#get butch grow a beard change his hair

[dreamofcamelot]

did……. did it ever cross Arthur’s mind that they’d never get to see each other grow old?

[cowboyjen68]

my mom made me shave tonight

I miss my leg and pit hair already, it made me feel much more comfortable as a butch who has little else that makes them feel butch enough to their name

sorry to vent, I can’t wait till it starts growing back

As someone who is a mom AND who had a mom, moms do weird stuff in the "name" of protecting their kids and the difference between boys and girls is stark.

Even me, a lesbian mom who definitely should know better, has done and said more weird stuff to keep my daughters safer than I have to my sons.

I said things to my son "shave your beard, you look scraggly" but didn't push the issue when ignored. But I more than once made my daughter change into a longer skirt or wear leggings or take a sweater because I was worried she would be teased for showing too much. Never once did I tell my some to wear a looser t shirt or put on a sweater because he was wearing something glaringly too tight for his body type.

Your mom is, most likely, trying to protect you from teasing but ALSO protecting herself from embarrassment because women with body hair are considered "dirty and ugly" by most Western standards.

My mom would have died a little inside if I had grown out my leg and arm pit hair as a teen. Once i was older she would say things like "it is your body.. whatever... I just think.." and say things that implied it was smelly or dirty or just unattractive. At that point I was on my own and paid my own bills so I did what I wanted.

Once in a while I have shaved off my leg hair and it was because the woman I dated wanted it smooth if I was okay with it. AND I am. Cool. Happy to shave if it makes our intimate experience more enjoyable. And it never felt forced. BUT i always did get a little regret when I didn't have my leg hair to signal "look.. hairy butch d&ke" LIKE there was any doubt no matter how unhairy I was. LOL

Now that I am older my arm pit hair is way less, it just thins with menopause I guess and I miss it. I am sometimes said it is so light and both in thickness and color. But in reality I am butch and no amount of body hair changes that or makes it more obvious to anyone who already perceives me as such.

It sucks she did that. It is your body. Hold tight, get through, work to be independent once you are old enough and then you can grow it as much or as little as you like. And you have quite a few years before menopause thins it so ENJOY!

[andersunmenschlich]

I posted 166 times in 2022

That's 119 more posts than 2021!

30 posts created (18%)

136 posts reblogged (82%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@headspace-hotel

@dduane

@naiokiara

@simonalkenmayer

@dumpsterprophet

I tagged 137 of my posts in 2022

Only 17% of my posts had no tags

#ex christian - 29 posts

#bodily autonomy - 13 posts

#book 5 - 8 posts

#the chessmen of mars - 8 posts

#taran of helium - 8 posts

#public domain - 8 posts

#genderswap - 8 posts

#self-indulgence - 8 posts

#barsoom - 8 posts

#abortion - 6 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#i don't get to demand one of your kidneys because it's the only one i have access to and i'll die without it so you have to give it to me

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Sex, Gender, and Your Body

We have kids being told that they can't be what they are. It's not that there are myriad, innumerable ways to be a person in society—no, no, no. If you don't conform to very narrow stereotypes ("cultural expectations") about what gender ideologues say is "man-ness" or "woman-ness," then you're not what you say you are at all. You're what they say you are, and your body must be made to fit.

Why doesn't it bother you that people want to tell a young man that he can't be a man because he's too femme or too physically female? A young woman that she can't be a woman because she's too butch or too physically male? And then force them to go through puberties that develop their bodies in ways they're not comfortable with?

A man who isn't allowed to stop his body from growing breasts. A woman who isn't allowed to keep her voice unbroken. A human being who isn't allowed to have the body they could so easily have.

Why doesn't it bother you?

The solution isn't to get rid of gender designations. It's to decouple physical form from them.

A man can have any combination of physical characteristics and still be a man. Same goes for a woman, an enby, a demiboy, a demigirl....

Look at it this way.

If a person—any person, cis or trans—wants to wear pants, they should be able to do that without people calling them something they don't want to be called. If a person wants to wear skirts, they should be able to do that without anyone deciding to assign them pronouns without asking. If a man wants to wear his hair long, it shouldn't lead to him being called "her" or "xem." If an enby likes their hair short, they should be able to have it short without people deciding they're a "he."

In the same way, if a woman (cis or trans) wants a beard, she should be allowed to grow one. It doesn't make her less of a woman. If a man wants breasts, he should be allowed to grow them—it doesn't make him less of a man!

A demigirl or demiboy with female characteristics is not "really a woman," nor is either of them "really a man" if they have male ones.

Sex is not gender—gender is not sex.

And changing your body so you're more comfortable in it? That's yet another thing, and it should be entirely up to you, the sole and ultimate owner of your own body. Like the idea of what your default puberty is most likely to do to your body? Go through it! Want a different puberty? Go get it! Don't want a puberty, or aren't sure which one you want yet? Hooray for puberty blockers! Want to change something that's already happened, get something new, lose something you don't want? Yay hormones and three cheers for surgery!

Words are how we communicate. They provide clarity. If you can't tell the difference between biological sex, psychological and social gender, and physical form, how are you going to communicate with the people who can?

3 notes - Posted June 20, 2022

#4

What Is A Woman?

"Woman" is a social category, a role about half of humanity plays (by choice, by force, by default...).

It's a cloud of socially defined characteristics: behaviors, skills, clothing styles, hairstyles, shoe styles, approaches to emotion, expressions of emotion, expressions of the face, tones of voice, and so on. Every last one of these characteristics is not necessarily applicable to every individual woman: your average woman will embody perhaps half the cloud, and it's perfectly possible for two such average women to share no characteristics whatsoever.

If we dig down into the role, we find that in reality it doesn't exist as a solid thing, with solid boundaries. Around the edges, characteristics blur from "woman" into "man" (and between these two roles is a space full of characteristics we simply call "human").

But it's practical to talk about gender as though it is a solid thing, with solid boundaries.

Not to ask yourself "well, but how many characteristics does it take to make someone an actual woman?" or "which of these characteristics is objectively most important to woman-ness?" but to simply say instead, "She has all the characteristics I care about, so she's woman enough for me."

Some people have trouble recognizing that "being physically female" is only one of the many characteristics that exist within the social category "woman."

A lot of trouble.

"Being physically female is the most important characteristic of womanhood for me," these people howl, "and therefore it's the only characteristic that matters at all to anyone, and saying otherwise is a denial of objective physical reality!"

Sister post here.

3 notes - Posted June 4, 2022

#3

The core of the cult I grew up in was blood sacrifice. And I want to be clear here: I didn't know it was a cult! No cult advertises itself as a cult, and my parents were in it long before I was born—I grew up thinking this was just the way the world was. So the basic concept will probably sound pretty familiar: There's a supernaturally powerful being who created everything that exists. This deity created according to its nature—you know how some people can't write happy stories and some can't write sad ones? Yeah, like that. So it created everything, but didn't really have a choice in a lot of the most basic set up, and THIS is why blood sacrifice is necessary. You see, the deity is everything "good," and nothing "evil" can exist in its presence. Right? So if a human does something evil, well, life is good and they're now excluded from that, so they have to die. But! Blood is life. If the human can offer the right lifeblood to the deity, they don't have to die. Obviously it's got to be blood from someone who doesn't have any sins of their own to pay for, otherwise it wouldn't count: that blood would already be owed, so you couldn't use it to pay off your own debt, see? So the go-to here is animals, which works out pretty well because they can't sin—that is, they can't do anything the deity doesn't want them to do, because they're just animals, it's not like they have minds or free will or anything. The holy book I grew up studying (Dad was the local cult leader, so I spent most of my school years learning cult stuff), it has whole lists of what animals are best to sacrifice for what type of sin and/or sinner, which is exactly as boring as it sounds. Anyway, the deity of this particular cult is really, really picky. Basically all you have to do to sin (and thus deserve death and need to pay in blood) is be human. In fact there's a bit in the holy text that explains it's impossible to avoid sinning, everyone is a sinner and deserves to die. Which, given how picky the deity is—yeah, makes sense. So lots of blood sacrifice! Except you can't really do that in the modern world, right? PETA would be all over you. Actually it hasn't been acceptable in ages. So the cult worked it out where their deity used a young woman to create a human body for itself. Then it wore that human body like a really intimate glove for a few years, didn't do anything it didn't like (obviously), so no sin, then sacrificed the body's sinless lifeblood to itself. Which is the perfect blood, right? It's god blood! That can pay for so much more sin than animal blood. What this means in practice is that cult members swear themselves over to the deity as slaves, because it paid for their lives in blood, right? They owe it their very lives. It owns them, see? I had a weird childhood. Imagine knowing for a fact that you're always being watched. Always. You have no privacy, that's not a thing. You're never alone. And the one who's watching you, if it sees you do even one tiny thing it doesn't like, bam! Your life is forfeit. Which is going to happen. There is no escape. You can never be good enough to deserve anything but death. And the cult is really masochistic about this: it's not just physical death! That was good enough for their ancestors, but not for them, no. I grew up knowing that all I could ever earn was, get this, eternal suffering. But it's fine, because if you do this public ritual where you pretend to be bathing in god blood and then feel really, genuinely, horribly bad every time you do anything your god doesn't like, its blood will pay for your sins and you won't have to die! This is Good News™. (Sarcasm aside, that's legitimately what the cult calls this piece of information: "The Good News"). Which I suppose it is, if you already believe the rest of it. "You mean I don't have to pay for my sins with my life's blood? Yay!" Imagine teaching a kid that. Geez.

There was a lot of other messed up stuff in my specific corner of the cult (like outbreeding the heathen and beating your children and demonic conspiracies), but that's the basics: the blood sacrifice thing. That holds true across every iteration of the cult—and there are a lot of... varietals, I guess you could call them. Sects? Whatever: enclaves in different places with slight or not-so-slight differences in the beliefs they have around this basic core. It eats your life, this stuff. Wrecks your self-esteem! I was lucky enough to get all the way out about four years ago. It took me a while—indoctrination from childhood is tough to escape, and I guess I'll probably be dealing with a lot of the wounds for a while. But I've got Alex, and that helps more than I can say.

4 notes - Posted March 22, 2022

#2

Gaslighting in defense of the Bible

"Oh, it doesn't really say we're getting the genealogy of Jesus and then give us the ancestry of the parent who contributed none of Jesus's genes!"

("...the genealogy of Jesus Christ ... and Jacob the father of Joseph the husband of Mary, of whom Jesus was born, who is called Christ" Matthew 1)

. "Oh, it doesn't really say God created everything in six literal days!"

("And there was evening and there was morning, the first day. ... And there was evening and there was morning, the second day. ... And there was evening and there was morning, the third day. ... And there was evening and there was morning, the fourth day. ... And there was evening and there was morning, the fifth day. ... And there was evening and there was morning, the sixth day." Genesis 1 "On the seventh day God finished his work" Genesis 2)

. "Oh, it doesn't really say homosexuality is wrong!"

("You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; it is an abomination." Leviticus 18:22 "If a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination; they shall surely be put to death; their blood is upon them." Leviticus 20:13 "...the wrath of God is revealed against [ungodly, unrighteous, foolish people] ... their women exchanged natural relations for those that are contrary to nature; and the men likewise gave up natural relations with women and were consumed with passion for one another" Romans 1 "...men who practice homosexuality ... [will not] inherit the kingdom of God." 1 Corinthians 6:9 [μαλακοὶ, from μαλακία; ἀρσενοκοῖται] "...the law is... for the lawless and disobedient, for the ungodly and sinners, for the unholy and profane, for... men who practice homosexuality" 1 Timothy 1 [ἀρσενοκοίταις])

. "Oh, the Bible doesn't really say anything I don't like! You're just imagining it, misunderstanding, seeing things that aren't there! You can't trust your own judgment. Your perception of reality is unreliable. You're not really reading what you think you are."

. I have had quite enough of this.

I am sick and tired of being told that shit is actually chocolate.

I am fed to the teeth with this idea that I should trust in the Lord with all my heart—just plain trust that what I'm seeing with my own eyes isn't actually there—and lean not on my own understanding.

How often have I been told that I'm not wise enough to properly understand the obvious?

That the Bible is actually good, no matter what it may look like?

That really there's nothing bad in it?

. Enough. Stop this.

4 notes - Posted January 3, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

A Note:

I attack ideas and people separately.

This may not be obvious, since on my personal Tumblr page I mostly criticize my abusive parents, and thus yell at both them and their beliefs simultaneously. There is, however, a difference between attacking a person and attacking an idea.

When I express anger at my parents for beating and starving me, this is an attack on them as people: they knew they were hurting me and did it anyway.

When I express incandescent fury at the belief that "he who spares the rod hates his son," that is an attack on an idea: I despise the teaching that led my parents to believe hurting me would be good for my immortal soul (which doesn't even exist).

I often do these two things at the same time.

They are not the same thing.

7 notes - Posted January 14, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[nonegenderleftpain]

BXY JOURNAL UPDATE 6/5/2023

Well, it's pride month, and instead of making a separate post about this, I figured I would reblog the original post in my largely-forgotten Bxy Journal. I wanted to give an update, partially to add to the very minimal amount of documented information on transmasc HRT, and partially to debunk some of the things I have been told about T since I started.

Hi! My name is Drew, and I am an agender transmasc butch. I am 25 years old, and started T in October of 2020. At the time, I was on low-dose Androderm patches, as I was unsure what pace of changes I would be comfortable with. I now take testosterone gel several times a week. My life has changed drastically in the past few years, and I wanted to share those changes with you. There is a three-month check-in here, if you'd like to see the differences concretely.

When I started T, I had a lot of people tell me all manner of scary things to keep me from taking it. Even knowing that this was fearmongering, it was terrifying to have it pointed at me all at once, so I'd like to discuss the reality behind some of these things, under the cut.

"If you take T, all your hair will fall out!"

This is technically possible. Male pattern baldness is a genetic condition, and it is affected by your hormones. There is absolutely a chance you will lose some hair if you take testosterone. That said, male pattern baldness does not run in my family, and while I have indeed noticed a change in my hair texture, I have not had any noticeable hair loss or thinning. I had to start shampooing again (I've used cleansing conditioner only for years) to deal with the increase in oil, but I am lucky to have a hair texture that handles it well. My curl pattern has changed, but all in all, my hair is just as strong and healthy as it was before T.

"You'll have a patchy, stupid beard!"

It took a bit for my beard to grow in. It didn't start growing properly until a little over a year on T, and took another year to be full. I now have a better beard than my partner, who is a cis guy. It grows fast, and it grows full. This is also heavily dependent on your genetics, but there is absolutely no truth to "nothing you do will let you grow a proper beard and you'll always look like a child."

"You'll become aggressive and won't be able to cry!"

In the entire time I have been on T, I have not had a single instance of misplaced anger or aggression. I no longer cry at the drop of a hat, but that has been the best thing HRT has done for me. I am bipolar, and the stabilizing of my moods and lessening of my cry reflex has made me so much more functional and made my life livable, without constant assistance. I'm going back to school this fall, because I finally have the emotional stability to do so. I absolutely would not be able to if not for this. Even with the lessened cry reflex, I still have not had a problem with crying when I feel like I need to cry.

"You'll get fat and ugly!"

I have gained weight since starting T. Part of this is due to the HRT, part of it is due to other medications, and part of it is due to chronic health conditions. My body fat has redistributed in more masculine ways, and because of this it has become difficult to find pants that fit me properly. Still, nothing about my body is ugly. I am not a flowery little pixie anymore, but people equating "fat" with "ugly" is a completely separate issue to gaining weight on HRT.

Testosterone treatment has been one of the biggest blessings in my life. I am happier now than I have ever been in my life, and I am healthier and more secure, as well. I am so, so glad that I did not listen to the constant rhetoric of t being poison, and men being inherently aggressive and dangerous, because I do not know where I would be without my transition. I still don't look like a cis man unless I try, but that's by choice - I like being visibly trans, and wearing a dress and a beard at the same time is a hot look. If I put on a ball cap, a binder, and my cargo shorts, I don't get misgendered by strangers. My voice has dropped, but I've chosen not to do voice training to sound more masculine, because it's not something that matters much to me. I still sing, and have kept a lot of my soprano range through practice while gaining an entire additional octave, making me a pretty decent tenor. My life is objectively better from the effects of t.

All that said, I'll leave you with this. Change is scary. Change in your body, especially. But you're not doing it alone. There are other trans people around you, cheering you on and supporting you. There are adults like me, who started transition in their early adulthood. There are people in their 70s, who went their whole lives thinking it was too late to transition. There are teenagers fighting for access to HRT and affirming care. And we're family. We are not going to leave you behind. Reach out, take my hand, and know you can go so far and do things you've never imagined, as long as you remember that you have our support. To the young trans guy reading this, I know what it feels like to not think you have a future. Let me be proof that you do.

Happy pride, folks.

Well, I finally started T! I've decided to keep a journal of my experiences as an agender, disabled individual here on my blog, as close to daily as possible. It will be under the tag [#bxy journal] if you'd like to mute the stream of selfies and information.

Day 1

I'm doing HRT through patches at a very low dose, for gradual changes and more control over vocal changes. I am a vocalist and will be working with an instructor biweekly to maintain my upper register. I've been in constant contact with my slew of doctors to ensure this won't worsen my chronic illness issues.

So far today, I feel tingly and jittery. I'm unsure if this is the T, a placebo effect, or riding the high of my first good day in weeks. I'm picking up a set of free weights because it's getting too cold to go to the gym without causing pain flares. I'm hoping increased muscle mass from T will make walking easier for me in the future!

[hyphyphurray]

Harry tapped the Instagram filter and made a duck face.

“WHAT GAY COMBO ARE YOU?” the app blared, before flipping through two sets of stereotypical descriptors.

The 22 year old twink had laughed at some of the improbable combos that had been ascribed to his friends on his feed and had to give it a try. What would Harry get? Himbo e-boy? Soft jock? Dom twink?

Flick, flick, flick.

“HIPSTER-DILF,” the app read.

The twink practically howled in response.

“OMG!” he yelled, his phone's camera still recording.

It was then that Harry saw how he looked on the phone's screen. The digital version of himself was changing. Tattoos were crawling over his arms and hand as dark swaths of hair erupted in furry fields on his avatar's chest.

“Oooo Zaddy!” Harry chuckled at this, in awe of the app's photo-manipulating software. The miniature version of himself packed on muscle and years, growing taller and beefier. His pecs grew meaty as his blonde hair turned black, and then salt and pepper. And that shaggy beard! OMG, hi-LAR-ious!

Could you even imagine? Harry thought. All that hair- ick!

A pair of silver rings formed on Harry's screen, and an earring. A golden knit cap wrapped itself around his digital head.

Honestly, this ridiculous pairing was.... actually super hot. Harry gave a couple of his trademark poses and watched his screen-bound, rapidly butch-er self do the same.

The Hipster-DILF looked like he was trying so hard, and yet knew he was sexy enough that he didn't have to try at all. It was all so... performative, and ironic, and silly, and... really hot. Seeing that beefcake act like he was some too-hip-for-you twenty-something who never grew up, who would pick you up at the gym, but then rail you to the sounds of his vinyl connection in his loft apartment... He could almost remember the sounds of that Thelonius Monk record... or the taste of his pre-workout powder...

Harry shook his head and looked down at his hairless, 22-year old frame, a tight pink and white tank top clinging to his go-go boy body. Who the fuck was Thelonius Monk? And as if he'd act like some fucking gym rat!

He looked back at the screen, where a little loop of the Hipster-DILF posing and duck-face-ing played over and over. It was so... not him. This was funny, right?

“OMG CLOCKED!” he tapped out and then paused. His thumb hovered over the “POST” button.

He clicked.

The sound of drums.

That solo.

Fuck, Harry thought, Goddamn Kenny Clarke. They don't make 'em like that anymore.

He pawed idly at his hairy pec.

Chest day today, he thought.

He looked up from his phone and grinned into the mirror.

His bearded face grinned back, below a dark mustard knit hat. He stretched, eyeing his massive body. Salt-and-pepper hairs all over caught his eye. His back was a little tight, but for pushing 40, he was looking fucking hot.

Harry's eyes flicked back to his phone. Oh right. Some app.

“WHAT GAY COMBO ARE YOU?”

A hilariously young and hairless version of himself danced in a loop, with the words “BITCHY TWINK” floating above. He smirked in spite of himself at the broad, low-hanging fruit that passed for humor these days. Everyone boiled down to a word or two, reduced to a basic 2D stereotype. Still, picturing himself as some vapid, tiny plastic-y gayboi was funny, in an ironic sort of way.

Could you even imagine? Harry thought, walking into the kitchen of his loft to grab a protein bar.

“LOL,” he said in a fake, high-pitched voice, as the jazz hummed along.

[dougtfs]

I was walking home with Liam when we found the baseball cap on the ground. It had a construction log on the front, and a label inside that said “bear dad.”

“Cute,” Liam set. Like me, he was thin, hairless, a thin twink. He liked the irony of wearing butch clothes sometimes, because he was so femme.

The moment he slipped it on his head, though, something changed. He looked surprised as stubbled prickled across his face. “What’s happening?” he gasped, stretching his arms as they bulked with muscle.

“You’re changing!” I exclaimed. His beard was getting thicker, growing dense and dark on his cheeks.

“I feel ... weird ...” he grunted, scratching at his chest. “So tight!” He grabbed at his thin white tshirt, pulling at it -- and it ripped up the side, revealing a broadening chest covered in hair.

“Fuck ... what’s ... happening to me,” he groaned, staring down at his body as his belly got thick, pounds piling on. The waistband of his skinny jeans popped, denim ripping as his ass widened, his legs growing broad and thick like tree trunks.

“Liam ... I think you’re turning into a bear!” I said, staring at my friend. Moments before he was a twink like me. Now I was watching as muscle and fat swelled on his frame, fur growing everywhere.

“Oh, fuck, dude,” he rumbled, his voice deep and manly. He blinked at me as the growth subsided, his clothing in tatters. He was wearing only the tight remains of his pink briefs now.

“Are you okay?” I said, staring up at my friend.

He grinned. “Feeling great, kiddo,” he said, clapping me hard on the back. “Never better.”

“You look ... amazing,” I said.

He laughed, and took of the hat, handing it over to me. “Imagine how good you’re gonna look, pal,” he said.

Get more stories of transformation, power, and control: https://amzn.to/2zuzn1M

[captain-nicnac]

Idk I want Stede to become incredibly competent while remaining exactly as effeminate.

His clothes are more practical but still have bright colors and frills. His hair is always perfectly placed.

He's become an excellent swordsman but he always does silly little flourishes when he can. He looks more like a dancer than a fighter, but he's still proficient and successful.

He leans into intimidation via politeness, he just gets more effective at it. Everyone learns that the softer he speaks, the more dangerous he is.

Maybe it's just because I'm an effeminate guy-adjacent person who can't grow a beard, but I don't really want Stede to become more rugged and butch. He can become competent, skilled, and knowledgeable without becoming more masculine, you know? It's not his effeminate aesthetic and nature that's holding him back, it's pride, ignorance, and inexperience. He doesn't have to grow a beard to change that.

[intersexfairy]

hi!! I was wondering if you might be willing to elaborate on "dysphoric cis people"? I've never heard of it, but I was under the impression that dysphoria is a sign of transness (although no dysphoria doesnt mean you arent trans). Or otherwise, would you be able to link a post about it? thanks so much! /gen

Dysphoria can be a sign of transness, but it isn’t necessarily one. When it comes to cis people who are dysphoric, they can feel any aspect of dysphoria that a trans person does, aside from the whole thing about being perceived as the gender you were assigned at birth. They can be dysphoric about their bodies, their names, their pronouns, their clothes, their makeup or lack thereof, etc. That’s basically the TL;DR for this, but I’ll give some examples below:

A cis butch lesbian may feel dysphoria about their chest, or lack of facial hair - they may feel dysphoric when referred to as a woman by cishets (or at all!), or by feminine pronouns in general. They may change their name to a gender neutral or masculine one, and great extremely upset or uncomfortable when referred to by their birthname. Their connection to masculinity and disconnect from cishet-womanhood doesn’t make them trans. Although someone who relates to this may discover that they are trans, not all of them are trans. As a sidenote, some butch lesbians may identify as transmasculine and have very similar experiences to the cis butch lesbian in this example, and that’s equally valid!

An intersex cis man may feel dysphoria about his chest, lack of facial hair, or lack of certain genitals. He may get misgendered as a woman frequently, and feel very self conscious about his appearance in regards to his masculinity/femininity/androgyny. This may drive him to go on HRT to feel assured in his gender identity and expression. Alternatively, a cis intersex woman may feel ugly and undesirable with her beard, feel like she isn’t enough of a woman because of her body shape or the body parts she has/doesn’t have.

A gender nonconforming cis person may look in the mirror and not see themselves - they feel unempowered by their conforming appearance. Self-conscious when they go outside, reserved, never wearing clothes they like and thus never feeling like they’re being their true self. They may long to cut/grow out their hair, hate wearing dresses/pants and feel stifled when forced to wear them.

For reference, these examples are all based on the stories from people I either know personally or generally have interacted with and talked to.

[max--phillips]

Hi! I have a question about your transing gender. Since you're going on T. Do u have to take the shots (i believe it's a shot) all your life? I've always heard of T as like for transgender people. Can it be used for cis people? R u excited to get a beard? I can't wait to see what changes the T is going to do on u. How is it called when it's the hormone for women. Like mtf. Will getting hormones hurt? I feel like i can Google this but getting the answers from someone who is transitioning feels better.

It can be a shot! Or a gel, or a patch, or u can get implants but those are pricy as heck. But ultimately, anyone can go on hrt if they want, you just have to consider the effects because while some of them are reversible, not all of them are (for instance, the voice deepening is permanent). There are plenty of butch lesbians out there who consider themselves cis who are on T! I’m excited at the prospect of having facial hair tbh though that can take a long time (and if I truly did inherit my dad’s hair genes it’s gonna be patchy as fuck) so it isn’t like… the absolute most important thing. Tbh I’m most excited for the voice thing so I can make the same dumb voice cracking jokes my brother and male peers made when they went through puberty tkghrjgjdbdksjs

So mtf is short for male to female, and ftm is short for female to male. Last I heard though folks are kind of phasing that out because it’s a little reductive although if that’s how you choose to identify, more power to you!! I personally am simply here, I’d say I identify as more transmasc, but still a lesbian, so gender is just. A thing that I have. Idk how to explain it really well.

And I suppose if I choose to go the injection route the injections themselves might hurt a little, but the changes themselves probably won’t! Granted there’s the bottom growth aspect which folks don’t talk a lot about. Basically the clitoris… grows. And there are some people who experience pain associated with that insofar as unexpected/prolonged stimulation to it can be unpleasant. (But tbh I’m excited for the bottom growth too so !!!

N hey, I’m an open book, I’m excited to talk about this stuff tbh !! Ask away :0

[gold-from-straw]

Week of prompts - day 6

SUNDAY

Sophie looked at herself in the mirror and took a deep, shaking breath. She could do this. She was going to walk into the office wearing the beautiful chocolate brown skirt and blazer with the ruffled blue silk blouse for the first time.

She was coming out.

Her hands shook as she touched up the lipstick, nothing too strong, don’t want to scare off the cis or anything. She was glad she’d gone for a warm coral pink which picked up the red undertones of the suit. If she’d chosen something more blue toned to go with the top she’d have looked like a ghost, her face was already looking bluish-grey from anxiety. She resisted the urge to dust her cheeks with more blush.

At last she stood up straight and jutted out her chin, looking herself firmly in the eye. She was ready to show everyone who she truly was.

She stared firmly at her phone for the whole commute, not reading any of what was on the screen, every now and then glancing up to check for danger. But the bus was full of sleepy workers, blessedly caught up in their own upcoming battles. She ducked her head again and let her hair fall around her face. She was lucky she’d been able to grow her hair long for years, tying it back into a plain ponytail at the nape of her neck and passing as a hipster sans beard.

At the door to the office she paused one more time and dug through her handbag for the label. Hello, my name is Sophie. She’d written her deadname on there and crossed it out, just to make it completely clear – the name didn’t bother her all that much anyway. Not now she was able to put it behind her.

She stuck the label to her lapel and took a deep breath, sending out a prayer to whatever God felt up to helping her get through today. Her colleagues wouldn’t be that bad, surely? They were a pretty open minded bunch, right?

Heather would be fine, of course. She’d be waiting in the atrium for her right now so they could walk in together. Jay was gay and pretty gender-non-conforming, and there was a group of much younger temps who would surely be accepting. She was pretty sure Lucy would be keen on talking about pretty dresses with someone else, as most of the other girls were quite butch or otherwise disinterested in clothes.

Ted could be a worry. A competent administrator and a (periodically) inspiring boss, a gleaming streak of ‘Unopposed Despot’ ran through him. Exactly the kind of person who’d see a trans woman as a threat to his fragile world order and snap. They always said it was the quiet ones who were dangerous, a caution that tended to apply all the more if one had too much privilege, and Ted was, as far as Sophie could tell, a cis straight white boomer male.

Yahtzee.

Too late to back down now, though. Sophie took one last deep breath, straightened her blouse and walked in with her head held high. Heather was waiting for her, as promised. Her face split into a delighted grin as soon as she caught sight of her. “You look stunning,” she said, squeezing Sophie’s hands.

“Really?” she asked, unable to help it. “I don’t look like… like a guy making fun, or like a drag queen – because they’re different, you know – or a—”

She shook her head and laughed. “You look like Sophie. How do you feel?”

“Really good,” she admitted, tears prickling the back of her eyes.

“C’mon,” said Heather, slipping her hand into the crook of Sophie’s arm. “Let’s go tell the others.”

She was glad she’d arrived early. There was no way she’d be able to settle down to work buzzing like this. Jay gave her a kiss and insisted she come visit his boyfriend who could sew beautifully. Lucy was flustered at first, but soon got into a passionate discussion about the virtues of Louboutins versus Malono Blahniks.

“Andstrom,” Ted barked from behind her.

Sophie flinched. “Yes, sir?”

He beckoned and backed into his office. Sophie gulped.

“You want me to come with you?” Heather asked. Sophie squeezed her hand, touched by this more than anything. Heather needed this job way more than she did.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, trying to smile convincingly. Even so, the walk to the boss’ office felt like a marathon.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” she said, tapping the doorframe.

“Yeah, come in,” he said, glancing up. Sophie sat down, trying to stop her hands from clenching in her skirt and creasing it. Ted fiddled with a pen, staring at his computer screen. Not reading.

Sophie forced herself to sit up straight. “Is there a problem, sir?”

“You need to change your name with HR?”

“I… beg your pardon?”

He gestured at her lapel. “Your name. I need to know if using your deadname on official documents is going to be a problem. Your paycheque won’t go into your… old bank accounts if the names don’t match.”

“I… hadn’t thought about that,” she said. Her mind was blue-screening.

Ted just nodded, tapping something into his computer. “You had a positive response so far?”

“Yes! Yes, sir.”

“Good. You tell me if anyone’s difficult, you hear?” He glared at her. There was that despot, she told herself with a touch of hysteria. She nodded.

He leaned back, looking away again. He seemed to be having trouble meeting her eye. “Good, good. Well. Back to work, eh, Andstrom?”

Sophie’s lip twitched. “Thanks, sir.”

She stood up, carefully smoothing her skirt where the seat had creased it. As she left, she cast a glance back to her boss. He was holding a framed photograph, staring down at it with the kind of sadness that made her gulp. She closed the door quietly behind her and wondered who had been sacrificed to teach the despot humility like that.

[bearsfakedthemoonlanding]

Work Safety

It is very neat to feel safe at work.

[Content warning: mild transphobia, misunderstanding, and internalized transphobia. Mentions of the Supreme Court.]

Context: A little over a month ago, I moved from my hometown in the midwest to New Orleans, LA.  I knew I loved the city from past visits, but I didn’t actually know what I was getting into.  Two days into being here, I walked into a small grocery store and applied for a job.  I’ve been there now for three weeks.

There is a lesson here in allyship, and in living your truth loudly enough that other people grab your wavelength.  On my second day of training, I’d spent enough time with my coworker to figure he was safe.  He’s well over six feet tall, built like a mountain, hands big enough to grab whole sealed meats from the deli case one-handed without dropping them.  He’s also incredibly friendly, very outgoing, and he has the voice. 

When I told him my pronouns, he jumped right on it and asked if it was okay to spread the word around.  I agreed.  I was excited by his support and help here (I’d gotten that sort of support from my college roommates, but never from anyone else, and I figured they were sort of a fluke in that regard.  The kind of perks you get from found family, not from strangers). 

But the next day I notice other people making the effort, stumbling occasionally, but correcting themselves.  Which has never happened before.

And a few days later, when someone messes up and doesn’t notice, I somehow find the guts to speak up.  They say something along the lines of “SHE’ll help you out--”  and I go to help, of course, but also chime in an audible, “THEY. But yes.” 

Anytime I corrected pronouns in front of my parents, my mother would roll her eyes and go off about how I was her little girl, and I can’t expect my family to just change their view of me like that, I can’t expect them to change their language, just let it go, they’re family.  I have an otherwise good relationship with my mother, so I never pushed too hard.  Besides brief rants from my father about “the way God made us” and “there’s only two genders” and “taking it out of God’s hands” I never heard much from him, but I knew his opinions.  My grandmother would claim support, but would also corner me to whisper about how “nobody ACTUALLY wants to be a woman, you just have to pretend,” and would go off on screaming homophobic rants when she was drunk.  Never told her I was a lesbian, or bisexual, or anything.  She’ll find out I’m trans when there’s no more hiding it.

So those were the responses I was used to.  At my last job, as a nurse’s aide in an old folks home, any mention of pronouns or corrections at all were met with a chuckled, “Oh right, my bad, of course,” but my coworkers were far too busy with other things to remember beyond the conversation.  The few who did would persistently get my pronouns wrong, saying things like, “Don’t call [Name] a girl, she’s a THEY.”  As if they were a noun all to itself, a new way of being a person.  Like how they used to say “she’s a he-she” “she’s a queer” “she’s a butch” turning something into a descriptor where it doesn’t belong, making you feel a bit... odd.  Even if queer or butch or they are ways you describe yourself, when someone takes your word and frames it that way around you, you still feel off. 

But that doesn’t happen here.  Coworkers here, even supervisors, say, “Right, I’m sorry,” and correct it.  Every time.  

I wasn’t expecting the chef I worked for to give two singular fucks about my pronouns, let alone about me.  I expected a chef to be like a nurse-- busy, superior, a bit callous and with a hundred more important things to care about than what I had to say.  I just wipe the butts/chop the vegetables/scrub the dishes.  Who cares what kind of gender-freak I am while I do it, so long as I get my job done.  Who cares what they call me.  They don’t owe me anything, right? 

But he’s gone out of his way to be careful about it.  Correcting pronouns, every time, and he’s told me twice now that he’s “really trying to pay attention to it, and to let other people know too” and he “doesn’t want to slip up.”  This is a mid-forties rocker dude who wears bandanas and cargo shorts and signs along badly to the Beasty Boys.  Past experience has taught me not to trust these men.  He’s changing his mind. 

And maybe I’m feeling a little burgeoned by the Supreme Court’s decision, even though I know it’s rather arbitrary.  A friend of mine has been working in the factories back home since he finished high school, and any time words gotten out that He’s not just a butch woman, he’s been out the door by the end of the week.  If they can’t fire you for being trans, they’ll come up with another excuse. 

Regardless, I’ve been feeling brave.  Maybe it’s the testosterone.  Maybe it’s the camaraderie.  Maybe it’s my girlfriend’s support, or the Supreme Court, or the uprisings, or nine hundred miles between me and my parents--

But yesterday, when a coworker slipped up with the “he/she/they” situation for at least the fifth time that day, I laughed loudly and yelled, “She?  Just you wait till I grow a beard, then you’ll stop with this SHE business!” 

And they laughed.  And the chef added, “Yeah, or the voice drop,” because I’ve mentioned it several times before.  I’m just so excited for these new changes, excited to be put together correctly, excited for less people to fuck up about me.  And I don’t want to drive my girlfriend crazy talking about it, so I gush at my coworkers, explaining the voice drop, the facial hair (maybe), the masculinization, the fact that a lot of things will be underway at the five month mark, which is conveniently right in time for Christmas (God help us). 

What I’m saying here is that things are good, and this city is good.  I didn’t think it would make such a difference.  I spent so much time around people who thought I was some sort of defect or odd-ball or attention seeker that I started to believe them, and to be treated like a normal person?  To say something and have people listen?  To be given respect? 

I almost can’t believe it’s possible.

[pubefest2020]

Let’s get ready to writeeeeeee!!!

Sunday is when the author signups open, so time to get your engines fired up! The prompt list is here, but I saw tumblr being an asshole and not opening it the other day, so I’m going to paste below the cut. Take a look, pick your top five, and get ready to kill us all on Sunday (I’ll send out prompt assignments on 11/11). If you have a friend who wants to write, please encourage them! We’re talking small here: 2k to 8k. Knock that drabble off your to-do list!

Prompt list under the cut:

Shameless PWP where Harry is too busy with work to keep up with his normal trimming and person B insists that they have sex anyway. Turns out that his full bush (including butt pubes) gives him the strongest musky smell and person B can’t get enough of it. Rimming perhaps?

Harry is shooting for some artsy magazine that has him doing a lot of tasteful partial nudity. At one point he’s almost completely nude and jokingly wants to do some shots that focus on his bush. Person B (probably the photographer) is obsessed and encourages it and they end up with lots of close ups on his thick bush and his fingers in it/pulling it/emphasis on rings and nail polish in this situation

Harry has found an appreciation for being tied down and having person B pull on his pubes; especially those on his mons pubis, but everywhere else too.

Something centred on lesbian Harry’s thoughts about how her grooming habits have changed over the years since no longer feeling the pressures of being in a girlband in her early adult life. Can be either solo or with Person B

Harry + person B, gentle caretaker Dom shaving sub Harry

Harry + person B, rough oral with a lot of focus on nose in pubes?

Harry + Person A + Person B, one holding Harry and being all gentle and sweet, the other shaving Harry’s legs for him. Bonus for bondage and a D/s flair, but I’m not married to that part.

Armpits are gross, right? Smelly and hairy and weird. So why is it that Harry is fixated on B’s? (armpit kink!)

Girl Direction: Harry worships her hirsute girlfriend’s chest, nipple, and belly hair.

B makes a bet with Harry that Harry won’t be able to go the whole summer without shaving. It turns out Harry likes it much more than ever expected.

Trans masculine Harry is excited by all the changes he and his boyfriend (also trans/GNC and on T) are going through, but growing body hair is his surprise fave.

Girl Direction: Her newfound exercise habit means that Harry is seeing a lot more women naked, and she’s starting to feel self-conscious about her pubic hair. B reminds her what’s so great about it.

Girl Direction: Harry is an aesthetician who spends all day long removing body hair and giving skin care treatments. In her fantasies, she’s making women hairier instead of taking it away.

Girl Direction: There’s something about an angry dyke with hairy armpits that makes B wet. Enter Harry, tits out, armpits bushy, and absolutely flirting with B. It shouldn’t make B think about burying her face in Harry’s side, but it really does.

Alien! Harry is still trying to adapt to all the strange things about the human form he’s taken, but body hair is the thing he finds most fascinating of all.

ABO where alphas and omegas get extra hairy when they’ve met a suitable mate. It’s the first time this has happened for Harry or B and they’re really turned on by it.

MPreg: As Harry gets more pregnant, his treasure trail expands and thickens right along with his growing belly.

ABO: Omega Harry would bathe in Alpha B’s sweat if it were possible. Since it’s not, Harry settles on burying themselves in all the most scent-concentrated places of B’s, right among B’s armpit and pubic hair.

Girl Direction: Harry is a proper southern belle whose mother taught her to shave her legs at an early age. As an adult, she’s kept up the practice, but when she meets and falls for B, B’s hairy legs might change that.

GayABO: Alpha Harry isn’t supposed to like the smell of other alphas, but with a rut coming up all they want is for their significant other, alpha B, to let their pubes and pit hair grow so their scent intensifies too.

GayABO: Omega/Omega: Harry loves what slick does to their omega partner’s pubic and leg hair.

Harry is insecure about his lack of chest hair. person b makes him feel better

Armpit licking fetish. Either harry has one or person B has one. I just want some armpits getting licked.

Harry needs help having his ass shaved for some reason (swim team? Photo shoot?) and he enlists person b and it turns into rimming

Harry has a Forced feminization fetish, so body hair shaving/waxing and then cross dressing please  

Harry has a fetish for guys with facial hair/beards eating his ass and making him raw. Maybe the story revolves around person B wanting to shave and harry being sad? And then smut!

Harry likes having his pubes pulled out/pubic hair torture. Person b is freaked out but also supportive and eventually  gets into it

Girl direction! Harry has a bush fetish and loves to go down on natural girls/smell them

After harry comes out as a lesbian she decided to stop shaving and her bff person b also does it in solidarity and she realizes she’s really turned on by it, wants to lick her gal pals hairy pits etc

Harry is a femme lesbian who shaves everything and her partner is a butch lesbian who loves watching the ritual of it, then smooth leg worship sex ensues!!!

Harry’s insecure about her hairy legs at summer camp because she forgot her razor but luckily her hot lesbian cabin mate helps her feel better in more ways than one

Girl direction panty fetish fic that centers around wearing lace panties with pubes escaping the sides, panty sniffing, too tight thongs, sweaty/post work out sex. Harry is submissive, person b is a femdom.

Girl harry joins the gucci gay commune and starts to let all her hair grow out, finds a home with her new found family, falls for the girl wearing the cat mask. Lots of hairy pussy eating and nipple sucking please

harry gets a tattoo on his pubic bone and has to shave his pubes and is very sad about it

all of harry’s friends are talking about having to shave their beards except for him, who barely has any facial hair at all. feeling left out, he decides to shave his pubes, because at least he actually grows hair there.

harry isn’t really allowed to mess around with his hair during the height of 1d, growing it out is the most he can get away with. but he really wants to, so he just starts to colour his pubic hair different colours instead, shaves it into funny shapes, etc

trans girl harry is finally comfortable enough to start presenting as female in public, loves to wear dresses, make-up, and high-heeled boots, but with that comes the general expectation to shave or wax your legs, armpits, and pubes. she struggles with that decision because she actually loves body hair and feels comfortable with it and doesn’t really want to remove it.

Person B suggests that Harry waxes his ass and/or balls and Harry complies. Once they actually do it Harry is overwhelmed by the pain and super turned on by it.

Harry loves Person B’s body hair and pubes, he especially loves it when he is completely clean shaven himself (maybe even being shaved by Person B?) and Person B keeps pointing out their difference in body hair.

Harry comes home from the gym hot and sweaty and person B finds him irresistible. Sex ensues including hairy pit worship and strong sweaty pube focus.

Person B can’t resist the urge to ejaculate in Harry’s bush and proceeds to touch/lick/pull/ etc.

Harry loves to see his wispy chest hair peek through a floral lace top, his hairy legs adorned in knee high socks, his light stubble contrasted with some pink lipstick. Only Person B gets to see his pubic hair spill out the sides of a silk panty and they’re just as obsessed.

Canon compliant NB Harry wants to wax/shave his (or her or their) pubes and underarms and legs for the first time but is anxious about both Person B’s and their fans’/ the public’s reaction. Ft… gender exploration, insecurity, body worship, praise kink. Also maybe focus on Harry’s thought process/emotions before during and after?

something centered around sub lesbian harry feeling insecure abt her body hair and pubes and person b reassuring/ praising her (basically lesbian praise kink and body worship)

GirlDirection 70s/80s pornstar AU: Harry + Person A oral with emphasis on those 70s style bushes. Bonus for feathered hair and bad 70s porn tropes! Maybe a Person B too?

Harry loses a game at a party and is punished by having his legs waxed in the bathroom. It’s painful and he never wants to do it again, but he can’t deny he loves the way his legs feel and wants the stranger he’d been eyeing all night to feel them too. Thigh fucking would be nice

Harry is pregnant and the hormones make him hairier than he’s ever been and he doesn’t know what to think. Person B might be obsessed. Pubes/chest/armpits/etc.

Highly detailed wank fic where Harry plays with himself and loves his bush and hairy balls (and foreskin 🤷🏼‍♀️)

Being on tour is stressful. Harry finds the act of shaving his legs in a dark hotel room with a bunch of candles lit oddly relaxing. Getting off afterward while scratching up his smooth thighs is just a bonus.

Girl direction fic where Harry usually shaves her pubes but let them grow after ending things with her last partner. She meets person B on a night out and they go home to hook up, but Harry remembers she hasn’t shaved and gets really self-conscious, until person B assures her they’re into it

Person A is trans masc and recently started T, and they’ve just started growing stubble on their face and are really excited about it. Person B worships it and experiences beard burn while getting eaten out

Girl! Harry is a model doing a photo shoot that involves posing with flowers in her bush - maybe she hooks up with the photographer, or maybe just admires the way it looks herself?

Girl direction where Harry is attempting to shave her pubes in the bathroom but is having trouble, so she nervously calls her roommate/best friend in to help and there is a lot of sexual tension that leads to Harry getting eaten out for the first time and the two of them admitting their feelings for each other

50s/60s/70s Girl Direction AU where normally pasty Harry spends a summer in LA and gets super tan. Her girlfriend comes to visit and is obsessed with the way Harry’s tan lines look against her full bush. Maybe they take pictures?

canon compliant xf era Harry has never been as close to another boy as he is to Louis. He’s fascinated by their differences in their bodies especially body hair wise

Girl Direction: Harry and Person B are both not into shaving very often, if at all. Harry (or person B) have only ever been with people who are clean shaven. Together they decide to explore the hairy side to being a lesbian, maybe rubbing?

I’m struggling with a less severe form of trichotillomania, a disorder where you have the urge to pull out your hair and I’d love to see a fic about it. Person A struggles with trichotillomania (in which way and which intensity is up to you). Person B is trying to help them recover (in which way and how successful that is is up to you, they could help them find professional help) and expresses love for person A’s body hair.

No pairing, just Harry. Harry has been letting his body hair grow, and he likes the sensation of it against his fingers. When masturbating he accidentally gets his rings caught in his pubes and realises that he loves the pain.

Harry casually lets his grooming habits slip a bit. Maybe he’s busy and doesn’t think it’s too big of a difference. Person B notices but doesn’t mind so it never really gets brought up. One day Harry is taking nudes and suddenly realizes what a difference it is and maybe he’s obsessed with it.

Recently out queer girl! Harry has a history of dating men who shame her for the slightest trace of body hair. Person B is the first girl she’s dated, and Harry keeps herself completely hairless at first because of old habits. It comes up in conversation one day and Person B reassures Harry that it’s ok to let her hair grow if she wants, so she does just that, and Person B shows her exactly how much she loves it.

Person B loves running her hands over girl!Harry’s soft back and tummy hair. Harry thinks they are grossed out by this at first and gets insecure, but quickly realizes that they find it sexy on her

Person B (a work colleague) one day mistakes Harry for a woman from behind because of his long hair and is quite embarrassed about it. Harry assures Person B he’s not offended and casually slips that it excites him a bit when people make this mistake. Afterward, Harry’s innocent comment becomes more and more sexually charged in Person B’s fantasies and Person B decides to be an adult and do something about it. Luckily, Harry’s just as horny.

Harry wants to dress as a mermaid for Halloween , and decides to wax in preparation (for his custom-made shell bra top and shimmery sequined tail) (any pairing)

Person B is on the set of the Lights Up mv enjoying how wet and hairy Harry is and he can’t wait for them to wrap up filming so he can ravish him

Harry and person B try full suspension bondage for the first time, but realise maybe they should have shaved harry’s pubes first as they keep getting caught in the rope. Not to worry, turns out harry enjoys the feeling more than they could have anticipated

Girl Direction or standard - Asexual Harry starts dating person B, who is completely accepting of Harry being ace. Together they go on a journey together to explore different forms of intimacy. The thing Harry likes best is when person B spends times stroking and appreciating her/his bush and pit hair because it feels nice and she/he feels safe knowing that person B won’t take it any further. Person B finds it deeply erotica and together they work out ways for person B to feel sexually satisfied without Harry feeling uncomfortable/bored

harry and person b 69-ing with lots of focus on them smelling/touching/licking/biting/pulling/appreciating each other’s pubes

Sub Person B worshipping dom Harry’s pubes. Maybe including face sitting?

Anything about body hair turning gray with age! Could be just Harry’s, or with a Person B, girl (woman) direction, whatever you want.

Harry is turned into a werewolf and notices that he’s suddenly growing more body hair than he used to, even when it’s not a full moon

Girl Direction: Harry watches Person B curse someone out for making a comment about her unshaved legs and pits, and immediately falls in love and has to show Person B’s body hair her appreciation

Girl Direction: Harry and Person B go on a road trip in a hippie van and decide to forego shaving in order to get the real hippie experience. By the end of the trip, they’re super into it.

Harry is a mermaid with pubes! Maybe human Person B is surprised but intrigued by it?

Harry has a gay epiphany when he can’t stop staring at other guys’ body hair at the gym - in the showers, or in the locker room, or when they’re all sweaty and gross from working out..

Person A and B loving and appreciating Harry’s body hair during a threesome!

Harry and Person B often help each other shave or wax or trim their body hair, purely for practical reasons, of course. It’s totally platonic. Until it isn’t.

Harry is a professional hockey player who’s been hooking up with his tream captain for months. Who knew the stench of an after game lockerroom could be a such turn on? (body worship, hairy/sweaty men, smelling kink)

[lokilover9]

The Slutty Webs one Weaves

Chapter 3

Loki had a sudden recollection and snickered. "No doubt, after my second last visit." 

"Change the subject Snowflake, or I'll christen my newest suit model." 

"How dashing you looked in pink fishnets, a matching thong, studded collar and leash."

"Loki…"

"Pepper looked divine as a dominatrix. Thigh high, leather, bitch boots and whip in hand. Is it your thing being punished?"

"'My' thing? If I ever walked in on the shit that turns your crank, I'd end up strapped to a gurney in a straight jacket."  

"Come now. Letting your imagination run wild because I'm me?"

"My imagination flashes 'ladies only' on a neon sign, the size of Manhattan."

"I was referencing my sorcery abilities and plentiful stamina, but no wonder you complain of headaches."

"As if that's the only reason. Do you even know why your wife is here, Loki?" 

"I do." He sat on the couch and took a long swig from the whiskey bottle. "And by now, likely despises me."

"Had I not saved your demented ass." Tony revealed everything, Loki feigned obliviousness and expressed gratitude, yet their friendly bantering continued.

"Thanks man. Especially for taking her in."

"That was Pepper's doing. I would've bunk'd her on my landing deck with a porta potty and sleeping bag."

"And I would've posted shots of you in lingerie, on social media."

"WHAT?!" You took pictures???"

"I wanted to, but Peppers murderous glare fueled my exit."  

"Fucker." Tony jested. "Be thankful I didn't set her loose." 

"Topping from the bottom were you? My perspective conveyed otherwise." 

"Says the 'guru' of perversions and fetishes."

"That would be perfect on a t shirt. Make someone millions, while exposing sexual deviants." 

"Like yourself?"

"How dareth the teapot calleth the kettle black." Said Loki. "Have you forgotten your Christmas Eve party two years ago?"

"What of it?"

"Long after everyone else retired, I opted to babysit when you stayed up drinking tequila and brandy shots.

"Ick. Worst hangover ever. What, didn't I thank you?"

"Worse. You thought I was Santa and to get off his naughty list, confessed to past sins that made Hugh Hephner appear a choir boy."

'Shit.' "Like?"

"Attending furry parties as one 'Fozzie Bear', hosting orgies in moving limousines, were well acquainted with a stripper you called Princess of Darkness, and once woke in a seniors tub in only your sneakers, then made your exit in her Betty Boop robe. Shall I continue?" 

Tony rose a palm. "Nope. The slutty teapot shall calleth the kettle blacketh no more and did not shag his best friends grandmother."

Loki's brows rose in amusement. "Norns, man. What were you smoking?"

"I can explain. She was a snowbird who owned a cottage Mike threw random parties at. I'd passed out in her ensuite and as a joke, him another buddy burned my clothes in the fireplace, void of my wallet and keys. Being February, I might've froze to death without the thievery. Imagine the headlines. Son of Howard Stark dies a Boopsicle."

Loki laughed. "Why so eager to leave?"

"Mike had a loopy sister whose besty showed up after midnight. Loopy had a crush on me and unaware of her identity at the time, I'd fucked besties older sister...behind a movie theater."

"Impressive. Go on." 

"Mike left me a note saying, 'they know', so I tiptoed out of there at dawn."

"Did you fear this, loopy?"

"Who didn't. Picture a spoiled, ill tempered bully, known as Stalking Sasquatch, who could've played linebacker for the NFL. I only escaped her ramming my testicles out my arse because we moved two days later."

"I'm curious. How did you conclude 'I'm' demented after reading only one paragraph?"

"Because I'm an idiot who read entire stories, waiting for Pepper to come back to bed."

Loki laughed again. "How many were there?"  

"Archiveofourown has hundreds, but according to Astrid, tumblr is rampant with entire blogs dedicated to you." Stark approached the bar and downed some tequila. "Prick. That never happened to me."

"As flattering as it may seem, I wish Astrid hadn't discovered them. Pepper wouldn't approve either."

"True and probably blow torch my dick."

Loki stood as the elevator door opened.

"Are you sure it wasn't my fault that nice officer almost fell off his horse?" 

"Nah, I blame your cleavage." Said Pepper. 'Not that calling Tony Stark's girlfriend, 'Vagina,' on a crowded street corner wasn't distracting.'

"Hello, my lovely."

Astrid stilled with Loki's voice, set down her bags and blankly stared at him. 

"Right. I'll return your suitcase." 

"Where is it?" She asked.

"In the truck. I was hoping you would come home." 

Her arms crossed in defiance. "What if I'm not ready?"

"Then I'll check into a hotel."

"And do what?" 

"I don't know, Astrid. Watch tv, grow a beard, drop water balloons from the roof, play 'Bellhop rides the elevator in his underwear.' Whatever it takes for the duration it takes for you to forgive me. And as peculiar as those stories may be, do remember I knew nothing of their existence until you did. Most importantly, I'm sorry they hurt you." 

She suddenly bolted across the room, sprung into his arms, swung her legs around his waist and started kissing his whole face. "Forgiven! I missed you. Wanna get naked?"

"Not now, darling. We've an audience."

She giggled and slid to her feet. "Let's go home." Astrid hugged her hosts and quietly whispered to Pepper. "Thanks for the lesson."

Her response was a quick wink.

"Now it's your turn to visit Asgard. Bye guys!"

Tony feigned enthusiasm. "Hear that Miss Potts? Maybe area 51 will loan is a spaceship."

Loki thanked them again from the elevator. "Oh and Tony? Your car keys are in the guest room Astrid destroyed."

Starks mouth fell open as it closed. "Cancel that spaceship." 

Pepper went to sort her shopping treasures while Tony indulged in more tequila, then braved approaching the guest room, plugging his nose. 

"Little shit. Can't believe after everything we did for..." He fell silent upon opening the door. The night tables were back in place with their lamps repaired, the vomit and bottles were gone, the floor spotless, bed made and the air carried a hint of sandalwood. In its center sat the missing ice bucket and he smirked upon finding his keys inside. "You're still a little shit." 

"I hope you weren't talking to me." Pepper stood in the doorway with tousled hair, her makeup enhanced, lips slut red, wearing lingerie and black stilettos.

Tony whistled in approval and eyed the handcuffs dangling from her fingers. "Definitely not, my scrumptious Vagina. What are your plans for those?"

She cuffed her wrists behind her back and sauntered to him. "Daddy's helmet gone bye bye. Butch been a 'very' bad girl and must be punished."

No way was Daddy about to reveal the key for those cuffs went bye bye too. He'd readied them and Peppers favorite toys for an evening of fun, when their guests unexpectedly arrived. In his haste to hide everything, the key mysteriously vanished. Nat seemed kinky. Maybe she had a similar set. He hoped. 

"Happy to oblige. On the bed, face down with your ass in the air, Butch."

When Loki and Astrid entered their vehicle in the Towers underground, he opened portal, exiting in the woods on Staten Island and she pouted. 

"Not hiking again. Skunks are mean." 

He tisked. "Bushy tailed scoundrels. I did warn you to keep away."

"I thought it was cute. Where are we?"

"A dumping location of one golden eyed jester. No matter." He conjured a cabin and opened its door. "Still wish to get naked?" 

They fucked for hours until Astrid lay spent, resembling a deflating blow up doll. 

"Dress now my lovely? I'll gather your belongings from the truck."

With her brain afloat in subspace, she hazily replied. "Yes Master." 

[eevachu]

Do. Them. All.

oh! um- well… I GUESS HERE WE GO. LONG POST IS LONG:

1. what is your sexuality? 

2. what gender do you identify as? 

Cis lady

3. how long have you been aware of your sexuality/gender? 

It has been a long journey, that started with me thinking I was bisexual (but picky!) in highschool to me thinking I was pansexual (but homoromantic!) in college to me watching the “Battle of Times Square” scene in Ghostbusters last year and realizing I will never actually be attracted to a man when I have seen the one true light of lesbianism.

Gender-wise, I did some soul-searching in college when a lot of my friends finally felt safe enough to transition, and other than an unhealthy obsession with beard-growing, I’m good out here as a chick. 👌✨

4. do you have any preferences? 

Girls who look like they could kill me with their bare hands, if they wanted to, but really just want to gently comb their fingers through my hair.

5. share a positive memory about coming out! 

I don’t really have any. I don’t really “come out” to straight people anymore because the one time I did, the friend I told immediately asked if I was attracted to/going to hit on her.

6. how do you feel about pride month? 

We should all be given the whole month off paid and trans/genderqueer/NB people should get an additional $1000 cash. 

(I like it.)

7. do you participate in pride related events? any other events? 

I get a cold or something happens every June where I don’t feel up to going to Pride, but like HOPEFULLY THIS YEAR? (Baby’s first Pride at 25 is gonna be WEIRD. Someone hold my hand.)💦

8. how do you feel about lgbtq roles in media? 

I WANT MORE. I WANT THEM ALL. EVERYONE IS GAY.

9. do you feel pride in who you are? 

Yeah, I really like who I am and I’m proud of what I had to go through to get here. I like that things feel right in my life, for once.

10. who has been your supportive idols in your self discovery? 

Looking back, Karolina Dean and Xavin from Runaways were some of the first gays to really have an impact on my life. When Xavin starts IDing as female it like… struck a chord with me about their relationship. I was just like, “yeah that feels right.”

Hannah Hart was a BIG DEAL for me and meeting her was so nice. It’s so great to see an openly lesbian woman being real and kind and succeeding. Watching her evolve and grow over time has been amazing. Also, that bod now, like omg Harto-san, you have become your true self and that self is making me BLUSH.

Rebecca Sugar is weirdly important to me, being in the animation industry, myself. Like… it’s so good, seeing her make a show about girls loving other girls after BEING PERSONALLY TOLD that gay content was inappropriate for children while I was in school. Noelle Stevenson and the crew on Lumberjanes are similar, because you get told you can’t make queer content for kids by the old guard. That it won’t sell, that it CAN’T sell in certain markets and that kids won’t get it. All I can think of is that HAD I known at 7 that girls can like girls maybe I would’ve asked Emma out after class and my life would be different. I don’t want that to keep happening to little girls and I’m so glad that people like Rebecca and Noelle exist.

@yamino​ and @summerlightning​ are like… life goals and wife goals. I’ve been following them for years and sometimes I just think how I’d want like EXACTLY their lives. Make gay webcomics with my pretty wife. That’s all I want to do. (Hey, read their comic @sisterclaire​, it’s gay af, you’ll love it.)

Hayley Kiyoko is a biracial sapphic queen and I love her and she is so nice and genuine and she gives GREAT HUGS. She sings songs about girls who like girls and they’re GOOD SONGS. Not just like campy gender-ambiguous low-budget stuff. She makes… god, her music videos. And I have met this small human and been to her concerts and the feeling of love and safety around that night was LIFE ALTERING.

(Also, can we talk about how that’s the flag I gave her hanging up on stage behind her and how much I love her and still cry about that? See question #26 for that story.)

Kate McKinnon, see #3 for the latest in Eevachu self-discoveries. She’s just… SHE’S REALLY IMPORTANT TO ME. She’s famous and she’s weird and she’s out there playing big roles as an openly lesbian woman. She got me through 2016, which was honestly, THE FUCKING WORST. And she helped me accept that I can be a lesbian and still succeed.

BASICALLY, I WANNA SEE ALL THE SAPPHIC WOMEN SUCCEED, SO THAT I THINK I CAN SUCCEED AND FEEL SAFE DOING SO. REPRESENTATION MATTERS.

12. what sort of advice to have you lgbtq teens? 

Your parents are just people and one day, you’ll be better than them. You are strong, and you will find the people you are meant to be your people. You’re going to evolve and change throughout your whole life. Don’t be all tumblr witchhunt-y; people make mistakes and grow. Adults barely have any idea what they’re doing, we’ve just done it more.

13. have you come out to friends and family? 

Like occasionally? I only formally “come out” to other gays, so that we may huddle together like penguins in a storm of heternormativity.

14. how do you feel about the term “coming out” ? 

I don’t like that it’s made to seem like such a huge deal and that it’s a one time thing. Like… it’s such a pain and you have to do it over and over again and then all the straight people in the room get WEIRD ABOUT IT and you’re now the outsider and the feeling fucking SUCKS. I just don’t like that it’s a thing. The actual term is fine for what it is, since I don’t have a solutions otherwise.

15. do you believe there is a “closet” to come out of? 

Yeah, and it sucks that people feel unsafe enough that they have to be in one.

16. any tips on coming out? 

I am literally the worst person to ask about this because I just like… don’t. lol I let people figure it out. Non-queers love testing out their “gaydar.”

17. what’s your biggest pet peeve when it comes to lgbtq characterization in media? 

Lesbians for the male gaze. HEY BUDDY, LITERALLY THE OPPOSITE POINT OF LESBIANISM. NO BOYS ALLOWED.

18. what’s your favorite parts of lgbtq characterization in media? 

When queer people get to play queer characters and make their own queer stories and I get to sit there and cry because it’s so GENUINE AND GOOD.

19. what did your teachers say about the lgbtqa community in school? 

Well, my animation teachers would low key be like that won’t sell (see that thing I said about Rebecca Sugar in #10). But I had a gay/straight alliance in highschool, so it was fine.

20. do you practice safe sex with the same gender? 

At this point, I would probably practice any sex with the same gender. (But yes, please.)

21. what’s an absolute turn off for you in the opposite/same gender? 

I don’t really like traditional butch/femme role types and I’m not into really masculine ladies. I like girls who are flexible with their gender expression like I am.

22. what’s an absolute turn on for you in the opposite/same gender? 

I am a sucker for a strong independent femme in heels that would love to smash the patriarchy and then smash me.

23. how do you feel about lgbtq clubs/apps/websites? 

I wish there were good ones and that I had time to find them or had a senior-qualified gay to tell me where they are in Toronto. WHERE ARE THEY???

25. how does you country view the lgbtq community? 

Pictured: Justin Trudeau, the Prime Minister at a pride parade.

On the surface, it’s pretty good. We also have to be careful because there are just some dirtbag conservatives waiting for us to get complacent and take away our rights. Currently, there’s a huge fucking thing about a trans right bill, so I’ve gotten to see which of my family member’s are absolute scum.

They’re here, they hate queers, but they’re usually drunk uncles.

26. favorite lgbtq actor/actress?

Hi, yes, hello, haaaaave you met Flat Kate? (see question #10)

Also, Hayley Kiyoko, because like…

…BIG GAY FLAG STORY TIME. So I went to her concert in Toronto this spring and I had everyone outside the venue that I could leave messages on it for her. All of the messages were so funny and heartfelt and there were so many baby gays at the concert and my old gay heart grew 3 sizes that day because they were there with friends and their parents and I was just SO HAPPY AND PROUD.

Then I meet Hayley because bitch splurged on VIP tickets. She gives the best hugs, and she took the time with fans and she was so genuinely happy to be there. We had a great talk and I was just thanking her for being her and doing what she do. And if you know me, you know how important it is that there’s biracial representation and she like got that. And then I give her the flag, which I had drawn on because I’M THAT KID and she’s saying how she’s gonna treasure it and read all of them and I’m like dying and trying not to openly WEEP.

Then I get into the concert which is ALL SAPPHICS, so I’m like the most comfortable that I have ever been in my entire life. Then the sound guys are setting up and they PULL OUT MY FLAG. Now, everyone knew me from when I had gotten people to write messages on the BIG GAY FLAG (”COME SIGN MY BIG GAY FLAG” is what I had been screaming), so when this flag comes out all the girls around me are like, “Girl, that’s your big gay flag.” And then I ASCENDED TO THE ASTRAL PLANE AND IT WAS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE. 

27. any tips for heterosexual and/or cisgender people on how to handle lgbtq events/news? 

Don’t fucking make it about you. You aren’t the centre of the goddamn universe. No, you aren’t hearing about “gay news” too much for how many of us there are.

29. how do you feel about receiving questions about your sexuality/gender?

I’m cagey about it. It always feels so uncomfortable when it’s non-queer people asking. Queer people asking is fine and we can have a good dialogue usually, but cishet people treat me like I’m a novelty and it’s gross sometimes.

Like… dyke is tired, I don’t have time to give you the Introduction to LGBTQ+ class.

[fresh-princess-is-here]

Valentines Exchange!

The time for Valentines is finally here! I really enjoyed participating in @ftfanfics event and thank them for taking the time to make it!

My Valentines partner is: @sonnets-of-beauty

I hope you enjoy this, I really liked making it! ^^ 

Pairing: Stingue 

Rating: T+ (mild swearing) 

Words: 2,484.

Title: Bitch or Butch

Summary: In where Sting thinks he’s the ‘butch’ but finds out he’s just the wife instead. Rogue puts up with his insanity, of course. 

It was a question Sting and Rogue got asked constantly, and whilst it annoyed them to no end that people continued to ask for labels in their relationship, they both had different answers.

Sting would tell people he was the butch for the obvious reasons; charisma, attitude and his acceptably awesome sense of fashion.

Rogue would tell people to mind their own business, and let Sting go on about whatever he wants – if his boyfriend didn’t bother him about it.

But, of course, Sting would begin to bother him because despite always answering people that he was the butch, a lot of people would just laugh it off and tell him ‘okay’ as if placating a small child.

It was when Sting had just finished cooking dinner – Rogue couldn’t cook to save a life -  that he decided to test Rogue and once and for all, figure out who was the butch in their relationship. He turned to the spice rack and chose one that he didn’t normally add to this sort of dinner, before throwing caution to the wind and putting a teaspoon in the mixture. Rogue was at the dinner table, playing with his phone when Sting bought out their plates and sat down opposite him.

Rogue placed his phone down and they ate in silence, before Rogue halted his movements, staring down at the spaghetti bolognaise in surprise, “Did you… change something?”

“I added some garlic.” Sting stated before looking up, raising his eyebrow, a silent challenge in his eyes, “Do you like it?”

Rogue placed the fork down slowly, “What was wrong with it before?”

“I thought it could use some flair. Is that a problem?” Sting asked, his tone verging on patronising as he dared his boyfriend to mention anything about his cooking. Rogue’s jaw worked slowly, and Sting watched, before Rogue simply shrugged.

“I’ll get used to it.”

Sting inwardly cheered as he won that small display of dominance, further solidifying his thoughts of being the ‘butch’ in their relationship.

 It was a few days later when Sting decided to test him again, and this time, it was more intense than simply adding another ingredient into the mix. Rogue didn’t necessarily like change. Sting knew this much about his partner, and usually, it proved to be a great source of entertainment when he wanted to annoy or irritate his partner.

He moved the TV unit to the other side of the room, changed the curtains and adjusted the lounges accordingly, smirking sharply at the challenge presented to Rogue. He checked the time, before dashing into the bedroom, to pull out the two topaz coloured pillows he had bought after finishing work, just to further vex Rogue, and see his reaction.

He placed them on the lounge, before frowning, leaning over to fluff and arrange them a little nicer. Then he went into the Kitchen to start making dinner. Thirty minutes later, the door opened and the sound of Rogue’s keys jingling made Sting’s heart race, a mischievous smile spreading across his lips.

He listened to his footsteps, before they stopped suddenly.

Sting bit his bottom lip, drowning an ecstatic chuckle before calming himself and popping his head out the Kitchen walk-way, “Rogue, dinner is half-way done!”

“Sting… Can you come here?”

Sting nearly burst with excitement at the forced patience in his tone, and knew it was show time. No doubt, Rogue wanted to change everything back, but Sting – being the butch – would prevail and intimidate him to silence.

He walked into the lounge-room, eyes easily finding Rogue, who stared at the changes with a blank look on his features. His dark hair was tied back with a hair-tie and he wore his uniform well, shoulders filling out the shirt easily.

“What’s up?” Sting chirped, muffling his mirth with an inquisitive look as Rogue’s eyes wandered over to him slowly.

“Did you change the…?”

Sting nodded a few times, overlooking the room as if he only just noticed the change and didn’t spend a good hour making sure everything was perfect, “I thought it might be nice to mix things up.”

“You mix things up in the Kitchen, not the room where we sit and watch Chicago Fire.” Rogue’s voice was deep, a silent threat but refusing to back down, Sting narrowed his eyes at his boyfriend.

“I worked hard on this Rogue. If there’s a problem, just say it.”

Rogue turned away from the drastic changes to his undoubtedly favourite room, and eyed Sting. They stared at each other for a long, silent moment. Sting wondered if he was really going to fight him on this, then felt a little guilty that he was doing this at all.

But Sting had to know, he wasn’t crazy in thinking he was the butch, right?

Rogue’s eyebrows furrowed and he took a deep breath in, before his shoulders relaxed, and he murmured, “It looks… nice. I’ll deal with it.”

Sting’s eyes widened and he glanced around, not exactly feeling triumphant anymore since Rogue wasn’t putting up any fight against his change. Instead, a feeling of happiness settled into him, “Really? You like it?”

“I’ll learn too.” Rogue shrugged, before making his way towards the bedroom, sparing a glance behind him, “Is there anything new in here?”

Sting shook his head, and watched his boyfriend disappear before a smile broke out on his face. Despite Rogue proving that Sting was definitely the butch, Sting couldn’t get over the fact that his partner was trying so hard to make him happy, even though it was way out of his comfort zones.

He gave one of the new couch cushions a soft pat before returning to the Kitchen, where he luckily saved the homemade pizza’s from burning. 

With Sting’s fears of being out-dominated put to rest, he stopped the ‘tests’ that he was subjecting Rogue to after the lounge-room. He decided that two tests were enough and simply enjoyed his time with Rogue.

He had been on his break, and dropping off Rogue’s keys at the precinct – which he had uncharacteristically left at home – when he had overheard a conversation with Rogue and two other offices. He lurked for a little, curious when one laughed.

“Seriously Rogue, there is nothing you’d change about Sting?”

“I don’t like change.” Rogue answered lamely, before adding, “I fell in love with him because of who he is, isn’t it pointless to try and change him from that?”

The guys made equally idiot jokes about being whipped but Sting just smiled, about to announce his presence when the other voice chimed in, “What I’d change about Sarah, is where she shaves. I swear, her legs are always silky smooth but her arms…”

“You are one to talk, you’ve got enough hair on you to make a blanket for the whole precinct!” The other one laughed as Rogue mused, “I don’t mind Sting’s hair. It would be… interesting to see him like that.”

Sting was surprised, Rogue wasn’t usually the one to share details about the pair of them. He also didn’t entirely put down the idea of Sting shaving. Honestly, it hadn’t crossed his mind. Rogue had always known he didn’t grow a beard easily, and his leg hair wasn’t all that noticeable – since he was blonde – but during their time together, neither one had mentioned anything about shaving expect Rogue’s five o’clock shadow that sometimes made an appearance.

Sting turned around abruptly and dropped his keys on the desk, waving to the receptionist at the entrance before dashing out, deciding that the minute he got home, he would change one more thing and see what Rogue’s reaction was.

Turns out shaving your legs was a lot more difficult than Sting first thought. He was propped up on the side of the bath, leg crooked out in front of him, hand holding the plastic handle of the razor whilst the helped him balance on the porcelain edge.

His back hurt from stretching and he had nicked himself on the ankle a fair few times, which made him swear savagely – because ow that hurt – but he was determined to the cause and in a bit of a rush since Rogue would finish in an hour or so and he hadn’t even begun to make dinner yet.

He slid the razor up his skin impatiently, careful to stop just before his knees as another strip of hairless, shaven skin greeted him. He ran his fingers down it and preened proudly to himself, having to agree that it was really smooth.

He only hoped that Rogue would like it.

He began to get the underside of his calf, so absorbed in his task – and humming ‘I Feel Like A Woman’ under his breath – that he didn’t even notice the sounds of the front door closing, keys being shaken and then the footsteps that made their way to the bedroom.

He was focusing his efforts around the curve of his Achilles heel, when the door slid open and Rogue stepped inside. Sting jumped and cursed when the sharp blade sliced into his skin, leaving a small nicked mark. Rogue’s eyes widened at the sight of him, sitting on the bathtub, shirtless, wearing only a pair of boxer-briefs, leg covered in shaving cream.

Sting wanted to explain but the blood began to slide and drip onto the floor and he growled, “Motherfucker, that hurts.” Rogue sighed, shaking his head slowly, as he walked over to the cupboard under the sink and pulled out a hand towel, wetting it a little before crouching down to press it against the wound.

Sting pressed his lips together, as Rogue held the cloth there for a few quiet seconds before asking, “Alright, I give. What is wrong with you lately?”

Sting opened his mouth to explain what he was doing but Rogue cut him off with a sharp look, “And I mean all of it. The dinner, the lounge-room, now this? I thought it was just you being a little shit and trying to make me go insane, but this…”

Sting waited until he pulled the cloth away, having stopped the bleeding, blurting, “All our friends don’t believe me when I say I’m the butch and it’s getting really ridiculous, so I did the dinner thing to see if you would argue with me and-”

“You idiot.” Rogue hissed, reaching over to grab the medicine box from underneath the sink, and pull out a small Band-Aid whilst stating, “This was all about you and your ego? Who cares what other people think?”

“I don’t but I wanted to see if you would-”

“Tell you to stop changing things?” Rogue drawled, pressing the down the Band-Aid to the cut, before shaking his head, “You’re so stupid.”

“I stopped, okay!” Sting’s voice shook, his face heated at Rogue’s words that didn’t match his tender actions at all. “When you said the lounge-room looked nice, I decided I wouldn’t do it anymore. But then I heard you and your friends talking about shaving and wanted to see what would happen if I shaved my legs for you!”

Rogue, who had been cleaning up the blood on the tiled floor with a piece of toilet paper, stilled. Sting huffed angrily, throwing the razor into the bath with a growl and crossed his hands over his chest. He felt his heart pound away in his chest as he imagined kicking his partner in the face and then maybe throwing him out the window, so he could sleep on the street.

Lector who had been cuddling with Frosch on the couch, sauntered in and took one look at the pair of them. Sting twitched, unable to handle such sass from a cat. Lector left the room a second later, giving them both a disdainful look – probably because Sting was causing such a ruckus -  before disappearing once again.

Rogue glanced up at him, straightening his spine so their eyes met more evenly, “You shaved your legs for me?”

Sting refused to answer, instead settling to glare at the wall opposite Rogue’s body.

“Don’t ignore me Sting.” Rogue murmured, his voice deep as Sting continued to do exactly what he wanted to do. Which was ignore him because he felt foolish, and stupid, and he didn’t like either of those feelings – okay?

When Sting didn’t answer, Rogue sighed and the next moment, he felt a warm hand brush against the skin that he had successfully shaved before being interrupted. Sting jumped at the sensitive sensation, head snapping towards Rogue who was clearly trying to hide a smile.

“How many times did you cut yourself?”

“Only twice.” Sting grumbled, watching Rogue’s hand dance over his hairless skin. Rogue tilted his head, and his fingers swept to his ankle, counting the number of cuts there. Sting’s throat tightened and he wheezed, “Those are birthmarks.”

“There’s five of them. Which means you cut yourself five times.” Rogue sounded amused and Sting glared at him heatedly.

“It’s what I get for trying to be a good wife.” Sting snapped back before stilling in surprise, blinking when his lips blurted out the word. Rogue didn’t seem all that surprised and just stood up, a cool smile playing on his lips, dark mirth twinkling in his eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t mean to say wife-”

Rogue’s chuckle cut his words off, “You are a wife, though. Granted, an annoying, extremely high-maintenance wife that works on my nerves, but you like the role so I don’t say anything. Mostly because I enjoy it as well.”

Sting opened his mouth to deny it, when Rogue gives him a look, “Why else would you fold my underwear?”

“It saves space.” Sting frowned, unable to understand his point before realisation slapped into him. Memories of when Natsu and Lucy visited came flooding back to him, where he would discuss cleaning mixtures with Lucy, share recipes, and even serve them tea with the option of little sugar cubes.

It wasn’t his fault, he liked those little tongs that he was able to serve them with.

Rogue, who had been quiet in his moment of self-realisation, chuckled a little when Sting groaned, leaning forward to press his face into Rogue’s stomach.

“How long?”

Rogue pressed his hand into Sting’s hair to soften the blow, “You started to use the feather duster about two weeks after we moved in together.”

Sting groaned again, the sound truly pitiful as Rogue sighed, running his nails across Sting’s scalp in an odd show of affection.

“I’m so stupid.”

“Yeah, you are.” Rogue agreed before stating, “But luckily, somebody has to put up with your stupidity. And I do so willingly.”

It was a week later, on Valentine’s day when Rogue got an apron with the words ‘the Butch’ on it, and teased him about wearing it when making heart-shaped cookies for the day.

xo 

[confuzzled-fook]

Hi, my name is...

Mattie, I'm a fucking wreck of a human being. 😃

My other half suggested I get back into blogging as a way to vent. I don't know if I really want to, or think it'll help, because really, I want to feel less lonely.

Every post I've put up in support groups gets me no help at all. That or people seriously think a fucking reaction is advice. What do I do with your fucking crying face, Karen??! It doesn't help.

I've been struggling a lot with wondering if I should give up transitioning. It feels so fucking unreachable and part of me just thinks I've been a damn sight more miserable and depressed ever since I started transitioning. Mostly it's because I've done all the small things - binding, cutting my hair (which recently, omfg I don't think this most recent haircut has done anything except make me look like a butch woman... Eep), changing my name - all that is left is the big stuff that will really start putting my life on track. Hormones and top surgery. But the wait and the lack of communication and the fact they seem to steamroller over my intentions has me reeling. I'm putting off my whole life for these things and I know I shouldn't. At the same time I don't know how to avoid doing that.

I can't get a new job. Because I don't want to deal with being that token trans person and explain myself, redo all the work I've done at my current place.

I can't do music. Because I sing and no matter how many chemical rushes make me feel happy, I'm reminded that people just hear "a girl" , so I must look like and be "a girl". The annoying thing is that I worry I'll not have a singing voice if I start T. That I'll miss the high notes that are almost Ariana worthy. Singing has meant so much to me, and yet it causes so much conflict in my head because why do I not sound like matey from this band, but also what if I can't sing anymore or I miss my high range.

I can't really be who I want to be with my other half. And this is like, intimate, physical, mental, social stuff. All of it. Around him, I know I look female, nobody would think "that's a gay couple". I hate it. Because without him, I probably look like a butch lesbian women and I hate that too because noooo that's not my point! Intimately, I just feel a barrier. I don't feel attractive. I also have to wear my binder a lot of the time and the skin to skin element is just gone. The way I imagine us is reliant on surgery.

I'm also putting off plans like marrying him because nah, I don't look like myself. And I think that is kind of a wedge between us. Maybe he doesn't feel this, but I do. I can't give myself up to him completely because this, right now, this isn't me. But the NHS timescale if I can't afford private surgery - and I would never do a fundraiser because I think it's selfish af to expect strangers to pay for that, will the people who have had money donated to them ever pay back the kindness, where does it end? - anyway the timescale is years and I'm just like. I'm 25. My life is on pause as it is. Years from now I might be 30, then yay I feel happy for about 17 years and then I kill myself anyway (because part of me is certain I'm going out by suicide). I can't wait and if I have further appointments even to approve hormones, I'm worried I won't be able to take it.

Bearing in mind that if you so much as mention you aren't growing a beard, they note that down like you're a fake trans man. They hold the slightest things against you to almost suggest you aren't worthy and it's like, bitch I know myself more than you ever will, you probably know about 2.3% of my fucking mentality over this. My family and friends probably know between 0 and 15%. I am the only one that knows 100 percent wtf is right for me and how dare you try and say otherwise just because I don't want a damn beard.

Tell the beardless cis guys they aren't real men. I dare you.

Urgh.

Anyway. I guess ranting has kind of helped. Plus I had a major cry fest and a purge to the other half, bless him. I don't suppose he knows how to handle it really, I just implode every now and then because I literally don't think anyone has the time of day to talk to me. Lol so I blog to the Internet like it's my friend. How pathetic.

Thanks friend(s) for letting me speak to you.