Any chance you'd expand on the hank hill trans guy post? (Sorry, best indicator I could come up with.) The concept interests me as I decidedly know my maleness, yet don't feel impeded by for the most part, any male gendered norms/boxes. I am fairly masculine, though I rarely use those kinds terms to describe myself.
I have found I often do stray outside of what society pushed for me when I transitioned, yet I again do not feel it has taken from my right to maleness whatsoever. I am just me, who happens to be male. I have had friends try and suggest I am NB adjacent but I do not feel this way whatsoever. I feel more people are outliers to gender expectation than we care to admit and it's disappointing the way cis-people deny that.
Hope this wasn't too long winded, I value your writing and perspective, and wanted to hear more of your thoughts on this.
Yeah, well so many things all get conflated by gender labels, and it's all so personal, you know? Masculinity does not have to mean maleness, and a person's gender identity might be a reflection of some innate quality they experience themselves as having, or a general summary of their tendencies, or their desired presentation, or their sense of affinity with other people, or an interpersonal tool, or something they just go along with because it was given to them by society, or any other number of things.
I think my recent substack piece on detransition goes into this pretty well, and I have an upcoming piece of what @pastimperfection calls "bilateral dysphoria" that comes out next week that delves into it too.
I think I mostly saw taking on a male identity as a means to an end more than any kind of innate reflection of who I was, though I did feel an affinity with effeminate men for a lot of reasons. I think I also discounted how much I have in common with my fellow nonbinary people of all stripes, because that identity became so strongly associated with being an annoying type of queer person that everybody else just wrote off as ultimately being their assigned gender at birth anyway no matter how much they protested. it doesn't help that 'nonbinary' is a catchall term for literally thousands if not millions of very distinct experiences and desires.
transitioning gave me control over how i was perceived, finally, but hormones are a throttle that only go in one very specific direction, and you don't really have all that much control over which changes kick in at which times and what people will make of you once you do start registering to them as some identity other than what you were first saddled with. it's an incredible gift to be able to toggle that throttle. but it's limited, not because medical transition isn't incredible and needed for so many, but because there is no escaping the goddamned binary cissexist logic that influences everything about how people treat you, how you navigate institutions, who finds you desirable and what they want out of you, and so much else.
if you're able to cast a lot of the external societal bullshit aside and feel strong in your maleness, maybe you're stronger than me or maybe our orientation to these things is just different, i don't know. i was never all that sensitive to feedback that i was doing the whole being-a-woman-thing all that wrong. i reveled in violating those rules to an extent. succeeding at being a woman despite my best attempts was what felt super dysphoric. and now i guess im succeeding at being a man, insofar as im always read as one, and it feels just as uncomfortable and objectifying and false. i thought that with manhood i could probably just grit my teeth and deal with it, but i'm finding that i can't.
ive always been very open that for me, gender is a thing I Do, and i guess to those who know me well it wouldnt be surprising to hear that i have gotten tired of Doing Being a Man and dont feel like playing that particular gendered game anymore. I tend to get bored of things! and find the flaws in things. and find my comfort in being fault-finding and contrarian and not being a joiner. and thats okay. i learned a lot along the way. not having to try any more is a huge relief. i can just do whatever. and know actively that people will more often than not be wrong in what they make of me.
maybe it was natural feeling for you to decidely 'know' your maleness without a care for masculine standards because that is the right identity for you! and maybe i only feel secure in the "not knowing" realm and in letting go of what people think of me or finding any kind of tidy categorization for it because that's the right spot for me. for now. until i find a new interesting way to be unhappy and striving for more and different again. :) that's just part of being alive, for me.
54 notes
·
View notes
i i love your brazilian reader so much😭😭 we dont really have that kind of representation😔 maybe could you write something with her and young daryl? maybe she could be an exchange student and got friends with daryl and is teaching him how to make brazilian food(and desserts too)? that would be adorable!! i love your writtings soo much💕
Run Away With You | Daryl Dixon x Young!Brazilian!Fem!Reader
Summary: Meeting Daryl Dixon was one of the best things to ever happen to you. He was introverted and shy, but with you, he was free to be himself. While preparing one of your favourite desserts, you suggest something to Daryl.
Genre: Fluff.
Era: Pre apocalypse.
Warnings: Mentions of abuse.
Word count: 839.
A/n: I wrote this at midnight while almost falling asleep, but I hope you like this! And thank you, @v1rtualv4mp, so much for helping me with the translations! However, some phrases are from Google translate and the recipe for the dessert in this was found from Google, so please feel free to correct me regarding any mistakes!
And with this fic done and my inbox cleared out, I can now officially say that requests are reopened! Feel free to send them in!
➳༻❀✿❀༺➳
“Should I fill it all the way up or nah?” Daryl questioned you, holding the tray in his hands.
You shifted your attention from the stove to him. “No, only three fourths of the way. That's what my mom taught me.”
Daryl nodded and followed your instructions, carefully pouring the custard into the dough-filled muffin cups. Afterwards he handed the muffin tray to you, carefully observing as you placed the tray in the preheated oven.
Daryl leaned back against the counter. “How long do we need to bake it fer?” he questioned, motioning towards the oven.
You joined him against the counter, leaning your head against his shoulder. Daryl stiffened momentarily before relaxing, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer into his side. He pressed a soft, tender kiss against your temple, smiling softly when you let out a small giggle.
“For about one and a half hours,” you answered him, checking the time on your wristwatch. “So we have to take it out at about four-thirty. Then we let it cool down for ten minutes and then we have ourselves some delicious Pastéis De Nata.”
Daryl hummed. “Portuguese Custard tart?”
You rolled your eyes at him, sending a playful smile up at him. “Sure, if you want to be a falante de inglês chato,” you joked, earning a faint, playful jab to your side, making you laugh. “Hey! Do you even know what I said?”
“Nope,” Daryl replied, shaking his head with a faint smile on his face. “But I do know tha' it probably wasn't a compliment.”
“You're right about that,” you laughed and nodded, nuzzling yourself snuggly against his side. However, you withdrew from his hold when he flinched in pain, sending him a concerned look. “What's wrong, amor?”
Daryl shook his head. “Nothin'. Jus' my father who got a bit carried away last nigh'. Nothin' I can't handle.”
Your heart sank to the depths of your stomach at his revelation. You took his hand in yours and interlaced your fingers, squeezing his hand reassuringly. However, you knew that Daryl hated addressing his home life out loud, so you opted to try and cheer him up.
“You know, we could run away together.”
Daryl raised his eyebrows in surprise, an amused smile gracing his beautiful features. “Yeah?” he asked, looking into your eyes. “And where would we even go?”
“Brazil,” you answered instantly, shrugging your shoulders. “I might be biased, but I do believe that it's one of the most beautiful countries in the world. I just know you'd love it.”
Daryl thought it over for a moment, before letting out an approving hum. “Well, let's say I agree to run away with ya to Brazil. What would we even do?”
“A gente poderia ir no Carnaval, e talvez visitar meus avós,” you mumbled to yourself, soothingly rubbing your thumb over your boyfriend's knuckles. You giggled at the confused look he gave you. “It doesn't matter what I said. We could do anything you want, gatinho. Just name it and I'd make it happen.”
“I've always wanted to go check out what Brazilians do during that festival ya keep ravin' 'bout,” he admitted, shrugging his shoulders. “So we could start with tha'?”
You smiled and nodded. “Anything you want, amor. We'd have to wait for Carnaval to start in a couple of months, but we could make it happen.”
Daryl smiled. “Have I ever told ya tha' I love ya?”
“You have,” you nodded, stepping into Daryl's arms and peering up at him. “And I do, too. Eu te amo tanto.”
You leaned in and kissed Daryl on the lips, savouring the taste of him. However, the moment was short-lived, because the power soon went out, causing you and Daryl to look at each other in confusion.
“Well,” Daryl started, looking towards the oven. “Guess tha's gon' take longer to get ready.”
You rolled your eyes at him. “Seriously? That's your concern?”
“Wha' can I say?” Daryl mused, sending you a playful smile. “I was really lookin' forward to tha' custard tart. Would've packed some fer our journey to Brazil.”
➳༻❀✿❀༺➳
Translations:
falante de inglês chato: boring English speaker.
amor: love
A gente poderia ir no Carnaval, e talvez visitar meus avós: We could participate in the Carnaval, and maybe go visit my grandparents.
Eu te amo tanto: I love you so much.
39 notes
·
View notes