#his parents are actually somewhat good about lgbt+ stuff just... not in front of their church

[multishipper-baby]

religious trauma eakwynn au? tell me more

So the AU goes like this: Eak is having trouble living on his own because of the cost of living and shit (they're older in this AU- around 25 years old) so he moves back in with his parents. Thing is, his parents are very religious and deeply care about their reputation at their local church, so they only let him in with the condition that he'll go to church with them every Sunday. Eak doesn't believe in God anymore but doesn't have many options for living arrangements , so he accepts.

Meanwhile Owynn also has a very religious family that he's stuck with. His parents are filthy rich, but they'll disown him if he comes out and he hasn't managed to fulfill his dreams of being a musician, so he doesn't want to risk ending up with no money if they find out the truth. So, instead, he becomes a priest- it's a good way to stay on their good graces without having to get married to a woman, and it gives him power over other people since now the congregation sees him as an authority figure. It's a win/win.

However, being repressed 100% of the time is exhausting, so he occasionally sneaks out into a gay bar to dress up all GNC and hit on random man to satisfy his impulses. And what do you know! On one of those nights, he and Eak randomly meet. They dance, have a couple of drinks, hook up and then move on thinking that they might never see each other again.

...Until the exact next day, when Eak shows up at Owynn's church and the two immediately recognize each other. Owynn is basically dying inside as Eak's mom introduces them and asks him to please guide her poor son who's walked away from God and blah blah blah. They very awkwardly shake hands and try to avoid looking suspicious in front of everyone.

Once they aren't surrounded by people that could get them in trouble, they have a talk. It's clear that they have similar problems surrounding their families, even if Owynn is in much more trouble than Eak is. So, they form an ally ship, which turns into a friendship, which turns into a forbidden romance.

From then on conflict happens- I've thought of two possible ways this could go. Either 1- Eak manages to move out and slowly works towards helping untangle Owynn from his awful family so he can finally leave the church and live the life he wants to live or 2- Eak gets pregnant and now the two of them need to figure a plan ASAP before it becomes noticeable and they both get found out. Very dramatic lmao.

[thosequeenboys]

Love Is Love Is Love (Ben Hardy x Joe Mazzello) - Chapter 2

A/N:  This story started as one shot for the Hardzzello Week “Missing” prompt - Missed (link below). The story unfolded as a series, which I named after a phrase in Lin-Manuel Miranda’s 2016 Tony acceptance sonnet that paid tribute to the victims of the Orlando, FL, night club shooting. Because of my commitment to gay marriage and LGBT rights I wanted to share a story of family joys and challenges through them.

Chap. 1:  Missed  

Summary, Chapter 2:  Puzzled:   Ben and Joe learn new information about Alex, and Joe receives a surprise that promises to complicate their lives.

Warnings:  Doctor’s visit for a check-up; angst

tagging: @warriorteam1924 @heybuddy-drabbles @oniriquex @igotsuckedintothevoid @watercolouredreams @roger-taylors-car @nightoftheland @lapofthemusicgods

The new year unfolded, and the days became longer demarcated by pink, lavender and gold sunsets. Their lives felt pretty stable and had a certain rhythm. Joe was serving as a consultant on a Netflix show, which required travel to LA a week each month.  With his own next gig requiring intense travel slated for later in the year, Ben cherished watching winter slip into spring on walks with his trusty, observant companion by his side, touching the cracked ground where bulbs sprouted, watching birds build nests and smelling flowers.   On a mid-March afternoon that was remarkably spring-like, Ben and Alex returned from playgroup, though this walk was silent and tense.  As they entered home, Joe was wrapping up a call.  

“Alex, how about watching some PBS?”  Ben said, entering the living room and turning on the TV. “Dad and I need to catch up on boring grown-up stuff.  I’ll bring you a snack in a few minutes.”

“OK”, Alex said, knowing he didn’t have a choice and that the ‘boring grown-up stuff’ probably included him. Before Ben left, he tried to change their dynamic by running his hand through his son’s hair.  “Alex. I love you.” Alex gave his dad a side glance, feeling lingering sadness from their earlier interaction when his dad was mad at him, but relieved to hear his dad’s affectionate words.  

Ben sat at the island counter in the kitchen facing Joe who had moved to the other side of the counter, peeling and cutting vegetables for chicken cacciatore.  

“So that thing happened at playgroup.”  Ben looked up at Joe.  Joe felt his chest tighten.  Again? He knew where this was going; they had been there before.   Ben sighed and continued:  

“The toys were laid out on the floor, and he and the other kids were playing.  It was going really well.  They were talking, and he seemed into it.  I thought, ‘Finally! He’s getting how it should be.” Suddenly he went over to the bookshelf and started looking on the shelves.  He pulled out a puzzle box.  I said he had to put it back; we can’t take things without asking. I told him we weren’t playing with that today.  He clutched it and refused.  He sat down with it, and when I tried to take it, he pulled it away. He actually scowled at me.  I gritted my teeth and told him to give it to me. I had smoke coming out of my ears, but I tried not to make a scene.  Fortunately, Becca, you know Georgie’s mom who was hosting, came over and said Alex could look at the puzzle - it belonged to Georgie’s older brother, Jeremy.  I thanked Becca and asked Alex to thank her too, which he did.”

“So, he dumps it out. Ok, so no surprise there.  But then he starts his sorting thing, and he’s holding up the pieces to the box in front of him and I’m kind of trying to block him, listening to the other parents.  And, he starts putting pieces together, making the border, and suddenly, one of the moms sees it and, like, gasps.  “OHMYGOD, Ben, he’s doing THAT puzzle?’  Then everyone starts looking.”

“We’re all always comparing notes:  What are the kids eating and not eating? What classes are they taking? Who’s looking at pre-schools?  It’s supportive, but everyone’s trying to make sure their kid is, you know, ‘on track.’”  

“Yeah,” Joe nodded, switching knives to cut up an apple. “My sister told me all about that.  It can get ugly.  Some parents brag, and parents whose kids are at a different stage try not to freak out. You can feel the anxiety bubbling up. Sometimes it’s just better to talk about politics, honestly.”  

Sighing, Joe plated the apple slices and spooned some peanut butter on the side of the plate.  Ben grabbed the plate and the water bottle. He slid off the stool to deliver it to Alex. Joe started to build the dish, sautéing peppers, carrots, onions and garlic.  After they softened, tomatoes, wine, stock and chicken would join the party.

Returning, Ben continued. “So, I just brushed it off. Talked about his older cousins teaching him, how he tries to copy them, you know, he just fools around and gets lucky.  Then it was time to leave.  He only did a little of the puzzle.  Jesus, it was like 50 pieces.  I said we had to clean it up.  He was all with the ‘no’s’, but finally I glared at him – I swear I almost lost it - but he relented.  I feel so out of control when this happens and not sure what to do.  And, Alex gets laser-focused and detaches. I had to tell him to say good-bye and thank you.  I could tell he was still thinking about that fucking puzzle as we were saying our goodbyes….”

Joe stopped chopping the basil and put his knife down, wiping his hands on a towel. He ran his fingers through his hair.  “He is who he is.  And we shouldn’t be too surprised about his laser-focus -- and his smarts -- knowing his two sets of genes,”  Joe said, with a wink, before continuing, “You handled it well, Babe. Really well.   You shouldn’t feel defensive.  We need to figure out how to deal with this.  Take him for the check-up… better late than never.”

Suddenly Alex came in holding the empty plate and bottle.  ‘Hey, Buddy,” Joe said.  “The chicken is almost done.  Want to finish it up?”  

Alex nodded. He went over to Joe who took the plate and bottle and put the stool in front of the stove, helping him up.  “OK,” Joe said, pointing to a pile of chopped greens on the cutting board.  Here we have some basil and parsley.”  Alex grabbed the greens and sprinkled them into the pot.  Joe handed Alex the wooden spoon and he stirred them in, as he planted a kiss on his son’s neck.

A week later they were in Premiere Pediatrics, and the medical assistant took Alex into a small room. Ben and Joe waited outside. She tested his vision, and they overheard her asking him about colors and numbers but they got into a discussion and didn’t pay attention.  

Suddenly, the assistant tore past them and approached the doctor down the hall, showing him the paper in her hand, as a nurse quickly escorted Alex and his parents to an exam room.  

Joe helped Alex undress and put on the robe.  He whipped out a book, Ocean Creatures, from his backpack. Alex settled into his lap and Joe started the story.  They got halfway through the book and in walked Dr. Herbert “Call Me Herb” Markman, holding a slim file in his left hand.  

Dr. Markman was there from the beginning.  Before the beginning. Ben and Joe had to have a local pediatrician vouch for their sincere interest to be parents and their stability.  And they had to show there was a doctor at the ready as soon as the baby arrived.  When Joe called the practice and asked for an experienced doctor, explaining the situation, the receptionist set up an appointment with Dr. Markman right away, noting he was the most senior member of the practice.  A Google search showed they hit the pediatrician lottery: degrees from Ivy League universities; a professor at the local Medical School; a successful researcher; and a former President of the American Society of Pediatrics.  As a person, he was warm, calm and conversational. As a doctor, he was thorough, smart and sensitive to both his young patients and their over-concerned parents. At their first meeting, Dr. Markman insisted they call him Herb, but Joe and Ben settled on Dr. M. To keep the relationship on an equal playing field, Dr. Markman followed the more formal naming convention.

“MR. JONES-MAZZELLO!” Dr. M. greeted Alex like a long-lost friend.  “So nice to see you!  You’re here for your 2-year check-up, I see. Let’s get you up on the bench. He patted it and helped Alex up.  Then he turned and offered a warm nod and outstretched hand, “Mr. Jones.  Mr. Mazzello.”   He placed Alex’s file on the desk.

Ben chimed in somewhat guiltily, “Actually, we missed the 2-month mark. He’s almost 2 and a half now.”

“No harm, no foul.” Dr. M. responded with a reassuring smile as he applied hand sanitizer.  

Dr. M. addressed his patient.  “Alex, are you having any concerns about your body, anything hurt?  Anything you want to ask?”

“No, thank you. I’m well, thanks.” Alex replied.

The three adults laughed. Ben beamed, proud at his politeness.  

“Good to hear.” Dr. M. commented. Turning to Joe and Ben, Dr. M. asked, “Any concerns? How’s he been?” Any more high fevers?”

“No, no fevers. Thankfully.” Joe said.

“He’s fine, seems good, really.” Ben added.

“Is he good, really or really good?” It was a play on words, a rhetorical question, but Dr. M. was on to something.   “Ok, let’s take a look.”

He examined Alex thoroughly, prodding his organs eliciting a stream of giggles. He checked his heart, ears, eyes, blood pressure, spine and reflexes, making notes on his I-pad as he went along.

“All good!” He said.

Dr. M. opened the file folder on the desk and pulled out the report the medical assistant handed him earlier. He went over to the shelf that held some books and games and pulled out 10 black checkers.  “As I put these down, Alex, can you count them for me?”  Alex counted 1 through 10 as the checkers were placed on the exam bench. Then, Dr. M. picked a few up and asked him the total number remaining on the bench. Then he put some back, asking for a total.  He did this a few more times, moving quickly.  Alex hesitated at times, thinking it through, but didn’t get flustered. Joe and Ben looked on with awe. Was he really adding and subtracting?  Dr. M. collected the checkers and put them aside on the bench.  

“What did you think of that?” He asked Alex.

“Fun!” Alex said.  

“Good to hear we have a satisfied customer.   We always try to provide patients with some fun during visits.” Dr. M. said, typing into his I-pad and winking at Joe and Ben, making it clear that round of ‘fun’ was not offered to most patients at their 2-year visits.

“So, what do you like to do, Alex?”  Dr. M. asked.

Alex thought for a minute and answered, “The library.  We take out lots of books.  I like ocean animals.  And gymnastics. I like to sommersault.  And parachute lift - some of us run into it, and we have to run back before it falls on us!” Alex smiled, sitting up straight, swinging his legs, picturing the activity.  

“Wow, that sounds really thrilling.”  Dr. M. said, giving Alex his full attention.

Alex nodded and then looked at the ceiling thinking about what else filled his days. “Puzzles!  I really like puzzles.”

Ben looked over at Joe encouragingly, wanting him to take the cue, as he twisted the band on his left ring finger with his thumb.  Joe looked up, rubbing his chin.  It was the perfect opening. “Uh, yeah, about puzzles. We should let Dr. M. know what happens sometimes.  Like at playgroup.”

Alex looked down, remembering how angry his dad was with him that day.

Ben continued.  “Remember at Georgie’s, you got the puzzle off the shelf and started doing it when there were lots of other toys out.  You can’t just go into someone’s stuff.”

“I was bored!” Alex said with a raised voice, annoyed that his dad didn’t understand.

Dr. M. nodded.  “It’s hard to feel bored, isn’t it?”

Alex nodded emphatically, and Dr. M. continued, “When you feel bored, Alex, it’s good to tell one of your dads, and together you can discuss what to do. Maybe you can ask for another toy.  But, sometimes, you may have to be bored.  Lord knows, I am more than I’d like!” he laughed, trying to lighten the tension, but came back to the point.  “Do you think you can talk about how you feel before acting?”

Alex nodded, looking at Ben, who gave him a smile.

“Good!” Dr. M. said. “Your dads can remind you.  So, what else happens in the Life of Alexander Jones-Mazzello?”

“I help Papa cook.” Alex smiled at the recent memory.

“Cooking is fun!  How do you help?” Dr. M. asked.

“Add basil and…pars and stir.” Alex said.

“Basil and Parsley,” Joe clarified, “My Italian influence.”

“I’m a big fan of Italian food!”  Dr. M. said.  He smiled, directing his next question to Ben and Joe. “Any other activities your fine young man is involved in?

“He just started music class!” Ben added enthusiastically. “I read about the strong association between math and music, so we thought it would be good…” his voice trailed off as he looked over at the doctor typing into his I-pad.

Call Me Herb looked summarily unimpressed, perhaps the most unimpressed he’d been in his 35-year career as a pediatrician.  Ben and Joe exchanged glances.

“Alex, you are well on your way to becoming a fine 3-year old.  One day, I’d like you to meet my friend, Wendy.  She’ll show you some other fun puzzles and games I think you’ll like.” Dr. M. said as he helped Alex dress.  Then Alex leaned over and grabbed the checkers and started to play with them. 

Dr. M. then spoke softly to Ben and Joe, “I’m going to give you the number of Wendy Chambers. She’s an educational psychologist. She’ll do her assessment and have some ideas.”  He wrote her name and number on his prescription pad. “Do it this year, before the pre-school search heats up. The information she provides will help,” he said in his gentle tone as he handed the slip to Ben, who looked down at it.

“Is…Did…Is what we’re doing not right?” Ben asked hesitantly in a whisper.

“You’re doing great.” Dr. M. reassured.  Sensing Ben’s concern, he walked over to him and Joe and said very softly.  “It just may not be enough. In the long run. He’s precious.  And,” he added, “Gifted. With all joys and challenges that come with it.  I’ll let Wendy know I’ve referred Alex; you’ll be in good hand with her. Let’s stay in touch.”

After a round of handshakes, Dr. M. departed to a chorus of thank you from the boys.  

As they left the doctor’s office, Ben mentioned they needed to pick up some groceries.   “We’ll meet you home, then?” He said to Joe, their eyes lingering expressing they were in this together, whatever ‘this’ turned out to be.  Ben bent down to zip Alex’s jacket, his knee resting on the sidewalk, and planted a kiss on his cheek.  “You were such a good patient with Dr. M.  Ready to go, Buddy?”  Alex smiled and nodded, leaning in to hug Ben, who welcomed the embrace.  As usual, Alex’s hug stopped Ben in his tracks, and he had to force himself to stand up and proceed, grasping Alex’s hand.

“Thanks for shopping.  See you guys at home,” Joe said.  As they peeled off in opposite directions, Joe suddenly felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out.  The area code was vaguely familiar but he didn’t recognize the number, and there was no name associated with it.  

“Hello, Joe Mazzello.” He answered, stopping.  Joe nodded slightly as the name was revealed.  

“Oh. Hi.”  He said, in acknowledgement, suppressing his surprise. The voice relayed information, and Joe juggled his phone, trying to shift gears quickly and process the unexpected information.

“Really?  Seriously? Wow. That’s…terrific. Have to say, wasn’t expecting it.  I mean…” his voice trailed off as more information was relayed.

“When will…?” He registered the response with a nod, his eyes darting side to side.

“Uh, OK! Sounds good….” His voice faded as he tried not to express any concern or hesitation, though logistical wheels were turning in his head, as they always did.  “Ok, uh, let me … can I give you a call tomorrow and we can discuss the details? This is…Great!  Thanks. Thanks for the call.  Take care…Talk tomorrow. Bye.”

Joe clicked off the phone, his eyes opened wide.  A surprised grin emerged while he shook his head.  If life, acting  – and parenthood – taught him anything, it’s you can’t always predict what’s around the corner.  Life doesn’t ask to ‘put time on your calendar’ or ‘is this convenient?’  You have to keep calm and make it work.  As he walked home, Joe started to strategize about how to do that with this surprising news.

[notquiteaghost]

there isn't enough nonbinary jon sims content, here is... well i started writing this as headcanons but this is really a not!fic about nonbinary jon sims. it’s 3′300 words

it contains: nonbinary trans masc autistic jon, jongeorgie, lesbian georgie, trans guy martin & tim, trans woman sasha, team archives trans solidarity, and not-insignificant amount of internalised transphobia and references to misgendering & general cis people bullshit

(also ftr i am heavily basing jon's experiences here as a nonbinary autistic person on my own experiences as a nonbinary autistic person) (this is like 80% projection) (what else is fandom for!)

also on AO3 if you prefer your 3k of bullet points to have better spacing

tiny baby [jon] who knows she isn't very good at being a girl but doesn't have the words to articulate why

her grandmother thinks kids clothes should be durable and practical so even tho jon is not a kid who climbs trees or plays football, her wardrobe is exclusively straight jeans & 'boys' t-shirts & large jumpers

she keeps her hair roughly shoulder length because that's the length it's always been but strangers still 'mistake' her for a boy a lot. this makes her feel a way she again hasn't got the words for

when she starts secondary school she continues to dress 'masc', never starts wearing makeup, never gets any interest in dating, generally fills out the checklist for everyone else assuming she's a lesbian

she knows she's definitely not a straight girl, so she shrugs and decides sure, she's a lesbian. it's a moot point, mostly, seeing as even if she did have any interest in dating she's the only gay person her age she knows

but she does get involved in some community support stuff – she spends a lot of time in the library as a teenager, and one of the librarians is a lesbian who takes jon under her wing a bit

coffee mornings and book clubs and things like that. sixteen year old jon and a dozen queer women all in their late twenties at the youngest. they joke a lot how often they forget jon isn't also a thirty-something

(this is that autism feel of having no interest in your peers but getting on great with adults)

and then she goes to uni, and then she meets georgie

georgie is a Very Out lesbian. she goes to clubs, she's heavily involved in the lgbt society, she has a rainbow flag hanging in her bedroom window. yknow.

jon likes her a lot, and still isn't really sure if it's romantic or not, but assumes that's more due to being gay than anything else

(no one has told jon about asexuality yet)

so when, one night when they're meant to be studying in georgie's room but instead are mostly drinking shit cheap wine and complaining about their professors, georgie looks at jon with this soft look on her face and asks to kiss her, jon says yes

and then they date

they're both living in one of those massive student houses with a thousand bedrooms crammed everywhere and only a kitchen for a communal space. georgie has lived there since coming back to finish first year, and jon moved in halfway through second year after a somewhat disastrous flatmate situation

so after they graduate, moving in together seems like the natural progression of things even tho they’ve only been dating for two months

jon is still, when asked, identifying as a lesbian and using she/her, but is also still dressing what other people now call butch. she always feels kind of weird about that term, but again, just chalks it up to the mess of complicated feelings being a gnc lesbian does genuinely involve

and then, finally, jon meets some actual trans people

jon has, circumstantially, known trans people. thanks to georgie, jon goes to a lot of lgbt soc things, and is passingly familiar with most of the lgbt people on their campus

but there’s a big difference between nodding at someone when you see them in the library and having an actual, proper conversation about gender

so, jon goes to a lot of social events because georgie does. without georgie, jon would probably not leave the house except to go to work and to the library (jon is not doing postgrad. jon’s library habits do not particularly reflect this)

mostly at these events, jon sits in the corner and reads, and only talks to other quiet antisocial people, while georgie circles back periodically to report on her social butterfly escapades

and at one, one of the other quiet antisocial people is a trans guy

he’s called harry, and he asks about the book jon is reading, and after they’ve been talking a while he says, “sorry, you probably get this a lot, but what pronouns do you use?”

jon just blinks at him and says “what”

“well, i’m trans, so i’m always really cautious about assuming,” harry says, easily, and this does not answer the question jon was asking

jon.exe has crashed

she(?) eventually says, “uh. she? i’ve never– she”

and harry, who has spent the last forty minutes discussing dante with jon and is already sure they’re going to be friends, says “want the trans 101? you’re making a face like you need it”

three hours later georgie finally reappears with the intent to actually interrupt (she’s drifted past periodically, but jon was always deep in conversation with harry, so she left them alone) and get going, and jon gets harry’s email address and is then very quiet as they walk arm-in-arm back to their house

just as they turn onto their street, jon says, “i, ah. i think i might be trans?”

georgie, who has for the past couple months been having something of a crisis after realising she definitely loves jon but she isn’t in love and she can’t figure out why, says “oh thank god”

jon, very bemused, “that wasn’t the reaction i was expecting”

“i think we should break up,” georgie replies, and jon stops walking. they’re four feet from their front door, but it’s late, no one’s about, so georgie decides sure, they can have this conversation in the street

“you– because i’m trans?”

“i love you, i really do,” georgie steps closer, takes jon’s hands in hers, “but i’m not in love with you. and it was driving me crazy trying to figure out why, but if you’re not a girl–”

“i can’t tell if i should be offended by this or not,” jon says, somewhat dazed, “i’ve been trans for an hour, georgie, i don’t know if this is transphobic yet”

georgie laughs, and presses a kiss to jon’s cheek, and says “it’s nearly midnight, we both have work tomorrow, let’s table this for later. we can look up names and what word i should use when i complain to other people how you always leave your shoes in the middle of the floor when we aren’t both on the verge of passing out”

and that sounds reasonable, so jon nods, and kisses georgie on the mouth, and then they go inside

the next day jon stops by the library on the way home from work and checks out almost every baby names book they have. georgie comes home and he’s sat at the kitchen table making a spreadsheet

“you don’t have to make it this complicated, you know,” she says, hooking her chin over his shoulder to read what he’s already got. the spreadsheet has a lot of columns.

“it’s my name,” he retorts, and she hums agreeably, then points to ‘jonathan’, which has relatively few ticks in any pro columns (god, this nerd), and says, “isn’t that your grandfather’s name?”

it is. he doesn’t talk about his grandfather a lot – doesn’t talk about his family a lot full stop, but she knows, even though he died when jon was still a toddler, the stories his grandmother told had a significant impact

“my parents didn’t name me after anyone,” jon says, quietly

georgie nods. she doesn’t say they’re not here now to offer an opinion, because that’s far harsher than jon deserves to hear, and it’s not like she ever needs to remind him of it either. he’s definitely already beating himself up for taking so long to come to this realisation there’s no one left around to tell him how they’d have reacted

“i think it suits you,” she says instead, and jon nods, and then she moves away to make a pot of tea and some pasta (it’s technically jon’s night to cook, but she was anticipating coming home to find him already hyperfocused beyond the point of no return)

a week later, jon looks up from the spreadsheet to where georgie is curled up on the sofa reading and says “ugh, fine, you win, you were right”

(georgie hadn’t pressed her point any further, jon is just like that)

“jon?” she asks, and he makes an exasperated noise and nods, then closes his laptop dramatically and stands. most of his spine pops when he stretches

“this calls for celebration” georgie says, also standing, “franco’s or monsoon?”

“franco’s. i’m going to eat a pizza the size of a car”

so then jon is actually going by jon, and using he/him, and isn’t dating georgie anymore but is still living with her and spending most of his time with her and factoring her into all his major decisions

he talks to harry, and other (binary) trans people, and reads a lot of blogs, and after a few months gets a referral to charing cross gic

by the time he starts at the magnus institute, he’s had top surgery and has been on T for years, and passes as cis completely, and he doesn’t know how to articulate it but this is. bothering him.

he’s not exactly… he likes being stealth, he doesn’t need to flaunt his personal life. he can understand the impulse, but he doesn’t share it. his feelings about gender and romance are no one’s business but his own

but. everyone assuming he was a girl itched – being miss simms, georgie’s girlfriend, she, it felt like wearing a coarse knitted jumper. it was exhausting

and, for a while, everyone assuming he was a man was a relief. it didn’t make his skin crawl, it didn’t make him want to scream, it was nice. it felt good.

it didn’t feel right. but it didn’t feel bad, either, and jon has never been gendered in a way that felt right. he thought that was just part of being trans

except. he moves to london, and he starts at the magnus institute, and he wears shirts and slacks, and the long skirts and patterned dresses some of his colleagues wear keep catching his eye the way men in three-piece suits used to, and that terrifies him

he was lucky, in a way, having no family left to care when he transitioned – if anyone reacted negatively, he could just cut them out of his life, and his social circle was already queer enough that was hardly necessary

but that doesn’t mean he escaped internalising a whole swathe of shit about what being trans should mean and how he should act and what he should want and if he wants to wear skirts then is he even a man? was he making it up all along after all?

naturally, he deals with this by ignoring it. he’s a man, men don’t wear skirts, he doesn’t wear skirts, that’s that.

he manages to keep that up until he’s made head archivist, and he’s given three assistants who are all also trans

(he doesn’t know if elias did it on purpose. elias knows he’s trans, of course, because he’s never bothered to get the name on his diploma changed, but the way elias reacted lead jon to assume elias may also be trans. and if that’s true, then selecting only trans people for the archives staff feels like a kindness more than anything)

and, the thing about them all being trans, is even if jon and martin are both rather fond of being stealth, and sasha and tim aren’t used to being out at work, and none of them are exactly friends, they’re the only people who ever come in the archives, so the archives very quickly becomes the Safe Trans Zone

they all vent a lot about cis people. sasha will walk in and the first words out her mouth will be “the next person to ask me if i’d had the surgery is getting their own surgery when i cut their tongues out”, and tim will make a commiserating noise and offer her the pack of donuts martin brought in

so when, on one of the rare afternoons when jon leaves his office to lean against tim’s desk and brainstorm organisational system ideas, martin walks back from the break room upstairs with a scowl and says, bitterly, as he sits back down, “oh so when cis guys wear nail polish it’s inspiring and breaking down gender roles but when i wear nail polish, jenny from HR gets to side eye me and ask if that means i changed my mind, because surely i’m the one who’ll do that and not all the men who didn’t have to do hours of therapy to establish they are definitely, one hundred percent for sure a guy!”

tim and sasha both make the standard commiseration noises, and sasha says something about the supervisor at her last job trying to say it wasn’t appropriate for her to wear trousers, and jon stops listening and runs away moves back to his office

he hadn’t noticed martin is wearing nail polish, is the thing. or, he had noticed it, but he hadn’t thought about it, and now he’s thinking about it. he’s thinking about it a lot

martin had– martin is a guy. martin is definitely a guy, if something of a feminine-leaning gay guy, the kind of feminine-leaning no one ever questions in cis guys, and it hadn’t occurred to jon to question martin, either, even though he’s trans, and. and.

he’s still circling round a revelation he can’t quite make himself have an hour or so later, when martin sticks his head round the door

“you, uh. you alright?” martin asks, incredibly tentatively. it says a lot, jon thinks, about how nice martin is, that he’s asking even though there’s a 90% chance jon will tell him to fuck off “you kind of disappeared abruptly, earlier. i didn’t upset you, did i?”

jon stares at him for a long moment, then says, “can i see your nail polish?”

“oh!” martin’s cheeks flush, just slightly, as he steps inside the office and lets the door shut behind him “uh, yeah, of course. it’s a little chipped, now, but, yeah”

martin’s nail polish is a light, pastel blue. it’s neat, and even, though his nails aren’t that long, and jon thinks he remembers martin saying something about mostly painting his nails to try and get himself to stop biting them. jon’s never really gone for nail polish, but it’s. nice.

“it’s, uh. it’s a good colour, on you,” he says awkwardly. martin flushes even more

“oh, um, thanks? did– are you alright?”

if jon was a different kind of person, this is where he’d open up to martin, and this would be the beginning of them becoming actual friends

jon is jon, though, so he just shoves all his emotions back in the box they escaped from, nods, and says “i didn’t sleep that well, is all. not really up to socialising”

(an aside about s1 jonmartin dynamic: jon is very good at shittalking martin when martin isn’t around, but in the face of martin’s genuine care and concern, he defaults back to a far more friendlier tone than he’s aiming for. he knows, on a level, that he and martin could be good friends if he ever got his shit together, but that is something else he’s currently repressing. he doesn’t need friends! he isn’t desperate for social contact at all! what’s loneliness!)

martin says “ah, okay, i’ll just– i’ll leave you alone, then”, and then jon makes himself focus on work, and then when he gets home he opens the group chat he’s still, thankfully, in with the trans people who got him through his first gender crisis and sends ‘help i don’t know if i’m a guy after all’

three people immediately send back a link to nonbinary.org

and that’s the rest of jon’s evening

he reads through every article. he reads several articles multiple times. he opens several new tabs, and gets a notepad to make a list of books, and eventually remembers to reply in the group chat

a week later, he bites the bullet and writes an email to georgie

nothing long, just, they still tell each other about big life events

and then, another couple weeks after that, when martin brings him tea, he says, “ah, martin, could i– do you have a moment?”

“of course,” martin says, and lets the door swing closed again, “what do you need?”

“i, ah. this isn’t very professional, so, you don’t– you are perfectly welcome to say no, of course, but i. um. would you– come clothes shopping with me?”

(ideally, jon would have asked georgie, but as much as he loves her (still), they haven’t talked properly in years, and she is cis. the best cis person he knows, but still a cis person. and he’d just, rather have a trans person, for emotional support, and no one in the group chat lives particularly nearby anymore) (or, well, some of them are, but when he asked they all told him to get over himself and ask one of his ‘lovely’ coworkers)

(why does he ask martin and not sasha?) (well, dear reader, he is nursing the beginnings of a crush) (not that he knows it. but that’s absolutely what’s happening here. martin is sweet and lovely and jon definitely finds him annoying and overbearing. yes. nothing else. no other emotions.) (his chest feels all weird when martin smiles because he doesn’t like him. that always happens around people he dislikes.)

“oh!” martin says, surprised. “uh, yes, of course, is– is there an event or something…?”

jon takes a moment to stare at the wall above martin’s head before he makes himself say, “i. am non-binary, and i need– different clothes.”

“oh, god, have we been–”

“no, no, this is a, a very recent development. he is still fine,” jon says, quickly, then pauses, then adds, more haltingly, “i think. i might, if – they, as well, maybe? just, to see”

“of course. d’you want me to tell tim and sasha?”

martin, jon thinks, is maybe not all that bad “yes, please”

“cool,” martin smiles, “i’m free this weekend? for shopping?”

“this saturday would be good, yes”

and then jon and martin go shopping! it’s probably not that successful of a shopping trip, because it takes jon like four shops before they admit what exactly it is they’re looking for, but they go to several charity shops and have fun trying to one-up each other with the most ridiculous/inexplicable item of clothing, and at the end of the day jon has three skirts (a knee-length black a-line skirt, a full-length black skirt, and a full-length black skirt patterned with red flowers), two necklaces, and a skater dress they probably can’t get away with wearing to work, but they really liked the way the skirt moved when they spun

other things that happen include lunch at a cafe where the staff definitely think they’re on a date and only martin notices and also martin is dying, both of them only managing to walk past a secondhand bookshop twice before they cave and go inside, and then emerge half an hour later both holding three books (two poetry anthologies and a sci fi novel; a psychology book and two history books), and martin somehow talking jon into trying on skinny jeans and then, again, leaving this mortal coil

jon doesn’t buy the skinny jeans, which is for the best really

the first time jon wears one of the skirts to work, sasha does a victory lap around the archives because “hell yes skirts are so much more comfortable, and now you swish! tim you should get a skirt. skirts for archives uniform”

and jon is still a prickly antisocial bastard but now he’s an outly nonbinary prickly antisocial bastard, and sometimes they walk into the archives at 2PM smelling of tobacco and holding a bottle of vodka, and then the archives staff all do shots and dramatic readings of the most ridiculous fake statements, because sometimes that’s how you cope with cis people, and that’s! valid!

[taurnachardhin]

frustrating family feelings rant below:

My mom.....she's been "supportive" of me ever since I came out as bi to her a few years ago, but she and my dad are pretty progressive politically so it's not like I grew up in a household where I was raised to believe homosexuality was a sin or anything like that. Both of my parents have close gay friends. But my mom did raise me very heteronormatively where I was taught that it was ok for other people to be queer but never presented it as an option for me personally. (In spite of the fact that I didn't date at all until I was 25, and was a very tomboyish child who went through a whole cargo shorts phase in high school, like mom, did you not see this coming?) But in spite of the signs, I think my mom was kind of in denial about it the same way she definitely should have realized I also had depression and ADHD as a kid but just didn't want to see it because she comes from this very conventional middle class, keeping-up-appearances kind of background where she didn't want there to be anything wrong or weird about me because she doesn't want me to get hurt, but also because I think deep down she's afraid it will reflect poorly on her. For a long while after I came out to her, it felt like she would only voluntarily bring up queer stuff if it was something that was bad news, like that's always what caught her attention, and she'd tell me about a study that worried her that said LGBT youth are more likely to smoke (as if I, who watched 3/4 grandparents die of lung disease, could even be paid to touch a cigarette), or after the Pulse shooting she told me she hoped I wasn't going to any Pride events and that I would be careful, and like I get it, she's doing the mom-catastrophizing thing where all she sees is danger, but it really hurt me because I've been lucky enough to never face any direct discrimination for my orientation and honestly when I finally started owning the truth of my bi-ness five years ago, it was kind of the one good thing happening in my life. But it felt like my mom would never see it as something good for me.

She got better at it eventually and started sharing more positive stuff, and when I actually had a girlfriend for a hot second last year, she was genuinely excited about it. But never fully got over this attitude that it was all something to be fearful about. Like this was a while earlier, but a very typical example of the kinds of things she says: after The Force Awakens came out back in 2015, I was home for Christmas and chatting about it with my parents, and my mom said something about how she wished they hadn't made Finn and Rey a romantic pairing and I (somewhat joking, but also not really) said, "I mean, did they? I honestly thought Finn had a more romantic storyline with Poe." And my mom just immediately said, "Well. THAT'S not something we can discuss when my family's here tomorrow," as if that had any relevance to the conversation. And I was just thinking like, what the hell do you think would happen if we did? My grandmother and stepgrandfather had just been to see Fun Home on Broadway. My aunt's best friend is a gay guy. My uncle is the most religiously conservative of the group and he might be a little more uptight, but again, his wife's best friend is gay so it can't bother him THAT much. Like yes, my mom's side of the family are mostly Republicans, but they're not the kind who are going to disown you for having a bi daughter who thinks two fictional men should kiss. What are you so afraid of? And if you're telling me not to talk about queer stuff in front of your family just because it might ruffle your brother-in-law's feathers, how am I supposed to take that, that you wouldn't be on my side if it happened? It's just little stuff like that that comes through sometimes, in these moments of panic she gets.

Today, (she's a kindergarten teacher) she told me that she wanted my "opinion" on how she'd handled an argument two of her students were having. A boy and a girl came up to her and the girl said, "Girls can marry girls and boys can marry boys, my parents said so." And the boy countered that HIS parents said they couldn't, and they wanted to know who was right. And she was like, "I always worry in situations like this that I might make the parents mad if it gets back to them, so I just told them they were way too young to be thinking about marriage and changed the subject." And I was very calm and gentle about how I answered, but I was like, "Mom. Girls can in fact marry girls now. It's legal. It's ok for you to tell them the girl was right, because it's the truth. They weren't asking you a moral question, they were asking you a factual one. You couldn't possibly have gotten in trouble for answering it accurately." And she was like, "Oh, I guess you're right. That was just what came to me in my panic." And like yeah, clearly. But then I also told her it seemed a bit disingenuous to tell them they weren't supposed to think about marriage, because of course little kids think about marriage! It's a totally normal part of human lives they can see all around them and are naturally curious about. They're also interested in like, jobs, but we never tell kids they aren't supposed to think about what they want to do when they're grown up just because it's not a decision they're actually ready to make. And I didn't even bring this up, though I wish I'd thought to, but when I was in kindergarten, my best friend was a boy, and he and I would talk about how we were going to get married when we grew up. And my mom, of course! thought THAT was adorable and she still tells that story all the time. Damn hypocrite. 

I'm glad I helped her realize she didn't maybe say the right thing, and I guess I appreciate that she does at least ask me about this stuff because it shows she's trying to learn, but every time it throws me into a funk over it, because it's just like a reminder that she still views my orientation not just as a problem, but a problem for HER. She doesn't want anyone to be angry at her for expressing a controversial opinion. She doesn't want to lose her job for publicly expressing support for gay marriage, as if that's a thing that would even happen to a straight, white, married suburban woman in 2019. And I just wanna be like, mom, what the hell do you plan to do if I do, in fact, marry a girl, as is my legal right? Will you lie to your coworkers and students? Will you give me dire warnings that some of my relatives might not want to come to the wedding? That part in Nanette where she talks about what happens when you soak one child in shame and give permission to another to hate....I wish I could make her see that that's what she's doing every time she "changes the subject." But I also understand that like Hannah Gadsby's mom, mine just wanted me to change because she knew the world wouldn't. But that's the thing though, right? Is the world did change. Not enough, not yet, but public opinion on gay issues is very very different now than it was when I was a child. I wish my mom could see that, and I wish she could see how much it hurts me that she doesn't. I'd love to tell her to watch Nanette, but I know it'll just make her feel bad, and then she'll still be making it about her feelings. And then the only part she'll actually remember is all the bad things that happened to Hannah and she'll take away that she's right to be afraid for me and it'll probably just make everything worse.

You know who did watch Nanette? My dad. I told him he should watch it after he went through a whole Netflix comedy specials phase, and he did and he loved it. During the 2018 election, he canvassed for a political candidate for the first time in his life, a Democrat running for the state house, and when he knocked on doors in their neighborhood, he told all his Republican neighbors that he had LGBT people in his family and among his students (he's also a teacher), and that he was afraid for us if Kemp won the governor's race and Republicans kept control of the state house, because Kemp had promised to sign an anti-LGBT "religious freedom" bill. See, my dad is also afraid for me. But he takes his fear and feeds it courage, while my mom just feeds it with more fear.

I know I’m very fortunate that this is the extent of the conflict I have with my parents over my orientation. My ex’s mom evidently was really upset when she came out to her, but later got over it and now they’re those “my mom is actually my best friend!” kind of people (lord, what’s that like??), and when she told me that, it made me feel petty for resenting my mom’s occasional well-meaning microaggressions, when she could overlook her mom reacting so much worse. But like, pain is pain, I guess. I do forgive my mom for her ignorance and fear, largely because I know that her denial about me and my mental health issues is nothing compared to her own denial of her own anxiety, so I appreciate that this is tough for her in ways she can’t entirely control. And I know I really need to actually tell my mom how I feel about all this at some point instead of just ranting into the tumblr void, and I keep trying to compose that speech in a way that will make her actually listen and not just get all mad and resentful the way she sometimes does when I confront her about something. But for now it’s just tumblr rant, so here we are. Thanks for listening, yikes.

[canaryatlaw]

well today was good but now I’m in a really shitty headspace so idk how much I’ll be talking about it, might just get my general feelings out there. I woke up at 9 and got ready for pride, met up with Jess and walked to the train, took it to the stop where the parade begins, walked down a bit until we found a spot we liked. chilled out for a bit waiting for it to start, it did get to us not long after the start. the front had our “grand marshall” who is Chicago’s new mayor, Lori Lightfoot, who happens to be a black lesbian which is so fucking awesome, so it was definitely fitting for her to be picked. The governor of IL was here too, he was here last year but he was still a candidate at this point. there were plenty of other groups supporting politicians, congresspeople and judges and all that sort of stuff. I have to say with political groups like that I’ll give them a hell of a lot more credit if they’re actually there themselves, not just sending their groupies. Of course for the lower people who aren’t recognizable they could be there and have us not realize it, but I feel like if they were they’d at least try to make that obvious. We also had at least two presidential campaign groups, the first was Pete Buttigieg, who I was kinda disappointed wasn’t there since the city he’s the mayor of is actually pretty close to Chicago, but I guess he’s probably somewhere on the campaign circuit. the second was from Kamala Harris, which was cool that she at least made a showing being that she doesn’t really have a connection to Chicago being from Cali, so it was cool to see the effort be put in there at least. I think I cried less than I did last year, but still cried a lot lol. A lot of it was just seeing kids with trans pride flags marching with their parents and seeing the smiles on their faces that just radiate joy, that was just so incredibly moving and heartening to see. I also cried when the group of churches comes through for obvious reasons, they had signs and were handing out papers with the phrase “God is proud of you” no matter who you are or what you’ve done, which I liked a lot. most of the rest of it was either different organizations which was cool to see, and then of course companies. I will say this though, as much as it’s clear that many companies are playing into gay pride to get them more business, I think there’s something to be said for them making a conscious choice to be here and risk pissing off a hella lot of other people by making that choice- even though they’re still looking to make money, they chose this side, not the other one. not saying we need to blindly support all of them or anything like that, but I guess I see it as a heartening sign of the times, that more and more companies each year are shifting over to this side and embracing the LGBT community when they very easily could’ve made the choice not to do so and not risk losing some of their customers. that’s my two cents on it anyway. A little over an hour into the parade we noticed that there were some rapidly approaching storm clouds that looked more than a little ominous, and once it became clear that rain was inevitable a lot of people started leaving, and we weighed our options for a minute before deciding splitting was the best choice, especially because the rain we’ve had for the last like two weeks has been the type of a very sudden downpour, and it was coming very quickly. So we started walking in the direction of the train through a neighborhood rather than trying to walk back up the parade route and have to maneuver our way through tons of people. going to the train directly would just leave us eventually in the rain, so we decided to duck into the first restaurant we saw. once we reached the main stretch of road where there were businesses we spotted an italian place and got inside just in time, for both the rain that started downpouring very soon after we made it in, and for the large group of people who also sought refuge in the restaurant that did not have enough tables for all of them. It was only like 2:30 at this point and they were serving brunch till 3, so I ended up getting french toast because none of the pasta options sounded particularly appetizing to me, and I am picky with my pasta (it’s called having taste, thank you very much) and the french toast was very good. I also inhaled like 3 glasses of coke in record time, in the time between the waiter bringing us our drinks and coming back to take our food order I had already finished the first one, lol. More than a little dehydrated for sure. It wasn’t too too hot thankfully, but there was still plenty of sweating and such. I managed to avoid most sunburn with an attempt to be very thorough in applying sunscreen, but I did manage to miss my nose entirely, so now that’s just bright red while the rest of my face is fine lol, and I got a little burned on like, the sides of my arm since they were facing up during the parade. but I can live with that. so once we finished the restaurant was still more than a little crowded with people waiting for tables. iit hadn’t stopped raining yet but we felt kinda guilty hogging a table while people were waiting, so we decided to just uber home rather than walk in the rain. so we tried for an uber......and tried for an uber.....like 3 or 4 times and it just was not working for us since there were so many fucking people trying to get ubers and a lot of streets were blocked off, so after like 15 minutes of unsuccessfully trying to get one we just said fuck it and walked to the train, which wasn’t all that far away thankfully. we took that north to the closest stop to us, away from the main crowd and street closures, and then ubered home from the train station rather than walking for 20 minutes in the rain. Upon getting home I laid on my bed being lazy looking at my phone for a bit and then got in the shower, mostly because I wanted to get the sunscreen off because it felt kinda greasy and I didn’t like that. once I showered I grabbed my computer and sat down on the couch, started watching some Anthony Bourdain, who continues to have been an excellent human being, this time with an episode set in West Virginia that went so far beyond their food and really demonstrating so much empathy and a sincere effort to get others to understand the struggles going on there and very much humanizing them, rather than rabid Trump supporters who never do anything with their lives. I couldn’t help but think, god, he was so good. he had so much empathy for people and worked so hard to use his position to help people from all over the world live better lives and enlighten so many others to not only the unique struggles they’re facing, but also the joy in their lives and the treasures of their culture, it’s about so much more than the food, it’s about the people and their lives and what impact they’re going to have on the world, and how the viewer can help people in these situations, even if it’s as simple as changing your perspective on something. to take a show that was supposed to revolve around food and making it into so much more was such an incredible undertaking that is so obvious was his true passion. the desire he had to help people was so immense. the more I watch these episodes the sadder I become that he’s no longer with us, especially to lose him the way we did. all I can say is it’s definitely a reminder to check in on your “good” friends that you think have it all together and are always looking to help others, because sometimes they end up being the ones who are the loneliest. anyway. I eventually stopped to get some dinner and there was still a bunch of corn in the fridge from the bbq my roomie had with her parents last week wrapped in tin foil, so I grabbed one of those and stuck it in the microwave, momentarily forgetting you’re not supposed to put tin foil in the microwave.....nothing actually happened for the first minute, but when it started the second like ten seconds in there were sparks. at first I thought I like, blew up the microwave, so it just being me being an idiot and putting tin foil in the microwave was actually quite a relief, since I don’t particularly want to have to get a new microwave right now. when I went back to the tv I decided to finally start season 3 of Jessica Jones, and got through the first two episodes. now, some background- I LOVED season 1, liked loved loved loved it watched it all the way through like 4 times back to back because I wasn’t ready to let go of it (damn netflix and their 13 episode seasons). but I was majorly disappointed in season 2, and the pre-season 3 recap made me realize I had actually forgotten a LOT about season 3, like the entire plot with her mom and everything that went along with that, lol. but I liked the first two episodes, so I guess we’ll see where we go from there. Once I finished that I started getting ready for bed and wasted time on my computer of course and now I’m here and it’s past 1 am, I would like to be somewhat productive tomorrow, especially since my boss emailed me back saying he’d give me a new case tomorrow, so I need to try to accomplish the tasks of doing the dishes/cleaning the mess that is my kitchen right now and actually switching over to summer clothes, so on those notes I’m going to bed now. Goodnight friends. Hope your Monday doesn’t suck.

[unwriter-sc]

So I was doing some writing.

Pre-warning, there might be some triggers concerning parental abuse in this one.

London was raised by her uncle, Maxwell Skye, instead of her parents for the majority of her life. There was a list of reasons that she had come up with in her head, but until she received the answer from her uncle, she was not going to settle on a reason.

 Of course, it would be remiss of her to not describe her wonderful uncle. He was a man of many talents but could easily be explained in a few words: religious stalker. London was sure that it wasn't his fault, the man had grown up during The Troubles, which was enough to screw with the average person's psyche. Though what Maxwell did, aside from casually break his niece's privacy and check up on her every five minutes, was preaching at a church. He was known for being a tough, no-nonsense sort of guy.

 As London stepped through the threshold of her uncle's house, she had found him in the middle of preparing a speech in his notebook, which was a dirty beat up leather journal that honestly looked like a crazy person's manifesto, then the book of a respected person. The only acknowledgement of her presence that her uncle gave her was tilting his head upwards and stopping his writing. London closed the door behind her and gripped the strap of her backpack with tense knuckles, it wouldn't be the first time she was going to have to forego dinner to avoid his wrath (especially if he was in a bad mood).

 "I'm back from Victoria's place," London said, knowing that he would probably interrupt her if she spoke for much longer.

 "I can tell." He said, "And you are ten minutes early." He added without even looking at his watch or a phone. "Could you please tell me what you were doing at Victoria's house?" He asked with a tone that was more suited towards a command. However, he was using manners, so he was in a good mood.

 London walked up to get in front of her uncle, as he wanted her to do when talking to him. "I was doing much of nothing, just hanging out with friends, we watched a show on her laptop, and that was it." She answered, only telling a half-truth. However, there was no knowing how sour his mood would be at hearing about the agreement that was reached between the two girls.

 Maxwell studies his niece's face, schooled into a neutral expression, looking for any sign of deception, "You're not telling the full truth." He says. "We both know that is a sin."

 "We also talked a while, about life in general," London said, still omitting the truth. "The standard things that you do with your friends." though it was closer to the truth than her previous statement.

 If Maxwell thought that she was lying, he certainly didn't say anything,  though there was his look of slight doubt. He dismissed her with a wave, and it seemed that he was satisfied.

 After a somewhat tense dinner with her cousins and he uncle. During which, he wouldn't stop staring at her. The only good part of the meal was her cousin, Jessica, who is a goddess of cooking.

 About half an hour after dinner, London was in her room, the first thing she did was check for her diary, which was still in its hiding spot, thankfully her uncle had fallen for one of the dummy diaries that she had lying around. She could always tell because he wasn't the most subtle person.

 The second thing she did was lock her door and put a chair underneath it just to be safe. She then put down her bag on her desk and emptied out her bag to keep a small supply of food in her room if she didn't get dinner on a later date.

 The food was stored in a smaller ripped bag that she used to use before the straps broke off, while Maxwell believed that she had got rid of it, London was making sure of her eating at a later date.

 London wondered exactly what constituted abuse, she knew that her uncle didn't hit her, but she was sure that the invading the privacy and the occasional denying of food wasn't exactly the things that caring guardians did. Sighing, London instinctively went for her laptop, but then remembered that her uncle took it away from her for a while as punishment for her looking up 'sinful subjects'.

 London then reached into her pockets and pulled out her phone, typing into the search bar 'how to tell if you are being abused by your parents' with lightning quick speed.

 Opening up the first result that was not an add brought her attention to an article about it, listing various signs that the parent is abusive. One stuck out quite well "The Parent Isolates The Child" she mumbled to herself as she read it.

 Well considering the fact that she's had her laptop taken away from her for looking up stuff that might be considered unacceptable and the fact that he requires status updates as to where she is, she guesses she could consider it as abuse, in a way.

 That actually made her pause, she wondered if she was just exaggerating, while her uncle wasn't the best for her, he was still trying to raise her, and she supposed that he still thought of her as a little girl who needed to be protected from the world's evils.

 "It could be worse" she murmured to herself as she exited off the website on her phone, at least he didn't beat her. He at least trusted her enough to allow her a smartphone, even if he did periodically check up on her and he even allowed her to have a laptop, though Maxwell did take it away and monitored her internet usage.

 London sat down on her bed as she thought about it, her uncle was kind enough to put a roof over her head and give her technology, but on the other hand, he monitored her and what she read in an attempt to shelter her. Could she really call it abuse when he had her best intentions at heart? Was it even abuse, London could just be misreading the entire situation.

 There was a knock at her door, which was enough to prompt London to remove the chair, she knew that Maxwell wasn't the type to knock, which narrowed down the list of potential suspects to be Jessica. Opening the door confirmed her guess, revealing the rather mild-mannered form of her cousin, who still had her blonde hair in a ponytail.

 "Hey, cos, do you mind if I come in?" She asked, London was always taken aback when someone asked before doing something, she was expected to do that, but her uncle was not the type who did that.

 "Of course, make yourself at home," London responded, internally wincing at her words, of course, she would make herself at home, she lived here. Jessica sat down gracefully on the chair that was moved off to the side, which left London to sit down on the bed.

 "Is there something wrong?" Jessica asked, clearly not wanting to mince words. She looked at London intensely, and London wasn't sure if her cousin was on her side or not.

 "Nothing's wrong." London responded, trying to dismiss it. Though when she saw Jessica's face harden and her lips form into a frown, London knew that she had said the wrong thing.

 Jessica made a non-committal hum "An absence of things being wrong doesn't make the atmosphere at home that tense." She said, "There is something wrong."

 London racked her mind to think of something that she could say, something that she could use to deflect the issue away from the single question that was gnawing at her, well the several burning questions, but it was close enough. "I was wondering why exactly uncle feels the need to monitor our internet usage, I mean it's not like reading about something will make me do it."

 Jessica looked mildly concerned at that "I know what you mean, he is a bit ..." she paused, looking for the right word, "overly protective. Though I can see why he does that, I mean there are a lot of odd things on the internet. Neopagans are one example I can think of." She added. "Another would be those weird weeby types." she muttered something under her breath.

 "Though I think that he can sometimes be a little bit too protective." London responded, "I was researching some things about the LGBT community to reach out to them, but he took my laptop away because it was sinful." Admittedly, that was a bald-faced lie, she was researching it because she was trying to figure out what she was exactly, but her cousin would only have to know that after a while. London needed to take care of one more thing, "One thing, could you not tell uncle about this? Please?"

 Jessica looked somewhat confused at that "What'd you mean?"

 "Well, after I told you that Matthew was gay I wasn't allowed to talk to him." London explained, Matthew was one of Vitoria's friends and made for fascinating conversation, but since he was gay, London wasn't allowed to interact with him.

 "I didn't tell uncle about that." Jessica said, her voice slow as she processed the implications "Did father eavesdrop on us?"

 "He may very well have." London responded. She mentally added another thing to her worryingly long list of 'things that she needs to consider about Maxwell.'

[orenbeval-blog]

Rosie Watson’s Diary 30/01/2030 - part 1

Well. I am 13 now. I am almost an adult, I KNOW what I want, I am BIG enough to make my OWN decisions, regardless of what Daddy is implying, like… every day. He has no idea, he is sooo old. And sooo out of fashion. Anyway, what was I saying ?

Ah yes. Decisions.

So, yesterday, I made two major decisions :

1)      I will no longer sleep with Mrs Honeybee. This does not suit for an almost adult woman with responsibilities. She will have, from now on, to seat on the shelf. I am big enough, I don’t need to sleep with a stuffed Bumblebee missing an antenna and an eye.

2)      I want to officially be recognized as William Sherlock Scott Holmes’ daughter. I mean… He has been my Daddy’s husband for like 5 years now, and I don’t even remember a time where he was not part of my… of our family. Sherlock and Daddy are my parents, period. Even if that makes me the official niece of that strange and creepy Mycroft dude. I don’t care. It has been 13 years. Long enough to make things official and unbreakable.

Actually I wanted this to be done yesterday, you know, the 29th of January. This is a VERY special day in our family. Has always been, will ever be, I guess. I hope so. Therefore I had prepared everything and put all the papers on the kitchen table. I had even done the dishes, done my housework, everything was PERFECT. However, they came home from Angelo’s waaaay to… busy (and drunk)… to notice anything and went (almost) straight to bed (I don’t think they brushed their teeth… I might talk about this to Daddy, next time he pisses me off with bloody tooth brushing)… However, I wasn’t sleeping, OF COURSE NOT. I wanted to SEE their reaction, be part of their happiness. I was sitting on top of the stairs (yes, with Mrs Honeybee), peering through the ramp bars and… well, all I got to see was… irk, I honestly didn’t think that old people (like over 45) could actually kiss that intense. I did not stay to watch more. I mean… irk. I went to bed. Quite disappointed. ANYWAY, the papers were still on the table this morning. And of course, as I was sleeping, I missed the whole “Daddy and Sherlock finding the papers” part. But this allowed me to play it cool. I LOVE playing it cool because this annoys Daddy sooooo much. I could act like… it was nothing. Like I did not spend the last 3 months with Molly reading countless internet pages, calling countless clerks and running from one office to another, even going to some special “LGBT parenting support organizations” to get the right information and the rights papers. I wanted this to be PERFECT, so I made sure it would be. And it was. I said so : I am an almost adult, I am a responsible woman.

So, I was still sleeping when Daddy went up to wake me up. He usually slams the door open, turns the lights on, shouts me to wake up and goes straight to the window to open it. And he usually keeps shouting from downstairs while preparing breakfast till I go down. It’s our morning routine. (I wonder if as an almost grown woman, I should maybe use an alarm clock ?) Anyway, this morning, he did not slam the door open, he did not shout and did not go to the window. He gentle sat on my bed and stroke my cheek until I opened my eyes.

“Morning sunshine, my little darling.”

I wanted to tell something about “almost grown up and responsible therefore NOT LITTLE” but then I noticed that he had wet eyes. Had he cried ? Woaow… last time I had seen him cry… it was like on his wedding with… well with Sherlock, my to-be-official second Dad.

“Rosie, my love… I am not good at such things, you know that… words are a difficult matter for me… I…”

And he only hugged me and muttered “thank you”. But I know my Daddy and I felt all the love and the gratitude and the happiness in that very tight, very special hug. I almost cried myself. Well… One or two tears do not count as crying, does it ?

Anyway, he ended the hug and said something about school and hurrying up and breakfast and to be careful with Sherlock this morning because…

Well yes, as I went down the stairs like playing Ice Queen, I understood it better: Sherlock was sitting at the kitchen table, wearing his usual dark green dressing gown over his smooth black pajama, his microscope and stuff put aside, my papers in his hands and he was like… frozen. Only moving things about him (beneath slight breathing, maybe) were his eyelids. Puzzling. Daddy gently put a hand on his neck and bent over his shoulder to murmur something at his ear but Sherlock did not seem to notice. So Daddy looked briefly at me and sighed with a half happy half slightly worried smile.

“Eat your breakfast Rosie, Honey. “

He went to the bathroom and I was left alone with frozen Sherlock. Well… I played it cool and ate my breakfast very almost adult alike. But he… outfroze me, somehow. I finished breakfast, went up to my room, got dressed (gnh, Daddy had still not done the laundry… my pink trousers were not available, I had to settle on the yellow ones… but they do not fit my new shirt that well and… anyway) and as I went down to brush my teeth (sigh), Sherlock was still frozen. Daddy, full dressed and clean shaved,  was sitting in front of him, trying somehow to make him unfreeze by talking while gentle trying to take the papers out of his hands. Didn’t seem to work. Well, I took my bag, my coat and went to kiss Daddy goodbye, not really sure what to do with Sherlock… I decided to play it cool and did as usual : I punched him in the shoulder and wished him a nice day. He didn’t react. I met my Daddy’s gaze and we both exchanged a somewhat puzzled smile. Anyway, I had to left. I was already late. Later than usual.

Later, during first morning break, I got an sms : 

“Watson, we might talk. Will pick you up after school –SH”

And just afterwards I got a second one : 

“:) - SH”

Can’t wait for the school to finish for today.

[canaryatlaw]

okayyyy it’s late so I should get writing. today was pretty good, very productive, so that’s good. I woke up to my alarm at 11 and got ready, then grabbed my stuff and ubered over to the post office for my 11:45 passport appointment (which you were supposed to get there 10 minutes early for). There was a bit of a line for the normal packages so I waited a bit over in the designated passport section, then a woman came over and started helping me. I had brought a second copy of the front page and the other passport photo because I had a feeling I fucked up the first one because the stapler was being uncooperative which ended up being a good thing because she did opt for that one instead. but yeah, gave her all the required stuff, showed her my ID (you need to give them a copy of your driver’s license or ID front and back to pass along to the govt and show the post office people your actual ID) along with a copy of my birth certificate that will get mailed back to me. So yeah, pretty easy, I was happy about that because the last time I was doing this my senior year of college it was a giant pain in the ass and I ended up having to make like 4 separate trips to the post office to get it done, so I was just glad this was done. they said 4-6 weeks to get it in the mail, which should be just in time for the London con we’re doing at the beginning of March (so excited for that!). I could’ve expedited it by paying more, but the total already came out to like $145 so I was like eh that’s plenty and for some reason you could only pay in cash, check, or debit (no credit) so I didn’t want to make it any more expensive. So that was all handled, I stepped outside and tried to figure out if there was any public transit options that made sense but there really weren’t, so I ended up doing an uber pool back which worked out pretty well, one of the other passengers, the driver, and I ended up in a conversation about how silly the express pool’s decisions as to where to drop people and how to route things are and they just make no sense, and I ended up getting dropped right at my apartment instead of having to walk, so that was good. I hadn’t eaten anything yet so I heated up one of my frozen NY bagels and ate that while I went on my computer for a bit. I realized I had failed to bring along the envelope I had to mail to the post office, so I would have to run to the UPS store to get that done (it’s much closer than the actual post office, but depending on what you need it can be a lot more expensive). I also counted my quarters since I badly needed to do laundry, which I needed $8 for to do two loads ($2 each load in washer and dryer) and I ended up with $7.50, so I figured I could go to the UPS store and pay in cash and hopefully get two quarters. So I went to do that, it ended up being like $3.62 (it was one of those big manila envelopes, containing job application stuff for an appellate research attorney position that looked interesting but insisted on mailing in the application) which would land me with one quarter, so I asked if he had enough to give me 4 quarters instead of the dollar bill and he said sure, I told him I needed to do laundry and was just short and he laughed and said clean clothing is definitely important, so I appreciated him helping me out on that. Once I got back I tried to collect as much clothing that had been thrown around my room into my hamper before carrying it to the basement to start my first load. Once that was done I returned to my apartment and thought about being lazy and watching some tv but I decided to be productive instead and start cleaning my room, which was pretty much a disaster zone at this point, so I ended up working on that the rest of the time I was doing laundry. I ended up finding even more clothing that needed to be washed so I threw it in with the second load which then ended up being overstuffed, but I didn’t have enough quarters for another load so I didn’t have much of a choice. Once the first load was dry I took it upstairs and folded them and put them away before retrieving the second load. Our dryer isn’t terribly effective, especially so when you put too much clothing in, so most of the clothing was still quite damp, so I tried to figure out what was okay to put away and what I needed to let lay on my bed for a bit (something I generally have to do with jeans and such anyway). So I did that for a bit and my room was pretty clean at that point. I had plans to get dinner with Jess once she got off of work, so I went to the living room and watched some more of The Jinx. I’ve only got one episode of that left now (it’s only 6 episodes). I have to say, I find it to be much different than the other true crime docs in its category like Making a Murderer and The Staircase namely in that I am entirely convinced he’s guilty of all the three separate murders he’s been accused of, when that was something I was not ever even close to concluding in the other shows, so that’s been interesting. He just comes across so psychotic and his stories don’t add up at all, and I’m sorry but that’s just way too many coincidences for me- like if it were two like in The Staircase (though that is still highly suspect being that the deaths were so similar) or in that one season of Undisclosed I could believe it would happen, but three seems to be a bit much. Anyway, Jess got off of work and we met up at the spot to get some food. It was very cold out (like 20 degrees) and she wanted to get out of the cold ASAP so we ended up going to one of the restaurants that were on the first corner we reached, which was a restaurant/bar combo that’s known for its various drag queen events such as drag queen bingo and other fun things like that. So we went in and got some food, and after not too long they announced there was gonna be a comedy show, so we were like okay cool, and there were three stand up comics that were pretty funny, the last one was definitely the best. so that was cool, and then at like 8:30 they were gonna have an open mic which initially wasn’t meant to be many people but it seemed to just snowball when there was more and more interest in it and since we were there when it started we didn't want to leave and seem impolite, so we ended up staying for the whole thing which ended at like 10:15, and we’d been there since like 7 😂. These comics were obviously much more amateur, and varied in comedy levels quite a bit. Some of the subject matter was like OH GEEZ but we also live in a very LGBT friendly/populated neighborhood (and it’s basically somewhat of a gay bar really) so there was a lot of stuff around that which was really funny. The highlight was definitely this one lady who was talking about her experience being a transwoman and recently having surgery (which she referred to as getting an “artisanal hand-crafted vagina” and then what she had to do in aftercare and those implements being discovered by TSA when she flew in earlier that day.....and honestly she was funnier than the rest of them all put together lol. They only got like 4 minutes each though so they were in and out fairly quickly, there was just a LOT of them. I was thinking like what I would do if I ever tried that and I feel like I would revert to my best stories which generally revolve around my little sister as a small child being incredibly cute like when she was 2 and we “accidentally” taught her the f-word and one day she just looked at my brother and was like “Rudy you fucker” in front of my mom and we all just died on the spot 😂 or when my mom accidentally bought her a Christmas dvd from the church bookstore which she didn’t know contained Santa at the end (our parents did not do Santa) and when he came on my sister was just like in her angelic 3 year old voice “wow, I guess there really is a Santa!!” and the look of sheer horror that was on my mother’s face was something I’ll never forget 😂 those are the things I find funny at least. Once every wrapped up the host was like “Shoutout to the two ladies in booth 2, you guys have been here since like 7 pm, you’re awesome” and we pretty much just died laughing. Went home after that, did a bit more room cleaning while my roommate was in the shower and refilled my pill box for the week before taking a shower and proceeding to get ready for bed, and now I am here. So yeah, good day. I have nothing like, scheduled to do tomorrow, so I’m gonna aim to do my hair (not the full dye, just the overtone deep treatment which should help it last a few more weeks before I have to fully redye it) and hopefully do the dishes, which aren’t too bad right now (as opposed to how ridiculously full it normally is by the time I get fed up enough to actually do them) so that should be fine, and watch the Brooklyn 99 premiere in the evening, lol. The only other thing on my “list” of things to accomplish is get an Illinois driver’s license since I’m gonna be sticking around here for a while and I need to get an enhanced one for travel anyway since NY state is now requiring that, and I can’t do that until after we get back from Phoenix this weekend because I need my ID for the airport, and once you apply for an IL one they take your old one (and give you like a paper copy in the mean time but that would definitely not work for an airport) so I need to do the flying before I start that process. I should have enough time between that any other trips we’re doing to get it in the mail, I don’t think we have anything flying-wise scheduled until London at the beginning of March, so that should be fine. We’ll probably do a few more local Midwest cons in February that we hit up last year that were fun. And yeah, that’s about it for now. It’s almost 2 am and even though I don’t have any solid plans for tomorrow I should still be getting to sleep so I don’t stay up too late, so I am going to go to bed now. Goodnight my dudes. Stay excellent.