#but i want to dress like them in the way that a very clearly masculine man wears dresses

[maybefalsefacts]

The first time Logan saw Wade in drag, he thought someone broke into their apartment

Visually, Logan had no initial recognition.

Long blond hair. Big chest. Smooth skin. Tight dress. Tall boots. Long gloves.

Logan would have unsheathed his claws and tore the intruder to shreds for daring to invade his den.

Would have.

If not for those familiar baby blues staring out at him in shock and horror.

Logan knew those eyes. Knew them like he knew every star in the sky. Knew them like he could walk their apartment blindfolded and drunk.

Then he smelled the weird mix of makeup and hair products that came from the assortment of shoeboxes Wade kept on the top shelf of their closet.

Hanging up his jacket and toeing off his boots, Logan closed the door behind him. Stepping closer, he found the underlying scents of Wade's coconut body wash and the bitter smell of death that followed the merc everywhere.

Looking closer, Logan noticed the other details. Wade's waist. Wade's arms. Wade's thighs. Wade's fingers tapping irratically. Wade's breathing picking up.

Wade was frozen.

Logan was home early. Wade hadn't planned on getting caught. He hadn't wanted Logan to see.

Logan was... Confused. But, ever the supportive boyfriend, "You look nice. Going somewhere?"

As Wade buffered, Logan walked casually to the kitchen. He pulled a root beer (he was trying to cut back on real beer) from the fridge and snagged a piece of jerky from the fancy jar on the counter (it was too heavy for Puppins to move and she couldn't open it. Her dog treats were in the matching jar beside it).

Back in the living room, Logan got comfy in his recliner and raised an eyebrow at Wade.

Finally snapping out of it, he started messing with his dress and gloves. "Ummm... You're... Home early?"

Cracking open his root beer, "Yeah. Power outage in the shop. It won't be fixed till tomorrow, so they sent everybody home."

Wade nodded absently, looking anywhere but at Logan. "Makes sense."

Puppins lept up onto Logan's lap and he patted her absently. To Wade, he gently called, "Hey, you alright?"

Wade straightened, "What? Yeah! I'm great! I'm excellent. I'm-"

Sensing a long-winded ramble coming on, Logan cut him off, "Wade."

Wade flinched.

Logan waited.

When Wade's eyes finally found their way to his, Logan held out a hand.

Slowly, Wade stepped gracefully around the couch, heels clicking on the hard wood.

Pushing Puppins back to the floor and setting his drink aside, Logan gently pulled Wade down to sit on the arm of the chair. He put one arm around Wade's waist and the other brought those sexy black boots across his lap.

Though Wade came willingly, he chewed on his cherry-painted lips the whole time.

There were times when all Logan had to do was wait for Wade to talk. Let the other man ramble until he got to the real topic. This, clearly, was not one of those times.

Reaching up, Logan used his thumb to pull Wade's poor lip from between his teeth. Softly, "Do you want to tell me why you're getting all dressed up? Or just skip to me telling you that you didn't have to hide it?"

Wade's eyes met Logan's once more, full of disbelief and hope. "I... I know it's weird bu-"

Logan cut him off again, "No. Putting ketchup on your pancakes is weird. This is-"

"Disturbing? Disgusting? Gay? An insult to masculinity?"

Logan frowned, "I was going to say, this seems very important to you. Especially since you were so worried about my reaction that you didn't want me to know about it at all."

"Oh." Wade looked down at his hands, playing with his fingers. "Um..."

"Wade."

Wade flinched again.

"Does this make you happy?"

Wade continued to stare down at his hands. Eventually, he gave the smallest of nods.

Logan nodded too, like that settled the matter. Because it did.

"Well, then, go have fun. Go drink, or dance, or fuck around, or Femme Fatale, or whatever it is you do. And, when you come home, I'm going to bend you over the couch and fuck you until you smell mine again."

Wade blinked at him wide-eyed, unable to believe what he was hearing.

Logan was just... Letting him go? Sending him out? Like this? He wasn't disgusted? Or jealous? Or weirded out?

Completely overwhelmed by how amazing his boyfriend was, Wade leaned down and kissed Logan senseless.

[zeawesomebirdie]

Okay but like. Being far enough along in my transition that i dont want to dress like the Haynes sisters anymore, i want to dress like Phil and Bob instead

As soon as i get top surgery i stg im going to get proper buttondowns and trousers

[stench-core]

I find it a bit strange how it's okay and normal to say trans men have 'afab privilege' but if you say trans women have 'amab privilege', that's bad and wrong and incorrect and also maybe you should kill yourself. strange stuff

somehow trans men were 'socialised female' and therefore can 'get away with being women' but trans women were not 'socialised male' and can't 'get away with being men' cos there's something inherently feminine, inherently queer about them.

though, i spent my whole life being called gay, getting asked if i was a butch lesbian, getting asked if i was a tranny, cos i wore pants [girls!] instead of skirts, cos i wore shirts [girls!] instead of blouses, cos i wouldn't wear dresses and would prefer [girls!] formal wear that weren't dresses, cos i liked bionicle instead of dolls, cos i played video games, cos i swore, cos i liked heavier music, cos my favourite colour wasn't pink, cos i wore caps. i would not say i fit into girlhood at all, actually.

but this masculinity was inherent to me, it still is, i couldn't and can not change it (despite trying, very hard, to my detriment) so i ALWAYS stuck out as being 'too masculine' for other girls. and then i come into queer spaces and i'm 'too masculine' for other queer people - but that's besides the point, currently.

so, currently, when i see people say 'trans women aren't "socialised male," that's not real, they always stick out as "other"' and then turn around and say 'trans men have afab privilege, they can be women to get away with things, they fit into girlhood so well' I can't help but become incredibly fucking frustrated. this is not true and actually it's something we have in common! neither of us were socialised 'correctly' cos we're both trans and raised amongst peers who were not trans!

everything from masculine girls to trans men do not fit into 'girlhood' cos masculinity is not what girlhood is meant to be. this shouldn't be hard to grasp. this is why the 'socialised' concept is bullshit cos it's founded on whatever was forced upon you as a kid and if you don't fit that standard you will not be socialised that way due to, in large part, being fucking ostracised from everyone else. and that doesn't mean there won't be things to unlearn, i know very many trans men who were very feminine for a long time and the opposite for trans women, but someone who clearly cannot fit what's being pushed onto them is going to come off as 'strange' and 'uncanny' to the people who can fit into what's pushed onto them.

but the way people talk about this really highlights to me that yous don't want to consider us trans in the first place - transness is for trans women and not for trans men, socialisation concepts are fake when it comes to trans women but real when it comes to trans men cos they're not really trans, 'amab privilege' would get you branded a TERF or radfem saying it to a trans woman but it's fine to say trans men, trans men have 'afab privilege' cos we're not trans, we're just women. you know until we get a little too rowdy and then we're not trans, we're just men.

maybe i'm just jaded and bitter. idk

[leo-muscle]

Kings of the World: Caribbean Waves

Kai knew he was far above the rest. Born into money and power, he got everything he wanted, exactly when he wanted it. Women, cars, planes, food... all at the drop of a dime. He dressed in designer suits, which he constantly bragged about the price of. He wanted the whole world to bow to him, and worship the very ground he walked on.

This leads to Kai's 22nd birthday party, taking place in the Bahamas. He had invited five of his wealthiest friends, the only people he deemed worthy of associating with. They had spent the entire month on Kai's father's dime with women, watersports, booze, and dice, all leading up to one final drinking night on Kai's actual day of birth aboard his luxury yacht, moored to a private island. The party was too much: strippers dotted the decks, fireworks went off every half hour, loud music floated about, and poker chips poured like honey. Kai himself sat at the head table with his five rich friends.

"Here's to one more year of life!" Kai cheered, his voice slurring.

"Hear, hear!" His friends replied, and they all chugged down their liquor like it was water.

"Alright, guys, I've got the next round coming!" Kai shouted, as he dashed back to the bar... only something was amiss.

The scantily-dressed barwoman was nowhere to be seen. Instead, an absolute giant of an irishman stood behind the bar, dancing to the beat of the music. He wore no shirt, just a bowtie with a nametag reading "Dom," and short shorts, accentuating his enormous muscles. An easy smile sat on his face, accented by the enormous emerald earring in his right ear. Just by being in the room with the man, Kai felt a need to compete with him.

"Where's Chrissy?" Kai asked, a simmer of anger in his voice.

"Ach, she was feeling a tad ill, so she came to fetch me." The bartender replied in a soothing Irish accent. "Watcha looking for tonight?"

"Something powerful and special." Kai said. "You'd know a thing or two about that."

The bartender's smile twitched. "I think I got just the thing for a birthday boy like you. Little something from back home, you aught to enjoy it."

The bartender turned around, and started pouring a variety of liquors into a shaker, then dancing to mix it all up. Kai couldn't stop looking at his ass: while Kai was incredibly straight, he could easily tell that this man had a great, bouncy bubble butt. His pecs too were incredible, the girls should be all over him-- why weren't they?

The bartender brought the shaker right up to his enormous left pec, opened it up, and dumped something in it that Kai couldn't see. He then presented the drink into a tall tankard. It was a sparkling emerald green, unlike any drink Kai had seen before.

"What is this shit?" Kai groaned.

"Special recipe of mine. You'll learn to make it yourself, someday."

"As if. People make my drinks, not the other way around."

Kai took a big swing of the emerald drink, chugging it all in one go. Instantly, he could feel his insides bubbling.

"Did you poison me?!" Kai screamed, but was inaudible over the clamor of the party.

"Nope." The bartender said. "Enjoy." And with that, he vanished.

Kai ran to the restroom as his muscles began burning and pulsing with new strength. He could barely make it to the bathroom before he began to shake, shiver, moan, and grow.

As Kai grew, a single thought entered his head.

My behavior is not suited for a King.

----------

Kai's friends were starting to wonder where their leader had gone, when suddenly, a single text appeared on their phones.

Kai: Everyone, come down to the island. There's someone you need to meet.

The group stumbled to the beach, where a single man awaited them, carrying four drinks with him. He was enormous, seven feet tall, and was a stunning example of peak masculinity. He was clearly from the islands around here: his beautiful, dark skin reflected the setting sun perfectly, while saltwater trickled through his tight curls, mustache, and goatee. His gigantic, bouncy, fuckable pecs sat atop a tight muscle gut, indented with the turtle-shell pattern of abs. His biceps outsized his head, and were crisscrossed with a pattern of veins showing his strength. His legs would have been incredibly oversized on any other man, but on him, they were glorious, perfect cylinders striated with pure strength, able to cut through water with ease. His ass was a perfect breeding site for any cock able to work its way past his thick muscle cheeks. An inviting aroma of saltwater and musk wafted from him, beckoning the boys over. It assaulted their nostrils, the scent unimpeded by clothes, for this beach hunk wore only a speedo and a necklace of purest silver. It smelled divine, and although these boys were straight before, this musk was worth far more than any feeble heterosexuality. They almost climbed over each other to get closer to the man.

"Now, now," The beach hunk said. "We can take me in some other time; I'm not the important one here. What is important, is you."

"What do you mean?" One of the rich boys asked. "You're perfect!"

"And you can be too." The beach hunk replied. "You boys want a drink?"

"Yes?" Another rich boy said.

"I made them myself," The beach hunk said, gesturing to the drinks in his hands. They gleamed a pure silver, like liquid mercury.

"From this big boy down here." He continued, patting the massive cock straining to break free of his speedo.

By this point, every single boy had a raging-hard on. They needed to know what this man tasted like. They dashed over to the beach hunk, and each grabbed a glass from the man's enormous hands, and drank the whole thing in one gulp each.

Instantly, their bodies expanded. Their thighs grew from twigs to tree trunks, laced with power. Their arms mirrored their King's, bursting with strength the size of coconuts. Their abs, one by one, popped into existence, forming tight eight-packs on all of their cores.

Soon, one boy started noticing how hot his neighbor was getting. While the beach hunk was a true being of masculinity, his friend was definitely becoming capable of rivaling him. He reached over to his friend's chest, and touched his nipple--

And suddenly, his friend's chest ballooned past almost every letter of the alphabet with mass, growing larger and darker and more sensitive, until his pecs were just as bouncy and voluptuous as his King's.

"B-bro..." He moaned. "I... I need you to touch them..."

His fellow transformee showed no slowness as he latched his rapidly-expanding hands onto his friend's enormous muscle tits, pawing and kneading the muscle and nipple. His friend moaned with pleasure. How could his chest feel so good?

The other two had noticed what their friends were doing, and immediately joined in. One began worshipping another's ass, while the final one began giving his friend a blowjob. Soon, their asses and dicks had all expanded into pillars and beautiful mounds of dark flesh, sensitive and plush, perfect for kneading. The friends grew closer and closer together, their hair darkening and tightening as they went, until they had all become a massive literal clusterfuck. Each man was sucking a nipple, taking a dick, fucking an ass, all in the most intense pleasure any of them had ever felt in their life.

Though, eventually, it was all too much. They felt their load coming right from their new enormous bull balls... and they just couldn't hold it any longer. In a burst of cum, they all released each other, panting on the sand in their beautiful new forms.

King Kai knew his new boys would make great citizens of his kingdom, but there was still much work to be done. He would go about this subtly, with his own line of drinks laced with kingly fluid. Soon, the islands would be peaceful, and everyone would live freely and without strife.

[leighsartworks216]

Prompt for whenever you want it: the reader grew up in a household where she wasn't allowed to be very feminine/like cute things. Her family was adamant that she be tough and that anything remotely feminine or pretty would be wasted on her. So she secretly likes cute and pretty things, but has internalized all the things her family told her so she never let's it show. I would love to see astarion pick up on it and how he would react? I just imagined one day he presents her with a delicate handkerchief with her initials (he embroidered them himself) and I practically bawled my eyes out 😭😭😭

Idk why I really struggled to write this one. I just had a hard time starting it. So I'd write an opening, hate it, leave it for a bit, come back, leave it again. But I finally got it to a point that I am happy with it

Astarion x fem!Tav/Reader

Warnings: vague references to trauma, self-doubt, swearing

Word Count: 1,041

Main Masterlist

Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

One gets quite good at reading people when that’s all you did for 200 years. Someone would twitch and Astarion could know exactly what they were thinking. Reading you was as easy as opening a book.

Every time you passed a market or merchant, Astarion could see the way your eyes flit longingly over jewelry or dresses. It was always brief. If the vendor noticed, they’d try pitching the item to you; the same old lines: “A beautiful necklace for a beautiful lady!” But you just smiled politely and shook your head, muttering how it wasn’t your style.

It was curious. Throughout your journey so far, he’d noticed other things, too. How you’d save the most beautiful, feminine dresses for your female companions. At first he just thought you wanted to give them something nice, but it was odd when you’d provide them an item much more suited to your strengths than their own. How your eyes would linger a little longer on flowers and lace gloves. But the moment you felt eyes on you, you’d turn away, the distant longing gleam in your eye replaced with a set determination.

He’d even caught you staring at the embroidery on his clothes once or twice.

(“Distracted, are we?”

“I was only wondering what it says. An odd poem for a shirt.”

“Hmph. Clearly it’s meaning is lost on you, darling.”)

So, with 200 years of experience, Astarion came to the only conclusion he could plausibly find. He accounted for your own attire - masculine or purely functional - your steadfast avoidance of anything feminine, the sorrow that visibly washed over you when you came across something particularly beautiful.

You didn’t allow yourself these things, because you couldn’t.

Well, you could, he supposed. But you weren’t. Perhaps, like him, you felt you didn’t deserve it. Or perhaps, like him, it had been ingrained into your very being that you couldn’t have it. Either way, the result was the same.

He wasn’t honestly sure what came over him when he realized. And it had taken him a few days to think about the idea that formulated unbidden, itching at the back of his mind in a way that put the tadpole to shame. But one night, after feeding (on you and a boar), he sat within his tent and got to work. He threaded the eyes of needles with practiced ease, steadily guided it back and forth through the material in his hands, creating elegant shapes. If he was being honest, it was some of his best work.

It took him even longer to gather the nerves to give it to you. You handed out gifts freely - armor, weapons, trinkets, blood. But he’d… well, he’d never really given anyone a gift before. Nothing as genuine as this, certainly. His mind, his own worst enemy aside from Cazador, kept plaguing him with thoughts of how you’d hate it. How you’d take one look at it, struggle through a smile, and tuck it away at the bottom of your bag. And so it remained in his belongings, safely hidden.

And then you just had to go and be so damn good. You just had to stand up to Araj Oblodra when she kept insisting he drink from her. You just had to quietly tell him that he could, if he wanted to, but only if he wanted to. And you just had to respect his choice. He’d never been so overwhelmed with emotion before. Nobody had ever done that for him. His choices didn’t matter, his comfort didn’t matter. But you didn’t even hesitate.

When you sought him out at camp later that night, you even told him he was free. No longer a slave who had to get on his back for mere breadcrumbs. Too many emotions - relief, fear, euphoria, worry, gratefulness - flooded his chest.

He cleared his throat. “There’s actually something I’ve been meaning to give you,” he admits with a nervous chuckle. “Consider it a… thanks, for what you did for me back there.”

He pulled the neat, white handkerchief from his pocket and presented it to you. Red eyes flit over your face, trying to read every little expression that passed, as you stared at the cloth. On the corner, embroidered in the same golden thread as he used on his shirt, were your initials. Immaculate and shiny.

Your mouth opened. Your eyes were wide, your brow furrowed and then raised. You struggled for words. You met his eyes with shock. “A-Are you sure? I mean, this is much too fine for me - I was happy to stand up for you - Not that you needed any help! I mean-”

“Darling,” he hushed. So you did enjoy it, after all. “It’s a gift. Consider it repayment for all the nights you’ve bared your neck for me, if nothing else. A simple exchange.”

A dying sound left your throat with a breath as you looked back down at the handkerchief. With shaky hands, you took it from him. You held it as though it was a religious artifact from the gods, not a folded square of soft silk with lace borders. It had the same smooth feel as running your fingers over the surface of still water. Tears welled at the corner of your eyes as you ran a thumb over the letters.

“I…” You took a shaky breath, looking up at him again through the building water in your eyes. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”

He smirked, though your blatant joy made his lips twitch into the start of a genuine smile. “You… deserve something nice. Something more than, well,” he gestured vaguely at your worn cotton attire, “this.”

You laughed and brushed away the tears beginning to slip down your cheeks with the back of your hands. “You’re still a bastard.”

“Oh, undoubtedly.”

“But a nice bastard.”

“Careful, darling.” He leaned forward with an even wider smirk, fangs peeking out as a mischievous twinkle glinted in his eye. “We wouldn’t want word getting out.”

And if he caught sight of that little cloth poking out from a pocket or resting at the top of your bag, well maybe he let himself enjoy that warmth in his chest.

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @lynnlovesloki @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @mheerdraws @kindadolly @httyd-chocolate @bloopthebat @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @olitheghostboy-blog @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171

[whiteboi-inferiority]

Some of you been trying to get in touch lately. That's cool.

If you're just swinging by to say hi and thanks, then what follows doesn't apply to you.

You want me to talk to you though? Some hints and tips (and very common mistakes to avoid) that will increase your chances of an actual conversation or two and from there, who knows.

The best way is to have a blog with some original content. Pics of you, stories, captions, whatever. I'm looking for commitment and authenticity, some skin in the game, some evidence of actual fucking effort. In your message don't just fawn. I don't need that. Be brief, be articulate, be confident in what you like and what you bring to the table and be clear on why you want a place with me, specifically, over any generic black guy or Dom. Job interview etiquette applies and know I get 4 or 5 'candidates' a day. Respect the fact I am a busy guy with a life away from here, several real life submissives, and several more long distance things going on. My girls, gurls and bois are all different, all exquisite, and they all interest me in different ways. It's on you to show me what i'm missing and why I'm going to make time for you. Be a muse, be amusing. Wow me.

So!

If you have an empty blog, don't bother. I'm not interested in lurkers.

If your blog is just reposts of the usual stuff I've seen 100 times before, don't bother.

If you're just going to start contact with 'hey...', don't bother. I'm not interested.

If you're just looking for someone, anyone, to Dom you for the 2 minutes it takes for you to jerk off, don't bother. I'm not a jack off service.

If your blog is full of explicit hard core porn, don't bother - your account will be deactivated soon and you'll probably be disappeared before we start chatting away from here anyway. You don't represent a good ROI of my time. Of the 4 or 5 of you that make contact today, 2 of you will be gone tomorrow, and at least 1 more within the month. Even duvluvv and bangmybully my previous mainstays and inspo on this blog have managed to fuck that up and get themselves banned.

Unless your wife/gf/mom/daughter is hot, living near me and interested in hooking up, I don't care that you wish you could see them suck a cock like a Blacked girl right in front of you. If I can't see it, smell it, hear it, taste it or feel it - if its not actually going to happen on my cock - I don't care.

Outright headcanon fantasists and part-timers who 'don't need to dress up because they can imagine it so well...', hard pass. If I tell you to feminise yourself, take a pic in a certain pose, jerk off a certain way or make a post about something it isn't a question of whether you feel you need that to sustain your little fantasy. It's a question of whether you're going to pay the price of submission to talk to me. If you can't or won't follow simple instruction, then I have no interest in you.

Those of you who confuse sissy with trans, hard pass. Trans women are women. You are not a woman just because you fantasise about being sexually submissive and effeminate around a black man. You're a sissy, a toy, a whiteboi fuckdoll. That's all. If you can't or don't accept that, don't bother. Trans and sissy = OK. Thinking sissy makes you trans = not OK.

FLR, ABDL, Gooners: kittens I adore seeing you relinquish your masculinity and pride to roll around in your own shame and filth. But to be clear: these kinks are your weaknesses, not my interests. I cater to you because my mission is to enable every single last one of you whiteboi fucks to become codependent emasculated bottom-feeders of one kind or another, willingly, done by yourselves to yourselves, stripped of the convenient deniability of coercion. I'm fixing to cook and push good quality junk so you can fuck yourselves up, not share the needle. Definitely not looking to change your fucking diapers.

If you clearly haven't read this pinned note, don't bother.

Stay sticky, losers

D

[sosuigeneris]

why is being feminine seen as catering to patriarchy?

I enjoy putting on my make up, heels, I like looking good, I enjoy traditionally “feminine activities” like baking and cooking, I love a good gossip session with my girls, I’m empathetic and warm when I want to be, I can be very nurturing if I choose to be, I want kids someday and I want to be married. I can do all these things and still work my ass off in my business, close massive deals, be invited to speak for interviews, and conferences, be perceived as a leader without emulating alpha male behaviour.

By saying that doing feminine things caters to the male gaze and patriarchy, you’re putting women down. You’re inherently stating that being masculine is “correct” and “cool” and enjoying being feminine is “weak” and “vulnerable.”

oooooh buT YoUre doInG aLL tHiS fOr a MaN-

and even if I did, sometimes, do those things because I like a boy - what’s the issue?? If I’m invited on a date and I like him, and I want to look great, what’s the ISSUE? If he’s going to show up dressed well and groomed to look good for me, why won’t I? And if you’re going to choose to go out with a man who is an absolute dusty rat that doesn’t care about his appearance and hygiene, sorry but that’s on YOU. The first date might be a human error of judgement which happens, but going on a second date with said rat is unforgivable.

“meN aRe NeVeR subJecTed to tHesE stAndarDs”

by YOU. I sure hold men by the same standards that I hold myself. My standards are high. Just the way I hold myself to a certain standard, I hold men to the same. I’m not going to muck around with a guy who clearly does not meet my expectations. I’ve told off men for bad breath, bad manners, I ensure that my brothers and my closest guy friends are always looking good when needed, and I tell them when they do and don’t. I surround myself with good male friends I know I’d be ecstatic to marry my sister off to. Don’t pretend like your shitty low standards and mine are the same.

I don’t believe in blame game and low standards and it shows.

You guys really need to understand that it is alright to be multifaceted. Just because I enjoy baking doesn’t mean that I don’t like adventure sports, just because I enjoy doing my self care and meditation doesn’t mean I don’t understand politics and history and “Big Boy Subjects.” I may not enjoy F1 and sports but there are girls out there who do, and they also enjoy wearing dresses.

stop the unnecessary labelling and categorisation of people.

[pansy-picnics]

A vat7k related question.

What do you think is Hugo's gender identity? Cus I want to hear what you think Hugo's gender is and the story behind it.

EHEHEHE personally i think she’s genderfluid and uses he/she/they pronouns…….I think he was kind of an uncracked egg up until the trials though. like, he’s been in survival mode for so long that he’s never had the time or luxury to really think about himself or his identity….i think he’s had a lot of different disguises over his career though, and those personas are either male or female depending on what the situation calls for so he’s not a stranger to dressing femininely either.

but yeah…i think for a long time hugo just identified as male by default cuz like…what else would he be LOL. if he had any doubts at all they weren’t significantly hindering him or anything so he just buried them with all the other of the emotions he doesn’t want to feel. but like the closet is made of GLASS and this becomes especially obvious when she teams up with 3 other teenagers who are also transgender so sometimes she’ll just Say Shit and they all turn around and look at her like “…….🤨”

i have this very vivid scene in my head where varian comes out to the gang as trans and hes clearly really uneasy abt it. and hugo doesn’t know what to say so he just tries to relate by saying the first thing that comes to mind and goes “oh yeah i get it i mean. sometimes i wish i was a girl but like not all the time yk” and nuru and varian both just stop and stare at him

hugo, getting nervous: …Sorry that’s probably not the same thing forget i said anything

nuru: No i think we should talk about this?

anyways yeah….other than her traveling party giving her some weird looks nothing actually really came of these conversations bc hugo would refuse to think about herself even if you put a gun to her head

fast forward to post-trials though, and hugo’s been living in the castle with varian for about six months…it was REALLY messy for both of them while she was adjusting, but at this point shes finally started to let her guard down a little, and all of a sudden she has SO much free time and she has no idea what to do with any of it. she’s stealing collecting things, tinkering with all kinds of useless little gadgets, rapunzel is teaching her tons of little arts and crafts projects. overall shes pretty content despite everything. So anyways then the gender crisis hits them like a fucking freight train

honestly i’m like half joking when i say i think it started bc they just kept forgetting to cut their hair. like one day they looked in the mirror and they’re like “wow my hairs getting so long i kinda look like a girl lol. Wait”

AND AS FUNNY AS IT IS ITS SO. WILDLY UNFAMILIAR TO THEM. like all of a sudden theyre SO insecure for as far as they can tell, NO reason and it drives them CRAZY. i dont even think that hugo dislikes their masculine features after coming out, i think they embrace them if anything but its just like…going from 0 to 100 so fast and suddenly being so hyper aware of themselves in a way that they NEVER were before…having to realize that they’re definitely Not cis. it’s fucking TERRIFYING!!!

not to mention it hits him all at once during a time when he’s still frankly really paranoid about him and varian’s relationship, and he’s kinda walking on eggshells bc deep down he’s convinced that var’s just gonna get tired of him eventually and kick him out. its like he’s just waiting for the final nail in the coffin despite the fact that there is literally no coffin.

All that being said i think it takes him a while to work up the courage to talk to varian about it. and he knows he won’t like. hate him for being trans or anything (I sure hope he wouldn’t, at least, seeing as he is literally also trans) but varian’s already done SO much for him and helped him through literally everything already….he doesn’t want to burden him any more than he already has. he also cant comprehend that someone can just Like him, like, as a person, so he’s convinced himself that varian must see something specific in him right now and he’s afraid that if he changes himself drastically in any way then whatever varian saw in him just. won’t be there anymore. If that makes sense

as for who he actually goes to first- honestly i think it’d have to be lance. at least in my head lance was the first person hugo really started to bond with aside from varian….he didn’t start letting his guard down with rapunzel until quite a while after that. also i think he’s worried that if he tells rapunzel she’d end up accidentally spilling something to varian (which is like. Valid bc she’s a horrible liar) he’d definitely write a letter to nuru, too, but nuru is also in another kingdom, and that message takes a while to get to her, so it’s more something they talk about after the fact

when he finally does get a letter back after dumping this revelation on her it’s just like

“dearest hugo. upon reading your letter i desperately wanted to tell you that i told you so, but i realize that would be in poor taste, seeing as you are clearly struggling right now. Moreover,-“ /j

regardless of who she tells first, they obviously all support her and encourage her to talk to varian as well…And ofc varian hypes her up to no end when she finally does. i wanna say it’s a sweet emotional scene but i feel like varian was also under the assumption that she figured out the gender thing like a year ago /j

hugo: ,,,,so like. i don’t think i’m a guy

varian: . yeah?

hugo:

hugo: TFYM “YEAH”?????!!!!???

varian: D. DID WE NOT ALREADY KNOW THIS?

hugo: ,???? NO???!!???!

jokes aside though as soon as hugo does decide he wants to explore his presentation more varian immediately consults rapunzel who gets WAY too excited about it and it kind of scares hugo a little bit. /j like Do you want to cut your hair? Dye it? Do you want new piercings? TATTOOS????

they eventually just settle on getting her a few new pieces to add to her wardrobe and that works out fine. varian sees his girlfriend in a dress and loses his mind etc etc. All is right in the world

[venuscnjunctpluto]

Astro pt 3.

Credit: @venuscnjunctpluto

(I’m on spring break and literally have 50 other things I should be doing but we’re back at it again folks😝)

Venus conjunct saturn women 🤝 men w mommy issues

The worst moon square moon beef I’ve seen is Taurus and Aquarius. Both won’t let it go like the Taurus moon thinks they’re making sense while the Aquarius moon wants to seem unbothered it’s a mess.

Taurus Venus people are so beautiful (ex: Victoria Monet, Ariana Grande, Leighton Meester, Cillian Murphy, Matthew Gray Gubler, plus my mom💕)

There are three types of Aquarius risings: one who walks around in pajamas and chokers, one who is legit a model, and the one who wears graphic t shirts and multiple finger rings)

Also I notice a lot of aqua rising women love dressing masculine (ex: Zendaya, Nicki Minaj, and Aaliyah) if you see a girl w her pants sagging with her hat turned backwards w every color of the rainbow on. just know she’s a aqua rising.

Sag Venus women are bisexual ex: Erica Mena, Nicki Minaj, and me lol

Most kpop stans have libra placements and this is coming from a libra moon

Underdeveloped Men w Fixed sign placements are such incel. Leo esp mars when their ego gets hurt they cannot take it. Aquarius thinks they’re too good and smart for women so they can’t understand why no one wants to be around them. Do I even need to explain Taurus and Scorpio?😭

Pieces Venuses are down bad ex: the men crave a manic pixie dream partner and when they can’t live up to the natives fantasy; they cheat. The women are usually loyal but they are blind asf and will neglect and abandon their relationships w others just for their partner who may or may not be trash. On a good note; they are very very very giving in relationships and so sweet but just because y’all can give doesn’t mean you have to constantly.

Brent faiyaz and Jungkook have Scorpio Mars😮‍💨 I don’t know what it is but I wanna date one so bad. What’s y’all experiences?

Certain signs and placements date people w similar charts. Like I notice Taurus suns usually date eachother bc who else is about to put up w them (just kidding…no I’m not🙂) also Scorpio placements (ex: future and Ciara, Megan fox and machine gun Kelly, Karruche and Chris brown…these are terrible examples😭)

As far as Venus conjunct ascendant synastry…I honestly only feel the tension when I’m the ascendant. Whenever my Venus conjuncts someone’s asc it doesn’t really move me like I don’t think they’re unattractive I just don’t really gaf. Their personalities are fun because my sag Venus and mars knows they can take a joke. I think Scorpio/8th house doesn’t really care too much about looks and appearances. In fact I notice Scorpio Venus men view the people they date as beneath them in some way and they do that to feel comfortable as if that person can’t get better and leave or cheat.

I always tell people I don’t have a type which I kinda don’t aesthetically but: Virgo rising, moon-Pluto or Scorpio moons, Virgo mars, Taurus suns w aqua moons, air venuses or mars, libra risings, Scorpio mars😚

Blueface and Chrisean have Venus square pluto synastry. When I say they are the most exaggerated example of this synastry it’s crazy. She clearly seems trauma bonded and believes she’s truly in love with this man (Venus). While he’s using her for money (pluto) and maintaining control over her at all times. That’s another thing w Venus Pluto synastry the venus person looks worse in the public eye because we’re always outwardly vulnerable (the good and bad) while Pluto doesn’t show just how insane they are overtly. But he’s the jealous one because peep how mad and aggressive he gets when she gets any sort of attention outside of him (ex: when Drake followed her and he twisted it to be related to him) Pluto really thinks they OWN the Venus person like that Brent lyric “they only wanna fuck with you cause they know I fuck with you” that’s their mentality. (They’re both physically abusive to eachother and need to breakup asap)

Also everyone talks about how much she’s changed for the worst since she got w him. Her missing tooth and getting multiple tattoos of that man. I’ve seen this guy w his Venus square his ex’s Pluto and he looked terrible while w her and when they broke up he got hisself together. My conjunction synastry took me from wearing bold colors to black for months😭

Sag placements esp Venus or mars men are bow legged asf

Lana Del Rey’s catalog is the epitome of 8th house stellium. Constant changes, a certain loneliness that doesn’t go away, learning and growing, but also never giving up hope.🦋

Cancer mars men and their pregnancy fetish…lil durk has like 5,000 kids and his ex India said that she wanted another baby because of how affectionate he was when she was pregnant.

A lot of football/soccer player have air mars. (Ex: mason mount, kylian mbappe, phil foden)

Women w sun-Neptune, Uranus, pluto may have terrible relationships w men bc of their relationship w their father

Aqua, sag, and cap placements are funny asf😭 I’m one of them and I don’t even try but people are always dying laughing around me

I’ve been in two “lust” triangles and both pairs had one Taurus placement friend and one Scorpio placement friend. The Taurus friend (literally both of them had birthday two days apart) liked me and had their Scorpio friend (one was a Scorpio Venus and the other was a Scorpio mars) spy on me or maybe they just offered😭 long story short the Scorpio friend ended up liking me in both situations I just✨felt✨ it. Taurus and Scorpio are both sneaky and possessive they have opposite energy and it’s very likely they could like the same people. It gets complicated because Scorpio is more likely to keep their crush a secret which can cause unintended overlap.

Capricorn mars: I don’t get mad like I rarely get upset😐

Us all hearing them yell behind closed doors and come out like nothing happened:

[abyssal-author-and-artist]

Pacifica Northwest is transmasc and you can't change my mind

Okay. That sounds insane. I am aware. It sounds insane to me. But fuck it - I already did the trans Dipper rant essay and so I'll do the same with trans Pacifica.

So Pacifica grows up rich with very oppressive parents. She's clearly a child of abuse who likely has no sense of identity. She's forced to fit a strict mold of The Perfect Daughter. Someone who is perfect and demure and pristine and womanly and who has to wear the right color dress and can't just wear something close enough because otherwise she gets something implied to be very bad.

Put another way: A kid is forced to be exactly perfect and the definition of whatever their gender is. They are not allowed to deviate from that definition in the least otherwise Bad Things happen. They're scared to even be slightly different.

Sound familiar? Because a lot of trans kids go through the same thing. A lot of trans femme people have to play with the Boy Toys because otherwise they're a flower boy and that's bad (which in itself is bad because flower boy is old slang for gay/derogatory as well as gender expression and identity being different but it also hurts trans people). A lot of transmasc people have to play dress up because if they don't there's Something Wrong with them.

I am more than 90% certain that it wasn't intentional, but looking at Pacifica through the lens of someone who tried to do a Boy Thing once and was forced to be hyperfemme for the rest of their life is just so good to me.

Pacifica embodies a lot of toxic girl tropes. You've heard of toxic masculinity, now get ready for toxic femininity - she's petty and superficial and puts too much stock in appearances. Which, granted, is a thing that happens in girl friend groups - I've seen it happen many times - but it reads as different to me. This isn't malice, Pacifica has been shown to be a good person (The Golf War, Northwest Mansion Mystery). She cares for those around her and often only acts the way she does because she has to. Any time she tries to speak up, she gets ruthlessly shut down. She has to be what her parents want, when they want, how they want. If she doesn't, she gets punished.

Yes, Pacifica shows up to every event dressed femme. But who drove her to those events? Who has their claws in every aspect of the town? Who would hear about anything that happens in Gravity Falls? Who buys her clothes? Her parents. And if her parents - who, again, are likely abusive - want her to be and dress like their perfect little girl, their hyperfemme daughter, then she will. She has to be.

From a writing perspective, Pacifica is made to be the opposite of Mabel. One loves fun and color and chaos, is nice no matter what. The other is sitting outside this room and named Pacifica Northwest. But looking at it like that, why wouldn't Pacifica be trans? Especially if Mabel is transfemme - which is a fun reading of her and one that I love to see. It's not canon but think about it. If Mabel is transfemme then Pacifica - her inverse - would be transmasc. The other end of the spectrum.

But now I need real evidence, right? My transmasc Dipper essay was built on much more than "this is behavior seen in a lot of trans people just generally". I pointed out specific scenes in specific episodes - though I forgot Carpet Diem, which is fascinating and which I could so make an essay on by itself. Can I do that for Pacifica?

Well, the short answer is no. The best evidence I have is a general hand-wave at her behavior and environment and "this just reads as transmasc to me". Which, to be completely fair, is how headcanons work. They don't necessarily need any degree of proof. It's nice and it can help people to agree with you, but in the end, it doesn't matter. I can say I headcanon anything, and because it's a headcanon, you can't do shit about it. If I say Pacifica is transmasc beyond a shadow of a doubt, then you can challenge me.

To be fair, I did say that. The title of this is literally "Pacifica is transmasc and you can't change my mind", I will take that I was making claims. But also I immediately followed that up with "it sounds insane to me" so I should hope we all know that I'm going into headcanons-based-on-the-text territory.

And I'm never going to attack someone over a headcanon that makes someone feel seen, and I'd hope that holds true for everyone. I like Pacifica as transmasc and forcing herself into the box of cis female when it's wrong because I did the same. I love transmasc Pacifica. I love the idea of Pacifica and Dipper hanging out and him telling her that he's trans and Pacifica just kinda goes "you can do that? But then why doesn't everyone? Being a girl kinda sucks - there's girl drama and dresses and girl puberty and all that stuff. Everyone would be a guy if they could" and Dipper gives her The Look and says "Pacifica Northwest, that is the most trans thing I have ever heard".

In conclusion, I headcanon trans masculine Pacifica Northwest. Still workshopping a chosen name for him but I do, and I love him. It's all silly fun headcanoning a children's cartoon character as trans and it hurts no one. And it doesn't even affect a lot of the things I'll do. I have one fic that will hint at it and one that will treat it as the main center of the story planned. (It will be a part of my AU but not a major part and I'm also playing with the thought of gender-fluid Pacifica for Divine Falls. It's entirely ignorable and will not affect anything related to the main AU's plot.)

Yes I referred to Pacifica as she/her for most of this essay but it was referring to a pre-realization Pacifica who isn't out yet and thus would convince herself that she was uncomfortable with he/him pronouns and therefore calling them he/him would be wrong until he came out.

[anastasiareadsnwrites]

Hi, could you maybe write a Anthony Bridgerton x male reader where Anthony is a transvestite/crossdresser?

Maybe the ton and his family are aware of this and they don't mind that Anthony is a crossdresser/transvestite and he goes to the balls dressed as a woman or at least in women's outfits. also when he is out and about he sometimes crossdresses too. Maybe Anthony could meet a man in the same class as him and they fall in love. Also when Anthony is crossdressing he could use the name Antonia or something like that.

I hope this isn't too odd, I would totally understand if you don't want to write it :)

As It Was (Anthony Bridgerton x Male! Reader)

Author's note: I most certainly love how creative you are, darling. I won't have came up with anything like this. Absolutely wonderful!

Summary: Anthony Bridgerton, known to some as Antonia when crossdressing, navigates his dual identity with ease, supported by his family and the Ton. At a lavish ball, he meets a man from his social class, and they quickly form a deep bond. Despite societal expectations, the two fall in love, embracing both Anthony’s masculine and feminine sides.

Warning(s): Crossdressing, !trans theme!, Mild discussions of societal expectations, Romantic and Emotional intimacy

The MAIN Masterlist

The Bridgerton Masterlist

Anthony Bridgerton, or Antonia, as he was known during certain evenings, strolled through the lavish ballroom with a grace and elegance that few could match. His family, the Bridgertons, were well aware of his proclivity for wearing women's clothing, and it never phased them. In fact, his mother, Violet, had always said, "You wear what makes you feel yourself, my dear."

The Ton had long accepted it as well. Anthony often dressed in elegant gowns or delicate, feminine attire. Tonight, he wore a flowing lavender gown with lace-trimmed sleeves and a sapphire pendant around his neck. His hair, usually well-groomed for his masculine persona, was styled in loose waves, framing his sharp jawline with a soft touch.

As Antonia, he felt more free—more able to express the parts of himself that society often tried to suppress.

Across the room, you stood observing the crowd. As a man of Anthony’s class, you had heard whispers of his crossdressing tendencies, but seeing him—her—tonight stirred something new within you. The way he moved, the confidence in his gaze as he mingled, was unlike anything you had ever encountered.

Soon enough, your eyes locked. Antonia, noticing your gaze, smiled with a mischievous glint, a perfect combination of Anthony's usual charisma and the demure charm he adopted when crossdressing. She gracefully made her way toward you, the swish of her gown sweeping across the floor like a gentle breeze.

“Good evening,” she said, her voice soft yet unmistakably Anthony’s beneath the affectation. “You seem lost in thought.”

“Not lost, merely captivated,” you replied, unable to tear your gaze from her.

She raised a brow, clearly entertained by your response. “Captivated by what, if I may ask?”

You swallowed, taken aback by how her mere presence affected you. “By your… confidence. I’ve never seen anyone quite like you.”

A slow smile spread across her lips. “I’m not like most, I suppose. You’re new to the Ton, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you nodded. “Just recently returned from my travels abroad. I’m still adjusting.”

“Well, then you should know that I—Antonia—am a frequent sight at these events,” she said playfully, offering her hand. “Shall we dance?”

Without hesitation, you accepted her hand, leading her to the dance floor. As you both moved in rhythm with the music, you found yourself forgetting about the curious eyes of the Ton. All you could focus on was the closeness between you, the soft fragrance of her perfume, and the way her smile seemed to warm your very soul.

After the dance, the two of you stepped outside onto the terrace for some fresh air. The moonlight cast a soft glow over Antonia’s features, and for a moment, you forgot entirely that this was the Viscount Anthony Bridgerton before you.

“May I ask something?” you inquired, hesitant but curious.

She turned to face you fully, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Of course.”

“When you’re like this… as Antonia… does it feel different?”

She smiled gently, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of her gown. “It does. When I’m Antonia, I feel free. Like I don’t have to be the strict, responsible head of the family all the time. I can simply be myself—whoever that is in the moment. Does that scare you?”

You shook your head, stepping closer. “No, it doesn’t scare me. In fact, I think it’s… incredible.”

Antonia’s breath caught in her throat as you reached out to touch her hand, your thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles. The connection between you two was undeniable, and it was clear that neither of you could ignore it any longer.

“Do you prefer me as Antonia?” she asked softly.

“I prefer you as you are, whatever form that may take,” you answered sincerely.

Her eyes softened, and in that moment, Anthony—Antonia—knew that this was the beginning of something profound. A relationship built not on the conventions of society but on the acceptance of every part of each other, both seen and unseen.

As the evening wore on, you and Antonia continued to talk, laugh, and share a connection neither of you had expected. And from that night forward, whenever Anthony chose to be Antonia, you were always by her side, falling more and more in love with every passing day���no matter which persona he chose to embrace.

In the days following the ball, the memory of Antonia haunted your thoughts. There was something about Anthony’s duality—his confidence as both the Viscount and the graceful woman who swept you off your feet—that intrigued you. Despite the whispers of the Ton, you found yourself drawn more to him. He had revealed a part of himself that few dared to show, and you couldn’t help but admire that.

Weeks passed, and you crossed paths with Anthony several times in the usual social circles. Some days, he was the stern, decisive Viscount Bridgerton, commanding attention with a sharp wit and natural authority. Other days, you spotted Antonia—her elegant dresses flowing as she mingled with the ladies of society, her smile warm and her demeanor softer, yet still unmistakably strong.

Each time, whether as Anthony or Antonia, your connection deepened.

It was at another ball, hosted by the Bridgertons, that things truly shifted. You arrived fashionably late, scanning the room, searching for Anthony, or perhaps Antonia. Sure enough, there she was—Antonia—dressed in a stunning emerald gown that shimmered beneath the chandeliers. Her long gloves reached to her elbows, and a delicate silver necklace adorned her neck. She moved gracefully through the crowd, her head held high, as though she were born to wear such attire.

And then, as if sensing your presence, she glanced up and saw you. Her lips curled into a small smile, and she excused herself from a conversation before making her way toward you.

“You’re becoming a regular at these balls,” she teased, her voice lilting with amusement.

“I could say the same about you,” you replied, offering your arm. “Shall we take a walk?”

She accepted your arm without hesitation, and the two of you strolled through the grand halls of the Bridgerton estate, away from the prying eyes of the guests.

“I must admit,” you began, glancing at her, “seeing you as Antonia feels... different, yet the same.”

Her brow arched. “Different how?”

“I think I admire your courage even more,” you confessed, your voice soft but sincere. “You wear what makes you feel comfortable, even when society can be harsh.”

Antonia paused, her expression thoughtful. “It’s not always easy. There are days when I wonder if people truly see me as I am. But I’ve come to realize that I can’t live for others’ expectations. I have to live for myself.”

Her words stirred something deep within you. This was the heart of Anthony Bridgerton, no matter what clothes he wore or what name he used. He—she—was someone who defied the rigid rules of the Ton, refusing to be boxed in by expectations.

As you reached the quiet gardens of the estate, you both stopped by a small fountain, the gentle sound of water trickling filling the silence between you. Antonia turned to you, her face illuminated by the soft glow of lanterns.

“Do you ever feel like you don’t belong?” she asked quietly.

You took a deep breath, considering her question. “Yes, sometimes. But it’s different now.”

Her gaze softened, and she stepped closer, her hand brushing against yours. “Why?”

“Because of you,” you admitted. “With you, I feel like I’m finally where I’m meant to be.”

Antonia’s breath caught, and for a moment, you feared you had said too much. But then, she smiled��a real, genuine smile that lit up her entire face.

“You make me feel the same,” she whispered.

Without thinking, you gently cupped her cheek, your thumb tracing her soft skin. The lines between Anthony and Antonia blurred in your mind. All you saw was the person in front of you—the one who had stolen your heart.

“I don’t care what name you go by or what clothes you wear,” you said, your voice steady and sincere. “I care about you.”

Antonia’s eyes glistened with emotion, and she leaned in, her lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. It was soft at first, hesitant, as though testing the waters. But soon, the kiss deepened, and you could feel the weight of unspoken feelings between you.

When you finally pulled away, Antonia rested her forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavily in the quiet of the garden.

“Does this mean you’re courting me now?” she teased, her voice light but her eyes serious.

You chuckled softly, still holding her close. “I suppose it does.”

Antonia’s lips curled into a smile, and she whispered, “Then let’s see where this takes us.”

From that moment on, your relationship with Anthony—or Antonia—only grew stronger. You both navigated the complexities of society together, hand in hand. Whether at balls or in the quiet privacy of your homes, Anthony embraced both sides of himself with you by his side.

The Ton may have had their opinions, but to you, Anthony was perfect—no matter what name he wore or which clothes adorned his frame. You had found someone who defied the conventions of society, and in doing so, had found a love that was as unconventional as it was real.

The weeks that followed your first kiss were filled with quiet moments and stolen glances. It seemed that in every setting—whether it was in the public eye, as Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, or in private, as Antonia—your bond deepened. The Ton had its gossip, as it always did, but you both were too absorbed in each other to care.

One evening, Violet Bridgerton hosted a grand dinner at the family estate. The guest list was selective, filled with the most prominent members of society, and you, of course, were among the attendees. Anthony, dressed in his typical masculine attire for the event, was the perfect host. He was charming and composed, his every movement calculated to impress.

But every now and then, when no one else was looking, he would glance at you with a smile only you could recognize—the smile that belonged to Antonia.

After dinner, as the guests mingled, you excused yourself and made your way to the Bridgerton family’s private library, needing a moment to collect your thoughts. Anthony followed shortly after, closing the door behind him.

“Didn’t expect to find you here,” he said softly, his familiar voice bringing a sense of calm.

“I needed a moment away from all the chatter,” you admitted, turning to face him. “Sometimes, it’s all a bit much.”

Anthony stepped closer, his gaze softening as he studied you. “I feel the same. At times, I wish I could just shed the weight of it all—the expectations, the responsibility. When I’m Antonia, I feel free from that, if only for a little while.”

You nodded in understanding, knowing that the roles he played—both as the Viscount and as Antonia—were each a part of him, but neither defined him completely.

Without another word, Anthony crossed the room and sat beside you. He reached out, taking your hand in his, his fingers tracing small, gentle circles on your skin.

“Do you ever wish we could just… disappear?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You looked into his eyes, seeing the vulnerability there—the weight of everything he carried. You squeezed his hand gently. “Sometimes. But wherever we go, whatever we do, as long as I’m with you, I’ll be happy.”

Anthony’s lips curved into a soft smile, and he leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. For a moment, the world outside those walls didn’t exist. There were no titles, no rules, no expectations—just the two of you.

But even in the privacy of the library, you knew the world was waiting just outside. Anthony had obligations, and so did you. Yet, in this moment, you both let yourselves exist in a space where nothing else mattered.

“I want to show you something,” Anthony whispered, breaking the silence. “Come with me.”

He stood and led you through the back corridors of the Bridgerton estate, his hand firmly in yours. You weren’t sure where he was taking you, but you trusted him implicitly. Soon, you found yourselves at a private wing of the house, where few ever ventured. He opened the door to one of the rooms, and you stepped inside.

It was beautifully decorated, with soft fabrics draped over the bed and elegant gowns hanging neatly in a wardrobe. But it was the vanity table, covered in delicate jewelry and perfumes, that told you exactly whose room this was.

“This is where Antonia lives,” Anthony said softly, his voice filled with a quiet pride.

You walked further into the room, touching the fabrics and looking at the gowns. “It’s beautiful.”

Anthony moved behind you, resting his hands on your shoulders. “I come here when I need to be her, when I need to escape. It’s… my sanctuary.”

Turning to face him, you smiled. “Thank you for showing me this. It means a lot that you’d share this part of yourself with me.”

His eyes softened, and for a moment, there was silence between you. Then, slowly, Anthony stepped away and moved toward the wardrobe. With a thoughtful expression, he pulled out a gown—a deep burgundy dress with intricate embroidery along the bodice.

“I think it’s time for Antonia to make an appearance,” he said with a smile.

You watched in awe as Anthony shed his masculine attire, carefully stepping into the gown. His movements were practiced, elegant, and soon enough, Antonia stood before you, her hair brushed back in soft waves, and her lips painted a subtle shade of rose.

“What do you think?” she asked, twirling slightly to show off the dress.

“You look stunning,” you replied honestly, your voice filled with admiration.

Antonia walked over to the mirror, adjusting a strand of her hair before turning to face you once more. “It’s strange, isn’t it? How different I can feel depending on what I wear.”

“Not strange at all,” you said, stepping closer to her. “You’re still you, whether you’re in a gown or a suit. But I can see how this allows you to be more of who you are.”

Antonia smiled, a soft blush rising in her cheeks. “I’m glad you understand.”

Without hesitation, you pulled her into your arms, holding her close. “I don’t just understand. I love you for it.”

The words hung in the air between you, but you didn’t feel nervous saying them. It felt right, like they had been waiting to be spoken.

Antonia’s breath hitched, and she looked up at you, her eyes shimmering with emotion. “I love you too,” she whispered.

And with those words, everything seemed to fall into place. You kissed her, slow and tender, your hands gently tracing the outline of her waist. The connection between you both had always been undeniable, but now, it felt stronger than ever.

As the night wore on, the two of you stayed in that room, talking, laughing, and simply being together. You told her stories of your travels, and she shared her dreams of a future where the two of you could live without the constraints of societal expectations.

By the time the morning light crept through the windows, you both knew that what you had was something rare—something that transcended names, titles, or appearances.

Antonia may have been the softer side of Anthony, but in truth, you loved all of him. And as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, the Ton would continue to gossip and speculate. But none of that mattered to you or to Anthony. Together, you had found something far more important: acceptance, love, and the freedom to be exactly who you were meant to be.

And that, you both knew, was all that truly mattered.

[velvetvexations]

I'm not a trans woman, just a trans person who has been very active in trans and queer spaces, so it actually makes me really sad to see so many transradfems absolutely vilify femboys and gnc men because from what I've seen a LOT of trans women start out as gnc "men" or femboys or drag queens even just expiriementing in a safe place that welcomes that before realizing they're actually women and heading out(or even still being there hanging with the people who welcomed them when they were unsure and needed a community that wouldn't treat them like a freak for saying "I don't want to be masculine anymore").

Like so many trans men and mascs start out ID-ing as butch lesbians or just butches/tomboys in general and they don't turn around and vilify non-transmasc butches and tomboys as like...transandrophobes or women play acting as men, and most of them keep their ties to that community because again, that's where they were welcomed and sheltered while they figured stuff out.

And I know SO many asexuals who thought they were bi before realizing they were ace and while that isn't exactly the same they don't like, turn around and attack bi people for welcoming them as a member of the club when they needed support.

I mean it is just my perspective and I'm just one person and again I'm not a trans woman but nearly every trans woman I know who didn't like come out as a 6 year old started out just dressing up as a girl for fun first and hanging out in gnc, femboy, and drag spaces. And isn't this also why we have egg jokes about femboys and gnc men(as much as I don't like them)?? Because it's common to start off there before cracking and realizing "oh I'm a girl actually"? Why are transradfems being like "yeah I started here but everyone ELSE there is a transphobic freak" like???

It just...idk it's really sad to see transradfems attack gnc men and femboys and drag queens even because like, you obviously don't owe them anything or have to view them as your saviors or whatever but there's undeniable community overlap and seeing that ignored in favor of pretending anyone wearing woman's clothes while IDing as a man is clearly a massive transmisognist freak who deserves to be attacked when that's what a lot of trans women started out as is like...what?

Makes me really sad. We're supposed to be in this together, right? We're all deviants in one way or another, I even count otherwise cishet but still gnc men as my queer allies, like it or not imo back when Finnster ID-ed as a cishet man I still thought they were one of us(I mean getting banned from twitch for adjusting your bra strap seems like some textbook misogyny and even transmisogny but what do I know), we're all under attack for just trying to live the lives we want to live. What good does it do to divide us up like this. How are those of us who don't know right away going to find our footing if we don't have safe spaces to expiriement with people who will love and support us and cheer when we figure out who we truly are? How are those of us who are deviant but not trans supposed to thrive without support and acceptance?

Isn't that what this is all supposed to be about?

It's depressing. Thank you for your thoughts, anon. <3 I appreciate that others see this same thing and also despair. It makes me feel like I'm not cracking up to know that this is alarming to you as well.

[elizais]

heyy can you do something like the reader is an exec in the PM and she sees herself as an older sister to the akutagawa siblings / gin + ryu see her as one too? headcannons please i'm just so distraught after season 5

of course anon! i love these siblings so much season 6 has to help themm lets put the reader as a young executive like chuuya/dazai

you joined the PM as a kid too, so you knew how it was. and when you found out about a 14 y/o and his younger sister joining, you felt for them.

when they arrived and mori was assigning them places, you wanted to mentor both of them but the brother already had a mentor so you took the girl.

that is how you began to know the both of them as you trained gin up to her assassin skills, and talking to her so she would have someone to go to.

you and her became close and you insisted on her and ryu staying close. often hearing about him from your fellow executive dazai.

you probably met ryu when you had to go pass on a message to dazai and saw the both of them, dazai stepping out and leaving you with ryu.

"are you the ryunosuke boy? i'm training your sister, do you two talk often?" you asked him, worried for the siblings. he only responded with silence and a cold stare. "don't worry, i understand. gin is coming to my office for a little bit tonight, it's on the third floor across from storage room 4. you are always welcome." you smiled, trying to provide a safe place for him.

afterwards, you were surprised he turned up. you were glad though, you weren't going to let this cruel organisation tear these two apart from their only family.

he walked in with the same expression, void of emotion and your heart shattered to see yet another kid like this. you had managed to get gin out of her shell though, so it was only a matter of time.

"please, sit ryu." gin spoke softly and gestured to the other space on the couch she was sitting on. you had left the room to grab some mugs for tea. "do you like this girl, gin? is she nice to you? does she treat you well?" ryunosuke interrogated, clearly worried for his sister. "she is very nice, ryu. she was the one who told me to dress more masculinely to protect my identity."

and then you made them both tea, both of their first time trying it. you watched their faces light up at the classic drink. ryu had not said a word to you yet, you were polite but did not want to step into his space too fast.

the next day, you heard a knock at your door and you expected gin but to your surprise it was her older brother. he wasn't very confident but he admitted that after he and gin left they both couldn't stop thinking about the tea. that was when he began to open up.

after that, you three came to your office twice a week to try new flavours. you gave them advice, gossiped and soon they trusted you.

when you found out how dazai treated ryunosuke, you didn't react in front of the boy but on your next mission with dazai you fully confronted the man. while you couldn't be certain he would treat akutagawa better, you spent more time with the boy.

you would begin driving the siblings home, then making some warm meals for them and teaching them things they didn't learn in the slums. you introduced them to many of their likes and dislikes. your most memorable one being figs.

"y/n? are you free right now? i have a question about the black lizard." ryunosuke spoke from behind your office door, you welcomed him in and before he could ask his question his attention was stolen away by the figs on your desk. "what are those?" he asked. "they are figs! would you like one?" you responded, happy for him to try one. "yes please." and his eyes seemed to sparkle as he swallowed. "you can have the rest if you like, i'm full anyways." you smiled.

definitely concerned about both of their health, especially ryu's. you tried to find a way to help his coughing but because he's a criminal you can't just take him anywhere. you did make sure that they both got nourishing meals though.

when gin came to you asking about makeup, you shown her everything. as well as showing her hair products, skin care, dresses - everything a normal girl her age would like.

as for ryunosuke, you tried your best with dressing and how to take care of himself.

you were glad that you could provide a safe space for these kids who ended up in the wrong place.

[laconicenigma]

⁂ Bubba Sawyer x Male Reader

Hello!! ⍢ I’m new to Tumblr so I hope this is a sufficient first post… I love Leatherface!!

❀ ; Male reader, FtM, AMAB friendly! (He/Him) Reader is implied to be taller, possibly buffer/broader as well. He leans more towards traditionally masculine. He’s a smooth talker with a bit of Southern charm to fit the setting a little.

❀ ; Bubba Sawyer AMAB (She/He/They) Bubba may be bit out of character, I added in some of my own personal headcanons and such! A mix of their paranoid personality in the 1st movie as well as their affectionate side shown in the 2nd. Hope you like! ◡̈

⁂ Headcanons

It doesn’t take that much to swoon Bubba.

She succumbs so easily to a bit of flirting, as we can see from the 2nd movie. A bit of sweet talk with a sprinkle of pet names and suddenly she’s a big, squealing mess.

The whole Sawyer family is wildly eccentric, so you don’t have too much to worry about in regards to their acceptance. Sure, you’d most likely be a popular joke in the household but it’s nothing worse than what they give each other. Given the time of the film, the most you’d have to worry about would be the public’s opinion about you and your dangerous lover; but let’s just assume that they don’t get the chance to know about y’all.

On a similar note, your sex and gender don’t matter to Bubba all that much. He clearly has unique ways of expressing himself, and he knows it (because of all the teasing his brothers do). He wouldn’t find his feelings for a man to be weird or anything of the sort; though he’d still probably be surprised at the fact. Don’t worry your pretty little head though, Bubba is the furthest thing from judgmental.

The surprise would just be because they’ve always been more into femininity. Both in the way the dress themselves, to the people they’re attracted to— Bubba’s just always loved to indulge in more womanly things. But that doesn’t eliminate you from having a chance, not at all!

The second you sweet talk him with your smooth voice, he’s on the damn floor.

Bubba didn’t have to fortune of receiving affection while she grew up. She’s most likely been isolated from regular society her whole life, and we know damn well the Sawyer’s aren’t known for their loving nature. Take your hands and just gently graze her face a little, or tell her how sweet she is and how much you love her, she’s all yours.

Even just some basic manners will get you a long way with Bubba. They yearn for some sort of human interaction that isn’t clouded with blood and the hum of a chainsaw, don’t blame them! A ‘Thank you’ will keep them giddy for weeks on end.

Trying to shift to a more realistic perspective, though, you’d have to be one sweet son of a bitch to get the Sawyer’s to spare you.

We saw how Bubba eventually folded under the pressures of his families demands when it came to Stretch, even though he liked her quite a bit. If you even want to get close to the point of Bubba stepping in to protect you, you are gonna have to be the smoothest and most charming man he’s ever met (which isn’t very hard, but still). No trying to fight or escape like Stretch, though you’d probably meet Bubba on different circumstances anyways.

⁂ Scenario

‘Oh, god damn!’ Was the only thought that seemed to run through your head at the moment. Wrist pressed against your forehead and sweat dripping down your lips, an exasperated sigh fell from your dry mouth. It was moments like these that made you regret fixin’ up such an old girl to be your car; she could be a bit unreliable.

It’s not like it was the car’s fault, no, you should’ve known you were runnin’ out of fuel just from how long you’d been driving. But, damn, you really needed to fix up that faulty fuel gauge. Always having to be on edge when you traveled, since you didn’t know when your gas was going to run out. Shit, what was even wrong with it?

The sun was burning your skin, and you needed some sort of help. It was only you out here.

After wandering around the unfamiliar area for a long few minutes, a sense of relief completely washed over you when a large farmhouse came into view. The estate was beautiful, and you could only hope somebody in it would be willing to help you out. After walking through the long dirt driveway, you gently stepped onto the porch of the home. The old floorboards creaked under your weight, the peeling paint bringing a slight surprise to your face. The home sure looked occupied, though not very taken care of. You gently knocked against the white frame of the screen door.

“Hello? ‘S anyone home?” You tried to call through. If you looked closely enough, you could see into the interior of the home. For some odd reason, these people didn’t close their front door. That either meant that they were home, or they were just plain careless.

You called out once more, speaking to the walls of the home in hopes you’d elicit a response. “Hey, partner, I’m in a real bad place right now. I-If I could just get some help here, it would be much appreciated,” a chuckle carried through your speech, though you were only met with radio silence from the home. “My car’s broke down and, by god, it’s hot as hell today. If I could just get a glass of water, I’ll be in your debts forever,” you held your tongue after you spoke, desperate for any sign of life within the home. You were practically dyin’ out here!

You were about to make your ways away from the property when you heard some booming thuds from within the building. You leaned into the screen door, squinting as you tried to decipher the darkness of the place. You couldn’t make out much, though you were almost certain you could see a figure cautiously trying to make it down the stairs— almost like they didn’t want you to see them. The person looked— and sounded— huge, though. With the amount of area they were taking in the staircase, alongside their heavy and creaking steps— this person had to be big. Without a doubt. Even if you could only make out a silhouette.

Upon noticing the mystery person, a smile stretched across your handsome features and you began to wave at them through the screen. “Hey, partner! Am I glad to see you!” You exclaimed to them, though the figure stayed unmoving. You realized that you probably came off a little strong, so you attempted to backtrack in the case that they had just noticed you. You spoke again, this time much softer and sweeter, “My car broke down not to far from here. Real sorry about showin’ up on your property like this but I could really use some help. Anythin’ would be much appreciated,” You managed to coo through the screen, an inviting smile on your lips.

The figure seemed to be trying to process the situation, not moving towards or away from you, though you could see their head dart around frantically. Not a good sign. You attempted to calm them from afar, they were your only hope at salvation at the moment. “Hey, hey, hey, now… Don’t worry, I ain’t here for trouble, darlin’. I promise,” as the words left your throat, so soothing and calm, the figure laid their gaze directly onto you. You could feel it. “You don’t have’ta help me, sweetheart. I can leave you be right now— but I ain’t a threat.” To speak to soft and so loving was something of second nature to you, but it was currently, unknowingly, saving your ass right now. “I’d just really appreciate a hand, if you’d be willing to give,” your desperation was painfully obvious. That seemed to be the breaking point for the person— in a good sense.

They slowly made their way down the stairs, the wood moaning under their weight as they stepped. Once they came closer, you were able to slowly make out their features. Their clothes looked dirty and old, though mostly concealed by a bright yellow apron— and they were fucking huge. Tall and big, extremely fucking huge. Though you two battled heights pretty evenly, you’d still have to say you were pleasantly surprised about their stature. You’d never really met someone who stood head to head with you like this. However, it took everything within yourself not to cringe at the mask they sported. It looked so— so grotesquely real. Like nothing you’d ever seen, not even at a Halloween store.

Even though it was grossly off-putting, you made the decision to not point it out. Didn’t want to scare off your only help at the moment. One of their large hands timidly laid against the frame of the screen door and pushed it open. They softly squealed in a pig-like manner.

Once the door pushed open, you got a good look at this person in all their glory. They looked just as grimy and dirty as they were when they were shielded by the screen, though now you could make out more finite details— like their crooked teeth and hairy arms. They refused to make eye contact, their body tense and frightened. They definitely raised a few red flags in your mind, and you couldn’t say they were truly all that attractive— but you still found them cute, for some odd reason. You smiled at their compliance, despite it all. “Hey, darlin’, thank you for openin’ up for me,” the words smoothly fell from your lips, causing their gaze to bore into you. They made some sort of mumbling sound, unintelligible to you. They seemed so utterly confused.

You gave them a signature smile, sensing their discomfort, and doing your best to alleviate it. You could tell at this point that they probably weren’t used to interacting with people, given the way they had been so reclusive. In attempts to get them to open up, you spoke softer, kinder, even more charming than usual. “There any way you can help me, partner?” You were burning at this point, skin glistening with sweat and your clothes glued to the moisture on your body. They seemed to try and subtly eye you, though they were extremely obvious— even moreso as they embarrassedly looked away from you. You chuckled.

They shifted on their feet, acting shy despite how intimidating they were as a person. After a moment of thought, they nodded a bit. When they looked at you again, you could make out a hint of a shy smile on their face. They stepped aside, willingly giving you a pathway into their mysterious home. You stared into their eyes, giving them a handsome, toothy, smile. “Thanks, darlin’,” You hummed to the large and timid person. They squealed a bit, joy taking over their face as you stepped foot into their odd home.

[anomalousmancunt]

this is going on anon thru someone else bc every time i post about this i get goofball ass comments im honestly just not feeling like dealing with

but the tme/tma dichotomy doesn’t really make sense to me. like, every trans person can be a victim of transmisogyny regardless of gender. that’s just cis/trans 2

also like. idk why people complain abt transandrophobia or whatevs we’ve decided we’re calling it. if transmisogyny is hatred of transfemininity how would transandrophobia not be hatred of transmasculinity?

maybe i have it a lil backward but like. im a butch trans woman and im pretty comfortable with that. not on hormones (would like to be) and i don’t pass or really want to and i don’t care abt dressing feminine. when transmeds do the bit where they say im not really trans because of that, they’re challenging my ability to remain masculine while being transfem. is that not transandrophobia???

im confused and im scared to ask bc everyone i ever see talking about it is kind of an asshole abt it

yeah, this idea that oppression is somehow only aimed at the True, Intended Victims is... very nonsensical.

ive had transmisogyny aimed at me since before publicly ID'ing as trans because i dared to be visibly genderweird and that made me Close Enough to a freak-in-the-transfemme-way for some people. ive seen transfemme people have transandrophobia aimed at them because they dared to be masc in a way that clashes with "fem" characteristics, and that made them Close Enough to freaks-in-the-transmasc-way for some people. it's so unnecessary and counterproductive to pretend these experiences somehow are not real, or it's actually Another kind of oppression (a more "general" one, perhaps), and not the one it clearly is.

im sorry people are assholes, because i fully agree with you here.

[thelostgirl21]

I wish there was a way to clearly say:

I'm personally comfortable being called a "woman", only because I have the sexual dimorphism typically associated with a female of the human species, and that's how other people see me as when they look at my physical appearance; nothing more.

While making 100% sure not to accidentally bring any harm to the trans community, or making it sound like one's gender identity should always match their physical appearance, when that's far from being the case.

Because, until very recently, I'd always been calling myself "a girl", or "a woman" exclusively based on how I physically look.

To me, defining myself as "a woman", has always been the equivalent of describing an external characteristic of my body that others are able to see.

- I'm a woman.

- I'm 5'7''.

- I have brown eyes.

- etc.

It's always been exactly the same to me. It's what you can physically see, not who I am.

Somehow, it's like I completely forgot to develop a sense of personal identity tied to "being a woman" while I was growing up.

I could wake up tomorrow with a body that has the sexual dimorphism of a male of my species instead, have everyone call me a man and suddenly have to live my life as one, and I'd have only ONE problem with it.

Just the one.

My partner is a heterosexual man, so that would be a challenge.

But otherwise, I think I'd just be really curious to explore the physiological differences between my prior body and my new body, and then move on with my life without changing a single thing to the things I like, my behavior in general, personal interests, probably the way I like to dress, too, etc.

I'd just be "looking more masculine" while doing it.

It would be like having blonde short hair instead of my current brown long hair.

The rest of the world would treat me differently as a man, sure! But that wouldn't reflect how I identify or feel inside about who I am.

Just how others now see me as and choose to socially treat me.

My gender, to me, is something that's always existed outside of myself.

I have no personal use for it, nor is it a part of my personality.

I guess I've often been gender-non-conforming, too, not because I was attempting to rebel against my own gender, felt a need to distance myself from the binary, or anything... But just because I've never seen the point of it.

I've had boyfriends telling me that it was like I wanted to be the "man in the relationship", and being upset that I wasn't letting them play their role at times (that hasn't really been an issue with women, oddly enough); and I broke up with them without looking back, because what the fuck was that even supposed to mean?

I wasn't trying to behave like a man or a woman, I was just being myself, and adopting the social roles and behaviors I'm comfortable with. If you can't love me as I am, then what am I supposed to do?

Younger, I've had little boys back at school telling me that "it was weird for a girl to like certain things or express herself a certain way", and my response has always pretty much been to shrug, go "guess I'm a weird girl then", and then continue doing things my way.

(Yes, I'm aware that I've been very privileged to live in a world where I've merely been occasionally bullied or suffered verbal micro-agressions for ignoring the social standards set for "little girls"... Then again, I've probably embraced some of them!

I loved playing with my "He-Man and the Masters of the Universe set", or walking around with a lightsaber pretending to be Luke Skywalker... But I was cool with "My Little Poney" (the originals) and "Rainbow Bright", too!

Like I said, I wasn't trying to be "non-conforming", I just liked whatever I liked!

I was also lucky enough that my parents fully allowed me to go for what I enjoyed in terms of toys, games, activities, playmates, etc., regardless of gender.

And my physical appearance as a child occasionally had people mistaking me for a boy. So, perhaps, the other adults that saw me behave as one in public assumed I was one, and thus put less pressure on me to behave in a way that would have been deemed more "feminine" than "masculine".

By the point I really started looking more "feminine" (like I do now), I guess I'd moved past caring about it, and/or had reached a point where it made no sense to me that it would suddenly have been upsetting that I occasionally behaved "as a boy" or enjoyed "boy things" now when, until then, it had always been perfectly fine and well accepted that I did!

I guess there's something to be said about the influence of early socialisation, and how adults in the social environment of a child respond to a young child's gender, in the level of importance they might instinctively give to it later on.)

Like, I'm pretty sure that, if I were to ask you to determine my gender based on my looks alone (while fully giving you permission to do it), especially when I'm performing on stage wearing makeup, you'd go "you're a woman!" with a fair level of confidence!

But that's just it! To me that's just the way I look. A stylistic choice based on the way my body chose to develop, if you will.

What drives me nuts, though, is that I have zero problem empathizing with the trans community and their need to express their own gender identity, because I know what it feels like to need to be seen and respected as one's authentic self!

You tell me you identify as a woman, a man, agender, genderfae, etc., and/or feel a need to express it? Be yourself, and rock that gender! It is who you are, and it is your right to own it!

The fact that I feel like I don't have any particular use or need for gender doesn't mean that it can't be important for others, and that they don't have a use or need for it themselves.

Just because I don't intimately understand it, doesn't mean it doesn't exist or doesn't matter. It doesn't mean that I can't support, and actively advocate for proper gender recognition and respect in schools and other public places.

I "get it" without "getting it", if you will.

The problem, however, is that I am extremely uncomfortable with the idea that, if I identify as a "woman", people will assume that it means more to me than "I physically look female".

That it will be assumed that I emotionally and psychologically connect with my gender, and feel a need to express it, or a sense of attachment and belonging to the woman gender.

After having called the way my physical body "looks" to others on the outside "being a woman" for decades, it's hard for me to suddenly go "being a woman is not the same as passing for a woman, it's about the gender you identify with inside..." and stop calling myself a woman, because I feel like I've no gender identity inside of myself.

But "agender" doesn't quite feel right to me, either, because I'd never had any problem with the idea of being a woman, until I learned that I was supposed to give a damn about being a woman, and personally connect with my gender, that is.

And "gender non-conforming" doesn't sound quite right, either, because I'm not trying to avoid conforming to the woman gender, or expressing a different gender than the one that was assigned to me at birth.

They basically gave me a gender based on my genitalia when I was born, and I went "Yeah, sure! I guess I can look the part... Why not?"; while ignoring the whole social instructions booklet and guidelines that went with it.

So lately, every time someone has asked me what my gender is, or what gender I identify with, I've had a tendency to freeze, panic, and mentally go:

Like the idea of my having a gender makes no internal sense to me. It's not something I can relate to, "vibe with", or identify with.

Is there a way to respectfully say "I'm calling myself a woman for convenience's sake, because that's the gender traditionally associated with the way I look, and I'm okay with having grown into a feminine appearance by default? But please, don't assume it means anything to me beyond that, or expect me to behave, dress, or do anything according to the woman gender."

I've been using "gender apathetic" in an attempt to convey it, but is that really what it means, and how most people understand it?

Basically, I feel like my answers to these questions would be:

- What physical look do you most resemble? Woman / feminine / female.

- What gender do you identify with? None.

- Do you feel comfortable being called a woman, and her / she pronouns, based on the way you look? Yes.

How do you freaking call or define that?

Non-internalized cisgenderism?