#i'm not going to get a binder or try voice training or anything

[something-about-sunflowers]

OH.

You ever have a sudden realization for why you feel a certain way about something that actually completely flips those feelings on their head?

I've generally always been pretty sure about what I want out of any kind of gender affirming care I might hopefully get in some nebulous future where that's something I can afford: I want my voice deeper, I'd be delighted by bottom growth, I would like my tits significantly more masculine presenting if not gone completely. I've been ambivalent about the potential for body hair, though I have been much more eager for the possibility of it with more 'ideal transition goals' influence (Look. I want Con O'Neill's gender okay?) in mind.

That said the one thing I've been hesitant about is facial hair? Which is frustrating because it's the one thing that I kind of do have by default? If I don't do anything to it I have noticeable dark wispies on my upper lip and chin (I've kind of suspected for a while that I may have some sort of hormone disorder - I've got other things that lead me to think this too ofc this is just the most easily noticeable - but like. Who's got the money for diagnosing shit like that? Not me, that's for damn sure.) like. T-Boy's First 'Stache kinda deal. It's been my one (mental) sticking point on potentially starting T, to the point where I've argued with myself that I could just do like the trans girls do and get like, what's it called? Electrolysis? Hair removal? Just for that part. But then that adds cost to what I already can't afford and. Like.

I don't think. It. Actually bothers me? I think. I think I'm maybe projecting how I think my mother would react to it? Not even with full on transition in mind but like. How I am now. Like I don't really care how it looks if I don't shave. Hell, I might even like it sometimes? Like a micro-euphoria or something. But my mother is (partially) responsible for my eating disorder. It's completely within the realm of possibility that she would have Something To Say if I just stopped bothering. I don't even think she'd do it on purpose really? Just. Would need to point out the presence of hair on my face and the judgement would be implied. The 'I am pointing this out because it is unusual and I don't think you should look like this' would be implied. She wouldn't need to say it out loud.

And like. The worst of it is? I don't care. I don't care if I do something to myself that she doesn't like or approve of. And. It's hardly as if she's transphobic (Or. Not more-so than the average 'uninvolved in the queer community parent of queer kids' cishet person. Not maliciously so, yknow?) I've got friends she knows are trans - one who she knew through his actual transition process - she's been through the whole 'it's "he", mom' 'oops, he' situation before with relative grace.

But none of those people are her kid. She doesn't see them every day. She knows she didn't raise them and has, at no point in their lives had a say with what they do to themselves. I already came out to her once (Well. I was forced out by my partner at the time's parents, which was. Not fun.) and the thing about that time is? She really didn't have to. Do anything? About that? Except maybe adjust her mental image of who I might wind up marrying some time in the nebulous future. I'm not out to her about any of my Gender Stuff. Because I don't want to have to deal with the 'I just don't understand all of this' because I'm not binary trans (every other trans person she's met has been binary) or 'It would just be easier on everybody if we still called you [deadname] and used she/her' (which, I don't even really have an issue with she/her? I very much prefer they/them but I'm used to she/her and it doesn't bother me to hear it the way hearing my deadname still does).

She doesn't listen to me when I talk about things that actually matter to me. When I talk about shit that she's done that hurts me. Hell, when I tell her she doesn't listen to me she stops listening. I know it'll be a fight if I correct her on my name/pronouns. I know she'll 'forget'. I know when I get emotional about it, because I know I'll get emotional about it, that I'll start to raise my voice (gotta love the struggle with vocal volume regulation huh? I literally can't help it and I barely notice it until someone tells me) and that she'll say 'You're always yelling, I'm not going to listen to you if you yell' and that it's just code for 'I wasn't going to listen anyway because what you have to say isn't important enough for me to try to listen, and you're giving me a convenient excuse to opt out of the blame for that by speaking "too loudly"'.

Anyway. I'm not coming out again until I'm out of this fucking state and living on my own (or at least away from her and the rest of my family).

But I do think, now, I might actually be comfortable with my facial hair/the potential for more pronounced facial hair then too. It's not my problem, it's hers.

[detransition]

from dickevandyke The other day a friend of mine said they hardly even consider me detrans because I "didn't really do anything to detransition". I didn't ask what they meant by that, because they're not really the kind of person I can have that sort of conversation with. I didn't want to have to explain to them why I detransitioned. I didn't want to have to justify finally feeling okay with myself after spending my teenage years being miserable and stressed about being trans.

It's kind of a fascinating mindset, though. I think it gives really wonderful insight as to how their brain works. Like, I stopped taking testosterone. I stopped asking to be referred to by male pronouns. I "came out" as a woman, and I Came Out as a Lesbian after also spending most of my teenage years trying very hard to repress my attraction to women. This person doesn't view that as doing anything. Why?

I imagine it's because I dress fairly masculine - as Butches generally do. I wear still wear, mostly, "boyish clothes". I didn't start wearing make-up. I didn't let my hair grow out long. I haven't done any voice training, or really made an effort to make my voice higher pitched like it was before. I haven't gotten breast implants. I rarely correct people when they call me "sir". I don't need to do any of those things. A stranger calling me "sir" doesn't mean I am not a woman. Not having breasts anymore doesn't mean that I'm not a woman. The point of my detransition was not to turn myself into a stereotype or to dive head-first into femininity.

The point of my detransition was just that I am finally comfortable with myself, just as I am. That doesn't mean that I love my body, but I am okay with it. I am at peace with who I am.

Do I regret getting a mastectomy? Yes. There was no other reason to remove my breasts, they were perfectly fine, they were small and didn't cause me any back pain, I didn't have any medical issues related to them. Do I regret wearing a binder? Absolutely. It has screwed up my ribs and back so severely that I am probably going to be living with chronic pain for the rest of my life. Do I regret going on HRT? Sometimes, sometimes not. Honestly, it didn't really change much for me outside of my voice and making my body hair slightly thicker. Do I regret social transition? Absolutely. I dug myself into such a deep hole of self loathing and repression that it took me three years to finally crawl out of it. So after going through all of that - after putting myself, my body through all of that, why would I want to do it all over again in the opposite direction, when there is absolutely no need for it?

I "didn't do anything to detransition" because I don't need to do anything to be a woman, I just am one. Woman is my natural state. I "didn't do anything to detransition" because I already put my body through three years of cross-sex hormones, five-ish years of binding, and an unnecessary mastectomy which has left me unable to feel most of my chest more than a year post-op. I don't need more unnecessary surgeries or expensive treatments to make myself into a woman, I never really stopped being one. Getting breast implants wouldn't make me more of a woman because I don't need breasts to be a woman. Voice training to make my voice a higher pitch again won't make me more of a woman because a high pitched voice was never what made me a woman in the first place. Wearing make-up, growing out my hair, wearing "girly" clothes wouldn't make me more of a woman, because femininity does not make a woman.

I didn't argue with them when they said that because, to be honest, I don't want to hear what they think makes a woman. I don't want to hear them trying to justify why they barely consider me detrans because I have not tried to turn myself into a feminine stereotype. It just really struck a chord with me, because if I'm not really detrans to them, am I really a woman to them? Or do they see me as some kind of "failed" woman because despite explicitly and openly accepting my womanhood, I am not their picture of what a woman is suppose to be?

thinking of detransition? you are not alone

[manicpixiedreamguy]

The trans man's guide to singing (on T and other things)

Introduction:

First things first: I am a trans man on HRT who's studying to become a professional singer (not opera lmao, I'm studying modern singing) and all the information I'm providing comes from my personal experience and what my current teacher, who's been teaching me since I started T, taught and told me during my voice change. This is directed towards people who want to go professional because, again, that's my personal experience, but if you're reading this because you like singing as just a hobby, most of what I'll be talking about applies to you too. I might overexplain things because I want this whole thing to be understandable to everyone, including people who barely know what vocal cords and the diaphragm are; on the same note, I hope I don't end up sounding condescending and if I do, just know that's not my intention at all. I won't be saying anything about pre-T voice training because I never did that and giving the wrong advice when it comes to these things can lead to serious damage to people's vocal cords and throats, so this is strictly a singing through and after a voice change post.

The Basics:

The first thing you have to do is talk to your teacher and explicitly tell them everything about your situation (this applies to anyone, cis or trans: you've worn a back brace during your whole childhood? Tell them. You've had any kind of surgery on your nose? Tell them, and so on; they'll probably ask anyway). I know it can be hard and even scary when you're trans, but if you don't do it you won't achieve your goals; I remember going to another teacher when I was a semi-closeted teenager without disclosing I wanted to work more on my lower register and it made my dysphoria so much worse that I just quit after a few months and didn't try taking singing lessons again for years. And being straightforward helps with both finding a good teacher and finding a safe and positive environment by avoiding bigots (sad, but true). Being honest with your teacher is also crucial because when it comes to singing, it's very important to find positions that feel comfortable and don't physically hurt your throat and vocal cords (or any other body part that's involved in singing) in order to not train your muscle memory on movements that are detrimental for your body, and while no one can find them for you, you need to tell your teacher when something your muscles are doing hurts or feels uncomfortable. Singing is almost like doing sports as the vocal cords are muscles that can and do get hurt, and adopting the wrong positions can result in a less than ideal performance at best and in injury at worst. I can't really help with this though, because I can't tell someone else how to move their own body and how to flex their own muscles and I am not a teacher, I can just tell you to take it slow and that when something's right you'll feel it and when something's wrong you'll also feel it. And remember that something not working for you doesn't make you a failed singer or anything like that, it just means you haven't found what works for you yet.

Singing while wearing a binder:

I wanted to start with this first because I think it's very important. Back in the day I've read posts on the Internet saying you should not sing while wearing a binder and while I do get where those posts are coming from, not everyone can afford to not wear one, myself included (before getting my top surgery last year). At first I tried going to my singing lessons with a sports bra under a loose flannel shirt (that kind of pattern, along with checkered patterns, helps hiding curves) but honestly it sucked as I felt too dysphoric, so I had to come up with a solution. At the time I happened to have an older, more stretched out looser binder that I decided to relegate to the role of singing binder because it didn't do its job properly anymore as an every day binder, but if worn with looser shirts in warm weather and layers in cold weather, it was perfect for singing. It still hid my chest fairly well and wasn't as constrictive as a newer and tighter binder would have been. One important thing to keep in mind is that while wearing a binder your ribcage doesn't have as much freedom as it would have without one and while that does suck, don't beat yourself up if you notice that it's difficult to do some things. I've sung while wearing a binder for most of my life and you can make it work, it just takes time and patience. If you can/want to, you can just not wear anything underneath your shirt to sing, but personally I tried doing that like once and felt awful. And if you wear tape, I guess that would be the best option; I never figured out how to wear it so I have no experience with it, I watched video tutorials and stuff but for me it never worked and I still don't know what I did wrong, but if you do wear it, try going with that.

Singing after top surgery:

I'm sorry for what I'm about to say, but after top surgery you'll have to forget how you sang while wearing a binder and start learning (almost) all over again because it's a whole 'nother story: your posture will be better and your ribcage will be more free, making you able to hold notes for longer and breathe in more air, which means you'll have to do some adjustments. First things first, you'll have to wait at least a month after your surgery to sing again (that's what my surgeon told me but you should still talk to yours, even though I'd say that as long as you'll have to wear the post surgery tight thing I forgot the name of you should avoid singing) and you'll have to take things slow. I got my surgery in August 2023 and I'm still (re)learning stuff, so be patient because it's worth it, my ribcage feels so much better now and my posture has improved, making singing overall better and easier. The most important rule when it comes to singing is listen to your body. If something feels weird or wrong, stop, figure out (with your teacher if you're taking lessons) why it feels like that and try to fix it (again, with your teacher); don't push yourself too far/too hard, otherwise you could get hurt. This applies to singing with a binder, singing after surgery, and just singing in general. Trans, cis, doesn't matter: listen to your body. I can't say anything more about this because everyone's different so I don't think I should be giving tips as what works for me might not work for you, you have to figure it out yourself. Having a teacher helps and there are some things that are pretty much universal, but their body is not your body and there are multiple ways to do the same thing based on each individual's preferences, needs, and bodies.

Can I/should I take singing lessons while my voice is still changing?

Yes, it's actually recommended! I've already said it here, but a couple months before going on HRT I found out through another trans man singer's website that taking singing lesson during your voice change helps a lot, both with your technique and with your voice is general. For your technique, it's beneficial because otherwise you'd end up with a completely different and untrained voice all of a sudden, making it harder to get back into singing and harder to find new positions that work for you, and for your voice in general, it just make the change easier. I have recordings of me singing and talking that I made each month as my voice change progressed and while my singing voice was a mess, some months literally changing every week (not necessarily going lower and lower each time, one week I'd be a baritone and the week later I'd be a tenor for some reason, then back to baritone and so on), my speaking voice rarely cracked. No idea if it's related to me taking singing lessons since the beginning but I'm saying this regardless just in case. For reference, I started T on August 4, 2021 (on this exact same day three years ago!) and started taking singing lessons the following month, so I've basically trained my voice during its entire journey.

Oh no, my voice change is a mess!

Worry not! It's totally normal and there will be lots of adjusting to do and what works for one week or one month or any other period of time probably won't work anymore as your voice keeps changing (especially when trying to switch from your regular voice to your falsetto, as your muscle memory was trained to switch at/on a different range), that's frustrating but, again, normal so don't panic if a position you adopted for a few weeks suddenly doesn't work anymore and you'll end up sounding like a hairdryer with no sound coming out of your mouth. Actually, sometimes what my teacher and I call the hairdryer effect isn't even a matter of positions, sometimes during your voice change you just won't have some specific notes and your voice will break instead but again don't panic, the notes will come eventually. While my voice did drop pretty fast, it took me around two years to finally get a full range (in my case the missing notes were exactly in between my regular register and my falsetto register, making switching between the two a pain; I think it's actually how it is for everyone in general but I'm not sure as I am just me y'know). Also my teacher told me most guys' voices will drop very low for a while and then stabilize themselves on a higher speaking range and while it kinda didn't happen to me according to her due to me being a bass-baritone and my voice stabilizing itself on a much lower speaking range, that's the average experience. Anyway don't worry, your lower notes aren't gone, you still have them but you'll have to work a little more than you used to to hit them.

Figuring out your range and type:

I'll have to tell you about voice types, ranges and classifications first. There are many different voice type classification systems, none of which universally applied (music is messy), so I'll go with the basic operatic six types one that I grew up with and that most people use. From highest to lowest: soprano, mezzosoprano (also known as just mezzo), contralto, tenor, baritone, bass. Those are the main groups, but there are subcategories as well, such as countertenor (sometimes considered a main group for some reason, no shade though) and bass-baritone (my voice type! 👋). If your voice's done changing or if you are pre-T, figuring out your range and type will be quite easy but if your voice is still changing, don't worry about it, you'll just have to check what it's up to from time to time until it'll be done and it'll settle on its final range and type (me and my deep ass voice had to go through almost the entire male range spectrum in like a year and a half so I'm speaking from experience here). An important thing to know is that pitch isn't everything as there are many other characteristics that together define and categorize a person's voice, and that voice range and voice type are two separate things as well; your vocal range doesn't define your voice type on its own because voice types are more about where you feel more comfortable singing rather than what notes you can hit (which is what defines the range of one's voice). To have an idea of what you'll probably sound like after your voice's done changing, you have to see what you sound like pre-T. The length of the vocal cords plays a huge role in this: the longer the vocal cords are, deeper the voice is; testosterone puberty results in elongated vocal cords, so if you've always had longer vocal cords like in my case, your voice will be on the lower end of the spectrum. As I just said, I had a pretty low voice pre-T, as I was a contralto as a preteen (I sang in a choir from age nine to twelve, started as a mezzo but then my voice started dropping around eleven years old), and therefore have a pretty low voice now, as I am a bass-baritone (a subtype of both the baritone and the bass types; the term refers to a lower baritone or a higher bass that can sing both and I am a lower baritone but usually sing bass because it's more physically comfortable for me), because I have long vocal cords and that's it; and while there aren't many studies about the exact role of genetics in the developing of the human voice, I sound eerily similar to my father so here's that.

Don't think that starting T sooner would have given you a deeper voice because I started it at twenty and while I acknowledge that's still fairly young, my first puberty was (sadly) already done and yet my voice is deeper than most cis men's (both statistically and anecdotally speaking). You can start whenever and it won't impact how your voice turns out. And if you're thinking about starting to smoke to make your voice lower: don't. I'm a former smoker myself and while I don't make a fuss about people smoking because I'm European, it's just counterproductive from a logical standpoint. Though one thing about singers is that, just like doctors, we smoke; when you meet a singer there's a high chance they're a smoker and if they aren't there's a high chance they used to be, no idea why. Anyway, don't smoke because it's not worth ruining your voice and lung capacity over and it's also not recommended at all while on testosterone (I smoked very little, like a few cigarettes every two weeks or sometimes even once a month, and my endocrinologist still told me to quit because my blood tests were a little messed up because of that). While it's best to go to a professional, there are YouTube videos that illustrate how to find your vocal range if you want to do that on your own or only plan to sing as a hobby, so I won't say anything about that. What I will say though, is that you should warm up first (always warm up first at least a little no matter what you do, especially if you plan to sing in the morning; even just talking out loud for a while can count as warming your voice up) and if you want to find out your range on your own please use the aforementioned YouTube videos, I've watched and even used a few back in the day and they'll tell you exactly how to do things right, don't just start belting out note after note until your voice is straining and uncomfortable because you'll get hurt (I want to make clear, as I've mentioned the possibility of getting hurt in the previous paragraphs, that getting hurt when it comes to singing ranges from having a bit of a sore throat for a while because you didn't drink water before performing to permanently ruining your voice and losing parts of your range because you tried metal screaming with no training so yeah, be careful).

Useful exercises:

In my experience the most useful exercises to do during a voice change are interval slides with the classic, iconic brrr (that I had to look up the name of because I swear no one, not even one singer, in human history has ever called it by its proper name: lip roll; I'm leaving the brrr thing instead of editing it out because it's funny) and some basic hear it and sing it. Also my teacher and I found out, during a phoniatrician check-up I did while my voice was still changing, that singing big jumps between notes helps a lot, even though I have no idea why. Basically, get a piano or keyboard (here's a link for a virtual piano if you need it), play random notes, and sing; it's important for you to switch between your modal (what I've been referring to as "regular" in this post) register and your falsetto register. I suck at explaining things, but this is what you have to do: play one note, sing it, then play the next, and so on. Additionally, I went through my text conversations with my teacher back when my voice was at the beginning of its journey and found the links to three videos we used a lot at the time, so here they are: this 10 minute vocal warm up, some beginner bass vocal warm ups, and some other bass-baritone vocal warm ups. If you go through these channels you'll find other exercises for other voice types and ranges as well. I recommend using jazz singer Judy Niemack's recordings (playlist linked in the above paragraph) because those are the one I used and still use. Your range and voice type don't really matter, you can either harmonize with her or sing in your comfortable range (in tune!) (or not in tune if you're doing this as a hobby I guess, I'm a singer not a cop) (but ear training is fundamental if you want to go professional, so: in tune!).

Alright I think I explained pretty much everything, but if you have questions don't hesitate to ask! I'll be more than happy to answer.

[dogfags]

Do you have any passing tips for being stealth?

I Do but I don't want to get cancelled for encouraging passing culture or whatever but if u rly wanna know here lmao:

Disclaimer: these tips are just what have helped ME, I'm only speaking for myself and what I have observed works for me. I am a very androgynous person, I don't pass as male without trying. These tips are for people who probably haven't been on T for 8 years but probably have been on T a bit and kind of teeter the edge between passing and not. You don't have to pass to be valid yadda yadda whatever but some people want to pass and be stealth and this is for those people.

I wouldn't dream of trying to be stealth pre top surgery just bc it would have been impossible for me but there are ways to conceal binders in day to day. I'm stealth at cosmetology school and we have a very strict dress code and I wouldn't even be able to wear anything that would show a binder or that I've had surgery. So stick to clothes that cover you up - men's cut T shirts and long sleeves. I wear turtlenecks a lot bc I just personally like them but they also add a bit more coverage than a typically cut shirt.

You will probably be perceived as a queer/gay man. And (statistically speaking) you're probably into men anyway. Lean into it a bit. I don't mean act overly flamboyant or anything but people overlook feminine behaviors and traits in a man they perceive as gay. I'm dating a man so it's easy for me to just say "my partner" or "my boyfriend" to make it clear - if you're straight this is a bit difficult bc you will most likely at LEAST have people assume you're gay just due to the "feminine" behaviors you were taught your entire life. In that case you kind of have to work to unlearn those. A lot of how people perceive your gender has to do with your mannerisms.

Idk about you but I'm short af and always thought it would be a huge hindrance to passing. But it's not really! I wear platform doc martens which gives me a couple inches boost and there are insoles that can bump you up a bit too. It's not necessary though, men can be short.

Do voice training. A lotttt of trans men overlook this and think it's only necessary for trans women. No! You need to voice train if you want to pass. Stop speaking in that customer service voice too, ESPECIALLY to other men. I'd just look up voice training videos and practice on your own and then slowly implement it into daily life. It really changed the way not only how people perceive my gender but also the amount of respect other men give me. Which is sad but it's part of the game.

You will likely look younger than you are. One way to combat this is with clothing choices and hairstyles that flatter you. Don't choose a longer fluffy haircut that will make you look boyish. Choose something short on the sides and longer on the top, maybe with a fade but definitely with clippers. You can get this cut at any barbershop or salon - it's the first kind of haircut for men that they teach. Avoid unnatural colors in your hair. You can spice it up with coloring your hair for sure but I wouldn't go for bright pink or blue. (This was sad to give up for me but damn near a necessity if you want to pass. I am however just as happy with black hair with a blonde streak.)

High emphasis on the haircut. I see so many trans men get extremely feminine cuts and colors and then complain that they don't pass. Your hair is very important in how people perceive your gender. Study the difference between a pixie and a men's cut and don't dance the line. Avoid shaving your head bald - it exposes your whole face and skull shape which is also something people look at to determine gender. Get something short and masculine, think square not round shapes.

Just don't wear makeup. I know you think it helps to contour and darken your eyebrows but it doesn't. Everyone can tell it isn't natural and men rarely ever wear makeup. You may be able to get away with it in a setting like mine (cosmetology school or being a literal makeup artist) but otherwise it's only hindering your ability to pass. If you want darker eyebrows/facial hair consider dyeing it with just for men facial dye.

If you can grow facial hair, do. It's a game changer in passing. People will very rarely see someone with a mustache and think "woman." (Not to say this doesn't happen, it does, but less.) If you can't grow facial hair, don't draw it on for the love of god. I made this mistake for a while of putting makeup on the vellus hair above my lip to make it appear like a mustache and that shit looks ridiculous. Just shave it clean if it's not full enough to be an actual mustache. I myself have a really thin mustache but it's enough that it immediately signals to others that I'm a man. You can use rogaine on the face to grow more facial hair - I did this and can attest that it works. (Just be careful if you have cats, it's toxic to them.)

Last thing I'll say, is be wary of your clothing choices. You can wear some feminine things if you make up for them in other ways. For example, I love high waisted pants. I refuse to wear other pants. Therefore my pants are usually found from the women's section or I wear oversized men's pants at the waist instead of at the hip. This creates a feminine silhouette but I counteract it by wearing a baggy top that falls over the waist, covering it, OR tucking the shirt in and allowing it to be loose at the point where it tucks in (if that makes sense?) Basically think rectangle and triangle shapes instead of curvy round ones for clothes. Try to create a silhouette that slims the hips down. Also, wear clothes that fit! Don't oversize everything (I'm guilty of this sometimes but try to balance out the bottom and top halves). Oversized clothing is still better than very tight clothing that will show everything but it makes you look shorter and more round and we're trying to achieve rectangle/triangle. When I gained 40 lbs I had to really deep dive into plus size men's fashion and find all new ways to dress myself bc I was so used to being skinny and being able to wear anything I wanted while still looking masculine bc I had no curves lol. T has changed my fat distribution a Little Bit, but I still very much have hips and an ass on me and I combat this with loose, straight leg pants and a shirt that falls over the top of the butt (aka don't wear crop tops, they aren't helping you.) But yeah! You'd be surprised at how much you can do with masculine clothing. People often say masc style is "boring" but it's totally not! I love Pinterest for finding outfit inspo. You can also incorporate feminine pieces into an overall masculine outfit and get away with it if you know what you're doing.

So yeah!! Those are my tips. Hope they help someone :') I'm new to living stealth and it's kinda scary at first, you do have to subtly lie about your life sometimes. But overall I'm much happier this way and my dysphoria has drastically decreased.

[the-official-account]

Episode 18 liveblog YIPEE!

Fewer opening notes on this one. I'm gonna attempt liveblogging AND drawing at the same time, let's see how that goes. I'm currently feeling very smug with my advertisement efforts and while I hope to get to spar and vellum today I realized I made Anya kinda thin and that feels...not right for her vibes. So I'm doing Anya again...that's my excuse JGLDKDHDIS she's so...she's like a purse sized friend

Anyways, beginning of this i was not in front of my art tablet so:

"we come as a pair" haha. Cute.

Cloven heart said OUR little brother figure [bugs bunny com meme]

Scientist with a radio tower.....max.....hm. interestinger an interestinger

Yeah josepha you might be the only person in town who wants cloven heart to be the "center" of anything. Why not sindershore? She already works....idk, there? Or in v.n

Vellum just pulls out the papers lmao. Like why not!

Max came up with the schematics... Did max disappear? Yeah. Hm. HM!

Josepha used to be a woodworker? Was I remembering that right or did my brain just make this up.

"We would talk to Thorne" 😬

MAX WHAT

THEIR NAME WAS MAX WHAT?

Did grey have like....a really shitty alias? How old was max??? Fifteen days ago.... Hmmm.

Vellum would know if his uncle was out of town for like 2 and a half months if there was overlap and it took like a day or half a day of a train ride to get back and forth. It's unlikely vellum wouldn't connect those dots

"I was on drugs when I named it I will be honest".josepha is SO good. She's lovely. She's so funny. Oh my god.

"This may not be to your taste of perhaps it is I do not know how you party vellum" NFOSBDKSHDO

"THINK I COULD ROCK THOSE"

"I ALSO DONT KNOW HOW YOU PARTY AGENT VELLUM"

Trying not to burst out laughing in public this is a struggggllleeee

"The belt has 3 slots for arcane cores" I would rather we not go looking for bombs.... But yk. Queer people have plenty of odd hobbies who am I to judge

Okay but like short distance teleportation for someone with a bad leg is a pretty banger deal

"Sometimes you wake up one day and you're retired" In THIS economy?

Also I'm mentioning this out of order bc this episode is being funny faster than I can type, but (I say this with all of the respect) was vellums "I'm sure I'll find other use for you" sultry or was that just Ila's voice? HFOSHSKSBSOS

Spar sounds so depressed. Give this sheep dog some enrichment!

Vellum being like 'Hey you're good we still need to find some more bombs!' he is in fact giving spar some enrichment

"Waiting for this boat and seemingly intent on returninf to clovenheart"

I just squinted with SO much suspicion that that would be diamond

"Is Brunhilde!!!" Dksgsud ok

"Do you say hi to your mom as you're pretending to arrest the chick you dated who you invited into her home on grounds of a repeat assault?" My god

Spar is ~5'8 tati is 5'3 very good to know

~ many hours later, now doing art stuff~

Vellum could fall on this face and STILL look cool

Anya spar and vellum having a snack has gotta go on my to-draw list (my mind is so fast and my hands are so not fast! Ahh!)

OH NEW MIDTRO isk if this was here last episode. OH SHITFUN FACTS? i love blorbo facts

he has written a SYMPHONY? The essentricism is genetic i think.... a smphony baout YEARNING FOR BELONGING? you are handing me a fic idea. NOTE: symphony driven by loss and isolation over being trans, having lost his parents, wanting to find a place where he's accepted

Smooth velvet is his stripper name this episode is just raining fic ideas, huh? (i am joking but also I am not joking. BUt im joking but im not joking....I am deciding if im joking)

DONT BE MEAN TO ISHBALA (spell chat tdb) SPAR!!!!!!

DONT BE MEAN TO GREGGINS EITHER!!! LJKSAFHGLKAHFGLAKSG

greggins binder generator.

[not episode related but im battling between having sincere thoughts about Anya's fashion sense and going "ooooh belly"]

I FEEL LIKE THIS IS PROBLEMATIC AND YOU'RE GONNA GET CANCELLED AND HERE'S WHY

ALSDHGLKASDHGASKGFASGD MY SWORDS A GHOST NOW OHHHH MY GOD I LOVE THEM

SEKITAN WAS A VICTIM....WOAH.......WOOOOAH.

ALTERATION RESISTANT BLOOD? HOOOOLY SHIT. WOAH. WOAH. WAOH MAN. WOW. FUUUUCK. i dont evne......

anya said hey your uhhhh. Your uhh special friend is little stressed. go makeout of whatever. THEY'RE WALKING ARM IN ARM LMAOOOO

ishbala just chose violence SO unprompted

[anya is drawn now for spar and vellum iterations i am...........Well to be fair i am Never very confident going in and it walways turns out okay!!!]

"*he puts a gun in vellums hands* its goot to know you're with someone who can protect you." s;aldfalsfdjaw awhhhhhhhhh!!!!!! SPAR DOESN'T GET PROTECTED SPAR IS ALWAYS THE ONE JUMPING IN FRONT OF THE BULLET DO YOU KJNOW HOW MUCH THIS MEEEEEEEANS TO ME?????

"when you got a good one you keep em" thats it thats spar

spar is correcting vellums stance and vellum must be SCREAMING inside lmao. Vellum focuses SO HARD on everything BUT spar directly behind him and accidentally becomes an expert

ARE THEY ALSO IMPRESSED BY THE SEXUAL TENSION

vellum, full on titanicking it with spar is trying VERY hard to respect boundaries and that is my FAVORITE kind of tension. "I am not making moves because i respect you as a person" is never not entertaining

STOP JUMPSCARING ME WITH THIS FUCKING KISSES I GASPED TOO HARD AND CHOKED ON MY SPIT HOLY FUCK. HOOOLY FUCK.

ughhhhh drawing kisses is such a pain but FUCK do i wanna.

oooh this new outro is so fancy!!!! i love the format changes that are happening here!

im torn between doing another episode tonight and saving it for tomorrow so I can focus fully on drawing.......ill feel out the vibes after i get spar's jaw right. LOVELY episode. spar is making moooooooves!!!!

@threeheartscast i almost forgot!

[luffythinker]

You've brought on the side of me that enjoys sidecharacters so fkcing much!! I love Sero! glad hes a topic here can I raise you a Sero is trans and hes scared too death but he tells Kirishima about it and hes super supportive and that's one of the things he kinda started falling in love with him about? He sat him down and explained to him. "Manlyness doesnt mean you have to be a dude ya know? Manlyness is like, embracing yourself and you telling me this was so manly I'm glad you told me your the manly dude I know bro." And that just kick Sero right in his heart cause Sero never thought of himself manly in any kind of way hes just weirdly shape enough to pass as a boy in a binder but he doesnt have a binder so he uses tape TO WHICH WHEN MINA FINDS OUT SHES ALL OVER IT Denki let's him use his he has two in his backpack.

Fucking Bakugo even will go buy him one just so he doesnt have to watch be out of breath all the time he says cause it really scared him one time Sero passed out swinging on his tape and it clicked in his head when he knew he wasnt binding safely

Bakugo also has a binder btw. Kirishima calls them binding buddies he doesnt need one but he supports his bros no matter what. Sero used to be jealous of kirishima having what he doesnt but that's okay now it's all okay when he told him about it kiri just apologized cause he didnt know what else to say. He probably said something like. "If I could take my man-ness and give it to you I would. Does that make you feel better?" And they both just laughed.

Kiri never even knew about all these things until his friends told him about them he knew so little when he was talking to Denki one day he wondered why he was so out of breath because I feel like Denki would train with his on which is a nono but Denki likes to feel secured at all times and Kiri goes. "Are you wearing one of those um, chest things? Bakugo told you not to do that Denks, please be careful."

JUST THEM these kids 😭😭😭

OKAY OKAY I LOVE THIS SO MUCH

before we even get into the ship, can I just say I think kiri would be the best trans ally ever, i can just SEE him give a speech that makes transmascs feel so manly and so seen, because kiri knows that there are so many different ways of being a man/manly and he is just the best boy ever, he also makes fun of transphobes idc how kind he is, he will not tolerate bigotry!!

I can totally see why sero would fall for him after this, personally, i would like to think he already had a crush but was a bit insecure but after this moment he like fell really hard and anybody could see it, except kirishimajkfdkjdfj

the bakusquad is so supportive, they all did some research on how to help denki and sero, what tips to give, and what's the best hormonal therapy, they are prepared for anything now !

yk those cute videos some trans men do to show the progress of their voice after starting on T? yeah kiri remembers sero every month to take one so they can check his progress together and they both get so happy when it goes a little deeper!!

(also it's just as valid to not take any hormones, this is just a personal headcanon for this scenario)

i love when yall make any character trans cause yes!! any pairing can be t4t if we try enough!

[yarbz]

cowardly game of rival — n.jaemin ( f )

synopsis!

 ━ as the girl’s football team captain, you were used to the endless derogatory taunts, the wolf-whistling, the attempts at romance being boys telling you what they thought of barcelona’s starting XII. na jaemin fell into all those catergories, a detestable flea in your hair. as sworn enemies, there was not even an inkling of romance, and you were convinced that your attraction to him was ONLY physical. weren’t you?

pairing ━ na jaemin x female!reader

word count ━ 6k

genres ━ fluff, rival!au, football!au, comedy, romance, very little of the football game is described in detail.

warnings ━ profanity, football terms, dirty jokes, y/n and jaemin are literally just cowards

( author's note! )

this one came to mind when i thought of how i love female footballers and decided that jaemin would be the idiot in question to chicken out of confessing to their crush by being an ass instead. i really hope you like it !! other notes are sissoko is the name of like three different players and a cracker is slang for a really good goal.

Football.

A sport of creatively insane wits, fancy footwork and incoherent celebrations. Those were all the things you loved about it, along with the ridiculously cute uniform.

It provided you an escape from the man's world, a chance to carve out your own story, free from the shackles of stereotypes. At least, that's what you'd initially thought.

Unfortunately, the boy's football team made it their sole objective in life to demean you. As captain, you took on the strenuous task of refusing to resort to physical violence when a stupid comment about your short length was made or when boys assumed you couldn't tell your Sissoko's apart (you could, quite well actually).

You had taken it as a sign of war, and refused to comment on their pathetic sneers. You did, however, feel as if Na Jaemin made a blood pact or something to be a parasite towards you.

He stood at the cusp of six foot, towering over you like an evergreen beanstalk, cheshire-cat like smile taunting you. Chocolate colour tresses fell over his eyes in straight lines, shielding his forehead.

It's not like you paid attention to his visage, but even you had to admit in your spite that he was attractive. And horribly so.

Today started like every other, going to your locker before heading to your homeroom. Luckily, you'd managed to get there before the freshmen started to pile in. Being a senior had its positives along with its various faults, one of them being the early access you got to the school.

You jammed your key in the lock, flinging open the locker door, making quick work of exchanging your books. In your fast-paced stupor, you didn't notice the figure leaning behind the door. You slammed the door shut, nail catching an patch of skin, scraping it.

"If you wanted me to leave, you could've been less catty." The voice wheedled, throwing a withering glare in your direction. You rolled your eyes, annoyed, arms crossed across your chest.

"Jaemin." You sighed, rubbing your temples. "Why are you hiding behind my locker? Are you looking for a death wish?"

He sat up slowly, soothing his reddening nose, suddenly regaining his smile as he leaned closer towards your face. "If I was looking for a death wish, I'd eat whatever food you just stuffed in there."

"Fuck off. Don't see you making any gourmet meals."

"I'm the gourmet meal." He slithered, breath fanning your nose. From this distance, you could see the wonder swimming within his eyes, breath caught in your throat.

Damn, he was too fine.

You tore your gaze from his eyes, "And yet, I don't feel inclined to taste it." He jumped back in surprise, eyes widening, giving you an opening to dash. Chuffed that you left him speechless, you walked towards your next class, resisting the urge to turn back to revel in his awe-struck face.

Jaemin's eyebrow quirked in curiosity, crooked smirk hanging from his lips. He watched you stalk away, cursing underneath his breath softly. You carried a fiery aura around you, burning him with every snarky remark — even though it beat him bruised ghastly lavenders, he could bear to play with fire if it meant you would pay him attention.

You see, Jaemin did not hate you as per say. The 'hate' which you believed in was merely his inability to profess his affections towards you. For lack of a better word, he was a coward.

A dashingly handsome one, but a fragile, chicken-legged coward all the same.

You'd made it to class in record time, ego bared boldly on your shoulders, attracting the curious eyes of your best friends Yangyang and Donghyuck. Both were terrorists in their own right, but you couldn't help loving them all the same. Sure, they came as a dreadful pair, but love had decided to shackle your heart to them.

"What's got you so happy? Jaemin finally drop dead?" Yangyang joked, shifting to make space for you. Headband strapped to the pinnacle of his forehead, he grinned at you from beneath the base of stretchy ebony material.

"No..not yet." You hummed, sad lilt to your tone.

"Awh, didn't kill him yet?" Donghyuck teased, nudging Yangyang in their laughter. "I think it must be love stopping you from committing the crime yourself." You shoved both, peals of laughter tickling your throat at their whines of pain.

"If you don't shut up, I'll be killing you two instead, never mind Jaemin." You snapped. "Love is what I feel when I score a cracker from the halfway line. Seeing Jaemin makes me want to jump out of the nearest window."

"Are you sure it's not just unresolved sexual tension? I, too get antsy when I haven't jacked off—"

"Finish that sentence and you'll have no arms."

"I'm flexible enough to suck myself off." Yangyang mused, "You'll never stop my libido."

"You're disgusting." You and Donghyuck said in sync, swatting his grabby hands from flying at your shoulders. Quite frankly, you didn't want to hear about his freakishly boneless limbs, or his untameable sex drive, nor hear anything about his genitals at all.

"Does that count as self—"

"Yes, it does. Please don't be telling people that I'm your friend, or that you can do that. It's not a little icebreaker."

Friendship with these two had crossed all sorts of personal boundaries you didn't know existed, and it was starting to decompose you, like a rotting piece of cabbage infested by slugs, yet still hanging on for the glimpse of sunlight to regenerate.

Okay, so you were being dramatic. But, that didn't explain their dire need to over share certain aspects of their lives with you.

"Doesn't change the topic at hand —Did you get my pun?" He asked, looking for Donghyuck's reaction.

"I did. Not going to comment on it before she breaks my arms. Just know I enjoyed it very much."

"If I wanted to mess around with Jaemin, I'd put my hand in a beehive. It'd sting less." You snarled, slamming down your books. They winced comically, faces alert as the teacher walked into the class.

Apart from football, you enjoyed learning — how to make things, break things, self defense, people skills, and education fell not too far from that. Classes like biology interested you greatly, which is why you found yourself fully immersed in the process of respiration.

Your mind drifted for a second, thinking back to what he'd said. Was it actually sexual tension? Did you actually bare an emotion other than loathing towards him? Then, you thought of that face and how you'd want to do nothing more than break his pretty little nose—

Yeah. There it was. You were normal after all.

School had come to her daily dreadful end, and you were happily striding into the ladies' changing rooms for football training. Nobody had gotten here yet, luckily.

You glanced over into the full body mirror, tugging at your shorts until they fell just above the bump of your knee, pulling your sock midway at your calf. Lean abs shone underneath the dim light, and you proudly paraded around the room, happy to be alone.

A knock on the door came, and you swung the door open with a feverish excitement. "Who is it?"

"Didn't take me as a bra kinda girl. Was thinking more spandex or a binder." Jaemin seethed, hands on hips, azure jersey hanging off his lithe frame.

"You're insufferable. Why are you here?" You groaned, choosing to ignore his taunt at your breast size. His eyes crinkled into upside down crescents, wandering lower to the dip of your frilly black bra.

"To see my favourite girl, of course." He whistled, eyes still glued to your unmarked expanse of skin. "I think those need a new owner." He pointed towards your chest.

"Preferably one whose face I can stand to look at."

"I'm roaring with laughter." You snarked, voice dripping with sarcasm, making no attempt to cover yourself up. Jaemin was still staring, face flushed a flaming cerise. "You gonna keep staring or are you gonna leave me alone?"

"I'm not staring. Why are you staring at me?" He shot defensively. Your eyes narrowed at him, watching his cheeks darken with every lingering stare.

"You're in the girl's changing room, drooling over two lumps of fat on the body of a girl that you hate. The real inquisition here is your lack of sensibility to stop thirsting after anything with a vagina."

Jaemin stayed silent, eyes boring holes into your full lips, tongue instinctively darting out to wet his own nimble, chapped ones. Rolling your eyes, you lead him to the door, hand clasped against the door handle.

Then, you heard loud footsteps approaching the room, incoherent rambling increasing in clarity. You began to conjure up a plan, wondering how on Earth you'd be able to kick Jaemin out without the girls knowing.

With the shouts of the team gradually getting closer, you panicked, chucking Jaemin into a locker.

"Fine, I'll leave! Lemme out!" He squirmed, trying to come out of the metal confines.

"You can't leave now, they're literally outside. Do you want to be stomped to death by Nike Mercurials?" You hissed, closing the door over, much to his protests.

"Don't wanna die with the last image being your breasts."

"If you survive this, I'll gladly provide you a new image."

He shut up at that, and you straightened, reaching for your jersey in a false calmness. The girls burst in, squeals of various greetings being thrown across the room.

You smiled gently at them, encouraging them to get changed, joining in to laugh at their jokes. The topic kept shifting from manicures to new boots before finally settling on Na Jaemin.

"Cap'n, what's going on with you and Jaemin?" One of the girls asked, batting her eyelashes softly. "A boy on the football team told me that you guys are dating."

Dating..that devil? A sin punishable by death! You repelled all instinct to shudder in disgust, instead choosing to maintain a neutral expression.

"I am absolutely not dating Na Jaemin. He's a despicable little mongrel and I'd rather eat my shoe—"

"Mon bébé chérie, why do you curse me like this?" Jaemin squeezed from the locker, voice like a wounded puppy.

"Did you hear that? I think it was—"

"No! It's my Jaemin impression. Isn't it so good?" You spluttered, voice rising in volume. You were sure that your face was a painful beetroot, breathing crazily as you over-exerted yourself.

"Cap'n, it was so good I almost thought Jaemin was in here with us!" She gushed, hands clasped. "You guys would be so cute together. Even if you don't like him, I think he most definitely has feelings for you."

The rest of the girls joined in at this, shouts of 'you should take a chance!' resounding in the hollow room. You'd already ruled out that as a possibility, chalking it down to his uncontrollable thirst for being a pest. Na Jaemin was your rival, the utter bane of your existence, a rodent that fed on robbing your spirits dry of any positivity.

"He'll get a chance when pigs fly." You muttered, noticing their eyes staring at you inquisitively, as if they knew something you didn't. Awkwardly, you smiled at the girls, ushering them towards the door, scanning the hallway after the last one had skipped out.

Jaemin untangled himself from the locker, straightening his limbs, pulling at his calves in a stretch. You peered over your shoulder, frown deepening at him.

"Did you mean what you said?" Jaemin breathed, walking into your personal bubble. He was way too close. His breath tickled your forehead, eyes dark with something you couldn't decipher.

He felt his heart pound against his chest, resisting the urge to pick the stray hair in your eye to the side. You were looking at him with a confused expression, nose scrunched, eyebrows furrowed. You were going to be the death of him. Devastated, he broke eye contact, feeling all forms of fight seep from his bones.

"You don't like me." You whispered, wincing at the wobble in your voice. "Everyone's just saying that....right?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"No. I want you to say no."

"I can't do that."

"Well, you have to say no. I don't want to hear the rest of your sentence — keep us as just this." You softly yelled, pointing between the pair of you. "Don't change anything."

"Okay. I'll leave, but only because you want me to. But, before I go..you've gotta start being more observant." He sighed, ruffling your hair before making his way out.

"I’m plenty observant. Wouldn’t be a good player if I wasn’t.”

"I’ll see it when I believe it. Oh, and the thing you said about pigs flying..”

“What about it?”

“Renjun’s working on it.”

You laughed heartily, locking the door behind you. So, Jaemin did in fact think of you as his Aphrodite — all those nicknames were genuinely created out of affections. 'Mon bébé chérie' held a lot more emotional weight than it did twenty minutes ago, and you had to breathe before your eyes prickled with saltine tears.

Fresh air hit you like a loaded delivery truck, Mother Nature delicately wiping the tears from your eyes, shaking you with a cold flourish, roaring your cheeks to life. The team had already started their warm-up drills, as opposed to the boys' football team who were cooling down from their jog.

You ran over, tightening your ponytail, shifting into 'Captain' mode. The coach pushed you into the circle, encouraging you to take the reins. "Team, we've been doing nothing but straight work. Let's make this session count before the match tomorrow." You shouted, feeling that familiar rush of adrenaline.

The team chanted back, settling into their positions for the first drill — a penalty shoot out. You stepped to the ball, striding back to gain a better angle, socks hugging your knees.

Giving yourself a five second countdown, you charged at the ball, foot pointed, kicking it with a passion that rivalled Lionel Messi. It rolled in the back of the net, flying past Hyejoo, who could barely even process it.

"Still got those fire feet, I see, Cap'n!"

"Lady Luck gave them to me for a reason." You boasted, smugness slapped all over your face.

From the corner of your eye, Jaemin snickered, winking at you when you turned to make eye contact. At least he had the audacity to keep up appearances in front of everyone, even if you had probably made everything awkward.

"My granny could kick better than that, babes!" He boomed from across the pitch, teasing smirk on his lips.

"Your granny lives in a retirement home and still calls on you 'Nana Banana'..it's not very nice to lie." You retorted, eyes narrowed, nearing his hunched form.

"Doesn't mean she can't kick your ass. Granny was a little Aguero back in the day."

"She can't if I'm the Manè, can she?"

"But I'm a Modric. I'll beat your ass, any day, any time." He grinned, leaning in to you. "In any way you want."

You heard blood pumping in your ears, your cheeks filling with immense heat. He grabbed your cheeks softly, grinning even wider when you flushed even warmer, a human sauna. Pushing a lock out of your eyes, he searched your eyes for any sense of rage, face softening at your lack of that emotion.

"Any..way..I want?" You mouthed silently, innuendo catching your attention again as you mulled over the words. "Na Jaemin, you're a dirty boy."

"I think you're the dirty girl." He hummed, saying the next sentence in an octave that made your head spin, quietly enough that only the two of you could hear. "Sauntering around in your little Victoria's Secret bra, cozying up to me without even batting an eyelash or covering up."

"These boobs are mine. I'm allowed to show them to anyone I want."

"So you admit to showing them to me? You admit that you were trying to put on a show for me?" He pressed, purposely craning his neck over you.

"I was trying to change. If you didn't come into the room like a little pervert, you'd never have gotten a visual of these."

"And yet I know how they look now. There's nothing that can erase that image."

"Fuck you, Na Jaemin."

"I think you meant to say fuck me, but I'll allow the slip-up just because I'm so nice." You squirmed under his predatory gaze, heat in your cheeks akin to a fever. "Better get back to training, Cap. Your team's got a match tomorrow."

You hissed at him weakly, choosing to walk away from his provocation, going back to the team, who were all smiling at you with a glint in their eye. By the looks on their faces, they'd definitely taken that exchange as a form of flirting.

Not that you were disputing it, of course.

The coach rounded the girls up, calling them to grab bibs. You relaxed, running over to take the last bib once you'd calmed down. Na Jaemin was a little toe-sucking, filthy mongrel who only knew how to charm his way out of everything — totally not your ideal type or anything.

His penance for being blunt coupled with that honeyed voice was what was throwing you off. Not your physical attraction to him. At least, you hoped so.

The shrill shriek of the whistle behind you shook you out of your mind, bringing your attention back to the practice game. With every shot at the goal, you could see Jaemin taunting you, making kissy faces.

After the first half, you weren't sure if it was real or if you were hallucinating — almost like a mirage, he was wearing that stupid little smirk and there was nothing more you wanted than to slap those lips clean off his face.

Soon enough, you clocked that it wasn't just an illusion, as he'd shifted to the opposite end of the pitch, the other boys from the football team watching from the stands.

They'd started jeering at every pass, exaggerating their reactions, commentary toeing the border of sexual harassment. You volleyed the ball on your foot, battering it into the stands, grinning widely as it hit one of the boys in the face, leaving his nose lopsided.

"If you're gonna be a sexist piece of shit, just fuck off. My team doesn't deserve to hear your brain-dead commentary, nor see your fuck face." You smiled, bite in your voice. "Kindly take the opinion that nobody asked for and shove it up your ass."

Jaemin's eyes twinkled with respect, breath caught in his throat at the dark look in your eyes. He felt his chest warm in adoration, heart doubling in size. "You heard the lady."

"Includes you too, Jaemin. Better get home before Granny Na starts missing her little boy."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Fuck off." You said playfully, recovering the ball. He waved you bye, lugging his bag over his shoulder, fixing the collar of his jersey. A beam touched your lips, face lighting up.

Jaemin smirked back at you, taking his leave. He dragged the remnants away with him, leaving the girl's football team alone in the cooling dwindle of Autumn light.

"Nice shorts." A tug.

"Oh? Na Jaemin complimenting me?" You mused in surprise, arms folded across your chest.

"You didn't let me finish." Jaemin whispered, standing on the sidelines of the pitch, pulling at the hem of your shorts. "Ooh, I can see your stubble. Better bring out the razor."

Your jaw tightened, feeling that rush of annoyance fill your veins again. The nerve.

"More stubble than you'll ever grow on that chin."

"At least I'm not a human Sasquatch."

"I've got hair in the right places—" You started, catching the innuendo, glaring at Jaemin's raised eyebrows. "—I know what I meant. Don't be such a dirty boy."

"Say it again. Love the way it rolls off your tongue."

You gaped at him, whole body blowing a fuse, skin reddening at his tone. Sweltering heat danced atop each fingertip, each muscle, making you jolt. His gaze was still glued to your face, relishing the quickly dilating pupils in your eyes.

"I—"

"—Would rather have you speechless after our first time, not for your championship final. When you win, I'll buy you fucking adorable ice cream with the little star sprinkles that you like."

"Going to ignore you on that first statement, but the second one sounds like a motive."

"Win the match, and I'll ask you out. Properly."

You saw his eyes flash with something passionate, flakes of gooey molasses swirling behind the irises. Before you opened your mouth to reply to him, he pleaded silently for you to just take it as it was. "Gimme a chance. Who knows you better than your enemy? Nobody."

"I mean..."

"Only you know that my grandma calls me those corny names or that I see her all the time."

"Or that you lose every game that's not football because you're too lazy to pay attention." You added.

"And I know that you broke a guy's jaw because he was bothering Yangyang." He continued. "And I also know that you know one thing I've never told anyone."

"Ooh, what's that?"

"That I like you."

You looked away from him sheepishly, goosebumps popping up on your skin, and whether it was from the cold or from his words, you didn't know. He was looking down at you tenderly, ruffling your bed of hair, pressing a small, wet kiss to your forehead as the whistle blew.

"Don't play with fire, Na."

"You're more like a carpet burn."

You sighed, defeated. "Fine. I'll give you an answer when we win. If you're playing me, I'll break your arms."

"Okay. Go get 'em, Lady Luck." He smiled, waving you off as you scurried onto the pitch, face glowing under the fluorescent lights. Jaemin felt his chest tighten with pride, jaw aching from all the strenuous smiling.

With that absurdly contented face, you reminded him of a cross between a kid at a carnival and a man about to kill another. Your hair gathered wildly atop your head, a wicked glare painting your face.

This was you at peace, he deduced. Even with the gruesome of expressions, you looked calm. The pitch was truly your home away from home.

Two minutes into the second half saw you being carried off on a stretcher with a torn hamstring. You'd fallen to the grass, no sounds coming from your limp body. Jaemin swore he felt his heart plunge into his ass, and with a frantic flourish, he was coddling your head into his chest.

"Luck, don't die on me. I'm supposed to take you out for ice cream after this, and I stole Renjun's Baskin Robbins loyalty card to cut costs so if we don't go, I'll be getting beat up without having kissed your stupid face." He babbled, slapping your cheeks, scared that you'd genuinely lost your life.

You groaned, rolling slowly in the elastic. "Stop touching my face, I'll get acne." Mildly concussed, you soothed your throbbing headache, registering Jaemin's face looming over you. "Jaemin?"

"Oh, thank God. Thought I'd never see that unruly sparkle in your eyes again."

"Fuck off. My hamstring feels like a fried chicken mukbang and you're talking about my eyes."

"I can't cry before our first date. You'll think I'm a wimp."

"Already think that."

He hit your arm lightly, beaming at your focus on his face, meeting your eyes. You were glaring at him with a kissable pout on your lips, eyebrows furrowed — he wanted to pepper your face in balmy kisses.

The paramedic pushed him away, leading you to the ambulance. You flipped him off, yelling loudly as they wheeled you in, "Make sure you win! Won't forgive you if you don't."

The girl's football team had gathered around the door, all tight-lipped smiles and crumpled faces. They visibly brightened at your declaration, huddling together to recalibrate — the ref blew her whistle to call them back, summoning them back into position.

Yangyang and Donghyuck left the stands, rushing into the ambulance alongside you, closing the door behind them. Jaemin could faintly hear your loud curses, and sighed in relief, knowing that you'd be fine.

With two goals up, the team were at optimum working speed, playing loyally for your honour. Jaemin stood at the sidelines, holding your jacket in his hands as he recorded the match on his phone, wanting to send it to you later.

At 90 minutes, the girl's team had become the winner of the Division One Seoul Inter-district championship, and Jaemin was content. Not because it meant you'd go on that date with him, but because he could feel how much it meant to them.

Everyone around him was cheering madly, chanting and spraying assorted drinks in each other's faces, an infectious joy lingering in his veins. Amongst all the commotion, he'd somehow been pushed into the middle of the team, feeling their gazes boring into his frame.

"You like Cap'n, right?" The brunette said, eyes bright.

"No. I don't like her. She's my rival." Jaemin lied pathetically, trying to escape their judgement.

"Why were you in the locker room then?"

"Damn. How do you know that?"

"Cap'n is horrible at lying, so she's always upfront. She also cannot do an impression so she never attempts it."

"Wow, you guys sure know your stuff. Bet she's glad to have a team like you. I know I'm feeling a little jealous."

"Cut the smooth talk. If you like Cap'n, just be straightforward. She's more innocent than she seems, and can get her heart broken easily."

"Got it." He nodded, "Well...ladies, I have to thank you for the advice."

"No problem, but if you break her heart.." They chorused, "We'll break that pretty little nose." Fifteen studded feet swung at his face, narrowly skimming the bridge of his nose.

He flinched, caught off guard, grin bared. "Now, I definitely got that message. I'll be going to check up on her, what do you want me to say?"

"We've already called her and shown her the trophy, so we have nothing left to say, you, however...take all the time you need."

"Since I have your blessing, am I allowed to—"

"Don't finish that sentence. Keep in your lane."

Jaemin promptly closed his mouth, and bid them a goodbye, dashing into his car towards the hospital, stopping at Baskin Robbins to buy the ice cream he promised. He hoped you’d at least be able to eat the sprinkles (the ones you liked were expensive, and if you didn’t eat them, he’d just wasted an extra 2,500 won.)

In the hospital, you were now dressed in a medical gown, surrounded by the two idiots. It smelt like an experiment lab, and the spotless shades of ivory splashed on the walls made you feel a tad bit overwhelmed.

Your leg had already undergone the MRSI scan, and the nurses had told you that you’d definitely tore your hamstring, but surgery would fix it right up along with natural healing.

Of course, all those details lacked in comparison to your team finally winning the trophy you’d worked so hard towards — that excitement numbed the pain considerably.

“We thought you’d somehow died.” Yangyang confessed, grasping your hands in his clammy ones.

“You did.” Donghyuck sneered, pointing at him, continuing when he saw your face change in confusion. “Yang was convinced that you were invincible like Superman or something. He started blubbering about how you could definitely defeat the grim reaper in close contact and that should be enough to steal back your soul or whatever—”

“I’m just never going to ask questions again.”

“Jaemin was on the verge of a breakdown when he saw you fall. Never have I ever seen him run so fast towards a girl.” Donghyuck said, hand on chin in mock thought.

You blushed, remembering your promise about the ice cream and falling back into the bed in distress.

“What’s going on with you? I saw you two all friendly at the sidelines.” Yangyang murmured, eyes squinting in judgement. “Don’t tell me...you guys fucked before the game?”

Suddenly it was too hot in the room. You fanned yourself to cool down, slapping your own cheeks before pulling Yangyang’s ears. “Yeah, because I have the guts to just have my first time in a school setting.” You deadpanned.

“Naughty girl.” Both boys swooned, unable to note your sarcasm.

“Just because my leg is gone doesn’t mean I can’t harm you anymore. I’ll break your kneecaps.”

In the midst of your fight with your best friends, you spotted Jaemin opening the door, wearing that greasy smirk that made butterflies tickle your throat.

“I see a broken leg isn’t enough to stop you, is it?” Jaemin drawled from the door, hands behind his back. “Still threatening people?”

“It’s not threatening if they deserve it.” You mumbled, suddenly shy. Jaemin maintained his distance from you, arm outstretched, ice cream tub in hand. He was looking away from you, faint blush tinting his cheeks, lips squeezed in a puffy ‘o’.

“Not that I remembered or anything, but you did say something about liking these sprinkles.” He said, eyes darting around to focus on anything but you.

“I do...like these sprinkles..how did you know?”

“Everyone calls you star, and you’re cute. It’s your personality in an edible sugar shape.”

You rolled your eyes at his words, forgetting both Donghyuck and Yangyang were seated in the room. It felt like the two of you were just stuck in your own world, glaring at each other like a pair of lovers.

Unfortunately, that moment was cut short by your ungracious best friends, cooing annoyingly. They were squealing like little girls, incomprehensible screams of ‘our girl’s grown up!’ scraping your eardrums.

“Leave me alone!” You whined, face scrunched in discomfort, making futile attempts to push them away. “Jaemin...please get these two off me.”

“Asking your boyfriend to get rid of us? Already?” Yangyang hollered, one of Jaemin’s arms stopping him from jumping on you again.

“He’s not my boyfriend. As of now, he’s the only sensible one who isn’t mauling the girl with a broken leg, and that’s why I’m asking him for help.”

“Should I throw them out?”

“Yes —actually, do whatever. Let them go terrorise someone that isn’t me.”

“Your wish is my command.”

On that, Jaemin escorted both boys outside, shutting the door on them, cutting off the beginning to their long-winded rant with a smile. That left the two of you alone.

Oddly enough, the silence wasn’t stifling but rather a conversation of the mind — you were able to see what he wanted to say by looking into those mocha coloured eyes. You threw the ice cream tub in the bin, reaching for Jaemin’s hands shyly.

He’d sat down beside you on the bed, just staring at you like you were an abstract painting, a mosaic of a splendid array, unable to take his eyes off you. He took your hand warmly, running his fingers over your calloused knuckles, sharing his heat with you.

“Jaemin.” You yawned, head falling onto his shoulder. “I’m saying yes to your date. If I didn’t get injured, you could’ve taken me out today, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry. Being with you is enough for me, even if I do want to comment on your horrible tackles during the match.” Jaemin teased, grabbing your hand a little tighter.

“Haha...I’m dying of laughter.”

“Hey! None of that here.”

“Sorry. I’m just happy. My team won our first championship, which we’ve been trying to do for three years, and I feel on top of the world. All those years of boys being absolute dickheads to us about our abilities, trying to put us down have amounted to this moment. I’m at peace right now.”

“Don’t apologise. I should be sorry instead. It was easier to talk to you if I pretended I hated you. I shouldn’t have been like that.”

“I accept your apology. But..I think it was cute you couldn’t tell me you liked me! That’s so endearing.”

“Fuck off.”

“That’s my line! Well, you were always attractive to me, even when you were being a dickhead. Now that I think about it, you’re at your hottest when you’re being mean.”

“Is that so?” Jaemin mused, rolling onto his hands, dangling over you, lips eerily close to your own. “Do you want me to treat you mean, keep you keen?”

“Firstly, don’t ever say that again.” You stopped him, hand placed on his chest to push him away lightly. “Secondly, I’ve never had a boyfriend or my first kiss. That means no experience.” You slurred that last part, rushing the words so he wouldn’t be able to hear.

“Cap’n, you’re telling me that I’ll be your first?”

“Not if you don’t ask me out.”

Jaemin sat back beside you, looking up to the ceiling. This was the moment. He took a deep breath, standing up before you, hands rubbing his stomach softly to calm down.

“I wanted to do a real dramatic confession, but I rushed over here in fear that you wouldn’t be able to hit me again, so I’ll have to stick with my speech.” He cheesed, trying to ease himself of his nerves. You laughed, hissing in mock anger when he wore that stupid grin. “I like you. Like a lot. Sometimes, I come to school with a dirty scowl on my face, but then I see your face and start smiling like a love struck fool. You’re someone that I wouldn’t want to lose.”

“Jaemin, you little mongrel. Come here.” You waved him over, arms outstretched in a hug. “Even though I know your ego won’t let you ask me out properly, I would love to be your girlfriend. However, if my heart is broken..I’ll be stoning your car.”

“Thought you were gonna say that you’d break my face.”

“That too.”

He snuggled closer into you, peering up at you with shining eyes, not wanting to move too much to keep you comfortable. You grinned back at him, placing a soft kiss on his head, running a hand through his hair.

That familiar silence returned, and that’s how you fell asleep with Na Jaemin enveloped in your chest. Although you’d broken a leg, Lady Luck seemed to have twiddled her fingers to send you a ‘get well soon’ present, the ever cunning Na Jaemin.

Five months later had you no longer hobbling around on crutches like a hobbit, but walking proud and tall. Jaemin drove you to school (using the excuse of carpooling) and helped you take your books to first period everyday — the alpha male in him winced seeing you attempt any ‘heavy lifting’, and he’d made it a routine.

“Can you fuck off? I can carry this.” You complained, pinching his side. “Just because I see a physio biweekly doesn’t mean I’m about as able-bodied as a monkey.”

“Got the hair to be a monkey.” He snorted.

“Look who’s talking, Mr.Sasquatch. Bigger feet than his prints, you little scoundrel.”

“Big feet means big—”

“Don’t finish that if you wanna keep the body part in question.”

“—heart. Dirty girl.”

You felt the honey pooling in your stomach, kissing his cheek in haste to escape his relentless teasing. He shut up at that, pulling you back to kiss you properly, attracting the attention of everyone in the hallway.

“Get to class.” He announced as he parted from you, enjoying your petulant face. You hit him softly, flipping him off from behind you, blowing him a kiss.

Ah, Na Jaemin. You still hated him. Just a little less this time.

[izzuku]

“Let me be” Trans boy! Reader x Izuku Midoriya Pt. 4

Genre: angst, fluff by times

Synopsis: You’re a transferred student to the UA. You hide the fact that you’re trans, using binder, short hair, a different name, etc.

TW: gender dysphoria, intrusive thoughts, anxiety, swearing (basically me)

A/N: So basically I was crying, having a moment of dysphoria and since I don’t have anyone to talk to rn I got the idea that Izuku would be a fallen angel that was going to help you in everything. So to my male and trans male people, I have this thing for you, enjoy ☆. ALSO ALL CHARACTERS AGED UP, THEY’RE IN THIRD GRADE

QUICK NOTE AND TW. This part is really short but contains a lot of angst, mentions of passing out and intrusive thoughts, in my opinion. If anyone feels uncomfortable reading this, please leave, for your own health, thank you!

That voice...kept ringing inside your head. You wanted to run, run as fast as you could, leaving everyone and everything behind. Bakugo's let go completely of your wrist. That's when you came back to your senses. Izuku was almost inside the ring, when you touched the floor in front of you, breaking it into two, almost making everyone stumble and fall down. That gave you enough time to escape and run away.

“Damn it! Everyone get out of the training area!”

Aizawa shouted as he tried to protect everyone. The green haired boy wasn't happy at all, he needed to go by your side, to comfort you.

“I'm sorry Mr. Aizawa but Y/N needs help! I'm going with them!”

Aizawa tried to stop Izuku from running behind you, but Shoto put his hand on his shoulder.

“I think it'll go well, I feel they get along very well, so please let Midoriya help Y/N. I'm sure he'll calm his anxiety”.

How could Aizawa deny something so clear? He's been watching you two, seeing how both of you were happy around each other.

[...]

Where were you? You didn't even knew. All you saw were trees and trees. The only thing that was true was that you didn't escape from the UA. Maybe the forest around the dorms? Who cares. Thoughts and thoughts were surrounding your head, making it impossible to concentrate on anything else.

they hate you

you're a liar

now that they know, they'll stop being your friends

everyone will leave you alone

stupid liar

Anxiety started to kick in, your dysphoric feelings eating you up. Hands trying to hide your chest as if it wasn't there. You took a quick glance at your wrists, bad memories replaying on them, as if they were there again. Tears streaming down your face. Why everything was so unfair?

“I'm not a weirdo..I'm just a boy. Please, stop”. You repeated yourself again and again, your lungs were making it harder to breath. You didn't even notice the boy in front of you. Everything was getting blurry, black dots appearing on your vision

“Y/N! Please respond to me! Hey! Nono, look at me!”

It was so silent. So much silence it was loud. Voices echoed your head, opening your eyes felt like hell. It was so dizzy that it hurted. All you could see was a blonde and green hair guys.

“...Deku?”

[simons-calling-the-127-squad]

First Impressions - YangYang

Warnings: drug usage, cursing, and violence

Credit to the original owners of the images.

GN "Bad Kid" Reader x "Good Kid" YangYang

Soulmate Au: First words to each other

"Y/N, are you paying attention?" Mrs. Song questioned from her position in front of the board.

"Yes ma'am", you said, trying your hardest not to roll your eyes. She looked at you for another moment before her eyes turned back to the notes written on the board, which you had already copied all of them down. You felt a poke in your ribs, your eyes moved over to your right where your friend Andy sat. Before she could speak the bell rang. You instantly moved to put your binder in your bag and waited for Andy to do the same. The two of you quickly walked out and waited in the back of the parking lot for the rest of your friends.

"I swear that woman has it out for you", she says pulling a bag out of her backpack.

"So help me you get us caught-"

"Don't worry", she cut you off, "I'll be careful."

"You better be sharing", Darren said as he walked over motioning for Andy to hurry up. She rolled her eyes and passed him the pipe. He instantly took it and inhaled, handing it to you who did the same.

"How dare you start without us?" Ryder said as he and Bridget joined your group, stealing the pipe from your hands.

"Hey no smoking, you have to drive your cousin home and your aunt will kill you if she finds out your high", Bridget said as she took the pipe from him.

"Speaking of which, where is the little shit?" He said, his eyes moving around the parking lot.

"That reminds me, anybody wanna gimme a ride? My sister has to work so she can't pick me up", you asked the group.

"Yeah sure. I'll need someone to keep me sane after I take Bridget home", Ryder said.

"Trust me. I'm not too happy about riding with you either", a voice said from behind him.

"We'll leave in a few. First, lemme introduce you to the gang. The blue-haired girl is Andy. The one with all of the piercings is Y/N. Green haired dude is Darren and you know Bridget. Guys this is YangYang."

"Sup", Darren told him as he took the pipe from Bridget. YangYang just nodded, it was obvious he was uncomfortable. You felt a bit bad for him, but that didn't stop you from taking another hit before leaving. Bridget got in the passenger seat, leaving you and YangYang in the back. It didn't take long for the two of you to arrive at Bridget's. She kissed Ryder and told you all bye before getting out.

"I need gas and snacks, so we're making a pit stop", he said as he pulled back onto the road. He was in and out of the gas station passing you a bag of chips and YangYang a candy bar.

"So I gotta ask. Why do you guys smoke?" YangYang inquired to his cousin after a bit of silence.

"Numbs things a bit. And with it, things hurt less. Y/N is better at describing it", Ryder replied. YangYang turned to you.

"Let it hurt until it can't hurt anymore. That's what it's like without it", you said. He nodded and turned back to look out the window.

"That answer your question?" Ryder glanced in the rearview mirror to look at YangYang, who nodded. The moment the car arrived at his house YangYang thanked his cousin and jumped out of the car.

"Hopefully I don't have to give him a ride again", he said as he backed into the road.

"Eh, he didn't seem that bad."

"Let's just hope he doesn't tell my aunt I'm a stoner", he whispered. You let out a little laugh and continued to talk until you got back home.

------

It became a tradition for Ryder to take you home, and for him to drive YangYang home on Thursdays. It had been a month since the first time you had met him, and he still hadn't talked to you. But you couldn't really blame him, you were the classic "bad kid" that literally got stoned in the school parking lot, and he was the "good kid" that had the perfect record. It still amazed you that he and Ryder were even related at all. Just like the first time you rode together, Ryder had to make a pit stop at the gas station, though this time he was taking much longer. You found yourself growing more and more tired as you waited. It didn't help that you were unable to sleep last night and had smoked some with the group before leaving. You forced yourself to stay awake and pulled out your phone, hoping to distract yourself from the temptations of falling asleep.

"Awake and unafraid", YangYang whispered, so low that you almost didn't hear him. Your eyes widened and they moved to your wrist, which was covered by your sleeve. The exact same words were etched into your skin. The words that had been there since your birth and would be the first words your soulmate told you.

"Talk about a plot twist", you mumbled, causing YangYang to laugh.

"I wasn't expecting it either", he admitted

"Wait a second", you said upon realization, "I talked to you the first time we rode with Ryder. You've known for a month that we're soulmates and didn't say anything?"

"Admittedly I was a bit concerned when I figured out that we're mates. But then I realized, things aren't that simple, that I know nothing about you and have no reason to have concerns. But I wasn't sure what to say, so I waited for the right time."

"I hate the fact that is reasonable. Second off, what the heck did you mean by unafraid?" Your torso moving to face him.

"You're unafraid of what others think. And to say what's on your mind. I've noticed that after learning we shared some classes."

"We have classes together?" You asked, your face twisting in surprise.

"Several", he answered with a laugh.

"Dang I'm blind."

"To be fair most times you're stuck in your head. And most likely stoned during class", he responded.

"Okay, you're not wrong on that. But lemme guess, you don't want people to know we're soulmates?" As you asked the question the driver's door opened.

"Hold the phone. Y'all are soulmates?" Ryder asked as he entered the car. Tossing candy at you two. The two of you nodding in response.

"And to answer your question. I'd much rather people know we're soulmates."

"Why though? You're the golden boy and I'm one of the resident stoners", you inquired as you opened up the chocolate.

"Because we're soulmates? The differences will definitely cause some trouble, but we'll be able to get through them", he told you.

"I still can't believe you two are mates", Ryder said as he started the car. The conversation was then put on hold, you assumed it would most likely be continued tomorrow.

---

It was lunchtime when you finally met up with YangYang.

"Sorry I'm late", he said. He dropped his bag onto the floor and sat next to you. He kept his head down and eyes trained on the table.

"You good?" You asked.

"Uh yeah, fine."

"YangYang, you do realize that I can tell your lying, right?" You said as you leaned closer to him. He finally peeked up at you, his eyes were a bit red.

"I hate the fact that I can't lie to you", he said with a slight pout.

"What happened?" You questioned.

His shoulders sagged as he mumbled something incoherently. You raised your eyebrows at him.

"Just Blake and Liam being their usual selves." That's when you noticed the scratch on his cheek.

"Woah hold up. They did that?" You could already feel the anger rising in you. YangYang must've seen it in your eyes and began rambling about how it usually is worse, but as your fists clenched in anger he knew he messed up. Instead, he started backtracking, but it was too late, you were already storming out of the cafeteria to behind the gym. You knew the two boys hung out there during lunch, as cliche as it was. You could hear YangYang trailing close behind and begging you not to do anything.

"Y/N, what's up?" Blake greeted upon seeing you. Before you would've returned the greeting, but now you just grabbed him by the collar.

"Hey what fu-" Liam started, as he moved to you. But you glare turned to him, he immediately paused.

"Wanna tell me what you did to YangYang?" You asked, backing Blake up until he hit the wall.

"Why do you care?" Liam asked.

"One chance to tell me. I might not hit as hard if you answer", your grip tightening.

"Okay we roughhoused a bit, so what?"

"Is this the first time?"

"Yes?" Your right knee jerked up to hit I'm in the stomach. He groaned in pain and would've doubled over had it not been for your hold on him.

"What the hell Y/N?" Liam asked, his eyes widened in shock.

"Shit, fine. We've done it before", Blake panted.

"Oh so now you wanna tell the truth?" You asked rhetorically as your left fist reeled back and connected with his jaw. You dropped him from your hold as you heard Liam rush over to you. His knee made contact with your ribs, but you lunged at him and tackled him to the ground. As his back hit the concrete he let out a huff. You wasted no time on landing the punches. You rolled off of him when Blake attempted to yank you off. Your right foot landed on his chest and he stumbled back after the kick. You stood up, as he hobbled back towards you, and you grabbed onto his hair. He yelped at the pain of you pulling him up by it. You landed a final punch on his cheek and let go before shoving him to the ground where he sputtered up the smallest amount of blood.

"Bully anyone else and you probably won't make it out of the hospital next time. Understand?" You informed them as you moved to stand in front of them. Blake nodded and Liam groaned.

"And tell anyone that if they touch YangYang they're dead. Spread the word that if they mess with my soulmate, I will find them", you told them before grabbing YangYang's hand and walking back to the cafeteria.

"Where were you guys?" Darren asked when you sat back down.

"Had to take care of some assholes. And Andy blacklist Blake and Liam from your selling list." She nodded.

"So what'd they do?" Bridget asked.

"They messed with my mate", you told her as you pulled a blushing YangYang into your arms. Everyone at the table was surprised to say the least, well besides Ryder who was dying of laughter.

----

YangYang had decided to ride with Ryder again, he had asked his cousin to drop the two of you off at a local park. You waved Ryder off as he and Bridget backed out of the parking lot and walked with YangYang to a nearby bench. The two of you didn't get to talk after getting back to the cafeteria and you knew he had something to say about the whole situation.

"Alright, go ahead and say it", you told him. He gave you a confused look.

"That you don't wanna date me after the whole lunch fiasco."

"That's not at all what I was gonna say. I was gonna say that A) next time please give me a warning if you're gonna kick someone's ass. B) that was awesome. And C) let's go on an official date and actually start dating." It was your turn to be confused.

You could feel your eyebrows pull together as you asked him, "You still wanna date me?"

"Uh yeah?"

"Why?" You blurted out, prompting the boy next to you to laugh.

"Well I know you'll always protect me. And you're fun. And my soulmate."

"Well, I didn't expect that." He laughed again and stood up, pulling you with him as he walked to a nearby bakery.

"Now let's go on our first date, soulmate", he winked. You smiled, thinking about how it was definitely gonna be interesting to see everyone's reactions on Monday morning. And how the two of your story plays out, but you're looking forward to it.

-🃏

[sailorwritesstuff]

Because of you. Thalia Grace x trans!boy reader

Trans!boy = born a Girl who is a Boy.

This is set before Annabeth is Kidnapping in Titan Curse.

This may hit you in the feel. i'm sorry.

Y/n pov

I was getting ready for the day. I put my binder on. It was a (skin/tone) colored sports bra on. I slide a T-shirt over it and slip my pants on.

I walk A walk outside and to the Athena cabin Annabeth- My Best Friend- walked out right on time. She takes my hand and we walk to train before breakfast. Our friend ship was full of friendly gestures we had been friends since before Thalia and Luke. Our gestures usually made people think we're together. While Annabeth is Bisexual

(theres proof)

Annabeth is into the Son of Poseidon,

Percy Fucking Jackson.

I can't hate him for taking my bestfriend every summer and not leaving any time for me to see her. They were saving the world.

But I can hate him for throwing my life out of Balance. As the only Child of Hestia I like my life and family as orderly as a demigod life can be. Being 60 and looking 15 isn't all that great.

I was born in 1947 and trapped in the Lotus Hotel at the age of 9 .

Aphrodite was the one who finally got me outta there. Annabeth snapped me out of my thoughts and sayed she was going to the bathroom and kissed my cheek. I could feel someone staring at us...glaring at us. I look around and see Thalia Grace my kinda sorta friend. Its been really awkward with us because the last time we saw each other I was 9 and she was 13 we sorta had a moment. But its stupid I was Nine and there was a 4 year age difference now there's only a few month in between us.

Thalia PoV

Annabeth is like a sister to me but my feeling for Y/n are getting to me I missed so much in 7 years that I can't get back. 7 years of things Annabeth knows that I don't. She-They cut their hair down Short really short.It suits them.

But one thing I don't know that Annabeth does is their relationship with Annabeth. They were always holding hands or kissing cheeks. I've seen Annabeth SIT on their lap one mor than one occasion and it driving me nuts.

Y/n

Why is she glaring at me? Does she... does like Annabeth? Thalia walks over to me.

"So you and Annabeth huh?" She asked "nah but between you and me she's into someone else."

"oh"

"Promise me something?"

"Anything." her voice was airy kinda Dream like almost but I didn't think about it much.

"Protect Annabeth with your life."

"I will..."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

~After Percy and Thalia return.

"Cabin leader meeting!" Clarrise barked at me.

When I get to the big house I see Malcolm at the Athena seat around the ping pong table. Thalia wasn't looking at me.

PERCY wasn't looking at me!

"Where is..." my voice cracks. What if she's died? what if she's dying right now?!

"We don't know Child." Chiron lays a hand on my shoulder. I push it off. "Don't touch me." I mumble. Thalia tried to hug me. " (Meaningful nickname) please..." I felt myself go hot as my hands and hair Caught on fire.

"DON'T TOUCH ME! DON'T CALL ME THAT! This is your fault you promised me you'd protect her." I fell myself trying not to sob.

"Why?" Thalia asked me.

"What?"

"WHY ANNBETH?! SHE CUDDLES NEXT TO YOU AND SITS ON YOU LAP! YOU KISS AND HUG ALL THE TIME. I-I WANT THAT WITH YOU!" Thalia begins to form electricity around her body. "And I can't have that. why her why not me?"

"Because you died you abandoned us,all three of us and Luke is like this because of you."

[lyssismagical]

For the request thingy, Peter failed a test (somehow) and he feels shitty but Tony comforts him. Idk I just need IronDad fluff Also you're an amazing writer, and all your stories are so good like every time you update I stop whatever I'm doing and read it

Thank you so much!! Hope this suffices! 

The red ink glared back at him like it was going to jump out of the page and murder him on the spot. 42% on their Calculus test. 

Granted, it wasn’t technically his fault. When they did the test, he’d been sleep-deprived after four days of never-ending patrols on top of homework, training with the Avengers, and Lab nights with Tony. Plus, he hadn’t had the time to eat breakfast, so he was struggling to keep his rumbling stomach under control. 

It wasn’t really his fault he failed the test, but if he had just studied a little longer or he had ignored the bank robbery and left it to the police. If he had just tried harder, he would’ve passed. He knows calculus. He’s good at calculus. But after this test, his grade will drop to an 80, dropping his average down from 96 to 89. He’d be a failure. 

How could Tony Stark’s personal intern have an average of less than 90? 

“You’re overreacting, man,” Ned says, hiding his perfect test score inside his binder as they walk out of class. 

“Says you. I failed a math test, Ned. May and Tony are going to kill me for this,” Peter groans. He knows he’s overreacting. He knows Ned’s right. But he doesn’t care. It’s been a long week, even longer than the week before his calculus test, and his grades are suffering for it. 

Juggling a STEM school, Academic Decathlon, Lab Nights with Tony, Spider-Man, and helping May around the house, isn’t as easy as it used to be now that they’re nearing the end of the semester. Only one more month and teacher’s are getting strict. Plus, the crime rate escalates every year around the holidays. 

“You’re acting like a drama queen, Parker,” MJ says, walking a few paces behind them like she still doesn’t want to be seen by them. “You have the highest GPA in the school. One test grade isn’t going to kill you.”

Peter’s thinking it might. 

*

He finds himself sitting on a rooftop in the city after Karen stops reporting crimes to him. For once, Queens is quiet. 

Peter isn’t as lucky. 

His head won’t stop screaming about how much of a failure he is. He can’t get the number out of his head. 42%. 

“Incoming call from Tony Stark,” Karen informs sweetly. 

“Accept it,” Peter sighs, kicking his feet childishly over the edge of the rooftop. “Hey, Mister Stark.”

“I’ve just gotten back from my long week of meetings in the UK and went to check your suit usage from the week. Turns out, the Spider-Baby has been out until four in the morning almost every night. I say almost because two nights ago, you stayed out will six.”

Failure, echoes in his head. Mister Stark knows it. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter murmurs, pushing down the bubble of anger that swells in his chest. He’s tired of feeling so overwhelmed. He’s tired of feeling tired. 

“Don’t be sorry, kiddo,” Tony’s quick to say. He sounds tired too. “You wanna swing by the tower? Haven’t seen you in a week and I never thought I’d say this, but I’m starting to miss Disney movies.” 

Peter can’t help the smile, but it’s gone almost as quick as it came. 

“I have to tell you something first,” he blurts. He doesn’t want to go all the way to the tower just to have Tony find out about his failure and have to come all the way back out. 

Peter knows Tony’s wearing his signature sad smile just by his tone of voice. 

“You can tell me anything, kiddie.”

“I failed my calculus test.” Even saying it out loud is enough for the tears to well up in Peter’s eyes. Tony’s going to take the suit and yell at him and tell him never to go back to the tower again. Because he’s a failure. He’s stupid and a failure. Why would anyone want to spend time with him? 

There’s a long stretch of silence, filled with the sounds of crickets and distance traffic.

Before Tony goes, “Oh, kid.” In the most sympathetic voice Peter’s ever heard. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter cries, breaking underneath the sympathy. “I’m- I’m a failure. I’m so sorry. You can- You can take my suit, I understand. I should’ve- I should’ve tried harder.”

“Come to the tower, Underoos. We’ll talk when I can actually see you in person. I don’t like listening to you cry over the phone when I can’t comfort you,” Tony says. “But be careful. I don’t want you slipping and falling.”

Peter doesn’t understand. Is it a cruel joke? Make him go to the tower just to Tony can humiliate him further in person? 

But he does as told. 

He swings his way to the tower and slides through the specially made Spider-Man entrance into the lab. 

Tony’s sitting on the couch, head in his hands. There’s a cardboard box of papers in front of him. 

“Mister Stark?” Peter calls anxiously. His tears have dried up, but his voice is still hoarse and thick with emotion. 

“Come sit, Pete.” Tony lifts his head and pats the spot next to him on the old dark blue couch. “Obviously, we have to talk.”

“I’m so sorry, Mister Stark! I just- I’m as disappointed in me as you are. I understand if you don’t want to have Lab Nights anymore or if you’re going to take the suit or-”

Tony pulls Peter into his side, effectively cutting off Peter’s rambling. 

“Everyone has bad days, kid. Everyone fails a test at least once,” the billionaire explains, patting the edge of the cardboard box. “I found my high school tests my father kept. The ones on top are the ones I failed the worst.”

There’s everything from Physics to Spanish to Trigonometry in the box. And there’s everything from near passes like Peter’s 42 to one’s where he managed to get every question wrong. 

“Nobody’s perfect, Pete. Not even me. Most of the time, these were after strings of bad days where I was tired and unwell both mentally and physically. Sometimes I tried to do them while totally wasted. Everyone makes mistakes, but, and this is the important part, I’m not going to kick you out or take your suit. And I’m certainly not going to be disappointed in you.”

“But my average is dropping to-” Peter tries to argue, pulling away from where he’d been buried in Tony’s sweatshirt. 

“I don’t care,” Tony says, shaking his head. His eyes are shining with pride, something Peter worried he’d never get to see again. “In my Junior year, first semester, I had a 23 average because I didn’t show up to my classes and didn’t do my work. I can one-up you on failures any day, Pete. You’re trying your best and that’s all I could ask of you.”

The teenager’s shoulders finally slump in acceptance and he falls heavier against Tony’s chest, sniffling into the fabric of his old sweatshirt. One of Tony’s arms wrap around his shoulders in response, the other shifting to run a steady path through his messy curls. 

“You need to remember to take breaks, okay?” Tony continues. “You’re juggling a lot and I want you to remember that Queens can take care of itself without Spider-Man, okay?” 

“Shh,” Peter slurs in response. “’M sleeping.” 

Tony laughs quietly, shifting to make sure Peter’s secure and comfortable against his side. “Okay, Spider-Baby. Get some sleep. I’ll let May know you’re here.” 

“Night, Mis’r S’rk,” Peter murmurs, curling a hand into the fabric of Tony’s sweatshirt like a child would. 

“Night, kiddo. I’m so proud of you. No matter what.”

[imagine-the-absolute-beard-quest]

10th June 2018 - 50 weeks on Testosterone (11months)

Okay so I want to apologise for not being consistent with my updates.

I just got fixated on work and many other things in the past couple months that made me almost just be down about my progress on T given the length of time I've been on it.. But recently I've had to remind myself to stop comparing, to enjoy it and to also remember it can take up to 5 years for nearly all changes to happen as it is second puberty.

I've also been drained a fair bit from work and feeling like I have constant jet lag from the 5am wake ups..

I've also started the gym 3x a week with 1 of them being with a personal trainer to help with weight training.

Updates:

- I've started weight training at the gym and my chest, arms and shoulders have all broadened more, with the help of T as well its definitely become noticeable now!

- my voice is still changing with being nearly a year on it still seems like it fluctuates to high and low then will suddenly just permanently drop a bit lower and stay lower.

- my facial hair is coming through very noticeable now to the point I'm having to shave it weekly!

- My hips are still quite noticeable. I've not seen any changes to fat redistribution in my opinion, which has given me the most dysphoria now.

- I never really suffered a lot with chest dysphoria until recently where I'm becoming very self conscious of anything I wear shows my binder outlines straight away.. I have received a referral to have top surgery with Dr. P. Kneeshaw. It's scheduled to be approx in 33 weeks time, which from when I received the letter is around December time. So hopefully by this time next year I will of already had top surgery (that is nerve racking to know!)

-I'm getting hairs growing a little on my chest and pretty much everywhere else. Not my back though thankfully!

- however speaking of back, since starting T my back has become quite spotty and so has the rest of my face compared to Pre-T. I've started a skin care regime, which I try to stick at daily but I'm terrible and routines.

- I haven't really noticed mental changes like mood swings or feeling more anger, I don't feel hungry as much as I thought I would and I also haven't experienced feeling warmer on a general basis.

- finally my weight is now 1stone heavier but my measurements have stayed the same around the hips /waist. Most of my increases have gone to arms, chest and shoulders. So weight training has increased my weight but more from muscle growth than fat gain.

I am going to upload some comparison video clips of my voice changes and also some photo comparisons!

Hope you all have a great chilled Sunday and I will hopefully do an update in a week or 2 to mark the 1year on Testosterone! 😀

2 weeks on Testosterone:

11 months on Testosterone:

[james-needs-a-soul]

tips for my trans masc friends

hey there guys! as a trans guy myself I figured I might as well drop some of my wiser discoveries upon tumblr so that way all of my fellow trans guys, nb, genderfluid, and gnc people can live their best lives!

- putting a binder on after a shower is a pain bUt if you're gonna do it, make sure your chest, shoulders, and upper back are hella dry before even thinking about putting it on, and the binder itself has to be dry. Basically, my rule of thumb is wherever the binder is gonna be, I dry that really well and the rest of my body like usual.

- gc2b is the best way to go from binders, but underworks is a good option too and you can find them on Amazon for about US$20. Amazon has other options too for less but those are way more likely to cause issues, and I seriously don't recommend getting them off wish - I had one and it really fucked up my ribs.

- if you're binding, take it off after 8 hours unless you're experiencing a lot of discomfort, then take that sucker off ASAP. gc2b recommends no longer than 12 if your binder fits good and you don't have any issues and underworks could probably go 10, but I've never owned one so I can't say for certain.

- whatever you do DON'T BIND WITH ACE WRAP/BANDAGE. I know you're probably desperate but seriously, that shit is meant for injuries and is designed to get tighter when it stretches so it's a damn good way to fuck your chances of top surgery or just your health in general. Duct tape is a big no as well, and KT isn't a preferred choice but it works for smaller chests, but be sure to put gauze over your nipple otherwise it's gonna hurt like a bitch coming off.

- when you cut your hair, try to find a style that compliments your face, not just whatever the trendy masculine style is. Think boxy and square and you'll get gendered as male more often, or at least people will be more likely to ask your pronouns because of your hair. Ask your cosmetologist/barber what they think and tell them you want a more square style unless they know your situation.

- if you're one of those who wears hoodies to get rid of dysphoria, do NOT get one super huge and wear it out in public. Men's sizes are usually a bit bigger because of broad shoulders, so if you go with your usual size or even a size down and it fits pretty good but is still loose-ish you're gonna find you are more likely to pass as male than with a huge hoodie. Same goes for shirts.

- basketball shorts. oh my gods these things are amazing, they're long enough to hide thighs and hips AND help you pass in the warm month without having to wear a bunch of layers. Literally just. Basketball shorts. Go buy some. You can find them at a lot of resale shops for under US$10 and they're amazing so go get some.

- men's jeans (in the US at least, I'm not sure about other countries) are sized by waist X leg length, and you're gonna have to try on a lot of them before you find your fit. Plus just like anything, different brands are going to fit differently so unless you consistently buy the same jeans you're gonna have to try some on. also, try to avid skinny jeans (at least pre-T) because they're just gonna make your thighs look thicc and it sucks. i have thicc thighs because i'm bigger bodied, so my pair of skinny jeans is basically a pita since they don't have any give to kind of hide the outline.

don't stress leg/armpit hair! they're secondary charachteristics that are generally associated with men, but i know a handful of cis guys that like to shave their armpits/legs, plus there is also movements geared towards women to reduce the idea shaving their body hair is neccessary. so don't sweat it if you don't have any/noticable body hair.

talk with your throat, not your nose. this sound weird, i know, but it's the reason male voices are lower, in addition to thicker vocal chords. it will be weird and hard at first, but just try to redirect your voice to your throat (or look up voice training excersises) and practice a lot! it'll be second nature after a while. i've done it enough that i can't redirect my voice back to my nose anymore haha, so any time i try to do my "real" voice it just ends up in me failing because of habit. you'll get there!

messy eyebrows. you will be surprised how much of a difference it will make. so just like, take a finger and rub it with and against the hair a couple times and boom, ready to go.

don't overdo the makeup. if you choose to do something with makeup, don't overdo it, otherwise you're going to be defeating the origional idea. keep it minimal and you'll be good to go.

finally, don't stress everything. just take your time to get yourself sorted out and meet up with professionals if possible. keeping yourself safe is, and always should be, one of your top priorities. if you guys need anything just drop me a dm and i'd be happy to talk!

[bloodandrosesarenofun]

Landrymat - The Reincarnation Series

(After a long time out of commission I am back to writing! I thought I'd share the excerpt of the first chapter of my novel, inspired by the last two pictures I posted. Let me know your thoughts. <3

Tag list:

@luna-evans-writes )

I feel the night air push at my hair and flannel as both stir up at it's touch. The clock on my cellphone says it's only four-thirty but the sun is already on it's way down for the night, early as every winter. It's taken a while for me to actually feel the winter. Strangely enough it's actually just starting to get warm in Jacksonville again but at the same time all of the typical winter shit is just starting to happen. People ringing bells for charity and lighting up random palm trees in an attempt to be festive, and complaining about seeing people's breathe as though breathing doesn't really happen till it's cold out.

The bus thankfully drops me off only maybe a two or three minute walk from my destination so I don't have to deal with it that much. The being outside. I hate this neighborhood, sort of. It's not like it's particularly bad, and I know I grew up better than my mum did, but it is still pretty ghetto and run down. The laundromat is not so cleverly named 'Landrymat' but the word looks cooler to me on the marquee so I chuckle at it, glowing like an old school neon sign in some Tumblr kid's bedroom. I feel my face warm up as I go up to the door, pausing as anxiety creeps it's way up the back of my neck. I doubt anyone'll know what they are, or even care what I'm washing, but I still feel that despite the logical side of my brain arguing against it.

'CLEANERS AND DRY CLEAN

WASHING MACHINES ONLY 50 CENTS PER LOAD

COME IN AND ASK ABOUT OUR SPECIALS'

I question what kind of specials a laundromat could possibly have but I suppose they mean deals on multiple loads? I glance at my backpack's strap and realize I'm not sure if I need to wash anything separate. The idea of asking up at the desk makes my heart go number than all the years of abuse so I decide to just go in and figure it out myself. "I'm only carrying somewhere over a hundred dollars worth of material in my bag, what's ruining a couple of them," I mutter. 

Walking into the laundromat the first thing I see are all the washers and dryers so it takes me a secound to find the desk. 

I hold my tongue about how stupid I think it is that it's in the back of the room (which it is about the size of a large master bedroom) as I walk up to the counter, I'd never been to a laundromat before and my anxious ass wants to eliminate as much risk of my looking stupid as I possibly can. "Hey," I try and lower my voice, standing straighter than I usually do. It's an effort given I've spent years training my voice to be high when I wanted something from people since mine was too low to be as quickly helped as the prissy tea kettle sounding girls, of course the years of manipulation would bite me eventually. I always hated that voice. "I need to wash, um, two loads of laundry."

"Do you need a dry clean?" Asks the burly desk lady, her hair braided back in a frizzy mess that said she probably didn't care much about work appearances and her tone suggesting she didn't really care about work. I shake my head 'no'. "Then pick a machine and just let me know if you need change." 

"Oh. Okay. Thanks." I walk over to the wall that obviously has machines with wet clothes and soap tumbling in them and want to scream at the lack of signs. I survey the room, finding that there aren't really many people in here, thankfully. One woman sits on her phone in a waiting chair, charging it in the wall and speaking about as loudly about her divorce as it takes to let the whole entire room know her life story. A man strikes out with a red head a couple machines down from me, and an Asian lady who might be the manager talks with one of the employees apparently about the detergents. I pick a machine near the end and set my backpack down on a miscellaneous chair at the last machine. All of my binders are bundled up and shoved unceremoniously in the bag. I grab my wallet out and go to figuring out starting up the machine before I take them out, zipping back the backpack. 

Living in a house where either your grandma or your father do all of your laundry (mostly because they insist) is feeling much less convenient as the feeling of intimidation from trying to figure out a new basic skill sets in. I stare blankly at the space beside the laundry machine, feeling fog set in, when the beep of the woman on the phone's laundry being done sets me off I jump, my heart thudding erratically in my chest. I don't know why I feel this way, and I can't find a rational way to deal with it. I try to do the breathing and focus thing but with nothing to focus on I panic, I dig my nails into the skin just under my wrist, grabbing my hoodie to try and hide it underneath as I claw at myself. It helps me. I feel dizzy but after a moment I'm back on the ground, almost like getting off something unstable for the first time in a while. My mind felt like it was still thinly veiled but I find myself able to lean against the washers. Shaking my head, I nod at my reflection, fixing my t shirt and going to figuring out the laundry. When I get it together, tossing everything from my backpack and quickly shutting it seems more discreet and I contemplate only doing one load just for the convenience of it, but I decide against it thinking about my lack of a job and money to replace for that. The machine turns on with a loud sound and I shut my eyes against it. Feeling physically sick I hastily take out my headphones again from where I've shoved them into my backpack's pocket and begin playing a song from Quietdrive, thinking the guitar and easily placed sexual lyrics will help me take my mind off my mental breakdown. The seats in the 'Landrymat' are cheap but they aren't as uncomfortable as I thought. I sit with my legs up weirdly crooked in the seat, looking around to see if anybody will care about it. The red haired girl from earlier is looking my way but her expression doesn't look irritated so I ignore it. The air is clean smelling, and the chemicals burn my nose, but it's all something to focus on as I zone out, inconsequentially digging my nails into my skin again, my hoodie wrapped inconsequentially around my hands like I was trying to bide off the cold. I feel alittle less stranded with the music blasting. It drowns out the other sounds. It takes a little while for my darks to be done, and I find myself way too intrigued by the fact you could never tell what the mass of black fabric is. It looks so inconsequential when it feels like if anybody saw it, knowing what it was, it would ruin my life.

I remove the clothes and set them in the dryer, taking a secound to pick the right cycles and having to google it to be sure, then put my lighter binders in for the same cycle. Feeling eyes on me, I turn and glance around the laundromat. The manager is nowhere to be seen and the employee is sweeping, the woman on her phone is talking to the man from earlier, and the red headed girl is staring at me. I turn to glance at the counter, and turn back to find her still watching. 

I check my chest, making sure my shirt is on right and you can't see my binder through it or peeking over the top. I haven't said much since I got here and since I know my voice is the least passing thing about me I find it difficult to pinpoint what could be wrong with me. Is she really clocking me? Or trying to figure it out maybe? The girl doesn't seem deterred by the fact I've noticed her staring at me and I can't tell if I find that more unsettling. I get a strange vibe off her, almost like I've met her before, maybe a few times. My head tilts to the side as I study her. She has tan skin, and I can tell she doesn't use as much lightener as most Asian girls. Her face and eyes remind me of a wolf (and I'm not sure if that's crazy to say but) despite her not coming off as intimidating at all to me. Something about her's intriguing, and I find myself wanting to talk to her. She's dressed in all guys clothing, stuff you could probably find after a few minutes of digging through the small grungy punk section of Walmart or the closet of you dad's old teenage bedroom, but she wears it like a model on one of the magazines on the table. Her makeup is carefully done and her eyes are piercing as the stare into mine. "D-Do you need something?" I question, being conscious about my voice as I hear it waiver with nerves. I figure either she'll let me know where I know her from or maybe my saying something first will keep her from outing me, even if there aren't that many people in here. I don't think my heart can currently take being called out as trans* or gay.

Her eyes cut from mine to something behind my head and I turn around with an eyebrow raised in question. In the top right corner to the room is a little TV monitor playing the news on mute. Headlines role over the screen as they talk about the state of the world. I knew things have been bad, but the newscast for the day just seems to be 'The world is fucked pretty well' and I'm shocked at how little I've heard people talk about change despite even the holiday season's passing by. I turn back to find the girl grimacing at the screen. She looks down at me then shakes her head, "No. Nothing at all."

I make a face, closing the washing machine I hit start. She doesn't stare directly but I still catch her looking. "The world's pretty shit for just past the holidays isn't it?" Mentally, I kick myself for talking. If she chose to leave alone why wouldn't I let her? 

She looks at me and nods slowly. "Yeah," she says, "Yeah it is. I don't think anyone gives a fuck." Her worlds hold a specific malice and she grits her teeth, looking back at the screen like she's thinking of someone specific. "Did you really think they would? Are you really into rights or something?" I realize that's a stupid question. "I mean, um, like activist work? Specifically."

She shrugs. "Yeah, no, but I guess you could say I work closely with someone-" she stops herself, "who has a pretty good hand in this business."

"You work for weather station?" I ask.

She smiles, shakes her head. "No. Don't worry about it, I'm probably just over reacting as always. Thinking people have more power than they have. Nobody was gonna pay attention to this," she gestures to the screen and crosses her arms, "anyway."

"Well maybe it'll blow over with at least as little damage to people as it can manage."

"Yeah, I doubt it." She goes up to a machine and pulls out her dry clothes, beginning to fold them for a wicker basket.

I look down at my phone, my mum's texted me and I groan inwardly as I text to let her know I'm okay. "What about you?" I hear the girl ask. 

My eyebrows furrow. "What about me?"

"What do you care about?" She asks. 

It's a strange question. What do I care about? "I guess the environment."

"You guess?" she pauses.

"I mean, yeah."

"That's not a lot of caring." She continues to fold her things into her basket without looking at me, reminding me of an old movie scene. "There's no passion in you guessing."

"I guess-" I stop, then shrug. "I don't care much about a lot of things right now." I admit. Something about the girl's demeanor changes, and I try but I can't read her expression. She seems weirdly different then and I try and find a time when I may've seen her like this. "That's a sad way to live. But I guess I get it."

I shrug awkwardly, shifting my weight on one foot. "I just can't find that passion I suppose."

"You know supposing is just guessing with a different style?"

"I'm surprised someone else does."

"Well. My advice. Find something worth fighting for. Fast." The jokingness fades from her eyes and she suddenly looks very serious, her tone almost a warning.

"Okay." I say. "I'll work on it."

"Good." She smiles, grabbing her basket and heading for the door. "I suppose I'm just not gonna get a name after that." I turn back to my wash and see there's still five minutes to wait for the dryer.

"It's Rosé." I hear a girl say. Turning around, I see the red head walking away without getting an answer from me. "Scorpious," I doubt she heard me. 

When I'm done with my laundry I'm happy to fold my binders back into my backpack without incident. The laundromat is only a short walk and an even shorter bus ride from my house, but considering the fact that the next bus is an hour away I take my phone out and do the next best thing.

"Hey, George. You wanna get pizza with me? I'll pay if you drive."

[queercapwriting]

Hey! I know this is queer girls but I was wondering if you or someone else could write a fan fiction where Alex is non-binary/genderfluid (slightly on the masc side taking low dose T) and they fall in love with Maggie. I'm not trying to take way from what you do but it would be nice to find representation in something for enby people. Like they (Alex or just an enby person in life) still get the girl and have a queer relationship.

This piece by an amazing Anon is more brilliant thananything I could ever do, but hey, I figure, even more positive rep can’t hurt?http://queergirlwriting.tumblr.com/post/158177950334/promised-word-vomit-featuring-nbalex-its-not

Also, random note: I replay their first bar scene togetherin this, and since Alex is already out (in accordance with the wonderfulprompt), I figured I’d take some other liberties and have Maggie not be datinganyone when they meet. Artistic license, okay? Okay.

It was a relief when they chopped their hair off.

Sure, it was because J’onn – well, Hank at the time (Alexwasn’t the only one who’d gone through some identity clarifications in the lastcouple of years) – strongly recommended it because their training wouldn’tnecessarily work too well with long hair.

But it was a relief nonetheless, even if they wouldn’tacknowledge it as such at the time.

Even if they wouldn’t let themselves acknowledge why themirror made them feel like they were crawling out of their skin, like they hadto drink into a stupor nearly every night to force it down, to forget, toerase.

To want girls?

Bad enough.

To want girls and maybe not quite even be one?

Worse.

But it hadn’t been bad, and it hadn’t been worse. Notreally.

It had actually been… good.

Because J’onn had smiled his “of course I knew, I’m psychic”smile and pulled them in for a hug, and Winn had asked if it was still okay ifhe called them “dude” or if it made them uncomfortable, and James had huggedthem and kissed their temple, and Kara?

Kara had wept because she thought it was her fault it hadtaken Alex so long to realize and be okay with such important things. But sheswallowed it quickly enough, because it was about Alex right now, and shewanted to hear everything.

And now? On the extra low dose of T that they got from thelocal clinic – they didn’t want to change their body that much, just a littlebit, just enough – and with everyone at the DEO using the proper pronouns forAgent Danvers and J’onn, Kara, James, and Winn all threatening to destroyanyone who intentionally didn’t, Alex had never felt more alive.

And then some cocky NCPD detective showed up at their crimescene, and they knew they were screwed.

Because coming out to family had been one thing.

Dating? Now? Or like… ever?

No no no.

T or no T, supportive family or no supportive family, AlexDanvers was not exactly good at the flirting thing. At the being good withpeople thing.

Except the strangest thing was that Maggie Sawyer didn’tseem to think so. Because Maggie Sawyer trusted them enough to take them to thealien bar.

To touch them when they reached for their gun.

Alex couldn’t remember when the last time was that they weretouched by someone who wasn’t family, and the touch wasn’t violent.

“How do you think she learned English? She’s my ex,” Maggiewas saying, and Alex’s eyes were wide, because god, god, god, the cute girlwith the dimples and that voice and those eyes and that hair is queer, she’squeer, she’s queer.

But their stomach dropped almost as quickly as their heartrose.

Because she’s probably exclusively into girls.

God dammit.

“I don’t exclusively date aliens, though,” Maggie wassaying, and a lump rose in Alex’s throat. “Or women, not exactly,” shecontinued, her eyes sharp and her voice a little low and her gaze locked bothtentatively and headily on Alex’s face.

“Not exactly,” Alex repeated questioningly, never more awareof their T-lowered voice than they were right now.

“I mean you’re pretty cute, wouldn’t say no to aperson like you,” Maggie had said, and Alex had promptly spilled their drink.

And Maggie hadn’t rolled her eyes or pointed and laughed.She’d shot up from her seat and she’d picked up the bottle and she’d grabbedthe towel off of Darla’s passing shoulder and she’d patted down Alex’s hands,their lap, their chest. Her fingers brushed their collared shirt, the tightnylon of the binder underneath, and Maggie’s breath hitched and her eyes lockedwith Alex’s.

“Hi,” she gulped, and Alex just stared, because their brainhad stopped working.

Girl, pretty girl, smart girl, badass girl, close to meand not disgusted and looks a little turned on by just… who I am, by beingclose to me, what do I do what do I do what do I –

“Sorry there, Danvers, I didn’t mean to get all up in yourspace,” Maggie said as she backed up. “Darla, can you get them another beerplease?”

She said nothing about how or why it had spilled, justoffered Alex a soft grin and pressed the towel into their hands and padded backto her seat across the table.

“So this is where you get all your intel,” Alex tried tosteer the conversation back into terrain they knew, terrain they were confidentin, terrain they could excel in.

Maggie tilted her head and squinted for a moment, like shewas trying to figure out if Alex was flustered or just disinterested.

Alex wasn’t quite sure what conclusion Maggie came to, buther reply was light, banter-y. Maybe even a little flirty.

“Well, when our labs are about as effective as Easy-Bakeovens, we make do with what we’ve got”, Maggie scoffed and nodded her thanks asDarla set down another beer.

“Thanks,” Alex offered Darla, a crooked grin on their face.“And hey, sorry, I didn’t mean to be a jerk out there. I just get protective ofmy crime scenes.”

“Please Danvers, it was my crime scene.”

“Wanna bet?” Alex asked, smiling, because now they were sureMaggie was flirting, because those eyes, that smile, couldn’t mean anythingelse.

Alex felt like they were flying as they stood and grabbedboth of their beers in one hand and offered Maggie their other, nodding towardthe pool table.

“You say this is where your informants go? No better placeto gather intel than at the pool table, right?”

Maggie squinted up at them and licked her lips and accepted their hand. Electricity crackled and Alex’s heart soared.

“A fed who knows how to play. Better every minute, Danvers.”

And Alex had never seen a more perfect smile, or felt more perfect in their life.

[eleutheriana-a]

' i'm here - i'm here now ..." - jedicoded

RESCUE PADMÉ. ACCEPTING.

every time she breathes, she can feel electricity sparking its way down her bones, her veins. she’s sure at least two of her ribs are broken from where they’ve been prodding at her; perhaps more. it’s hard to tell when her whole body aches as though it’s been set on fire, when electrical currents are being sent through her bloodstream on a regular time frame. she could set her watch by it, were she so inclined ––– were she allowed to have anything that kept time. as far as she can tell, it’s been five standard days since SENATOR AMIDALA WENT MISSING, though, she’s started to go a bit delirious from pain and lack of nutrition and hydration the last few days, so it could be more. could be less. she’s not sure. 

they ask her questions, every now and again. not as often as they used to, on the first day. she thinks they know by now that she’s not going to answer; or they’re just trying to wear her down. it’s not going to work, she thinks, with some measure of pride, and no small measure of DREAD. it’s not going to work, because part of preparing to become QUEEN AMIDALA rather than PADMÉ NABERRIE had meant training, and training had meant learning how to resist torture tactics, learning how to open up a box inside of your mind and fold yourself into it, and how to climb back out of it when you’re done ––– because that’s always the tricky part, you see. the climbing back out. this is not going to work, because padmé possesses information vital to the republic, and because she would rather die than see it fall into the hands of the opposition. this is not going to work, because padmé has learned how to resist torture since she was thirteen, and because padmé will let herself go mad before she tells the opposition anything. 

and that, more than the torture, is the scary part. that this is not going to work, but they are not going to stop, and by the end of this she will be DEAD or she will be MAD, and she does not know which one is worse. 

perhaps this is why she does not pay attention to the commotion, to the loud buzzing screams of droids or the barked out orders that sound suspiciously familiar. perhaps it’s started already. perhaps i have been inside the box for too long. the door opens, and she frowns, exhaling an angry sort of a sob from where she hangs by her wrists. let me sleep. let me sleep, let me rest. there should be at least ten more minutes. there’s a voice, and it’s saying her name –––– not her title. her name. her given name.

padmé. padmé. it’s alright, i’m here, i’m here now. 

eyes blink open, with some measure of difficulty, and he wavers into view, and oh, she really has gone mad, hasn’t she ? her mouth opens, shuts, no sound leaving. her throat is too dry, her tongue too stiff. even screaming has been difficult, the last few hours. and then he touches her, softly, carefully, undoing the binder on her left wrist, and then her right, and it’s not until she’s collapsing into his waiting grip that she realizes THIS IS REAL.

and then, upon that revelation, embarrassingly, she begins to weep. ( they’ve been friends since she was a teenager, he’s known her through the invasion of her home planet and countless assassination attempts, and obi-wan has never, NEVER, seen her cry. she chalks her pride up as another injury that will need mending after this. ) for a moment, she is suddenly INCREDIBLY glad anakin is not here to witness the state she’s in, and that thought alone sends durasteel back into her spine. ❝ c–c’mon, ❞ she manages, a shaky hand wiping at her face, her knees locked in an effort to at least ATTEMPT to hold herself upright, ❝ we’ve got to get out of here. ❞

there would be no judgement from him, she knows, allowing herself to be weak for a moment. but there would be judgement from herself; and so she forces herself to take a step forward, even as she rests most of her weight around his shoulder, even as she cannot bear to look at his bright blue eyes BRIMMING with concern and sympathy.