#i have queer coworkers though...i should talk with them more. maybe i can be more of myself with them

[international-repeater-station]

i've started to think a lot about how one might manage being non-binary / trans in a post-soviet country. atp, as a russian, i think i was immensely lucky to have been able to use they/them pronouns for a while, in a confused-but-still-got-the-spirit social circle anyway--they didnt know a thing about being non-binary but supported me nonetheless. i myself have met nb and queer individuals too, even without socialising much. but now im wondering how do people go about the actual process of transitioning on hormones here. well, how they did, anyway.

[kyntypes]

This may be a hot take based on a pet peeve, but I don't think you support all nonhumans if you dismiss the idea of someone being nonhuman folks for behaving in "human" ways. Whether that be through identifying social cues, valuing having a job, language, opinion differences, etc. Not every nonhuman wants to run around freely in a forest with their pack, or dig through dirt. Not every aquatic nonhuman wants to swim in the ocean, in a pond, or a lake. Some nonhumans behave in ways we'd consider human, and that's okay. No offense, but some of the stuff I see on here is just stuff *anybody,* nonhuman or human, can do. Yes, a tiger can be a stay at home mom in the suburbs. Yes, a vulture can be vegan and advocate for animal rights without it being related to their nonhumanity. That doesn't make them any less nonhuman, though.

In my eyes, assuming someone isn't nonhuman just because they don't have the urge to growl, or want to "run freely in a forest", doesn't have a distaste for human social norms, has typical human interests, values human social values, etc. doesn't mean they aren't nonhuman... The "basic girl" who has a "basic" wardrobe that's not a general alt or boho style without an interest in taxidermy doesn't mean that they aren't nonhuman. That 56-year-old man working at the register could be a wolfdog, and you'd never know. That rude individual in passing could be a literal pterodactyl. Rude behavior isn't exclusive to humans. Your cousin obsessing over things little girls typically would enjoy doesn't mean they're not a fox. I obsessed over Barbies as a kid, not just animal toys. The popular kid in your class isn't automatically human just because you find them annoying. Sure, they may be loud and rowdy, but have you ever considered that they could be a needy lion on the inside? One of your teachers at school could be a phoenix, yet still have a typical reaction to fire. Your teacher may understand the importance of teaching students how a fire should be reacted towards, despite being a phoenix. That coworker who is very hardworking and focuses on work doesn't have to be human just because they value having a job and understand the importance of having one. They need to make money somehow, plus, they are allowed to be nonhuman and fit into society neatly. Some nonhumans are able to understand human rules and human life more than others, and that's okay.

Maybe it's just me, but I hate seeing posts that assume everyone around them is human, and that they are the only nonhuman in the area. What if you can't see through another physical nonhuman's veil? What if that otherkind individual doesn't display behaviors of their kintype at all? A therianthrope? Otherlink? Have you ever considered that the folks you talk to are just not human at all, and that not every nonhuman has animalistic, nonhuman behaviors in some form? I hardly act like my fellow red ruffed lemurs at all, yet I am one. I seem so human externally, and nobody can see through my veil. I'm sure someone would assume I'm human just because of the way I act. It doesn't matter how you act. It just matters how you ARE. At the end of the day, only YOU can determine how YOU identify. YOU cannot just decide whether someone is nonhuman or not just because they don't "act like it". You aren't the CEO of nonhumans, so please, don't conclude someone isn't nonhuman unless they say so.

Imagine going, "That person must not be queer, because they don't outwardly look queer." Like?????? That's pretty much all I hear whenever I see someone, pretty much be like, "These stupid HUMANS around me. They don't know what it's like to be nonhuman. I'M the only nonhuman here! They don't wear tails, ears, do quads, vocals, or have shifts, tsk!" Chill out, homie, your sibling could be covertly a jackrabbit that doesn't experience shifts or have an interest in quads or gear, lmao, and you're saying all of this.

Nonhumanity doesn't have to be violently in your face. It can be discreet, covert, undetectable, and private.

[eclipse-song]

I can't stop thinking about a tweet I saw a few days ago commenting on some completely unsourced comment on the Rider wiki. It was trying to say Kobayashi hated showa rider and coming up with a whole conspiracy theory on hating Inoue because his dad wrote a lot of Showa rider and this made him not like her. It was all pretty ridiculous and a lot of people were laughing at it as they rightfully should. But...idk it got me thinking about how toku fans especially have a tendency to form a lot of strong personalities and ideas about these writers that we quite frankly....don't know much about personally. Especially when many people are basing these ideas off of their writing, which I know from my work, it's broadcasters and producers who have a lot more say on story direction. Depending on the production, the writer is sometimes even working until they create something they dislike but pleases the client.

Kobayashi has very few interviews to be found but most of them indicate she has no problem working with certain people, and honestly it would be fairly unprofessional to outwardly state that she did in the middle of an interview. She's even expressed how she and Inoue have quite similar writing processes in one that I did happen to read.

and for Inoue...I feel like I maybe just have this very glass half full mentality or at least a tendency to assume the best of people but....I get confused by how a lot of people in toku fandom talk about Inoue. Like the guy isn't without fault but also I see people talk about him like he is malicious and intentionally seeking to harm people when everything I've read about him is that staff and coworkers of all ages have had extremely good experiences with him. He's old and in his 60s and can put his foot in his mouth sometimes (like the rtr question in that one livestream he did say he thought it was a bit ridiculous to have two Kam riders having gay sex) but also in that same answer he said he wanted to do something he wouldn't be allowed to show on TV which is equally true. He also in other places has said a major reason was simply that he thinks Tezuka's actor is a good looking man. There's also the fact he's been writing queer storylines in shows since the 80s (dirty pair trans episode is legit a banger episode) and in the zio vs decade stuff he has Heure and Ora have a meaningful conversation about how it's perfectly fine to be a boy who likes other boys. IDK! I think those aren't really the actions of a person who is actively looking to harm people, it reads a lot more to me as a 60 year old man who is making some genuine attempts at shaking things up and is just sort of missing the mark in places. Him being a 60 year old cis dude is also where I just go “yeah that’s why he writes a lot of women like that” though he does have some stand out characters as well who can be excellent. He reminds me of a lot of my old uncles who are ultimately well meaning but just say shit sometimes. Along with the fact he said he's attracted to people regardless of gender I don't see him really as some huge big bad villain who's "queer baiting" or any of that nonsense.

Ultimately this is a conversation that happens at my workplace a lot these days too which is why it makes me feel some type of way. Directors and story artists and writers I've met who have been painted as not so nice turn out to be lovely people who've had their actions misconstrued. Then I've met people who I've been rather excited to work with and ended up severely disappointed in their behavior. I just can't help but feel it's really strange to have tons of focus on writers who we mostly know through their work that they're paid to do according to how some client wants it. I've definitely been guilty of this in the past but formulating personalities of strangers we don't know, especially when painting them in a wholly bad light, is just sort of uncomfortable to me.

[slow-drowned-angels]

Getting money anxiety… well, mostly in a “oh god I am currently still very financially dependent on my parents and soon I’m going to have to fully financially support myself (or it’s expected that I do, anyways) and oh god how am I going to do that” way. Not in a “need immediate assistance” way.

Please don’t feel pressured to read or respond because I know that can be a lot.

Some coworkers were saying how the field I’m interested in doesn’t pay very well (in a “full-time engineers have two jobs and/or need roommates to afford cost of living” way — yes they should unionize and I told them as much) and that plus looking at my expenses has triggered Anxiety. Probably being on-edge all day hasn’t helped, even though I took my meds earlier (literally couldn’t take it any longer).

(I’m also spending more recently because I’ve been in a new area and I wanna explore and get all the Asian food that I haven’t been able to have for the majority of the last four years.)

But like I don’t know who to talk to about it because idk lots of people have more complicated/difficult financial situations and my worries seem probably seem pretty naive to people who are actively Going Through It.

Idk I guess it’s the anxiety and then not feeling like I can talk about it which is rough… and like the anxiety surrounding how people I care about would perceive me if I were to bring up a “naive”/priviledged worry. Which I understand logically is fucked — not poverty olympics and I know people who care about me will be supportive — but ugh.

Writing it out always makes me feel better though.

It’s too late to take myself seriously.

Capitalism sucks.

Unionize or die I guess.

I wanna talk to friends but I’m so far away from most of the people I know :( I super latched onto the queer librarian who helped me get a library card. In good news! I got books! And I’m planning a zoo trip! (Also god damn when did zoos get so expensive :((((( maybe it’s just this one because it’s Summer and it’s Big :/ but like… zoos are usually my “cheapish” fun event :/)

I also haven’t seen my therapist in a while and so I guess this is theraputic.

[unoriginalmess]

A Second Mask: Chapter 4

Did that just happen?

Hello guys! It's me. I'm finally writing again. Sorry about the delay. I'm going to explain more at the end of the chapter, but I'm just going to keep the beginning short. So here is chapter 4:

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

To say Adrien was concerned would be a huge understatement. He was downright disturbed. Its been weeks and still Marinette hadn't changed back to the happy, peppy, nice girl that he knew. AND SHE WOULDN'T EVEN TALK TO HIM ABOUT IT!

He tried to talk to her for a whole week after her original trasformation, but after the repeated firm rejections, he stopped altogether. He figured that maybe with some space, she might be able to work through whatever she was going through, but at this point, he's losing hope.

When he is feeling this distressed about something, he usually turns to his lady, but she has been acting weird too. Ever since she suggested they start sparring, she's started to show that she is going through kinda a rough time as well. She is the same ladybug when everyone is watching, but when it's just the two of them, she looks sad and tired. She has also started saying some concerning things while they are sparring. She has started talking about how she has started taking being Ladybug and the Guardian more seriously, and how she has less distractions now, which would be a good thing if she didn't say them so sadly.

The good thing is, the sparring has given him a chance to get out his aggression because of the whole Marinette-situation and his anger at his father in a safe environment. He didn't like the idea of hitting Ladybug at first (especially in the face) but with her not holding back on her hits, he felt more comfortable doing the same. It has helped them fight better too. He hopes that whatever Ladybug is going through in her civillian life will work itself out soon, but until then he will be there for her. He just needs to figure out how to be there for Marinette.

•••

Felix was making good progress with Marinette. After they first asked marinette about (insert fashion question of your choice here, I legit know nothing and I didn't have time to research anything for this chapter), she had started answering their questions on a daily basis. After a couple of days of that, she had started to rant to them about different things in the fashion world that were bothering her, exciting her, or confusing her that particular day. In response to that, they had started to respond to her rants with their own opinions on the subjects and even start their own rants.

It had gotten to the point where Felix would now consider them to be friends, though they know that Marinette would never call them as such, it was fine with them. They know she has trust issues, and they can understand why, so they are fine with being friends in everything but a name.

Felix was looking forward to their daily banter as they waited in their seat for Marinette to arrive. When she did, she was followed by a very pissed-looking Alya. Felix turned to look at her and noticed that she had what looked to be tears forming in her eyes. What they didn't notice was the little black butterfly that had entered through the window in the back of the room, and was making a beeline towards her.

•••

Marinette walked to school in yet another one of her newest fashion creations: a pair of oversized grey ripped jeans and a navy blue sweatshirt. She was actually really liking her new look, and the comfort that it offered was just an added plus.

She was actually feeling excited to talk to Felix about Gabriel Agreste's newest fashion flop. They were the only person that she had met that actually cared about fashion as much as her. It made her happy to talk to them. It kind of scared her how excited she was. Shouldn't she be distancing herself from everyone? she thought to herself. No. Felix isn't my friend, they aren't close to me, they are just someone I talk fashion with. Like a coworker, yeah. Totally. Felix is just a coworker. ("Liar" says the inner voice in her head)

She was shocked out of her thoughts when she was pulled to the side by someone as she entered the courtyard. Her mind immediately thought of an akuma, when the person spoke.

"Marinette! Girl," Oh it's just Alya. Wait Alya? "How long are you gonna keep up this cry for attention? Are you really THAT jealous of Lila? I know that Adrien likes her, but that doesn't give you the right to act like this! And you are hanging out with Felix, who accused her of sexually harrassing Adrien on their first day here-?" She looked absolutely furious at her, but Marinette had heard enough. She cut Alya off in the middle of her presumably long rant.

"ALYA!" Said girl jumped at both the inturruption and the tone of voice used, "First of all, this isn't a cry for attention, if anything its a cry for leaving me the fuck alone. Second of all, I'm not jealous of Lila. I'm not in love with Adrien anymore, and haven't been for a while. You knew that I was dating Luka right? Why would I care who Adrien likes? Lastly, I am allowed to hang out with whoever I choose, whether you like them or not. It's none of your fucking business Alya, and if you think that I'm just some jealous, attention-seeker why do you even care?" With that last question she stormed off to the classroom, leaving a speechless Alya behind her.

When marinette sat down in her seat, she just kept thinking about how Alya was just talking to her. How could she think that about her? They used to be best friends, and Alya wasn't even concerned about her not talking to her anymore, she was just concerned about her being "jealous of Lila". It made her so furious that she could feel tears trickling down her face. She sees the black butterfly out of the corner of her eye and without hesitation grabs it out of the air.

(Next part is taken from this post by @bigfatbreak)

"Go ahead and akumatize me- See what happens, Hawkmoth!" She screamed the words with a slight madness that the energy of the akuma was giving her, "Every leash has two ends! I just have to pull until I find where you're holding it!"

At this point, the entire class was frozen in place watching her and listening to her crazed-sounding voice threaten an actual terrorist. Marinette felt Hawkmoth's confusion and terror through the bond. What in the- She's sensing me through the Akuma?! The akuma then started to fly away, and when it couldn't it zapped her hand like it was made of lightning and fluttered through the same window it came from. Marinette felt like she had failed yet again and collapsed down on her desk, muttering, "Uuuuggghh. It escaped anyway... What a waste. I didn't realize that Hawkmoth was such a coward. He usually likes grandstand..."

She was startled when her hand was picked up by Felix's, "You likely scared him off by managing to locate him like that... A risky move, I should mention. I would ask that you not attempt that a second time. No one knows what his akuma is truly capable of. You'll want to keep off of this hand for a while, too."

"Oh, are those the doctor's orders? Why, Felix, it almost sounds like you care about meeee." Marinette was all too amused by Felix's concern for her. She also liked to tease them... AS COWORKERS DO.

"I have an investment in your presence. Now don't be cheeky and let's get you to the nurse's office," They said while holding her wrist and gently pulling her in that direction.

Marinette scoffed, "'An investment in my presence'??"

Felix chuckled while still semi-dragging her by the wrist towards the front of the room, being careful not to hurt her injury even worse, "What did I just say about being cheeky?"

On their way out of the door they passed a VERY distressed-looking Adrien. He seemed to be sharing the sentiment with the entire class of: Did that just happen?

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

And thats chapter 4. It is VERY LATE! I know. I've been swamped with work, and when I went to write it, I had zero ideas on how to write this chapter. I never ended up getting those ideas. I just went where my writing took me, so if it doesn't really match the characters that's why. I will try to be better at updating regularly, but it probably won't happen. Sorry to everyone with a normal sleep schedule, but this is the time that I write things. Also I didn't have my outline with me while writing this chapter, so it might not have everything I planned to write in it.

I would like to thank you all for all of the support I've been getting on this fic. Despite all of the chapter delays, you guys have stuck with me through all of it, so thank each and every one of you. I love seeing so many people loving this au as much as I do. Without you guys this story wouldn't exist, and I would've stopped writing it after the first chapter.

As always, constructive criticism is always accepted. I love being able to improve my writing whenever possible.

Thank you for reading. Have a nice day/night/whenever you are reading this. See ya next time guys, gals, and non-binary pals.

Taglist

@queer-illusion @apasponsor @heckinggremlin @1-ahiro-1 @hewantedbeefintheparkinglot @sassakitty @lennauts @rianoel @dorkus-minimus @khneltea @welp-that-was-unexpected @mlnchlymrshmllw @lovelyautumnsunflower @chariphrasis @lovesbooks @komatsuna-yuki @polyvirnl @innocentlyguiltyfrenchfry @qhobias @ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole @hammalammadamdam @cloudydaysomewhere @alcoholic-barney @basenikon @xxbehindthemaskxx @corporeal-terrestrial @shadowymemoirs @moonlight-densetsuu

[storiesofsvu]

hiii! hope you’re doing great 💖💓💕 I was wondering if you could write something regarding Rita’s (calhoun obvs hehe) “discarded” relationship with Ed Tucker. I’ve noticed that that’s something not talked about much. Idk, maybe your thoughts or a headcanon, thanks! 🌸

it’s okay if you don’t want to write about them, I’ll understand 🤗

Hi!! thank you!! i'm doing good!

okay. first off I think that people don't talk about it much because a.) it's only ever mentioned in a deleted scene so not everyone knows about it. and b.) because a lot of us hate it. LOL. tbh i never liked Tucker, especially on my first watch through because of who the actor played on Gossip Girl, like, he came onscreen and I instantly went "ick". upon a second or third watch through I finally kinda supported him & Liv together, and thought that they really should have been end game (out of all her toxic dick choices, he really was the best). BUT, lets talk about Rita...

Sometimes I think that Rita was out at a bar one night in dire need to get laid, and it's nearing last call, and Tucker's the only one left and she's all *sigh* "fine" kinda thing and takes him home to rail him into oblivion, maybe pegs him a couple of times. it maybe happens 2-3 times but that's it. (cause the line was Liv: "you should know i have history with Tucker" Rita: "so do i." so we don't have much context)

BUT. I can also see it being a much more longer term, serious relationship. (though canologically i dont think it was but i'll get into that later)

I do canon Rita as being very fluid when it comes to her sexuality, I mean, she has canon chemistry with SO many characters that there's simply no way that she's straight. but i also kinda feel like she prefers/has a soft spot for women. So while she may refer to herself as queer/gay, she's not gonna turn down a fun time.

Anyways, with Ed, they have a lot in common based off work alone. I think that he probably approached her, because, who the fuck wouldn't. And he's not intimidated by her like some people are. She's all "yeah sure, why not" about a date, because, why not. They go for dinner or drinks, and she's probably impressed by the place he chooses cause it's a little more high class than she expected from a cop. They can easily bond over bitching about detectives breaking rules and fucking shit up, and she probably has more than a few stories about cases he's handled of cops who fucked up and thus she easily got the case thrown out. They probably both despise Stabler, and overall, they have a good time together and when it's done, they probably share a quick kiss on the cheek, leaving it open to continuing to be coworkers (ish) or more.

Rita reaches out for a second date, and they're able to just be comfortable with each other. Ed enjoys going out to museums, art galleries, the more "boring" stuff that a lot of men wouldn't like, he's like...more sophisticated than Rita would've thought cause she kinda just lumps him in with the usual cop types. I think in the long run, they could work, Saturday mornings reading the paper, helping each other with the crossword, playing games like backgammon, maybe chess, cards, just like the little quality time with each other that they each enjoy and makes them happy. We're also hoping Ed's a good cook, which honestly, I can see him being. Like, full on, better than Carisi, can make delicious and fancy shit at home and that makes Rita fall even harder for him since like, she sets pasta on fire. I honestly see them both having more of a romantic relationship with each other, like, enjoying time, snuggle up, sleep in the same bed, but not too much sex, don't ask me why. but i do. I think that they could fall into a very *comfortable* domestic relationship/dynamic that they're both kinda *shrugs* "this is nice, lets just be life partners" and live together and come home to the other and not actually get married.

okay. now CANON wise, the scene in s18e1 Terrorized that we DO see. Is Rita entering the interrogation room Liv & Tucker are in and he greets her all "Rita...what're you doing here" (or something like that) and she replies "nice to see you too Ed..." with a raised brow and tilt of the head and a bit of attitude. SO, obvi they're greeting each other by first names and shit so that's you're first hint that they have history. BUT, hear me out. it's the "nice to see you too" that makes me think it was rather casual, and that Ed ghosted her to a sense. Like, not a sexual fwb thing, but like, they'd been on a small handful of dates and had been enjoying things and then, who knows what happened, but he ghosted. she's not pissed about it, per say, cause she is Rita fucking Calhoun, but like, she's annoyed, she doesn't like being ignored and probably deserved a text at the very least. (and then to get back at him she goes and fucks liv so good liv forgets tucker's name)

anyways! thats what i've got for ya for now!!

[forcefully-awoken]

hello this is for @titan-fodder's coffee shop AU collab. you can find the rest of the amazing works here. divider by @firefly-graphics

i am patently against coffee shop AU's but i do like plot twists.

pairing: Nemuri Kayama (Midnight) x Reader

Summary: Life is boring when you work at a coffee shop in a small town and your life feels like it's going nowhere. Good thing Nemuri walks through the door and sets her eyes on you.

warnings: pining, angst, ghost shit, author has never worked in a coffee shop, period typical mentions of homophobia

WC: 4.2k

You never thought your life would turn out this way.

Stuck in a dead end job at a local coffee shop, always working the opening shift, paying off loans for a degree you barely had use for now. You weren’t so old now, barely twenty three, but starting college seemed so far away. Everything felt so much easier back then, you were so young and idealistic and you were going to change the fucking world. Now you have to listen intently while the rudest woman in town berates you because her coffee isn’t heated to the exact degree she had specified.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” You reply smoothly, voice honey sweet and fake as hell, “I’ll get that remade for you right away.” You had no such intentions, but this bitch didn’t need to know that. Instead you took it behind the counter, just out of sight while you busied yourself making another drink. Then you handed the original back to her, and watched as the woman took a sip, sighing happily.

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” She snips, walking away. You roll your eyes and take up the register again. Standing in front of you is the single most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. You’re certain she’s never been in before, at least not while you’ve been working. She’s eyeing the menu board over your head, while you’re able to drink in your fill of her. Long black hair, falling in soft layers down her shoulders, pale, unblemished skin, full lips, and bright blue eyes. She’s dressed in the vintage style you’ve seen come back into fashion, red glasses perched on her face.

“W-what can I get for you?” You curse how you stutter out the question- you haven’t stuttered in front of a woman since the sixth grade and you realized you liked girls.

“I think just a black coffee, small.” Oh for fucks sake, even her voice is pretty. You mutely nod, picking up a cup to write down the order.

“And a name?” The words are routine as they slip from your mouth.

“Nemuri Kayama,” She replies, giving you a smile as bright as the sun. All you can do is nod back to her, taking her money and making change in silence. Your coworkers snicker quietly when you even go so far as to hand deliver her drink.

“What time do you get off work?” She asks when you manage to make it over to the table and set the drink down without spilling it on yourself. “I’d love to get to know you.” You check the time on your watch.

“Another two hours,” You reply, sadness in your voice because there’s no way she’ll wait.

“Wonderful!” Are you dreaming? You must be dreaming. “I’ll see you then!” Once again you can only nod in reply, silently wondering what the fuck to yourself as you get back to work. You try to look at Nemuri as much as you can, but she seems to just be lost in thought as she sits at the tiny two person table. She gazes out the window with a dreamy smile on her face, every so often bringing the cup to her mouth- though you notice it doesn’t look like she’s drinking, only smelling it.

Two hours has never seemed so long as your shift drags by. Customers come in, you take orders, your heart tries to beat out of your chest. Soon enough you’re hanging up your apron on its little hook, and ignoring the stares of your coworkers as you take a place across from Nemuri. Her cup still looks full, and you almost want to ask if there was something wrong with it before shutting that train of thought down- you’re not working right now.

“Hello,” You breathe out, trying not to sound so excited, failing miserably. “You waited.”

“Of course,” Nermuri practically purrs at you, leaning forward on the table, just slightly closer to you. “I wanted to talk to you.”

That’s all it takes- you think you’re in love now. The talk starts small, just figuring each other out, you tell Nemuri about your degree and she tells you she never went to college, that she worked as a secretary at a bank you hadn’t heard of. You figured it had to be in the town over, but the conversation moved on before you could ask. You don’t think you’ve had such a delightful conversation in ages, so far from your friends and not close to your coworkers.

Nemuri makes you realize how lonely you’ve been, but soothes the ache before it can even begin. Neither of you offer up your last names, but that seems so inconsequential. You want to know what makes Nemuri smile, what drives her out of bed in the morning (“Not a lot,” She says, smiling down at her now cold coffee, “Just getting by like everyone else.”). For all you can find it in you to care the rest of the world is standing still now. You think you could swim in her eyes, drown in the soft peals of her laughter.

It’s not until the pointed coughs of your coworkers that you realize the shop is only a few minutes away from close. She hesitates when you ask for her number, but that doesn’t slow you down. You offer to walk her to her car, but she says she doesn’t have one- doesn’t even have her license in fact. You offer her a ride home, eager to spend more time with the mysterious woman. She nods just the once, and you go to gather your things, taking her coffee to the back to pour it out in the sink. You’ll really have to figure out what kind of drink she likes.

Nemuri is standing by the table, waiting for you once again. She looks ethereal in the low light, and you tell her as much.

“You look like an angel,” You declare confidently, but she somehow becomes even more pale. There’s a split second where you think you’ve done something wrong enough that she’ll faint right there on the spot but she perks up after a moment.

“That’s the first time I’ve been compared to one,” She teases you, and you lead the two of you out the door. When you turn to grab your keys from you bag you take your eyes off of her for a split second, it’s barely anything, but there’s a gentle breeze and when you turn back Nemuri is gone- leaving you with disappointment and more questions than answers.

Namely, what the fuck.

You had the next two days off, and you were left to wonder- had you done something wrong? The signs felt like they were so clearly there but maybe you had misread them? Maybe Nemuri was just flirty like that, and ran at the first sign of queerness? For the first time in your memory you wish you would get called in so you could ask her about it. But your days off passed quietly, with you just puttering around your house, trying to get everything done that needed to be.

Soon enough you’re there, bright and early, and nervous beyond belief. It feels like it takes all day for Nemuri to show back up, but she arrives- this time right before your shift is over.

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing out of her mouth, and damn, it’s hard to stay even a little annoyed when she looks so cute staring at you like that. You find yourself melting, smiling and taking her order- which is your favorite drink, you recommend it to her. When you join her after your shift again she gestures to it. “It’s yours.” Your answering smile is all she needs.

“Tell me about your favorite childhood memory?” Nemuri asks, and you find yourself unable to deny her.

“My mom took us to this mermaid cove place, they have a show with pirates, and mermaids, and singing, and I just remember how happy she was watching it all,” Your eyes grow a little misty thinking about the past, about your mother, “I remember telling her that I was going to be a mermaid one day, just to make her smile like that all the time. I was a very ambitious seven year old.”

“You sound like a good daughter,” Nemuri replies, smiling sweetly at you. “I’m sure your mother is still very happy for you now.”

“She passed,” You manage to choke out, trying hard to sound like you’re okay, “A few years go, but anyways, what about you? Your favorite memory?”

“I’m so sorry,” Nemuri starts, but sees something in your face so when she talks again it’s not about you, “We were down on our luck when I was a child, like everyone was. I was maybe nine or ten at the time- everything we ate was so bland, but it was all we could afford. One day papa came home with an orange- a real orange! We had to split it between everyone but nothing tasted sweeter.” Nemuri isn’t looking at you now- she’s lost in her own thoughts as surely as you’re lost in yours.

“We should talk about happier things,” You say, and Nemuri is nice enough to ignore the sniffle in your voice. “The future, maybe. Where do you see yourself in five years?” She blanches at that, actually, and you feel bad, taking a sip of your drink to focus your thoughts. “You’re right, that was bad. This isn’t a job interview.”

“I just haven’t given it much thought,” Her reply is a little stiff, formal.

“Ah, a live in the moment type of gal?”

“You could say that,” There’s a secret hiding in Nemuri’s smile, one you want to spend as long as she’ll let you trying to figure it out. “What about you? Big future plans?”

“I want to fall in love,” You blurt out, cringing back a little, “That sounds so cheesy. I just want to have a little place, just a little piece of happiness.”

“I don’t think that sounds cheesy at all,” Nemuri assures you, “I think it sounds amazing.” The two of you sit there for another moment, just enjoying each other before the alarm on your phone goes off- half an hour until your therapy appointment. You frown at the reminder, cursing it internally for disrupting your time now. You stand, gathering your things as does Nemuri.

“I have to go, but maybe I could take you out?” There it is again- the blanching, the frown that plays on her lips. “Or is that too fast?”

“We could meet back here?” She slowly suggests, “I live in one of the apartments above?” You’re not sure why she sounds so shy about it but you readily agree anyways- you don’t cherish the idea of coming back here but maybe you’ll get lucky if she’s already inviting you over.

“It’s a date,” You declare, feeling more confident when Nemuri nods in agreement. You bid your farewells and make it home just in time to pick up your therapist’s call- the wonders of telehealth. It’s hard to focus on what your therapist is saying, and she seems to pick up on that.

“I met someone,” You say, suddenly shy. Nemuri is so new, you don’t feel quite comfortable gushing about her yet. “It’s new. We have a date tonight.” There’s not much else to say after that, anyways. After that you’re able to focus just a little bit more, and soon the hour is over, with you promising to tell your therapist all about your date.

There’s still a few hours so you take your time getting ready, trying to find that balance between casual and dressed up. You’ve never felt so nervous for a date before in your life, but then it’s suddenly, somehow, time to leave again.

Nemuri is waiting in front of the shop for you, looking nervous but she lights up when she sees you. You can see a soft glow behind her- the shop is transformed. The door is unlocked, and she mentions something about being friends with the owner again when you lead the pair of you inside.

The main lights are off but there’s fairy lights all over, and the tables pushed out of the way, save for one right in the middle. There’s some take out on it, a Thai place you know you had mentioned earlier today.

“This is all so much,” You gush to Nemuri as you take your seat across from her. She looks perfect, and you tell her as much, just to watch the apples of her cheeks turn a beautiful shade of pink. It’s endearing, really, the way she waits for you to serve yourself, how she just watches you, and talks to you. Conversation flows as easily as the wine you brought, though you’re the only one drinking it.

“I thought I had misread the signs,” You confess. “I thought maybe once again I had a crush on a straight girl.”

“I had the same fears,” Nemuri returns, shaking her head a little, a soft strand of black hair falling around her cheek to frame it perfectly. “I know I can be a little unusual and I thought you were simply being kind.”

“Oh, no, I totally wanna fuck you,” You try to keep your voice a little light, teasing, but it comes out damn near a purr and Nemuri’s eyes widen in response. Now, your tipsy mind thinks, now you’ve definitely over stepped and you’ll be reported, and get fired or sued, and your therapist will be so disappointed and-

“It’s good to know we’re on the same page there.” Her words bring you up short, stopping your anxiety spiral before it can even really begin. Nemuri shifts, her eyes going distant when she looks away from you. “Though there is a slight complication here.”

That sends another pang of worry through you- you’re pretty certain Nemuri is perfect, what could complicate sleeping together? A million different scenarios speed through your head all at once, but for the life of you, you’d never be able to predict the next words that come out of her mouth.

“You see, I’m a ghost.” You’d laugh, but her face is kind and serious and all sorts of heart breaking.

“I’m sorry?” Your manners prevail, and you bite back what you want to say, “You think you’re a ghost?”

“I am, I know I am,” Her words hold a note of finality, so much so that you can’t help the next words out of your own- “Alright, then prove it.”

She looks back at you now, catching your eye with a mischievous grin. She stands, but the chair doesn’t move. Nemuri walks, actually walks, through the table, standing right in your food to bend over and brush her lips against yours. It’s like there’s nothing there, only the hint of coldness, something that sends a harsh shiver down your spine.

“Do you believe me now?” She asks when she pulls away.

“I do,” You answer simply, before everything goes dark and you feel yourself slide out of your chair onto the floor, as Nemuri calls your name.

Your eyes flutter open and Nemuri’s face is so close to yours that if she had breath you would be sharing it. You scramble away from her, kicking the chair as you move, and her face falls.

“You- you’re a gh—” You choke on the word as you sputter, unable to get your mind around it. Ghosts aren’t real, your mind distantly supplies, the wine is drugged, or you’re having a stroke, or you fell asleep on the couch but this isn’t- it can’t be real. Nemuri is still frowning at you, kindness in her eyes like she understands. God, how do you even begin to tell your therapist about this? That the girl you have- had- have a crush on is a ghost?

“I have to go,” The words leave your mouth, body twisting as you grab your bag off the floor and run out the door. You think you hear your name being called but you don’t look back, you don’t stop shaking until you’re home, and the door is locked behind you. Your mind doesn’t stop racing, anxiety making your heartbeat loud in your chest.

There’s a pang of regret but all you can think is why, how, what the fuck? Nemuri is a ghost, she walked through a table and kissed you and you ran away. You had work in the morning but it was so hard to think about going back. Would the shop even look the same now to you now? God, had she died there? Is this why she lingered around it? Were her bones buried under your feet as you made rude middle aged women their overpriced lattes?

That thought is enough to have you running to the bathroom, emptying your stomach into the toilet. You slide to the floor again, pressing your forehead against the cool tile to try and stop your reeling brain. You have no idea how to process this now, electing to simply crawl into bed, deciding to call in sick in the morning.

And you do- you call in sick for two days. You curl up in your blankets, and ignore the world outside. You think about the sad look on Nemuri’s face, and it sends another pang through you every time. It’s hard to think of disappointing her again but where do you go from here?

After two days you can’t justify calling in anymore. Your bills need paid, no matter how many ghosts you think you might want to have sex with. You don’t see her your entire shift either, which makes you a little sad, and that surprises you. You hesitate as long as you can, hoping to see her before you head home, but she never shows.

And for the next week you don’t see Nemuri. You brush it off when your therapist asks after her, and try to write it off as maybe a slight psychological break. But then you see her, sitting in a corner, and you notice how the sunlight goes through her now, like she’s fading, like she’s only ever been halfway there.

You don’t acknowledge her until the end of your shift when you whisper, “Tonight. The same time.” There’s no reply but when you glance back she’s gone.

Your hands shake something terrible when you drive back to work after hours. When you arrive this time there’s no grand set up (and you really should ask Nemuri how she did that!) there’s just the table by the window, the same one you first spoke to her at. You don’t even see Nemuri as you walk in, the lights on just enough for you to see.

“Hello?” Your voice echoes around the open space and then all of a sudden she’s right next to you. Materializing out of thin air like, well, like a ghost.

“You’re here,” The word sticks in her mouth, and you feel the pressure of it on you, compelling you to take a seat. You slump in your seat, eyes widening when Nemuri is just there across from you- only she didn’t walk there. She’s just there. Everywhere. The thought makes you dizzy.

“I figured,” You voice is too quiet, you clear your throat, straightening up in your seat, “I figured talking can’t hurt, right?” Nemuri nods, a little too eager. “I don’t have to solve your murder or anything right?”

“Heavens no!” Nemuri sounds scandalized at the thought which brings you little relief. “I died of old age, quietly, in the apartment above here about twenty years ago.”

“But,” Your mind is still reeling from how old she must be, what year her date of birth is, “Why are you here then?” And from the look on her face she knows you don’t just mean why is she in the coffee shop. She doesn’t look at you when she starts her story.

“My father wasn’t a nice man,” She says, a hard line to her words. “He loved me, please don’t misunderstand that, he loved me in the way fathers love their first daughters, which is to say pining a legacy on my shoulders before I know how to walk. He looked at me and saw future generations, saw grandchildren that might share the color of his eyes, the shape of his mouth.

Unfortunately for him the first time I kissed a boy I knew- I couldn’t love him or any man. I couldn’t love anybody the way I loved the girl next door, my roommate in my first apartment, the lovely barista at the coffee shop. I was… wrong in his eyes. I wasn’t the child he had been promised and that broke something inside of him. He asked me to deny myself, if I wouldn’t have a husband then at least, I should have nobody at all.

And I couldn’t deny him that. I died here. I died alone, with regrets, and one big thing tethering me to this ground we sit on. I wanted a love. I want one kiss, with someone who looked at me and saw me and understood me and loved me so much it didn’t matter that I was wrong in my father’s eyes- because I would always be right in theirs.”

You’re crying by the time Nemuri stops talking. Big, fat, salty tears make their way down your face. Your nose is running too, and with shaky hands you move to wipe your face off with a napkin. You can’t imagine Nemuri’s life the way she described it. Your mother had hugged you tightly when you came out, had set you up with the daughters of friends, had held your hand in hers on her deathbed and told you to love as much as possible.

But Nemuri, sweet and kind and loving, had been denied that because it was the wrong time? The wrong place? The wrong family? It broke your heart to think of decades alone, closing her eyes that final time knowing there was nobody waiting on the other side.

“I’m sorry,” You gasp out, trying to stop yourself from crying more, “I’m so sorry I ran off, I didn’t even give you a chance!”

“You’re giving me a chance now,” Your heart breaks a little more at how kind she still sounds, “And you’re not running. I don’t see fear in your eyes. I see acceptance, and understanding.”

“And love,” You say with some finality. It’s hard not to love someone like Nemuri, and how could you not love her now? She’s laid her soul in front of you, and all you want to do is hold her hand. You reach out, placing yours palm up on the table. She’s hesitant, but then her hand rests in yours and you can feel her- warm and vibrant and alive. She’s solid when you look back up at her. Holding her hand in yours, you move around the table, bringing your face level to hers.

“I love you, Nemuri,” You tell her, watching as tears gather in the corner of her eyes, “And I won’t stop until my dying day.”

When your lips meet hers this time you feel them, the first and best kiss she’ll ever give you, and there’s a soft exhale from her that your greedily swallow down. When your eyes open again she’s gone, but you know that’s okay.

Somewhere, she’s happier.

Your life moves on after that.

It’s weird- you think going back to the coffee shop might feel awkward but it doesn’t. You swear you can hear her laughter in the ringing of the bells over the door, feel her touch as it stops you from burning yourself on something hot. She’s everywhere and nowhere- just the simple, calming presence of an old lover.

You meet a girl, two, three, before the fourth one finally sticks. It doesn’t feel like betrayal, not when your first kiss with her happens because an invisible force pushes you forward and into her arms. Sue, your wife, is lovely and understanding, even when you drag her to a cemetery, and introduce her to a grave holding a person you couldn’t know, given that the gravestone held a death date of when you were five.

She doesn’t question it when she finds you talking aloud sometimes, to thin air, to a person who’s name she’s only even seen on that gravestone. Sue holds you tight on your worst nights and lifts you higher on your best. Every kiss with her is full of life, of love, of a happiness you find yourself thinking you’re sharing with one other person. You give everything you have to Sue, save one little corner of your heart.

You move away, you move on from that small town and everything that held you down there. Your life flourishes out, it’s more than you ever could have dreamed of, your happiness so much that you’re not sure how your heart handles it. Every little victory feels dedicated to her, to the one ghost you’ve never been able to exorcise but that’s okay, more than, because you know Nemuri loves you still, wants you to be happier just for her.

And you know it too, when you close your own eyes for that one final time, and her voice calls to you from somewhere, far off in the distance.

[quercus-queer]

BA’s Reckoning

Yes, I stole this title from the Sporkful podcast. You should check it out!

So just a reminder the whole thing that kicked this off was when Tammie Teclemariam tweeted the photo of Rapoport in brown face (yes its brown face its a purposeful caricature of Puerto Rican ppl, his girlfriend called him her papi in the caption as well) saying he should simply write the article on Puerto Rican food then (the issue was Illyanna Maisonet, a Puerto Rican food writer, got rejected rudely by Rapo for her pitch to write about Puerto Rican food) Which brings up the larger issue of BA being racist and not covering any other dishes besides Eurocentric ones, and the ones that aren't Eurocentric are almost always either whitewashed or done by white people which is what happened with Masionet’s article (this is where Amanda Shapiro and Meryl Rothstein come in).

This led to a zoom meeting where Rapo made a shitty apology leading Sohla El-Waylly’s instagram posts, where she condemns Rapo, talks about her 50k salary despite having 15 years of restaurant experience (She ran a fucking restaurant and 50k in NYC is pathetic), being hired to help white editors, and not being paid for ANY of her video appearances (none of the poc you see in videos have been compensated including the zoom videos). Which has led to many people at BA being exposed for being terrible (Conde Nast is the parent company and owns BA, Vogue, Architectural Digest, Allure, Glamour, Wired, Epicurious,Teen Vogue among other things... also take note how most of these have consistently been criticized for their racism or “race problems”)

ANYWAY here’s a general guide of what each BA person has done, this is in no way comprehensive, feel free to investigate on your own, always fact check and form your own opinions!

Adam Rapoport: Brown face, not paying his non-white employees for their video appearances, treating his assistant Ryan Walker-Hartshorn (a black woman) like shit (she was working overtime and was barely making rent with what he was paying her), he's sexist (see every video with Molly) and racist (mixing up Sohla and Priya Krishna and never apologizing) and more!

Check out the Business Insider piece, twitter (Tammie’s, Christina Chaey’s, and Priya’s), Sohla’s podcast and interviews, and someone made a compilation of Rapo being condescending I think

Matt Duckor: Disgusting, racist, homophobic, sexist all around terrible person, probably the most obviously terrible of the bunch (see Rick Martinez’s insta plus Duckor’s own tweets), strung along Sohla for months saying that her pay was “stuck in legal” so that she would keep appearing in videos, gave Sohla a contract when this stuff first started happening to try and shut her up, HE is the one deciding pay for everyone at BA and was the one not paying poc for video appearances.

Check out Rick’s Insta, Twitter for Duckor’s tweets (screenshots bc he deleted his account)

Carla Lalli Music: First off, ppl are pointing out she was condescending af to a lot of her guests on her show (except for the white ones). The racism at BA did not start nor stop with Adam Rapoport and guess who was editor in chief before him? Yup, Mrs. Carla Lalli Music! Necessary amendment: Carla was the food director NOT the editor in chief and she is currently an editor at large... still a powerful position though and I think the sentiment still stands. She had a pretty pathetic twitter thread about how she should’ve done more but was focused on the sexism/focusing on women, strange because she also sent that shitty email to two women along with Delany and Brad after the two of them, Delany, and Brad were talking in the kitchen, telling them not to enter the kitchen without permission (not enforced on Brad or Delany obviously, only the two women who happen to not be white) I misread the article, Brad was a part of the convo, he did NOT receive the email, and didn't respond to the articles request for comment.. he fucking works in the test kitchen, i’m an idiot and that's on me

Business insider and her twitter 

Alex Delany: I have a post with the screenshots of the confederate flag cake he made himself because he felt the “need to express some southern heritage in cake form. Such a glorious cake...” for his friend moving to South Carolina, the lovely vine with the classic “F*g is a bundle of sticks joke” also have a post discussing that, he’s wildly underqualified for DRINKS editor and overpaid, also his girlfriend is Allegra Lorenzotti whose mother Eva Lorenzotti, is in Jeffery Epstein’s black book which is concerning (though who knows maybe Delany is dating a different wealthy Allegralo), also those sexist tweets

I have screenshots from Tumblr, ppl have the vine on twitter along with the sexist tweets (he deleted his twitter and Tumblr btw)

Andy Baraghani: There are screenshots of Alyse Whitney’s (an asian woman) twitter thread saying Andy purposefully undercut her articles multiple times because of a petty feud with Antoni from Queer Eye by using his friendship with Amanda Shapiro (Whitney’s editor) to kill the story, which is shitty and brings up the bigger picture of BA being cliquey and getting in with a friend of a friend and such which is just a toxic work environment

Amanda Shapiro: Puerto Rican food article, Alyse Whitney’s articles, she’s a perpetuator of the toxic work environment, stealing Nikita Richardson’s work and getting credit and pay for it (pls check out her twitter and the articles with her), also racist, should not be in charge

Chris Morocco: Made one (1) basic post (simply a reply to Molly calling him out actually) at the beginning of all this agreeing to not be in anymore videos until his coworkers got paid/backpay, he said he was complicit (duh) but also that he had no idea this was happening, but guess what? He is the one that hired Sohla for only 50k! There is a whole can of worms about how little Sohla was hired for despite her experience plus talent along with her current pay and Chris is a part of that. Also both his gumbo video and Halo Halo recipe are downright disrespectful at BEST and they should not have had a white man doing them (again with the white people doing articles/videos that can be EASILY given to someone whose actually part of that culture) and before anyone says anything yes the gumbo was for Chris’s show (strange how only white ppl get shows or in Andy’s case unless you’re friends with a higher up) still doesn't make the video less disrespectful, also he’s SAID he is friends with Anna Wintour (head of vogue, and a racist “there’s no room for black women” the reason the vogue challenge is happening)

Brad Leone: Himbo status permanently revoked, “Brad who just found out racism is real”(Sohla said this in the Sporkful podcast) is NOT acceptable for a 35 year old white man whose coworkers are suffering in a clearly toxic work environment, the screenshot with “I didn’t sign her contract she did” is NOT how you respond to your coworker being underpaid and disrespected by the company she works at because she is not a white man. I do not like him anymore, he has made apologies but ignorance to this extent is willful and I don't completely buy it the rumors he was upset Delany was going to be fired/would quit if Delany was fired/was mad at Sohla is not something I was able to confirm but based off of what I’ve seen he really needs to prove himself to be better, he can stay if that’s what his coworkers want but he is on thin fucking ice

Stuff I can't accredit to a single person, but BA is racist: 

NIKITA RICHARDSON, pls check her out on twitter

They sent Sohla to interview black chefs (bc BA has a bad track record) because she was the darkest and there were literally NO black chefs working at BA

Making Priya only cook Indian dishes (which were kinda whitewashed) I actually think this may have been Duckor

Tokenizing the poc staff (they would make them be in the kitchen when filming the white hosts shows and push them in front of the camera to highlight nonexistent diversity)

Paying Hawa Hassan only $400 for her video (probs also Duckor)

[blkgirl-writing]

“Burned Cookies”

Jo March x Fem!Reader

Summary: Jo March can’t keep her eyes off of you. But she doesn’t quite know what to do for her feelings about a coworker, let alone a Woman.

A/N: THIS IS IT!!! My big, long awaited Jo March smut. I’m at work and decided fuck it, i’m gonna finish my fic. Thank everyone for dealing with me as I wrote this.

Warnings!: Bisexual reader, Fingering, Grinding, some internal homophobia at first, less Dom!Jo than I would have liked. MOSTLY FLUFF!!!

words: 3.1k

"You've always got your head stuck in your writings, Jo," you smiled, brushing your hand across her shoulder as you walked by. Dressed in your newest winter coat, you only meant to tease your fellow teacher in passing. But she grabbed your hand, and smirked up at you.

"Just like you are always in your music," Jo said, pulling you into the back of her chair, and resting your intertwined hands on her shoulder. "One cannot criticize if once does the exact same thing."

"I certainly wasn't criticizing only the best writer in New York...I was making a glaringly obvious observation." You pressed your fingers inter her skin, coaxing her into calmness as you massaged.

"The best writer in New York simply isn't true. You must not fuel my growing ego," Jo scorned, though a smirk clear on her lips.

"Maybe I wanna see a more confident Jo March. One that will let me read her stories, instead of running away everytime I ask," you hummed slyly, resting your chin on top of her head, trying to get a look at her writings.

"I do not!" Jo turned, attempting to slap your hand, but you moved away quickly laughing as she faked fury. Though, she couldn’t hide the small blush on her cheeks. 

"Oh yes you do, my dear." With that, you walked off, giving a playful spin as you made your way to the front of the school.

"I'm off to the Opera! I'll tell you about it when I'm back!"

"You should be the one in it, not watching!" Jo yelled after you. You shot Jo a kind smile, and closed the front door. The brisk cold air hitting your skin instantly.

_

It was dark by the time you got back. Feet sore from the mile or two walk. You didn't have enough money for a carriage, and you did like the city atmosphere, the lights from the apartments, the crowded streets...but that did not make the trek in heels and some snowfall any less painful.

You let out a deep sigh of relief when you closed the door behind. Finally able to kick off your shoes, hang up the heavy wool coat.

The fireplace was still crackling. Making your way into the dimly lit living room, you saw Jo still sitting there. Nose still in her paper...a cup of tea placed beside her, hair down and hanging loose over her shoulders.

"You should be asleep, you know." You hummed , taking a seat across from Jo. She lifted her eyes up to you, setting down the pen for a moment.

"I don't need much sleep, anyway." Jo muttered, voice low amd a bit raspy. "How was the opera?"

"Magical, truly. You would have hated it, though. The story was terrible. But the lead made up for everything." You laughed, 

"Bad writing with good acting doesn't make up for a bad base.” Jo muttered, 

"I know, I know..." you said. “Are you hungry? I’m starving.”

That’s how you found yourself making cookies at 1am with Jo March. Promising each other no flour would be wasted, nor throw at each other (even if it was quite fun.) The ovens fire lit up the room just enough to see, and the few candles around just added to the glow. Neither of you were starved as much as just an hour prior, but no one wanted to admit that maybe the company was what they really wanted.

“No, you put the flour in with the sugar, not with the wets,” You said, gently grasping Jo’s hand, moving it away from the bowl. She audibly sighed at the touch, though, her body tensed at the movement. 

“You okay, Jo?” you muttered, voice low, trying to get a glance at her face. She turned away from you, shaking her hand off of yours.

“Fine, don’t worry about it.” She smiled, forced. “Should we add cinnamon to these? I feel like it needs something warm-” 

“Great idea. Cinnamon..Clove? Maybe some Cardamom?” you stepped to the cupboards, where the shelves of endless spices lay. “Almost like a chai.” 

“Of course you’d want plain Chocolate chip cookies to be flavored chai as well.” Jo scoffed, though playfully. She leaned against the counter, watching as you carefully looked through the racks. Admiring you. How you looked in the dim candle light. Proper clothes abandoned. You shed your top and overskirt, leaving you with just Corset stays and a white skirt. A apron loosely tied around your waist. It felt so intimate. So quiet, while everyone slept in the big house. It was so easy to forget it wasn’t just you and her. Alone, but together.  

“Jo? You’re taller than me. Would you mind grabbing the nutmeg from the top shelf for me?” You turned around, pouting hopelessly as you begged her. “Be a dear??? For me,” 

“Barely taller,” She joked, stepping towards you. The wooden floor creaked  as she stepped, sounding far too loud through the heavy air. 

“Makes a difference,” you said, nudging her side.  As Jo reached up, her skirt came loose from her skirt, revealing her pale skin. You couldn’t look away, even if you tried.

“No corset? You’re very ahead of the time.” You poked the open skin, feeling how cold she was. Your finger lingers there for a bit...too long to mean nothing. The thought crosses your mind to just keep it there...to press your whole hand to her back. But you pull away, letting the silly thoughts fade away. 

“You know me,” Jo said, letting a breathy laugh escape her lips as she came down from her tippy toes, handing you the Nutmeg that you had almost forgotten about.

“Yes, and i’m very glad I do.” Smiling, you reached for her hand, letting your fingers linger on hers for a few moments, before taking the spice from them. Her hands were so cold, you were quite surprised they were fully functional. 

“Now...what were we up to?” You Hummed, turning on the heel of your foot, and padding to the sink, where the very clear mess you two made was. 

“When do we get to the chocolate part?” Jo whined, leaning her head on your shoulder, peering over at the flour mixture you had whipped up in a flurry.

“Soon enough, my writer. Even faster if you actually did you half-”

“Hey! I was trying, before you asked me to reach up for a spice you didn’t even need,” Jo quipped, turning around swiftly to lean against the counter, head turned to you.

 “you’re pretty like this,” Jo muttered, biting at her already raw lips. Her eyes scanned over your face, searching for something you couldn’t figure out. But she was studying you like a book. 

“Thank you,” You smiled. “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

You cooked in silence, for too long. Jo quietly doing her own little task. Avoiding your worried gaze. And once you put the cookies in to bake, you two stood against the counter. Eyes drifting in different directions. The lack of contact was killing you. And Jo wasn’t much better,

"Y/n?" Jo asked, eyes now...almost filled with tears? The dim light revealed very little to the face, but you could see that she was sad, distressed.

"Yes, dear?" You quickly sat up, crossing the tea table to sit on the floor in front of Jo, reaching for her hands. Though, she pulled away, sorrow riddled through her eyes.

"I...I think I'm confused. I don't know what to do.”

"Talk to me." You urged, reaching for her hand. And though she flinched at the cold touch, Jo laced her fingers with yours. 

"Im...  I find myself attracted to women." She admitted, as if it was stuck in her throat. Words tumbling out and falling to the floor. She still refused to look at you. Silence filling the air for a long few moments. Letting the time sink in. Too much time for Jo to like. She was so scared, that you would tell, laugh, maybe even hurt her? She didn’t know. It was all so unclear. All she knew was that she was extremely attracted to you, and more so than any friend should be. And she had never felt that way towards a man, and when she tried, it made herself sick. “And it feels wrong. I have a friend back at home I should have been able to love. But I don’t. And...I’m quite sure now it’s because he isn’t a she. And I'm horrible because of that.”

“That’s what has got you so?” You spoke, a hint of a laugh in your breathy voice. “Jo, I’ve always known I like Boys as much as I like Girls. And I'm not the least bit afraid. It is simply who I am. I am not horrible for that. Neither are you.”

“What?” She gasped, word rushed, said with very little thought. The admission of your own was so confident, so true to yourself. It shook her to her core. 

“Is this shocking? I mean, I wear so much plaid, I thought it was obvious-” You chuckled, biting down your lip to keep from being too loud.

“Plaid doesn’t make you Queer,” Jo slapped your arm, you winced at the small amount of pain, calling out her name playfully. 

“Misses Turnime and lady Lilian? They’re a couple. And no one can ever name a day they went without plaid something.” You laughed, “I'm not saying we all wear plaids, but…”

Jo paused. 

“You’re...Okay then? With me?” Jo asked, eyes coming to meet yours. A sparkle of tears hanging from her cheeks. She appeared so with it, so confident all of the time. It was odd seeing her like this. It broke your heart.

“Oh Jo, don’t cry. Of course I’m okay with it. In fact, I’m quite pleased.” You smiled softly, reaching out to wipe the tears away from her skin. Delicately pressing a hand on her jaw, you leaned in, placing a quick, small kiss just off of her lips. “I’ve had my eyes on you since we ran into each other on the train.”

“You’re messing with me-” Jo stared at you, completely dumbstruck. Lips parted, brows furrowed. “No...no way. You couldn’t.” 

“And why could I not?” You whispered, just barely enough to hear. Honestly, you wanted a different reaction. You didn’t want to hurt her. Did you hurt her? “I-I hope I didn’t ruin anything-”

“No! No, I just...I’ve been admiring you, so graceful and beautiful. I can’t Imagine you liking homely old me. The girl too caught up in her work. You're..you.” She bit down on her bottom lip, eyes wandering down to her lap, obviously gathering the words going a mile a minute in her mind. “You’re just so pretty.”

“I don’t know why it’s so hard to Imagine, Jo. You’re pure perfection.” You smirked, placing fingers under her chin, lifting her head up to meet your eyes.

“Can I kiss you, Josephine March?” 

“Please, yes.” She inched closer to you, fluttering her eyes shut, letting you close the small gap.

She could have sworn, the stars aligned when your lips met hers. So soft and warm, fitting perfectly to each other. Her hand hesitantly wrapped around your waist, the other going up to your neck. Unsure, yet it all felt right. Just right. She couldn’t help the moan that came from her chest, bubbling up as she  moved away from your lips, and tucked her head into the crook of your neck. Pressing kisses along the skin there. 

 The pair stumbled into the living room, Jo unable to keep her hands off of you, desperate for more. And you drinking in the passion she so effortlessly gave you.

Jo laid you down on the couch, the light of the fireplace dimly glowing behind. It lit up your bodies, warm toned and cozy. Keeping the red hot fire between you. Her gaze so sharp, digging into your chest. Corset pushed down slightly, just enough for your nipples to pop out of the boned stays, pushed upon place. Skirt fully abandoned, you were truly a work of art. A painting, a song played with careful hands, a poem from the gods. Jo bit down on her lip, keeping herself from voicing too many of those helpless thoughts.

The way Jo looked over you, taking her hand and grabbing your jaw, kissing you with such force and power, it felt fucking fantastic. Power lacing through her fingers. She could make you feel pleasure, she could make you moan. 

Her lips trailed hot down your exposed chest, her hands working at untying the white skirt keeping her from going any further down. 

Your chest heaved against the corset, breaths shirt and eyes never leaving Jo. She was on fire. Beautiful and fierce. As soon as she finished with the ties, you lifted your hips so she could slide it right off, exposing your lower half completely. Jo's warm hands grasping your hips,  pressing them down into the soft cushion of the couch. 

You worked at getting her undressed, throwing her clothes haphazardly across the room, until she was just in her drawers, that hung loosely from her thin frame. You let your hands travel from her waist to her breasts, brushing against her nipples.

"Jo...please touch me," you whispered, fingers intertwining in her soft hair. The hair you had wanted to touch for too long. It was just as good as you had hoped. And the small moan that escaped her lips when you did so was even better.

It only seemed like seconds, time flashed by as she brushed her fingers against your heat, rubbing light circles against where you needed her most. Back arched and lips parted, you moaned out her name like a prayer, and she watched every small move you made. So entrenched by your body. She drank in the sight, it was easily the most beautiful thing she had seen. Like a painting from the gods, perfect in every way.

Then, a finger dipped into you, pushing in and out so slowly, dragging out the firey feeling that lit inside you. Your breath was heavy, and her lips on yours kept from releasing the dirtiest of sounds. 

Jo lightly grinded against your thigh as she worked her fingers into you, lips planted on the sensitive skin of your neck. It was hard for her to hide how turned on she was by you, how such little touch would bring her to her own climax. 

Your hand traveled down to her ass, pushing down the linen as you grabbed on tight, fingers surely leaving marks. It was her turn to whisper your name, shaky and light, begging for a release. 

“Cum with me, Jo,” Just like that, with her lips against yours, in sync, you came undone. Moaning against her as you shook through your orgasm, her own following right behind you. Heaven touched the two of you in a moment of pure bliss. You stayed like that for a moment. It wasn’t until she pulled her fingers from you that you were jolted into reality. Forgetting what had happened wasn’t some sort of dream, or amazing fantasy. Jo was naked, on top of you. And completely in love.

Jo’s hair now frizzy, a layer of sweat clear in the dim light. She stared down at you with a small, satisfied smile. Cheeks red, flushed. She looked like a goddess.

“that was-” You panted,eyes wide as your tried to grasp for air. 

“-Ethereal,” Jo finished, Guiding you to sit up. Faces inches apart, chests press together. You could barely feel her heartbeat, but it was there. Fast and hard. Her fingers pressed to your lower back, butterfly like.

“Jo?” You whispered, holding back a laugh as you pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. “I think the cookies are burning-”

“I like them crispy, anyway.”

_____

@sofia-r-1604​ @nina-a-holt​​ @rareimagine​​ @minelskede​​ @sweet-cottage-lesbian​​ @idontlikepancakes​​ @crazymexicanfangirl​​ @lordbyronbutworse​​

[newhologram]

Now that I'm once again committing to being openly #trans, stepping out of the rain and under the umbrella that used to keep me dry, I wrote something up for family, friends, and followers who may have questions:

Dear family, friends, and Holograms: Thank you for your kind messages. Even though most of you already knew this about me for so long, it feels so good to be more public, to be a voice just by being me, and to have your support. It's amazing to me to see that many of you have stepped into the role of an ally and are willing to learn more.

I'm writing this up to maybe offer some clarifications on things relating to trans identity in general but mostly my personal experience with gender. It's my hope that this will give you a template to work from. I don't want anyone to be so worried about offending me that they don't know how to talk to/about me. I want this to be comfortable for all of us. This is only my experience of gender at this time, so please remember that if you meet another trans/nb person, they will likely have a completely different experience than me.

Let's start with queer, which is an umbrella term for anyone who is not cisgender and/or heterosexual. It can be a useful label for someone who is not interested in having to spell out both their sexual/romantic orientation and their gender identity every time (it can get complicated even for us). Some of us might not fit neatly into the letters of LGBTQIA (notice it contains Q still) so this is the reason some people are comfortable with the label. Sometimes we do fit into the acronym, but queer is inclusive and we like it. It's also what's often used in academia. Queer history, queer literature, queer art, etc. Freddie Mercury is often referred to as a queer icon for example. Now, it can be a regional thing, as in some parts of America, queer is not considered a reclaimed slur (since it means "weird") like it is for say, a lot of Californians. While some of us feel empowered to own being "different" or "weird" while fighting for representation and rights, others may object to being called "not normal". Ultimately it's always up to the individual to decide what they are comfortable calling themselves, not what other people should be allowed to call themselves. I was always the weird kid and I have so much trauma around that and as an adult I'm like... yeah, you know what, I'm queer and proud. Now onto gender which is the focus of this post: transgender is an umbrella term. Trans as a prefix means "across" or "beyond", so transgender people have experiences and identities across or beyond gender. Non-binary is a gender identity under the trans umbrella. It refers to identities that are not strictly within the binary of man or woman. Non-binary itself is another umbrella term for many different genders such as agender (without gender), pangender (all genders), genderfluid (gender that shifts and changes), and many more. Gender is complex and varied across cultures and societies, so that's why there are so many different ways to describe it. Some may feel that not just one word works for their experience, so they may choose multiple labels or maybe even none at all. AFAB (assigned female at birth) and AMAB (assigned male at birth) is a way to describe what our assigned sex is without using "biological" or "born a (sex/gender)" as this is often used to invalidate trans experience --however, a lot of trans people who have transitioned may find it helpful to describe their experience as "born (and raised as) a girl" (again, up to the individual). We are all assigned sexes at birth but this obviously has no bearing on our gender identity or expression.

When I was a teen, "transsexual" was commonly used to describe a transgender person who transitioned, but this has fallen mostly out of use by now--But remember that being trans is not just about medically transitioning to another sex. There are many trans/nb people who do not transition, or who may make changes here and there to make their bodies more comfortable and fit their identity without necessarily transitioning. Whether or not this is a transition is going to be up to the individual. The social transition of coming out as trans/nb can be just as drastic as anything medical. (For those wondering why it even matters when celebrities come out as trans/nb if they aren't going to "change their bodies"--Visibility and authenticity. Just like I'm doing.)

Now on to me: I cannot accurately or concisely describe my lived experience of gender since it's informed every other experience of my life, but I will try. I'm NB and I definitely don't feel like a woman, but this doesn't necessarily mean I feel like a man either. "Boy" and "girl" do feel more relatable and accessible for some reason. I feel simultaneously and alternatingly like either, both, neither, all, any, and also just me.

Like I said, I can't really describe it. But for whatever reason, "boy", especially "feminine boy" has always felt more like my default energy. Don't ask me why, it is what it is. When I put on makeup, I never feel like a girl doing it even if I'm consciously exploring an archetype like "flapper girl" for example. It has always felt like princess drag to me. People were clocking me on this even when I tried to be a normal "girl". I often wonder if this is why I always felt so ugly before and now when I fully embody my gender as it is, I suddenly feel beautiful and comfortable. I feel closest to feminine or fluid archetypes, it's just how I express myself. This would not change if I were AMAB, I'd be just as feminine. I'd still be the same me.

Pronouns, for me: I can't say that my feelings on this will stay the same forever, but for now, I'm okay with any and all pronouns. I have some longtime followers who refer to me as he/him and that's amazing and so affirming!! *chef's kiss* But it's totally okay to use she/her with me too. Because I am aligned with feminine archetypes, I can't resist using she/her for myself often especially if I'm all dressed up in kawaii drag. They/them is also acceptable. This also goes for it being okay to refer to me as either a girl or a boy (or gendered family relation terms. But like, I'm Mommy to my cats, not Daddy xD)--Even though I'm not strictly one or the other, I feel all genders. While I agree with the common AFAB feeling of it being frustrating that she/her/girl/woman is always going to be considered my default by most people, and that this is/was a source of a lot of my gender dysphoria, I promise you won't offend me by referring to me as such. Often when speaking out my experience of being perceived as a woman, I might refer to myself as such because I'm talking about the way I am interacted with. (ie, it's okay to DM me like "HEY GIRL:･ﾟ✧ but the only way you’ll actually offend me is to insist I am “just a girl”/invalidate my lived experience/try to dictate my identity and labels)

It's still hard for me to share this very vulnerable part of my identity, even after having talked about it for 10 years online and with friends already. I'm probably going to keep having waves of anxiety over this as I shift into living daily life from the truest expression of myself. It really is enough for now to have you recognizing and acknowledging this very special big part of who I am and how I live. To be able to say it now everywhere and not just on my blog feels like a new universe being born. In closing, here are examples if that was too much information to ingest and understand all at once and you're not sure what words to use when referring to me: "This is my [family member], she's queer." "This is my friend New's page, he's non-binary." "This is my coworker's art, she's genderfluid." "This is a blogger I follow, they're pangender." "New is a trans model, this is his latest work." These labels and pronouns are all fine! :> I love you all. Thank you for letting me shine.

[snorlaxlovesme]

This is just uh. A thing. A long thing. I actually drafted it back in July during Pride Month but chickened out before I could post it. But then I discovered that Ace Week exists and what better time to rant about the quintessential Ace Experience(TM) amiright?

.

I’ve struggled to define my sexuality since I was like 17. I can remember me and some of my girl friends going to the mall and talking about boys. I was currently teetering around a relationship with one of our male friends and they asked me to define why I was attracted to him and I couldn’t. They didn’t really think anything of it, moved along in the conversation and said “well X isn’t my type, so I guess I wouldn’t get it.” But the conversation stuck with me.

1. Because I never really thought the idea of a “type” was real. I didn’t think people ACTUALLY arbitrarily decided who wasn’t worthy of their affection based on a random set of archetypes. I thought they were shallow for saying that about him. I thought it was a mean concept to not let someone be “your type.”

2. Not being able to identify what I DID find attractive about him was....off. Like sure, he looked fine, but tbh he looked like an average teenage white boy and I couldn’t really pick out a physical identifier that made me want him. That seemed like a bad thought to have about one’s significant other.

Needless to say, that non-relationship went nowhere and I eventually told him I wasn’t feeling it. I thought I just wasn’t mature enough for relationships yet.

At age 18 I had my first kiss. Another male friend of ours. Another relationship I’d been teetering around. I had told him multiple times that I didn’t like the idea of dating him so soon after I had broken things off with X. It felt weird, too soon, let’s hold off. But part of me also didn’t like the fact that I was 18 and had never been kissed. It wasn’t at the forethought of my mind all the time, but it lingered back there. Maybe it was because, puberty-wise, I was a late bloomer. Maybe it was because, in my friend group, I was always somehow dubbed “the innocent one.” I didn’t want to continue being late for every major marker in life, so when Y took me up on a hill at sunset and said “I’m going to kiss you now” I let him.

It was not what I thought it would be. All the magical descriptions of kisses in YA books were drastically over-selling the experience. The first one was nice enough, but I couldn’t help but thinking “this feels exactly like kissing a relative” and being a little relieved and little disappointment that the sensation was exactly the same. The second kiss was much worse because he put his tongue in my mouth and I quickly discovered I hateddd that.

I thought that maybe it was Y’s fault. I didn’t like him the way he liked me, so there was no magic. No spark. But also maybe I was just doing it wrong? He did kind of imply that I wasn’t the best kisser (god, how romantic) and so maybe the more we did it the more I would like it?

We went on one more date after that, and almost every time we made eye contact he tried to kiss me. It was horrible. I spent the better part of the day actively trying to not look at him because I didn’t know how to tell him I didn’t want to do it anymore. That seemed like a bad thought to have about one’s significant other.

Needless to say, it didn’t work out. I’d like to say I handled the situation as maturely as with X, but in reality I ghosted this kid for like 2.5 months and eventually sent him a facebook message saying I wasn’t feeling it. I figured I wasn’t mature enough for relationships yet.

College I had no time for relationships, or so I told myself. Maybe I didn’t have the mental capacity for them because I was too busy wishing I would get hit by a bus (higher education did not go great for someone with undiagnosed ADHD). I kind of assumed everyone also felt the same way, but people were coupling up around me left and right. Everyone had the same stressors I had, maybe even more so, and yet they had time to form new relationships and have noisy sex in the dorm room next to mine. I didn’t have time, though.

My roommate asked me in those first few years if maybe I was asexual. I actually got mad at her for even implying it. Asexuals were emotionless robots who were so repulsed by sex they didn’t even want to THINK about it. I talked about sex with my friends all the time! I masturbated when she wasn’t around like every other day! How dare she even insinuate that I might be one of those people. I just wasn’t ready to be in a relationship yet.

And sure, I’d been on tumblr for years at that point. I’d been relatively educated about the LGBT community and its various factions. But nothing about it screamed ME. All those people seemed to have the same shared experience of knowing who they were since forever, of experiencing some form of discrimination based on who they were. I had always been straight, right? And no one’s ever discriminated me for who I liked. 

It was weird, though. Getting older and hearing more and more people talking about sex and just like, NOT feeling the same way. Was talking to my friends in a group chat one day, and one of them was head over heels for one of her coworkers. Not in love, but I-wanna-rip-off-your-McDonald’s-uniform-and-fuck-you-right-here-in-the-break-room (do McD’s even have break rooms? whatever) lust. She’s like, “you know that electricity you feel when you’re next to someone you really, really like. where every time you get close to them you feel this MAGNETISM and your entire body feels hot--”

--and all I could think of was how that sounded EXACTLY how Bella described her feeling towards Edward in Twilight, and just how ridiculous it sounded. That’s some YA bullshit, that’s not real.

And then our other friend in the chat was like “yeah.”

Oh. Well I guess I just have a lower sex-drive than you guys. That’s whatever.

I didn’t really identify as asexual until I saw a post about an aspec identity called autochorissexuality. 

The term autochorissexual describes a subset of asexuality which is defined as: a disconnection between oneself and a sexual target/object of arousal; may involve sexual fantasies or arousal in response to erotica or pornography, but lacking any desire to be a participant in the sexual activities therein.

That...kinda sounded like me....

Like I said, I masturbated and all that jazz so I assumed I couldn’t be asexual. I literally loved orgasms. I read smut and watched porn to get off like I assumed the rest of the world did, not even really realizing that a lot of people...get off...thinking about people doing stuff....to THEM.

I do not think about people I know when I masturbate. It feels incredibly weird for them to pop up in any of my fantasies, and I kinda just assumed that meant I wasn’t attracted to any of them (which I’m not), so it was fine. It didn’t really occur to me that I literally NEVER fantasize about myself when I get off. If I read smut I’m thinking of the characters. If I watch porn I’m thinking of the actors. Never am I imagining someone hot and sexy doing hot and sexy things to me. I’m not even very good at getting off based on my imagination alone, unless I’m basically writing my own smut in my head and imagining what THEY enjoy. The thought of imagining things being done to ME feels weirdly...embarrassing? I don’t know. I don’t dig it, so I don’t think it. 

Again, it did NOT even occur to me that that might not be how other people operated.

I also didn’t know that asexuality COULD have subcategories like that, other than aromanticism, which was an identity I toyed with for a while and ultimately am still unsure about.

But learning that liking orgasms =/= allosexual was kind of a wake-up for me. 

After learning about autochorissexuality (which, while I am incredibly, infinitely grateful that someone coined that term so I could learn more about myself, I will never identify as because it is a mouthful and I honestly don’t know how to pronounce it), I began identifying as asexual. I was 21 at the time. I’m almost 26 now.

A couple people know. Mostly people who follow me on tumblr that I also know in real life. I never really had to “come out” to them per se because they saw my posts and rolled with it. Wasn’t a big deal. I think that I actually had a conversation and TOLD those friends in that group chat, but that didn’t feel like coming out, more like all of us finally coming to a realization about me we should have figured out a lot earlier. Also, they’re friends from tumblr, so they’re not the types to make a big deal out of that stuff either.

Even though I have a couple of tumblr friends that I skype with regularly, I don’t really bring it up in conversation that much. Like two of my irl friends (who, again, follow me on tumblr) know, and we don’t really talk about it much either. It’s there, we all know, but if I don’t bring it up, they don’t either.

I’ve never really “come out” before. Had to sit someone down and have the conversation. Part of me thinks it’s kind of pointless, because whether or not I’m sexually attracted to others isn’t any anyone else’s business, really. It doesn’t super impact my work life or my life with my friends or family, so why does it need to be said? If I decided I liked women and wanted to date one, that would be a big change that I’d have to address to someone. But me being asexual is just me continuing to not have sex with anyone, the way I always have. Seems like a weird thing to cause a fuss about.

But it’s part of me. And I want to talk about it sometimes. 

But I don’t even know how that conversation would go. Asexuality is a relatively invisible subset of the LGBTQIA+ community. Like, it’s the last letter, the one that often gets cut off. And when people do bring up the A, it’s for Ally. I’m not gonna get into the discussion about that, I don’t know enough queer history to form a hot take, but the point still stands that many people don’t know about asexuality. And while it seems relatively easy to explain, I guess--

”I don’t experience sexual attraction”

--it also feels way more complex than that. And I’m not very good at articulating why I’m NOT something else when I have a hard time identifying what that something even IS. I was the kid who thought having a “type” was shallow and mean! It didn’t occur to me that people’s sexual fantasies INCLUDE THEMSELVES AS PARTICIPANTS. So how do I explain my lack of attraction to people?

But maybe I’m being too reductive of the masses. Like, I’m not the brightest bulb in the bunch but *I* was able to learn what was asexuality was on my own. Who’s to say others haven’t? Maybe I won’t need to give an informative slideshow every time I come out to someone.

...But what if I’m wrong? What if I get into a relationship one day and I find myself INCREDIBLY attracted to my partner? What if I get into a relationship with a WOMAN one day and realize that I was les/bi/pan this whole time? I know that demisexuality exists, I know that sexuality is a spectrum and people are constantly learning about themselves and evolving. I don’t want to downplay that or..or...invalidate that. I know. But I’m an idiot. And I can’t help feeling that if I come out and commit to fun new adjective about myself and then all of a sudden that adjective doesn’t fit me anymore I’ll be labelled as fraud for forever and ever. 

I know that’s probably unlikely for the most part. But it’s still something that’s there in my mind that I feel every time I think about talking about it.

I don’t know. Part of me doesn’t know why I’m writing this post because there isn’t some grand conclusion to my narrative or sweeping answer to my problems. My story continues for as long as I live and maybe things will change and maybe they won’t. I’d like to be able to come out one day and say it. To my sisters. To my coworkers. To some random dude hitting on me who seems kind enough to understand there’s a reason I’m reluctant to flirt back. Probably not to my parents. I don’t know if I want to present the slideshow to them about my lack of sex life, nor do I think they would handle my act of vulnerability with grace or tact (boomers, y’know).

I guess I can end this post by saying that it’s not all bad. Not being “out” kinda sucks, but right now, knowing is enough. There are a hundred other micro situations from my past similar to the ones I spelled out above that made me wonder what was wrong with me. I wanted to be able to like someone the way other people did, to have a normal relationship, but I couldn’t force myself to do it and I didn’t know what was stopping me. The whole am I just broken  conversation whirled through my head many a night in college when insomnia prevented me from sleeping and depression stopped me from giving myself a fucking break. It sucked, and maybe it’s a little grim to think of asexuality as a diagnosis to a lifetime of symptoms, but that’s kind of what it felt like.

And that’s not bad! Why? Because i know that I’m not alone and that this is NORMAL . Being asexual is not being broken! It’s something that many people identify with! And honestly that thought alone thrills me enough to make this whole ridiculous narrative worth it. There’s a whole world of people out there feeling the exact same way as me, and none of us are wrong for feeling that way. It is unreal the kind of confidence that gives you.

My friend from earlier, the one who desperately wanted to bang her co-worker, she said something to me the other day that struck me with how far I’ve come in terms of my identity. I was sobbing to her on the phone about a shitty thing in my life, as one does, and she pointed out how the strangest things will get to you while others don’t even have an effect. If someone mentions how I don’t have my drivers license at the ripe old age of 25 I legitimately have a breakdown on the phone with her about it, but if people make jokes about me being a virgin I don’t even bat an eye. 

And it IS weird. If someone would have made a virgin joke at me at age 20 I probably would have spiralled into one of my late-night, crying-into-my-pillow sessions about how much I fucking SUCK at being a human, but at age 25 it’s just...whatever. As someone who doesn’t experience sexual attraction, why WOULD I have had sex already? If I don’t seek it out, don’t want it, it’s not gonna be a part of my life, you know? And I don’t care. Past me, without this identifier, would have cared deeply. Current me could go her entire life without having sex and I don’t think it would drastically effect her mood. 

It’s weird how one little word can turn things around for you like that.

[purgatoryandme]

Hello! I've been going through your replies lately and have noticed that you have provided some life advice in your past replies. Wondering if you would be able to help me out on this one? You seem very level headed :) Me and my friend recently got into a argument about politics - he has been becoming very conservative lately and i am very liberal and queer. We got into a disagreement in Nov last year and haven't talked since. I miss him and am dying to talk to him again. Any Advice?

It’s easy to be level headed in text replies because I’m forced to read what I write as I’m writing it sksksk. I also get to be vague since I don’t ever really have details on people’s issues, which I think makes me sound wiser than I am. This situation is pretty relatable and tbh, I’m never really sure what’s a good answer for it having gone through it myself with family members and coworkers. There are times that politics are just politics (when they are just differences in perspectives towards life and governmental involvement in it that are mostly theoretical or philosophical or genuinely debatable topics like the benefits of one kind of spending over another). At times like these you can just...not talk about them if you’re non-confrontational by nature. Or agree that you are fundamentally different people who will never agree on this topic, which is my personal fave when people get really heated. Or you can argue, as long as arguing isn’t something that will totally fracture your friendship. People are different and I think there’s a growing movement in Western society that kindof...doesn’t accept that people have different experiences and no one has to necessarily be wrong in their views and that arguing can be a great way to learn and diversify. A lot of people take arguing as a simple “you think I’m wrong and evil” and...yeah. It doesn’t go so good. However, there are also times where someone’s politics become more than that - when they personally affect you or people around you in a tangible way that is rooted in ignorance (when something is demonstrably wrong) or hatred (something meant to hurt or eliminate a specific group for the benefit of another).  In the scenario that this person’s politics are core values, things that they consider part of their identity, and they conflict with your own core values...I don’t think a close friendship will ever really work out. However, when you’re young you pick up lots of things and try them on. Sometimes those things are the political perspectives of your parents or peers. If this is just a phase for them, or if it’s been something you’ve been watching them slowly slide into through internet circles, there’s a chance for open and honest discussion about why their politics hurt you. There’s a chance that you can also be patient with this person and support their core values that align with your own as they figure this out for themselves. Since you still miss them, I’m assuming that this is less a core value conflict and more of a ‘they tried on hard conservatism and found it justified their biases or boosted their personal feelings of self worth, never considering how it paints people like you’, and so I’d suggest trying to contact them about how their politics made you feel in a way that avoids accusatory language (”When you say you think that people should be able to evoke their religious freedoms to deny people like me access to necessities, I feel as if you value a stranger’s hatred of me over my quality of life. It’s difficult for me to equate religious freedom with my right to exist - I feel as if you see my presence as a political statement to be argued for or against”). You’d be surprised at the impact conversations like that can have, especially when you’ve been sitting on them for months. It’s never too late!  Regarding that above bit of advice - depending on who stopped talking to whom re: who was angriest at the end of that disagreement, it’s possible that they’ve been waiting all this time for the chance to open a dialogue and understand what they did wrong (if you were the angry one). If they walked away and felt that you thought they were a terrible person, though, it might be best to be extra gentle in approaching them again with the fact that you feel their politics are harmful but you don’t hate them personally.  In the scenario that this person is now an activist for hate - ie for dialogues or actions that are actively harmful (”I’d support kicking all immigrants out of this country. They don’t need to be here. Refugees are murderers!”), I don’t feel like mercy is ever truly an option. A lot can be said for dealing with hate with patience and teaching, but I’m not about that on a personal level. If they were still actively in your life, I’d encourage you to fight them and show them that behaviour isn’t ok. Since they aren’t, though, I’d turn missing them into mourning who they used to be and accepting that, while they continue to spill vitriol, they aren’t my friend anymore and may never be again. I might also consider getting closure (for myself) by telling them that I miss them but don’t want them in my life when they preach something so terrible, though this is risky in that it gives them an opportunity to reply and hurt you again. TLDR: if you feel like the differences between you two are more opinion based or philosophical, maybe being at odds will be good for the both of you. If you feel like they’re more fundamental, try opening up about why their fundamentals conflict with yours in a way that is more personal than it is ethical. If they’re preaching straight up hate, mourn them and move on.

[shera-dnd]

A Day at a Time - Flirtation

I have a feeling y’all are gonna appreciate this one just from the title

Have some quality glitra content as we start making our way to angst glitradora end game

Also with a link to AO3 for those who prefer to read it over there

Catra had accepted the fact that Melog was trying to kill her at this point, because once more the little bastard dragged her through the building and straight to one of the prettiest girls she had ever seen, just so she could die of embarrassment.

“I’m fine.” Catra answered, trying to keep her cool considering everything that's happening right now. “My cat just decided to be a little bastard today.”

“You sure you don’t want any help?” The woman insisted. “I could hold your groceries for you, or your cat!” And as if he had somehow understood what had been said, Melog ran for the other woman and tried to climb her. She calmly picked him up, smiling at him as she did so. “Looks like they made the choice for you!”

Catra sighed, not wanting to bother yet another neighbour. “Thanks.” 

“So I’ve seen you around a lot,” She commented as she followed Catra back to her apartment. “Don’t think we ever talked though.”

“Yeah I didn’t want to bother you.” Catra shrugged. “You look pretty exhausted most of the time.”

“A shitty office job does that to you.” She commented, “And just a ‘hello’ every once in a while wouldn’t hurt.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” That would certainly make their random meetings in the hallway a lot less awkward. “I’m Catra by the way.”

“Glimmer,” She answered with a smile. “ Pleasure to meet you!”

Catra questioned what goes through a person’s mind to name their kid ‘Glimmer’, but the girl’s trans pride flower tattoo on her arm made it clear her parents probably had nothing to do with that name. That was not the only tattoo adorning her, as Glimmer’s body was almost entirely covered in them.

“And what is this little cutie’s name?” Glimmer asked as she petted the little creature, earning a pleased purr from Melog.

“Don’t encourage him,” Catra complained. “And his name is Melog.”

“I’m sure Melog just wanted to stretch his legs.” She commented, “Maybe he thought you needed to meet new people!”

“He could do that without making me run around like an idiot and annoy the neighbors.” Catra shot a death glare at her pet, who seemed completely unbothered.

“Well, I’m not annoyed.” Glimmer replied, defending the little cat. “He did give me an excuse to talk to a pretty girl.”

“What?” Catra did not expect that. Nor did she expect Melog to jump off of Glimmer’s arms and run back to his napping spot. She had been so distracted she hadn’t even noticed they arrived. “Thanks for the help.”

“No worries.” Glimmer waved off. Both of them stood in the corridor for a moment, waiting to see if the other would say anything. “I think I should get going.”

“Yeah… Wait!” Catra ran into her apartment, grabbed a little post it note and wrote on it quickly. She turned back to hand it to Glimmer, but she stopped herself and added a little smiling cat face to the note before doing so. “Here! It’s my phone number.”

“Oh just like that?” It was Glimmer’s turn to be surprised. “Not gonna keep your distance from the ‘weird pink bitch’?” 

“You seem nice and Melog likes you, so you can’t be a bad person.” Catra shrugged.

“‘Can’t be a bad person?’” Glimmer repeated and Catra worried it didn’t exactly come off as a compliment, but the ‘weird pink bitch’ smiled and answered “Thanks, Catra. Talk to you later.”

And with a smile and a wave, she was gone.

~~~

Unlike Catra, Glimmer hadn’t wasted a single second and started her just a few minutes later. Thankfully, baking required a lot of waiting, so she had plenty of time to just talk to her. ‘Hey, Glimmer’ she wrote, but hesitated before sending. Thinking back to the girl’s tattoos, she decided to change that text a bit. “Hey, Sparkles” much better.

“Is this about the star tattoos? Because if it is I’ll fight you.” Catra chuckled when she read that message. She would make fun of how feisty Glimmer was being, but she remembered she had said something similar to Adora the other day.

“You know where I live, Sparkles.” Catra sent, challenging Glimmer. The response took a while as the three dots kept showing up, disappearing and then showing up again.

“I won’t fight you, but only because I don’t want Melog to think I’m mean.” That earned a laugh from Catra.

“I’ll let him know that the weird pink bitch is a nice person.” She joked, but then got a little curious. “Where did that come from by the way?”

“You can thank my coworkers for that one.” Catra suspected something like that, but did raise another question.

“How the hell are you keeping an office job with multicolored hair and tattoos?” This was all relevant information in case Catra ever had to take an office job.

“They wanted to get rid of me, but there were no real rules about colorful hair and I dared their asses to fire the only queer woman working there because they didn’t like her look. Would love to see them trying to recover from that HR disaster.” Apparently Glimmer had a very ‘Fuck you. Fight me’ attitude about everything. “Also they don’t know about the tattoos, so I trust you to keep that secret.” She added, with a little winky face at the end.

She was halfway through writing a witty remark when her line of thought was interrupted by the smell of burning bread. She dropped her phone on the kitchen counter and scrambled to save what was left of her attempt at baking.

~~~

Friday night at the bar was going unusually slow. Catra wasn’t exactly worried about it, she was smart enough to save up some extra money in case she got too many slow shifts. Still, it wasn’t like anything could really bring her mood down right now.

These past two weeks talking to Glimmer and Adora every day had done wonders to improve her disposition, to the point even her boss noticed. Hordak found it all extremely suspicious as he had never been Catra this genuinely happy when she wasn’t up to something. Catra couldn’t exactly blame him for assuming shit, but it was still very rude.

It’s not like Catra was ever planning to introduce the two of them to her boss just to prove him wrong, but it looked like the universe had other plans, because she could see a familiar face approaching the counter.

“Hey, Sparkles.” Catra greeted. “Didn’t expect to see you here. You stalking me or something?” She joked.

“I guess it was a lucky accident.” Glimmer answered, with a strained smile, before taking a seat. “First lucky thing to happen to me today.”

“Shitty day at work?” She guessed.

“Worse,” She answered, pulling up the sleeves of her work clothes, revealing the myriad of tattoos that covered her arm. “My boss found the bar I like to relax at and I’m so not getting drunk in the same room as the asshole that’s been trying to fire me.”

“And this is what? The least shady bar you’ve found all night?” Glimmer nodded “Well, you’re in good hands now and I promise not to use any of your drunk ramblings against you in the future.”

“Why do I find that hard to believe?” She asked, earning Catra’s most innocent look. It wasn’t very convincing.

“I wonder,” She started, playfully “Do you get even more fighty when you’re drunk or are you one of those, ‘You know I’ve always thought of you as a friend’ kind of drunks?”

“Sorry, but I’m only planning on getting a little tipsy.” She explained, “And I’m a flirty drunk, thank you very much.”

“Damn it.” Catra faked annoyance. “Looks like I’m not finding out what that looks like.”

“Maybe some other time.” Glimmer offered.

“But now that you’re not flirting and you’re not gonna start an argument with someone, what are you going to do to pass the time?”

“Very funny.” Glimmer rolled her eyes. “I think I’m gonna relax with a friend and enjoy some good music. Mind making me a Bright Moon?”

“Ugh looks like you share my boss’s awful taste in music.” Catra complained as she started making her drink.

“What is wrong with Fright Zone? Their music is great!”

“Yeah. If you like listening to a sad emo boy groaning about losing his girlfriend.” Catra countered, having heard most their songs more times than she’d like.

“Okay fine, the lyrics aren’t all that great” She admitted “I could try to find something you and your boss would like. Maybe something by Sadie Killer or The Scream Queens.”

“I have no fucking clue what any of those bands sound like, but I like the names a lot more than ‘Fright Zone’.” She commented, placing the finished Bright Moon on the counter. “Here is your drink, Sparkles.”

“A pretty drink from a pretty girl. What else could I ask for?” Glimmer said with a smile.

“You sure you aren’t drunk already?”

“Maybe I’m always a little drunk.” Glimmer joked.

“That sure would explain things.” Catra teased, earning a playful death glare that she happily matched. They kept the stares going until they couldn’t hold it anymore and burst out laughing.

“You’re the worst.” Glimmer said when she finally stopped laughing.

“Hate you too, Sparkles.” She answered, with the biggest smile on her face.

And for the first time in a long time, she was genuinely happy.

[stitchcasual]

A Running Date

Live on AO3 or click through the cut for the full thing

a real fluffy Fenhawke fic with a wedding meetcute because We Deserve It

"Who's the hot guy with tattoos?"

Marian and Isabela share a look, high five, then Isabela extends a hand toward her new wife.

"Pay up, darling."

Marian grumbles and slaps a bill too crushed and crumpled for Garrett to make out the denomination into Isabela's hand. The look on her face says it wasn't small, however. The two of them are sitting on a slightly raised piece of flooring at the back end of the social hall Marian and Garrett's mother has rented for Marian's wedding reception. They're receiving visitors there, a whole line of people waiting to convey their best wishes to the happy couple on their happy day. Garlands and flowers decorate nearly every piece of available space, and despite the fervor with which Marian had opposed having a high society reception like their mother wanted, she and Isabela are holding court up here like they're royalty.

"You bet on whether or not I'd ask about him?" Garrett asks, unsure whether he should be offended or not.

Marian grins at him. "Of course not, dear brother. I would never do that to my favorite twin. We bet on how long it would take you to ask."

Isabela cackles. Garrett is definitely offended, but he supposes he does have a history of doing this. It's not his fault his sister attracts hot, queer people, though, so he can't be blamed for it.

"Anyway, that's Fenris."

"That's Fenris?"

Fenris and Marian work together, and she's told a few stories about him over the years when she and Garrett get together for drinks. According to her, Fenris is hilarious and intelligent, if a little grumpy and standoffish, and her favorite coworker. Garrett takes another look over at Fenris, standing against a wall with a nearly empty wine glass. Where Garrett is tall and broad, Fenris is average height and narrow; where Garrett is pale skinned and dark haired, Fenris has light brown skin and white hair. He's utterly gorgeous, which is the conclusion Garrett came to after an hour of trying not to stare at him rocking the hell out of that tuxedo during the ceremony. Fenris stood in Isabela's eclectic mix of bridespeople while Garrett performed his duties as his twin sister's best man and thankfully didn't stumble over too much in the course of what he was expected to say.

"Yep. And he is incredibly out of your league, but because you're my brother and I love you so much, take this when you go talk to him." Marian pulls a bottle of wine from behind her chair and somehow manages to hand it over to Garrett despite the scuffle with Isabela that ensues when she sees which bottle it is.

"That's cheating, kitten," Isabela pouts. "We'll have to amend our bet."

Garrett hightails it away from the dias after kissing his sister on the cheek, not wanting to hear exactly what it is she and her troublemaker of a wife bet on this time. He does hear Carver say, "What's his problem?” and then, "Ow!" when Bethany slaps his arm as they step up next to offer their congratulations.

This is still the drinks and hors d'oeuvres hour of the reception, which means everyone's milling around and stretching their legs after the long ceremony and before the long dinner to come. Garrett snags a bottle opener from Bodahn in the kitchen, promising to return it later, and attempts to make as casual a beeline for Fenris as he can. He doesn't want to come on too aggressive, even if he's been hoping for a chance to talk to him since yesterday at the rehearsal dinner.

En route, he's waylaid by Anders and Nathaniel, his exes who had, rather amicably after a year of them all dating each other, decided they'd prefer to be a couple rather than a thruple. That had suited Garrett, eventually, once he'd realized that maybe he wasn't actually ready to date so soon after his father's death. He'd stayed friends with Anders and Nathaniel, though, and has tried dropping more than a few hints over the last few years that the two of them should get married too, but so far they haven't. As long as they're happy, though. Anders and Isabela know each other from some shadowy past encounter, or so Garrett has always liked to believe, and Nathaniel, aside from being from old money himself and thus invited on his own merits thanks to Leandra’s system, goes wherever Anders does.

They let him go when he, after several minutes of polite conversation, explodes quietly that he's trying to go hit on someone thank you very much and if they'd be so kind as to let him get on with that. Or, rather, Nathaniel lets him go and covers Anders's mouth with one hand when Anders tries to say more than, "Him?? Why would you want to—"

Garrett approaches Fenris slowly, within eyeshot (sneaking up behind someone seems like it might make for a bad first impression), and grips and regrips the wine bottle, hoping desperately that it doesn't fall out of his hands, as suddenly sweaty as they seem to be. The murmur of voices around him is simultaneously too loud and too soft, and he doesn't know how to pitch his voice so it carries to Fenris without deafening him. He settles for a wave with his free hand when Fenris's eyes lock onto him during their sweep around the room. Fenris nods in return, brushing soft looking white hair out of his eyes.

Okay so the wave was a mistake. Bad first greeting. Garrett raises his other hand, the one holding the wine bottle, and tries again, adding the smile Marian has told him is dick-worthy. He's pretty sure she means that well. Fenris raises an eyebrow, considers, and gestures to the wall beside him with his wine glass. Garrett takes the hint: he opens the bottle immediately after settling next to Fenris and pours a generous amount into the glass.

And then he realizes he forgot to bring himself a glass too.

"Sorry, uh…Bran," he says, reading the table setting as he purloins the wine glass from the seat closest to him.

He chooses to believe that the look on Fenris’s face is amusement, and raises his newly obtained and filled wine glass in a toast. Fenris taps his glass gently against Garrett’s and sips. His beautiful, holy shit so beautiful, green eyes widen a second later, and he pins Garrett with a searching gaze.

“Where did you get this?” Fenris asks, and his voice is so low and rough and unexpected that Garrett short-circuits. In all her stories, Marian hadn’t mentioned anything about a voice Garrett would be one hundred percent okay with doing absolutely filthy things with. That the voice is attached to someone as handsome as Fenris is a perk.

“Why? Is it good?” he asks, finally drinking himself. “Oh, holy shit, yes, it is.” He takes another sip, expending a considerable amount of willpower to keep from gulping it down. This wine is fantastic.  

“Well,” he says, raising the bottle and peering at the label, “apparently this is the kind of shit rich people give as presents at weddings.”

“I didn’t get one,” Fenris sniffs, and Garrett laughs.

“I didn’t get one either, but the bride…uh, bride number one? Or would she be number two? I think Marian proposed so would that make her number one? Anyway, one of the brides is my twin sister and she let me have it.”

“Your sister must love you a lot to part with a bottle of Aggregio.”

“How did you—”

“I have a discerning palate.”

Fenris closes his eyes as he drinks again, savoring the wine. Garrett tries not to stare, he really, really does, but the way Fenris’s throat works when he swallows and the little sound he makes are entirely too difficult to ignore.

“I’ll have to thank my sister, I guess. You know, eventually. When she’s not swarmed by mobs of fancy-dressed fans.” Garrett loosens his tie, tugging back and forth with a finger until he can undo the top button of his dress shirt as well. His mother will rake him over the coals for this, but right now the comfort and extra air are necessary; the wine and proximity to such an attractive person are attempting to do him in.

“So, you are Marian’s brother.”

The question is less of a question and more of a statement coming from Fenris, and Garrett’s stomach swirls nauseatingly with the wine.

“Technically yes, though Carver’s also her brother, technically. If we’re being specific.”

Fenris rumbles with laughter. Garrett’s pretty sure if he’d been standing any closer to Fenris he would have been able to feel the vibrations of that sound.

“Please tell me she hasn’t been spreading embarrassing stories about me to everyone at work.” He would cover his face with a hand but both are occupied, and so he just hangs his head and only chances looks at Fenris out of the corner of his eyes.

“Horribly scandalous stories, I’m afraid.”

Garrett groans and closes his eyes.

“I have heard about your fifth birthday party three times.”

“Oh, sweet Maker, strike me down now,” Garrett mutters, and now he does gulp at his wine.

“I admit, I find it fascinating that anyone could eat an entire cake without anyone noticing until he throws it all up later onto the rest of the ferris wheel riders.”

“Death would be a mercy I do not deserve, yet humbly beg of you.”

That rumbling laugh again, and Garrett risks an actual glance at Fenris. He’s smiling, the skin around his eyes crinkling in true mirth. It doesn’t sound like Fenris is mean-spirited in his teasing, just amused at the situation. Which Garrett can sometimes laugh at himself, if he’s being honest.

“I am honestly impressed that you managed to get nearly everyone else on the ride.”

And, here’s the unbelievable thing, Fenris really does sound impressed. Not disgusted. Just honestly impressed at a five-year-old Garrett’s ability to projectile vomit cake at an amusement park. That’s a first.

“It’s not my fault they built that ferris wheel with latticed roofs on the cars. They should have known better.”

Fenris barks a laugh. “That is poor design.”

“That’s what I’m saying! It’s also not my fault that mom thought I couldn’t climb up onto that counter; I’d been climbing weird shit since I was born.”

“Do you still?”

That’s a personal question. They’ve taken the turn from funny anecdote into actual conversation, and Garrett borrows courage from the wine, topping off his glass and Fenris’s, before answering. This is going leagues better than he thought it might after talking with Marian and Isabela, and though he’ll credit the wine for the initial breakthrough, the rest is just…happening.

“A little, here and there. I was big into free running for a while until, uh, some stuff happened, and I just never got quite back into it. That and I broke my ankle. Hard to run on one of those.”

‘Some stuff happened’ is Garrett’s usual way of brushing past saying ‘my father’s death really fucked me up’ so people don’t ask too many invasive questions, but Fenris is nodding like he understands. Marian was working with Fenris when their dad died, so it would stand to reason that he might know about it and make the assumption.

“Do you run anymore?”

“Now and then. I need to sign up for a race or something, hard to get motivated otherwise.”

“I understand. Would you… I do not know how far you live from Marian, but she and I are neighbors, sort of. If you wanted a running partner, that is.”

Garrett does not choke on his wine, but it’s a near thing. He’d thought, make some conversation, drink some wine, sit at the same table for dinner, and then call it a night and maybe ask Marian about Fenris after a couple weeks and see if she could arrange a party or something so they could run into each other ‘accidentally’ and then he would gather up his courage and ask Fenris on something that could be called a date if one squinted sideways at it. Things are going so well he almost doesn’t trust them. He refuses to look over at Marian and Isabela, just in case.

“Yeah! Yeah, that’d be great. There’s that little park near her place. I could meet you there? When do you run?”

Between the two of them as they keep conversing, they polish off the bottle of Aggregio before the hour ends and Marian and Isabela are escorted from receiving their guests to their table at the front of the hall for dinner. Garrett and Fenris sit on opposite sides of the table from each other, not able to continue talking, but they sneak a few glances. Garrett sees Isabela pass Marian a folded bill after they catch Garrett and Fenris in one of their looks, and Marian toasts in Garrett’s direction after that. He laughs, happy to see his sister so happy with Isabela (and glad that their first round of betting as a married couple ended in a draw, with one win each). Even his mother readjusting his shirt and tie before the speeches can’t dampen his good mood.

It’s just a running date, but Garrett has a feeling it’s the start to something wonderful.

[fotiathymos]

do you have trans hcs for any other characters in promare? :0

I do! under cut cause im a TALKER whoops.

uhhh trigger warning that i do talk a bit about transphobia and unsupportive family.

I realize in my last post I didn’t mention it but Gueira and Meis aren’t cis! 

Gueira was born intersex and doesn’t agree to calling himself cis or trans. He is proud to be intersex. (do know this is a fictional character and not all real life people who are intersex agree or disagree with calling themselves cis or trans.)

Gueira uses he/him pronouns but doesn’t strictly dress masculine. Really just a comfy clothes wearer. 

Meis is trans genderfluid. Mostly uses they/them pronouns and has girl days or boy days sometimes where they can be more okay with she/her or he/him. Just leans into a mix usually. Actually doesn’t like being called Gueira’s boyfriend and rather ‘partner’. Gueira says it like a cowboy usually to make Meis giggle.

I do enjoy Ignis being an trans elder. (He is like 55 in my mind not 40 as i think canon states?) Ignis knew Galo was trans upon entering the job but of course did not out Galo to everyone. Galo isn’t secretive about being trans though. When Galo finds out Ignis is trans he cries happy tears and hugs him, making Ignis just a lil uncomfortable but not rejecting the hug.. hes got a reputation Galo.

I always had it in my head that Galo joined Burning Rescue and challenged all their thoughts on gender and etc. Considering they all grew up in a strict propaganda filled city some of them mightve just heard of terms but not thought about it too hard for..reasons. But then Galo comes into the work place being the ‘queer kid’ and wouldn’t take any bullshit. He grew up mostly by themself, discovered things on his own and does still feel that outward pressure to conform (esp with Kray, Galo is the most ‘passing as cis’ as he can be around Kray most times). So I thought mostly about everyone in BR were cis, not all of them straight but cis...bbuuutttt

Galo makes everyone question their thoughts on gender cause Galo is so open about his own and loves helping others. Galo does ‘mask’ themself sometimes and at first joining didn’t go full blown open. But one day Lucia needs a tampon and Galo had one in his bag and Lucia is like ‘um what?’ Galo goes casual and just ‘oh yeah.. i don’t need them anymore but its become habit to carry it around yaknow and you never know when it could come in handy!’

Lucia is the first to question if its okay to be non-binary lesbian, like maybe shes not entirely strictly ‘girl’. She’s loud and proud about being gay, lesbian flag above her desk, talks bout going to lesbian bars and wanting to just hold a girls hand. So she’s the first to feel okay enough to question herself gender wise.

Varys is that guy you might know in life who is just chill about everything. Galo comes out to Varys casually one day and Varys doesn’t linger on it at all. “Trans? Hell yeah! We still going out for bbq? Double hell yeah!” But he’s also a guy you never know whats going on in their head. He just remembers weirdly specific things you say sometimes and comes back at you with them later. Galo mentioned briefly that sunflowers remind him of his mother. Varys mails Galo sunflowers when Galo takes the day off on his mothers bday. Varys also randomly texts Galo ‘hey you know how youre trans, can i be like not always a man?’ 

Remi............................reMI UH. Remi is weird in my head. I feel hes that guy who just makes everything into a TMI or sex joke or just awkwardly flirts with everyone he becomes friendly with. Like just pushes the boundaries cause he thinks were friends now i can do this, without realizing hes over stepped them. That guy who thinks just cause your his friend now we can talk about sex casually. Hes quick to apologize when told off but still. I’m horrible I feel like Remi is that guy who’d consider him getting pegged by his girlfriend means he’s in with the lgbt crowd. He’s cis and comfortable with that and is confused by non-binary identities but won’t insult his coworkers and respect them. Eventually he’ll learn that just cause you are over 18 now, not everything in the world is related to sex. Idk if that made sense or if I threw him under the die-cis-scum buss too hard.

AND THEN THERE IS AINA.

Who... I adore. And even my head canons for her contrast and complement Galo like her story/character in the movie. So....shes trans.

We don’t get info about her family life but I’m assuming her sister raised her by herself and the parents weren’t in the picture. Aina came out to her sister right out of high school. Heris was starting college and working to provide for her and Aina. She flipped out on her and her words were ‘i dont care if youre a girl or a boy but those hormones can be pricey we dont have insurance you cant get surgery your too young, etc etc’ Unsupported in misreading the situation as an inconvenience to money and life and not the actuality of Aina just being herself and wanting to be honest about it. 

Aina gets ignored as her sisters career and life revolves around a sudden job with the Foundation. But Heris has money now. And is “supportive” in giving Aina money. Pays for her HRT, doctor visits, therapy, and then eventually training to be in Burning Rescue. And Heris is adamant that Aina never, EVER tells anyone she’s trans. Sweeps up any possible info about that under the rug. Doesn’t want to be looked at with a bad eye from Foresight. What Heris feels is a safety measure for her family is what Aina sees as shame. Kinda reflecting how Heris in the movie sees that shes doing ‘all this for you, Aina’ only for it to be cruel and harmful directly to Aina.

Aina doesn’t know what drew her to Galo. He’s cute and nice and friendly. Maybe it’s a crush? He understands me and no one ever did. He respects me for me. “Youre you Aina and theres nothing wrong with that.” (I forget the exact quote) The words play in her head for the longest time. She never came out to Burning Rescue for fear, cause Heris said not to, cause its ‘inconvenient’. And suddenly Galo is loud and proud about being trans??? Should she be too?? 

Eventually she confides in Galo. Probably after the Parnassus events. She realizes she doesn’t have a crush and was just not use to someone being nice to her and accepting her. She eventually tells the rest of Burning Rescue. Finds out Ignis knew all along due to paperwork but just once again, Captain isn’t gonna out his team member. 

And then finally during a late night movie sleepover. Galo’s like ‘you know we should hang the trans and non binary flag on the front of the station.’ Lucia goes ‘YEAH a big FUCK YOU to the Foundations normies!!!!’ Aina says ‘we should really run that past Captain first...’ Finally Ignis walks in, tilts down his sunglasses and says ‘I planned for this’ and unveils a flag that just says ‘fight the cis-tem’ and Galo and Lucia SCREAM. Only Galo knew Ignis was trans til that point..

I made a STORY damn.

I hope that wasn’t... too much... thank for reading.... ;u;/

[maryellencarter]

Queer asks copied from @corelliaxdreaming :

1. Is your family accepting? -- Hah. No. My bio-family is not accepting at allllll, so I went and got myself an internet family instead.

2. What is your sexuality? -- Weird. The strongest part of my identity is Aromantic. I seem to be pretty much allosexual, maybe bisexual; most of the people I find myself attracted to are men within a fairly specific category (physically fit to muscular, at least as competent as me, kind, and often a bit dorky; I also have a weakness for clever hands and sexy voices), but the women I'm attracted to cover a much broader range of appearances and personalities. I fall pretty much in the category of the one Tumblr post that said something like "Being bisexual means you're attracted to three specific fictional men and all women", even though the attraction to men... feels... more attraction-y? I'm still really struggling to figure that difference out.

3. What is your gender identity? -- Sort of genderfluid, sort of genderqueer, sort of maybe agnostically agender? I used to ID really strongly as a trans man, and then after a year or so of being accepted, I found myself turning female. I bounced back and forth for a lot of years but seem to have settled down at a point where it doesn't especially matter to me most of the time. Which is a lot more comfortable than hurtling around to different points on the gender spectrum without warning.

4. Favorite color? -- Blue. Royal blue, mostly. That really deep sky blue you get sometimes during the fall. A bunch of really bright colors.

5. When did you find out your sexuality? -- Oh, it's been a process. For a long time I identified as asexual. It took me years to figure out I was actually romance-repulsed, and more years to figure out I had any attraction to women. I'm still sort of confused by that part. Like I mostly just want to look at them being pretty, but I also definitely want to look at their boobs? Maybe touch some boobs? I'm honestly not sure.

6. What do you wish you could tell your past self? -- Oh lord. Sexuality and gender wise? I'm not sure young me could have been hurried along the process of self discovery. I'd really like to tell her she was being abused and gaslighted and that she needed to take her great-aunt's offer of a free ride and major in geology *before* she broke her health, and maybe also tell her she needed a CPAP machine, but she might just think I was a temptation of the Devil. Also I'm not sure if the CPAP machine was an option before Obamacare. Or the psych meds she needed, either.

7. Have you changed labels since realizing you were queer? -- Oh yeah, all over the place. Asexual, trans, genderqueer, biromantic (for about a week), aromantic allosexual bisexual maybe pansexual... some people apparently even count PCOS as an intersex condition, since I have a lot more beard and chest hair than is normal for perisex women, to the point that I always have to explain to a new doctor that I'm not in fact on testosterone, my body just does that. I've never quite felt right claiming the intersex label, but I've tried on a lot of others. I think my header may still say "queer on every conceivable axis".

8. How was your day? -- Um. I got stuck wandering Cracked.com for most of it. Then I drove up to check out my pulmonologist's office, which doesn't *say* they're closed for the pandemic, so I guess I'll go up again on Thursday and poke them about whether my appointment still exists. Then I went and wandered around a very large very dead mall on that side of town, hatched a bunch of pokeymans, then came home and ate some split pea soup.

9. Do you have any queer friends irl? -- I don't have *any* friends irl, and it's kicking my ass. I have like one or two coworkers I could hypothetically hang out with outside of work if we weren't so all-fired busy. But if we're talking "friends I have seen irl at some point", I'm pretty sure they're all queer. They might also be limited to @tigerkat24 and one other person who doesn't use Tumblr, I'm not sure.

10. What's your favorite hobby? -- Probably knitting. It's soft and squishy and brightly colored, and it can be as brainless or as complex as I could possibly want.

11. Who's the best queer icon in your opinion? -- I honestly don't have an opinion. I've always been too far outside the community to figure out whomst the options were.

12. Which pride flags do you like the most design / color wise? -- Pansexual. I'd probably have a lot more pride merch if I IDed as pan, but it just never feels like it fits quite right.

13. Do you wish you could change any pride flags? -- YES. The aro flag is the exact same colors as the agender flag, just in a different arrangement, and it pisses me off because you can't distinguish aro merch from agender merch unless it's specifically flag shaped / has the stripe arrangement. I liked the yellow/orange/green/black aro flag, I found it much more cheerful, but apparently it was too similar to something Rastafarian. But you can't find alloaro flag merch at *all*, even though it has the green and yellow, which I like.

14. Are you openly out? -- Can't really help it, since I legally changed my name to a distinctively masculine one back in the day, and I do not remotely pass as male. So anybody who both sees or hears me and knows my legal name, knows there's *something* queerish going on. (I go by a gender neutral name these days, but haven't yet been arsed to change it legally because it's an entire hassle and a half.)

15. Are you comfortable with yourself? -- Mneh. I'm not *un*comfortable with my gender and sexuality, particularly. Sometimes I wish I could pass as male, sometimes I wish I could have cute cleavage. Sometimes I tie myself in knots with my feelings about women.

16. Do you experience dysphoria? -- I used to, very strongly. It hasn't been very aggressive lately.

17. Bottom, top, or verse? -- *shrugs* I guess I'd be a switch or "verse" because I'm down for whatever.

18. Are you femme, butch, or neither? -- I swing wildly between wishing to present Extremely Butch in a lumberjack style, which is impractical in the Southwest, or wishing to present Extremely Femme but being unable to do so, and tying myself in knots over the inability. (I can't wear femmey shoes due to my stupid feet, I can't have pierced ears as they get infected and the one pair of nice lightweight handcrafted earrings I paid $50 for is gone with the rest of my shit, I'm too lorge to find any nice dresses or be able to like try on prom dresses and stuff, I have a tendency to break jewelry as I'm extremely rough on my possessions... etc.) In practice my gender presentation is Fat Slob. :P

19. Do you bind? -- Not technically, but I do wear cheap sports bras which tend to flatten rather than lift or shape.

20. Do you shave? -- Only by necessity. I shave my face when I remember, because my beard looks extremely douchey and rather like pubes. Occasionally I shave my cleavage if I'm trying to present femmey. I pretty much never shave anything else unless the hair is getting Smelly.

21. If you could date anyone you wanted, who would it be? -- Um. Good question. The thing is, I am fairly strongly romance-repulsed, but I do want and enjoy queerplatonic relationships, so I would draw a distinction here between "dating" someone and being "in a relationship" with them.

22. Are you in a relationship? -- Yes, in fact.

23. Describe your partner. -- @camshaft22 . Um. She's very much the Hobbie to my Wes. She's very snarky and dies a lot and I love her very much.

24. Have you ever dated anyone of the same gender? -- Given that we're both genderfluid, I would say I'm in a relationship with someone of the same gender, yes.

25. Dated anyone of another gender? -- I've never dated or been in a relationship with anyone else, so I guess the answer is no.

26. Tell me a random fact about yourself! -- I always use this one, but I once lived in four different states (mostly non-contiguous) within a calendar month.

27. Do you own any pride flags / merch? -- No. I used to have a whole-ass collection that I added to every Pride, and then I lost all my damn shit and haven't had the heart to start looking again. Well, I have a rainbow necklace Kat sent me which is pretty nice. Can't wear it till my damn sunburn heals, though. :P

28. Have you ever been to a pride parade? -- Yes, when I lived in Bisbee. They have quite an excellent Pride which draws people from as far off as Denver.

29. Any advice to someone who isn't out or is exploring themselves? -- Take your time. It's okay if things change. You don't have to solve yourself all at once. It's more important to find people who will accept whoever you turn out to be.

30. Pineapple on pizza? -- I've honestly never tried it. Part of me feels like I should, in order to develop an opinion, and part of me feels like I'm just as happy being outside of that particular debate.