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#questioning transition
incognitoradicale · 1 year
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okay so how do I go off testosterone the smartest way? Just going at once probably isn't that good.
and I am not really wanting to tell the clinic because I fear they're gonna freak out LOL.
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magicomens · 4 months
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Happy Merlin finale anniversary to those who celebrate :)
I'm taking a small break from the comic for the holidays, see you in late January with Part 8 and a new story arc!
First >> Prev >> Next
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incognitopolls · 27 days
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HRT: hormone replacement therapy. Common forms include pills, injections, and gels.
We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.
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thatrandommatildafan · 2 months
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t4t jegulus that transitioned together. T4T JEGULUS THAT TRANSITIONED TOGETHER
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puppetmaster13u · 3 months
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Prompt 180
Danny looked at Wes, and Wes looked at Danny, both of their eyes saying the exact same thing: What the fuck is even happening right now. 
Apparently they can be summoned. Apparently, a cult from a different dimension tried to summon something and got them instead. Apparently their bodies got shrunk, or de-aged or however one wanted to explain it. APPARENTLY, this universe has heroes, and apparently they seem to be their universe’s equivalent to two of the villains here. 
Honestly, these “Cheshire” and “Riddler” people couldn’t be that bad compared to the Fentons. What are the chances they’ve committed war crimes or joined a government branch to legally vivisect things? That’s right, no chance. Probably. 
They should probably leave the hero-people to their freakout and find a way home. 
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yardsards · 2 years
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hunter being a trans guy is so funny because like
possibility 1:
wittebro was a trans guy living in 1600s connecticut and nobody batted an eye
possibility 2:
belos makes hunter and is like "aw shit, this one's got the wrong bits. oh well, guess i'll raise it as a boy anyway. luckily those loathesome 'transgender' witches have invented potions for this- y'know, if i don't kill him before he reaches puberty"
possibility 3:
belos makes hunter and is like "aw shit, this one's got the wrong bits. guess i'll have to deal with a girl for the next couple decades, it'd be too much work to kill and remake this one just because it came out wrong."
and then hunter gets older and is like "uncle, i wanna be a boy"
and belos is too busy being like "all according to keikaku" to be transphobic about it. task failed successfully.
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chrissy-kaos · 4 months
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Do you have a twitch
I don’t… But.. would that be something ya’ll would be interested in? Let me know because I’m kinda on the fence about it! I’m not the best gamer but since there’s snow outside and it’s to warm to play pond hockey yet I got nothing better to do!
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jtl-fics · 11 months
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Fluent Freshman - Part 15
PREVIOUS
The thing is… FF is aware that he should probably be medicated. You might be saying well isn’t he taking his ulcer medication? The answer is yes he is and when he is getting close to missing a dose Nicky’s usually the one that texts him with six frowny face emojis asking if he took his meds (they have a system, he takes his meds and then he texts Nicky)
No, he knows that he should probably get on something for his anxiety. Betsy has offered to get started on getting him on the right cocktail, his grandma thinks it’s a good idea, and Nicky has offered to get him as much weed as he needs to chill out, he knows a guy. Andrew is probably only going to stab him and threaten him not actually hunt him for sport, in his moments of clarity he can accept and understand that.
But there is nothing in this world that he wants less than to get back on anxiety medication. The world had been grey, it muted everything in the world for him, he faded completely into the background of his own life, and he couldn’t even grieve-
He was almost thankful for his step-dad’s sudden arrival in his life and how quickly his mom forgot about him to spend every waking moment she could on him and his children and then their children. It was two years of nothing and then his mom stopped picking up and refilling his prescription because it was too much of a hassle to keep picking up every month.
“He’s not anxious, see he’s fine. He doesn’t need it anymore.”
The withdrawal and the emotions that came afterwards had been hellish. He’d collapsed into his Grandma’s arms and begged her not to call his mom. He spent an entire month of summer vacation feeling like he was going to die and when he got back he found that no one had even missed him.
He swallowed the hurt, all of his emotions felt so much stronger now that he’d lost them for two years. If he has reactions like he’d had before he knows his mom will put him back on the medication.
The town is small and everyone talks. He knows about the dog walker’s poop flinging scandal, he knows about how the butcher’s left pinky got put back on wrong when he’d cut it off, he knows that the kid down the street paid $40 for a bag of oregano that he thought was weed, he knows that lil susie is in counseling because a girl should probably not be establishing cult rituals around her barbies.
He can’t react, can’t let people know he’s dying from anxiety because his math teacher sighs when he hands over his test. Can’t let anyone know that he has to put his head between his legs and take deep breaths before he can go into the cafeteria. His only solace is that all of the foreign language teachers love him, it’s easier to accept a compliment or comment in a language his family doesn’t use.
His step family treat him like the guards outside of Buckingham. Anything for a reaction y’know? He tells himself he does not care and for the most part he doesn’t.
He signs up for Exy in middle school because he just wanted something to do and it was the sport that had the same meeting days as his grandma’s bowling league. She picks him up from practice and they get ice cream together afterwards, she’s the only thing he has since Great Gran passed not too long after he got free of the medication.
He still feels her fingers checking behind his ears on occasion, a joke now that he’s off his meds referencing when he was too zoned out to care about hygiene. He still remembers her looking at him and feeling like she was seeing more than just him, “You’re a Smith. The last one when me and my daughter go. We’ll all be with you whenever you need us.” She promises.
He thinks it’s just respectful to get her favorite scent when he needs her help. He was raised to be respectful.  Lavender still makes him think of her and he hopes his grandma left some on her grave recently.
He knew he’d have to wait to go to college. His mom is putting on the pressure now that he’s 18 saying he will have to pay rent even though Greg is older and definitely isn’t. He plays Exy and thinks about how he’ll handle his life between 18 and 25, he puts all his anxiety into the game and maybe the coach notices something.
He must have noticed something.
The Foxes don’t offer positions to kids who don’t have something going wrong for them.
Coach Wymack and Dan Wilds wouldn’t be there in his little bum fuck nowhere town in Washington if his coach hadn’t sent a tape and an explanation.
He could admit that he knew about the Foxes. He looked up to the vice captain a fair bit not just for his game but also…well the Butcher was national news. Vice Captain Neil’s story was all over the news and maybe he was just a little bit in awe of someone who could stand his ground after all of that. Watching Vice Captain Neil Josten give shit to every last reporter who gave him any shit? Inspiring.
He just didn’t think it’d be a good fit for him.
He’s not like the rest of the Foxes. Dan talks about them all in broad terms, how they’re all fighting to become something and grow beyond the unfairness that was out of their control. FF is tough to convince but he’s a pretty good defensive dealer, Dan and Coach Wymack both want him.
Dan eventually has to go because she has an interview for a coaching position out this way but Coach Wymack just hands over the rental car keys and Coach Wymack stays.
Coach Wymack stays and they keep talking. FF talks about everything and Wymack eventually just says “Well, you’re still here despite all of that aren’t you? Sounds like a fighter to me. I think you’ve got what it takes to carry that weight with some help and I can promise that you won’t have to deal with those jerks past your high school graduation. You’re not going to be the first Fox who I help out from under some asshole parents and you won’t be the last.”
So he signs a contract, he’s 18 he can do that AND buy cigarettes now (he won’t. That’s how Gran lost gramps when dad was still young but he COULD. Much like he COULD go into the town’s only sex toy shop but that would be back to his grandma faster than the cigarette purchase to be honest and he isn’t THAT interested in what’s in there.)
He finishes up school but the assistant coach is a friend of his step dad and mentions that he’s signed to the Foxes. It’s just one week between his graduation and when Coach Wymack is coming to grab him
Suddenly he exists in his house for the first time since they all moved into it after the wedding and it’s the WORST. The want things, they want promises, they want assurances, they want to pretend and act like he’s always been there.
He flees to his Grandma’s house and texts Coach Wymack asking if there’s ANY chance he can get picked up early because he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to talk if he calls the man.
Coach Wymack comes for him and shoulders him past his ‘family’ to the rental car but the panic attack he sees in the car ride to the airport when his family’s car follows them all the way to the rental drop off means that he HAS to see Betsy.
Betsy is nice. Betsy teaches him how to breathe through stuff. Betsy teaches him how to ground himself in reality. Betsy tells him that the Starbucks girl probably doesn’t hate him. Betsy suggests he get on some medication.
He said No.
He’s scared out of his MIND in Palmetto but it’s better than-
He prefers to feel things.
Betsy tells him that it shouldn’t have been like that. His mother should have taken him back and gotten his prescription adjusted until it wasn’t like that.
He still declines.
Andrew gets suspicious about him knowing Russian after that game of Never Have I Ever and Nicky keeps almost letting it spill right by him. His stomach hurts the CVS girl keeps pepto for him behind the counter.
He still declines.
He prefers to feel things.
You can’t enjoy the thrill of a 100% on a Kanji Basics midterms without the anxiety of the Oral presentation. You can’t feel the true satisfaction of getting a blender for 25% off + 50 dollars of in-store credit without the flop-sweat of the searching eyes of a woman wearing PINK branded lounge wear. You can’t keep friends if you have no ability to empathize with them even if you’re worried you’re annoying them or ‘humble bragging’.
Fear is better.
Betsy tells him if he’s ever ready then she will help him. His Gran tells him she loves him. Nicky says “Look there’s a strain called White Russian. That’d be funny right?!”and FF agrees but declines to sample it.
Right now, as Nicky smudges eyeliner under his eyes and tugs at his shirt for the 80th time, he thinks it might actually be better to feel nothing.
He’d woken up from his…nap? He might have fainted actually? But he did it on a bed and it lasted for like 4 hours? So does that count as a nap? He wants to ask but also doesn’t want to worry anyone, maybe he could ask Aaron that if a Friend faints and doesn’t wake up for four hours is that a nap or a medical emergency? Just curious.
When he had emerged from Nicky’s room Captain Neil and Andrew had herded them all into the Maserati and they’d gone out and gotten McDonald’s for a late lunch. The only comment he had gotten when he’d asked for a happy meal (his stomach could not handle anything more) was whether or not he wanted the toy.
“Yes.” He answered panicked at the sudden question.
He got his Megamind toy, accidentally shone it into Aaron’s eyes when he pushed a button. “Shit that’s bright” before he apologized and shoved it in his jacket pocket.
They hung out at the house for the rest of the day.
They watched movies, played Mario Kart (how is Captain Neil this bad when his reflexes on the court are so good?) and did some homework. Andrew seemed to actually like the brownies which is why FF probably woke up from his... still haven’t asked Aaron if it’s a nap or a medical emergency.
He has a square and even at room temperature they taste great.
When it started to get dark they all went to go get ready. FF had gone to get whatever clothes Nicky had prepared on but had found himself sat on the man’s bed (so much glitter, seriously how can one bed have so much of it?) and Nicky holding a pencil to his eye and telling HIM not to flinch.
“Gonna have all the….” Nicky pauses and adopts a look on his face that means that he’s thinking incredibly hard about something. “Wait how have we been friends for MONTHS and I have no idea how you swing?” FF is caught off guard for a few moments because it’s the first time that Nicky has verbally confirmed that they are, in fact, friends and…
Wow.
That’s so nice.
He thought it was just Nicky’s innate inability to leave something to suffer needlessly that had the upperclassmen helping him. (FF has watched Nicky go out of his way to give cats food, turn turtles back onto their stomachs, and walk into traffic to stop cars so that a duck family could make it to a pond. He just sort of figured he was the same level of pathetic)
Wait.
What.
“Wait, what?”
“How do you swing?” Nicky repeats.
FF knows what he means but doesn’t want to. “With my left hand.” He responds and hopes Nicky drops it because the long and short answer is: he doesn’t know. He has no idea.
“Ohh dirty!” Nicky makes a jacking off motion with his left hand and FF feels embarrassed sweat cover his body, “NO! Don’t ruin my work!” Nicky yells fanning him with his hands so the eyeliner doesn’t run. “You know what I mean Smithy. Swing for girls, boys, both, neither? What am I working with here?” He asks wiping at FF’s cheek.
“I don’t…know.” He admits because deflecting is OBVIOUSLY not his strong suit. Twice in a row it’s brought up weird sex stuff.
“C’mon don’t be embarrassed. Even if you’re straight you’re obviously an Ally.” Nicky smiles.
“No it’s not…” he flushes okay he is embarrassed but that’s because he REALLY doesn’t know. Like how the hell did he get to college and have ZERO idea about what he’s attracted to or if he’s just not attracted to anyone? He’d been focused on not screaming for the last decade and that hadn’t really left a lot of room to consider how anyone looked. He’s getting used to having friends and three whole group chats (he’s bad at responding to them, overwhelmed by the idea that whatever he says can be revisited and picked apart forever but still, THREE!)
“I really have no idea.” He repeats.
Nicky blinks at him. “Okay well, college can be all about figuring that out then! No worries my sweet boy, we will figure this out.” Nicky pats his cheek.
He feels a little better.
“Alright, let’s go to Eden’s!”
Oh fuck that’s right.
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MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU
NEXT
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uncanny-tranny · 2 months
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Passing as a trans man is a nuanced and complex topic, but one thing I have been noticing as somebody who is a cis-passing (white) trans man is the way I'm treated when there is conflict.
I've noticed that in conflict, people are almost meek around me, willing for me to try working with them up until a woman is involved. When a woman (or, really, anybody who the other party assumes is one) is part of the conflict, they direct all their anger and rage to them. It's fucking insane the way a woman is treated when there is conflict, even if it isn't her fucking fault. These people are fundamental cowards for seeing my manhood as the only reason they can't be openly hostile to me, but it reveals a lot about how a misogynist thinks on an almost primal level.
I'm watching the women and people around me I care about being torn apart by people, and that's unacceptable. I can't sit around to watch it, and I don't want to do that. I need other people to perhaps read this and remember to not stand by if there is something that you can tangibly do to help, even if it's to lend a listening ear or let the person vent.
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incognitoradicale · 1 year
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personal opinion:
I think gatekeeping through thorough examination and therapy and evaluations to access transitioning measures is important/needed. Informed consent the way I see it in the US is failing, one meetup with a doctor is not enough. I do understand how debilitating dysphoria can be but it is important to not just take what's seemingly best and be as quick as possible, but to sit with those feelings for some time and maybe explore other root causes before going through medical treatment that will inevitably change you irreversibly. I think medical transition should be seen less as a fun side activity but for what it is: medical treatment. And it should be taken seriously as such.
An unnecessary way transition is gatekept through financial stuff,the cost of hormones and surgeries (even in countries with socialised medicine,hailing from Germany here),making it near impossible for poor people to access any care, but this is the only issue I have with "gatekeeping transition".
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happyk44 · 3 months
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The thing was Percy didn't like being a bad kid. Every time he got kicked out of a school or wound up in the counselor's office over some incident he wasn't completely blameless for, his mom's brows would pinch. The line on her lip dipped. He knew what she was thinking each time: lost wages, job risk, who was going to watch him if he got suspended, where would she send him if he got kicked out, and so on.
He hated that he did that to her. Being a bad kid meant being a bad son. He refused to be a bad son - not on purpose anyway.
Well, he used to. She wasn't here anymore. Her brows weren't going to furrow. Her lips wouldn't thin. Her shoulders wouldn't draw up and tense before the principal even opened their mouth. It was over.
He didn't have anyone anymore. Nobody at cabin eleven would look at him. Other cabins steered around him like he was carrying the plague. Grover was off doing whatever satyrs did - probably getting ready to infiltrate some new school, befriend some new kid, save their lives. He didn't need Percy. It’d only been a few days but they'd barely interacted. Older satyrs would yank him along into the wood before Percy could get close or even open his mouth. Even Annabeth just eyed Percy with scrutinizing eyes - like she was assessing him for something. But every time he tried to approach her outside of their lessons, she brushed him off.
No one wanted Percy around.
What was the point of being a good kid anymore? There wasn't anything or anyone forcing him to keep his head above water. He was tired of the murmurs. He was tired of the avoidance. Tired of the glares from the Ares cabin. Tired of trying to keep the quake in his stomach tamped down.
He was just tired.
He thumbed along the flat edge of his sword. His new best friend was the pervasive feeling of loneliness. With a miserable sigh, he tucked the sword into the holster on his hip. People barely wanted to spar with him now so he was stuck to sweating it out on the dummies by himself. At least only when Luke wasn't pushing him as hard as possible.
But even with Luke there seemed to be pause. The first time Percy felt his gut yank after being claimed had been in training with Luke, and as soon as the feeling caught him, Luke begged off. Like he'd seen something in Percy that unnerved him. Sometimes when Percy looked in the mirror, he saw something in his eyes that unnerved him. A foreign thing - like a contact lens put in the wrong way.
No amount of poking or prodding at his eyes was going to get it out though. It was inside him - in his blood. He was sure of it.
He was starting to worry that it was the very thing he'd been keeping back, the very thing his mom was trying to keep him safe from.
The clang of metal against metal was loud as he walked past other trainees. There were a couple people leaning against the wall near the water fountain. As expected, they shifted away as he neared. Mistrust was bright in their eyes.
He did his best to ignore it. Not the first time people had stared at him like they thought he was dangerous. Or beneath them.
The water sprayed for a moment before he lowered his head. It was clarifying. He'd noticed it before, a burst of energy with every sip whenever he was tired, but ever since being claimed, he'd noticed the alertness more and more.
As he let go of the button, he caught the tail end of the muttering nearby. His stomach dropped.
“... should've ditched him sooner,” one boy grumbled. His friend snorted. “Maybe then she wouldn't have died.”
“What did you say?” The two startled. Percy understood why. He barely recognized his own voice, the eerie coldness to it frosty on his own tongue. Still, he repeated as he twisted on his heels to face them. “What. Did you just say?”
Panic besot them. For a second, the barest of a second, he could feel it kick in - be a good boy for me, Percy, be a good kid for Mom.
But she wasn't here.
She wasn't here.
So what was the point?
He took a step forward. “What,” he snarled, saliva coating his tongue like froth, “did you say?”
The others shifted away but he just crept forward. “Nothing, man,” one of them finally bit out, but they were lying. He could see it in their eyes, hear in their voice, feel it in their veins.
“You're lying,” he said. A bitten off laugh echoed from his lips. “You were talking about my mom.” Another choked laugh. “You think it's my fault?”
One of them raised his hands - a mock surrender. “Hey, dude-”
“You think I wanted her to die?” A sharp sensation coiled through Percy's chest. It thrummed hot and heavy, piling, piling, piling on his lungs. “You think I asked for ANY OF THIS?”
Someone's hand came to rest on his shoulder and it was like the crashing of the waves against his bare feet. Cold, clarifying, clear.
Freeing.
His fist drove straight into the jaw of whoever was behind him. He could barely tell who he was seeing - it might've been Luke, or any other tall blonde guy. But as soon as whoever it was stumbled back, he whirled around and punched whichever kid was closest in the stomach. They went down and he clambered on top to wail. Fist and fist upon whatever body part he could reach. He wasn't the most elegant hand-to-hand fighter but there was something to be said for the voracious and vicious energy boiling through him.
Distantly he was aware of yelling around him, aware of people pulling at him, aware of the person beneath him crying, arms over their face, arms Percy was tired of hitting. He needed to get their face, get their tongue, rip his mom from their mouth. How dare they speak about her.
How dare anyone talk about her.
A dozen hands finally yanked him back. He screamed. Bodies toppled. He grabbed the closest one by their hair, driving his knee upwards over and over again until hands ripped him away again. Swung blindly and caught someone. The two of them fell. His stomach pulled back. They choked. They weakened. He swung himself over until he was on top.
I want you all to drown, he thought, grabbing at their jaw. Don't ever speak of her again.
Saliva smeared across his fingers. His stomach pulled back even more. What was that - blood, water? On his hands, on his knees, on their skin, on their faces, in their veins.
His free hand drew out. He wanted it. It was his. Didn't they get that? She was his, and she was gone, so he would take and take all else that belonged to him until the hole in his chest was gone. Until the water they had coursing inside them filled him up.
“Percy,” someone whispered.
Their voice was familiar, breath hot against Percy's ear. He twitched. The feeling of nearby water, nearby fluid, was clenched tight in his fist. He just had to pull back. Yank it. Make it his.
The voice turned pleading. “Percy.”
He froze as two hot hands came to clasp his cheeks, dark brown eyes and curly hair blurring into view. Grover's face.
“Grover,” he breathed. For the first time since he'd ended up at camp, he relaxed.
Grover's thumbs stroked his skin. “Yeah, it's me.” He leaned in closer. “Percy, you need to stop.”
“Stop?”
“You're hurting people," he said. “You have to stop.”
Why? Percy thought. He didn't care. He didn't care if they hurt, didn't care if they drowned where they laid choking, didn't care if they suffered. It didn't mean anything to him. They didn't mean anything to him.
But this was Grover.
And with his mom gone, Grover meant the world.
“You want me to stop?”
“Yes,” Grover said. His breath was warm, his skin hot, his body close. Distantly Percy remembered nights at school like this - Grover tucked up next to him, trying his best to help Percy study when most people would've bailed. “I want you to stop.”
His lips were wobbling. His eyes were thick with wetness. His voice was unsteady - trying to be calm and rapidly failing. Even his hands shook.
Percy grabbed at his wrists. “Okay,” he whispered as he clung. His stomach relaxed slowly, the crash turning into a tickle. “I'm good, I'm good.”
Shakily, Grover exhaled, pressed his forehead to Percy's, and murmured, “I know, I know.”
His hands pulled away from Percy's face, but not away from him, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him in for a tight hug. Percy's breathing wobbled as he tucked his face into the crook of Grover's neck. He clung tight and desperate. Pleading.
No, he couldn't be a good son anymore. He didn't have to bother keeping in check to avoid the thin line of his mom's lips. But he could be a good friend. To keep the tears out of Grover's eyes, the tremble from his skin.
“I can be good,” he promised quietly, for Grover's ears only. “I promise I can be good.”
“I know,” Grover said. His cheek pressed against Percy's. “I believe you.”
-
The fountain nearby trickled quietly. The steady flow soothed the unease between Percy's shoulders. Still, he squeezed the pillow in his grip tighter to his chest as he watched Grover flit around the bunk closest to him. He snapped the final end of the sheet around the mattress. Hooves clopped quietly against the tile as he stepped back. His gaze flickered between Percy's bed and his own.
Then he grunted and began pushing it closer.
Percy hopped up. The discarded pillow slipped from his fingers and onto the floor. He nearly tripped over it trying to get to Grover's side. They pushed the other bunk over until it was pressed into Percy's.
While Grover unfurled his blanket, Percy stepped back. Awkwardness choked him. He didn't know what to do, what to say. So he picked the pillow off from the floor and pressed it into his chest. Grover didn't spare him many glances as he worked to make up the bed. Leaning across his bunk, he yanked Percy's blanket from between the seam where the two bed frames connected and began tying the edges of both blankets together. It was shoddy work, no way it wasn't coming apart just from them lying on the sheets, much less sleeping.
But Grover did it anyway.
As he shifted back, hooves scraping the floor, Percy held out the pillow. Grover dusted off the top then laid it against the headboard. With both hands on his hips, he admired his work. Percy stared at it too. It was nice. Joined bed. Grover within direct reach.
His palms itched.
“Are you scared of me?”
Grover twisted around. His brows furrowed, but the edges of his lips were quirked upwards. It was reminiscent of school - Percy stumbling over something he read and Grover, lost but amused, over why Percy thought it was a man-of-war that Theseus fought.
He was partially grateful Grover cut him off before he could finish what he actually thought the sentence was trying to say. It certainly wasn't fight.
“I mean,” Grover started and Percy's stomach drew back. Behind him the trickle of the fountain silenced. Like the water was holding its breath too. “I'm scared for other people, but I'm not scared of you.” He punched Percy's arm with a quiet smile. “I know you're not going to hurt me, Percy. That's why I stopped you.”
The fountain began to trickle again. “And that-” He faltered. The ghost Grover's touched goosed up his bicep and across his shoulder. “-that doesn't worry you?”
That you might have to stop me again went unspoken but Grover was always good at understanding Percy's unspoken words, at knowing his unspoken feelings - even the ones Percy wasn't even aware he felt.
He sighed. “It worries me. But not because it's you.” He shook his head. “And definitely not because I'm scared of you hurting me.”
His eyes scanted away, brows furrowing deeper. Then he relaxed into the bed. After teetering on his heels for a couple seconds, Percy joined him. He gripped the edge of his shorts so tight his palms burned. Grover reached over to stroke along the back of his hand.
He exhaled slowly and let go.
“You remember Pan?” Grover asked.
Percy paused. “The satyr god, right?”
“Yeah.” Grover pulled away to tug at his fingers. “He's been missing for a while. Ever since the industrial age took off. And no one knows where he is. It's the dream of every satyr to find him, so that nature can return to the way it was.”
“That your dream?”
He nodded solemnly. “You have to be a Protector first, before you can get your Searcher’s license. But I'm not like the others.” His gaze fell down. His hands sat in his lap, cupped around nothing but air. “I don't want him just so we can bring nature back to its peak.” He sighed. “We were a lot different when Pan was still around. More free. More wild. I want satyrs and nymphs - all of us to be us again!”
Percy leaned into him. “What's stopping you?”
Grover snorted. “People forgot. We were more than just Pan's disciples. We fought to protect the wild from mankind. We didn't just sit around waiting for him to tell us what to do. But nobody wants to do anything.” He scowled. “They think when Pan returns he'll fix it all and I-” He bit his lip, then shook his head. “The world has changed. And gods don't get involved like that. Not to the extent they want him to. It's not in their nature. But if he comes back then maybe…”
He faced Percy. His eyes were watery, darkening the already dark brown of his eyes into shots of black. The welled tears glistened ever so slightly. Like the night sky, free of pollution.
His lips wobbled into a gentle smile. “But that's why I'm not afraid. You’re like nature at its purest form - chaotic, wild, unburdened.”
Normally those words wouldn't hit Percy as compliments. Insults, degradation - things that would deflate him and make his mom frown. But Grover sounded so earnest, his heart swelled.
“You can't tell, but I can feel it.” He swung his arm over Percy's shoulders and tugged him in close. “Your demigod essence, this sense of the wild that I've been searching for my whole life.” He gestured loosely. “Even the Demeter kids don't have that. Their mom is all agriculture and farming and that's great and all, but it's not pure nature, it's not the wild.” He squeezed Percy's shoulder as best he could with one hand. “You remind me of home, Percy.”
The frog Percy hadn't noticed in his throat jumped out with a burst sob-laugh. He tried to tile away, but Grover just tugged him close, bringing around his other arm to keep Percy pinned. Nonetheless his hold was fairly loose, like Percy was a stray cat he didn't want scratching him if he felt like running.
Or like he knew that Percy was the ocean through and through, unwilling to be contained, wanting to flow wherever he saw fit.
Percy practically crawled into his lap, sniffling into Grover's shoulder. Warm hands stroked up and down his back. He laughed quietly - a half-distressed noise marrying the sound, but managed a breathy wheeze of, “You remind me of home too.”
Grover kissed the top of his head. For the first time since arriving, he shattered. All his twisted up emotions committed out in a tidal wave of tears and broken gasps. All the while Grover held him. As tight as Percy clung to him, he didn't complain. Just held on even tighter. Wetness from Grover's own tears smeared across Percy's skin.
Ever the empathetic. Like his mom.
Percy squeezed his eyes shut. “Please don't leave without saying goodbye,” he begged in a hollow, hoarse whisper.
“I won't,” Grover promised.
They held onto each other even as tears and cries faded away. Grover kept stroking his back with both hands. Percy continued to cling.
Shoulders shaking, Percy wound the fabric of Grover's shirt over his fingers. After a few minutes of toiling silence, he whispered. “I think I'm changing.” He pressed his forehead to Grover's collarbone. “I'm scared.” He pulled back and stared into Grover's eyes. “What do I do?”
“Be my best friend,” Grover said, like it was the simplest answer in the world. And as soon as the words fell off his tongue, it did. How silly was Percy not to think of it before? “My best friend is a good person, the best kind of wild.”
“I can do that,” Percy promised. “I swear, I can do that.”
“I know,” Grover said, squeezing Percy's cheek. His thumb swiped away at a still wet tear under Percy's eye. The stroke was soft, gentle. Kind. “I believe you.”
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incognitopolls · 4 hours
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DIY HRT: purchasing and using hormone replacement therapy without a prescription.
We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.
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queercripintersex · 8 months
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To all those questioning if you're intersex
It's valid to call yourself intersex if you have PCOS
It's valid to call yourself intersex if the diagnosis you have isn't on one of the standard lists of intersex diagnoses
It's valid to call yourself intersex if your intersex variation wasn't evident at birth (most aren't!)
It's valid to call yourself intersex if your intersex variation was one where puberty Did Not Go To Plan
It's valid to call yourself intersex if you have totally ordinary genitals
It's valid to call yourself intersex if the only signs that you're intersex show up on lab tests/imaging and otherwise there's no way somebody could tell from looking at you
It's valid to call yourself intersex if you never had any coercive medical interventions
It's valid to call yourself intersex if you identify your sex as male or female (we are not a third sex!)
It's valid to call yourself intersex if you don't look like how white people with your intersex variation look
It's valid to call yourself intersex if you only found out through freak happenstance as an adult
It's valid to call yourself intersex if you think you were misdiagnosed
It's valid to call yourself intersex if no doctor ever told you you're intersex
It's valid to call yourself intersex if your doctor(s) dispute whether your diagnosis counts an intersex condition (it's not up to them!)
It's valid to call yourself intersex if you feel your intersex variation is a health condition
It's valid to call yourself intersex if you don't like the way you look
It's valid to call yourself intersex if you do like the way you look
It's valid to call yourself intersex if you started your questioning as part of a gender journey
It's valid to call yourself intersex if you started questioning to figure out trauma from your youth
It's valid to call yourself intersex if you started questioning to find other people like you
It's valid to call yourself intersex if you started questioning your intersex status just because you wanted to know
FINAL NOTE: you don't need to be 100% certain you're intersex to start finding, following, and getting involved in intersex spaces. People will understand if you're questioning, and it's the best way to find out if the label fits you! <3
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inalandofsadclowns · 11 months
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Say what you will, but Lancelot's first knighting was the most sexually charged knighting ever to knight.
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polyamorouspunk · 2 months
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People getting mad at me reblogging posts about how you’re still trans/nonbinary even if you don’t want to medically transition sounds a lot like transmedicalism rhetoric no matter how politically you dress it up, just saying.
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lu-sn · 1 year
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currently feeling insane about this unbelievably soft smile
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