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cowgurrrl · 3 months

Text

Keep the Wolves Away

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author's note: Dedicated to my real life Andies. Thank you for making me feel easy to love.

Summary: The worst decision [5.2k]

Warnings: platonic threatening, discussions of bad mental health, so much flirting that (spoiler alert) might be real, possible THE shittiest ex I ever could've written, all the southern pet names, alcohol consumption, the resurgence of an old nude of readers, gaslighty behavior, smoking cigarettes (don't smoke kids), Joel talking reader out of a spiral, two (2) kisses

"So, it's a date." Andie declares once you're done explaining everything to her over FaceTime. You pause your blush application to roll your eyes at her.

"It's not a date!"

"I'm sorry, so I'm just supposed to believe you when you say you're going to be just friends with the hot, sweet single dad who sounds like he's head over heels for you?"

"He is not head over heels for me." You sound a little petulant, and Andie laughs like she did when you were in high school and trying to hide a crush from her.

"Babe, he willingly went on a high school field trip just so he could see you."

"His daughter was there. I'm sure he wanted to spend time with her."

"I'm sure he did because he's a great dad, but he also wanted to see you in your element. It's sexy watching someone do the thing they love."

"Yeah, yeah." You brush her off, and she scoffs. You toss your makeup brush back into its bag and check out your outfit in the mirror. It's nothing insane— just a plain black slip dress— but now that Joel's arrival is getting closer and closer, you're rethinking everything. "Do I look okay?"

"You look stunning!" Andie chirps. "I'm sure your not boyfriend will think the same thing."

"I'm going to get a plane ticket to Austria just so I can choke you out with my own two hands." You threaten, but she laughs so hard you can't stop smiling. Once the trans-Atlantic giggling dies down, the line goes quiet, and you take a deep breath as you pull your mascara out.

"Are you nervous to see him?" She asks gently. Andie came home for the summer dubbed The Dark Days. She stayed over when the one-bedroom apartment felt too big and got you out of the house when you couldn't stand the four walls anymore. She took whatever he left behind to his new apartment so you wouldn't have to (and gave him a piece of her mind while she was at it). She made you believe in love again. Not sticky, frustrating, unpredictable romantic love but pure, easy, all-knowing love that can only come from long-enduring relationships such as yours.

For a long time after he left, you thought you were hard to love. Too loud, too bright, too much. Until you were out at a bar with her one night, trying to find the remnants of your independence and self-esteem tucked under sweaty beers and cracked leather chairs, when someone pointed out how similar you and Andie were. "Like two sides of the same coin," the woman told you. Andie is one of the easiest people in the world to love with her quick wit, creativity, and smile. And you realized for the first time if you had even a shred of that, even if only by dint of knowing and being loved by her, then you must be easy to love too. You must be worth the mess and heartache and stained fingerprints.

So, yeah, Andie was less than pleased to hear that all that hard work could be undone by seeing him again, but she was supportive.

"I don't know," you sigh. "I'm not a kid anymore. I've had more years without him than I did with him, but it's still scary."

"I know."

"I don't even know what I'm gonna say to him."

"He'll probably be too busy with the gallery and everything. Maybe you won't even have to." She says, and you groan at the uncertainty of everything.

"God, why did I say yes?" You ask as a knock interrupts your whining. You end your call with a quick "I love you, thank you, I'll text you" before throwing your phone down. "Come in!" You yell from the bathroom as you rapidly finish doing your makeup. There's a pause on the other side before he jiggles the knob and finally comes in. "I'm just finishing up in the bathroom. Give me a minute."

"D'you always leave your door unlocked?" Joel asks. The sound of his unsure footsteps reaches your ears, and you smile at the thought of him looking around your apartment like a lost toddler.

"Only when I know someone's coming over," you say. "Sorry, it's a mess."

"Oh, this is nothin'. You should see Ellie's room." He says, his feet pacing the floor. You swipe on a cute lipstick you never wear and finally step out into the living room where Joel is waiting. He's wearing a black button-up shirt with nice pants as he stands with his back to you, looking at some of the things on your wall.

"Well, don't you look nice?" You compliment, making him turn around with a shy smile. His eyes roam over you, taking in every detail or sliver of skin he hasn't seen before. His intense gaze reminds you of how he looked at you in the bar when you were sure his eyes would melt you. He looks dumbstruck, and his Adam's apple bobs when his eyes finally settle on your face.

"Wow… you look-"

"Choose carefully." You tease to take some of the tension out of the room.

"Beautiful," he says, thwarting your efforts. "You always look beautiful."

"Thank you. Not so bad yourself."

"You like it? Ellie helped me pick it out," he anxiously fiddles with the sleeves of his shirt. "Feels weird."

"What specifically feels weird?" You ask, stepping closer to him to examine his outfit. He smells like aftershave and the cologne he's prone to wearing. Why the fuck do you have his cologne memorized, you think to yourself.

"I dunno. I think I just feel outta place."

"Well, you don't look out of place," you say. "These might be what's doing it, though." You tap the top buttons of his shirt, the ones buttoned all the way up to his chin like a toddler going to Christmas mass.

"Ellie said I should do all of 'em since it's a fancy art thing."

"Well, you should stop taking fashion advice from a fifteen-year-old," you laugh. "I promise it's not fancy enough to justify being uncomfortable."

"I'm takin' your word for it." He says as he reaches up to undo his top two buttons, revealing freckles across his chest and collarbones and the tiniest sliver of a gold chain resting against his throat. For some reason, you can't tear your eyes away from the veins in his neck or the delicate necklace stuck to his warm skin. "What, it really looks that bad?" He thankfully breaks through your thoughts, and you try to recover by shaking your head.

"No, no. Not at all. You look really nice," you say, clearing your throat. "Let me get my purse, and we can go." You don't even wait for him to respond. You just turn on your heels and walk to your bedroom. In the security of your bedroom, you let out a long exhale and try to get your mind back on track.

You're just nervous. He's being nice. You're being nice back. It's nothing. It's nothing. It's nothing, you mentally chant. When you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you almost have to laugh at the fierce blush on your cheeks and the distracted look in your eyes. "You better get it together." You say, pointing at yourself in the mirror like it's gonna do anything to make tonight smoother.

The gallery is packed when you get there. Joel curses under his breath as he tries to find a parking spot, and you try to keep your anxiety at bay. All you have to do is show your face, look at the paintings, and leave. Maybe you can manage to steal a bottle of the cheap wine they're undoubtedly serving. It'll be an hour. Two tops. You can do this.

You're so in your head that you didn't notice that Joel parked the car or that he was looking at you until he bumped your knee with his.

"You okay?" He asks. You take a deep breath and nod.

"Just need a second." You mumble. You fiddle with your earrings, your dress, anything to keep your hands busy as you psyche yourself up.

"When's the last time you saw this asshole?"

"He wasn't always an asshole," you try to redirect, but he raises his eyebrows at you. "Since I graduated college."

"We don't have to go in." He offers easily, and you give him a look.

"Yes, we do. My name's on the list and everything."

"So?" He shrugs. "The world's not gonna end just cause one person didn't show up."

"But you drove all the way here."

"And I can drive you all the way back. Besides, it's nice having a pretty girl in my truck. It wouldn't hurt to have you here next to me for a little while longer." He says, and you laugh, feeling some weight lift off your shoulders.

"You get many pretty girls sitting in your truck?"

"Just my pretty girls."

"Right." You say, and he smiles, creating familiar crinkles in the corners of his eyes. They look a little deeper in the moonlight, but his eyes shine differently. Your fingers itch to draw them if only to critique your work and find the answer to why he has such an effect on you. You're aware that you're staring, but you also can't find it in yourself to look away. Not when he's staring back at you so fondly.

"What can I do to help you?" He asks. You feel like you could cry at the sincerity in his voice. You've talked to Ellie about her anxiety, so you know he has some practice in dealing with it, but he's acting like it's second nature. Like this is what he was meant to do. He bumps you again when you start messing with your purse. "Do you want this to be like at the bar? Do you want me to take you home and pretend like we were never here? Do you want me to go in there and crack some skulls? You say the word— any word— and I'll do it for you, darlin'."

Darlin’. It's what he called you when you promised revenge for almost kissing you at the bar. Normally, you'd be against any form of pet name. Henry was not openly affectionate in that way, and you learned not to expect it from him. But here's Joel, dropping the term of endearment almost every time he's been alone with you. It could be that cowboy accent or his knee pressed against yours, but the nickname fills your chest with warmth and pushes away your anxiety.

"Any word, huh?" You ask, and he chuckles.

"My mama raised me not to make promises I didn't have every intention of followin' through on." He says. "What'll it be?"

"I think… I just need you to be there with me."

"Then, that's what I'll do."

"Okay." You mumble, and he smiles as a new wave of comfort washes over you.

"Okay." He says.

"Okay." You take a deep breath and look at him in the driver's seat one more time. "Let's do this." Finally, you open the door and step down from his truck. He's quick to come to your side and offer you his arm before he can even finish locking the car. You smile, tuck your hand under his bicep, and let him keep you upright as you walk in.

The gallery is full of people who look way more qualified than you— art critics, journalists, and other artists who can actually sell a piece. They barely glance at you and Joel when you breach the doorway, which you're silently grateful for. When a waiter walks by with champagne glasses, Joel quickly snatches two glasses from the tray and hands you one.

"Here's to us." He says, and you cock an eyebrow at him.

"Us?"

"Well, we're sure as hell not toastin' to that asshole, are we?"

"I guess not," you laugh as you clink your glasses together. "To us." You each take a sip, and Joel tries to hide his reaction to the champagne, but you see right through it. "Not your speed?"

"Not at all." He groans as he chokes it down.

"Don't worry, maverick, we'll get you something else later." You promise and tuck your hand back under his arm as you start walking through the gallery.

A lot of his newer work resembles his work from college— normal portraits of things like fruits, beds, or people but with unexpected lines of colors lining them like they're vibrating. You even recognize some from your college days. You just never expected them to actually be displayed in this way, not even when you were dating and telling him what a good artist you thought he was. Some have vague titles like "$12" and "Jack," while others are untitled. You can see why it would get taken in by a gallery. There's a very clear skill in how he paints and manipulates everyday objects into something new. It would be impressive if it was interesting.

Maybe you're just used to the way he paints. Maybe this is exactly what you expected of him. Maybe you thought he would've grown, if not in attitude than, at least, in skill. But it's clear that too many people told him good things about his work, and he saw nothing he needed to change or fix. Somehow, it makes you feel better, not worse, about your own art.

"So, are these supposed to be good or bad?" Joel whispers to you as you get closer to the next section, and you laugh a little too loudly. The people around you give you nasty looks, but you can't find it in yourself to be sorry.

"Like I said at the museum, I can't tell you that, but…" you glance around to make sure nobody's listening to you. "As someone who saw him make a lot of art, this is definitely not his best."

"Okay, that's what I thought," he says before pointing at a specific part of the painting. "The shape is really weird right there, like he ran outta space or somethin'." You let go of his arm and step between him and the painting, smiling knowingly.

"Did you study for this?" You ask, and he nervously plays with the chain around his neck.

"I may have… snuck a look at Ellie's notes." He admits sheepishly, and your eyes widen.

"You were actin' like you were gonna have to rely on me this whole time! You don't need me to tell you what good art is!"

"Yeah, but I want you to."

"Oh, whatever. C'mon, I wanna hear what else you think." You pretty much drag him to the next section of the gallery, but he's pliant and almost giddy at your hold on him. You take more time in the next part, and he ducks so his lips are near your ear to point out little things he notices. He said he was scared of being wrong in front of people "smarter than him," but all the observations he makes are valid and accurate. He lets you add your own analysis to his and watches you with a smile when you start talking with your hands excitedly. Suddenly, you're not nearly as miserable as you thought you would be, and you're even laughing together as you jump from painting to painting.

"See, this isn't so bad!" You say as you move to the final part, but your smile and enthusiasm die when you step over the threshold. There, staring at you unashamedly is the painting Henry did of you when you were twenty and topless. He told you it was for his own artistic development, and you were more than happy to do it for him. You just never thought he would've kept it after all these years. Thank God your face isn't visible in the painting, but your rigid posture tells Joel everything he needs to know. He politely turns his back to the painting and steps between you and your likeness.

"You wanna go?" He whispers at the same time someone calls your name. You take a deep breath and grab Joel's hand for support as you turn around and face Henry. His wavy blonde hair frames his face like it did in college but he's matured. His beard is a little more filled in, and he's gotten a little broader. Other than that, he's still the same person you met freshman year.

"I'm so glad you could make it!" He says as he approaches. He doesn't try to hug you, and you don't move to let go of Joel's hand. "You look great. I mean, you always looked great, but you know what I meant," he says, looking over you. Only when Joel clears his throat does Henry even look at him. "Oh, sorry, man! We're old friends. I'm Henry." He holds his hand out for Joel to meet halfway, but he doesn't. You think it probably took fighting every single bit of southern hospitality in his veins to stop himself from shaking Henry's hand.

"'M Joel." He says, and Henry awkwardly drops his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Joel. How are you enjoying the exhibition?"

"'S alright." Is all Joel offers, not willing to gas up Henry's ego anymore, and you have to stifle a laugh at the expectant look on Henry's face. "Well, I think we were just goin'."

"Oh, so soon? You haven't even seen the last few pieces."

"Are those any better than the thirty identical ones I already saw?"

"Joel," you scold quietly, and his jaw flexes when you look at him.

"It's okay. Not everyone understands art enough to enjoy it." Henry says.

"Oh, I understand everythin' just fine." You swear Joel would've punched him if he wasn't holding your hand so tight. You step in between them and raise your eyebrows at Joel. His shoulders are squared, and you can feel the molten anger rolling off him, but it softens just a bit when he meets your eyes. You squeeze him twice to let him know you're okay, and he nods.

"Can you get me a refill on champagne? I think they're still walkin' around with some." You suggest. He gets the hint, but he obviously doesn't like it. He glances between you and Henry like he's trying to make a decision but folds when you mouth, "please," at him.

"’Course," he says through gritted teeth. "Anythin' else I can get for you, baby?" Baby, that's a new one, you think.

"No, I'm alright. Thanks, though." You say. Without thinking, you let your other hand rest on his jaw and kiss Joel's cheek. His jaw unclenches when your fingertips graze his stubble, and his shoulders relax when your lips make contact with his skin, but you know he's still upset because you're still upset. Joel smiles and walks away before you can get a good look at the blush creeping up his neck, and you're resigned to watching him disappear into the crowd.

"He seems nice," Henry says the second Joel is out of earshot, and you have to resist the urge to laugh.

"He is."

"How'd you two meet?"

"Through work." You say, knowing that bringing up teaching will make his skin crawl. He sucks his teeth and nods, the champagne in his glass sloshing slightly.

"Ah," he says. "That's nice."

"Yeah," you agree. An awkward silence falls over the two of you quickly, and you're itching to find Joel in the sea of people. Henry notices your lack of attention on him.

"It's really good to see you," he says. "I feel like I haven't talked to you in forever."

"Yeah, that's usually what happens when you leave someone."

"That's kinda why I invited you here tonight. I wanted to apologize for the way things ended," he acts brokenhearted and torn up about it, but he's years too late for the pity party he's expecting. "I should've talked to you about what was going on. We were just... becoming so different, and it felt like you were always talking to Andie or other people in the program, and there was no way to reach you."

"What are you talking about? I asked you multiple times if we were okay, and you said yes every time. I was talking to Andie so much because I needed someone who would understand me and be able to help." You say, and he waves his hand like he's swatting flies.

"Let's not do this. My therapist says it's not healthy to rehash the past like this. I just wanted to make amends and let you know I'm sorry for how you felt." It's not an apology. Not a real one, anyway. Jesus Christ, what did you ever see in him? Before you can even open your mouth to say something, he gestures to the gallery. "So, what do you think about all this? Crazy, right?"

"It's... something," you say. "Wish you would've given me a heads up about that one before I brought someone with me." You point in the direction of your half-naked body on the wall, and he gives you a confused look.

"I thought I did in the email."

"Nope, I think I would've remembered if you said something about a half-naked painting of me from college being displayed," you shake your head. "Why do you even still have that? I thought you would've thrown it away or painted over it or something."

"Why would I do that? It's a good piece."

"I know it's good because it's my body. What's weird is you leaving me without a word one day and then keeping a naked picture of me all these years."

"I didn't even think of it as your body. After a while, it was just a body," he says with no remorse, and you think you might hit him yourself. "Besides, you should take this as a compliment. Not many women get the opportunity to be depicted as art. It's a wonderful thing. You might even thank me one day when you're older." Finally, you see Joel walking toward you with a glass of champagne, and you take refuge in the fact that he's returning for you. "But, from what I can see, they've definitely stayed the same, so you probably don't have anything to worry about." He says like it's a secret or a compliment. You don't even wait for Joel to say or do anything. You just grab the wine from him and throw it in Henry's face. The people in the immediate vicinity gasp as you slap him and shove the empty glass into his hands.

"Out of all the stupid things I imagined for myself when I was younger, thinking I would marry you was the stupidest," you spit. "Don't you ever try to fucking contact me again."

You feel like a fucking idiot. What did you expect? An apology? Repentance? Regret? He barely apologized when you were together. Why would he start now? God, was he always that bad? How could you have been so blind? How could you have shed so many tears over him? How could you have let yourself be so vulnerable with him and for so many years? It's a miracle he didn't call the cops and try to get the two of you arrested, even though Joel didn't do anything. You think, at least. The second you finished your sentence, you ran to the bathroom to cry and then snuck out through the back to wait outside Joel's truck. For all you know, Joel (rightfully) beat his ass and is on the run from artsy Austin hipsters.

You put the lit cigarette back in your mouth and take a long drag, the familiar burning in your lungs a sick relief. You quit during The Dark Days because smoking was something he did, and you wanted to rid yourself of any reminder of his impact on your life. Apparently, at the same time you were scrubbing his fingerprints from your bones, he was in possession of and doing God knows what with the visual reminder of your vulnerability and love-sickness and acted like it was nothing. Like it was a compliment. Like it was just an object instead of your body. Andie would be pissed if she were here but especially if she saw you smoking after she braved all those shaky days and nights of nicotine patches and dried fruit and whatever other remedy recommended to help you quit smoking. You half-expect the same anger when you see Joel walking toward you.

"Before you even start, I know I shouldn't, okay? It's a bad habit from when I was a kid, and I've mostly kicked it. I just... had a lapse. I'll be back on my best behavior tomorrow," you say as he stops in front of you. He doesn't look angry or upset. He just looks concerned and maybe even a little sad. Suddenly, you regret running away from him when all he probably wanted to do was help. You probably wouldn't have bummed a cigarette from a busboy if you let him. "Don't tell Ellie." You plead. His eyes flick over your face before he takes the cigarette from your fingers, puts the lipstick-stained filter in his own mouth, and inhales deeply, making the ember glow in the dark of the night. When he exhales, he blows the smoke away from you and lets the wind carry it in the opposite direction. A considerate smoker. You should've guessed.

"Don't tell Ellie," he says, handing the cigarette back to you. "Are you okay?"

You shake your head and take a long drag. It's quiet between you two for a while, the only sound being the cicadas and the distant chatter of the gallery. They're probably still talking about the psycho bitch who threw her wine in the artist's face. You don't really care. "I'm sorry for tonight. I don't know what I was expecting, and I sure as shit didn't know that painting was gonna be displayed. I swear, if I had any idea how bad this was gonna be, I wouldn't have invited you."

"Why are you apologizin'? It's not your fault."

"I shouldn't have roped you into this. I should've just said no, ignored the email, or came by myself. It's not fair that you got put in the middle of all this, especially when you were just trying to be nice. You're the parent of one of my students, and for you to see that side of me is just inappropriate. I just-" he stops your rambling by putting his hands on your shoulders and making you look at him, the cigarette falling to the pavement in the process.

"Hey, hey. Stop. Take a breath." He says. Your head hurts from crying, and part of you wants to crawl into a hole and stay there until these feelings go away, but his eyes are gentle, and his hands are warm. You think he might be the only reason you're holding it together right now. "None of this is your fault, okay? Not the painting, not the conversation, none of it. We're both adults, and we can handle these things rationally. I'm not scarred for life just 'cause you lost your temper."

"But I-"

"No, buts. You told me the situation, and I didn't care. You warned me bout the art people, and I didn't care. You threw a drink in that asshole's face, and I didn't care," he says. "The only thing I care bout right now is makin' sure you're okay. Fuck everythin' else." You search his face for anything to tell you what he's telling you is going against his inner monologue but find none. He's completely and wholly concerned about you and nothing else. Not how fast he can get out of this. Not how this might look. Not what other people might think about him. Nothing. You take a deep breath and nod.

"Fuck everything else." You agree.

"Now, you're gettin' the hang of it." He jokes, and you roll your eyes at him. He takes it in stride, his smile never fading as he looks down at you. You stop messing with the hem of your dress and let yourself relax for the first time all night.

"Thank you for being here, Joel. I really appreciate it."

"Not our best not-date, but definitely a memorable one." He says, and you laugh. You seem to realize how close you are at the same time because you both fall silent. His curls are beautifully draped over his face, and you can't stop watching his tiny expressions. An eye squint. A purse of the lips. A bite to the inside of his cheek. You want to blame your bad night or the emotions, but you can't. There's something more there. Something that's been brewing beneath the surface since he came into your classroom. Something that will kill you if you don't act on it.

You let your hands come up from your sides and tentatively brush against his waist as you stare at him, waiting for him to say something, but he doesn't. He just stares down at your lips, and the hands on your shoulders slowly move across your skin and up your collarbone— leaving goosebumps in his wake— until his hands are on your jaw and your pulse is thrumming against his palm. You pull him closer by his belt loops, and he doesn't hesitate to crowd your space, pushing you into the side of his truck with his body. His lips ghost over yours, just barely touching, and his nose bumps yours.

"This is a bad idea," you breathe, tightening your hold on him. He nods and presses his forehead against yours. He's still close enough to breathe the same air as him, but the distance feels like miles. You lean forward a fraction as a test, and he doesn't move. If anything, he seems annoyed you didn't kiss him.

"D'you want to stop?" He asks, sounding just as breathless as you feel. You shake your head and swallow hard when he brushes the hair off your shoulder, and you can feel his heavy hand holding you. Your hands skate over his ribs, feeling muscles and a crazed heartbeat, and his jaw clenches. "Then you better do somethin' cause you've been drivin' me fuckin' crazy for weeks."

Finally, you catch his lips with yours. He tastes like nicotine and smoke, and you know it's going to take a lot more than patches to get you to want to stop doing this. It's gentle and sweet, all relieved sighs and shy touches until you pull away for just a second to second-guess yourself or ask him something. You don't even start to form the words before he's back on you with more fervor. Suddenly, it's like he's everywhere but not nearly close enough. He nibbles at your bottom lip and tests a hand on your sternum, long fingers grazing your throat. The metal of the truck digs into your back, but you stop caring when a little moan slips from his lips when you pull him closer.

This is a bad idea. A horrible one. A bad habit you're gonna need to kick.

But he might just be your favorite bad idea so far.

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 5 months

Note

Am I the asshole for blocking my friends who I suspect wrote mpreg about “me”?

I (21ftm) have two friends who have recently been writing a story together, I’ll call them O and S, O and S are both cis woman my age. They openly discuss the story on our friend groups discord server in a channel dedicated to this story. O draws the character designs while S primarily writes and they added a character into their story a few months ago who I believe was meant to be me, or at least inspired by me, they’ve done this in the past with other friends of ours who have side characters and cameos, I can usually tell because the character has a name similar to their real life counterpart and a design similar as well, such is the case with “my” character, he is a trans man who looks like me and his name is a shortened nickname of my chosen one.

I wouldn’t have an issue with a character inspired by me but they made him gay and began shipping him with a pre-existing male character which made me uncomfortable because I am very much not gay, the other characters inspired by our friends weren’t given love interests or anything so I can’t say they’ve changed the sexualities of those tribute characters. I don’t care if a character is gay, but this character is clearly meant to be representing me and I’m very uncomfortable with this. People assuming I’m attracted to men is a BIG dysphoria trigger to me and they KNOW this because I told them in the past and when they first wrote this in, all my life I’ve had people assuming I was into men because I was AFAB and I’ve dealt with a lot of “comphet” stuff, I’ve been harassed and haven’t been believed when I told people my actual sexuality, the expectation that I would one day get into a relationship with a man and have children with one was treated like an inevitability by the people around me and it scared the fuck out of younger me.

When they first wrote this relationship, i asked them to change it, i said that if they wanted to put this character into a relationship he could have one with a woman instead, they refused and said they liked the rep it gave, though there is already lots of gay rep in the story and I said that it would still be rep because the character is trans but they didn’t change it, so I then asked that this character could be changed so he wasn’t actually related to me in looks and name and they again refused, which made less sense to me because I didn’t (and still don’t) understand what they got out of writing someone who was basically me into a gay relationship. I gave up because I didn’t want to cause drama in the friend group and other the next weeks I spent less time on the friend groups server and never checked the stories channel because I was still extremely dysphoric and upset. It made me feel angry that they didn’t consider how I felt and dismissed my suggestions.

The next time I checked on that server was a month later and they were discussing the future of the story where some of the characters had children, among those characters that had children were the male character my tribute character was in a relationship with, I came into the chat and asked them how that character had kids, O posted a blushing emoji and said he had kids “the fun way”, I asked further and they said my character also had children and at this point I got really angry and just left the server and blocked them.

Later on one of the friend group J (22nb) dmed me saying that I was being dramatic and that I had no right to control what they put in their story, we had an argument and two of my other friends said I was “ruining the fun” and trying to censor their story and it wasn’t “explicitly clear that it was me”. I originally thought that if you are writing something inspired by someone and it’s making them upset you should stop right? But now I’m not so sure and I’m still feeling very down, I don’t know why they decided to write that in, and especially about someone meant to be a tribute to me, it feels like they’ve taken everything I told them about my dysphoria and distilled it down into something to hurt me.

Aita?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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ellilyre · 1 month

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Ive lose the ask asking for my transmasc!Leo headcanon TT but i have them written down so imma post em like that

Leo transmasc headcanon

(many things are based on my own experience. Especially the dysphoria related things (so when i talk about Leo not being a real boy it is what he thinks bc of dysphoria. It’s not true.))

(warning angst angst (but thats Leo so that was expected)

it was so obvious even when he was small. He always wanted to play with boys, wear boys clothes, ect… His mom was fine with it. She bought him boys toys and clothes and even sometimes called him hijo. She was a bit confused, but she knew it made her child happy and it's all that mattered.

However, it didn’t go that well with his foster homes. However much he tried, they always stuck to his deadname and she/her. That was a big part of the reason he kept running away.

There really is no story behind the name Leo. He picked that one bc it sounded cool.

Once he got a good enough passing, he did everything he could so ppl will assume he’s cis.

Don’t ask me how he gots his hands on hrt. It’s a long and weird story.

The wilderness school was very strict about not mixing girls and boys in dorms.

Piper was his roommate, that’s how they met.

In their memories created by Hera, Jason has kinda always known he’s trans. So Leo never bothered to hide it from Jason (as he does with others).

But Jason doesn’t have much (any) education on transidentity… At first he assumed Leo was a cis guy, and then some things were a bit confusing (why was he in fem dorms ? Why does he wear a tank top under his shirt ? Did he just ask Piper for a tampon???) but he just kinda gave up on trying to understand, bc Leo is a nice guy anyways. And with time (and exterior knowledge on the matter) he started to put the pieces together and to understand that “ooh ok that makes sense".

Otherwise. Leo has no desire to get out of his comfortable closet.

He has such a fragile masculinity

Sometimes he acts a little bit macho. He’s aware he’s acting like an asshole but he’s terrified of being perceived as feminine.

Why does he try to flirt with every girl he sees ? Another attempt to pass better (and comfort himself in his fragile masculinity) by copying stereotypical boys' things.

He overbind so much, GODS. Man will wear his binder for 11h straight (while fighting and running around) and then have the audacity to complain that his body hurts.

Piper tries very hard to remind him to take proper breaks.

Jason is the biggest gender envy ever. He is handsome, tall, muscular… Leo really loves him but he also is so jealous and envious.

He is very envious of other boys in general.

When Percy got woken up in the middle of the night and left his cabin shirtless. When Frank went to take a break in the men’s restroom…

Gods, he would do anything to just be a normal boy. To be like them. To have their bodies. To not have to destroy his body to look slightly more masculine. To not have this constant fear that they’re gonna find out.

And to add to the reasons why he felt so much like the 7th wheel : Among the 7 there are 3 girls, 3 boys… And Leo. Forever inbetween. Not a girl, but not a boy like the others either.

Fortunately, with time he learnt to accept himself better and to feel more comfortable with others.

Piper helped him to go easier on himself. And he had an actual proper talk with Jason.

The first person he actually came out to was probably Annabeth, bc she’s cool and wise and nice.

And then he saw it actually was ok. She didn’t treat him any differently, she didn’t tell anyone else. She was cool with it.

He then told Frank and Hazel, with Piper’s help (mostly to explain to Hazel all those new terms). And it also went very great ! He then also told Percy and Nico.

He’s not entirely out, just to his closest friends and his siblings at camp. And it’s enough.

He still overbinds, but he has ppl to (discreetly) remind him to take care of himself. He’s still very dysphoric but his loved ones know how to remind him that he is their brother, an amazing boy.

#pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #leo valdez #heroes of olympus #hoo #pjo hoo toa #pjo headcanon

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singto-prachaya · 5 days

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Shitshow

So yesterday I saw a shitshow unfold and it made me both sad and angry. The fact that my two biggest faves have to deal with this and that most likely no on involved will be punished for what they have done. I'm sure not everything that's done yet has been translated but let me post what we got already.

Daou Pittaya was SH'ed on set by and uncle staff member and they made fun of Daou Pittaya being SH'ed. They also done some other stuff.

TW's are on the first tweet and I will put the rest under the cut

On the 1st day of shooting, they post this without telling the name of the series, but we can tell from the comment on the 2nd pic that it's col.

The thing is, the comments on the 3rd picture are super concerning. Even though they didn't say names or mention anyone, the fact that they are talking on the post about the 1st day of shooting is telling.

I will leave it for you to interpret the conversion. They might just talk about themselves or something worse, but it's disgusting either way

Second part is that uncle guy and some other staff have been leaking stuff about the series constantly. From cast members that weren't allowed to be revealed yet to other stuff.

They did delete the pictures with DO and Pond, but they retouched the pic and removed all 3 actors out and posted the retouched pic. With the caption "when the problems occurred, I'm just gonna face it".

TW : homophobic remarks, derogatory terms( F** )

The next day, after they had to take down the photo, the predator posted this on his Facebook. His friend(part of the crew) also raised the middle finger and commented, "Oops, unintentionally raised my finger."

Another person commented derogatory terms on the 2nd picture. I believe that everyone already know who this bitch referring to.

When i say that the word she used is the equivalent of the word "F" or "F***" I mean it*. To be more specific, it's derogatory terms for calling a fem gay man. So, yes, people in the LGBTQIAN+ community can be this Homophobic.

The 3rd pic is the people who laugh about the derogatory terms.

Yesterday, after the SH video came out and everyone was talking about it, (my assumption is that) D did some digging and found the comment on the 2nd pic, then proceeded to give the comment a WOW.

This is the reason why he tweeted, " Homophobic is disgusting. Just stop it. It's 2024 already. " On Twitter.

*The Thai equivalent they used is "tud".

He made another fb post which they above did not translate yet. But Google trans gave me the following: "A sad love triangle. The three of us. The slut is sitting with her face smiling. Haha."

See the original twitter thread here

#daou pittaya #offroad kantapon #daouoffroad #shitshow #disgusting behavior

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hiaon · 5 months

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Someone asked for a top! Femboy x bottom! trans masc.. I accidentally posted it so.. I need to restart. If it's you thank you for giving me Ideas! Also you didn't specify how the story should go, so I made my own.

Broken and fixed again.

Disclaimer: cheating(only briefly), sexual intercourse (Not really)

You we're a famous influencer that was followed by millions, but recently your girlfriend for 2 years cheated on you. So you decide to drink in a bar instead of drinking alone in your house.

When you sit came at the bar and then ordered alcohol, you saw a lady pass by and sat down two sits away from you.

And you can clearly see that she is beautiful and very majestic, since you we're two sits away you let the bartender give her a drink and tell her that it was you that gave her the drink.

You we're fidgeting with your hands, because whenever you find someone attractive you kind of just freeze for a moment. You didn't notice because you we're thinking of how beautiful she is, but she was looking at you and smiled she noticed that you we're to shy to make the first move. So she did.

She got up and sat next to you, you finally snapped out of your little nervous moment and noticed the beautiful person next to you.

"Oh! Your the guy that your dumped your girlfriend for cheating!" She said cheerfully, evern her voice is beautiful. You didn't really know what to say, but you worked it through. One thing you hate about your social media career was your fans just like to invade your privacy.

"Yeah.. That's actually why I'm here actually, to forget about her even a little bit.." you said avoiding her eyes.

'That's cute' She thought.

"I'm sorry do you want to change the topic?" She asked you in a calm manner.

"Sure-" Before you could you could continue your conversation with her, someone called you. It was your ex girlfriend, she was telling you to get back whit her again. Of course you said no, but she threatened you that she will ___.

"W-what.! Wait, I'll be there. Don't you dare do it.." You we're getting threats almost everyday it was getting annoying. She was just doing it for attention, she wasn't going to actually do it.

"Sorry but I need to go.." But before you can stand up she grabbed your hand— which was quite strong.

"Can you give me your number first?" She asked you as you happily obliged.

As you we're leaving you felt that her stare was burning you, or more likely your ass.

3 Days later

When you we're just laying around doing nothing, you received a message.

Unknown

Hi, It's the person that you meet at the bar. Wait, we forgot to exchange names.. The name is Ash. What's yours? I'm sorry I totally forgot to ask for your name 😞.

You

Ohh! It's also my fault.. I didn't even though of asking for your name. But my [Y/N].

You renamed "Unknown" into 'Ash'.

Ash

I have nothing to do right now, do you want to hang out? It's okay if you don't wanna.

You

I have nothing to do as well, so it's perfect timing actually.

Ash

Okay then, how about a club?

You

Sure!

Ash

Btw, did you think that I was a women?

You

You aren't?? Huh.. But we can still talk! I was just finding someone I can talk to at a bar.. (LIES)

Ash

That's good then.

*At the Club*

You just arrived at the club and you we're looking for Ash, and somebody touched your ass. It was highly uncomfortable. Ash found you and pulled you away from the man that was touching your ass.

"Ugh, fucking bitch.." Ash mumbled in his breath.

"Huh?" You didn't heard it though.

"Nothing, do you want to have a drink?" His voice completely changed of tone when he was talking shut about that dude.

"Sure!"

40 minutes later..

You forgot that you we're a very weak drinker, and get drunk very easily.

Ash didn't know where you house is and you we're clearly to drunk to tell him. So he made the second best decision, he went to his house instead.

When he was carrying you to his bedroom when he just noticed that you were a very talkative guy when you are drunk. He didn't mind it though, you're very cute when you're like that.

"You know, when I found.. *Hic* out you were a guy.. I didn't really care, I still *Hic* find youu.. reallyyy really attractive.." After you said what you said he was already at his bedroom. He gently put you down.

".... Damn it, I was going to take my time with you to be in a relationship. But this changed my mind." He said as he took your lips swiftly and tasting your acholic taste. You woke up.

"Is this a dream..?" You asked.

"..Yes, yes it is." Ash said

"Ah. Ugh I'm having a wet dream about Ashy again. But since I know *Hic*.. that he is an actual he, this *Hic* might be different.." After you said that you stretched your arms.

"Just do it already.. *Hic*" He was actually just planning to kiss you and sleep besides you, but now that he got the consent that he was waiting for... He can do it with you now.

He immediately took off your shirt pants and underwear — but the underwear was just hanging by on one of your leg.

Part 2 for the actual sexual intercourse?

Also I made this with my friend! — @nosus69

#oc x male reader #x male reader #x you #male reader smut #oneshot #smut #transgender #gay

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mollymauk-teafleak · 3 months

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Huskerdust babies?? Please say more

GLADLY oh my god there was no way I was going to be able to restrain myself until I made time to write a fic. and right off the bat, so much credit goes to @minky-for-short who came up with this with me

Okay, I'm going to bullet point it for structure. And first off, whether you want this to be a trans Angel Dust or demon magic making it possible or Angel being a porn demon giving him different genitals, go crazy, I don't mind any interpretation

So the fact that this happens is a result of their gradual redemption. Demons aren't supposed to be able to reproduce but as Angel and Dusk slowly improve themselves, they start changing in ways they don't notice and the curse they have in Hell starts to weaken

Charlie is actually the first person to find out, she clocks that Angel is feeling sick which is pretty unusual because he's actually been cutting way back on his general debauchery, having a much healthier coping mechanism over behind the bar. He insists he's fine because he's used to powering through pain and discomfort with a smile on his face. But she won't have it, she's going to get him checked out

Healthcare is very hard to come by in Hell but Charlie can get him access to the facilities in the Sloth ring. But the doctors there are just as stumped, no one can figure out whats wrong with him, it's not a bad batch of drugs, its not a hangover, he's just throwing up and miserable and exhausted

They're back at the hotel and it's Charlie who notices the barest of little sentient sparks when Angel Dust moves but it's not coming from him, it's coming from inside him. And she's the one who realises. And Angel Dust is convinced she's spouting idealistic bullshit but he can't deny it

It's a while before he can bring himself to tell Husk, he's terrified that it means he'll just want to call things off with him, that he's clearly not a winning hand. But eventually they're sat together and Husk mentions casually that whenever he's ready to tell him whats bothering him, he'll listen. Like, he's realised he's scared but he still gave him the space to deal with it and thats what makes Angel Dust brave enough to say it out loud. And after a moment of quiet, Husk just shrugs and says well lets hope he makes a better daddy than he did an overlord, huh?

They have twins in the end, a boy and a girl. Both dads got to name one twin each so Husk calls their son Howard, Howie for short, after a famous magician and Angel Dust calls his daughter Belladonna, Bella for short, because he wanted to give her a name that made her sound strong and able to defend herself

The twins are utterly adorable, no one can deny it. They have the multiple arms from their pops and little heart shaped pink patches on black fur from their daddy, each with a set of wings like his too. They act a lot like kittens, rolling around and hissing and pouncing on whatever moves in the hotel

They're also unashamed trouble makers, they really only listen to their daddy and their pops, everyone else has to bribe them. Fortunately they're cute enough to get away with everything and anything.

The twins also have a super close bond with their Auntie Charlie. I can go into more detail about this in another post but she ends up with the contract for their souls to protect them from both Heaven and Valentino (Alastor has no interest in the babies, beyond not really minding as much as he should when they climb up him, knock his hat off and call him Uncle Al)

But yes I have many many ideas about these two being dads and their little demons and all of that so feel free to bug me about them!

#huskerdust #hazbin hotel #hazbin husk #hazbin angel dust #headcanons

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 7 months

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By: Anonymous

Published: Oct 16, 2023

When my first son claimed he was trans, I eagerly ‘affirmed’ him. When his three-year-old brother decided he wanted to be trans, too, I realized I’d made a terrible mistake.

I was a social-justice organizer and facilitator before social justice took over the progressive world. I was at the nascent movement’s forefront, introducing the concept of intersectionality to organizations and asking people to share their pronouns.

My friends and I felt like we were the cool kids, on the vanguard of the revolutionary wave that would change the world. We were going to achieve what people in that milieu call “collective liberation.”

Within this context, I came out as a lesbian and identified as queer. I also fell in love, entered a committed relationship, and gave birth to a son. Two years later, my spouse gave birth to our second son.

Having children and experiencing the love and devotion I felt toward them, was a game changer for me. I began to experience internal tensions. My thinking was split between what I felt instinctively as a mother; and what I “should” be feeling and doing as a white anti-racist social-justice parent.

Because I’d felt victimized by my parents’ rejection of my sexuality, I wanted to make sure to honor my own children’s “authentic” selves. In particular, I was primed to look for any clues that might suggest they could be transgender.

My spouse and I raised our sons with gender-neutral clothes, toys, and language. While we used he/him pronouns, and others called them boys, we did not call them boys, or even tell them that they were boys.

In our everyday reading of books or descriptions of people in our lives, we did not say “man” or “woman”; we said “people.” We thought we were doing the right thing, both for them and for the world.

Even when our first son was still young, he already struck us as different from other boys—being both extremely gifted and unusually sensitive. By age three or so, he started to orient more toward the females in his life than the males. “I like the mamas,” he would say.

We started to attribute some of this difference to the possibility that he was transgender. Instead of orienting him toward the reality of his biological sex by telling him he was a boy, we wanted him to tell us if he felt he was a boy or a girl. As true believers, we thought that we should “follow his lead” to determine his true identity.

At the same time, I was taking a deep dive into the field of attachment and child development. This made me understand that attachment is hierarchical; and that parents, not children, are meant to be in the lead. This obviously conflicted with my insistence on letting my child decide his gender. Sadly, it was the latter impulse that won the day.

At around age four, my son began to ask me if he was a boy or a girl. I told him he could choose. I didn’t use those words—I imagined that I was taking a more sophisticated approach. I told him, “When babies are born with a penis, they are called boys, and when babies are born with a vagina, they are called girls. But some babies who are born with a penis can be girls, and some babies born with a vagina can be boys. It all depends on what you feel deep inside.”

He continued to ask me what he was, and I continued to repeat these lines. I’d resolved my inner conflict by “leading” my son with this framework. Or so I told myself.

His question, and my response to it, would come back to haunt me. In fact, I remain haunted to this day. To the extent I was “leading” my son anywhere, it was down a path of lies—an on-ramp to psychological damage and irreversible medical interventions. All in the name of love, acceptance, and liberation.

About six months later, he told my spouse that he was a girl and wanted to be called “sister” and “she/her.” I received a text message about this at work. On the way home that night, I resolved to put all my own feelings away and support my transgender child. And that is what I did.

We told him he could be a girl. He jumped up and down on the bed, happily saying, “I’m a girl, I’m a girl!” We—not our son—initiated changing his name. We socially transitioned him and enforced this transition with his younger brother, who was then only two years old and could barely pronounce his older brother’s real name.

When I look back at this, it is almost too much to write about. How could a mother do this to her child? To her children?

Once we made this decision, we received resounding praise and affirmation from most of our peers. One of my friends, who’d also socially transitioned her young child, assured me that this was a healthy, neutral way to allow children to “explore” their gender identity before puberty, when decisions would have to be made about puberty blockers and hormones.

We sought out support groups for parents of transgender children, so that we could find out if we’d done the “right thing.” It hadn’t escaped my notice that our son hadn’t exhibited any signs of actual gender dysphoria. Was he actually transgender?

At these support groups, we were told, again, what good parents we were. We were also told that kids on the autism spectrum (which our son likely is) are gender savants who simply know they are transgender earlier than other kids.

At one of the support groups we attended, we were also told that transgender identity takes a few years to develop in children. The gender therapist running things told us that during this period, it’s important to protect the child’s transgender self-conception—which meant eliminating all contact with family or friends who didn’t support the idea that our son was a girl. I believed her.

Looking back, I now see her comments in a shockingly different light: this was part of an intentional process of concretizing transgender identity in children who are much too young to know themselves in any definitive way. (One set of parents attending the group had a child who was just three years old.) When identity is “affirmed” in this manner, children will grow up believing they are actually the opposite sex.

The therapist endorsed the same approach that many adolescents use on their parents, who are urged to write letters to grandparents, aunts, and uncles to announce the child’s transgender identity. In these letters, the conditions of continued social engagement are made clear: Recipients must use the new name and new pronouns, and embrace the new identity, or they will be denied contact with the child.

After about a year of social transition for our older son, our younger son, who was by now only three years old, began to say he was a girl, too. This came as a complete shock to us. None of the things that made our older son “different” applied to our younger son. He was more of a stereotypical boy and didn’t show the same affinity for the feminine side of things that his older brother did.

The urge for “sameness” is a primal attachment drive in many family members. We felt that our younger son’s assertion of being a girl likely reflected his desire to be like his older sibling, in order to feel connected to him.

His claim to be a girl became more insistent when both brothers went to school part-time, because their program included pronoun sharing. Why could the older sibling be a “she” when the younger sibling couldn’t? Our younger son became more insistent, and we became more distressed.

We made an appointment to see the gender therapist whom we’d met at the support group. We truly believed that she would be able to help us sort out who, if anyone, was actually transgender.

To our shock, the therapist immediately began referring to our younger son as “she,” stating that whatever pronouns a young child wants to use are the pronouns that must be used.

She patronizingly assured us that it might take us more time to adjust, since parents have a hard time with this sort of thing. She added that it was transphobic to believe there was anything wrong with our younger son wanting to be like his older transgender sibling.

When I pushed back and asserted that I wasn’t yet convinced our younger son was in fact transgender, she told me that if I failed to change his pronouns and honor his newly announced identity, he could develop an attachment disorder.

We were unconvinced. But, again, we wanted to do what was right for our son and for the world. We decided to tell him he could be a girl. And that night at dinner, we told him that we would call him “she/her.”

Right after dinner, I went to play an imaginary game with him, and I wanted to be affirming. So I put a big, warm smile on my face and said, “Hi, my girl!”

At this, my younger son stopped, looked at me, and said, “No, mama. Don’t call me that.” His reaction pierced me to my core. I didn’t turn back after that.

For the next two years, my partner and I dug deeper, agonized, and then continued digging again. Everything we thought we knew or believed that had led us to socially transition our older son began to unravel.

I continued to study the attachment-based developmental approach to parenting and learned more about autism and hypersensitivity. We decided not to socially transition our younger son. Not only was he not transgender, we now realized, but our older son probably wasn’t either.

He was just a highly sensitive, likely autistic boy who saw a girl identity as a form of psychic protection. It also provided him a way of attaching to me through sameness.

My spouse and I decided that since we’d been the ones who’d led him down this path, we were the ones who needed to lead him off of it.

A year ago, just before our older son’s eighth birthday, we did just that. And while the initial change was hard—incredibly hard—the strongest emotion exhibited by our son turned out to be relief.

In the days following my first conversation with him about going back to his birth name and pronouns, during which I told him that males cannot be females and that we were wrong to tell him he could choose to be a girl, he got very mad at me, then sad. Then, the next day, I felt my son rest. I felt him release a burden, an adult burden that he, as a child, was never meant to carry.

Since that time, we’ve all been healing. My son is now happy and thriving. We’ve watched him come to a deeper peace with himself as a boy.

Our younger son is also thriving. Once his older brother became his older brother again, he happily, and almost immediately, settled into his identity as a boy.

I feel like someone who’s escaped a cult—a cult whose belief system is supported by our mainstream culture, the Internet, and even the state.

I fear for the future—the future of sensitive, feminine, socially awkward boys. I fear what the world will tell them about who they are.

But no matter what the future holds, I will never ever stop fighting to protect my sons. I am no longer a true believer.

#gender ideology #queer theory #genderwang #gender cult #social transition #autism #social justice #critical social justice #affirmation model #gender affirming #gender affirmation #trans identity #gender identity #child psychology #religion is a mental illness

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wen-kexing-apologist · 10 months

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Trans Allegory in Cupid's Last Wish

When I first started my BL journey a few months back, I watched Cupid’s Last Wish as a comparison point for Earth and Mix’s acting after seeing A Tale of A Thousand Stars, because, to be honest, I struggled with Phupa initially and wanted to see if it was a character thing or if Earth just wasn’t a strong actor (I have settled decidedly on Earth being a good actor). Cupid’s Last Wish did not seem to have the widest reception when it came out and I was deep into a rapid BL Binge Watch, so I wasn’t paying the most attention to the story and what it was trying to say when I initially started it. That is, until Episode 6…when I burst into tears after one particular scene, because I had the sudden realization that this show has a trans allegory baked into it. I wanted to watch it again, using that lens from the beginning. In conversations with @lurkingshan she said she was having trouble connecting with Earth as an actor, and I suggested she try this show because it gave me the info I needed to understand Earth’s acting ability. And we picked up @so-much-yet-to-learn along the way.

And so a group watch began! There will be spoilers in this post.

Plot Summary: “Korn and Win are childhood best friends. Conflicts arise when Win's father includes Korn in his will, granting him part of the family's farm's stocks. Misunderstandings follow, breaking up their friendship of 22 years. Their path crosses again when Win gets into a car accident with his sister Lin, and wakes up to find his soul in her body. To return to his original body, Win, in the body of Lin, sets off on a road trip to collect holy water from 4 temples across the country within 7 days. The companion to his journey is none other than his friend turned foe, Korn.” (My Drama List)

Notes:

From the point of the body-swap onward, we will be referring to who is shown on screen as Mix or Jan depending on the actor because we are following the character of Win the entire time, and naming the actors is my way of not invalidating the fact that Win is always present even when Lin's body is on screen.

Anytime we talk about changes in a biological aspect of the story in terms of its connection to trans people, we are referring to the changes trans people commonly experience on HRT (hormone replacement therapy).

Characters: Win: Reason All of This Is Happening, played by Mix Sahaphap Korn: Win’s best friend, played by Earth Pirapat Lin: Win’s sister, played by Jan Ployshompoo Non: Win and Korn’s childhood best friend, played by White Nawat

Episode 1:

One of the first line we get in the show is Win saying “I want a female name”, it is not established until partway through the scene that Win is referring to a female name for a calf. From a trans allegory lens, this is a beautiful establishing moment that there will be gender fuckery about and I love that they let the statement sit for a moment before the reveal.

Win is obviously in love with Korn, Korn is obviously in love with Win, but we see a moment where Win withdraws into himself and gets sad because he sees Korn interacting with Lin and has convinced himself that Korn might not actually feel the same way he does. The jealousy and withdrawn nature that we see occur in Win whenever Korn and Lin interact is going to be a central plot point.

We see Mix when Win wakes up, and we see him standing on one side of the mirror while Jan’s face is reflected back at him.

We end the episode with Win waking up in Lin’s body, fighting everybody to try to attack Korn, and then falling into Korn’s arms, where the imagery shifts from Jan in this scene to Mix as Korn holds Win. From the moment that Win is placed into this female body, Korn still sees Win, the man he has known his whole life.

We identified a pattern going forward: We see Jan when there are multiple witnesses, and we see Mix when it’s just Korn and Win in a scene together or when a scene is shot from Korn’s perspective.

Episode 2

We see Jan when Win tries hitchhiking, and when Win’s being harassed by the men that were picked up by the person he was hitchhiking from, and when Win and Korn first sit down at a restaurant. Places where they are in public, places where Win forgets that he is in the body of a woman and therefore more prone to experiencing danger.

At the restaurant, the waitress walks away, and the scene shifts to Mix when Win and Korn are alone and start talking to each other, then back to Jan when a waitress is called to the table.

At the temple: Mix when Win and Korn are walking alone together, Jan when another person comes to warn them about the spirits in the mountain, and Mix when they are alone again.

Win realizes he has a much smaller appetite in Lin’s body. Trans appetite change: Real.

“That bit about not realizing the danger because you never thought of yourself in a position of vulnerability around men. Real.” -@so-much-yet-to-learn

The type of ghost that is said to exist in the woods of the temple, Krasue, is only a head and entrails, no body. That’s trans, baby.

Episode 3

We see Jan when Win and Korn start running up the stairs towards the temple, Mix when Win faints and gets cradled by Korn.

“Lin is not as physically strong as you” -Korn

Something about Korn having to constantly remind Win about the function of the body that he is in reads as trans to me.

Mix when by themselves, Jan when they run into the woman in the woods, Mix when they leave.

“Just Being Friendly” plays when Korn covers Win’s eyes (Mix is the person on screen for this) …sure puen puen puen…uh huh. This isn’t part of the trans lens stuff, just noting the irony of the song with what we know about the heart eyes between these two.

We see Jan at the public temple.

Win is told by the monk at the second temple: “You are in a female body, keep reminding yourself of that,” Jan’s face:

Cuts to Mix

“If you see things with your eyes and not your heart you won’t see clearly. If you cover your eyes with your hand, you will not be completely blind. But if you shut down your heart you will be completely blind.” Identity is internal, Win is still Win even though he’s in Lin’s body, etc. etc. etc.

Mix when Win and Korn are alone together in the car, Jan when they check in to the hotel.

Win gets a new room when he learns about the open bathroom, “is this because of the sexual tension between Win and Korn or because of the body he’s in?” -smytl. The entire road trip so far, Win has been forgetting about or willfully ignoring the body he is in, but he was just reminded of his body by the abbot.

We see Jan when Win is on FaceTime with his mom, after their mom overhears her employees gossiping about how she should be worried about her daughter traveling with a man. Switches to Mix when Win is off the phone.

“Do you not want me to get cold because you don’t want me to be a burden?” \\ “No, because I care…I care about Lin, she’s not as strong as you” \\ “I think Lin’s body needs more rest”

Korn is always addressing Win but at the same time has to remind Win that he’s in Lin’s body. This is where we can start to see the seeds of doubt about who Korn has feelings for be planted in Win’s mind.

But Korn never has trouble using Win’s name, always referring to Win by his name when they are alone, not trying to maintain pretenses in public.

Win never sleeps in as late as 8am and then takes a nap in the car

“You sleep better on testosterone, and often sleep for a shorter time,” -smytl

We see Jan in the restaurant

We see Mix in the car once again singing to ‘Just Being Friendly’

Episode 4

We see Mix when Win is by himself, Mix when Korn finds Win, Mix when Korn walks them back through the forest, and Mix all evening and in the morning. We only see Jan when they start walking towards the temple.

We see Jan at the restaurant talking to the waitress, Mix when it’s just Win and Korn at the table.

“You worry too much about Lin’s body” -Win

We see Mix in the car, Jan at the rest stop and in the bathroom. The fact that we get Jan for the entire time that Win is alone in the bathroom is intriguing in terms of what getting your period does to remind trans people of their bodies.

They are making brain chemistry a part of the character, they aren’t just plunking a soul into a body. Win’s hunger is impacted, his temperature regulation is impacted, his mood is impacted on his period because he’s experiencing different hormone levels than usual. Noticeable changes in body function can be a part of hormone replacement therapy when people start estrogen, progesterone & spironolactone (transfemme) or testosterone (transmasc).

We see Mix when Win is crying and getting hugged/comforted by Korn. We see Jan in the restaurant but then Mix when he starts eating.

Episode 5

Let’s talk about all the times we see Mix grappling with the period pain, rather than Jan AND that we see Korn care so well for Win AND that Mix is on screen for those scenes so you know that Korn is seeing Win in these moments despite Win having a period.

“Hearing stories over the years of transmacs being comforted by a partner through period pain…For someone to see you so clearly that something we were raised to consider profoundly gendered could not shake their idea of you?” -smytl

We see Jan at the hotel lobby and in the hotel restaurant when the waitress is there. Mix is present when the waitress walks away and Win’s jealousy comes out to play. Jan is present when Korn’s boss drops by for a chat. Win has an angry reaction to being called Korn’s sister. Win, in fact, gets angry or otherwise upset whenever he is referred to as a woman by Korn

Win gets jealous, Mix is on screen when Win plays up his femininity a bit around Korn’s boss to try to warn Korn’s boss about flirting with him.

Episode 6

Now, looking at the entire show with a trans-lens means I have found a lot more scenes that I can read as a trans allegory. But Episode 6 truly has the most obvious moments of transness at least to me (a trans person). Win spends a lot of his time this episode looking at himself in mirrors, grappling with the identity of who he is and whose body he is in:

Korn helps Win (Mix) with his seat-belt “When you’re female-presenting, accepting help feels like the status quo. When you’re male-presenting, accepting help is making a conscious choice. There’s subtle shifts, I don’t know how much of it is being out and feeling like myself or hormonal changes adjusting the brain chemistry but I definitely take pride in the ability to do things myself, care for other people in a different quality than I used to before.” -smytl

We see Mix when Win is leaving the car and running to the stable, Jan when they get to the stable. Korn called Win “Lin” when he fainted after treating Katin’s bloat (Katin is Win’s most favorite dairy cow) because they are around everyone at the farm. Korn is intentionally mis-identifying Win because they are around Win’s entire family who do not know that Win is in the wrong body.

Korn’s calls Win “Lin” again when he pulls Win away from his cousins. His aunt and uncle pick up on the fact that Lin is acting like Win. We see Mix when we cut to Korn carrying Win away and talking with his friend. Again, intentionally mis-identifying Win because they are around people who are not aware.

Win looks in the mirror and sees Lin.

“You looked just like Win, I wondered if you swapped bodies.”

We see Jan on the farm, and with White’s character (White’s character is in love with Lin so it makes sense that he is seeing Lin’s body).

We see Mix when Korn arrives on scene.

“Please keep Lin safe” says Win’s Mom, and Korn and Win share a knowing glance.

“Mom was right. He loves Lin.” THEN MIX STARES INTO THE SIDE MIRROR OF THE CAR AND JAN STARES BACK (Win looks and sees Lin).

Gifs from @thepancakelady

Now this is the point where we remember that most of this episode has been spent back home, where everyone around Win kept seeing and referring to him as Lin. Even Korn did it to not…literally out Win. And then they leave, Korn says “I don’t love Lin any more than you” and Win convinces himself that Korn is in love with Lin. Because he just spent all this time being around people that did not affirm his identity.

Which leads to the scene that started it all.

Here we are with Win repeating over and over and over again “You are Lin. You’re not Win. You’re Lin. You’re not Win. You are Lin. You’re not Win. You are Lin. You’re not Win. You are Lin.”

Every example that he thinks about in his time with Korn on this road trip where Korn is caring for Win physically, Win replaces himself with the image of Lin’s body. THIS! SHOW! IS! TRANS!

Win (as Mix) runs to the ocean and has a massive screaming breakdown in the water. I don’t know about anyone else, but that sort of frustrated, heartbroken all-consuming rage is something that was very familiar to me when I came home and had my identity constantly undermined by my family.

“I don’t want to have good feelings for you anymore” \\ “Why not?’ \\ “I don’t want to be soft again.”There is something to be said here about toxic masculinity classifying softness as a negative thing and Win grappling with feeling perceived as feminine leading up to this. But more likely, based on the context of the previous scene, Win is struggling with the idea that Korn’s connection is to Lin’s body and not to Win’s soul.

Episode 7

We see Jan at the wheel when it was just Win and Korn in the car in order to signify that Win is dealing with less developed upper body strength, this is one of the only times we see Jan on screen when it is just Korn and Win alone, but it quickly cuts back to Mix. We see Jan in public again. We see Mix when Korn starts massaging Win’s shoulders. In fact, every point of physical care and intimacy that we see between Win and Korn, Mix is the one on screen. When we did see Jan on screen with Korn in the flashbacks Win has in Episode 6, he is literally shifting his own mental image of the body he is in. But Korn only ever sees Mix. But Win is so caught up in the body he is in that he routinely fails to account for all the moments of emotional intimacy and care that Korn gives him throughout the journey.

We see Jan when Win starts eating, and then Mix when Korn ties up his hair.

Korn switches to sleeping on the floor instead of the bed at this point, despite the fact they have shared a bed multiple times by this point. The end credit scene shows Korn holding Win’s hand from the floor, so the most likely interpretation is that Korn is deeper in his feelings and isn’t sure he can bear sleeping next to Win.

We see Jan around others.

Episode 8

Win dreams of Lin. This is one in a number of examples of dissociation as a form of dysphoria.

Win and Korn confess their love for eachother and share a brief kiss. Win very quickly realizes the body that he is in, and overthinks how Korn must be viewing him. Win breaks the kiss, and stays far away from Korn the rest of the evening.

Lin wakes up in Win’s body. Non sees Mix at first, realizes that it’s Lin and then sees Jan. In previous scenes with just Non and Win, Jan is on screen (unless Korn is also present in which case Mix is there). Non is in love with Lin and therefore sees Lin’s body when he’s interacting with Win.

We see Mix when their Mom comes in.

When Win has the flashbacks to everything, he keeps forgetting about the stuff that Korn did to make him smile, the emotional connections, he only remembers the times that Korn took care of his body, but this time he sees himself instead of Lin.

Non sees Mix in Lin’s body and Jan in Mix’s body so he’s also internalized the consciousness of the person.

Something about the solidarity between Win and Lin when they first meet again, seeing each other in their respective bodies in a way many around them don’t. That’s trans friendship, baby!

When their bodies are switched back, Korn immediately makes eye contact with Win because he’s always always seen Win. Korn has been traveling with Lin’s body this whole time, but the person he has been through all of this with is Win. When Win is finally in the body that is his, Korn needs no time at all to adjust.

Episode 9

Swapping the bodies back in the hospital feels very medical, with the monk asking everyone to leave the room while he performs the body reassignment, and then walking calmly out to Korn and Non waiting in the chairs asking how the procedure went.

Episode 10

“How could I not know my own children?” “More a generally queer thing than specifically trans, but a parent (anyone) so entrenched in their idea of you that they remain oblivious to what seem like obvious discrepancies to others. Continuing to act under that assumption until you are forced to confront their misperception and correct it because you can't continue the lie anymore.” -smytl.

Wardrobe Choice

Win’s wardrobe throughout the show consists entirely of simple, utilitarian clothes that are loose and prioritize comfort over style. It follows the same stylistic choices consciously made by many transmasc individuals, namely selecting articles of clothing that obscure or draw attention away from certain features. Some of this may be attributed to Mix’s choice and comfort level in clothing (but this is a trans allegory so we’re analyzing the wardrobe with that lens). The choice in attire becomes more apparent when Jan is on screen as Win, and we see Win as Jan choose to continue to wear Win’s clothing as what is most comfortable for him.

Those styles are:

Loose pants, often cut to have added structure or with side pockets along the hip or thigh, which break up any curve there in a silhouette.

Multiple layers of t-shirt and jacket or overshirt when out in public, usually left open in the front. The parallel vertical lines of the placket draw the eye up to the collar and away from the chest. The straight lines also minimize the appearance of any curves beneath, and make the torso seem boxier.

Jackets with multiple patches or patterns, or plaid flannel shirts, which again visually distract to break up body lines. The only time we see Win without these added layers is when he is alone with Korn, in a hotel room where he cannot be seen by passers by, where his focus is on relief from period pain. His decision to wear a simple t-shirt without the added layers shows his comfort level with Korn is higher than anyone else, to take off the layers of protection and concealment.

And the most prominent wardrobe choice, a sling bag carried cross-body in front, which covers and draws focus away from the chest beneath. This can also be a form of emotional armor or comfort item to hold onto for reassurance under stress, and is indeed gripped as such in moments of tension throughout the show. The bag is only used during the body swap and when out in public.

Final Thoughts

Notably, we didn’t notice a lot of gendered language being used until Win and Lin are back in their respective bodies. And in the rare instances of gendered language being used during the body swap (like in Episode 4) the pronouns are messed up. Win (played by Jan in this moment) says “krub” initially and then changes it to “kha” when he remembers that he’s in a woman’s body.

Something else that truly makes us capable of reading it as trans, rather than a typical body swap, is that for the majority of the show, only one body has been swapped. Lin’s soul is stuck in limbo for most of the show, leaving Win’s body an empty, waiting vessel. Jan is utilized in this show mostly as a reminder to the viewers that the outside world is seeing Korn with Lin when they are on their journey. Do we think the trans allegory is intentional? Honestly, no. But watching the show with that lens in mind, seeing the body swap as an allegory for transness does greatly improve the story. It still falters at the end, the plot is not revolutionary. But it holds a lot more meaning, has a lot more weight if you see the barrier to Win and Korn actually getting together as Win being unable to believe that Korn is actually seeing Win this whole time. Win is convinced Korn sees him as Lin and would not actually love him as a man. And it makes Korn’s love and care for Win more powerful if you read the story as trans and know Korn has seen Win, as a man, the entire time, despite him being in a female body.

(shout out to @so-much-yet-to-learn and @lurkingshan for their contributions during the watch party and in writing this post, this was a group effort)

#trans allegory in cupid's last wish #clw #cupid's last wish #mix sahaphap #earth pirapat #earthmix #cupids last wish #wka long post

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moongothic · 6 months

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Many people have pointed out (in relation to Crocodad) how in Japanese the etymology of the word "wani" (crocodile) is a bit complicated to say the least and in mythology could mean a variety of things, including a shark, sea monster or a dragon

Which, of course, is quite an interesting coincidence. Crocodile does often get referred to as "wani" not just by Luffy but some other characters, and so it would be just a little funny if both of Luffy's dads were sorta kinda called dragons

There's also people pointing out how Zoro's mother was called "Tera", similar to terra (earth) and Sanji's mother was named Sora (sky). So if Luffy's birthing parent was named after a water-dwelling creature, well, it'd be cute and round out the monster trio's birthing parents in a funny way, since we'd have earth, sky and the sea

But what really is fucking me up about the whole wani-thing is the Myth of Toyotama-hime

So the TL:DR; of the myth is

The pregnant princess Toyotama came from the Ryuuguu Castle deep in the oceans onto land to give birth to her child, telling her husband that when she would give birth, she would revert back into her true form, requesting him to not look at her while she gave birth. But her husband could not keep that promise, so he peeked in on his wife, only to witness a giant wani giving birth. The sight of this horrified the husband so much he fled, while Toyotama princess was so hurt by what had happened that she returned to the sea, abandoning her child.

Indeed, this myth bringing up wani pregnancy is just. An interesting coincidence for Crocodad speculation

Of course, we know Oda borrows from mythology (fucking, Fishman Island's castle is literally the Ryuuguu Castle), so if Crocodad Real, it's genuinely plausible Oda could('ve) take(n) inspiration from that very myth

Thing about it is that though...

Like, if we're assuming Crocodile never fully realized he was trans until he got pregnant, then him transitioning either immidiately or as soon as he could after giving birth would make sense. Dude seeks out Iva-chan and gets the t-juice*, so on and so forth, but my question is like, would that have been before or after delivering the baby to Dragon (so he could then pass it onto Garp)

*(Or hell, maybe Iva-chan was there helping deliver the baby, helping Crocodile crack his own egg etc, maybe the secret Iva-chan is holding over Crocoboy's head isn't that they knew Crocodile is trans and could out them, but knowing Crocodile gave birth to god know whose child)

Because like

How did Dragon find out about his partner transitioning?

Did pre-T Crocodile tell him he was transitioning while handing over the baby? Or did he just leave without an explanation and allowed Dragon to just Take In The Change after it had happened whenever they saw each other again (if they ever did, for all we know he could've just walked away without talking to Dragon again and Dragon just found out either from Iva-chan directly or from seeing him on the news)

Or did Crocodile transition first and then deliver the baby to Dragon without any warning, again, just giving Dragon one hell pf a surprise

In any scenario, how did that even go down?

And we have to ask the sad question of... is Dragon a Bisexual King or not? And would Crocodile have been... afraid of Dragon's reaction? (This would've been a younger Crocodile mind you, who would literally have been just coming out of his shell, and that shit's scary man)

Because if Toyotama Princess is any indicator, this wani's relationship did not end well after her truth was revealed

Like, let's say Crocodile transitioned first and then showed up without warning as a man to Dragon to hand over the baby. Thing is, while we know VERY LITTLE about Dragon still, I can't imagine him being like violently transphobic or even lashing out at his partner when he'd come out. But I could imagine him being so shocked he'd be left utterly speechless.

And I'm not entirely sure which would be worse; Dragon outright but "kindly" telling Crocodile he's not into men and breaking the poor bastard's heart, or Bi!Dragon being too shocked to say anything, letting Crocodile to just jump to conclusions based on his reaction (and maybe then causing Dragon to jump into further conclusions (that Crocodile must actually be into women)), unintentionally causing a divorce out of sheer misunderstanding and literal lack of communication

And the sad part is, considdering Dragon is a very secretive man, who according to the Crocodad Theory can't even have told his partner his full name mind you... The miscommunication seems very plausible to me?? Does it not?

Or, maybe Crocodile delivered the baby to Dragon pre-T and told him he's going to Iva-chan without further explanation, jumping into conclusions, afraid to hear what Dragon would say. So he just leaves without explaining before Dragon gets to say a word. And Dragon just accepts it. Assuming he's the one getting dumped.

Either way, whatever might've happened can't have been good, can it

Also, considdering Garp is a fucking idiot (affectionate), and Luffy clearly inherited The Stupid from his grandfather, I would not be surprised if Dragon was also actually a bit of a himbo underneath that serious face he puts on (either that or Crocodile kept on smoking while pregnant)

Which could also turn what would otherwise be a tragic miscommunication into an absolute comedy if Crocodile and Dragon ever met again and the two realized that they're both idiots who jumped into conclusions and ruined their marriage by refusing to talk about their fucking feelings to each other. This is an absolute trainwreck of a family

But considdering the things Crocodile has done by this point*, would it ever even be possible for the two to reconcile?? Because, althought Dragon is pro-overthrowing corrupt governments especially if they're affiliated with the World Government, from what I can tell, he's still against unnececary violence (Vegapunk even comments that Dragon "hates war" in a flashback) and needless loss of life. And Crocodile caused just that.

*And I don't even mean the failed attempt at taking over Alabasta, I mean the drought Crocodile caused that caused countless people to starve to death and then caused the civil war which had already taken lives and permanently disabled people BEFORE the Strawhats ever even get to Alabasta. Like Crocodile's bomb may have been a dud but he still caused people to die for no reason, and I can't imagine Dragon being fine with that. But then again, Robin and other Baroque Works members also contributed to the loss of life and their sins have been neatly swept under the rug so IDK

And like. We don't know if Crocodile moonlighted as a Revolutionary for like 10+ years after Luffy was born and slowly went out of contact or if he just left immidiately. But theoretically, the two might not have even seen each other in like almost 20 years

That'd be a long time to carry a broken heart

How the fuck would you even heal from that

Also like

Crocodile did seem a little suicidal at Impel Down if I'm being honest

Like.

He had a dream of becoming Pirate King. But he lost to Whitebeard, and his dreams were ruined.

Dude had a master plan to take over a country that took him almost a decade to pull off, only for it to get wrecked in the final hour by a literal child.

His useless underlings then come and try to break him out of prison

And he chooses to stay

When we finally see his face for the first time in Impel Down... His mouth might be forming a smile, but those eyes aren't

And he even says it himself

"I didn't think there'd be anything for me to do if I were free"

Is it not like he has given up on life entirely..?

And sure, he does ask to be let out so he can get revenge on Whitebeard, but was it out of a genuine belief he could actually take down the old man or just a slightly more fun way to die than rotting away in prison for the next few decades?

You know the saying, "to be loved is to be changed"

Frankly, the same goes for the reverse. Being unloved, or believing yourself to be unloveable will change you. For the worse

#OP Meta #Crocodad #Sir Crocodile #I know I keep on saying I don't believe in Crocodad anymore and here I am back on my bullshit again #This asshole is the only thing keeping me from falling apart rn just please let me have this #I'm just so fucking intriqued by the storytelling potential here #Of what the fuck happened #If it's real #The tragedy could be absolutely devastating #Or you could have an insane One Piece slapstick reunion #I am extremely fond of the idea of The Disaster Family mind you #Because they could be so fucking funny (especially if you included Garp) (Holy shit can you fucking IMAGINE)#Like yes emotional reunion between Crocodile and Luffy yes sure #But please considder #Luffy somehow finding out and then demanding for an explanation from An Extremely Reluctant Crocodile #Who can't really do much because he doesn't have it in him to hurt his baby boy but also The Baby Boy is an unstoppable MENACE #The slapstick would be hysterical #Also I am pro-Bullying Crocodile #Moon posting #On a slightly less downer of a note to end on #While Crocodile might've given up on life before Marineford he certainly found a reason to live during/after Marineford #This was supposed to be a short post how did it turn into borderline fanfic

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affectionatenouns · 4 months

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Today marks 3 years since I came out to my parents. Incidentally, I also got a call from my mom today, asking how I'm doing since we haven't spoken since Christmas. When I went to visit over Christmas, one of the last conversations we had involved her misgendering me. When I called her out on it and asked her to correct, she said, "Oh, sorry." and continued her side of the conversation. At the end of our time together, she said she loved me.

When I first came out three years ago, she told me she didn't like my name and asked if I would choose something different because it reminded her of someone she didn't like. She told me it would probably take a while for her to get used to it. She told me it would be hard for her to use my pronouns since singular they didn't click with her. She fully ignored when I said I also use she/her. But at the end of the whole ordeal, she said she loved me.

A year after I came out, I was a few months away from getting married. I issued my parents an ultimatum: start getting it right, or you will not be welcome there. My mom cried, telling me that it was so hard on her and that she was trying really hard. Misgendering me the entire time. My dad got mad at me for making my mother cry. He told me not to make such a big deal over it. I apologized to my mom, tried to explain why and how much it hurt when she got it wrong, and rescinded my ultimatum. She said she loved me and that it was going to be okay.

Between then and now, things have slightly improved. I gave her some reading on supporting trans relatives. She has a small trans pride flag in her garden. She doesn't get my name wrong anymore. She still misgenders me to everyone she talks to. Sometimes, she corrects herself if I'm there in person. Every time, she tells me she loves me.

Back to today, we're on the phone, talking about something mundane, and I hear my dad in the background asking a question about me. He and my mom misgender me seven individual times across 4 exchanged sentences. I don't remember the rest of the call. All I could think about was that tiny exchange. Repeating over and over and over, drowning out whatever it was she was trying to talk to me about. At the end of the call, she said she loved me.

No one else in my life misgenders me, really. I have a couple of friends who slip up every now and then, but stop, correct themselves, apologize, and move on. I chalked that up to the fact that I rarely saw them in person anymore. When I visited over Christmas, we all got together to hang out, we went out for dinner, we talked for most of the day, and no one got it wrong once. No one there said it out loud, but I could feel that they actually loved me.

#trans #transgender #nonbinary #transfem #enby #vent post #vent

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queerpossumtrenchcoat · 1 month

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Let's talk gender expression, awful haircuts and realisation of who I am! I came out as gender fluid approximately around the age of the third picture above- and I got an awful haircut to match it, but at the time I felt like THE gender vibe; I was 13, or so, and didn't realise I looked like I'd had a fistfight with a weed whacker. It was a stepping stone however, for me to discover who I was; after this time I started to experiment with my look, name and pronouns, leaning more towards he/they and slowly changing my name from Jaimee to Jai and or James- small steps, I know, but crucial ones in me realising my dead name no longer really fit me as a person. James was a family name after all. Finding myself wasn't always glamorous, the look wasn't always particularly handsome or pretty, it was colour the tips of my hair with sharpie markers and conditioner until my hair had a distinctly petrol-and-macadamia type stench or cutting it with a cheap, disposable razor which ended up giving me hair reminiscent of the early 2000s emo scene (which I totally was, even if I only saw 6 years of the 'early 2000s!'). I would hack off chunks, flatten my chest with cheap Duct Tape and wear boxers I stole from my dad in order to feel some semblance of who I was, using makeup to poorly build cheek bones and eyebrows so I could look like my hero at the time, Brendon Urie (God, that aged poorly..) In time I got creative, I learned that my parents wouldn't let me get a 'real boy's haircut' so I'd have to improvise; here came the next 6 months of beanie hats and ponytails pulled over to create a 'boy fringe' which, in retrospect, was giving more Justin Beiber than Emo Quartet, but that all chained when I turned 16 and... Got to dye my hair for the first time!! It was the greatest experience for my gender to date!! My mother bought me midnight blue hairdye for my 16th birthday and helped me dye it; I looked in the mirror at my fairly short ish, dark blue hair and I saw it. I saw him, stood staring back at me with tears in his eyes. I saw ME. I told my girlfriend, at the time anyway, straight away and she accepted me with open arms- I think she was expecting the genderfluid-to-trans masc timeline, which funnily enough he followed in 2022 during lockdown. Lockdown dug its claws into my gender and expression quite deeply; while at home with my mother, father and two very young siblings I came to experiment with my gender a lot more, dressing in more masculine clothes and cutting my hair off for 'sake of ease', or that's what I told my parents anyway- they believed it too, surprisingly. I went through college having to somewhat pretend I was just a feminine man, I was exhausted and on the brink of suicide, as most people my age at the time were, and went by Eden because it seemed more palatable to the others around me- didnt stop me being picked on, but it wasn't by students... It was my own teacher! Shout out to Miss Dunsby! Then I dropped out of college. I picked up a shitty little cafe job as a barista and linecook, cooking meals, making coffees, pretending I gave half a shit about a joke I'd heard over and over again; I dyed my hair neon green and used my pay checks to get it cut SHORT short for the first time- I looked hella fine, in my opinion, but I was also starting to realise something.. Maybe I had been right the first time, because I didn't feel like a man all the time. Back to the drawing board... One shaved head and a job at a gay bar later, I started using the art of drag, performing as a female persona, to realise that I was Masc-Agender, like a boyish presenting genderless person. Easy enough, I suppose. I started wearing makeup, being myself and wearing whatever I damn pleased, uncaring of social cues and rules, I was me. I was happy. I AM happy. If there is anything you can take away from this, once you find the part of yourself you can express your feelings, thoughts and emotions with, go wild!! I did and it made realising my truth so much easier!

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redlegumes · 5 months

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Dec 10th: Never Forgot My First Kiss

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles

Summary: Reminiscing on first kisses after another first between Steve, Eddie, and their bedsheets

For the smut before this ficlet, check out my submission for today's Steddiemas prompt here

(づ￣ ³￣)づ

“It couldn't have been more awkward.”

“What? No. I thought my seven minutes in heaven with Elsie May Munson was one for the record books.”

“Maybe. The page on firsts and failures,” Eddie scoffed.

Steve rolled his eyes. “You were the one who couldn't relax. The second that bottle spun to you you sat up as stiff as a board.”

“I was still in shock that I'd been invited to Alexis's birthday at all! Lil ‘ol trailer trash me.”

“No one thought of you like that.” Steve huffed and brought Eddie in closer to his chest. It was warm under the covers with him. Safe. “You were just really quiet. A little timid.”

“Hah, yeah. Jeez. Blossomed right out of that.”

MATURE Continues after the cut

“Big time.” Steve blushed and twisted one of Eddie’s curls, a small smile on his lips. “If it makes it better for your ‘origin story,’ I'm pretty sure Alexis's mom invited everyone in the 5th grade. So it doesn’t necessarily prove she thought about your eleven year old reputation.”

“Oh thanks,” Eddie replied, sticking his tongue out.

“Anything for you babe.”

Eddie considered letting it drop, but teasing Steve was one of his favorite pastimes. “Still doesn't explain your fish lips in that closet. 7 minutes of mediocrity at best.”

“Hey! It was my first kiss.”

“Mine too!”

Eddie looked into Steve’s smiling eyes as their fake affronted expressions shifted into laughter at one another.

When the laughter eased, Steve traced Eddie’s collarbone with his finger tip. His voice was soft and low. “Y'know, I always knew. When Elsie moved back with her dad and then two years later her 'cousin,' Eddie, came to live permanently with his uncle.”

“Here I thought I had everyone fooled,” Eddie said, shifting lightly. It didn’t make him too uncomfortable to talk about the little person he’d been, at least not with Steve. “Loud, obnoxious Eddie? Literally everything Elsie wasn't. She was always looking for permission, whereas I ask for forgiveness.”

Steve glanced away. “I liked both.” Eddie raised an eyebrow and poked Steve in the cheek till he continued. Steve sighed, “Elsie always had her head in a book. The covers looked so exciting, but you know me and reading.” Eddie gave a small nod. “And that pretty, curly, dark hair always pushed back from her face.”

“Jesus Christ, I almost forgot the headbands.” Eddie chuckled and shook his head.

Steve’s hand wandered up to Eddie’s chin, his fingers rested along Eddie’s jaw. Steve’s gaze had grown heavy. “Never forgot my first kiss Eddie. Or that little scar right under your chin, or the shade of brown your eyes are. Just like chocolate.”

Eddie squirmed a little under the weight of Steve’s affection. Sometimes it was hard to be under that spotlight, even if it was just the two of them, holed up in Steve’s bedroom. “What took you so long to come after me then?”

Steve’s lips twisted a bit. “I was under the impression you didn't want to be found. Especially by me.”

“Yeah, I guess that's true.” Eddie's hand wandered over Steve's skin, still mostly under the covers, protected from the much chillier air around them. “Glad we cleared that up. Are you um… are you glad my first with a guy was you?”

Steve snorted. “I could say the same damn thing.”

“You know what I mean,” Eddie let his hand wander down and brushed the tip of Steve's cock. He adored the flash of surprise and want it created on Steve’s face.

Steve brought Eddie’s mischievous hand over his heart. “First kiss I'll treasure always. But first fucks?” He shrugged. “That can get a little slut shame-y, I guess?”

“Oh! Here's where that Harrington charm runs out,” Eddie laughed. He quickly turned his smile to a pout, batting his eyelashes. “Not the virginity thing or whatever it's supposed to mean, bases or notches. What I really meant to say was this first for ‘us.’ Like this, are you…” Eddie paused; he didn't feel like asking for reassurance, but it was what he wanted to hear. Luckily, that seemed to click for Steve.

“Eds!” Steve's eyes widened, and he ran a hand through Eddie's hair. “Yes, gorgeous. This was everything I… Eddie I already want you just, all the damn time. This was so good, you're fucking perfect.”

“Yeah?” Eddie smiled shyly. “Perfect? I thought I was the devil.”

“You are a devil.” Steve's face scrunched up with concern. “I thought you liked when I, wait. Are you messing with me?”

“No.” Their legs slotted together. Eddie pressed his cock against Steve's thigh, already wet. “Maybe a little.”

Steve snaked one arm around Eddie’s waist, holding him in place and began to tickle Eddie. He brushed the light stubble on his chin against Eddie's chest as Eddie struggled to get his hands to tickle Steve’s stomach. They eventually stopped for breath, and Steve relaxed into Eddie’s hold this time, nuzzling along Eddie's neck. “What if I said I wanted you to be my last first,” he whispered. It sounded like a secret. As if Eddie didn't feel the exact same way.

2023 RedLegumes Steddiemas 1 2 3 4 5 6 10 SteddieHolidayDrabbles 1 2 3 4 6 8 9 10

And...

they're not even dating!

JUST KIDDING

One hundred percent, Eddie's been parading around his sweetheart, acting like he converted Steve to every dark side for months.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddieholidaydrabbles #first kiss #first time #i write things #ftm eddie munson #trans #trans masc eddie munson #post smut #but still a lil smutty #7 minutes in heaven

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 6 months

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AITA for not letting my parents have a say in my name and for still being mad at them years later?

I (19m) am a trans man who came out to my parents at around age 14 with my chosen name already picked out and everything. I chose a name that started with the same first letter as my deadname even though I didn't really care about that because I had heard that some parents got upset if you disrespected the name they had chosen for you at birth.

Truthfully, my coming out was a bit awkward because I couldn't bring myself to tell them in person. They found out when I wrote my new name on a poster board for a science project I had to present to all of the parents, but after all of the standard questions about whether I was sure and whether I was sure I was sure it seemed like they were accepting of my gender. After the fact though, they kept calling me my deadname (which I was mostly chill with dealing with I could understand needing an adjustment period) and when they weren't calling me by my deadname, they were calling me Colin, aka not the name I had chosen.

Turns out, that's what I would've been called if I had been birthed with a Y chromosome because my dad wanted to pay respects to my grandmother who people keep comparing me to (another thing I don't really like but whatever) and that's close to her name. Sucks to be my parents though because no offense to people named Colin but that's one of the worst names I can think of so I wasn't having it.

For months my parents continued to refuse to acknowledge my chosen name and would either call me by my deadname or call me Colin in an attempt to get me to start answering to it like some kind of pet. After crying in front of them multiple times and refusing to talk to them, my parents finally gave in and while they still frequently deadnamed me they let me use the name I chose and stopped shoving Colin down my throat.

Even after their concession though, I know they've never fully accepted me and they cut corners so they can be "pg" while still disrespecting me. It's been years but my mother still brags to me about how she's so good at not misgendering me because she only uses they/them or refuses pronouns altogether when talking about me. (which is really crazy because you'd think she'd be able to respect my friends with they/them pronouns but no such luck)

Recently, I had a conversation with my father about why I had chosen the name I did and he said he wanted to have more input on the name. I replied that what they did was really hurtful and he said that we were all going through changes which I replied to by simply saying "Wonderful" and leaving because I had nothing constructive to say and imo I think I should get an apology before I'm expected to be more than passive aggressive. My parents say that I'm "keeping grudges" and that I "never give them any grace" and they think now that they've let me get top surgery I should just let it go.

TLDR; AITA for not wanting to be named Colin and still being pissed at my parents for trying to force it even though it's years later?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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chronicallycouchbound · 5 months

Text

Winter Solstice Reflections / Homeless Persons Memorial Day

I was 16 when I moved from the Pacific Northwest to New England. I had recently come out as trans, and I was hoping the move would be a fresh start. But the physical abuse I had already been facing at home escalated.

It was two days after Christmas when I was told to leave and never come back, so I packed what little belongings I had into a bag as quickly as I could and rushed out the door. I didn’t have food or a plan or anywhere to stay.

It’s my luck that the first blizzard I ever experienced was on my first night of homelessness here. I remember the cold night air on my freshly bruised skin and it felt nice. It felt like freedom. As I crossed the bridge from one town to the next, the snowflakes were still small and gently falling.

In exactly one week, it will mark 8 years since that first night in the cold. It wasn’t my first or last time being homeless, but it was the longest time, and I didn’t know many people, let alone people I could live with.

Most often, I stayed in the middle of nowhere. I slept on floors, in cars, on benches, under awnings, in abandoned buildings; and anywhere I could put my backpack down as a pillow and throw my jacket over me as a blanket. The cold no longer felt comforting– it was a threat to my existence. I prayed every time I closed my eyes to not freeze to death.

I didn’t have proper clothes— Chuck Taylors which had too many holes to count, basketball shorts worn under my pants that were two sizes too big for me, well-loved band tees, and a jacket that wasn’t even close to waterproof. I felt cold in my bones.

On nights I had nowhere else, I walked around all night until McDonald’s or Dunkin opened up. I remember counting steps to focus on anything but the stinging of cold. I would go into the bathroom and run my hands under the faucet until they turned from pale blue to bright red. My hands burned when they finally thawed out. Eventually, the blue became just another thing to carry with me, like my backpack and the weight of homelessness.

For a few months, I spent nights all over the county, and then, after finally getting permission from my parents to access it, stayed at the youth shelter for three years. On my first night at the shelter, I arrived late– nearly midnight. I was afraid to go in. But, they set me up a bed anyway.

Soon after I laid down, a guy a few years older than me came in from work. His bed was right next to mine. He leaned over and whispered to me in the darkness that if I needed anything, just to let him know. His name was Peter.

That was the year I met my street mom who told me I reminded her of her younger self. Her name was Sarah. I couch-surfed with Abby, who always snuck me extra pizza from her work so I wouldn’t go hungry.

Living at the shelter I met Ryan, who made us laugh as if it kept us warm. And Ariah gave anyone anything they needed if she had it. I miss Peter, and Sarah, and Abby, and Ryan, and Ariah, and all the many other friends I’ve lost.

My friends were people who stood up for me, who gave me the clothes off their backs, food off their plates, and cared for me better than family. We all struggled together and never had to explain ourselves. We were welcome just as we were.

It’s hard for me to exist in this town sometimes. I walk around and can see all the places where I nearly died, where someone else died, or where I slept at night. I’ve lost count of all the people I’ve lost over the years. I have fond memories of rooms and cars filled with people smiling and telling jokes, and then I remember that I’m the only one still alive out of all of us.

People tell me I should feel lucky to have survived, congratulating me. Acting like I should be proud to "overcome" while the system still hurts us all. As my friends– my family, are still in the streets dying. I feel guilty to just be alive. Our whole community is grieving all the time.

Tonight, as the sun sets, the temperature will feel like 2 degrees. There will be 15 hours and 18 minutes of darkness. This is only the beginning of a long, cold winter. Our community members will still be in the cold. We are still dying for warmth.

We don’t need art installations, we don’t need benches with three bars, we don’t need air b&bs. We need fewer barriers and more supports. We need safe, stable, reliable, and affordable housing. We’ve needed it for a long time. As my good friend Ariah always said, “Keep your coins, we want change”

(From my speech on 12/21/23 for National Homeless Persons Memorial Day)

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imaginemalereader · 2 years

Photo

Anonymous request: Imagine being Clint Barton’s trans son

Sometimes it was hard to have an Avenger for a dad. For once, that wasn’t actually the hardest part. Him being away a lot had actually made part of this easier. It gave you more time to plan and prepare.

You thought about a letter, an email, a text. Ultimately you decided against them all though. You wanted to tell him face to face. You still wrote out a lot of what you wanted to say but you didn’t want to be reading off a script when you talked to him either.

When he got back from the latest mission, he and Natasha came back to the house. It had been an easy one they said, by Avengers standards of course. Once you were sure that everyone was safe and still as mentally stable as they had been when they left, you asked to pull your dad aside for a minute.

“What’s going on kid?” He asked. He could tell you were nervous, you were fidgety and looked from him and then away and back several times.

“Dad there’s something I need to tell you. About me.”

“Are you okay? Has someone-” His mind raced to a hundred bad things that could be going on before you cut him off.

“I’m fine. I’m just, I’m just not who you always thought I was.”

Was it bad that his first thought was that you were secretly an Asgardian sent to Earth as a baby or something like that?

You read the confusion on his face and quickly continued speaking.

“Dad I’m transgender. I’m a boy. And I want you to call me [Y/N] and your son and a brother and-”

This time you were the one cut off as your dad pulled you into a hug. You wrapped your arms tightly around him and even though you were happy and relieved, you were fighting back tears.

“Son, daughter, anything else. it doesn’t matter buddy. I love you.”

“Thanks dad.” He could here that you were choked up and held you a little tighter.

“Should we go tell your Aunt Nat while she’s here, or do you want to wait?”

“We can tell her now.” You said.

Your dad let you drop the hug first and stepped back when you let him go.

“Are you okay?” He noticed your eyes were watery but he didn’t want to press you.

“Yeah, I’m good. Happy.”

He put a hand on your shoulder and guided you back out to the porch where Nat had gone to wait for the two of you so she wouldn’t accidentally overhear anything.

“Aunt Nat?”

“You both good?” She asked, picking up that both of you had been near tears moments ago.

“Yeah we’re good. Aunt Nat, I’m trans. Could you call me [Y/N]?”

Natasha smiled, then put on a fake frown.

“Clint you’re subtracting from my niece tally.”

Your dad smiled and you laughed.

“Sorry to disappoint.” You smiled.

“I guess I can live with it.” She sighed, winking at you.

With those two out of the way, telling the rest of the Avengers was easy. Your dad brought you to the compound and helped you tell everyone and educate them. Thor needed the most help with terminology but everyone was very supportive. Tony immediately had Jarvis update your records and pronouns in the system.

Everyone was lovely about it, truly.

But your dad was on a whole other level, rivaled possibly only by Natasha. Around the house, you got a Nerf gun to correct people if they misgendered or dead-named you. The idea caught on and soon all the Avengers found themselves shot with little darts if they got it wrong. Everyone became remarkably fast learners.

Your dad doesn’t do much press, not like Steve or Tony, but it makes you smile every time he talks proudly about his son.

He made arrows with trans colors on them that spew colored smoke and disorient a person. You helped him design them after all the gender reveal party fails you saw online.

He’s not so good at dealing with all the bureaucratic nonsense that is the American healthcare system, but it’s impressive what doors being an Avenger opens. If/when you decided you want to pursue medical transition, he’s very supportive. Hormones, surgery, he’s got your back through it all.

The first year after you came out, you asked him to take you to pride. You ended up getting a little more than you asked for.

It started out just the two of you. You walked around, saw the booths. Your dad was happy to see you happy. You got some merch, and your dad bought himself some stuff as well. He asked you questions, you guys talked to people. It was nice, and pretty low-key all things considered.

After some time wandering, you saw a collection of familiar faces approaching.

“I hope you don’t mind, I invited them to join us.” Them of course meant the rest of the Avengers, some of whom stuck out more than others. They all wore varying degrees of pride gear, from Natasha who wore a black shirt with an abstract design in trans colors, to Tony who had gone full rainbow.

The now large group of you walked through the festival together, with everyone talking and laughing. Some asked you questions about words or flags or memes that were unfamiliar. Thor had a lot of questions about how he had become a lesbian icon and what his duties entailed.

At the end of the day, you all went your separate ways.

“Was that good?” Your dad asked as he drove you both home.

“Yeah it was. Thank you for taking me, and for coming, and for inviting them. It was fun.”

“I don’t think I’ve actually said it to you yet, but I’m proud of you. Not just for this, because I know coming out and that is hard. But I’m proud of you. My son. I’m proud of the man you’re growing into.”

You smiled. You wished your dad could be around more, selfishly, but more than that, you were proud of what he did and who he was. You wanted to be like him in so many ways.

“Thanks dad. I love you.”

#clint barton imagine #avengers imagine #x male reader #x male!reader #male reader #male!reader #x trans reader #x trans!reader #x trans male reader #x son reader #x son!reader #son reader #clint barton x son!reader #clint barton x son reader #parent character #dad!clint #dad!character

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