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transgenderteensurvivalguide · 4 years

Note

What are some ways that I can appear nonbinary when I'm not out yet?

Lee says:

I think we got this an an off-anon and on-anon ask by accident?

There’s no real way to “appear nonbinary” because non-binary people can look like anything! Some are male-passing, some are female-passing, and some are androgenous, and there are AFAB and AMAB folks in each three of those categories.

I’m non-binary too, and I had originally wanted “confuse cis strangers on the street” androgyny, but it wasn’t exactly what I ended up getting as I transitioned.

I had wanted people to not gender me at all or automatically use gender neutral terms for me without me having to come out for every interaction, but instead I ended up getting gendered as male 50% of the time and gendered as female 50% of the time.

It’s really hard to pass as non-binary- I’ve found that strangers who can’t tell what gender you are sometimes refer to you with (maybe randomly chosen) gendered pronouns and gendered terms anyway because they’re stuck in a binary mindset and don’t know what else to do.

Or they become hostile, so you might find yourself getting shouted at when you enter the women’s locker room, and if you go to the men’s locker room they might tell you to leave too.

It’s therefore almost impossible to consistently pass as non-binary, whether or not you’re out, because you can’t pass as something that people aren’t even aware exists.

I didn’t really like that- while being gendered as female and male in equal parts might be as close to androgyny as I could get, I was dysphoric when people saw me as a girl. Some people’s ideal presentation is being able to switch between passing as male or female, but it just wasn’t right for me.

In the end, I came out to everyone as nonbinary when I was 15, and now I’m gendered correctly by all my friends and coworkers and classmates, and after a few years, by most of my family too.

Now I’m almost 21, and I’m on T, I’ve had top surgery and a hysterectomy, and I tend to present myself in a masculine way because I’d rather strangers gender me as male than as female.

I still identify as nonbinary and I’m out as non-binary in all areas of my life, but I feel like “choosing a side” to present on is a choice I’ve had to make myself or strangers would choose it for me, and being misgendered as female feels wrong and hurts me more than being gendered as male, which feels neutral.

I’ve accepted that being correctly gendered by those close to me is going to be the closest I get to appearing non-binary, even though in an ideal world I’d be able to have people automatically use gender neutral terms for me and pass as non-binary.

But I’m a pessimistic sort, and everyone is different, so maybe you’ll find a way to appear non-binary without coming out! I have met some people who are wonderfully androgynous, and I really don’t mean to be discouraging here when I share my personal experience.

Androgyny Tips

Mix and Match Androgynous Swimwear For People Of Any Gender

Practical Androgyny

Formal Tips for Nonbinary Cuties

Activewear for the androgyne aesthetic

What should I wear to prom?

9 Plus Size Cuties Share Tips For Androgynous Style

Androgyny for AMAB folx

If you’re AMAB, you should try some of the stuff in the Transfeminine resources! People do tend to find that it’s more androgynous to balance the feminine with masculine. So amab people trying to be androgynous might move toward the feminine side to counter any masculine secondary sex characteristics you might have and try growing out your hair, shaving your face, wearing feminine clothes, painting your nails, etc.

Tucking

Chest area

Voice

Broad shoulders tips

Hair removal

Feminine walk

Curves

Waist training

Growing out your hair

Clothing

Makeup

Passing

If you’re AFAB, try the stuff in our Transmasculine resources! That’s because if you have a feminine secondary sex characteristics in your body/voice/face, you’ll want a masculine haircut and clothing and probably binding or wearing a sports bra will help too, because people tend to look at a chest and instantly think “female” so that’s something that needs to be smushed down a lil.

Binding FAQ

Masculine clothing

Facial hair

Masculine makeup

Getting short hair / Masculine long hair

If you can’t start T

Lowering your voice

Packing and standing to pee

Passing as male

Not shaving legs

Swimming

And some people may choose low-dose hormones to get to a more neutral looking place! This isn’t something you’re likely doing right now since you haven’t gotten to the coming out part of your transition and people eventually tend to notice if you’re on hormones, but I’ll mention it anyway.

Non-binary medical transition & hormones

Example language to use in letter

5 myths about non-binary transition

Transitioning While Nonbinary

Lower surgery options: nullification or both-ification (Read third mod answer)

Can I get a penis but keep my vagina?

Non-binary voice

But again, a common misconception is gender neutral = non-binary = androgynous , but there’s no one way to be non-binary, and no particular way that non-binary people have to present.

Some non-binary people look like men, some look like women, and some look androgynous, and there’s plenty of nb folk who are somewhere in between. Being non-binary is about what you feel your gender identity is, not what your gender expression is.

The genderbread person

Separating Out Gender Identity from Gender Expression

What is gender expression?

10 myths about nonbinary people that it’s time to unlearn

What Does It Mean to Identify as Nonbinary?

Too Queer for Your Binary: Everything You Need to Know and More About Non-Binary Identities

Genderqueer/Nonbinary 101

So the whole concept of “appearing non-binary” is based on the stereotype that there’s a particular way that nb people have to look, which is invalidating to all the non-binary people who don’t look like that. But of course, trans men and women asking about looking male or looking female know the same thing- there’s no one way for men or for women to look, and saying men-only-look-like-this is a narrow and invalidating message to be giving out.

So we have to recognize that “passing” as your gender is entirely based on stereotypes, while also admitting that passing is something that affects our everyday lives and can affect our comfort, mental health, and safety, so there’s nothing wrong with wanting to pass. And that’s just a lil something I always have to say.

Followers, any tips on appearing nonbinary when you’re closeted?

#Lee says #nonbinary #androgynous #gender neutral #looking nonbinary #passing as nonbinary #genital m #penis m #vagina m #Anonymous #transgenderteensurvivalguide #trans #transgender

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celosiaa · 4 years

Text

the winter you know

Summary:

Jon finds Martin in the archives, early on a rainy Sunday.

Martin finds kindness and care in an unexpected place.

alright folx I'm back again with a oneshot this time!! this one is set in season 2, sometime after Jon finds out that Martin lied on his CV and starts to trust him again.

WARNINGS: injuries, brief description of violence

Jon's thoughts are formatted in italics.

I hope you enjoy!! <3

---

‘Course it would be raining.

Jon steps across the threshold of the Institute, leaning his cane against the window for a moment to fold his umbrella. It’s Sunday, and the quiet hangs heavy in the air. Not that the Institute is a particularly bustling place, but all the same, Jon finds himself missing the presence of familiar faces. Why he’s come here today is unclear to him. This happens more often than not these days—feeling as though he missed something, certain he needs to be at the Institute just to make sure, anxiety creeping steadily into compulsion.

Why am I here? What kind of miserable workaholic shows up to his archiving job on the weekends?

He sighs, shaking his head. Contrary to Martin’s belief, he had actually tried going to therapy, anything to rid himself of this miserable paranoia that has gradually taken over his life and ruined his friendships. It’s not that he had many to begin with, but…even Sasha seemed different now, and that hurts deeper than he could ever express.

Taking up his cane again, he wipes his feet on the mat briefly before riding the lift down, down, down into the archives.

Cold dread overtakes him as the lift door opens.

A light has been left on.

And he knows he did not leave it.

They’ve come for me they’ve come for me they’ve come for me

Jon is not equipped for a fight, and he knows it—the best he can do is stand in the dim light of the EXIT sign, flooding hot and red across his skin, gripping his cane with both hands, ready to strike. His breath quickens, blood pounding through his ears as he searches wildly about for whatever attacker may come—

But no one does.

Several minutes go by without sight or sound. At last, his injured leg begins to shake, protesting both the exertion and the lack of support, and he cautiously lowers his cane back to the ground.

You’re being absurd, Jon. You left the light on, or the custodians did.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he makes his way forward toward the source of the light, which streams from behind the door to the assistants’ workspace. He reaches out one arm with trepidation, swinging the door wide. To his surprise, someone has, in fact, joined him in the archives on this rainy Sunday—Martin, of all people. He is currently hunched over his desk, presumably reading something.

Jon is momentarily frozen, taken so completely aback by Martin’s presence that he feels anger beginning to rise in him. He takes one heated step forward, intending to let Martin know exactly how he feels about being startled, when a thought crosses his mind, stopping him in his tracks.

Is he living in the archives again? Has something happened?

Breathing for a moment, he rearranges his expression carefully before continuing forward. He clears his throat as he approaches Martin’s desk.

“Martin?”

At the sudden noise, Martin jumps bodily, head whipping around and hands coming upward in some gesture of defense. His panicked movements cause Jon to cry out in surprise, stepping immediately away from him as his hands gradually lower, one coming to rest on his chest.

“Jesus, Jon.”

“I-I’m so sorry, Martin, I should ha—”

He breaks off, eyes roaming over Martin’s body for a moment. He’s disheveled, more so than Jon has ever seen, trousers and jumper wrinkled in odd places. Where his forearms are exposed by clumsily rolled-up sleeves, Jon can see several bruises have formed—approximately hand-sized. On top of everything sits a nasty black eye, purpled and pulsing, forcing his left eye nearly shut by the swelling.

Alarm rings through Jon’s mind, and his eyes go wide.

“Are you…are you in trouble?” he asks, keeping his voice intentionally low.

Martin exhales sharply, eyebrows knitting together in frustration. As he stands, intending to walk away, he begins to sway—so intensely that Jon reaches out a hand to steady him as he tips forward against his desk.

“Martin? Are you alright?”

He breathes heavily for a few seconds, blinking rapidly, before lifting himself to his full height once more.

He towers over Jon.

Christ.

“Really, Jon? I’ve already explained a hundred times that I had nothing to do with Gertrude, and if you can’t trust me now, after everything, then I really don’t know what to say.”

At this, he begins to walk briskly past Jon, chin uplifted in determination to get out of this situation. As he passes, Jon reaches out, lightly grabbing at Martin’s sleeve, knowing that he dislikes unexpected touch.

Martin freezes, face turning a bit pink and not meeting Jon’s eyes. Jon keeps his voice low, steady, and grounding as he steps back into Martin’s eyeline.

“I just meant…that looks painful. Can I—will you please let me help?”

Dropping his gaze, chin to chest, Martin exhales a slow and shaky breath. Jon watches with rising concern as Martin swallows thickly, blinking away tears while examining Jon’s gentle hold on his sleeve, looking entirely overwhelmed and exhausted.

Something unnamed pulses and swells in Jon’s chest.

“Y-yeah, I…thanks,” Martin replies, voice nearly a whisper.

“Alright. Come here, then.”

He leads them to the break room, glancing over his shoulder ever so often, just to be sure that Martin has followed.

God, what on earth could have happened?

Though he manages to maintain a mostly-calm exterior—a rarity that he acknowledges with pride—his thoughts swirl rapidly—desperate to know what’s happened, who did this, how he can stop it from happening again. As they enter the break room, he pulls out a chair from the table, patting the back of it briefly and leaning his cane against the tabletop.

“Sit down,” he commands, voice still kept low even with his growing anxiety.

Martin obliges, dropping heavily into the seat, leaning back against it with a heavy sigh. Turning on his heel, Jon rummages hastily through the freezer, relieved to find a bag of frozen vegetables. He hands it to Martin, who mutters a “thanks” before gingerly pressing it against his injured eye, wincing against the cold shock of it.

Jon stares for a moment, worrying at his bottom lip.

He looks miserable.

Decision made, he turns back to the kitchenette and fills the kettle for tea. As it boils, Jon searches through the cabinets, finding such a wide variety of teas to be had that he is forced to ask Martin which he prefers.

“Martin, would you like—”

He stops, freezing in place as he turns around.

Tears are streaming down Martin’s face, his shoulders shaking in silent sobs.

Oh god.

Panicked, Jon glances wildly around the room for something, anything that might help. His eyes land on the roll of paper towels by the sink and he quickly tears some off, hastening to hand them over to Martin.

“S-sorry, tha-thank you,” he stammers between sobs, wiping at his eyes carefully.

Jon is rooted to the spot, eyes wide, feeling extremely out of his depth. His arms are locked in a sort of half-reaching position, unsure whether to give comfort or space. He is not left to wait for long, however, as Martin lowers the paper towels, giving a hollow laugh and a smile.

“God, that hurts. Should avoid doing that again,” he says as he reaches up to rub at his injured eye, before thinking better of it.

Jon does not laugh. The emptiness of Martin’s voice sends a shiver up his spine, disturbing him more than he’d like to admit. Biting again at his lip, he points to the bag.

“Put that back on,” he says softly as he turns back to the tea.

Face hidden now, Jon allows himself a moment to process what has happened.

You trust him. You decided that you do.

You trust Martin.

…does he trust me?

He resumes his task, realizing that he does not know how Martin takes his tea. Looking at the ceiling for a moment, he desperately tries to remember how his own tea looks when he delivers it to him—but for the life of him, no picture comes to mind.

Damn it all.

“Martin, d’you…do you take milk? In your tea?”

“Oh! Um, yeah—milk and a bit of sugar, thanks.”

The surprise evident in Martin’s voice upon being asked is enough to send ripples of guilt through Jon’s chest.

I’ve been…I’ve been so cruel to him, really.

He sighs heavily, allowing himself a moment of shame before fulfilling Martin’s request. Setting their mugs down on the table, he takes a seat in the adjacent chair, picking at the scabs on his hands.

“Thanks, Jon, really, this is…this is really nice.”

“It’s no trouble.”

They remain silent for a few moments, Martin taking a sip of his tea before replacing the frozen bag over his eye. Jon looks up then, not wanting to push, but…

I have to know.

“Do you…do you want to talk about it?” he asks, forcing his voice into a gentleness that does not come easily to him.

“Not really.”

The flatness of Martin’s tone throws him, but he clears his throat and presses on.

“Look, Martin, I have to admit…this worries me considerably.”

At this, Martin lets out a frustrated huff, setting his mug back down forcefully, and meeting Jon’s gaze with coldness.

“This was really all a ploy then? You still don’t trust me? Me, of all people?”

Jon leans back in surprise, lifting his hands in consolation.

“N-No! No, Martin, I just meant…I’m just worried about you. I’m worried for you, really.”

Martin visibly deflates at this, the burst of energy spent on his anger quickly giving way to exhaustion. Dropping his gaze, he stares into the steaming mug and adjusts his grip on the frozen bag. Jon is hit suddenly with the mad urge to cover Martin’s hand with his own, but shoves the thought down as forcefully as possible.

“Listen, you…you don’t have to tell me everything, but—can you at the very least tell me who did this?” he asks, tilting his head in an attempt to draw Martin’s gaze.

He does not look up, continuing to stare at his tea for a long while. Sensing that he is mulling it over, Jon turns his gaze back to his scarred hands, massaging them unconsciously.

Please trust me please trust me please trust me

At long last, Martin takes a deep, steadying breath before responding.

“It was my mum. She’s…she’s not well, it’s not her fault,” he says, voice thick, still staring into his tea.

Oh, Martin.

“Your mum? Did she…did she move back in with you?”

“No, I went to Devon to visit her. She finally let me see her—a-and—"

His voice wobbles and breaks, tears spilling over his cheeks once more. Dropping the bag, he claps a hand to his forehead, gasping as he tries desperately to choke back the sobs that are threatening to resurface at any moment.

Jon desperately wants to reach for him, to comfort him somehow.

“M-Martin, I—”

“God, I’m so sorry,” he bursts, wiping desperately at his face and sniffling.

“It…it’s alright,” he replies softly.

Martin’s arm is right there.

It’s right there.

Slowly, cautiously, Jon reaches out a hand, making sure that Martin sees his approach, and clasps it over his wrist ever so lightly. He monitors Martin’s reaction carefully, ready to take back his hand at the first sign of any discomfort. When, after a few moments of staring, the tension in his arm relaxes and tears begin to well up once more, Jon applies just a bit of pressure in what he hopes is a gesture of comfort.

“It’s alright,” he repeats in a whisper.

Martin’s eyes close as he tries to ground himself, inhaling a few shaky breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth before continuing.

“I visited her, and she actually let me see her this time, and I was so happy, Jon. I was so happy. But when I got to her room, she was just…angry. Angry that I was there, and angry that I hadn’t been there before. I just…you’re going to think badly of me, but…”

He sniffs wetly, still not meeting Jon’s eyes.

“I got upset, I’ll admit. Raised my voice a bit. And I know better, god, I know that I can’t do that, that she gets upset when I do that. But I did it anyway and…and she hit me. I had to call for the nurse, I couldn’t calm her, she just kept h-…a-and I might never see her again, and…and I’m sure the staff think I’m a horrible son.”

Martin’s breathing has become more rapid throughout his explanation, hitching as he finishes, hot tears spilling down his face once more.

Jon’s heart aches.

He begins slowly running his hand up and down the length of Martin’s forearm as he cries, a gentle reminder of his presence, of his care.

God knows he needs someone, Jon tells himself.

Might as well be me.

I’ve done enough harm.

Eventually, Martin’s breathing slows, and he swipes at his eyes painfully with a paper towel.

“Martin, I…I’m so sorry. That’s really terrible.”

Martin huffs out a wet laugh, meeting his eyes at last.

“It’s alright. Just one of those things, I guess. I’m alright, really, this…this helped. Thank you, Jon, seriously.”

Martin’s half-swollen gaze is so intense with sincerity that Jon can’t bear to look away.

Hazel eyes.

I never noticed.

That as-yet unnamed warmth pools in his stomach once again, rising up to his cheeks and ears.

“Don’t…don’t mention it,” he stammers awkwardly, dropping his gaze and removing his hand from Martin’s arm at last.

He can feel Martin’s eyes still on his face, desperately hoping that he won’t notice the blush painted there. If he does, he has the graciousness to say nothing, turning instead to take another paper towel from the roll, scrubbing at his dripping nose and wincing in the process.

“God, that really hurts,” he says, followed by a short laugh. “Really ought to stop blubbering and making it worse, eh?”

Once again, Jon cannot bring himself to laugh.

It’s not funny.

“Have you been to a doctor?” he asks, concern coloring his tone.

Martin looks back in surprise.

“What, for this? No no, it’s fine, it’s just a bruise. It’ll fade away.”

“What if you have a concussion?”

He laughs again. “I really don’t think it was that hard of a hit, Jon.”

“Seems it was hard enough to do some damage, anyway.”

Martin snaps his mouth shut, staring at Jon incredulously for a moment before turning away and sipping his tea, ending the conversation. Watching him for a moment, fingers drumming on the table, Jon decides that no, this conversation is not over.

“You looked dizzy earlier.”

Martin sighs into his mug. “Jon—”

“I’ll take you to a clinic. Please, Martin.”

Martin glares daggers at him, a bit scarier than usual given that he looks like he’s just come out of a fight. But Jon refuses to back down.

“Please. Just to check.”

He shakes his head, letting out a longsuffering sigh before throwing his hands in the air.

“Fine. If it’ll make you feel better.”

“O-Oh. Right.”

Jon can’t help but be shocked by Martin’s compliance. He grabs his cane from the table as he stands.

“Let’s go then.”

At this, Martin moves to stand himself, with what seems to be a bit of trepidation. As he reaches his full height, his face turns ashen, and he sways forward to brace against the table, blinking rapidly once again. Jon’s reaches out to steady him instinctively, cane clattering to the floor.

“Martin! Sit back down, sit—”

“No no, I’m alright, Jon. I’m alright. Just need a second,” he stammers out quickly, squeezing his eyes shut, head hanging toward his chest.

Not quite trusting this, Jon lets his hands hover nearby, watching as Martin takes several breaths from this position. After a few moments, he opens his eyes, seeing Jon’s cane lying on the ground, and bends slightly to pick it up. He hands it to Jon, face flushed in embarrassment.

“Sorry about that.”

“It—it’s alright. Thank you.”

Hazel eyes hazel eyes hazel eyes

Jon coughs briefly, willing himself to focus.

“Erm, there’s a clinic a few blocks over that should be open. Where’s your car? I’ll drive you there.”

“It’s just ‘round the corner from the entrance, not far,” Martin mutters, still looking ashamed that anyone should have to care for him this way.

“Do you think you can make it there?” Jon asks anxiously.

“Yes Jon, really, I’m alright now—”

He breaks off as he pushes himself away from the table, dizzily staggering back a few steps as he does. Jon reaches for him then, looping his unoccupied arm around Martin’s to steady him.

“Well…a bit better, anyways. Perhaps.”

Jon snorts at this. “Alright, then. But you’re going to have to call Tim if you fall over, I am not carrying you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Martin replies, a small grin at last spreading across his face.

…Jon has found a name for the warmth that keeps bubbling up in him.

Oh.

Right.

He finds himself unable to stop mirroring his smile, and resolves to put as many as possible onto Martin’s face.

#tma fic #tma #the magnus archives #hurt/comfort #jonmartin

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inert-dystopian · 3 years

Text

The Journey Thus Far

These last three weeks since starting T have been full of ups and downs, doubts and affirmations.

I was not one of those people who started my T shots and got that rush of euphoria that is often talked about. As a person with anxiety I questioned myself a lot because I didn’t feel that excitement.

It took talking to a bunch of trans folx on a Discord server to reinforce that it’s completely normal to not have excitement, everyone’s journey is different. It’s something I wish I would have been told before I started, because it made me worry quite a bit about myself and whether or not I was making the right decision.

I know I am Trans Masc. There’s no doubt about that. I don’t feel at home in my body with feminine objectification which seriously plagues women today. I never understood why I had issues with my own mental self image, and instead pictured myself as male in my head until I came to terms with the fact I was trans. I used to ask my mother if she was -sure- I wasn’t supposed to be a boy. All of these things led to a breaking point in October when my new friends admitted that they had difficulty not using ‘he’ as my pronouns, and when I reached out to someone I dated briefly, they also admitted that I had a masculine energy about me.

All of this is to say that yes, while I recognized I was trans, I was equally frustrated as to why I had such a hang-up about starting Testosterone. I pushed hard to get on T to begin with, and now that I had it, why was I feeling the way I was? Maybe it was because I watched too much YouTube with people being elated to start T. And when I found that when I didn’t get that rush, it somehow must mean it was wrong. Even my therapist felt that maybe I should stop taking it and evaluate myself more before resuming. But instead, I persisted, and not because I am stubborn and don’t listen. It is because starting the journey of testosterone is new and unknown, things I typically struggle with.

I was being pushed out of my comfort zone by my own self, and I needed to embrace the fact that I didn’t know how my journey would turn out. I just had to have faith that in the future, whatever I looked like, that at least I’d be my genuine self.

Just the fact I wear men’s dress pants and collared shirts, cologne and fancy dress shoes to work makes me feel more valid as a man. Sure getting used to using the men’s restroom and wearing a binder/packer at work takes some time to adjust, but I’m doing it, and I will soon be comfortable with it.

At this point I am rambling, but I just want to get this out in the open for my own mental health, as well as to share my experience in case others think they’re alone in their thoughts.

I welcome any conversation about this, like I said I’ve only been out as trans since October, but really I’ve known deep down for a while now. At 32, I think I am lucky enough to have the control in my own life needed to make these changes safely, so I started late, but at the same time, exactly when it was right for me.

#transmasc #transgender #transition #ftm #lgbt #lgbtq #hrt #testosterone #journal

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nossbean · 3 years

Note

Myrcella / Sansa Anon Here: Like Jaime and Brienne are both Beauty and the Beast, Myrcella and Sansa have the potential to be both Cinderella and the Prince/Knight. Myrcella a bastard disguised as a Princess and Sansa is a Princess disguises as a bastard. When the Starks fell, the old man could have written Myrcella as one of Sansa’s Protectors since she knows how to survive Cersei while when the Lannister’s fell from power, Sansa would give Myrcella a home. For cherry on top, Myrcella could 1/2

2/2 inherit Jaime’s sword skills and her desire to pursue that could be a way to escape being her mother’s mini-me, only valued for her looks, and toxic family as well as an attempt to gain some control over her life. I had more articulate thoughts on this but I wrote them down somewhere I can’t recall. In canon, you already have Arianne set up for the fairy godmother role and Brienne as a subversion of the typical stepmother. Either way, less creepy than any potential in-canon Sansa ships.

Honestly, anon, you persuaded me with these first two, but the absolute joy is that you came through with even more! I do wanna quickly say though that I support folx shipping who they ship and in whatsoever way brings joy, we’re all here for the love of the characters and the story after all <3

I am as ever at the moment, very late to the party, but I’m so glad you came back to share all this! A lot of what you’ve said by way of potentials has lived rent free in my head. I’m very into the fairy tale elements you’re describing (particularly noting Arianne as fairy godmother, and Brienne as a subversion of the typical (boring, sexist) fairy tale stepmother...!) and the incorporation of major themes that could be present in Myrcella’s arc (I’m poss wearing my clown shoes, etc, but I do think there’s a chance some of those could come to bear in the remaining books, with or without Sansa, so let’s hope) Your note about Myrcella inheriting Jaime’s sword skills set off a different thought in my head, that it would be interesting for her to instead pick up a lot of the knight’s code and utilizing it to her whims and needs, though without the fighting/sword skills element. There’s resonance and balancing there, then, with parts of Sansa’s arc, and also with themes in Brienne’s arc, and is again, a repudiation of much of what Cersei (and Joffrey) thinks and believes. Though am also very much here for more sword wielding ladies.

Anyway, onwards with the rest of your Sansa/Myrcella galaxy-braining:

Also, we know Myrcella wasn’t scared of Joffrey so we could have had Myrcella getting in his face to defend Sansa and having a tense stand-off. Plus, it would be a more explicit sign of Jaime and Cersei not being soulmates and gender swapped mirrors as the cruel and cowardly Joffrey being Cersei if she was a boy and brave and clever would be Jaime as a girl.

ANON. I am SO INTO playing with aligning Cersei with Joffrey and Jaime with Myrcella explicitly! It definitely could be there for the taking (that note about where did Myrcella and Tommen get their sweetness, I WONDER) but whether GRRM will take it... Things seem to be pointing Tommen-ward atm when it comes to possibilities with Jaime and his children, which is, idk, to be expected to a degree I guess. BUT ALSO, as is on the record, I’d really rather a sharp veer towards Myrcella instead (Tommen can come too I guess but centring Myrcella would be grand)

And also just: a Myrcella who takes on her brother (and by extension, Cersei) *on behalf* of Sansa would have been fucking incredible, and would absolutely have been particularly satisfying for the resonance it would have for Jaime’s later arc. And there’s every possibility Myrcella could have stood up for Sansa, or even if we frame it more as “against Joffrey”, at least at first. Also what you describe as being possible later by way of role reversal of who protects who, yes thank you please. Deeply into how that shapes Lannister-Stark relations and also honestly the potential impact on LSH storylines, in the event Sansa meets LSH in around the same time Brienne and Jaime are confronting her (I mean, that would substantially alter the timelines, possibly, but still!)

Also ALSO, Sansa being sapphic would better show the limits societal scripts have a person’s perceptions, agency, and ability to connect with others since her character is so influenced by storytelling, imagination, and societal roles. It would also expand her understanding of womanhood and femininity, paving the way to reconcile with Arya.

Into this, as well! Don’t really have much more to say than that, really XD Oh, only that Sapphic Sansa is very satisfying to say, hehe. Anon, I ask if you’ve read this excellent meta about Sansa? It’s a long read but a good one.

admittedly, Myrcella did luck out with getting the sweet, age appropriate, and non-creepy Trystane Martell as her canon love interest.

My cynical take here is that it isn’t coincidence that Myrcella lucked out with Trystane being sweet and being part of a family who (mostly?) wants her safe and happy not just because of her proximity to the Iron Throne but for her own sake, only to be almost certain to lose him, heh.

Sansa/Myrcella it could be about forgiveness, chosen families, breaking the cycles of violence and revenge, hope for the future, the importance of female solidarity, re-writing the future to include everyone.

Just here to say I am a sucker for each and every one of these themes, thank you.

Physical doubling is another shared feature of both Myrcella and Sansa’s stories. Everyone comments on how much Sansa looks like her mom and Littlefinger plans to unveil her identity using her red hair. Myrcella also looks like her mom and has a double in her cousin. Both are hurt and almost killed while in care of someone they should trust, Myrcella during the Queenmaker plot and Sansa with her Aunt Lysa.

Sansa’s themes of identity, self-preservation, perception, longing for something beyond your childhood home, the power and consequences of shaping stories through truth and lies can easily be mapped onto Myrcella.

Your Jaime and Myrcella post reawakened my dormant interest in Myrcella and Sansa, since Jaime is tasked with returning Sansa.

Again, mostly am just here for all this, particularly the potential theme sharing and how they could help one another through 😍🤩

Reading all this, I feel like you hit on one of the major things that GRRM fails with on the regular in ASOIAF, which is that women and girls... often like one another? Even when they’re, like, different from one another? 😱😱😱 And even if he didn’t want to pursue a shippy route, to your earlier point, there was plenty of room for friendship and solidarity between Sansa and Myrcella when they were both in KL, even with Myrcella being younger. There could be an added element wherein Myrcella goes behind Cersei’s back somewhat to do this, given Cersei would undoubtedly put the kibosh on it had she been aware - which again, would have had resonance later for that Jaime and Myrcella mirroring angle. Buuut that would require GRRM to recognize the power of relationships between girls and women, and I admit I remain stuck on the idea that apparently no woman or girl in Brienne’s life ever did anything but mock/deride her until Catelyn came along. I invite you to imagine that a small part of my soul is always howling to the heavens: NO ONE????????? (though this is, happily, an easily retconned detail, so my clown nose is honking that there may be even a throwaway note about some girl or woman in Brienne’s past in Winds, anyway, I digress)

I DUNNO, I’m trying to, like, contribute to this excellence but mostly I’m just picking up everything you’re putting down...!

And finally:

I don’t have a Tumblr, though I enjoy reading fic and people’s meta, so I forgot I sent that ask to be honest, haha.

Again, I’m sorry for how very, very late here, but I am so very glad you did...!!!!

#anonymoose #askbox #char: myrcella baratheon #char: sansa stark #ship: myrcella x sansa #meta: asoiaf #there's a lot here which gets to exactly the kinds of things i like about ships jfkldajhlkdaf #q'd #long post

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mybodyliberation · 5 years

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Primark And Resizing

If you live in Europe, are over the age of 15 and have ever shopped in a Primark and tried on things in the dressing room, I don't even need to ask if you've had an emotional breakdown. I automatically already know.

Rest assured we all stand together in a silent solidarity that spans decades. We all feel one another's pain recalling some of her most trauamtic experiences coming to ahead in those fluorescent filled cubicals.

We acknowledge those minutes spent something under harsh lights, unable to get those skinny jeans passed our calves. We honour the memory and we forge on towards healing.

Now as a past employee I think its okay for me to admit that though convenient and decently priced, we have all had bad experiences with Primark and yet as of late I have been seeing somewhat of a revolution take place.

Primark...is listening.

I am seeing not only a company and fashion rebranding but an ethical and environmental change and its something to behold.

We see a big brand actually listening to its customers and its quite something to behold. We're witnessing collabs with magazines and influencers and celebs and we are seeing genuine fashion week trends hit the rails; not to mention the most wonderous array of Disney and Harry Potter merch, but the big thing I want to talk about is:

The new resizing!

Now not that this massive step forward doesn't effect those who wear straight sizes, but the bigger folx are out in these streets two stepping in joy!

Does this mean we actually get....accurate sizing?

Well...I'm here to say...I think it does!

I put the sizing to the test and picked out an entirely new outfit in the hopes that only would I stay within a reasonable budget but I would have a fashion forward look which FITS.

As a general rule whether its a plus size brand or not I go with what looks like a stretchy material and I size up regardless because ain't nobody got time for that.

Yellow seems to be the colour of the summer and autumn for me so I worked the outfit from the head down.

Crushed velvet corduroy alice band, white "moving forward" tee, and Clueless inspired checkered yellow pinafore dress. All clothing in a size 20 just in case.

Again I bought clothes that I would not only shoot in but want to wear again.

So....was the sizing legit?

Babes...it was most definitely.

I find myself genuinely shook that not only could I have gone for my normal size but that the quality of the clothing, the cut and accurate sizing could definitely fit my size 19, 20, 22 and depending on the item of clothing, 24 boos!

Considering I can vividly recall the years they even introduced a size 18 let alone a size 20, I am extact that they are genuinely making steps to include plus bodies.

There is a whole market of people that would be willing to spend their coin there if they consciously include them and I think this practical resizing will do wonders for not only for peoples confidence in themselves but their trust in the Primark brand.

The whole outfit cost me £23 in TOTAL and honestly I am so impressed with the turn out that as someone who has actively avoided Primark the last few years, I will be consciously checking out what they have on offer on a more regular basis.

Any future that is focused on being inclusive is a bright one.

Well done Primark for taking steps to join that future!

#review #reviews #primark #high street #high street fashion #plus size #plus size fashion

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korracrat · 6 years

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Thank you so much for talking about white passing POCs. I’ve lived my whole life being a white passing full blooded Taíno Puerto Rican and I get told so frequently that I’m not ‘tan’ or ‘dark’ enough to consider myself such. It’s always hurt not to feel comfortable claiming my own culture around unknowing people and to be met with a POC-gatekeeper testing my every move to if I’m being honest. So thank you much for spreading the word for us white passing POCs! 🙌🏻

Honestly I understand the gatekeeping to a certain degree. Whitepassing folxs do have a certain amount of visibility to the major cultures and as a result privilege whether we want to admit it or not. We are more likely to be accepted into our communities especially if we are reconnecting than who are darker and not fitting the stereotype.

While it does get me peeved I do understand it, the post was more to actual white folxs saying heyo kindly leave those in our community to police pretendians and fakes.

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ackwok · 6 years

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Reflections Five Years On

A few months ago, I took my first trip back to Seattle in five years. As much as it was a great opportunity to catch up with friends I made at Seattle U and see how much Seattle has changed, it was a chance for me to come face to face with what happened five years ago, and how it changed my life. For those of you that don't know, I was suspended, then dismissed from Seattle U for low academic performance. My GPA at the time was 2.17 Yes, 2.17. It was a long time coming - I reached many points during those four years where I was only passing one class, of every four classes I took. I was depressed and had low energy. At times I didn't feel like I wanted to get out of the room or out of the house, where I didn’t feel like doing anything, where what I did wouldn’t matter. To stay up late a majority of the time, try to write that essay, to put it aside at the end of the night, to fail to pull my grades up, and dread/ eventually not even want to look at my transcript. It hurt. Then to go back home during break, to experience the same shouting matches with my parents about what was going on at school, feeling like I was again being compared to others in my family, wondering whether it would be better for me to drop out, feeling almost useless... Feeling left out, because of my GPA, and at the same time, not knowing how to reverse the cycle - as much as I wanted to do better - was tough. Feeling like I had to hide part of what was going on from family and friends, was heartbreaking. But that isn't the full picture. Those of you that know me, know that my feelings for Seattle U are even more complex. As much as being dismissed was, and is still a cause of great pain for me. As much as I still live with the doubt of "Can I see this through?" "Am I really going to succeed?" "Am I really qualified?" going to Seattle U was life-changing for me. Seattle U gave me the space to explore & find myself. I was baptized and confirmed at Seattle U, finally coming to know a community that I could put my whole self in, without having to worry about whether I prayed enough, or, dare I say it, singing with a low voice. I got to know some amazing people at SU - friends that I still talk to today and mentors that guided me in how to dream big & think about myself. Living in a community where social justice - community, simple living, service, spirituality, and solidarity - is such a big part of life. Going to a university where I found others deeply invested in social justice and wanting to do something, where all our identities meet, was inspiring, day in and day out! Being in the Student Alumni Ambassadors & on the Integrity Board helped shaped who I am today, despite how I might have left either of them. Being involved with Camp Min, finding friends there that I could surround myself with even amid the troubles that were going on academically, meant a lot to me. Taking GAP classes and going to Costa Rica, albeit on a summer immersion program, helped me to see another level of respect in the more global society that we live in nowadays. When I think back on what prepared me the most for taking the classes to transfer and complete my BA, it was Seattle U. The amount of reading and critical thinking I was pushed to do, the level of integrity and trust professors placed in us, taking advantage of office hours. All of this made completing my degree seem like a cakewalk - though it was far from it. Yet for all this, despite the pain, struggle, and tears that came with it, I feel truly blessed. Thinking back on things that I did those five years ago, one more thing stands out to me - the Agape Retreat that I went to my last year at SU. This was the retreat that encouraged me to start coming out & find a way to embrace all of who I am. Since then, I've come out to a number of friends indirectly, built community where I'm at (not as easy, given that the Gaysian community in the bay area is centered mostly around who goes clubbing every month!), and begun to explore what it means to actively live out the intersection of my various identities. So for those of you who have supported me when I was going to SU - even if you may not think we're that close - thanks for your friendship, support, & care. For those that I got to know while taking classes at Ohlone or SF State, thanks for your friendship and helping me to get through all those classes. For those of you who I met via Downelink, GNet, Grindr, Project 4Play, Chai Chats, QACon, APIENC, NQAPIA, or at some random G3S event, thanks for being there and embracing me for who I am. Thanks for supporting me and continuing to show me what love truly means. A week ago I attended my first NQAPIA - National Queer Asian Pacific Islander Alliance - Conference, here in San Francisco. For those of you who don't know, it's a conference for LGBTQ API folx that's held every three years. In short, it was more than I could have ever hoped for. Seeing people that I could identify with - not only those who are also LGBTQ API; but that also know the pain of being deeply hurt by family, religion, & racism, that are also open, caring, and self-aware that we're all sorting out things that most people in today's society would be afraid, even on the defensive, to admit was mind-blowing. The hesitation I had felt, with being in the space when many who attended actively work or volunteer with organizations NQAPIA represents, was replaced by laughter, joy, tears for those at the conference who were hurt and those who have been hurt by others, passion, a sense of empowerment, community, and pride.

I learned a lot from having gone to NQAPIA - and it’s been an environment that has given me back as much as I have put in, that has constantly refreshed me over and over again - a fountain of grace, that overflows over and over again, at the intersection of who God has made me to be.

#reflections #life #SeattleU #lgbtq #asian american

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hersmilingeyes · 6 years

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I think paranoia will one day just stop my heart

Black Mirror come true type shit It’s terrifying bc of the suspension of disbelief—bc we’d be horrified to have that life So if any of that shit comes true, we’d be familiar w it and horrified. But not surprised, while also being surprised. This is a subconscious reason why I strive to be sincere and intentional— I want to be able to own what I put out into the world. It’s not perfect by any means, no, but it’s important fer me to mean what I say and say what I mean Strangely, I am still working on the latter This is an effort. But I reckon there is such a thing as intentional to a fault Bc what it means to me is that I need to make the decision, even if it is the mistake Hmmm, we are not so different Bc I would make the mistake despite knowing I would need to own the mistake Be accountable fer it ((I cannot tell if this is my deepest efforts of empathy or if this is how I truly feel)) It reflects the concept of it being easier to beg fer forgiveness than to ask for permission—a concept that I have always felt minimizing consent. It always rubbed me the wrong way. How important is this to empathize w? Now that I can relate to it in my own ways, I cannot tell if this is fer better or fer worse I would opt fer having a say first But if it were up to me wanting to do something I want to do, I wouldn’t want to always have to ask permission It would eventually feel like asking like permission to live life Esp during times you have to make a lot of tough choices Most times, you just have to make the tough choice yerself Not applicable to sexual consent, as that is when consent is an always and not a sometimes requirement So I guess that was my main concern w that forgiveness over permission quote; I don’t want it to be a motto fer folx to feel justified raping anyone. There are many different ways to convey the same concept, but not all of them are equally acceptable. Such is the same fer synonyms, I suppose. Each word part of the spectrum of the meaning of that one word How they relate How they are related They are related, but there is a clear gradient of wrong and right. Dark is dark and light is light The inbetween is it’s own color It is up to interpretation Intuition decides that color Deep down, you know And it comes full circle You often know yer first answer, even when you choose to agree with the second answer Even if yer second answer is right, you decided Even if more than two options came to mind, you chose accordingly I am learning I still choose fer me. I put myself first when I want to Not all the time, but significant times as well as insignificant times That’s another twist—best option fer whom? Whom are you considering that this may effect, and what are you factoring in? How much thought are you putting in fer them? Can we be expected to think in that amount of depth at all times? Is this an appropriate standard to put on folx when I doubt my own ability to adhere to it? Does that make it right? Or is that non-negotiable—nullifying forgiveness vs permission? Which is to imply that making something easier adds to its acceptability Wow, learning a lot of content here that I’m unearthing a lot of ideas and feelings that I need to reassess if they were merely true in the past or if they are still true now. A defragmentation of the mind, if you will. It feels strange to be so conscious of it. But also v healthy and necessary This may have been true then; is it true now? Is this still part of my narrative or am I successfully editing my story? Wow, this is v important. Like, I am in so much pain bc I know what is hurting me but I don’t know how to admit I’m hurt to the people who hurt me I’m experiencing a familiar pain and now I am aware of it, y’know? This has happened before—what can I do differently? And it’s how I choose to express my pain, and whether I choose to identify w the pain anymore. What if I decided it was ok? Whatever it is that is causing me pain, I just decide it doesn’t hurt me anymore? Figuring this out will be an earnest effort. Figuring this out will open me up to responding easier in the future. Not to put any pressure on it, but to recognize the significance of it. I reckon either way I would grow to some degree, just by having the experience. But when you look at it Short-Term growing and Long-Term growing is to Short-Term memory and Long-Term memory... This would be a Long-Term growing A paradigm shift This would be an instance where I transcend something I once believed to be true And adopted a new truth ((fer me)) Which is a big deal to me, bc it changes me. I wish to change fer the better.

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hersmilingeyes · 6 years

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It’d be cool if

This couple and I courted each other and adopted each other in our lives I could be into this idea I keep getting mixed up w unavailable people Not like this couldn’t be a thing, but you know, it likely isn’t Things can be confusing but not a thing And that’s real I just really dig this cat and their partner is p cool, too It just feels real healthy not feeling possessive Attentive, but not possessive I just wanna learn what it feels like to be close to her, to them. I would be happy even just exploring that intimacy. I love that I’m growing into myself to be able to articulate these desires, if only to myself at first. I knew I’ve been feeling ready to let folx in again, ready to see how it feels to mix it up... Learning what new folx are like This feels Invigorating I feel in my element in a strange way Just...ready fer anything Not necessary confident fer everything but Ready as I’ll ever be I think it’s bc I feel good Bc I know I’m good ———- My intuition has been eerily on point lately. I can just sense something moments before it happens sometimes. Close enough to recognize the “coincidence.” T’day, I wanted brunch. I thought of places to go, and even tho I’ve never been there, I knew storyhill bkc would prob come up, and I’d have to decide whether or not I wanted to go. A grrrl I dated works there, and although we have no beef ((to my knowledge at least)), that would be our first time seeing one another in a while. Since being more intimate. And that can be strange sometimes, you know? The residual that remains. Like, we’re different now. But we haven’t practiced much; are we even capable of trying it out? Can we do it? Not be drawn to one another? Not enjoy the pull a bit? Not even just a little? That attraction? Where did we decide to put it again? Of course, out of over 15 choices pulled from a friend out of a hat, it’s the first choice. I’m feeling good—solid—so I’m like, ok, let’s go It’ll be fine if I see her, it’ll be fine if I don’t—it has been, yknow? Also, I had the best company fer this. I felt especially capable in their company. Strong. Less penetrable and more aware of my control, my boundaries I can’t help but admit that tiny anxiety in glimpsing her. In being the closest in proximity we have been aware of since we used to hang out. Small shortness of breath. But then I looked at my friends and I felt this boost of strength. I caught my breath. Stood tall. Let myself exhale into a deep belly laughter bc I was happy. I am happy. I could be happy in a space we coexist in, and that was a relief. I could still love her but not be ‘in it’ you know? Anyway, we ended up going somewhere else bc the wait was ridiculous. What we decided on was perfect. I was so in love t’day. Just w how the day unfolded. Power hangs. Delicious food. Right amount of weird. Laughter. It felt so good to be amongst intimate familiars and feel free n happy I find that anytime I can feel and be simply happy Just bc Is a time I need to note Bc I can get so lost, I can forget how to get back there Here To simply joys Simple happiness Not ignorant or naïve But happy despite everything I still am, can be, and it’s not something that has been lost forever yet I still have this small treasure My happiness What I generate from being myself and learning to love and enjoy myself It feels like the best date And those who vibe...awesome. Even better. Let’s boogie n blend a bit. Love out loud bc why not?

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