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gonzo-rella · 1 month

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Headcanons: Being Alexis Rose's Trans Boyfriend

MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI

NOTE: While this was written more with binary trans men in mind, I hope this is also suitable for AFAB nonbinary trans people who are masc, male adjacent or otherwise identify with masculinity in some way. I consider myself nonbinary and possibly transmasc, and I wrote this with myself in mind, too. I'm also working on an Alexis x nonbinary!reader set of hcs, for AFAB and AMAB enbies alike, so if this doesn't work for you, stay tuned for that!

Relationship(s): Alexis Rose x transmasc!reader (romantic)

Warnings: Dysphoria, other slightly negative trans-related stuff. (Let me know if I need to add any)

(A/N: So, I'm currently going through a transmasc crisis. Like, I still consider myself nonbinary, but I'm also considering the possibility that I'm more on the dude side of things. I always use the analogy of Kermit the Frog, who's technically a guy, but it's weird to class him as a man because he's a frog puppet thing. To help me experiment and explore, I'm writing some fics with a transmasc reader, since the thing that's got me stumped is struggling to imagine myself as a masculine person in a romantic relationship with any gender. I've already written a set of headcanons using this prompt about Wallace Wells, but I really want to write some more of these for a wider range of characters. I chose to write about Alexis because I'm honestly so in love with her, but I'm struggling to picture myself as a guy sorta thing in a relationship with a feminine woman. So, if you're a trans guy or transmasc looking for some more representation in the fanfic space, feel free to peruse my fandom list and send in a request! My last Schitt's Creek fic flopped but I'm also considering writing a short piece about being Roland and Jocelyn's trans kid and them being confused but supportive, so let me know if you'd be interested in that!)

Alexis has a pretty colourful dating history, as part of her pretty colourful life.

So, being trans doesn’t make you stick out like a sore thumb when comparing yourself to her past boyfriends.

What does make you stick out is the fact that you’re just some guy, and not Brad Pitt or Jared Leto or a prince of a country you probably wouldn’t be welcome in.

Alexis wouldn’t mind that you’re trans.

Even if you don’t pass or don’t present in an overly masculine way, it won’t even cross her mind that you’re trans until you eventually tell her, which would probably be when you’ve been friends for a while.

The revelation won’t change things between you, until you mention something trans-related that she isn’t that familiar with, like dysphoria or something.

I feel like Alexis has some blind spots when it comes to trans people.

She’s experienced a lot in her life, and I imagine she’s been acquainted with at least a few trans people in her time.

But, being trans isn’t her lived experience, and she can be a little oblivious to things that aren’t part of her lived experience.

So, when she can’t do or say anything to help you and can only pretend that she understands, she decides that she needs to learn more about trans people.

She’s too embarrassed to admit to you that she isn’t that knowledgeable about trans people beyond a surface-level understanding.

She’ll try to fill those gaps by asking David questions that he’s mostly equipped to answer as a queer guy who’s been around and dated plenty of trans people, including trans guys.

(She’ll act like she’s not asking for you, though David will quickly realise that’s why she’s so interested in trans people all of a sudden)

But, if/when she starts asking questions about what your transness means specifically for you, he’ll groan and send her away, suggesting that she ask you if you’re open to answering her questions.

She’ll also spend a few late nights on her phone and laptop doing research into trans people and how to support them, and as sweet as David finds it, he does not appreciate the noise of Alexis typing keeping him awake until 3am.

Her sincere curiosity is unexpected but endearing, and if you do end up having a talk with her about your transness, it will be a catalyst in getting you two together, because seeing how much she cares about understanding you makes your heart melt.

Fast-forward to when you’re together.

Johnny and Moira are also a little unsure about the whole trans thing when they find out about it.

Unsure as in ‘we haven’t met many trans people’, not doubtful of its validity.

They’ll go to David to ask him (since he’s the queer one in the family), but Alexis proudly and confidently answers them, much to everyone’s shock and amazement.

David is especially impressed.

Alexis is the epitome of that ‘if I had a lameass boyfriend I would hype him up so much’ post.

You’re literally just some guy, but she introduces you as her boyfriend with so much pride.

She is so supportive of you.

She will not let you be down on yourself, or she’ll absolutely try her best.

She showers you with compliments on a regular day, and this quadruples if you feel particularly dysphoric.

It means a lot because she is completely sincere with everything she says, and she’s naturally very good at saying the right things to make you feel better, even if you might expect her to put her foot in her mouth.

If you’re unhappy with your style, she’ll be beyond excited to take you shopping for new clothes.

If you’re not comfortable going clothes shopping in a physical store, she’ll send you links to clothes she thinks will look good on you but also fit in with your desired style.

David will also gladly offer his assistance, since he considers himself an expert in men’s fashion.

But, they will both reluctantly shut up if their input proves unhelpful to you and goes against what you want to wear.

I’d like to think that most of the residents of Schitt’s Creek would be indifferent to you or supportive of you, but on the off chance that you encounter any transphobia, Alexis will come to your defence with an “um, excuse me?”

If you need a gender affirming haircut, she’ll look into trans-friendly hair stylists and barbers in the area.

If you’d like her to, she’ll accompany you to your appointment, and if you’re more passive, she’ll be assertive on your behalf, because sometimes hairdressers suck at listening to what trans clients want and she will fight for you to have your ideal haircut.

And, when you get the haircut, she’ll give you a kiss and tell you how handsome you look.

If you want to get top surgery, she’ll happily help you do research into different surgeons and look into how to help you when you’re recovering.

Basically, she’s already more than willing to spend half of her day on her phone, and she’s happy to spend a lot of that time looking into trans-related things for you.

It’s more than clear how much Alexis loves you.

She’s your biggest cheerleader, and she’ll always be there to support you.

At the end of the day, you’re her boyfriend, and that’s all that matters.

#alexis rose x reader #alexis rose #schitt's creek x reader #schitt's creek #x trans!reader #x trans reader #x transmasc!reader #x transmasc reader #x trans male!reader #x trans male reader #trans!reader #transmasc!reader #trans reader #transmasc reader #trans #transmasc #transgender #headcanons

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blackbutlerfandomnerddomain · 2 months

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In "Kalim's Harem", if our Sunshine Boy was a Trans Boy, what do you think each of the boys would react to when they found out?

AWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!

So I have a lot of TWST trans headcanons so first off I'll name my personal ones (reminder everyone these are my headcanons if you don't agree or like then that's fine, you have your thoughts I have mine)

Riddle is FtM transgender who I sometimes swap in headcanon as nonbinary

Ace if FtM transgender who just got his top surgery before NRC

Cater's Cater and we all should be happy for it ^w^

Both Jade and Floyd are Intersex

Azul's nonbinary to me (I dunno octopi's anatomy is weird and I love it)

Jamil's Nonbinary but didn't come out until after Chapter 6

Vil is a genderqueen GOD

Epel's FtM transgender

Neige's in the closet of questioning (I have always been open with headcanons of him from him being trans, aroace, vegan, secretly a bitch, so that's why I wrote it like that. He's still learning things outside scripts and knowing himself)

Idia I always view as questioning but doesn't really care about pronouns, just doesn't want to deal with the whole thing of picking where he is and coming out

Same for Ortho but Ortho's just happy being Ortho

Lilia's a nonbinary bad-ass FIGHT ME

And sadly I'm not going to use my OCs Arie and Giles in this or @gay-salt-amber's OCs Esther and Amyir for this ask since the tags are glitchy for me but Esther's a beautiful wonderful enby vampy and Amyir is one hella fine and sweet Genderfluid demon

NOW ONTO THE HEADCANONS!

I think it's safe to assume Jamil knew for years

Unless you want to go the route Jamil started as Kalim's servant "friend" after he started going by he/him

In Night Raven, Kalim was very happy to be himself, but that didn't stop the slight fear of changing and someone comments on his body somehow or if someone finds his T-Shots or binder

Once he started attending classes and club activities, he started to learn he's not the only one who's different, which ease his heart and mind a bit

If Jamil knew, Jamil helped Kalim is so much of the transitioning and being carefully, even being the one who'd have to tell the teachers about it for Kalim after Kalim gave him permission, just so something comes up they can know how to handle it (periods, a malfunction with his binder or packer, someone said something, etc.)

If Jamil doesn't know, Kalim feels HORRIBLE hiding such a huge thing from his best friend

Once he started dating his lovers he became very aware he needs to come out to them properly

He does at his dorm

They all hug him and thank him for telling him

They all make sure Kalim's comfortable and not being harassed or feeling discomfort

The main protectors: Jamil, Riddle, Leona, Floyd, Rook, Sebek, and Lilia

Silver and Deuce are the worrying partners over every small thing

Ace, Riddle, and Epel are always prepared for any form of discomfort and dysphoria when it comes, also Trey and Cater but that's thanks to being here so long

Malleus once threw a dude who commented on Kalim's binder one hot day. He didn't know what it was and was confused why he was yeeted

Rollo's a bit confused by the term but he does lots of research and Kalim's open for any questions he has

One time Kalim got a few whiskers on his chin and he eagerly showed it off and was showered by so many compliments

Lowkey inspired by a real thing with my friend, Kalim had to use the foam version of his T-Shots and luckily hasn't ran out yet

When Jamil came out Kalim went shopping with him to help ease him and show he has an ally

Kind of saucy but Chenya once felt bolt and ask Kalim what sexual things are okay with and that unlocked like 10 to 20 minutes of a deep conversation of the subject cause turns out Kalim never thought of that before

The explore it safely and done very scary yet strong search results on the internet, communication is key in the end my friends

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kenphobia · 1 year

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THIS IS HOME!

"It's just you and me in this world."

summary. when skipping math class becomes a little cry out session with yours truly, marjorine. ( drabble / 1.6k wc / read end notes / ns//fw accs dni )

contents. aged up / teens au (15+). transphobia (mentioned), gender dysphoria, child abandonment / abuse. reader is gn but implied as trans. relationship dynamic is somewhat romantic. might be ooc. the writer is delulu and wrote this at 2 am.

"Mars, we're going to be late for class."

"J-Just hold on a sec! I'm still getting the finishing touches down."

You never been the most patient person nor were you someone who'd hang out in the school bathrooms to avoid math class, but Marjorine was. And she hated math class.

You groaned, nearly flinching away from the blonde girl's touch as she went and wiped off the remaining smudges of her lipstick. Why are their lipstick stains? Marjorine simply needed someone to model her brand new lipsticks for her to know which ones fit her current outfits. She always had a knack for making things look good as they can be, after all.

Marjorine smiled, her eyes scrunched up in delight and stepped back to see you in your full glory. Your face felt strangely off from the layers and upon layers of makeup crowding your face, cheeks full of blush and lipa heavy in a shade of (color).

Though, you must admit that she did a great job not making you look somewhat good-looking with the makeup. You have no idea what kind of god has gifted her with such talents, but you kind of envy her for it.

Marjorine clapped her hands, "So what do you think?" She asked, waiting expectantly for answer. She bounced on her heels, clutching the back of your chair firmly.

You stared at the mirror for a couple of moments, occasionally tilting yout head from side to side to see every part of Marjorie's art piece (that is unfortunate you because someone else that isn't you deserves to have their face be dolled up).

It took some minutes before feeling your own face heating up from looking at yourself, the embarrassment just now seeping into you and shining a light on your cracks. "It looks.... I look great, actually. Thanks, Mars."

Marjorine nodded enthusiastically. "Aah, I'm so glad you liked it!"

Though, Marjorine was smiling and happy, something felt off. And as you look at her, her smile seem strain and her grip on the hairbrush never been tighter than before.

Silence inserted itself between the two of you like a heavy brick wall of ice. The distasteful smell of cleaning supplies filled the bathroom only made the sudden silent atmosphere bitter on your tongue.

Something felt sad about Marjorine for the past few days. There was just something in her eyes that you couldn't read properly. The gaze in her eyes foggy and distant, and her expression blank and distracted everytime she thought no one was looking, everytime you weren't 'looking'.

You gulped down the bitterness and turned to her. 'Hey, Marjorine? Are you ... Are you okay?"

Marjorine stopped, putting her hairbrush down on the sink's flat surface. You can't see her face in her reflection.

"... Mars?" You called out.

She turned to you, smiling but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm fine, (Name). There's nothing for you to worry about!" She reassured, but there was something about her words that felt off.

"Mars, I'm serious. Are you really okay?" You asked again, probbing the question further to you as you took a step forward. You watched as Marjorine took a step back.

"(Name), what are you—"

"You can't lie to me, Marjorine." You frowned, furrowing your brows. "You've been avoiding math class all week and hang out in the bathroom even if it meant breaking school regulations. And I know you wouldn't break the rules for makeup and stuff, so what's going on?"

Marjorine looked at you, shocked, as if you had just revealed her deepest, darkest secret to the whole school. A glossy glaze clouded her eyes as she patted a finger on them in hopes that it won't ruin her makeup.

"No, it's just— I can't." She mumbled, stepping back. Pushing herself away from you til she had backed herself to a corner. "It just hurts."

You opened your mouth, but you hesitated, inhaling a breath between your teeth. "What hurts?"

Something felt sad about Marjorine, you were so sure about it, and only now you were able to see through that cloudy look of hers.

She leaned on the wall with her gaze stuck to the floor. She clasped her hands together, rubbing them against each other in a circling motion. The bathroom suddenly became colder than it already was.

"I don't know. It's just," Marjorine paused, rubbing her eye carefully as to not mess up her eyeliner. "It just hurts. It hurts that they'd rather plan and host a funeral than learn a new name. It hurts that I have to do so much just so people would know who I am, people that probably wouldn't care in the end of it all."

"Mars..." You gently call out. You reached your hands but hesitated, an uncomfortable tightness formed and binded your body in place.

An aching prickled Marjorine's eyes. And no matter how much she tries to save the makeup she tried so hard to put on, it did nothing against the tears pouring out of her tear ducts. "I wanna be just like you, (Name). You're just so comfortable in your own skin and everyone understands who you are, everyone knows who you are. Sometimes, I just wish I was fine with being a boy but I just can't. I don't want to be him, I want to be me."

At this point in time, Marjorine was already sitting on the bathroom floor and had her arms wrapped around her legs, hugging them protectively against her chest. You stood there silently, watching as the blonde girl break out into a fit of tears and dysphoria.

You sighed and sat with her down on the floor. You weren't sure how clean this bathroom is, and any other day you wouldn't choose to rest your ass on the grimey tiles, but you'd just do anything for Marjorine.

"Mars... Marjorine." You called out to her, your voice as soft and gentle as it could possibly be. You rested her hand on her arm and grabbed her attention quickly.

She turned to you with mascara running down her face, her lipstick smudged across her cheek and her hair has become a tangled mess. You wouldn't loudly admit, but she was still beautiful even if she looked like this. She's still your Marjorine.

"You know, I... I wasn't comfortable with myself back then too." You began, pausing slightly to think about your word choices correctly. "To be honest, I wasn't happy with the way I was before. And It took me a while as well to let people learn my name, know who and what I am."

Marjorine sniffed, rubbing tears away to only smudge her mascara more. "Y-You did?" She hiccuped.

You nodded. "During those times, I was helpless. And weak. I didn't have anyone who understood and supported me, not even my own parents. No matter how much I tried, they still call me ... that. They still I'm them."

"And you d-don't want to be t-them, right?" Marjorine mumbles. You only nod at her question and scoot closer to her, feeling her head lean on your shoulders.

"Never in my life had I want to be them, and I had no choice but to play along. My parents always preferred them over me, they'd rather kick me out than understand that they're no longer here. And it hurts." You rambled on, turning your head up once you felt the prickling sensation in your tear ducts.

"It hurts a lot." Marjorine had rested her hand in yours, squeezing it firmly in her hold. "I guess you weren't always comfortable as I thought you were."

"Not all of us would be comfortable being stuck in a body that doesn't align with how we actually feel." You chuckled, squeezing Marjorine's hand back. "But I'm quite jealous of you, you know?"

Marjorine turned her head up to you, furrowing her brows. "Jealous? Of me?"

"Yeah. In some way, I was jealous." You scratched your arm, trying to get rid of an itch that never had existed in the first place. "You have people who support you. Like Wendy, Bebe, Kenny... They're there for you, you know? I never had something like that."

"Oh." Marjorine merely said.

"Including me too." You grinned, blinking back the tears as you turned to face her. You held her face adoringly and used your thumbs to wipe away running mix of mascara and drying tears. "So stop thinking about your parents, stop thinking about that transphobic fat ass in your math class and just stop thinking about what a stranger would think about you. You're you and there's nothing anyone can about it."

Marjorine sniffed, stuffing her face into your palms as more tears welled in her eyes. "Thank you, (Name). I— I really m-mean that." She sobbed. "I'm a-also here for you! Supporting y-you just— just like you're s-supporting me."

Gently, you pecked a kiss on her forehead before pulling her up from the floor. You were careful as to not pull her muscle and brought her to the sink. "It's no big deal, Mars. Thanks for being by my side."

You flicked the tap on, water gushing out of the faucet immediately as you did. You wet your hands and began washing off the ruined makeup from Marjorine's face, as she laughed and giggled in your ever so tightening hold. You squeezed her cheeks.

"Come on, just stand still!" You whined, trying to avoid poking her eye on accident.

"But it tickles—!" Her words were cut off as you poked the side of her stomach, a pained gasp escaping her mouth in an instant. "Now that just hurts!"

"Maybe I wouldn't have done it if you just stayed still >:("

"I— How did you do that??"

After several minutes of laughing, and poking and playful fighting, you managed to clean Marjorine up. She stared at the mirror with not much of a though behind her eyes and patted her cheeks.

There's a slight moment of silence as the two of stood around in that bathroom and the realization of how much you two wasted time in here just now settled in you. But the running water and the hollow emptiness of the stalls managed to keep that realization at bay.

"Hey, (Name)?" She called out.

"Yeah? What is it?"

"Do I... Do I still look feminine enough without makeup? Don't I look, you know, boyish?" Marjorine asked, laughing awkwardly at the end as she turned to you. She met your eyes for a couple of seconds before turning back go the mirror. "I just... I just want to know."

"Well, in my opinion, it doesn't matter if you're feminine or not, you're still Marjorine." You shrugged. You walked closer to her and wrapped your arms around her shoulders, resting your chin on the top of her head. "And there's no such thing as 'being feminine enough'. Do you have to be feminine to qualify as a girl?"

Marjorine sucked in a breath, hesitant. "I— No. I suppose not. I mean, there are masculine girls and they're still girls, right?"

"That's right." You hunmed in agreement, combing your fingers through her blonde locks. You buried your nose into her hair, instantly smelling the sweet cherry shampoo you had given her a few days ago (It was hello kitty themed too). "But if you want my opinion, then I'd say you're Marjorine enough to be Marjorine."

At this, she rolled her eyes and giggled. "Fine, fine. Whatever you say, (Name). Let's go to class before a teacher finds out about us skipping math class."

You slipped your hands into Marjorine's, earning a surprised look from the girl but she only smiled and faintly reddened at your action. You squeezed her hand and she squeezed back, a silent comfort that only the two of you knew about.

The water had stopped gushing as you turned off the faucet and the halls behind those doors sparkled to life with the clammering and thumping of footsteps.

"Yeah, let's go."

notes. GOD FUCKING FINALLY!!! I WROTE SOMETHING THIS MONTH. sorry for the radio silence i've been givign you all 😔 i suddenly lost interest in welcome home after watching too many south park tiktok clips so yeah

but dw!! i'm getting back in welcome home bit by bit, i just won't be focusing on it too much anymore :]] also!! the art is by me btw! will posting it soon on my art sideblog, @/canvashboy

tbh im more comfortable writing abt the main girls than the main boys since i feel i wouldn't get much blacklash if wrote the girlies a bit ooc.... you can request the main boys tho

speaking of requests!!! my inbox is open 24/7 for any south park requests. check out this post for my boundaries and etc etc.

#writing log!#south park x reader #marjorine stotch x reader #butters stotch x reader #<- for reach only tbh

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x-atlas-x · 1 year

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Okay, um, so the trans Atem fic. Tell me *everything* about it, I want to know so bad—

Pretty please? 🥺👉👈

Of course! Thank you so much for asking, I'm really happy that you're so interested in it/my other projects!! <33 This one got hella long, so I deeply apologize about that :,)

I've barely talked about this project of mine because I chose to publish my Unhealthy series instead, which features trans Yugi and non-binary Atem. I always get self-conscious about posting multiple fics where the characters aren't cis out of sheer fear that nobody will enjoy them (or accuse me of feminizing/sexualizing, which is never the case).

This story revolves around Yugi heading to school, only to discover there's a new student (Atem) there that had moved from Egypt over the summer. Immediately, the both of them get off on the wrong foot, bashing heads and being rude to each other. It's not until Atem walks into Yugi's grandpa's game shop presenting as a male that things start to take a positive turn.

Yugi reassures Atem that he won't share his secret about him being trans, promising to not out him. They exchange numbers and begin talking with each other, getting closer through text messages, phone calls, and sharing most of their school classes.

Atem, unfortunately, has extremely strict parents and he has to keep his secret from them. He has to attend fancy, preppy events for their exhibitions at the museum with a date (who winds up being Kaiba, as they've made a deal to always be each other's date for them).

During one of these events, Atem has a hard time dealing with dysphoria and being referred to with feminine terms/pronouns. He calls Yugi and begs him to get him out of there and, of course, Yugi comes to his rescue, dragging him off to a random park nearby. They start talking and Atem brings up the fact that he needs a date for the next event (Kaiba has something interfering) and Yugi happily agrees to go with him.

Both of them grow closer until the event comes up and one of Atem's enemies shows up - Akefia (aka, TKB, yeah we're using Akefia). He's always held Atem being trans over his head as blackmail, using it for sexual endeavors or else he'd tell Atem's parents. At the event, Atem refuses to give in. Things start to go terribly wrong from there. (At this point, I should clarify that most of the characters are 18 and all in their final year of high school).

Akefia exposes Atem in front of everyone at the event, including his parents. Atem is horrified and ashamed and rushes out of the place, Yugi quick to follow him. Atem comes to the realization that he's going to be kicked out of his own home and Yugi offers to let him stay with him.

The rest becomes Atem getting comfortable enough to come out and openly identify as a boy, starting a relationship with Yugi, and Yugi facing his own problems (because I'm not gonna make Atem have all the problems, we're an equal distribution community here).

I stopped when the story reached December and Christmas time because for some reason, I can't write about Christmas. I don't know why, it's a curse. I've always bounced back and forth, coming back to work on it occasionally, but... Even the notes that I do have for it just aren't helping me out.

The reason why I started this fic was to personally help me when I was unsure whether I identified as trans or not. It was at a time when I finally felt comfortable to start going by a different name (which never happens in this story, but y'know-), coming out to some of my friends about it, and working on openly expressing my identity.

I wrote it during a dark time/period of my life, which is why I've been so hesitant to work on it or post anything of it. I've debated rewriting it, which seems to be the issue with every project I have. I think that's why I tend to stick to shorter projects since I have a difficult time handling bigger ones (that's what she said).

Anyways, I, uh, hope you enjoyed this rambling! You asked for everything and I do indeed deliver >:)

#atlas answers #wow you're just dragging all my projects out of me #good maybe i'll get back to one of them-#if you want more details or a snippet uh...#you can always message me 👀#i'm happy to discuss more #atlas is rambling again

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uncanny-tranny · 1 year

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Hello :) I've followed you for a long time now, and before I start I just wanted to say that it's an absolute pleasure every time you are on my dash. You made me feel much less alone as a confused teen.

Now onto my sorta question/problem. I've known that I am trans since I was 14. Of course, there have been ups and downs, moments where I am less sure of myself, but I always come back to it. Since cutting my hair and presenting mostly masculine, I've never wanted to go back. I'm 18 now and just finished my first semester of college. I had originally planned to come out to my mom sometime between the 3 days of her dropping me off at college and classes beginning. Instead, I woke up the first day after she dropped me off absolutely petrified to tell her, and wasn't able to calm down until I decided to hold off until later. But now that I've finished my first semester, I still feel very unsure. She's not liberal, but not outwardly conservative either. It's more under the surface. Definitely does not understand/fully respect trans people. Her relatives are much worse and openly transphobic/homophobic. I'm incredibly close to her, she's really the only family I feel loves and respects me. I'm just so scared that coming out will ruin our relationship. Like if she rejects me, I'm worried I'll like implode or something. But dysphoria has been getting worse, I feel like I can't really put myself out there at college because I'm using the wrong name and being gendered incorrectly. It's why I've barely made any friends, and haven't had any sort of romantic prospects. I constantly find myself wishing I had a button that would have made me born male just so I don't have to gamble my relationship with her to be myself. I don't really have much of a question, just kind of wanted to get it off my chest to another trans person because I unfortunately don't have many of those in my life.

I'm going to preface this by saying that I was in a very similar situation as you are when I was a bit younger. My family is also the same way, but they're very religious and conservative. I prioritized my relationship with my dad, so despite most of my family being judgemental to this day, I personally don't care about them much if this is the straw that breaks their back.

When I came out to my dad, he was definitely in the same place it seems you mother is in. He didn't understand much of anything, and I was really scared to come out to him for the same reasons you did. I told him in-person, but I also wrote many letters, because I found that it's much easier when you're able to edit what you say before you say it. He's absolutely not been a perfect supportive parent, and it took years of conversation before he could get to where he is now.

I think what I'm getting at is that our parents also mature. My dad seven years ago is not the same person he was. He's matured a lot since I've come out and I've grown on my own, but he's also matured since my brothers have grown, too. I can't predict what your mother is like, but I hope she is willing to grow with you. The beautiful thing about transition is that it doesn't just affect you; you aren't the only person who grows and changes. The people around you also tend to grow and change when they see just how much you blossom.

So I hope she allows herself to grow with you. You are her child, yes, but you are also a person, and it's so beautiful to see people grow and change and develop. I know this whole process is truly daunting. I have no idea how I even had the ability to come out. But I also know just how much a relationship can flourish after, even if there are major bumps or heartaches at first.

#ask #anon #trans #transgender #lgbt #lgbtq #ftm #mtf #nonbinary #i won't get into some of the stuff my dad has done but he has matured beyond that...#...i hope including my experiences might help? i just read through what you were talking about and it reminded me of stuff...#...and sometimes it is helpful when other people relate with your problems. i'm definitely not trying to downplay how you feel...#...just know you aren't alone in this #i'm glad you reached out anon #and i'm honoured you entrusted this with me #this too shall pass <3

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shaftking · 1 year

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https://www.tumblr.com/clearlyyoudontownanairfryer/706320605175267329/stop-erasing-peoples-aromantic-identities-to

Posts like this just remind me of how illogical inclusionists are. Being aromantic alone doesn’t make someone LGBT. What is even the point of having cishet people be apart of the community when the whole point of it is to unite against oppression based on same sex attraction and gender dysphoria in pursuit of achieving rights and acceptance? This is why including the “A” in the initlialsm doesn’t make sense. Why can’t these people just stick with AVEN? This reminds me of one time I had a class assignment to write about LGBT representation in video games, and one person exclusively wrote about aroace stuff instead of actual LGBT identities 💀 Inclusionists’ priorities are so out of wack, man. 😔

I have some mixed feelings about the split attraction model on a good day, and usually only think it actually works for asexuals specifying who their dating pool is (ie gay asexual only dating men). But usually my opinion is that it’s just something that enables a lot of internalized homophobia/biphobia and allows cishets that get crushes infrequently to think they have the same place in the LGBT community as a gay or trans person. (Newsflash: they don’t.)

The original A in LGBTQA was for allies and was only infrequently included because while it’s great to have non-LGBT people supporting LGBT people, they’re still not technically a part of the community as far as who it is meant to benefit. As far as AVEN, the fact is that asexuals destroyed it and decided to try and rewrite history to claim they were always a part of the LGBT. It had its problems, but instead of sticking around and trying to fix it, they jumped ship and started doing historical revisionism.

The fact is that a LGBT activism is incompatible with activism for asexuals a lot of the time. There might be some overlap in goals or experiences, but I could say the same for a lot of marginalized groups and LGBT. This doesn’t mean that disabled people are LGBT, or racial minorities, or polygamous people, or people who do BDSM, or religious minorities, or furries, or literally any other groups with a minutia of overlap. LGBT is not just a blanket group to throw in anyone who society finds weird or unusual, it is for lesbians, gay, bisexuals, and transsexuals, specifically on the basis of those demographic features in order to gain rights and tolerance, if not acceptance.

#ask

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chaotic-history · 1 year

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Source? I'm genuinely asking. Everyone is talking about JKR being a terf but they never provide sources. I've tried looking myself and found no such thing. What has she actually said or written???? (Again, genuinely asking. In my country nobody knows what she's up to and she's irrelant. Due to cultural and language barrier I'm struggling to find it and want to be fully informed)

Hey Anon,

I'm going to assume this ask is in good faith. There's a lot of online articles about Rowling's transphobia, but I've gone through and found some of the more obvious examples of it.

First of all, she said she was "triggered" (yes, she actually used that word) by hearing about Scotland's gender recognition bill, which just allowed for lowering the age for applying for a Gender Recognition certificate to 16 instead of 18, removing the requirements to have lived and been out for 2 years as your correct gender and to have a medical diagnosis for gender dysphoria. As Rowling puts it, it means "that all a man needs to ‘become a woman’ is to say he’s one". Which of course she's criticizing, but that's exactly why the bill is good for trans people. Only an incredibly miniscule percentage of people detransition, and an even smaller due to genuinely going back to identifying as their agab. To be triggered by someone being acknowledged as what they say their gender identity is is incredibly transphobic. She also goes on to say that the government is "playing fast and loose with womens and girls' safety" by doing this. But literally nothing is changing here except a person's legal gender identity. If it's the bathroom thing, then anyone can walk into any bathroom anyways, it's not like anyone is out there checking what the govt says your gender is.

In the same article (that she wrote) she says this: "It would be so much easier to tweet the approved hashtags – because of course trans rights are human rights and of course trans lives matter – scoop up the woke cookies and bask in a virtue-signalling afterglow. There’s joy, relief and safety in conformity." ...Because apparently supporting trans people is just stupid woke nonsense that people are forced to do in order to conform, as though trans people aren't being literally fucking murdered just for being brave enough to be themselves.

Then of course there's this: "I refuse to bow down to a movement that I believe is doing demonstrable harm in seeking to erode ‘woman’ as a political and biological class and offering cover to predators like few before it" because what's a terf without making broad statements that all trans women are just sexual predators? Also she's very conveniently ignoring all of the involvement trans women have had in the feminist movement.

She also described transitioning in a tweet as "conversion therapy for young gay people" that they were somehow being forced into, despite the fact that gender affirming surgery and hormones often take incredibly long to get access to and have about a billion hurdles to jump through in order to even be considered for it. No one is forcing young people into transitioning, and like I already mentioned, 98% of trans people don't regret medically transitioning, and only ~.4% regret it for reasons outside of facing bigotry for it. The whole narrative that young confused kids are being pushed into transitioning is literally just a way to invalidate young trans men, because there is absolutely zero evidence behind it. She also writes that "Many health professionals are concerned that young people struggling with their mental health are being shunted towards hormones and surgery when this may not be in their best interests.” Which. No. No health professional who actually knows anything about trans people is concerned about this, because like I said, it is not happening. Anywhere. Under any circumstances. There are people who DIY hormones through incredibly dangerous means because they can't get access to them. There are people who have been on waiting lists for 3+ years. There are people who kill themselves because they can't access hormones. Absolutely no one is being 'shunted towards' them.

And then of course she wrote Trouble Blood, about a male serial killer who dresses up as women to kill cis women. Okay, it's been done before, but in context with everything else Rowling's said, her message is pretty clear, and it's that she sees trans women as predators who only transition to prey on cis women.

Eddie Redmayne, Emma Watson, and Daniel Radcliffe have all spoken out against Rowling's transphobia, and Redmayne said that "As someone who has worked with both J.K. Rowling and members of the trans community, I wanted to make it absolutely clear where I stand. I disagree with Jo’s comments. Trans women are women, trans men are men and non-binary identities are valid." These are people who have worked closely with her, and they're acknowledging that her beliefs are incredibly transphobic.

So yeah. She's absolutely a terf, and the things I've compiled here are just a few examples, if you look up "jkr transphobia" I'm sure you can find many more. Or just read her tweets, it's not hard to find.

All the quotes are from her tweets or her personal website.

#jkr

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imfiguringitoutlovely · 3 years

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You know what you should write? A Bakugou x trans male headcannon thingy(he/him pronouns). Why? No reason. I’m definitely not trans or anything. Nope.

bakugou with his amazing fantastic handsome absolutely perfect boyfriend who is trans

pairing: katsuki bakugou x male!reader (he/him)

genre: fluff, mega comfort

warnings: mentions of dysphoria

author's notes: yeah no bro ofc like no reason, i get you... i mean like. i mean no, i don't bc it's not like im trans or nb or anything nah bc... that's...kinda... sussy, yk? and im not sussy. i mean like. they/them isn't sussy. like. obviously...

i wrote this as someone who "doesn't pass" (which is so dumb, can we just ask ppls pronouns, it's not that hard 😩)

okay i mean it when i say it that the bakusquad are just... the best allies tbh (mostly bc they're all pretty uh... 🍐🥥🍐🍊🍐🍅🍐🍍🍑🥥...yknow-)

also if that upset you, you should go bc you're just mad that i'm right. they all bond over their involvement with the community.

that's why, when you came along, you kind of just fit in. not only were you able to handle and return the chaotic energy, but you all stood together (not to say anyone in class 1-a is not at least an ally, just that bakusquad is probably the most involved in the culture imo).

you caught bakugou's eyes, too, and it really wasn't very long until you two were official. it wasn't really said out loud, clearly stated, but one time he said 'i wouldnt mind being your boyfriend, i guess' and you two have been madly in love and close since.

seriously, just get married omg disaster gays 😩🏳️‍🌈

but in all seriousness, when you're ready to tell him you're trans, he's extremely supportive.

"thanks for letting me know. he-him?" he's still kind of grumbling, but it's much softer than usual.

you kinda stumble over what to say bc what? he's just... well, okay-

asks if there's anyone he should be more careful w your pronouns around, more specifically your parents.

if they're not accepting, it takes him every bit of strength and yours combines to stop him from blowing them up on the spot 💀

is kinda passive aggressive to them bc of it,, you have to remind him to bring it in a little at times

insists on keeping open communication, that no matter what name or pronouns or any label you go by, he's gonma support you.

"don't go and get all quiet like that nerd-"

"midoriya-?"

"yeah, deku. tell me how you really feel, i'm not some idiot loser, i'll understand-!!"

DOES HIS RESEARCH AS SOON AS YOU TELL HIM

he's very educated, but would rather go over everything to make sure he uses the proper and respectful terminology when asking you questions about what you're comfortable with

NO, he will not look at "scientific articles" or anything that's meant to "justify" or devalue your existence. he loves you, and if he could, honestly, he'd attack and take down anyone who questions your identity. he wants to understand how to respect it; it's not his business as to why you choose your labels.

YES, HE ASKS WHAT YOU'RE COMFORTABLE WITH

he understands that everyone experiences gender identity differently and doesn't want you to feel like you're not being heard as an individual.

one day he goes up to you, right, and when he's sure it's just you two talking (he doesn't want to have a public convo abt it because it's nobody else's business unless you decide it is) starts asking about boundaries.

"look, dork, i know i'm basically a god to all this planet's extras, but i can't really read minds and i don't want to pretend that i can. is there anything that you're uncomfortable with me saying or doing?'

"like...with...?"

"like with nicknames, titles...pet...names..."

"what was that last one-?"

"DON'T PUSH IT, DORK-!!"

if you're uncomfortable with him correcting other people for you when you're around, he won't. he knows that Identity is a really personal thing, and that he can get really really heated, so he'll let you tell him how to handle those situations.

as for when you're not around... he can't promise there won't be a body to hide if someone intentionally misgenders you, honestly.

PET NAMES GO BRRR (name: reason)

idiot: he's bakugou

dumbass: he's bakugou

dork: he's bakugou, and this is used often times w a more affectionate/admiring tone

jerk: he's bakugou, and he uses this mostly when he gets flustered bc it's a lil softer FKDKDK

he-man: (more in private) he will only use this if you let him. he hated people, obv, and he knows there's been people who call you a she-he (this totally isn't personal comfort for when i was going by he/him, not at all this isn't a traums response-). after people misgender you, if it's intentional, he'll often be near you and grumble about how they have no fucking right to talk shit about his he-man 😤

prince: once. it was a mocking thing at first because you were dramatically complaining about how boring a lesson was. but then. he noticed how flustered it got you.

king: well, "my king". mostly when he's being (on SUPER SUPER SUPER rare occasions) soft and talking about your future together. ("i don't wanna rule an entire world alone, so you're going to be my king. it's not a suggestion.")

handsome: he'll also call you "pretty" if you let him (bc he lives w the mantra that gender has nothing to do w compliments (unless you're uncomfy ofc)). both are mostly in private, though he'll occasionally call you handsome if he notices you maybe getting lost in your own head.

WHEN YOU'RE DYSPHORIC

he doesn't know gender dysphoria first hand, but he's read and heard about how horrible it can be. he also understands that it's different for everyone, and fully supports any SAFE way you choose to deal with it.

keyword: SAFE

if you bind during training, or for longer than safe, he will scold you. not publicly, ofc, but he'll pull you aside or even drag you to the bathroom or locker room once he notices.

if you don't bind, cool. how you present is none of his business, he finds you hot no matter what tbh

when it gets worse, he softens up a lot more when it comes to physical affection. he's not really comfortable with public affection as much, but he'll hold your hand more, pull you close when you sit next to him, and play with your hair from time to time.

in private, he'll cuddle you if you want. if not, he's all good with laying down next to you and being present for you.

pms? he'll do anything at all to make you comfortable (another thing he'll straight up ask you about so he knows how to keep you comfortable)

he uses a lot of pet names, ones that you're most comfortable with. heck, one time he straight up went kirishima-mode and told you how fuckin manly you are.

it's hard for him to directly compliment or be verbally affectionate, but he tries bc he fuckin loves you omg-

in short, you're the love of his life and he'll do anything for you tbh HRJDN-

#x male reader #xmale!readerblog #fanfic #my hero academia #mha x male reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x male reader #katsuki bakugo headcanons #bnha bakugou #bakugou x y/n #bakugou fluff #mha bakugou #read with me lovelies

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luckyladylily · 2 years

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Speaking of radical feminism among trans women, if that's okay -- I was talking to a friend of mine the other day (I'm a trans man, she's a trans woman) and she mentioned how she'd seen people in the transfem spaces she's in talking about trans men like "I don't understand why anyone would give up being a woman", and how it was jarring to her because her immediate understanding was "oh yeah, they would want to give it up because of dysphoria, like I had about being a man". And I'm still thinking about it now because it's a really underrecognised way of breaking a basic connection between different trans people! Instead of acknowledging dysphoria as a shared-but-different experience it's a denial of the importance of dysphoria and a reframing of the issue as about someone being the "good" gender or not :/

(I don't think you need dysphoria to be trans, and it isn't the only connection between trans people, but it's a connection and denying its impact on trans men in favour of radfem narratives is bad)

Yeah, this is something that has been happening for a while but its getting more and more common among people who don't think of themselves as radfem or trans exclusionary.

I wrote that post about trans women adopting radfem ideas before the Roe v Wade news, and I've written other posts that are less combative in the past. This is exactly where trans mascs have been saying this is heading.

There has especially been a rapid increase since the Roe v Wade news has come out, including a significant increase in the insistence that we need to abandon reproductive rights and healthcare for trans mascs in an attempt to make it easier to secure reproductive rights and healthcare for cis women. There have also been people saying that trans men are "speaking over" trans and cis women about women's issues if they try to insist that they not be abandoned.

It has by far been more coming from cis people, especially cis women, but there are also trans women who are pushing these ideas. But then again cis women outnumber trans women around three hundred to one, and cis people in the LGB community outnumber trans women by at least twenty to one. Simply by statistics we would expect cis people to far, far outweigh the amount of trans people talking about this, so we don't actually know if trans women are adopting these views at lower rates than cis people.

These ideas are all text book radfem rhetoric. Radfems have been saying this exact thing for 50 years, and its deeply prejudice. There have been people among progressive communities frequently disparaging all men as a group, another radfem classic. Radfems have always targeted trans mascs as well as trans femmes, frankly we just ignore it.

It wont stop there. We are one step away from people like you talk about in your ask declaring trans mascs, both trans men and NBs, being gender/class traitors. Its already happening among cis women that consider themselves trans inclusive, but I have not personally seen it from trans women. I would not be surprised in the least to find a few examples though.

After that we end up with blatant terf behavior that is maybe not directly violent but is systematically violent, like attempts to strip trans mascs of rights similar to how JKR is targeting trans women. After that direct and escalating violence like the worst of terfs.

This is not necessarily strictly linear - some will reach the direct violence stage while others are still in the stage of demanding trans mascs voluntarily give up their rights, for example. It is possible that there are already "trans inclusive" people violent against trans men and trans mascs. I have not seen it myself, but I am not the target.

Its a pattern of radicalization that has repeated itself several times in progressive/queer communities. It isn't even hard to see if you are looking for it at all.

As for why I would call these people, even trans women, who adopt these trans masc exclusionary ideas terfs is because they are. They exclude trans people from their feminsim using radfem ideas as a justification. The only difference is they are selective about how the exclude trans people.

I guess you could add a "selectively" on the front of that to make sterfs, but I find no need to make that distinction. If a person excludes trans people, any trans people, with radfem ideas as justification they are terfs. That includes trans women. If they don't want to be called terfs they should stop being terfs. Simple as that.

#If I messed up on terms for trans mascs I am sorry #I am bad at that sort of thing #and I am still confused by the correct language #but I hope people understand I am without reservation standing by the trans men and trans masc communities on this issue

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thekisforkeats · 3 years

Text

Love Languages

Info: The Magnus Archives, JonMartin, rated T probably for swears. Canon-Compliant. Set post-MAG 22, with a coda post-MAG 159. Everyone is ND and everyone is trans because that’s just how my personal S1 Archives gang rolls.

CWs: Mentions of ableism and Martin’s mother. I’d say canon-typical worms but the worms don’t really come up except in passing.

I do not know anything about BSL, so I did not try to describe the signs.

Summary: A love language is not just about how you best show love and affection; it is also about the ways you best receive love and affection. And so, for someone like Martin, who shows love by going out of his way to help others, someone going out of their way to help him, well. What better way for him to realize just how loved he is?

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

The first time Martin went completely non-verbal after starting work in the Archives, it was the morning after giving Jon the statement about Jane Prentiss.

It wasn’t a surprising development, really. Martin didn’t go fully non-verbal that often, but when he did it was almost always a thing that started in the morning and lasted most of the day. Sometimes it wore off by the time he went to bed, sometimes it lasted until the next morning.

After his mother’s diagnosis, he’d been unable to speak for an entire week. That hadn’t gone over well--as much as his mother wanted him to be quiet, she didn’t like the “silent treatment,” as she called it.

Martin hated that she’d called it that, as though his non-verbal episodes were anything he did on purpose. Some days talking just felt like a chore; those days he could get by only forcing words out when he had to. But some days, the worst days, he just couldn’t talk. He could understand other people just fine, he could make noises, sometimes he could even hum. And he could definitely read and write. But speaking words, aloud? No. He could not speak, on these days, however much he may have wanted to.

As Martin grew older and learned more about himself, he learned words and reasons and coping mechanisms. He realized that some of the problem came from dysphoria and the longer he was on hormones the less often it happened. He realized that he was autistic (even if he never got diagnosed), and learned how to handle the episodes that still occurred. He took sign languages classes because it was a good and useful thing to know regardless, to be able to communicate with more people.

As many Deaf people had learned before Martin, he’d found himself in plenty of situations when nobody around him knew BSL, so he’d found a phone app that let him type out things he wanted to say and repeated them in a tinny, mechanical voice. Feminine, but he found it didn’t cause dysphoria; it wasn’t his voice. It was the app speaking for him, a robot lady translating his words.

Martin was fairly certain he was going to need the robot lady to speak for him today, and he was dreading the whole idea. The app got him a range of reactions from scorn to derision to faux sympathy. The last time he’d done so at work, the Institute library staff had regarded him with such pity that he’d called in sick the two other times it had happened since.

He’d woken early, because he was always awake fairly early, to ensure he looked presentable and got to work on time. He did not want Jonathan “Crisply Professional At All Times” Sims giving him that look again. The particular look that was “I highly disapprove of your sartorial choices but I’m not going to get into it right now because I have so very much else to do. Nonetheless, if I could fire you for what you’re wearing I would.”

Jon had a lot of looks. Martin fervently wished he could stop categorizing them; he very much disliked his boss, and very much wanted to stop thinking about Jon quite as much as he did.

Jon was attractive, that much Martin had noticed the first day he’d come in, with a jawline Martin would’ve loved to trace with his fingers, eyes sharp and deep and intelligent, salt-and-pepper hair that Martin would have tangled his fingers in gladly.

Except, of course, that Jon was also a prick who didn’t like Martin one bit and made that very clear. He’d put down on record that he thought Martin would “contribute nothing but delays.” Martin was not such a sucker for punishment that he would put up with someone who hated him just for a pretty face. The tiny potential blossom of a crush had been, well, crushed five seconds after it had poked its head above ground, by Jon’s declaration that he could dismiss Martin if he didn’t resolve the “dog situation” immediately.

Martin counted his lucky stars every day that Jon had not, in fact, dismissed him, despite having had to deal with a doggy mess. The luck was really in having Tim around, Martin figured; Jon actually seemed fond of Tim, and the other man had managed to smooth the entire situation over.

Martin had fallen asleep last night thinking about the new look Jon had given him yesterday: concerned. Truly, genuinely concerned, which had rather taken Martin aback. He’d been certain Jon wouldn’t believe him, would scoff and roll his eyes at the entire statement, and instead he’d just looked… concerned.

And then Jon had offered Martin the cot that he’d woken up in this morning.

It wasn’t the look of concern that had Martin non-verbal, though; of that he was certain. It was the stress of the last two weeks, and dumping out the statement yesterday, and all the whirl of figuring out how to live in the Archives. Jon’s insistence on going with him to pick up basics with a toothbrush at the convenience store, and then coming back to be sure he was okay. Jon finding clean sheets and discussing how he’d do his laundry. Jon had expensed clothing bought online to the Institute, including next-day shipping, because he’d “lost access to his flat and thus his wardrobe in the line of duty.” It had all been bewildering and overwhelming and it was no real surprise that Martin was in the state he found himself when he woke.

Martin had known as soon as he’d opened his eyes. It was just there, the feeling of nope can’t talk today. He’d pulled on his binder and the same clothing he’d worn the day before and then fumbled around for his phone. Which… he didn’t have. The damn worm-hive-lady had stolen it from him. Well, shit.

He managed to avoid having to figure out how to talk while he went out to get breakfast, just pointing at a scone in the display and smiling at the guy behind the counter as if he wasn’t secretly irritated by the price of everything in Chelsea. By the time Martin got back, Jon was already in his office, so thank God he’d avoided that awkward interaction. He went to make himself tea, and had his breakfast in the breakroom, and brushed his teeth, and then went to get started on…

Wait. He didn’t even know what they were working on right now.

Well, he wasn’t going to bother Jon about it; however nice he’d been last night it surely must have worn off by now, and Martin had no interest in summoning one of his boss’ looks this early in the morning. Normally he’d still be on his commute at this hour.

After a moment’s thought, he went to go see what they’d recorded in his absence, and soon had a stack of statements on his desk. They’d gotten through five statements in the two weeks he’d been gone. Maybe Jon was right. Maybe Martin did contribute “nothing but delays.”

Pushing the thought aside, Martin focused on listening to the tapes, and was just finishing up listening to the second half of Father Edwin Burroughs’ statement when Tim came into the shared office the assistants used.

“Hey, you’re in early. You get the email?”

Martin raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

Tim snorted. “Jon claims he’s got something to warn us about, something that ‘won’t parse properly through digital means.’” He rolled his eyes. “Which is Jon-speak for ‘it’s a weird thing and I don’t want to admit it’s a weird thing because I have to keep my skeptic hat on to preserve my self-image.”

Martin chuckled in solidarity, then gestured toward the door to Jon’s office, to indicate that’s where their boss was.

“Not coming?” Tim asked, his own eyebrow raised. When Martin shrugged, he said, “Well, I guess if you didn’t get the email…” Tim also shrugged, then said, “Guess I’d better get it over with. Wish me luck!”

Martin gave him a thumbs up.

When Sasha came in, Martin silently directed her to Jon’s office as well, then heaved a sigh of relief. He hadn’t had to explain being non-verbal at all yet, and it was already nine o’clock. Maybe if he was lucky, Jon would warn them off talking to him and he’d manage to make it the entire day without having to explain the whole “non-verbal” business to anyone he saw on a regular basis.

Alas, it was barely thirty minutes later that Tim and Sasha returned to talk to him, both wearing expressions of mingled concern and guilt. When they spoke it was a flood of the usual, expected platitudes:

“We’re so sorry!”

“We didn’t know!”

“Are you okay??”

And such like.

Martin shrugged and nodded and shook his head in all the right places, and evidently Jon had played them the tape of his statement so he didn’t have to explain it all again (thank God), and he thought maybe, maybe he could even figure out what statement they were working on right now if he just listened to their chatter after they were done with the niceties, but then…

Well. Then Timothy Stoker happened.

Which is to say, Tim actually looked at Martin, and said, “You’re being awfully quiet. You sure you’re okay?”

And then he and Sasha just… sat there, looking at him expectantly.

Martin sighed and reached for a piece of scrap paper and wrote, I’m autistic and sometimes I go non-verbal. Today’s one of those days, but I don’t have my phone anymore, so no communication app.

As he held up the paper so the others could read the words, Martin braced himself for the ensuing reactions. Pity, probably, like those in the Institute library, and he couldn’t even call in sick to avoid it; he’d rather have scorn and derision. At least those reactions were honest.

What he got from them was not pity, however, nor even scorn.

Sasha hummed. “Autism explains a lot, actually. Don’t worry, it’s not a problem.”

Tim grinned and clapped Martin on the shoulder. “Yeah, why didn’t you just say so? It’s fine, you’ve been through an ordeal. And so you know--you’re hardly the only neurodivergent in the Archives.”

Martin blinked at Tim, then wrote: Wait, what? Who…?

“Would you believe me if I said all of us?” Tim said with a grin. “I have ADD, Jon’s… well… he’s Jon, and as for Sasha…”

Sasha sighed in fond exasperation and cut in, “Tim…”

“I contend that you cannot be neurotypical, Ms. James. You fit in too well around here.”

“I am not admitting to anything on Institute property,” Sasha said with aplomb. “And you shouldn't have either, but here we are.” She looked at Martin. “If HR finds out and they give you any trouble, let us know and we’ll figure out what to do.”

Tim, in the meanwhile, pulled out his phone. “Here, go ahead and use mine for now, until your replacement gets here or whatever. What’s the app so I can install it for you?”

Martin’s jaw had dropped open. Tim having ADD made sense; what did he mean about Jon, though? And Sasha? And what did Sasha mean about HR? And… and why were they being so… nice? So… understanding? It wasn’t an act, or at least he didn’t think it was. They seemed… genuinely fine with it. Accepting, even.

It was the strangest thing Martin had experienced in a while, and that was including the worm-riddled woman who’d stood outside his door for two straight weeks.

From there the day just… went on as normal. Tim installed the app on the phone, Martin’s robot phone lady spoke for him, the three of them did their work, and everything was fine.

Until, of course, the nature of their work reared its ugly head. They were discussing the statement of Leanne Denikin, case #0051701, which they had yet to attach a pithy name to; hence the discussion. It had long since become standard practice to attach a name to the “weirder” statements, to make them easier to discuss. (Jon insisted on using the case numbers on tape still, which was annoying, given that was the only place he did that.)

Martin was reading through the statement, and he typed into Tim’s phone: What do you think of this bit? “Be still, for there is strange music.”

What came out of the phone’s speakers, however, was garbled static followed by high-pitched screeching that startled Martin so much he actually dropped the phone.

Jon was walking in just as this happened; he stopped in the doorway, blinking. “What on Earth was that?”

“Martin’s robot lady gave Tim’s phone an aneurysm, I think,” Sasha said, eyeing Martin as well.

Martin scrabbled on the floor for the phone, pulled up the app (which had crashed), and typed, I don’t know what happened!! I was just typing in something from one of the statements!

Jon frowned at him sharply. “What are you doing with Tim’s phone? Are you quite well?”

“No, Martin is not ‘quite well,’” Tim said. “Non-verbal for the day.”

Then Jon did something that stunned Martin: Jon signed at him, specifically, “Do you know sign language?” He spoke aloud as he said this, too, but also raised his eyebrows and gave a quizzical tilt to his head to convey that he was asking a question.

Martin blinked rapidly, then signed back: “Yes, actually. But Tim and Sasha don’t.”

Jon nodded, then said aloud, along with signing, “Why are you non-verbal, exactly?”

“I have autism,” Martin signed. “Sometimes talking is overwhelming and sometimes, especially in stressful situations, I can’t talk at all. Woke up that way today. It should be gone by tomorrow morning.” Why was he explaining so much more to Jon than he had to the others? Maybe just because Jon knew sign, and thus could communicate in a language Martin found much easier than even the typing.

Jon frowned thoughtfully, then nodded again. Then, still speaking and signing both, “What were you typing into your phone?”

“Be still, for there is strange music. From the statement.” Martin gestured to the statement on his desk.

Jon’s frown deepened and he repeated the words. “‘Be still, for there is strange music….’” His expression went slack for a moment, and then he shook himself. “Right. Well. Just… just… I’ll be right back.” Then he abruptly turned and left the room.

Tim and Sasha exchanged bewildered looks. Then Sasha asked, “Do you know what that was all about?”

“I forgot Jon knows BSL,” Tim replied thoughtfully. “Hard of hearing on one side. Not that he’d have agreed to interpret all day or anything.”

Martin shrugged. It’s alright, he typed. This works just fine.

“Well, no, obviously not for some things.” Jon had reappeared as suddenly as he’d disappeared, holding a small brown notebook the size of Martin’s hand. “Here,” he said, thrusting the notebook at Martin. “This will work better, for communicating about the statements. You needn’t use it with me, of course, unless signing is also taxing.”

Martin stared up at Jon. There was an entirely new look on his boss’ face. Not any level of scorn or sneer, nor even concern. He was… nervous. Fidgety. Like he was offering a gift that he was afraid might be rejected.

Something went flip in Martin’s stomach and it was like the entire world turned upside down. Suddenly, in light of Jon’s actions in the last 24 hours, he saw the way his boss had acted toward him the last six months for what it was: a defense mechanism. Armor pulled up around someone fragile and soft and sweet, someone so terrified of rejection that he went about making sure it happened preemptively so he wouldn’t be hurt.

Martin had a sudden, fierce desire to hug Jon and tell him everything would be okay. It was so bewildering a sensation--he didn’t even like the man! At all!--that he just took the notebook with a nod and a signed “Thank you,” eyes still very wide.

Jon nodded in return. “You’re welcome.” He let out a breath, and seemed to relax a little. “Well. Then. I think we’ve found the name for this one, given the way Tim’s phone reacted to those words. ‘Strange Music’ it is.” He straightened himself. “Tim, you said something about the organ reminding you of articles you’ve read…?”

Tim nodded, expression suddenly serious. “Yeah. I’ll see if I can find them for you.”

“Right. Well, then, Sasha, if I could ask you to look through the Archive like we talked about? I’m certain we’ve had a statement from Jane Prentiss.” Jon then turned to Martin. “And if you wouldn’t mind helping me with ‘Schwarzwald?’ You used to work in the library, right?”

Martin was still staring at Jon in confusion, but nodded.

Jon actually smiled at him. Faintly. “Well, then, I’m certain you must know where to find the German history reference books, if you could go grab whatever they’ll let you bring down?”

The strangest thing about it was, Jon seemed sincere. Like he actually believed Martin did, indeed, know the library well enough to just… go up there and find the German history reference books. The faint, confident-in-his-assistant smile was a new look, at least directed at Martin; he’d seen Jon look at Tim and Sasha that way many times before.

Martin’s stomach was doing cartwheels. There were butterflies taking up residence in his intestines. His heart was pounding. How had he never noticed how nice Jon’s smile was? Soft and small, like he was afraid to let it actually take up residence on his face for too long.

Oh, God, oh, no. Martin could not fancy his boss. Jon hated him. Or, well, no, evidence suggested that perhaps Jon did not hate him, but Jon most certainly did not fancy him. This crush had to disappear, just as fast as it had come. This would not do.

He was going to be writing poetry again tonight, wasn’t he? Crap.

“Martin?” Jon’s tone was concerned rather than sharp, and the way Jon said his name made Martin want to sink into the floor.

Instead, he scribbled furiously in the notebook and held it up so all three of the others could see: Yeah, sorry, was just thinking about where that’d be. I’ll bring them down as soon as I find them.

Jon practically beamed at Martin’s use of the notebook and he nodded briskly. “Right! I’ll be in my office when you have the books, then.” He started to turn away.

Martin’s heart went pound pound pound because oh wow Jon was really cute when he let that smile take up more of his face. Throwing caution to the wind, he made a noise to get the other man’s attention.

Jon turned around, quirking a brow. “Yes, Martin?”

Martin signed, “Tea?” He, too, raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to indicate the question.

Jon nodded. “Tea would be lovely, yes.” He smiled at Martin for a brief moment, and then suddenly looked flustered. He glared at them all. “Anyway,” he snapped in his ‘boss’ voice, the impact of which was ruined by the flush rising in his cheeks, “there’s still work to be done. So let’s… do it.” And with that, he turned on his heel and left the office.

Had Jon blushed because Martin had offered him tea? Did Jon like his tea that much? Was Martin imagining things? He had to be imagining things. He put his head down on the desk and wrapped his arms over it so he could grab at handfuls of hair. What was happening to him?

Sasha tried to make her voice serious, but couldn't quite manage it past quite clearly holding back giggles. “Mourn for poor Martin, working alone with Jon.” She looked at Tim. “We should call HR preemptively, it’ll be a bloodbath.”

“Nah, I think Jon’s softening on our boy,” Tim said with a laugh. He reached over to ruffle Martin’s hair with one hand while he took his phone back with the other. “Don’t worry, Marto. I told you he’d come around one day.��

Martin looked up at Tim with a stricken, betrayed expression. In the notebook: Is this how you comfort me in my hour of need??

Sasha shook her head. “For once, Tim’s being serious. You weren’t in the room when Jon explained things to us. He’s worried about you, he doesn’t want you to have to leave the Institute alone, he doesn’t want you to have to look for the Prentiss statement in case it’s ‘too traumatic’ for you to run across on your own. He actually asked us if we thought we should avoid any mention of Prentiss altogether in your presence.”

“I told him no,” Tim said. “I hope that was okay. You seem like you’d rather deal with trauma by facing it and figuring it out, rather than avoiding it entirely.”

Matin gaped at them. Really? he wrote. Jon’s… worried about me? Really? As if he hadn’t seen the evidence just now that Jon was, indeed… softening.

Tim gave Martin a very serious look. “I’ve told you before… I’ve known Jon, well, not as long as I’ve known Sasha, but for a long while now. He’s prickly and thorny, even to people he cares about, but that’s a front and I’ve said so. You just didn’t believe me.”

“In Martin’s defense,” Sasha put in, “Jon’s been awfully ‘prickly and thorny’ to him specifically.”

Tim put up a hand. “Oh, I agree. I have had words with our dear boss about the way he treats Martin, largely because I’m one of the few people he might actually listen to.” He looked at Martin. “I don’t want to take the credit, because it’s really been a remarkably fast turnaround, but I’d like to think I helped, a little.”

Martin frowned thoughtfully. Thank you, he wrote. If Jon’s at ‘I can stand Martin’ instead of ‘Martin is the source of all bad that happens in the Archives’ work might be… better than tolerable, for once.

“That’s the spirit!” Tim said with a grin. “Now, then, Jon did say to get back to work…”

Jon gave Martin another of those soft smiles when Martin brought in the tea, a smile which widened on seeing the stack of books he carried in right after. That afternoon, spent sitting and going through books and discussing the Schwarzwald statement, was the first of many they’d spend together, reading and talking and comparing notes.

Martin was feeling verbal again the next morning, but he kept the notebook. If nothing else, it was a good place to jot down poetry. And it came in handy when he found himself unable to speak the morning after Jane Prentiss’ attack on the Archives.

And the morning after Jon confronted him about his CV.

And the morning after Jon disappeared, leaving Jurgen Leitner’s body at his desk. (Martin blamed that on the corridors more than the body, really.)

Funnily enough, he didn’t need it the morning after the Unknowing. But he kept it with him that day all the same, the first gift Jon had ever given him, and one of the few things he had left of him with Jon in a coma.

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

When they reached Daisy’s safehouse in Scotland, Martin had hoped he’d somehow manage to dodge the threat of going non-verbal. He’d been the one to drive the car, over Jon’s protests; it was something to focus on, to keep him remembering he was alive and real. He’d clutched the wheel and driven north north north with Jon giving directions in the passenger seat.

Martin had finally figured out that it was the chance to stop and think about trauma that led to his being non-verbal, which was why it was almost always a thing that hit in the morning. Adrenaline would keep him running after a stressful event, and then he’d carry himself through the rest of the day trying to clean up whatever mess had been caused. But sleep was enough for his body and brain to both tell him to stop, to process, to deal with whatever he’d run into.

It was possible, in hindsight, that he’d gone non-verbal more than once since the Unknowing and just hadn’t noticed because he’d been barely interacting with anyone. He’d certainly had a bad bout the morning after his mother’s funeral, dealing with so much misgendering and fake smiles. And there had been more than enough trauma to try to process in the past year, so it must have happened before.

He’d just really, really hoped it wouldn’t now, because he didn’t want to put Jon through that. (Why he thought he was putting Jon through anything he didn’t really want to examine. It made him feel Lonely, and that was bad.)

At any rate, the realization of why he went non-verbal had led to him keeping busy in order to hold it off, in order to hold himself together. So he drove, and he puttered about the cabin poking into cupboards, and he talked to Jon, and he talked to the shop lady in the village, and he brought back food and made dinner with Jon, and everything was good and fine.

And then he woke up the next morning, in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room, and he could not speak.

There was the smell of bacon and eggs and pancakes cooking, and Martin made his bleary way out into the main room of the cabin and peered at Jon, already up and dressed and cooking.

His boyfriend turned to look at him and smiled, one of those soft smiles Martin had come to love so much. “Sleep well?”

"Not really,” Martin signed. “I mean…” He gestured at his throat.

Jon nodded. “I figured you might feel that way this morning. I, uhh… hold on a moment, I need to….” He grabbed the pan of bacon and moved it off the heat, pulled a pancake off the griddle and deposited it on a plate, then turned off the stove and went to poke around in one of the bags.

Martin chuckled fondly. “What’re you looking for?”

Jon was still digging through his bag. “When I was grabbing essentials at the store, back in London, I was thinking, you’ve been through a lot, and the notebook I gave you before must be full if you even have it anymore. I know you were writing poetry in it, and… oh, here we go.”

Jon came up with another small notebook. This one was not plain and brown, the way the first one he’d gifted Martin all those years ago had been. This one was black, and had silvery stars on its cover that, as Jon held out the book and thus tilted it through the light, shimmered into rainbows.

“Just in case, you know, the shop lady doesn’t know BSL.”

Martin blinked at the notebook.

“It, uhh… I know it’s not your usual style,” Jon said, his voice suddenly nervous. He was looking down at the notebook as he spoke, instead of at Martin. “Not… retro. But… I saw it and I thought of you.” He paused. “That tape, where you were talking to Simon Fairchild. He talked about the ‘cosmic scale,’ and how we’ve never even been alive on that time frame, and you said… what was it? You said, ‘I think our experience of the universe has value. Even if it disappears forever.’ And I just… that was… maybe the most… it was very… you. And there were other options, flowers or cursive writing, o-or… I don’t know, they all seemed so obvious, but this…”

Jon swallowed, and finally looked up at Martin. “I thought, after the Lonely, you might like a reminder that, you have value. That… that to me, you shine as bright as any star.” And then he flushed, and Martin knew it was for him, just as he now knew the flushes about tea all those years ago had also been for him.

Martin was gaping. Oh. Oh. Jon… loved him. Which he’d known, intellectually, but the emotional knowledge of it hit him suddenly, took his breath away. He knew it, all at once, in that “oh we could spend the rest of our lives together” way he’d never really thought he’d ever feel.

Jon had clearly misinterpreted the expression; he started stammering, “I-if… it it’s bad, I can… well, no, I can’t take it back, stupid, I should’ve just grabbed the one that had--”

Martin cut him off by reaching out to take the notebook from Jon and reached out with his other hand to cup the shorter man’s cheek. He smiled, and because he’d realized long ago how well Jon responded to physical touch, he leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his boyfriend’s forehead.

Then he pulled back to put the notebook aside on the counter and signed, “It’s perfect. Thank you.” A pause, and then, “I love you.”

Jon smiled, both speaking and signing, “I love you, too.”

And for once in his life, Martin knew that to be true, and trusted that knowledge. He was loved. He had been loved, and he would be loved for the rest of his life, whatever state his voice was in.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #jon sims #jonathan sims #jon the archivist #martin blackwood #tim stoker #sasha james #archives gang #otp: one way or another together #fanfic #my fanfic #ableism tw #jmart #canon tma fic

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goose-books · 3 years

Photo

bodyghost // a play

[top image description: a person silhouetted against a gray background, bordered in black. at the top left, text reads “bodyghost;” at the bottom right, “a play.” photo credits here.]

[bottom image description: text reading as follows:

ONE and THE OTHER: This doesn’t look like me.

(Both of them pause.)

ONE (very softly): But it doesn’t look like anyone else, either.]

anyone order a four-page play with the thesis “when you’re trans and mentally ill it’s weird. it’s just weird”?

read it under the cut or at this google doc link. tws: discussion of transphobia, dysphoria and mental illness; allusions to self-harm and suicide; brief mentions of suffocation and stabbing

(Lights up.

The stage is barely that. No props. No set, except for an open and empty door frame in the center of the stage, angled so that the two “sides” of the doorway are the left and right sides of the stage.

Behind the door frame there are two identical actors wrestling on the floor. We watch ONE choke THE OTHER to death and then sit there, panting, breathless. Then ONE stands and turns to face the audience.)

ONE: I remember being her, but I don’t remember when I stopped. Like how you never remember the moment right before you fall asleep.

(As he speaks, THE OTHER gets up and comes to stand behind him, unspeaking but imitating his movements to the twitch.)

ONE: In kindergarten I was a little girl. In fifth grade, too. I think it happened sometime between thirteen and fourteen. All of a sudden I was somebody different and I didn’t know where she went. Just that she was gone. And there was this other person in my head. And I was this other person in my head.

I used to think I killed her. That’s how you feel when you’re trans. Like you’re killing the child your parents used to have. I wrote lots of poems about it. Killing her. It felt like I didn’t have any choice. It felt like self defense. It felt like I killed her and then I put her skin on. She was gone and I was hiding. A wolf in girl’s clothing.

I always imagined I had stabbed her. Because I was obsessed with knives. But if it was anything it was choking. Strangling. Suffocation. That’s how it feels being closeted. I guess she got me back, then. Wearing her skin made me feel like I was choking. In the end I got rid of that too. Her skin. They call that coming out. In the moment it felt like survival. Logically I know I am that little girl; I haven’t changed. When I look at old pictures I can see myself now and not some stranger. But I still miss her sometimes. Even though I know that there are no atheists in foxholes. Even though I know if I had to I’d kill her again and again and again.

(ONE and THE OTHER both pass through the door frame. Moving together. Like one person; like a person and a shadow. They switch places, then; THE OTHER is the one standing in front now, and ONE mimics his actions to the blink.)

THE OTHER: There was a boy in my sophomore year history class who wouldn’t call me by my chosen name.

ONE and THE OTHER: I didn’t notice it at first.

THE OTHER: He only called me my last name.

ONE and THE OTHER: I didn’t notice it at first.

THE OTHER: I called him on it. I don’t remember what I said. I remember what he said. He said:

ONE and THE OTHER: In my culture your name is important. You can’t change it.

ONE: Your name is important.

THE OTHER: I didn’t know what to say.

ONE: Of course that was the point.

THE OTHER: I didn’t know what to say.

ONE: He started calling me Max eventually.

THE OTHER: I felt like I did when I was closeted.

ONE: I guess he just had to get used to it.

THE OTHER: Like I was behind a layer of glass.

ONE: We never talked about it again.

THE OTHER: Like everyone else was real and I wasn’t.

ONE and THE OTHER: Your name is important.

(They pass through the door frame again. They change places again. It’s getting harder to tell who’s who.)

ONE (or, at least, we think it is ONE): There’s this Margaret Atwood quote.

ONE and THE OTHER: “When you go mad you don’t go any other place, you stay where you are. And someone else comes in.”

THE OTHER: When I was fourteen I went so mad they had to put me on medication. When I was sixteen I went so mad it was outpatient. Of course I was mad before that too. It was in me. Gestating. Dormant. What has my life been except a prolonged going mad?

ONE: I’ve never looked the way I should. I have breasts instead of scars.

(Behind him, THE OTHER raises his forearm and traces ladder-rung scars that aren’t there.)

ONE: Sometimes when I look in the mirror it reminds me that most people recognize themselves.

THE OTHER: Freshman year health class this boy raised his hand and said:

ONE and THE OTHER: Medication should never be a long-term solution.

ONE: I will be on psych meds for the rest of my life.

THE OTHER: Unless I stop, and based on how I was off the meds, that rest of my life won’t be very long.

ONE: He didn’t know that, of course. He was talking hypotheticals.

THE OTHER: A friend once told me:

ONE and THE OTHER: I know your brain makes you do things you don’t want to.

THE OTHER: But it’s never my brain that does it. It’s the thing feeding on my brain.

ONE: I will be on psych meds for the rest of my life.

THE OTHER: The madness isn’t me.

ONE: I’ve never looked the way I should.

THE OTHER: I am not the madness.

ONE: I have breasts instead of scars.

THE OTHER: That’s what they tell you to tell yourself. But it isn’t like madness is a hat I can take off. It’s been there as long as I can remember. It was there when I was a little girl, too.

ONE (near desperate): I was a little girl, too.

THE OTHER: The best artists are mad, you know. The madness is not me. Then who am I?

(They go through the door again. At this point we can only guess which one is which.)

THE OTHER (?): When you’re crazy your brain isn’t yours.

ONE (?): When you’re trans your body isn’t yours.

ONE and THE OTHER: This doesn’t look like me.

(Both of them pause.)

ONE (very softly): But it doesn’t look like anyone else, either.

THE OTHER (very softly): What does the world see when it sees me?

ONE (very softly): What do I see when I see me?

(ONE passes through the door frame. THE OTHER doesn’t. ONE stops, turns around, stares at THE OTHER. THE OTHER mimics him, twitch for twitch, blink for blink, as if the door frame is a mirror. ONE stares at THE OTHER like he’s trying to solve a mystery, or like he’s begging for THE OTHER to say something to him. THE OTHER stares at ONE the same way.

ONE looks away. THE OTHER does not.

Lights down.)

#max.txt #max actually writes #atlastracking #ah this one... this one. probably a little too personal but if i don't post it it's just going to rot in a google doc and i like to share.#and i like it so there we are!

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average-crazy-fangirl · 3 years

Text

Welp, thanks to @laughable-illusions, I've gotten into Hero Forge, and have recreated my Big Five™ TES OC's (main game OC's), and now have a reason to rant about my OC's

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

Manei, Eternal Champion of the Arena.

Dunmer-Altmer halfling Battlemage.

Forced to play Hero at age 19, traveled through all of Tamriel, never met a single Daedric Prince, is the Tamrielic equivalent of an aethiest, is utterly convinced gods aren't a thing, and contracted Noxiphilic Sanguivoria a few years after marrying Erv.

Had quite a large crush on Ria Silmane, though they both just stayed friends. Manei did not take her death well.

We all love a tall trans bisexual/romantic buff lady, so Manei is here to fill that role.

Didn't ask questions when their husband, who was infertile, somehow got pregnant.

Found a random baby Argonian at the side of the river a few years after she and her husband retired and just said, "Sweetheart, we're parents now."

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

Erv Anesac, Hero of Daggerfall, Champion/First Guidance Councillor of all Daedric Princes.

One braincell is in that skull of his, and it's stuck in a Dragon Break.

Dunmer-Breton halfling Illusionist.

Absolute whore of a wereboar.

Uriel Septim had the ingenious idea to send Erv on a very important mission in his home of Daggerfall. Why Erv? He helped Manei locate a piece of the Staff of Chaos, and his family had a history of saving Tamriel*. Also magic dreams.

*his not so long ago family founder was the Vestige/Soulless One, who I may make a separate post about, an Emperor of the previous Empire and the fates decided to bring the family back into the drivers seat of the wheels of fate, and also thought it would be funny if the first person to defeat Mannimarko since his imprisonment, was a descendent of the person who imprisoned him.

Suffered real mental health problems after the Dragon Break.

Out of all Daedric Princes, Sheogorath was the only one who kept showing up for Thundas Tea, even after Erv's retirement, so he was the one Erv decided to go to when he wanted too make a deal.

Short, trans, pan, mentally ill icon of a wereboar.

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

Has-Strange-Dreams Anesac, Nerevarine, Skall Friend, Champion of Azura, Killer of Almalexia, inspiration for Lusty Argonian Maid, Older Sibling of the HoK.

Bigender icon of a panromantic.

Trained by xyr mother Manei as a Battlemage.

Was arrested after a certain Countess Alessia Caro decided she didn't like the look of a golden Argonian with red scales on xyr face, and glowing blue eyes, and framed xem for murder, and claimed xe were an escaped slave from Morrowind. How her plan worked, no one knows.

Didn't sleep the entire way too Morrowind and actually got to know Jiub, so he got visited by the Nerevarine while in Vivec City quite frequently.

Adventured Morrowind with Swissel after a letter was sent to them asking for help. Very fast speedwalking was heard from Cyrodiil, straight to Morrowind.

Joined Twin Lamps very quickly, and had to custom make a chain to be attached to the back of Swissel's clothes so they didn't kill racists.

Xe genuinely broke down crying when facing Dagoth Ur, leading to them both sitting on the group weeping, as Swissel killed the moment, pissed on the tombstone, and danced on the grave, as they physically rolled into the room, wearing so many layers of clothes they were just a ball of material.

Also broke down crying when Sotha Sil died, and when they learned who did it.

Went against Hircine during the Bloodmoon Hunt.

Punched Swissel after they found another of Sheogorath's artifacts, and became his Champion after xe became Azura's champion.

Left Tamriel with Dagoth Ur as xyr lover, heading to Akavir after Oddfrid's prophecy gave xym a very strange feeling.

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

Swissel Anesac, Hero of Kvatch, Saviour of Bruma, Champion of Cyrodiil, Champion of Sheogorath, Divine Crusader, Listener, Duke of Dementia, God of Madness.

Trained Dunmer Illusionist by their father Erv.

Non-binary, gay, whore.

Was arrested after a beggar payed a guard to arrest them for horrible singing. (the fact it worked impresses Swiss to this day.)

Was born after Erv asked Sheogorath to make so he was no longer infertile, the only real drawback was Erv could be pregnant, Swiss had blue and yellow eyes instead of red, and had a radar for Daedric Artifacts. The other drawback was they were very confuse by the idea of being in your mother's womb.

Could summon scamps and find Daedric Artifacts since the age of four, leading to thier best friend and travelling buddy, Nexus the germophobic Scamp.

Tamed a unicorn. The unicorn then tried to mate with Shadowmere during the Dark Brotherhood questline.

Grinned when Lex was transferred.

Dated Martin Septim, who mantles Akatosh. Then dated Lucien, who died and became an aspect of Sithis.

Was revealed ot be Pelinal Whitestake. They certainly giggled at the fact a dark elf was the reincarnation of the Wild Elf killer.

Laughed at how badly Mannimarco looked compared to their father's old illustrations.

Wasn't actually slowed down when they got the Staff of Everscamp. (the staff was only returned when they became Sheogorath at the end of their adventures)

Traversed the Deadlands by spamming a custom spell that turned them invisible and gave them night vision.

Became Duke of Dementia since the trauma of their adventures got to them a while before Sheogorath ever opened the Door in Niben Bay.

Blames themselves for the fall of the Thieves Guild and Dark Brotherhood

Wrote the Elder Scroll of Dragon, as foreshadowed by Martin Septim's last words before he passed into history as the last Septim.

Sometimes worries what Martin would think of them becoming a Daedric Prince.

Searched downright desperately for a Dragonborn so a repeat of Martin's death didn't occur. (They technically succeeded.)

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

Regan Dov, Last Dragonborn, Champion/Second Guidance Councillor of all Daedric Princes, Listener, Oblivion Walker. (With guest appearance, Swiss the Skooma Cat)

Jack of all Trades of a class.

Went to Skyrim to try and start a new life. The plan worked, unfortunately, they planed a quiet life.

Non-binary biromantic demisexual.

Sheogorath was the first Daedric Prince they met, where they were quickly called out for their mental health problems, given the wabbajack, and an arm length butterfly tattoo.

Abused the ability of Dragonborn to slightly lift the Dragon Fires and create a working portal to Oblivion form Mundus.

Outsmarted Herma Mora to save Miraak, ad three more dragonic siblings.

Feels dysphoria thanks to their strange dragon soul.

Like any dragon, purrs like a cat when happy.

Cannot get drunk under normal circumstances. (Daedric wine, here I come.)

Same with all regular drugs. Skooma is a minor stamina potion, moonsugar is a mage's best friend, and only nirnroot has worked to get them high.

Hosts party's for Daedra worshippers, and constantly has to kill Vigilants of Stendarr, either when they crash their parties, or whne they come to arrest them and take away the Daedric Artifacts.

Hides the fact their dragonborn like a dirty secret.

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

Hooo boy, one long post, ranting about my OC's.

What more can a hyper-fixated fanfic writer with writers block ask for?

#Oc:Manei #Oc:Erv #Oc:Has-Strange-Dreams #Oc:Swissel #oc:regan #sheo!hok #dunmer #argonian #hero forge #tes #daggerfall #morrowind #oblivion #skyrim #dovahkiin #nerevarine #hero of kvatch

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pozolegirl · 3 years

Note

I'd been worried for a while that you were lowkey transphobic since you regularly reblog things from someone who is flagged red by shinigami eyes so it's a relief to see you voice support for lgbtq+ people within LDS. I'd watched a documentary called Same Sex Attracted about queer people at BYU and I'm disappointed things haven't improved since. I'm glad people haven't given up hope though.

I have to say I have zero clue who you’re talking about with the red thing, I’m very out of the loop with that, and I apologize. (Also I cant think of anything blatantly transphobic being on my dash ever? So I may have followed them after the fact?) But no, I fully support trans people. I definitely was transphobic once upon a time, just like I was homophobic too, even if I kept it to myself for the most part because at least I recognized the hurt that people had. I was unaware of people’s struggle and feelings and I didn’t understand, but I wanted to be kind at least. And when I took the time to actually listen to people’s stories and walk with them and love them there is no way I could ever return to the ignorant state I was at once. I’m learning more every day and I try constantly to be better and listen to different experiences, because everyone’s story is valid and it doesn’t make sense that people would be ‘doing it for attention’ or whatever else people say.

The experience of trans people is something I don’t understand fully because I don’t have those feelings of gender dysphoria, but that’s okay and it doesn’t matter! You don’t have to fully understand the feelings of someone to recognize that it’s a reality for that person and you need to support and love them! 💖💖💖

I am an English major at BYU, and as much as BYU is called ‘the bubble’ you could kind of consider the humanities a smaller bubble inside that bubble lmao. I can’t tell you the love I feel when I walk down the halls of the humanities building and see the rainbow ‘safe space’ signs outside of professors offices, along with the repeated rows of ‘Black Lives Matter’ print outs that showed up and have stayed up since this past summer, all hanging on their doors. I have seen students vandalize these things, writing nasty notes on the bottom of these signs, only to have them be replaced the next day by new ones. Last night I saw the look of joy and almost tears on the face of one professor when he rode up on the elevator with me to the top floor to see the rainbow Y last night. And when I came out to one of my professors last semester he wrote me a huge beautiful email that felt like the biggest most loving hug in the whole world.

The nature of humanities is that you study people, wether it be their language, culture, development, or religions, and it makes you step into their shoes for just a moment. And you cannot learn and study someone’s culture without developing a love for them as well. It is the human thing to do. So as tough as things are at BYU, I’ve still had an amazing experience here and learned so much because I have classes from people that care and I have peers here who have invited me into their world. And I look forward to continuing to do so for the rest of my life. ❤️

#sorry all these posts are so long lmao #I don’t talk a lot about these things on here so I have a lot to say #I mostly follow artists and meme things or friends on here because this is my space to just enjoy fandom and art haha #update: I looked up what shinigamieyes is so I get it now but I think whoever it is I reblog from may not be actively transphobic or-#it might be a false flag???#I say that only because I really never see anything transphobic on my dash so ???? idk idk

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mediaeval-muse · 3 years

Text

Book Review

Confessions of the Fox. By Jordy Rosenberg. New York: One World, 2018.

Rating: 4.5/5 stars

Genre: historical fiction, queer fiction

Part of a Series? No

Summary: Set in the eighteenth century London underworld, this bawdy, genre-bending novel reimagines the life of thief and jailbreaker Jack Sheppard to tell a profound story about gender, love, and liberation.

Jack Sheppard and Edgeworth Bess were the most notorious thieves, jailbreakers, and lovers of eighteenth-century London. Yet no one knows the true story; their confessions have never been found. Until now. Reeling from heartbreak, a scholar named Dr. Voth discovers a long-lost manuscript—a gender-defying exposé of Jack and Bess’s adventures. Is Confessions of the Fox an authentic autobiography or a hoax? As Dr. Voth is drawn deeper into Jack and Bess’s tale of underworld resistance and gender transformation, it becomes clear that their fates are intertwined—and only a miracle will save them all.

***Full review under the cut.***

Content Warnings: sexual content (as in sex acts, not the mere presence of lgbt+ people), blood, graphic depiction of top surgery, violence, racism, gender dysphoria

Overview: I didn’t know what I was expecting when I picked up this book, but something about it just hit all the right angles for me. I adore historical fiction that not only aims to imitate the aesthetics of the period, but also focuses on underrepresented identities, such as queer, non-white, and working or poverty class people; thus, it was inevitable that I would find Confessions of the Fox would be so engrossing. I do understand that this book might not be for everyone, as Rosenberg plays with a lot of academic ideas that usually fall in the realm of theory, but personally, I loved that this book wasn’t just about trans identity. While gender and identity and queerness were at the heart of this book, Confessions was also about archives and policing and commodities and so much more - things that were related and engaged the more academic part of my brain, but somewhat complicated for casual reading. Nevertheless, it was ambitious and smartly-constructed, so I’m giving it a high rating, even if I have quibbles here and there.

Writing: As a former academic and lover of history, I very much enjoyed Rosenberg’s approach to genre, form, and writing. It would have been easy to simply write a story using modern aesthetic tastes, but Rosenberg goes out of his way to imitate the prose style of the 18th century. I loved the richness of the vocabulary and the complexity of the sentences, as well as the juxtaposition of the sacred and profane. It was refreshing to read such beautiful prose that the author clearly put a lot of love into, and if you want to be so immersed in a story that you feel like you’re reading a historical document, I think Rosenberg does a wonderful job.

I also really loved the way Rosenberg wrote about trans identity in the 18th century. There are passages, for example, where Jack’s attention wanders while being dead-named, where Jack expresses feelings of confusion or freedom when talking about his physical body, where he talks about the process of coming into being when he heard Bess use his name, etc. I thought these passages were the most beautifully written and impactful, and they stayed with me the most after I finished the book.

These 18th century “confessions” are accompanied by a number of footnotes, written by a character named Dr. Voth in the present day. In these passages, Rosenberg shifts his tone and style, thereby differentiating between past and present without having to constantly remind the reader that Jack and Bess’s story is told through something of a frame. I think the choice to have footnotes instead of chapters where Voth’s POV takes center stage was a good one - it more effectively created parallels between the 18th century story and Voth’s personal story, and reminded the reader that history (especially trans history) evolves as a result of a kind of archival work, collected in pieces by many different people. In that sense, form matched function, which I am always delighted to see in my novels.

That being said, I can’t say I enjoyed Voth’s voice all that much. This criticism is probably a personal preference rather than anything Rosenberg did wrong - I just think Voth’s voice felt a little too conversational, like he was talking to someone instead of writing.

Plot: Most of Rosenberg’s novel follows Jack Sheppard and Bess Khan as they discover Jack’s identity, evade arrest, and disrupt a horrifying commodity trade (so to speak). In my opinion, the plot points surrounding Jack’s personal journey were incredibly well-constructed; I felt that the evolution of Jack’s gender identity, the romance between Jack and Bess, and their evolution as criminals were all very compelling and touched on a number of engrossing themes, from gender to poverty to anti-capitalism. Granted, there were some areas where I think the pacing dragged, but part of me thinks this was due to the 18th century style and genre conventions, more than anything Rosenberg was doing wrong.

In Voth’s footnotes, we also get something of a personal story which includes Voth being coerced into working for an exploitative publishing company at the direction of his university administrator. As we go through the footnotes, Voth recounts conversations he had with these figures while also disclosing details about his failed relationships - with one ex in particular. While I did like the parallels that exist between the manuscript and Voth’s own life, there were some things that challenged my suspension of disbelief. For example, I would never expect an academic to record personal anecdotes and intimate confessions in footnotes for an academic project. Maybe that happens in academic circles outside mine, and I understand it needs to happen for plot reasons (just reading references to critical theory or secondary sources would be boring for most people), so this criticism is coming from a place of being too close to the setting surrounding the text, in a way.

I also think that there were some passages where sexual activity would be mentioned where it was not needed. I do understand, on some level, that sex and sexuality is an important topic in trans studies (and queer studies as a whole), and I don’t want to appear too prudish. However, I think random references to a character masturbating, even if they were making a point, were a bit egregious. I was especially put off by the story of a 15 year old masturbating (in the present-day footnotes), and though I understand the story was illustrating an academic concept and books should acknowledge that (many) teens do have sex drives, it was also a bit much for me, personally.

Characters: Jack, our primary protagonist, is interesting and complex not just because he struggles with his identity as a trans man, but also because he struggles with acting in ways that are not out of self-interest. Though he is a thief and thus acts in self-interest in understandable ways, he eventually uncovers an operation which involves the production of a drug-like substance (or something - that’s the best I can describe it). Bess demands that he destroy all samples so that the substance can’t be reproduced by others, but Jack wants to confiscate the samples for himself to make a huge profit. I liked that this conflict existed, not only because it showed Jack as having other challenges in his life other than his gender identity, but it also spurred character growth and emotional turmoil.

Bess Khan, a prostitute and Jack’s lover, was written in a way that respected sex work and provided commentary on race and policing. I really liked that she had a strong set of principles and desires that were larger than herself, and I liked that she was confident and forceful where Jack could be meek and unsure.

Other rogues were equally loveable and admirable. Jenny, another prostitute, was a nice example of women forming networks of support within the criminal underworld while also showing how white women (even prostitutes) are treated differently than non-white women. Aurie, a black queer man, was also a supportive friend to Jack who is frequently instrumental in his survival. There is also a wide variety of named and unnamed rogues who were non-white and/or queer in some way, providing a rich array of characters that dispels the assumption that 18th century England was homogenously white and straight.

Our main antagonist, Jonathan Wild, is a bit less interesting in that he’s mainly just corrupt. I personally didn’t care for the chapters from his perspective, though I do understand that he functions as an important, symbolic figure that embodies all the things Jack and Bess work against (capitalism, police corruption, etc.).

Voth, our modern day commentator, has his moments, but sometimes, I would waffle back and forth between finding him engaging and finding him pretentious. I understand that he is supposed to be flawed, and I sympathize with a lot of his plights - mainly the pressure from his university and the anxiety he suffers from. But also, I found his voice to be somewhat combative, and if the point was to make a complicated, likeable-sometimes-unlikeable-other-times character, then I think Rosenberg succeeded.

TL;DR: Confessions of the Fox is a beautiful debut novel that engages with trans identity and history, though it does so in a way that may be a bit too academic for some readers. But while it definitely demands much of your attention, Rosenberg ultimately delivers a rich, engrossing story that reaches beyond the historical and textual boundaries of the page and invites the reader to see themselves as part of a vast network that is constantly “making” and “becoming” itself.

#book reviews

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greylunar · 4 years

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hi! I took your quiz and the result was wrong but I loved it and your writing, where can I find more of that?

HahahA I respect this ask IMMENSELY thank you very much for it, and for loving the quiz despite it’s flaws. Prose wise, I’ve got a frighteningly long star trek fanfic you can read, and other than that I think I’m just responding to everyone who asks me about poetry/writing with a poem under the keep reading, and you can find my writing and those posts under the “tal writes” tags because i literally haven’t put my writing on here before so! Hope that’s okay! if yall have a better idea let me know haha

Warnings on this poem: its about the Trans Experience TM and discusses themes of vaguely internalized homophobia and transphobia as well as dysphoria, but ends positively and is more about learning how to own your identity and your gender? Yes haha i think that about covers it

This Poem Is a Real Male Bathroom, For Real Men™️ Only

I know something is wrong when he turns around at the urinal.

Despite being new to this whole bathroom thing, I am certain that there is a rule about this specifically.

As he asks me what my name is, I wash my hands.

I almost say Miles, the name my mother says she would have given me if I was born a boy, but my brain tells me that this is Too Gay. My own name does not even cross my mind.

Miles is the name of my grandfather. He worked in the same steel mill for forty-six years. I do not believe he ever looked at a man for more than five seconds at a time. I know this, because he is the one who taught me to keep my head down at the urinal. To keep my head down at all times.

Still, I say Max. In my mouth, it sounds like a dogs name.

I stand there and try to remember the steps that go into washing your hands as he keeps talking. I am aware he is facing me completely now, I am aware of his frame in the background of the mirror I cannot look at, I am aware that there is one rule in male bathrooms, and so my brain keeps looping and repeating do not look up do not look up do not look up.

He asks me what my number is, and when I recount this to my mother a week later, I cannot find a way to describe how it feels like a threat. How it feels like wanting to count the tiles to the exit door but not being able to stop washing your hands because you simply can’t remember how it’s done anymore, what that last step is that lets your brain know the process is over. I try and work through it again. I restart, get more soap.

He keeps saying things. My brain flicks through quotes in my head like rapidly choosing what to wear into battle. I misremember the one I end up choosing, find myself unable to fix the clasps on a breastplate that I built for myself, it should have fit me. I feel like this strangely has to do more with what is inside my chest versus the flesh that lies on top of it, regardless, I play the quote again.

“The poet’s job, in the midst of the flood, is to remember the color of the water.”

And again.

The sink is just clear. I am trying to convince it to be blue, for a grocery list of reasons and the ghost of a voice saying “poetic cinema”, when he says something else, and I blink and it is Wednesday.

I joke to my friends that I am not sure if my superpower is time travel or teleportation. We decide that it is the latter because if I could time travel, I would just go forward til things were better. Instead, I just end up somewhere else days later, blinking back into my body, trying to remember how I got there. I am not wearing my jacket anymore. I still can’t find it now, and I only have a vague recollection of frantically looking for a sharpie to scribble out the rainbow flag on the outside, not because I am ashamed but because I have always needed a safety blanket, even now and it just doesn’t feel safe anymore.

My sister made it for my eighteenth birthday, not to celebrate my birth but my continued existence, she says it is a gift so that I can remember how brave I have been.

I am wearing it when I am too scared in an empty cafe to hold the boy I want to marry’s hand.

Six people write down brave as an adjective to describe me out of ten for a class project. I realize, after an hour of not understanding these results that everyone who has said this is LGBT. They do not think I am brave in my actions, they know I am brave for being alive.

I do not like that my sheer existence is heroic.

Later that night, or maybe a month before, I have been teleporting so much lately that I can’t remember time, I ask my partner if he thinks I am gay enough.

He asks me what I mean, and I do not know how to answer him,

I cannot tell if people see me as a boy or girl when they look at me anymore or if I just look small.

I tell him that it feels like I am just now realizing that I have missed my train and that I have been sitting at the station for eighteen years waiting for something that simply will not come,

When a girl tells me I am pretty I think of how I pictured myself looking in college.

I stand next to my little brother as we get out of the car and he is three heads taller than I will ever be,

I remember joking with him, when I did not know anything, that I would always make a better soldier than him.

I remember the first time I realized he would always be stronger than me when a news alert goes off on my phone saying I am too expensive to be in the military.

I tell my boyfriend that I have never seen myself as trans as I picture my father in Germany, my grandfather taking a picture of him in uniform as he helps pull a man over a wall my father made sure crumbled, I wonder if the picture took him more than five seconds to take, or if it’s okay to look at men through glass, through a viewfinder.

The only picture I have left of his is one of my mother holding me as a child, and there is much love in that single faded frame that even the photo paper feels soft, and still, today, I cannot help but wonder what he would think of me.

The water in the bathroom is clear as I wash my hands. My name is not Max. I know this because it took me four years to choose the perfect one. To make sure it fit right, like a safety jacket.

On a Thursday, my therapist asks me why I am scared, and suddenly I am in bed reading a text from a friend that asks the same thing, and maybe it actually is time travel.

“I do not know,” I say, both times, and they echo and I can’t make out which voice is mine, the high pitched one in my head or the one people hear when they meet me again for the first time in years.

I do not know, I say, because I have never been righteous I have never been angry. The group chat talks about what kind of historical gays they are. Elliot says he would have been an 80’s escort, in rich extravagant clothing, taking women to parties their husbands could not attend. Phoenix is a second brick at stonewall kind of gay, apparently. They ask me what I would be doing then. I say Berlin and Vietnam, respectively.

I have made it a goal, for the past two years, to tell someone on the internet every day that I love them. I did this after a person I barely knew died. His mother made a post about how we should not say that he “committed” anything, because that it makes it sound like a crime. I tell people I love them and sometimes it still feels like I am committing the act of love.

A boy once wrote to me saying he was happy I was finally writing happy poems. Even as I tell myself that life is circular, and sometimes backwards can still be forwards, I try to make this poem happy for him.

As I write this, I know I am traveling faster than the speed of light. That a few days from now I will blink and wake up and find this on my computer and wonder how it happened.

I will continue to taste the word brave on my tongue and try and use it to wash the sound of Max out of my mouth.

I will continue to try and name of the color of this flood, but it does not feel colorful, it does not feel rainbow. It still looks clear when I wash my hands.

I am itching more lately, and I try not to think about being allergic to my body.

The water is clear when it washes over skin that I cannot tell is mine.

The water is clear still.

I turn the faucet off. And I dry my hands. I have remembered these steps, in the end.

The water was clear, still.

And I am in love, still.

And I am love, still.

And I try to think of how all these things can exist at once.

And I land on the answer.

I am in multiple places at once.

I refuse not to call this a superpower.

I have decided to title this poem This Poem Is a Real Male Bathroom, For Real Men™️ Only.

And I want the guy whose penis I did not look at in that bathroom, to know,

That this poem is not for him.

Because I was the only real man in that room.

#tal asks #quiz mention #tal writes #okay to rb #your-url-is-problematic

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