollins says.

“Traffic, sorry. What’re we lookin’ at?”

And just like that, the morning’s inner turmoil melts away with the much more pressing concerns of the latest serial to hit the precinct. No matter how many suspects they’ve tried, no one fits the bill. Everyone’s frustrated, and when Rafael comes by to be briefed, Sonny suddenly finds a million things to do that prevent him from being at the meeting. No doubt that when Rafael pulls Olivia into her office for ‘a word,’ it’s to ask if she’s noticed that Sonny’s having a bad day. Normally, he’s touched at how much Rafael cares, but now it has him on edge. This thing that shouldn’t be that big a deal, that shouldn’t be a secret, is crushing him very slowly today and he hates it. If he knew how to make it go away, he would.

His suspicions are confirmed when he’s called into Olivia’s office after Rafael leaves- not without saying goodbye of course- to have a personal conversation She asks him if he’s alright (“Yes, lieu.”), if something’s on his mind (“Not except for the case.”), if things are okay between him and Barba (“Never better.”) and all sorts of other probing questions that aren’t specific, but are definitely designed to find out why Rafael’s worried. When she dismisses him, they both know that it’s not the end of the matter. One morning where Sonny gets a little stuck in his head, and now all of his carefully crafted excuses are falling apart. He’s been through hell over this- including avoiding the hospital that one time he was beat with a metal bat while undercover and definitely needed medical attention.

By the time Sonny’s allowed to go home for the day, he’s exhausted, on edge, and wants nothing more than to curl up in bed with Rafael and be held and comforted. But in order to get that, Rafael’s going to ask him again what’s on his mind, and the lying is getting exhausting. Dinner is waiting in the fridge for him at home- Rafael had ordered himself takeout from the Italian place on the corner when Sonny had to stay late, and got him something that can be easily reheated in the microwave. After long days, that’s often all of the cooking that Sonny’s capable.

He should have known it was a trap. Rafael’s smart like that. While he’s warming his dinner, Rafael corners him in the kitchen and fixes him with a pointed look. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“What makes you think something’s wrong?” Sonny snaps.

“Well, considering Liv said you’ve been lost in thought all day, and you were upset this morning and short with me right now, I’m gonna guess that you’re not telling me something,” Rafael says.

The microwave beeps at the same time as Sonny’s nose stings with tears. He hates that feeling, that warning that he’s about to cry. It makes him feel like he’s blowing things out of proportion. While he stirs his pasta, he keeps his focus firmly on the little plastic dish and the fragrant steam wafting off of it. He sniffles, and it’s then that Rafael takes Sonny’s left hand and laces their fingers together. It’s his way of reminding Sonny that he’s right there, no matter what happens.

“If I tell you, you gotta hear me out.”

For just a second, Rafael squeezes his hand a little harder. “Of course.”

Sonny takes a deep breath. This is his last chance to come up with something, anything else to say, but he draws a blank. Now or never, right?

“I’m transgender.”

“Okay.”

Whatever Sonny was expecting, that wasn’t it. “Just okay?”

“Would you prefer I preach at you or ask you about your genitals?” Rafael says.

“Well no, but…”

He trails off, not sure where he’s going with his sentence. It’s great that Rafael’s not upset or anything like that, but he honestly doesn’t know how to react. Even if his family came around, they initially weren’t the most understanding or accepting. He expected the fear to melt away, but it doesn’t. Not yet, but it’s fading.

“But nothing. I love you for your personality, Sonny, not whether you identify as a boy or a girl, or what you were born as. And I’m really proud of you for trusting me to tell me.” Rafael pauses, as though trying to piece together his next thought. “Just to clarify- you’re my boyfriend or my girlfriend?”

The wording is careful, and Sonny appreciates that Rafael is trying to understand, to make things clear. “Your boyfriend.”

And now he sees the realization in Rafael’s eyes about all the times that Sonny’s gotten anxious in intimate moments. There’s no anger or disgust like he was worried about, just the same love and fondness that he’s come to expect Getting that weight off of his chest makes Sonny feel worlds better than he did just that morning.

#sonny carisi #barisi #mine #fic #trans!sonny

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magdaclaire · 6 years

Note

i just read ur newest fic, pleasseeee give us some trans!adam hcs i am begging u. there’s so little trans content and i am a thirsty little trans gremlin that projects onto everything. (you dont have to make them nsfw but honestly it’d be cool, that’s even rarer to see like. non fetishy trans stuff in general)

These are strictly sfw, mostly because I want to produce a lot of sfw trans content as a young acespec trans person, so here we go!

If you do find yourself craving nsfw trans headcanons, I would be willing to write some, if you want. Let me know!

These are in the universe of the fic! If you want, like, grown up Trans!Adam, hmu!

He doesn’t talk about it. He’s Adam. He’s always been Adam. His mom helped him pick out his new name when he was five and he’s been Adam ever since. He has other trans friends online who have changed names a couple of time, and they’re just as valid as anyone, but he never changed. Adam is his name. He entered kindergarten as Adam James Bianchi, and he’ll be that for the rest of his life, if no one wants to change the last bit of it.

Other kids, when he’s young, know that he’s Adam and not that it’s stranger than the other boys in the class being their own names. They call him Adam and send him to sit with the boys during gym class and make no mistakes about who he is. A teacher only slips and calls him she once, and that’s not because Adam throws a fit or tells his mom or anything. It’s because he looks up at her, six and calm as a day, and he says, “He/him, thank you.” and nothing else.

He was put on low blockers but not T yet when he was thirteen, just as they moved and he switched schools. He met Andrew and Steven soon after he started them, when he still need to wear a binder. He stayed with them because they never asked, never looked at him like he was less for it, never asked about the pads and liners in his bag.

He never really wants the bottom surgery. He’ll get the top surgery one day, even as he was put on blockers before his chest got very big, even as he needs it less than most trans boys his age. He doesn’t buy packers or search around for some way to feel like a man in that way, because it’s not something he needs.

Instead, he looks up how long on T he needs to be to start growing facial hair, how long it’ll take for his hair to grow courser and curl. He starts T at fourteen and watches it every day, until he’s months in and his beard comes in thicker than Andrew’s little bit of facial hair, and he’s elated, validated, not wanting.

He dates a couple of boys and girls and nonbinary people in freshman and sophomore year, trying to find out what he likes without anyone getting hurt. Boys say things that sting but girls not saying things is worse and the nonbinary people Adam dates think he’s like them, but he’s not, he’s a man and somehow that’s worse. He stops serial dating and settles into singleness halfway through sophomore year.

And then junior years hits like a freight train and a half. In junior year, he takes pride in giving Steven beard burn when they kiss, enough that he can see it in class later as they sit across from each other and pretend to pay attention to the teacher. Steven likes the beard burn too. Likes the reminder.

Steven cups his face like he’s everything he’s ever wanted him and calls him my man, my boyfriend, my guy, my mans more than once, and says it like he’s proud. It’s validating in a way Adam didn’t know he would love from a relationship with his best friend.

In second semester of junior year, Andrew likes the beard burn too. He calls Adam handsome, calls him pretty in equal turn, and where that would usually make Adam feel a little squicky, it sounds like honor from Andrew, sounds like he means it like fine china rather than like woman, and Adam doesn’t mind so much in being pretty. Andrew helps him reclaim an entire word, and he doesn’t even know.

#adam bianchi #steven lim #andrew ilnyckyj #stadamdrew #buzzfeed worth it #trans!adam #mer fact #mine #sad boys club universe #Anonymous

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dyemelikeasunset · 6 years

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hey dye!! i know you're visiting with bee right now but I wanted to ask: your coming out story on your about doesn't talk about you discovering being nonbinary or demisexual!! i'd really like to know someday!

I actually have written about being demisexual before! My original coming out post was this one, and when we were still figuring our relationship out, I did some freeform writing to my partner about demisexuality in this post

As far as being nonbinary… it was a slow realization? I know a lot of people are familiar with the split gender and sexuality models now, but for me they’ve always been closely related. I don’t know if other ace and/or nonbinary people feel the same, but my gender and sexuality greatly affect each other. I feel that, socially, our ideas of romance and sex are incredibly gendered and our ideas of gender are so sexualized, that when you’re ace-spec and trans-spec, they all get really muddled up and hard to pull apart or compartmentalize.

I’m going to put it under a read more just because it gets so long, but it might not work on mobile! There isn’t anything that would get you in trouble though, it’s all text and generally sfw

[the following has mentions of self harm and menstruation]

When I was younger, I went through stages of intense gender and sex dysphoria, not being able to sleep well for weeks after I first got my period. Menstruating was a huge trigger of self hatred and depression, because it was such a gendered marker for being “a woman,” and I didn’t understand it at the time but that nebulous concept was debilitating. That, combined with horrible sex ed and the fears of pregnancy and sexual relations, I was just so dissociated from my body for my entire teenage life. I could barely look at myself in the mirror, and periods would spike my depressive episodes. It was around this time I started to self harm.

In high school, I read about what transgender was. I know it’s considered outdated language, but back then I really connected to the whole “born into the wrong body” idea. For a good few years, I wanted to transition all the way so badly, but had no idea how to do it.

When I got my first serious crush on my best friend in high school, it was such a muddled mess of “wait does this mean I’m gay? Or do I like girls because I want to be a boy?” I had ignored any crushes I had had on boys before that because of my overpowering self-hatred of being a girl and heterotypical relationships terrified me, but this new possibility of liking girls was suddenly a weird, powerful wrench in my system. I didn’t know how to take it

Because of how new and unexpected it was, I spent a really long time researching and experimenting with sexuality. I was going in totally blind, and sadly got myself into a lot of trouble with predatory adults. It was around this time that I knew I really didn’t like the label of “lesbian” for myself, because it felt too gendered, and the adult women I knew would push it onto me.I know the term has evolved in the recent decade to include nonbinary people sometimes, but even now I struggle with the term (also because I’m probably somewhere between demisexual and bi ace, so the little attraction I do experience isn’t just towards women)

After I untangled myself from that mess, I went to college and met Bee and made some new friends online. Because my relationship with Bee was going so well, I was comfortable identifying as a gay girl for a good while. However, that group of friends would often butt into my business with gender. They’d talk over me when strangers assumed i was male and insist that i was female, and it just felt really gross and uncomfortable and wrong for me. It made me feel exposed and put on the spot, but at the time I couldn’t vocalize why.I think they felt they were defending me and my right to be in a gay relationship, but it honestly did more harm than good.

I felt really broken.

It was during those years I was trying to experiment with presenting more and more androgynously, and would often be treated as a man in public. I couldn’t come out to these friends about this, and for some reason I felt like I couldn’t tell Bee about my fluctuating gender either. To make matters worse, I never felt completely comfortable being “male” either, so I assumed my friends were right. I didn’t want to be “fully male,” so I must be female. My ideas of gender were really binary back then.

But over time, I realized how these “friends” would often take cheap shots at the way I dressed, and make my gender presentation the source of a lot of jokes. Once I realized they were wrong about me and were only adding to my self-hatred and confusion, I remembered how I used to feel in high school, how I had wanted so badly to be a boy. With that reminder added on top of my new experiences and deeper, nuanced understanding of myself, I finally sat down with Bee and explained to her that I felt neither 100% male OR female. I wanted some things, like chest surgery, and maybe hormones, but bottom surgery, changing my gender registry to male,and even name changes felt somehow a step too far. I was really worried because, understandably, being gay is a huge part of her identity. But she was really, really understanding, and encouraged me to buy my first chest binder.

It was around this time I was a working adult, and me and Bee started getting closer our friend Cait. Being around just Bee and Cait did wonders for my self esteem, and I had been reading up on updated transgender and gender-variant issues and identities. I found out about genderqueer and nonbinary labels, and even though it didn’t click immediately, they slowly crept into my subconscious and reminded me there were alternatives out there for me. With Cait also being a demigirl, we were able to explore it together and show each other things and just… learn to be more comfortable with ourselves.

Even though in my public and offline life, I often identify as a girl for the convenience of my coworkers and family who don’t understand gender very well, I still feel whole. My self-acceptance goes such a long way to keeping me happy, and the fact I’ve surrounded myself with loving, supportive people helps me tremendously. There are still some steps I want to take, like HRT and hopefully someday top surgery, but for now, I’m really happy with slowly working towards those goals. I still feel like the person I want to be even without them.

#Anonymous #nonbinary #trans

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remeny-writes · 7 years

Text

Roses are Red, Violets are Adored (Viadore/Katlaska/group fic)

Sorry for the long time between posts. crushing depression + writer’s block = me

Chapter 163

Adore’s Point of view

I took one last look of Violet’s sleeping face before I rounded the corner, I really didn’t want to go but Matt promised he would check in on them regularly and I trusted that he would. Lucy would be back before long as well.

It seemed like a long time since I had been at group because it felt like it had been weeks since I had last gone. I was there a bit early but Selene was there too, she jumped up as soon as she saw me and pulled me into a tight hug, “Bonjour mon amour, how are you? I’ve missed you so! Oh mon dieu! Your hand!”

“Hiya Selene, I KNOW! It feels like it has been forever since we had last spoken to each other instead of it just being the past few meetings. My hand is ok! Don’t worry!” I reassured her, flailing my casted arm around.

"And how is Violet doing now?” a look of concern marring her perfect face.

“They’re much better. We even came to the games room, with Lucy and her new little friend, to play some video games yesterday which was great fun.”

“Oh good!!”

“And how is Luc?” Her son Luc has the same cancer as Lucy does.

“He is good, thank you for asking!!” She smiled brightly, “They are saying we may be able to take him home next week!

"That is AMAZING news!! I’m so very happy for him and you!”

She smiled and nodded, before we could chat any longer, Alexa walked in, holding the hand of a petite raven haired woman.

“Hi!! I am assuming you are Leslie?” I asked, closing the distance between her and I.

“Yes I am! I wanna say you are Danny?�� I nodded and she pulled me into a hug. Then she got a quizzical look on her face, “has anyone ever told you that you could be the identical twin of one of my favourite drag queens Adore Delano? She was on a popular drag competition reality show if you haven’t heard of it.” Alexa was grinning behind her.

“I know her actually!”

“REALLY? I’d love to meet her sometime if she is around! If it’s not too much trouble.”

I laughed and stuck my hand out for her to shake it and she looked confused for a moment but finally shook it. “Hi I’m Adore Delano, nice to meet you!”

“Oh my gosh! REALLY??”

“Yep I really am and Violet Chachki is just down the hall.” I grinned, bemused at the shocked expression on her face.

“You gotta be shitting me!” she blurted and then covered her mouth, “Sorry, I saw they were being treated for cancer on youtube. Sorry about the swearing,” she looked around at everyone for a minute and then turned back to me. “I should know better seeing as I’m in a kid’s hospital. Hey wait…why are you guys at a children’s hospital?”

“Well it’s a bit of a long story. The Dr in New York that diagnosed them sent them to an oncologist here that deals with their rare type of cancer, but Dr Bailey only has rights to treat here so here is where we came.”

“Makes sense. I can’t believe I’m talking to you!”

I giggled, “Well believe it baby!”

Olive came in and introduced herself to Leslie. “Ok gang, why don’t we begin?”

“Wait,” I said. “What about Grayson?”

Olive’s face fell, “Grayson’s daughter has taken a turn for the worse and he said he would much rather spend that time with her. Which of course is understandable! Keep them in your thoughts and prayers.”

We all nodded slowly, all of us dreading the possibility that that could be us someday.

The meeting was subdued.At the end of it, I told Alex and Leslie I would call their son’s room if and when Vi was up to visitors as I didn’t want them to just come with me since Vi was having chemo again and I didn’t know how they would be feeling. I knew how sensitive Vi can be about their appearance sometimes.

Surprisingly, when I tiptoed into the room, Vi was sitting up chatting with Lucy, unhooked from chemo but not quite green yet. Ross bucket was lying on the bed near Vi’s crossed legs. They didn’t see me but I saw them, Lucy must have said something funny because they threw their head back in their characteristic laugh that made my stomach get butterflies like riding a rollercoaster. Their eyes flicked to me and they smiled, beckoning me forward with one finger and like a fish on a hook I followed with a goofy smile I couldn’t and wouldn’t shake.

Lucy is sitting and there is a boy sitting beside Lucy that wasn’t Frederick. He had ginger hair that was spiked up, he was wearing dark jeans, a loose diamond-patterned pale emerald short-sleeved button-up shirt and a silver bowtie. As soon as he saw me, he stood up and wiped his hands on his jeans.

“Hi! Nice to meet you! Do you prefer Danny or Adore?” He twanged.

“You forgot to tell him your name goof!” Lucy laughed, she looked radiant.

“Er…sorry! I’m Samuel, Lucy’s brother. Sorry I haven’t been here yet to meet you.” He was holding his breath, I wondered if it was because I knew he was trans. Like that even fucking mattered…well it mattered but it didn’t matter.

“Hey man.” I said, he put out his hand to shake and then switched when he saw my cast. He chuckled, the ice was broken as he sat back down beside Lucy who was beaming crazily up at her brother. It honestly made me wanna cry with how sweet it was.

Violet reached their hand out and pulled me to sit beside them

“You forgot to tell him your name goof!” Violet repeated Lucy’s earlier statement.

“Oh yeah!” I smacked my forehead, “sorry Samuel! Either is fine with me. Half the time Vi and I call each other by our drag names because we both answer to which ever! So you’re home!! Welcome back! Lucy has told us a lot about you.”

“All horrible stuff. I’ve told them nothing but horrible things.” Lucy deadpanned.

“I would expect anything less of you lil sister.” He chuckled, ruffling her hair like a big brother should.

She squirmed out of the way and smoothed down her bangs again. “Get away you!” She took a closer look at him, squinting up at him. “You doing ok? If you need to go, I understand hun. You should get some rest bro. I’m ok!”

Upon closer inspection, Samuel did look as green as his shirt.

“You ok man?” Vi asked, concern in their voice.

Samuel chuckled morosely. “I could ask you the same thing. Incoming!”

Violet groaned and grabbed up Ross, I rubbed their back and murmured the usual reassurances while Lucy and Samuel had a whispered conversation that I was probably not meant to hear.

“Sammy, you just got home, you need to rest. You KNOW that I understand.”

“Luce, it was bad enough I was away so much longer than I was supposed to be! I don’t want to leave already. I’m fine.”

“Samuel, we both know you are not fine! Do NOT even try it. You won’t heal if you don’t take care of yourself. You have to take your meds.”

“They make me tired.”

“I know, most pain meds make people sleepy. You can ask the doctor at your appointment for meds that aren’t as strong but right now you NEED them. Please?”

Vi must have heard the conversation because as soon as they surfaced from the bucket, they jabbed the nurse’s button fiercely with their thumb.

“Can I help you?” A nurse’s voice crackled from the speaker on the wall.

“Hi can I get my pain meds?”

“I’ll be right in with them Jason.”

“Thank you.” Vi looked straight at Samuel and smirked, “ok your turn.” They raised one spotty eyebrow at him. “Sorry not sorry, this room is not that big. Lucy knows what she is talking about. Listen to her. Please?”

“You too Danny?” Lucy said with her own raised ginger brow.

I put my hand up, “hey! Hey! Why you gotta bring me into this?”

“Because you are also in pain.” Violet said.

“God, aren’t we all a mess!!?” I exclaimed and we all burst out into laughter until we were holding our stomachs and Samuel was even greener.

10 minutes later we had all taken our meds, Samuel had winced when he leaned over to grab his meds from his backpack. Vi and I pretended not to notice as we were suddenly engrossed in our fingernails or the ceiling.

“You guys are so not fooling me. So I had…”

“No Samuel, you don’t have to tell us. It’s ok!”

“No, I don’t mind. I recently went to Mexico and had top surgery. I had to stay longer than intended due to complications outside of anyone’s control. It was a good facility, not one of those seedy places so it wasn’t because of that. Hopefully I can get the drains out tomorrow when I see my Dr here.” He said and then yawned.

“Hey why don’t you stretch out on the couch tonight Samuel? Vi will let me sleep with them, right hun?”

I saw a shadow of fear pass over Jason’s face, I think I could safely bet that they were worried about having a nightmare with Samuel in the room. I put my hand on their knee, and they looked at him and nodded with a queasy smile. “Yeah that would be great! Please stay Samuel, if you want to!”

“Are you sure you don’t mind? I am extremely tired.”

“Not at all! I have a spare set of pajamas if you wanna borrow them.” I offered, moving around the bed and plucking a pair of lounge pants and an oversized Tshirt from my suitcase and throwing them at Lucy since it would probably hurt him to raise his arms.

“Well the thing is, I might bleed on the shirt.” He said, looking around awkwardly.

“Meh, what’s a little blood between friends? But here, use this one and keep it.” I went to my suitcase and pulled out an extra large black Adore merch shirt, throwing that one to Lucy.”

“Really?” He exclaimed, looking like someone just gave him a million bucks.

“Yep.”

“Thank you!” He said and yawned.

“Ok you go put those on young man and I’ll make up the couch with fresh linens since I know where to find them now.”

About 20 minutes later, Lucy tucked her big bro in and a nurse came in to give Lucy her sleep and pain meds. I curled up with Violet, holding their petite body up against mine. “I really actually love you Jason. Oh and I have to go to the Doctor tomorrow at 1 about my hand. Please don’t let me forget.”

“I’ll remind you.” Jason said sleepily, “I really actually love you too. Thanks for suggesting that Samuel stay for the night. You’re the best.”

Jason sighed and was asleep within minutes. I stayed awake for a bit thinking of all the things I had to do to pull off the surprise that was in my head. The pain meds were pulling me down to sleep and I was happy that my hand wasn’t throbbing with every beat of my heart.

#roses #rarvaa

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