#is taxi his deadname | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yeonchi · 11 months ago

Text

Doctor Who 60th Anniversary Special Review Part 1/3: The Star Beast

Air date: 25 November 2023

Welcome to the Whoniverse. I'm Azuma Yeonchi and I previously wrote reviews of the Chibnall era under the Thirteenth Doctor Reviews banner. With the RTD2 era set to be yet another reboot to the franchise, the fanbase is calling this new reboot the Whoniverse era. This refresh, if you ask me, is well-deserved given what came before this. Although I'm coming into this new era with a more casual investment compared to the 50th Anniversary in 2013, I'll continue to review the RTD2 era even if only for the content.

This is the return of the dream team. Check out my Doctor Who 10 for 10 post on Series 4 for my thoughts on the original run of the adventures of the Doctor and Donna Noble.

As is and will be tradition, here is my spoiler-free thought for the episode. A pre-premiere review published on the BBC's website literally says at the end, and I quote: "Although the show has always been progressive, this special is preachy, and by the end, little more than a delivery system for The Message." My spoiler-free thought is this: "Sometimes, you have to be willing to overlook The Message in order to find enjoyment in this series."

Spoilers are after the break.

New look, new everything (but not really)

The special starts off with a recap of the Doctor and Donna's story in Series 4 before we get the new theme music and title sequence. The title sequence seems a bit shorter compared to previous ones as it clocks in at 30 seconds (the average title sequence appears to be 35 seconds long), not helped by the fact that for the first time, there are cuts in the title sequence. It feels padded and rushed at the same time. Anyway, the theme music and title sequence feels like they incorporated elements from previous sequences, particularly the music which sounds like the 2008 theme made to sound like the 2005 theme, and it's pretty nice.

The logo is a direct redesign of the diamond logo from the Tom Baker era, made to look more 3D. It's also appropriate given how the 60th Anniversary is the "diamond anniversary".

We start off with the Doctor landing in Camden Market. The Doctor helps someone with some boxes, but he suddenly realises that it is Donna Noble. He also learns that she has a daughter, Rose, just as a spaceship is on a crash course in the sky and Donna manages to miss it (as usual). As Donna and Rose head home, the Doctor hears someone calling for them from a taxi and he asks him to take him north to where the spaceship apparently crashed; he learns that the taxi driver is Shaun Temple, who was a minor character in The End of Time as Donna's fiancé, now husband.

The spaceship was revealed to have "crashed" upright in a steelworks; UNIT scientific advisor Shirley Anne Bingley surmises that it pulled up at the last minute and parked. Shirley gets a little interaction with the Doctor, during which he explains that although Shirley knows his current face as his tenth incarnation, he had other faces before regenerating back into this one for some reason. Note that Shirley is using a wheelchair and remember this for later as there is something I need to address.

After the Doctor sneaks off with some UNIT troops to find the escape pod missing from the spaceship, another soldier alerts Shirley to a signal coming from inside the ship. Shirley has the soldiers head up to investigate, but they are taken in by a mysterious power.

The Trans Trifecta

Just as Donna and Rose arrive back home, we hear some passing-by boys openly deadnaming Rose. When they head inside, Sylvia is cooking tuna madras for dinner (apparently it's a big thing in RTD's family according to the audio commentary, but am I the only one who thinks that hayashi rice sounds better?). While Rose goes to the shed, Sylvia states her concerns about accidentally misgendering Rose, something which Donna does share, but the family is nonetheless accepting of Rose's transition.

A boy alerts Rose to the presence of the escape pod. She heads back to get her phone, but in the alleyway, she encounters the Meep, which she brings back to the shed as the Meep is under pursuit from other monsters. At the same time, the boy meets the other monsters, who are the Wrarth Warriors.

Back at the Noble residence, Donna comes into the shed and encounters the Meep, who clings onto Donna's leg as Silvia desperately tries to deny the existence of an alien in the house. The Doctor arrives as well and so does Shaun. The Doctor heals the Meep's injury and during their conversation, Rose questions the Doctor for assuming the Meep's pronouns. When asked about this, the Meep states a preference for the definite article, that the Meep is "always the Meep".

So, there we have the big SJW red flag of the episode and the first of the RTD era, which is what I call the "trans trifecta", namely deadnaming, misgendering and assuming pronouns. I'll talk more about this in my next review, but it's amazing how I managed to catch several SJW red flags in the first episode of RTD2 when it took three episodes to get the first one in the Chibnall era. I guess RTD doesn't pull any punches when it comes to politics and domestics. Also, let me tell you, it's a pain trying not to refer to the Meep as "they". The things I do for these reviews...

Meep the Grifter

The Meep explains to the Doctor that the Wrarth Warriors hunt Meepkind for their fur. It is then that the possessed UNIT soldiers demand a search of the house, but just as the Doctor closes the door on them, the Wrarth Warriors blow through the back door. The Doctor manages to get the Nobles and the Meep five doors down to Shaun's taxi. Though they manage to escape, the Doctor realises that something is wrong.

They head down to an undercover carpark, where the Doctor brings out the Meep and summons two of the Wrarth Warriors to parlay. It is pointed out that there were no plasma weapon marks on the taxi and that a soldier the Doctor found was merely unconscious, not dead. The Wrarth Warriors explain the story of the Meep; their planet once lived in peace until their sun went black with psychedelia and turned Meepkind mad. After the Galactic Council were beheaded and eaten, the Wrarth Warriors were summoned and they fought across the stars, Meepkind willing to die rather than surrender until only their leader was left, Beep of all the Meeps.

With the truth revealed, the Meep kills the Wrarth Warriors and summons the possessed UNIT soldiers, the Soldiers of the Psychedelic Sun, to capture the Doctor and the Nobles. They are about to be taken onboard the Meep's repaired spaceship when they are saved by Shirley. Shirley helps the Doctor get through to the ship to stop the Meep from launching, which would destroy five square miles of London through use of a double-bladed dagger drive. The Nobles are about to escape, but Donna turns back to help the Doctor, Silvia becoming horrified that Donna called him by that name.

Look at this and tell me that the Meep isn't a satire to "left-wing grifters", I dare you.

Donna Noble descends

Donna gets onto the spaceship just as the Doctor is working out how to prevent the takeoff, so now he has to do it without letting Donna die. However, the room is bisected and the Doctor is unable to stop the launch in time. The Doctor points out that there is only one thing he can do, even at the cost of Donna's life, and with her agreement, the Doctor unseals Donna's Time Lord consciousness.

Upon regaining her memories, Donna explains how she gave away the lottery money the Doctor gave her for her wedding (after buying her own house, of course) because of the Doctor's influence remaining in her, wanting to help people in need. She and the Doctor then manage to successfully prevent the takeoff before Donna faints in the Doctor's arms. I wish RTD made the technobabble a bit more believable to the intent here, though I could understand if it was ad-libbed. See Journey's End for how it was done better.

The Meep sends the soldiers in to kill the Doctor, but they are suddenly released from their possession thanks to Rose outside. It is revealed that while the power was too much for Donna alone to handle, it was passed down to Rose which influenced her as well, naming herself after the companion and making toys of the monsters the Doctor and Donna met on their travels. Of note, two of the toys resemble the Cybermen of the Cyberiad and a Lupar, both of them appearing in the Doctor's future when the meta-crisis happened, meaning that Donna would have never known about them. Surely there were other monsters that the Doctor and Donna met on their travels to make it less anachronistic.

The Meep is captured by the Wrarth Warriors to be imprisoned, but not before teasing the existence of "the Boss". The Doctor notes that he still needs to deal with the meta-crisis, but after Donna and Rose briefly berate him for not thinking of this method, being "a male-presenting Time Lord", the two of them hold hands and let the power go. You know, a similar sequence was done in Journey's End but that came off as the Doctor not having human intuition since he was merely a Time Lord; this just comes off as being misandric given everything that feminism and the gender (LGBT) movement have given us since then. Also, remember the Tumblr NSFW ban of 2018 and all that kerfluffle about male and female-presenting nipples? Good times.

The Doctor and the Nobles head to the TARDIS, where Donna is allowed in so they can visit Wilf in sheltered accommodation. The Doctor gives Donna a cup of coffee, but she spills it on the TARDIS console, causing it to explode as the TARDIS dematerialises.

Other general thoughts

Wilfred Mott is mentioned in this episode. The Doctor mistakes him for being dead when he is actually in sheltered accommodation thanks to Kate Stewart wanting to help him as an "old soldier". Although Bernard Cribbins is slated to reprise his role in the specials, he died on 27 July 2022, a couple of months after his involvement in them. He is sorely missed.

Although there have been stories in the past adapted from extended universe material (usually written by their respective writers), this was the first story to be adapted from a comic, the original comic being a Fourth Doctor adventure in Doctor Who Magazine written by Pat Mills and John Wagner and illustrated by Dave Gibbons. John Wagner was not credited because apparently, he and Pat Mills were credited for four comics which they took turns writing, hence Pat Mills was credited as he was mostly responsible for writing this one.

The Doctor gets a new sonic screwdriver after it was destroyed in his first adventure, also published in Doctor Who Magazine. It appears to be a combination of design elements taken from the sonic screwdrivers used by the Ninth, Tenth and Eleventh Doctors. Of note, it has a new ability to draw up holographic screens and shields, meaning that we finally have a better version of the Samuraizer in Doctor Who, and yes, this is my first tokusatsu reference in the RTD2 era. I'd say it was a Shodophone, but there's no brush on the end. The sad thing is that the Fifteenth Doctor is apparently getting another sonic screwdriver because RTD had certain requirements for it. I'll try to talk about it more when we first see it, but it's such a shame to see given that the RTD era used similar designs for the sonic screwdriver and its replacement. It's the Twelfth Doctor's second sonic screwdriver all over again.

Would it have been possible to use the Meta-Crisis Tenth Doctor to remove the meta-crisis energy from Donna before leaving him in Pete's World? Then again, it would have gone against the story if the Doctor had the foresight to do that or even think of it, merely being a Time Lord, let alone a "male-presenting" one.

"There's a word for you, Doctor, and that word is 'jammy'." I really think the Doctor should have responded to Shirley's line with "Jammy Dodger", and no, I don't care if it's an Eleventh Doctor reference. I think it sounds better that way.

The new TARDIS console room looks spacier than others, but I think it's because there's nothing much in it at the moment, not like the Twelfth Doctor's TARDIS. The walls are white like the console rooms of the classic series, but there are LED round things on the walls that can change colour, which is a pretty big diversion from the console rooms of the revived series.

RTD shut the fuck up and stop baiting fans challenge (IMPOSSIBLE)

For each the 60th Anniversary Specials, I'll be covering a special focus topic related to the event. I wanted to start off nice and do a summary of everything released for the 60th Anniversary, but this is an SJW red flag that I absolutely need to address.

On 17 November, a short titled Destination: Skaro was released for Children in Need. It featured a sneak peek at the Fourteenth Doctor and the return of Davros as he shows his assistant, Castavillian, the prototype of what would become the Daleks. As Castavillian wonders what name they should call the new Mark III Travel Machine (based around various anagrams of the word Dalek), the Doctor accidentally crashes in and breaks off a part of the Dalek, replacing it with a plunger upon seeing what it actually was. Noting that “the timelines and canon are rupturing”, the Doctor quickly leaves before Davros returns to his assistant.

Davros’ return was somewhat controversial both for and not for the reasons you expected. While it was nice to see Julian Bleach play Davros before the accident that led to him being paralysed, the main issue I and many others had with Davros’ return was how RTD justified it. In the accompanying Doctor Who Unleashed episode, RTD commented that the reason why he did this was because Davros is an evil guy who used a wheelchair (which was also his life support, mind you) and the production team apparently had an issue with associating disability with evil. And yet he didn’t even try to excuse it by saying it was because of budget issues, which would be a batshit argument anyway because Bad Wolf Productions has the backing of the BBC, Disney and Sony Pictures Television. I know Disney is only partnering with Bad Wolf for the distribution of new episodes, but who’s to say that they don’t have a finger in production?

OK, you know how some people apparently have an issue with popular series like Doctor Who becoming woke? This is the reason why. If you asked a conservative to define what “woke” is and you can’t get a definitive answer out of them, that shouldn’t be a surprise because in all honesty, wokeness is a very broad thing to define. Personally, I define “wokeness” as people caring about things that people don’t care about (especially when people inside and outside of particular demographics claim to speak on behalf of them when some within said demographic disagree) and therefore, really don’t matter in the grand scheme of things. A particular example I can name is all the changes that came about because of the 2020 Black Lives Matter protests and other similar decolonisation/anti-racist/solidarity movements, such as the removal of monuments, the changing of names or the recasting of voice (not live-action) roles because the characters they voiced didn’t match the actors’ racial backgrounds, or even, for the sake of this argument, disabilities.

As someone with an invisible disability, I kind of understand why disability activists and groups like Changing Faces would speak out in support of things like this, but in the end, isn’t that what acting is for? Look, it’s fine to have more representation for disabled people in media, but maybe it should still be okay for able-bodied actors to play disabled characters if there were more consultation and guidance from disabled people in production crews. Even if there are disabled people who don’t believe that disabled villains are that big of an issue, there is a better way around this; instead of not wanting to have disabled villains or changing already existing disabled villains, maybe make an effort to counter it by putting in more disabled characters. Hell, RTD literally did it in this episode by casting Ruth Madeley (who has been disabled since birth) as Shirley, and she’s got darts and rockets in her wheelchair.

RTD’s statement was said in a way that implied that this would be what Davros would look in future appearances (as if destroying an iconic character wasn’t enough, he’s also got to gaslight that he was like that all along). Now, Davros’ status of disability when he invented the Daleks can be explained in extended universe stories and bringing Davros back as able-bodied can be somewhat justified by previously aired material. Although Davros’ accident that paralysed him was the catalyst for the invention of the Dalek, there is apparently an account that the idea was already forming in his imagination before his accident. In The Witch’s Familiar, Davros siphoned regeneration energy from the Doctor and transmitted it into every Dalek on Skaro while also using some of it to renew himself. Now, it was implied that Davros wasn’t able to get a lot of it seeing as Missy managed to save the Doctor, but the Dalek City began collapsing soon after this and the Daleks were never seen to regenerate in appearances following this one.

I don’t believe that Davros would have been able to regenerate himself fully from whatever regeneration energy he was able to obtain, but I could buy it if when Davros’ story continues, we see him walking with prosthetic limbs or crutches. Otherwise, RTD’s justification for showing Davros as able-bodied is absolute and unnecessary jack shit when it was already implied that the short could take place in another timeline before Davros’ accident. This is the only reason why this isn’t more controversial than it shouldn’t have been, especially for such an iconic character whose use of a wheelchair and life support was a part of his character and the origin story for one of the most iconic villains in the franchise. Davros wasn't evil because he was disabled, but his evil did carry over into his disability, and yet his character was not defined by it.

I understand that RTD has the freedom to express whatever opinions and champion whatever causes he wants, but seeing RTD’s interactions with fans on social media makes me want to tell him to shut the fuck up and know his place. This is a twofold argument; one is his justifications for making certain decisions in production and the other is his replies to "haters" (and subsequently blocking them).

In regards to the first argument, there is this whole debacle with Davros, then there was RTD’s explanation for why the Doctor’s clothes regenerated back in The Power of the Doctor. RTD explained that David Tennant wearing the Thirteenth Doctor’s clothes would be a mockery of drag culture and that he feared that it would be weaponised by the media, which can be summed up as him essentially saying to the media, “This would have been drag blackface if we did it that way.” With the Davros debacle, RTD also justified the decision to do this for Children in Need, saying that, “It's a night where issues of disability or otherness or being excluded from society come right to the front of the conversation,” which is absolutely ironic given how he “erased” Davros’ disability in the short then justified himself in doing so right after.

“But Davros isn't a child in this,” I hear you say. Fuck off, RTD knew exactly what he was doing.

Moving onto the second argument, disabled fans of the series, including wheelchair users, have commented about this on RTD’s Instagram. One user who essentially had the same thoughts about this shared them with him and RTD just responded, “Tough.”

I didn’t want to make a big deal out of the previous situation with jacknibbletmaine, but seeing this makes me think that RTD has little to no respect for the fanbase who helped get New Who to what it was. Then again, I would expect nothing less from these Hollywood types with sticks up their asses. At least Chibnall knew to stay off of social media, whether it be because of not being tech-savvy or wanting to avoid the mixed reactions of the fanbase among other reasons. I don't want to call this now, but if RTD keeps going like this, this new era is going to be like post-Twitter Shinichiro Shirakura tokusatsu (Zi-O, Zenkaiger, Donbrothers).

Doctor Who should be a show that tries to appeal to everyone, even if it is clear that RTD is implementing his own flavour of wokeness into it. I knew I was going to have to talk about SJW red flags in this era (particularly with trans representation which I’ll cover in the next review), but I’ll admit, I was blindsided by this controversy when I saw it after watching the Children in Need short. I guess I should be more wary about things like this in future reviews.

Anyway, I’ll continue to have fun doing these reviews and talking about what relevant topics I feel like. If RTD or the fandom police don’t like it, then they can cry about it and cope harder (I say while acting like fandom police).

Summary and verdict

At this point, if you're still surprised that RTD is woke, then I don't know what to tell you, though I understand if you were blindsided by the extent of wokeness shown by RTD, particularly with the Davros debacle. The writer of the pre-premiere review on the BBC website says that "this special is preachy, and by the end, little more than a delivery system for The Message". Right now, I don't agree with it entirely, nor do I disagree with it entirely either. I said in my spoiler-free review that "sometimes, you have to be willing to overlook The Message in order to find enjoyment in this series", but that doesn't mean I won't call out stupid things if they come up.

That being said, this special was alright. It feels more like a series opener rather than an era opener since it's not a post-regeneration story nor did RTD feel the need to reintroduce the series to everyone; he just got right into it. The Fourteenth Doctor is practically the same as the Tenth Doctor, though he is "slightly more human" according to RTD, plus he no longer has the guilt of the Time War or the god complex of the Time Lord Victorious. Why did this face come back? If it was because of Donna alone, that was already resolved in this episode and we still have two left, so clearly that wasn't the actual reason.

Speaking of Donna, this episode did undo a great injustice to her character, which was forgetting the memories of her time with the Doctor. Some people may say that this Moffat-style cop-out undermined Donna's character development in Series 4, that she was the most important woman in the entire universe and yet, she could never know, but I really think Donna deserved this and so did the Doctor, because it was clear that the Doctor felt bad about having to make Donna forget her time with him.

In the end, the world was saved with the power of being non-binary and Rose having her identity affirmed as a result of it. It's a bit cheesy if not cringeworthy, but in the end, that's what Doctor Who is all about. The Doctor getting berated for being "male-presenting", though, is just... no.

Rating: 6/10

Regardless of what you feel about the series or its fanbase, stay tuned next week as I review the second of the Doctor Who 60th Anniversary Specials, Wild Blue Yonder.

#doctor who #doctor who 60th anniversary #fourteenth doctor

3 notes · View notes

crayonurchin · 1 year ago

Note

27 & 30 for Crayon/Cammie, and G for yourself.

27, What causes them to feel dread?

His missing posters, anyone saying his deadname, what was in the ponyverse as Canterlot would, in the human world, probably be a very affluent area of central London, and rejection. That kid is terrified of rejection.

30, Who do they most regret meeting?

GOD that's a good question. It's small but it'd be a taxi driver that picked him up when he was maybe one week into running away. The guy looked at his expensive clothes, assumed he'd be collected in due time by equally rich people, and charged him about ten times as much for his travel fare than he should have. Cammie, being entirely ignorant, just paid, because he was high on freedom and life. It was only after he started realising the actual value of a coin that he realised he'd been robbed, and moreover, robbed without enough money to get anywhere that could help him, beginning his entrapment in homelessness.

That driver probably doesn't even remember the 'brat' he 'taught a lesson to'. Cammie can't forget him and the trust he broke in adults helping him out.

G) What trait of theirs bothers you the most?

His stubborn ideals. He can't accept anything without 'earning' it. And I wrote the damn character so I can just change it but I CAN'T, it's his toxic coping mechanism to feel like this entire misadventure was worth it. But MY GOD does it annoy me XD

like BRO THIS IS BAD YOU ARE IN A BAD SITUATION TAKE THE HANDS REACHING OUT TO HELP YOU and in that same breath I write him doubling down to do it without any aid and I'm like "hehehe mnyes explore the themes of coping with abuse" while also screaming because I'm so frustrated by it XD

#character discussion #crayon #cammie #IDK where in London he'd live but it's the type of place where the residents make six figure salaries #the type of place where all the buildings are white and sparkly and the roads are red paved and then you turn down like two streets #and find the local homeless population #that are conveniently 'shooed' away by police so they can set up more hostile architecture #can you tell I have pissy feelings about the wealthy areas of London :D #HE'D LIVE IN THOSE AREAS RIGHT NEXT TO THE DAMN CONGESTION ZONE

2 notes · View notes

tempi-fantrolls · 2 years ago

Note

Hello there! Been a follower of you for awhile now.

I've just dropped by to thank you for the follow and I'd love to hear about whichever fantroll/fantrolls are running around your brain rn!!!

Hello!!! ^-^

Whoever is running around in my brain you ask?

Ailaxi Taxi!

"Don't call me that."

Sorry not sorry, baby boy. I do what I want.

Ailaxi hates being called any variation that isn't his name. Mostly because he legit picked his name! It's literally his deadname backwards tho, so he gets very little points for creativity.

Ailaxi is an empath so he can feel other people's emotions. He hates it even though he did it to himself (on accident). Despite all his grumpiness, he has a bleeding heart for like everyone. He honestly cares a lot.

#ooc #Ailaxi

2 notes · View notes

hopefullymorethan21 · 3 months ago

Text

A letter to my teenage self

Hi, when I was 15 I was hospitalized for a suicide attempt. I'm 21 now, and I want to talk to my 15 year old self. You grew up a little fast, you didn't have the absolute hardest time of it, and you've met people who had it worse; but you had it worse than you should have. Your psychiatrist asked you why you wanted to attempt suicide, and you said you didn't know. It was mostly true, you had no idea; but it was moreso that you thought you were right, and you didn't want to argue about why you should die.

You want to die, you want to tell the doctor that you want to die; but you also want to get out of the hospital and see your friends, or maybe try again. You're not sure yet. You've known something was a little wrong with you for as long as you can remember, which isn't very long. Hell I can't remember any more than a memory or two from before the age of 11.

I can remember nightmares, I can remember struggling to understand social situations - even though I was supposed to be a smart kid, who knew most of the things adults knew - and I remember the short flashes of utter helplessness I felt when a world class martial artist would throw me into my bedroom floor over and over and over again. I remember lending a lego to a girl in my kindergarten class, and a boy with short curly hair saying hi when I switched schools in second grade. I remember following my sister around the neighbourhood on a bike, and asking to play with her friends.

I remember the psychiatrist, I remember him saying that running away from home wouldn't do me any good because I would just eventually realize that I was running from myself. I remember saying "I know that," and thinking I did. Now, at the age of 21, I look at myself and I am terrified of it. I don't know who it is, all I know is that it hurt my friends, my partners, and me.

I remember the psychiatrist asking if my breakup had anything to do with me attempting suicide, and I remember the slow frames of me grabbing the pen in between us and ramming it into his eye-socket. In retrospect, no one in the room would've been fast enough to stop me, and he wouldn't have been strong enough. He's died from a stroke since then though, and for some reason it made you sad. You looked at his obituary and found out he used to preach at your church, and you remembered the kind old man saying you had a bright future. You remembered the sad look on his face when he looked at his patient sheet on your first day.

Right now, I'm thinking about something else he said: "You've been growing up too fast, and I think it could help to grow down a little bit." At the time, this seemed stupid; you wanted to grow up faster so you could get away from your dad. You're gay, and trans; and your dad doesn't like either of those things very much. I have my own apartment now and he still doesn't like those things, he loves me though; and even though he uses my deadname and asks if I have a girlfriend, he talks to me.

When I was you, I never wanted to see him again, and when you turn 18 you won't. You'll walk the 10 kilometers to Eena Lake, where you and Grace hung out in the middle of the night, and you'll call a taxi to get to Charles' house; you don't know him yet, he comes later. For the next two years, you will not speak to your father; but one day you'll find that you miss him.

That seems crazy to you probably, you don't want to get called a faggot or be forced to sneak a change of clothes out of the house just to get dressed. You don't want to constantly be paranoid that everyone you meet is going to tell your dad about how you were dressed at school today, and you don't want to get thrown into sheds. Don't worry, I remember what it was life in excruciating detail. I remember the "mouth shut" rule around social workers and counsellors, and my neck still has those bursts of pain that make my head feel like it's about to explode.

But he's my dad, and the guy who carried you and Kimi around on his biceps didn't cease to exist the second he made a mistake. Bike rides for ice cream didn't retroactively not happen because he called you a fat loser. I miss him because I desperately want to grow down again, and to listen to the comedy central radio channel on the way home from judo practice.

You can't grow down now though, you're 21 years old and it would be pathetic; you do feel pathetic. Because, I'm sorry to say; but things haven't gotten better, They've gotten so much worse and it's almost entirely your fault. Going outside is scary now, and talking to people is scarier. People dislike me the second they look at me now, and wearing a mask just delays that until they hear me speak. I'm completely out of money, and have unstable housing and food.

This might not seem that bad to you - sleeping with Alex on a blanket that Joanna gave you; just to cook your food on a waffle maker in the school hallway - but you aren't capable of doing as much anymore. Your muscles have pretty much all gone away, and it's been about 24 hours since you were high; after being high for about seven hundred and twenty hours consecutively. When I say that I feel pathetic, I mean that I just can't do that much anymore.

It's taking every ounce of willpower in my body just to not load a video game on my computer right now, and the remaining drops are spent on not grabbing a dab pen. It isn't just my will though, it's my mind. I'm struggling to do math that you could do in your head in a few seconds, and every word in this document took a second to spell.

Right now, I really want to die too. I wish that I could take my car and drive it off a cliff and have that be the end, but I'm not going to do that; and if you hadn't either then it might be easier not to. I can't resolve this for you nicely, but one day I'll be able to and you'll be able to see every part in making that happen; so stay tuned for one day.

1 note · View note

novis-musica · 5 years ago

Text

Josie analogical au

With Logan as Brett Emmons, Patton as the taxi driver, Deceit (or Remus) as Johnnie, Roman as one of the exes, and Virgil as Josie. Virgil is trans and not out yet, and Josie is his deadname. I'm sorry I had this thought listening to Glorious Sons this morning and I can't get it out of my head.

#analogical #sanders sides #ts sides #anxiety sanders #logic sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #deceit sanders #patton sanders #unsympathetic deceit #i guess?#sanders sides au #ts sides au #josie #the glorious sons

7 notes · View notes

fluidityandgiggles · 5 years ago

Text

Sleep Is For The Weak - Chapter 16

Previous Chapters: Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 5, Chapter 10, Last Chapter

Writing Masterlist - for previous chapters not otherwise linked, Read on AO3

Notes (I guess): I realize it took me way too long to do this, but I can explain. Uhh...

So for those of you who don’t know, I haven’t been home since September, and I won’t be home for another... two weeks, more or less? I’ve been to places where I couldn’t know if I’d have working wifi or any wifi at all so updating this fic has been a mission. So I do whatever I can to update at reasonable times.

With that being said, I finished this chapter way back last month while on a two week long trek in Nepal and haven’t had the opportunity to upload it, so I’m grateful I can now. Because this one... was a hell of an exposition ride for a lot of shit I planned a long long time ago.

Quick disclaimer - some bits of this chapter deal with the definition of transgender, and a specific learning disorder. The definition of transgender mentioned in this chapter has been taken from the DSM-IV-TR, which is a defunct edition of the DSM that came out in the year 2000 and has been replaced by the DSM-5 in 2013. The definition has since been changed and separated, and I believe it is now called gender dysphoria, though I’m not quite sure. But it does not reflect my opinions on how dysphoria is related to being trans, I do believe (and have several sources to back me up, including the DSM-5) that you don’t have to be dysphoric to be trans. The same goes for this learning disorder, what is said in this chapter reflects only the way the characters think of it - and it will change later on, I can assure you - and not at all what I would think or say about it.

As is tradition, thanks to @whatwashernameagain for KHS and for all her patience with me and my shenanigans (and not getting frustrated with my stupid ideas) and to @broadwaytheanimatedseries for the original idea and for giving me the best commentary for my screenshots when I send them. And also to @winglessnymph , @asleepybisexual and @anony-phangirl , who have fallen out of the loop but are still there. I know I haven’t sent you anything much in recent days, but... still.

Tag list (sort of): @bunny222, @ab-artist, @sweet-and-sour-shadowling, @ilovemygaydad, @your-username-is-unavailable, @virgilcrofters, @violetblossem, @maybe-i-like-the-misery, @book-of-charlie, @thatsanswitch, @thatrandomautist, @thebiggestgaypirate, @marshmallow-the-panda

(Wanna be tagged? Lemme know!)

Trigger warning: period appropriate transphobia (the early 00s were not exactly trans-friendly). This chapter also includes (rather controversial) opinions/ideas about the definition of transgender (as mentioned in a now-defunct, but then the most recent, edition of the DSM), discussion of abortion, mentions of past self-harm, discussion of personality disorders and hospitalization, panic attacks, and description of rejection sensitive dysphoria. I’m pretty sure I forgot something though, so let me know if I have so I can add it.

—————

Friday, May 30th, 2003

"...your valedictorian, Jenna Miranda Wheeler."

"Class of 2003…"

New York was beautiful in May.

Sadly, that was not where Remy was heading today.

According to Linda, Stephen was going to go on a business trip for at least two weeks in June, starting late May. So Remy was invited over for the summer. Not his first choice, but Leah begged him to come and Emile said that it might be a good idea. But…

Spending more than a day at Linda's, combined with the knowledge that Jenna and India have graduated just a few days ago and Chris hasn't, was a good enough reason for Remy to feel shitty. And he did.

The main upside was that Georgia was beautiful in May too.

He managed to cheer himself up somewhat by thinking of the good things that happened this month - Emile's TOVA results (9/9 inattentive symptoms, 4/9 hyperactive-impulsive, definitely has inattentive type ADHD), India's name being called at graduation instead of her deadname, Jenna graduating valedictorian, his friends moving to Virginia and so on - by the time the taxi from the airport pulled up in front of the, by now, rather familiar house.

And then his stomach dropped.

Stephen was still there.

"Do you need help with those bags, Rebecca?" He asked, eyeing the massive, neon pink duffel bag and the incredibly heavy purple backpack that sat on the sidewalk near Remy as he tapped his foot nervously.

"Not from you I don't. Thanks for the offer, but… no thanks."

He was too proud to admit that the duffel was too heavy for him to lift and he could barely drag it, but he packed most of his clothes and books in it. Some were mailed home. But not most.

"That shit gotta be heavy as fuck—"

"I said, no thank you. Now, move out of my fucking way."

Leah was napping by the time he finally dragged everything inside, but Rachel was doodling in the living room, smiling brightly when she saw him come through the door. She abandoned her crayons and waddled all the way to hug him.

As much as he barely knew her, Remy definitely loved Rachel too.

"I'm going to daycare," she mumbled somewhat, trying to use words she didn't quite know yet. "You have to come!"

"You're such a big girl!" He ruffled her pigtails, picking her up. She was so light for a two-year old. "Going to daycare already?"

"Mmhm."

"I'm so proud of you!"

She just hugged his neck and babbled on about her friends and daycare, her hand flying and her almost falling from his hold. This was another happy thing to add to the list.

He wasn't happy. But this was happy. For now.

—————

Stephen left on his business trip at around seven thirty, and Remy took a huge sigh of relief. Leah also woke up from her nap a few hours earlier, all grumpy and upset for some reason, and Remy tried talking her into telling him why she was so upset.

Linda said it was because of the nap. Leah only got even more upset.

"Why am I here?" Remy asked during dinner, while Leah entertained herself (and he was sure she didn't notice much) and Rachel was almost dozing off. "We haven't had a single good interaction since I was five years old, Linda."

"Am I no longer allowed to want to be around my son, Remy?" She stung back, looking anything but as aggressive as she just sounded.

"I'll be honest with you, kid. I know you don't like me. I can understand why. But what I don't understand is why you're bringing this up in front of your younger sisters. They're too young for this to—"

"I saw a movie about penguins on TV," Leah started rambling. "They're really weird…"

The argument stopped just as quickly as it started, and Leah was allowed to go on and on about penguins bringing rocks to each other. So he proceeded to just glare at Linda, who helped Rachel eat her pasta. This was awful, this was absolutely the worst situation he could've found himself in, and… he just wanted out.

And he kept wanting out even as Rachel already went to sleep, Leah was busy doing her homework last minute, and Linda asked Remy to help her clean up.

"I'm only here because Leah asked me to," he almost hissed as he was tasked with packing the leftovers in incredibly familiar tupperware containers.

"I want to spend more time with you, Remy. I'm still your mother—"

"Well, you haven't acted like it, like, ever!"

Linda sighed, putting the plate she was holding in the dishwasher. "I don't want to sound like I'm making any excuses—"

"So don't make any."

"—but I was barely your age when I had you. This is no excuse, I'm not trying to say that I had no idea what I was doing because of that, but I sacrificed so much of my life to raise you!"

"You could've aborted me! You could've been smart and used protection in the first place!"

"Condoms aren't a fail-proof—"

"Face it, Linda. You never wanted me. You're not homophobic or transphobic for the sake of it, it's clear you have at least some level of respect to queer people. You just never wanted me in the first place."

The next plate she was holding broke in the sink. "How fucking dare you say that?!"

"I'm just saying—"

"I have never wanted something in my life more than I wanted you!" Her screams hurt Remy's ears, going as far as to make Leah cry in the other room. Linda immediately lowered her voice. "I know I've been a bad mother to you. I regret every decision I've ever made while I was married to your father, except being married to him and having you. And I've spent every day since leaving you and your father regretting my decisions, and wanting to make it up to you, but you kept pushing me away. How do you think that makes me feel, huh? Do you still think you're the only one who's been robbed of something in this relationship?"

"...you had Leah while you were still married to Dad" was all he could say. And he hoped he'd have the last word. "Was she a mistake too?"

Sadly, you can't always get what you want.

"Leah… is problematic. But she wasn't a mistake either. None of you are, and you can stop saying that. Whatever is wrong with her does not make her a mistake. Just as your gender identity disorder does not make you a mistake."

"No, you're right. It doesn't. It makes me transgender. A female-to-male man. You know those terms? Female to male, transgender? It's what people call it nowadays."

There was another long moment of silence as Linda cleaned up the broken plate and Remy finished packing up the leftovers, and Leah stopped crying.

It was a stressful silence. Very typical of home life with Linda Brigham-Hollander.

"...you may not have come at a time I liked," she sighed after everything, falling into a chair. Remy was ready to leave the kitchen, but this wouldn't let him. "I know we could've… waited a few more years. But you came when you did, and I don't regret that. You were never a mistake. I may have a hard time understanding… what… your identity. I'm trying my best to educate myself now, you know—"

"That's almost five years too late."

"I don't know what Leah told you about her school life, but whatever hardships she got understanding stuff—"

"She has no trouble understanding stuff as far as I can see—"

"Educational stuff. School material. She got that from me. Education comes harder for me, you may not know that. I was never the brightest student and I only completed my high school diploma when you were three years old. Don't get me wrong, this has nothing to do with you. But I couldn't learn when you asked me to. It felt like—"

"Linda, it didn't take Dad five years to be able to call me by my name and use the correct pronouns. Even if you don't mean it this way, this is bullshit to me. And I hope you get it."

And then he got up and left, leaving her to her own. If she cried, well… that's none of his business.

—————

Sunday, June 8th, 2003

Nathalie and Emile were getting ready for the Tony awards when Emile had a panic attack.

No, that's not true. Emile has been having panic attacks all week long for some weird reason he couldn't explain, most likely not being able to talk to Remy all week long since his phone died and he couldn't get a new one just yet. But today was the worst one. So Julie lent him her phone for a call, to explain himself so he won't panic so much, but…

But Remy wouldn't understand. He'd be mad if Emile tried to call him from Julie's phone because of some panic attacks… and then he'd hate him, and then… and then…

Then he wouldn't have a best friend anymore…

What was India's phone number again…?

She picked up on the fourth ring. "India McGinty—"

"It's Emile," he almost sobbed the second she picked up. "I… I have a question…"

"Oh, honey, of course. What is it?"

"Do you think Remy would hate me…? My phone died and I can't get another one until next week and—"

"Emile, are you… are you crying right now?"

"No… I did before, I just…"

She sighed before clearing her throat. That's it, she hates him too—

"Do you mind if I pass you over to Jenna? She's better at this than me."

"...okay…"

"...Emile?" Jenna's voice was softer than India's somehow. She'd never raise her voice, but Emile was scared of the people who'd be there when she does once she becomes a lawyer. "Can you please explain what's going on?"

"Well… my phone died, and I can't tell Remy because he's with his mom and I don't wanna call him while he's with his mom, so I'm scared that if I don't talk to him all summer he'll hate me and then he won't talk to me anymore and I can't—"

"Let's slow down, you're only upsetting yourself. Remy is your best friend, right?"

"Yeah… I mean, I like him a bit more but, but it's not like I can just tell him that, and…"

"That's fine, we're not gonna focus on this for now. That's for another time. But he's your best friend, right?"

"Yeah, I just told you!"

"So why would he hate you for something like that? He's going to understand, I'm sure."

"I don't… know… it just feels like he might…"

"I know. This feeling fucking sucks, doesn't it?" She chuckled. Emile couldn't answer to that. He just… he couldn't. "But it's not healthy to dwell on this feeling. It might become a self-fulfilling prophecy if you fret about it so much."

"What do you mean…?"

"...have I ever told you that I was institutionalized until my second year of college?"

He couldn't stop his jaw from dropping. "No…"

"Okay. So I'll tell you now. I… how squeamish are you? I don't want to… trigger anything…"

"I don't know… I don't… I don't think I really mind much…?"

"Okay, I… I'll censor it anyway. Is that okay with you?"

"Yeah."

"So when I was fourteen, I started harming myself. It's not… it was what you'd think, but not for the most part. I didn't cut really. But my parents knew, and they gave a ton of fucks and not just because they had a reputation to uphold like I thought they did back then. They just… they gave all the fucks."

"Okay… I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"Don't apologize, you had no part in this. And you never will. I promise."

"Okay."

"Two years after I started, my parents sent me to a psych ward. At that time they thought I was depressed, it was too early to diagnose me properly, so… I've lived for three years on doses of antidepressants that didn't do a whole lot, because nobody knew. I was finally diagnosed with borderline personality disorder when I was nineteen, my medication prescription was fixed and I was let out of there when they decided I'm doing well enough to be able to live on my own again. I spent my first year of law school with a nurse attached to my hip, can you imagine?" She laughed, and Emile struggled to hold back a smile.

"Actually yeah… my sister is narcoleptic…"

"Oh shoot, sorry… didn't mean that. Anyway… back to the topic at hand, yeah? I was… infatuated, for a lack of a better word, with this guy. His name was David. I thought I was in love with him, but it turned out I idolized him to a point where he became my favorite person, and that was an incredibly toxic experience. He was like… like Angelina Jolie in Girl, Interrupted. But dialed up to eleven. He was a fucking asshole and I haven't seen him in years… he was transferred to another place after an incident that involved one of my friends, she ended up almost killing herself because of this guy. And my anxiety over being perfect for him, over making him like me and making sure that he keeps liking me, made me extremely unhealthy in the long run."

There was a pause, possibly for Emile to process. Most likely. This wasn't fair… this was totally not fair! Why did good people have to go through shitty things?

"My next favorite person after him was a girl I dated for a couple months before India." Jenna sounded kind of breathless at that, as if she was crying herself. "And… she made me talk to her. She asked me questions for clarification all the time and helped me with my anxiety, especially when I felt like this. I was tiring, but… it's the effort she put into this that counted. Emile… you gotta talk to Remy."

"But… but I can't…"

"Who said? Communication is key. I know it might be really hard, especially for you, but… call him. It's his birthday soon, right? In July?"

"Yeah…"

"Call him. Write down everything you want to tell him and tell him then. I promise it'll make your anxiety a lot easier to manage."

————

"Remy," Linda called from the living room as he was heading to bed. This was becoming ridiculous…

"I told you, I'm not talking to you for the rest of this—"

"I can't read a single word in this cursed book of yours."

"...what book?"

"This DSM thing. Remy, darling, why do you need this book? It's so difficult to understand, couldn't they have written better books about this?"

He ended up not going to bed after all, instead resorting to making himself tea and going to sit on the couch next to her.

"Mom, that's… that's the diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders, mom. It's existed since the fifties. This is the revised version. They can't make it simpler to understand, I don't think."

"Well, your grandma's always said that if a child can't understand what's written, it's because the writer is bad at what they're doing."

"And so have a lot of my professors, but sadly this is what we have to work with. What's so confusing anyway?"

"I was trying to read about your… your thing, the gender identity disorder thing…" she turned the book to him. The passages in this section have been highlighted the day he bought the book and he knew them by heart. Well, for the most part. "I'm sorry, but the words are just… long and confusing."

"...that's fine… it's totally fine, I can… I can simplify it for you…"

"I don't need you to simplify it for me, I know English. I just… I can't read this! Big and confusing academic paper words."

Oh fuck…

"I'm a painter, not an academic, Remy. I can't read. You know this. You've known this forever."

"I forgot you're dyslexic…"

"And what does forgetting that help you?"

"Nothing… let's… let's go over this together, okay? The sections that apply to me." He waited for Linda to nod, rather reluctantly, before putting on his own pair of reading glasses.

"So, to diagnose someone with gender identity disorder there are two criteria, identifying with the opposite gender and feeling dysphoria. In order to meet those criteria, you gotta not be intersex, which I think is pretty stupid, and also it has to affect your daily life."

"Yeah, I know that. Your shrink told us that when you were fourteen. Let's move on, okay?"

"...okay. In boys, aka trans girls, this doesn't apply to me… okay. Girls with GID, aka trans boys, display a intense negative reactions to parental expectations, blah blah blah, you never had any expectations of me so this doesn't apply…"

"No no no no no, you will read this out. No skipping."

"Okay, fine! Girls with GID display intense negative reactions to parental expectations or attempts to have them wear dresses or other feminine attire. Some may refuse to attend school or social events where such clothes may be required... They prefer boy's clothing and short hair, are often misidentified by strangers as boys, and may ask to be called a boy's name. Reminds you of something?"

"...go on."

"Their fantasy heroes, yeah no, I never had fantasy heroes…"

"You had She-Ra."

"Yeah, but she made me gay, not trans, mom. Prefer boys as playmates, contact sports… yeah, none of that either…"

"You used to play soccer as a kid. Your dad has a lot of pictures of that, you know."

"I… didn't actually know that… huh."

"You didn't learn to kick a ball from your father, though. I'll tell you that."

It took a bit of time for Remy to stop himself from giggling, deciding to sip his tea instead. It didn't work very well.

"Yeah… well… moving on, ‘they show little interest in dolls or any form of feminine dress up or role-play activity. A girl with this disorder may occasionally refuse to urinate in a sitting position. She may claim that she has or will grow a penis and may not want to grow breasts or menstruate. She may assert that she will grow up to be a man. Such girls typically reveal marked cross-gender identification in role-play, dreams and fantasies.' Does any of this sound familiar, mom? Because I don't… I don't actually know."

"Until now… yeah. All of that sounds incredibly familiar. Look, I…"

"I know what's you're gonna say, and please don't. It's fine. I know you panicked, I know you said things you didn't mean to, but… can we leave that for now? That's a bridge we're gonna deal with later. Now, adults with GID…"

They ended up staying up for far longer than either of them wanted to, but it was alright. Linda wanted to learn. Remy was willing to teach her.

They only barely made it to bed at three in the morning, the page bookmarked for tomorrow, when they'll continue reading.

#kylo cant write #sanders sides #remy/sleep #emile picani #keep him safe #sleep is for the weak #the remy centric prequel #tw: period appropriate transphobia #tw: mental health discussion #tw: invalid/defunct definition of transgender #tw: discussion of abortion #tw: mentions of self-harm #tw: personality disorders #tw: hospitalization #tw: panic attacks #tw: rejection sensitive dysphoria #wow this is a long one

17 notes · View notes

transgenderteensurvivalguide · 7 years ago

Note

Hi! ~side note, thank you for this blog~ Yesterday I went on a night out and got super drunk, then, in front of other people for some crazy reason, when ordering a taxi I used my deadname!? No one's even used that name in months and months, I wasn't even thinking that it just kind of came out. I kind of managed to cover it up, but, why did I even do that!? Is that normal??

Devon says:

Being drunk impairs your judgement and slows reaction time, so it does make sense that you would be more likely to use your own dead name when drunk.

Don’t drink alcohol if you are a minor; it harms your development, is very unsafe and unhealthy, and is usually illegal.

Please don’t use ableist language in your asks.

Even when they’re not drunk, lots of people misgender themselves or use their own dead names by accident. It’s okay to slip up.

#devon says #alcohol mention #alcohol #intoxication #deadname #misgendering #ableist language #Anonymous

23 notes · View notes

sidewayspachinko · 7 years ago

Text

A Second Son

Another piece for the @lgbtqvld Summer Bash, once again, featuring Broganes.

Link to Ao3

Day 6: Coming Out | Picnics

“Do I have to go, Shiro? Why can’t I stay with dad? I don’t want to go.” Keith pleaded.

“Keith, we haven’t seen mom for a year.” Shiro replied.

“Yeah, a year ago when my pronouns were still she.”

“Keith, you have to tell her eventually.”

“But what if she doesn’t accept me like you and dad did?”

“Then you don’t have to spend time with her.”

“Shiro, we have to spend a whole month there. What if she calls me by my deadname the whole time?”

“I’m right here to support you, Keith. If anything happens, I have your back.”

“I don’t want to spend a whole month being misgendered and deadnamed.”

“I won’t let that happen. I promise. I’ll defend you the entire time.”

“But—”

“Keith, everything will be fine. Trust me. And if they’re not, well, you’re not obligated to love anyone who doesn’t love you for who you are. You will never be obligated to deal with people’s bigotry, family or not.”

“Okay…”

“Here you are boys. That’ll be twenty-eight fifty.” The taxi driver in the front informed, placing his vehicle into park.

Shiro reached into his wallet and paid the fare. He exited the car, pulling his and Keith’s luggage with him. “Coming Keith?”

“Do I have to?”

“Well, I’m not paying the cab driver again, and you don’t have any money. So, yes.”

“Shiro, please.”

“No, Keith.”

“Shiro, I’m begging you.”

Shiro helped Keith out of the car and wrapped his arms around him in a comforting embrace. Once he let go, he spoke again, “Keith, you’re not obligated to come out to anyone. You know that, right?”

“But—”

“No buts. If you don’t want to come out to mom, I won’t force you. This is about you, Keith. If you feel more comfortable in the closet, then that’s your decision, and it’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Shiro signaled for the yellow car to depart, and the brothers were left standing in the driveway with a small house in front of them. “What do you want to do Keith?”

Keith’s fingers fiddled with the zipper of his jacket, eventually zipping it up halfway. “I think… I think I’m going to tell her.”

“I’ll be right here to support you.” Shiro stepped down the stone walkway. “Want to do the honors?”

The younger of the two nodded and pressed his finger into the doorbell.

Shuffling could be heard from the inside of the house before the large door swung inwards, “My babies are home!” Without a moment to spare, the black-haired woman wrapped her arms around both boys, pulling them as close as possible.

“Great to see you, mom. It’s been a while.” Keith replied before he was met with a gasp.

“What happened to all your hair?”

“I cut it off. I didn’t want it long anymore.”

“But it was so pretty.”

“I… Yeah…”

“Actually, there’s something you two needed to talk about.” Shiro interjected.

“What is it darling?”

“I… Mom. I’m a boy, I’m transgender, and I’d like you to call me ‘Keith’. This is who I am, and I just hope…” He paused, then continued, “I just hope that you can accept me.”

“Keith?”

“Yeah…”

“You’re a boy now?”

“Yeah.”

“Since when?”

“Since forever. It just took me a bit longer to figure out than everyone else.”

“Well then, I guess I have two strong men to help me carry in your luggage now.”

#voltron #vld keith #takashi shirogane #vld shiro #broganes #vld #voltron: legendary defender #voltron fanfic #lgbtqvldsummer #imagination writes

17 notes · View notes

torvus-bong · 7 years ago

Text

not asking for money. tw in bold

I just need to vent with some degree of anonymity but still get it out... it’s about my family mostly, I was assaulted last weekend and there’s a lot of ablism and transphobia happening. there’s talk of cancer, self harm, suicide. I don’t really have irl friends and im really lonely. bc i dont really have anyone to talk to i get long winded. so, long post. idk who else to tell. im just shouting into the void and hoping someone hears me. :’( I need loving vibes if you read this.

so if that’s not something you want on ur dash just scroll past.

So, quick background, my mom has brain cancer, her husband is an entitled, sexist asshole, and my brother’s also an asshole. It’s fair to say my mom and I are assholes sometimes, too. I’m mentally ill; I have been formally diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, bipolar 2, epilepsy, and generalized anxiety. I’ve been on disability for the past four years. My mom has been dealing with her brain tumors and their adverse effects for fifteen years, although the cancer diagnosis is actually very recent.

I came out as Two-spirit (non-binary) about three months ago. I changed my name and my pronouns. Everyone has been great about it, and by that I mean the miscellaneous acquaintances I sometimes interact with, and my partner & friends on the internet... everyone but my fucking family.

I give my mother a pass. I know she has memory problems and she really tries her best. It’s okay. But her husband and my brother? They don’t even try. In fact, they’ve all (including my mom) very deliberately deadnamed me for the specific purpose of hurting me.

My brother is excessively rude to me and I don’t understand why. He’s 19 and I’m 23. About a month ago, he walked in the backyard while I was outside vaping, and he tried to hand me my headphones that I’d forgotten in his truck. I can’t pause a vape bowl without wasting a bunch, so I asked him, “Can you throw it on my bed on your way to your room?” (His room is beyond mine in the hallway.) Well, if I didn’t just ask for the whole fucking world. He slammed them down on the concrete and yelled at me that he just came home to do yardwork and he isn’t going inside. Ok. My mood was really low that day and that upset me a lot. When he was done and coming back to the yard I asked him to apologize for yelling for no reason, but he just yelled at me again.

I went inside to clean the kitchen, because cleaning helps me feel better sometimes. He comes inside (omg, I thought he wasn’t?) and starts antagonizing me again when I told him he was being very rude and hurtful. Tells me I was an asshole to him when we were kids and I never said sorry for all the shitty things I did. In actuality, I have apologized for specific wrongs because I grew up and felt guilty about them, yknow? But when I said this all he shouted was, YOU’VE DONE THINGS YOU’RE NOT EVEN AWARE YOU’VE DONE TO ME.

I was holding a sharp knife when he said this. the voice in my head told me I am awful and need to be punished. Long story short, I cut myself too deep. I lost a lot of blood and nearly went into shock. He drove me to the hospital and my mom met us there. since it was after her treatment and she was tired, I told her to go home. I thought that my brother would come back or that my mom would call or text me. Nah, they just left me there by myself, for seven hours, while I waited for stitches in a mental health crisis. Nobody texted me. I got a taxi home. :’( He never apologized.

Now, dave, my mom’s husband... he could get his own post, that’s how much I hate him. he’s been with my mom on and off for 20 years, and they got married 7 years ago. I never liked him. when I was a teenager, he felt it necessary to install a program on all the computers I used that took a screenshot every two seconds and keyloggers. He was supposed to stop when I was 18 but he didn’t. This caused a huge fight... he’s also screamed in my face before. Keeping in mind he is 6ft 4in and 300lbs and I’m barely 5ft 7in and 200lbs. When I was a minor, he’s tried to hit me. He was chasing me into my room, and I closed the door and put my back to it. He threw himself against it three times and broke in. It left a serious, doorknob-shaped bruise on my lower back. He tried to bend me over his knee to flog me with a belt. I was a 16 year old girl.

He’s also turned off the power to my and my brother’s side of the apartment (when we lived in one, we live in a house now). My brother couldn’t fall asleep without the weather channel as a kid, and when I couldn’t sleep I wrote. He would turn it off so I didn’t have lamplight to write by in my insomnia, and upset my brother’s sleep in the process. My mom was pissed when we told her.

I use medicinal cannabis, but before I got my licence, I relied on street stuff, and no one in my household (except for my mom) approved of this. One time, when I was in a really bad crisis, she gave me ten dollars and told my brother to drive me to get a gram. I left my bong and grinder on the balcony, out of sight. When I got back, it wasn’t there, so I checked my backpack thinking maybe I put it away. Wasn’t there. I remembered seeing dave with a garbage bag when I walked in... he never ever ever lifts a finger around here. I put two and two together and go talk to my mom and tell her that I’m pretty sure he’s trying to take my shit. I was in a crisis and gosh, I really fucking needed this bullshit right now. He played stupid at first (”What?! She has drug paraphernalia in the apartment?!”) but when my mom wasn’t buying it, he ran out the apartment with my bong and grinder in the garbage bag. She runs after him and tells him to stop at the end of the hallway. Basically, I got a running start and knocked him over, shattering my bong. I hurt him pretty bad, too. I did get my grinder back though and my mother bought me some papers. This wasn’t the only time when he’s taken and broken my shit.

This asshole has also cheated and lied to my mother multiple times. He believes he is entitled to relationships with other women and that my mother should just get over it. This is not within the boundaries of their marriage.

My mom is generally a fucking angel and she deserves so much better. He does nothing around the house, everything falls on my shoulders bc mom is ill and my brother is a lazy, entitled shitcouch as well. dave is also never wrong. You literally can’t argue with him because no matter what you say, his response is the correct one. And even if you are right and he can’t deny it, he’ll pretend to think it through/physically work through the problem ‘by himself’ and pretend he came up with the right answer all along. That kind of person.

So he was calling my mom an emotional abuser because she doesn’t trust him, for the reasons in bold above and also because of the things he’s done to me. Wow, right? Apparently, because the cheating and lying happened “years ago” (in reality, the most recent incident was six months ago), she should just get over it and trust him again. You know what? The shit that I did as a teenager happened years ago too. Maybe get over your fucking grudge before you try to tell someone else to get over their very justified “grudge”.

He was accusing her of emotional abuse because of this, and because she got really upset when he disappeared into the basement for a six hour nap. He had only been awake for three (to drive her to radiation), and before that, he slept for a full 14 hour night (7pm to 9am). After that radiation appointment, she slipped into one of her odd episodes where she gets extremely confused and non-verbal, and her body tenses up from the sheer amount of pain she’s in. It’s a really vulnerable state that she doesn’t like to face alone.

Well shit, she’s an emotional abuser for being upset that he went to nap for 6 hours and left her alone in that state. This resulted in a heated argument. The stress of it all was pushing my mom into another of the episodes described above, the first sign of which is a marked change in her voice - she sounds a little drunk before she goes non-verbal. So that’s happening. And then he’s trying to power play (”I’m going to get you a pill. You don’t want one? I’ll get one anyway. Give me your magic bag.”) but she didn’t want his help. I am listening to this from my bedroom and I can’t take it anymore. Upon entering the living room, my mom is shriveled up in her chair, arms crossed over chest and leaning away from him. he’s standing less than a foot away and leaning over her. I walk up and say, “I don’t like the way you’re talking to and intimidating my mother right now.”

He turned around and says, trying to intimidate me,” No one is intimidating anyone.”

I’ll spare the long-winded details but this lead to a physical altercation. I shoved him away from my mom, then he threw me into a table, threw me to the ground, told me I was “gonna be locked up in a special apartment where special people can take care of [me] for the rest of [my] life”, and punched me in the face before running out the door. My mom is crying at me that he’s gonna kick me out. I have no where to go. She asks me where I’ll go and I just shake my head.

My brother pipes up, “And you’re sitting there shaking your head and I just know you’re gonna making your living situation mom’s problem.” And walks away. Thanks, shitcouch.

I tell my online friends about what happened. I try to get in touch with old friends in the vicinity, to try to get out of the house for a few hours, maybe even a few days. Nobody wanted to help or hang out. They all just told me to call the police, 3 days later, but I didn’t want to. I knew that no charges could be laid and that he’d try to kick me out. But everyone just kept pushing. So I did. You know what happened? I reported it on the non-emergency line. They came here to assess for like 15 minutes. No charges can be laid because it was a mutual fight (eye roll). And he tried to kick me out.

My mom gave me a month’s notice yesterday morning.

So thank you, everyone who pressured me into calling the police. Now I will be effectively homeless in a month, because I can’t afford an apartment on my dismal disability budget. Plus I’m at way higher risk for suicide and self-harm when I live alone...

I’m still trying to find places to go and people to listen... and I’m appalled and broken by the rejection. If someone had come to me with this same problem... I would let them into my home without a doubt. :’( But I’m stuck locking the doorknob on my door to feel relatively safe. I’m thrown into near-panic when I hear him walking by my room. My entire body shivers with hatred when I hear his stupid voice or his awful, cavernous breathing, or the way he eats and drinks like a fucking pig. I can literally hear these things through a closed door. I’m going insane. Suicidal thoughts and plans that have been in place for years swirl in the background noise in my head, and forgive me for being melodramatic... but in light of recent events, I really feel like the end is near...

#sorry #vent #im really sorry #ugh #im just struggling so much

10 notes · View notes

exitstageleft-pursuedbyabear · 7 years ago

Text

#FUCK #I am big going to be able to survive tonight #I'm going out to drama #which idk why #but it's the time dysphoria effects me the most #but I didn't go last weak and I'm already on my way #so it's to late to back out #even though I'm feeling like I can't deal with it #the guy who calls me by my double deadname is coming over #*ovsr #*over #and my dad is getting one #of his taxi driving friend's to pick me up

0 notes

ezra-blue · 8 years ago

Text

You’ve Got Something - 24

24: Ringing In The New

Goku goes into the New Year by admitting some difficult truths to Sanzo, and as Sanzo copes, Goku is brought deeper into the Sanzo family’s reality.

Word Count: ~7000

This chapter was originally going to be two, but I decided that it would be best to merge them.

24: Ringing In The New

Christmas brunch could not have possibly gone worse.

Toudai was an asshole to Gojyo. Sanzo normally wouldn't object, he was usually an asshole to Gojyo, but Toudai had done it on a spectacularly unjustified level. From the tight expression Hakkai had worn when he'd abandoned the table to chase Gojyo down and comfort him, Toudai was lucky to be walking away with all of his teeth, with only Hakkai's restraint and need to ensure Gojyo wasn't breaking down shielding him. Goku had known the problem all along and had chosen not to say anything, caught between his loyalty to his boss and Sanzo.

Sanzo was pissed. He'd known Goku could be kind of an idiot, but this was a bridge too far. He also knew Goku was just as upset at himself as anything, so he knew scolding him wouldn't do anything. Goku was trying to put a brave face on, forcing a smile for Toudai and Koumyou as they waited for a taxi (their idea, not his, stubborn old goats), as Sanzo waited in the driver's seat, drumming his fingernails on the wheel and mulling it over in his head. When Goku sat down, though, he subdued and pulled his shoulders in. “Thanks for the ride home, Sanzo.”

“Hmph.” Sanzo put the car into gear and drove. He never said he was taking Goku home yet. It was far too rare for him and Goku to actually be alone, but now they were isolated. Koumyou had said that he found many people opened up behind closed doors, but that wasn't just limited to a therapist's office and sofa (the thought of which only reminded Sanzo of a conversation he was going to have to have with Koumyou later because what the hell, Dad, you're retired!), and people often felt safe in their cars. Sure, a two-ton piece of heavy machinery that killed more people every year than anything else, that felt safe. But at least he and Goku were alone, with no risk of interruption.

He started off driving towards Goku's shitty apartment, but veered off down a different road before he reached the tracks. Goku raised an eyebrow and raised a hand. “Uh, Sanzo, I don't live this way.”

“I know.” Sanzo knew where he was going. What he needed to know was where he and Goku were going.

He stopped in the parking lot of a dog park, threw the car into park, and took his seat belt off to twist around and face Goku. “This can't happen again.”

Goku shrank, his shoulders rising over his ears. “I know. I'm sorry--”

“Quit apologizing. I know what actually went down wasn't your fault, but hiding it from me – I don't have time for that bullshit.” Sanzo crossed his arms as Goku continued to shrink down. “Hakkai might tolerate Gojyo prevaricating and vacillating and hiding shit, but I don't.”

Goku sucked his lower lip in, chewed it, then slowly spat out: “You don't get it.” He put his fists down and set his shoulders back, but glared at the console of the car rather than Sanzo. “I've never dealt with this stuff before, okay? I've never had parents, and I've never had to worry about the parents of a boyfriend or girlfriend or anything.”

“You think I know what I'm doing? Shit.” Sanzo rolled his eyes, then took Goku's chin in his hand. “If you tell me, we can do it together.”

Goku blinked, bright eyes flashing with confusion. “You mean that?”

“I do.” Sanzo ran his hand up to Goku's hair. “Unfamiliar territory is best walked with someone else.” Goku relaxed a little when Sanzo ruffled his hair. “As for taking sides, I'm on nobody's side but my own. If you're walking my way, then so be it.”

“Yeah. Okay. I'll try not to hide stuff from you next time.” Goku pushed his head into Sanzo's palm like a dog starved for attention, grinning like he was supposed to for the first time all day.

Exactly what Sanzo wanted. Crisis averted. Goku understood things left unsaid much more than Sanzo gave him credit for sometimes. He thought the conversation was over, but as he tried to withdraw, Goku grabbed his hand.

“Hey, Sanzo?” Goku twisted around in the passenger seat. His gaze went steely, and he set his jaw. He'd obviously made his mind up about something. “There's something I gotta tell you.”

Sanzo frowned, but let Goku clasp his hand in both of his. “I'm listening.”

Goku nodded, then sucked in a breath, filling his lungs, then squeezed Sanzo's hand. “I... I'm a guy, okay? You know that. I'm a guy, I act like a guy, I dress like a guy, most of my friends are guys, okay? But...” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I wasn't always a guy.”

Sanzo felt that like a blow to the chest. “What.”

“I don't usually say it like that. Um, it's like this.” Goku released Sanzo's hand and laced his fingers together. “Uhm, you know how when you're born, the doctor looks between your legs and says, 'this is a boy,' 'this is a girl,' they probably looked between your legs and said you were a boy, right? They looked at me and said I was a girl.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “So for a while, I had to wear dresses and hair bows, they called me a girl's name, and they made me play with baby dolls and pink stuff because they thought I was a girl, but the thing was, in my head, I didn't feel like a girl.” Sanzo could see Goku's knees shaking. “I liked monster trucks and wrestling and I hated Barbie, and I hated wearing pigtails and dresses, and I told Mama, 'stop treating me like a girl,' and then Mama took me to a special doctor in Sacramento and they put together that even though I had a girl's body, I was a boy on the inside.”

“You're telling me you're not biologically male.” Sanzo couldn't be hearing this right. Nothing about Goku seemed feminine in the least. “You said you were how old when you...?”

“Four.” Goku bit his lip. “Mama said it was just a glitch when God was putting me together. My head and heart and soul are all boy, but my body isn't.” He fidgeted again. “But some of me is a boy! I've, um, been on shots since I was nine.”

Sanzo ran his eyes over Goku's body. “Shots.”

“Testosterone.” Goku seemed to feel Sanzo staring at him, and subconsciously pulled his arms over himself. “I started it basically around when I hit puberty, so I started girl puberty a little, but it stopped short and I went through guy puberty. That's why I got a low voice and my face is a guy's, and I don't have girly hips.” He extended a hand to touch Sanzo's wrist. “But if you feel here?” Sanzo let Goku take his wrist and guide it to his shoulder. He pressed Sanzo's palm in, and Sanzo felt something under Goku's shirt. “That's a binder. I kinda have...” Goku traced a little circle around his chest, and Sanzo filled in the blanks and nodded. Goku shuddered. “Yeah, I kinda hate 'em. They're not big, 'cause like I said, I started testosterone early, and I'm saving for top surgery to get 'em off. Mama says that 'cause they're small and I don't wear my binding stuff too much, the surgery should be a lot easier, they can just do a keyhole instead of double-incision or – uh, guess you wouldn't know about all that.”

Sanzo sucked air in through his nose and studied Goku again. Top surgery. That meant there was a bottom surgery. “You don't have a dick.”

“Nope.” Goku hung his head. “And, uh, that's a lot more complicated. At least with top surgery, they're just taking something off. Bottom surgery means you're putting somethin' in that wasn't there before.” He laughed, sharp and anxious, and ran his hand into his hair and gripped it against his scalp. “I mean, when a girl gets breast implants, that's under the skin, so it's easier to hide that! You can't just, y'know, make something where there's kinda nothing.” He released his hair, his shoulders hunching. “So, uh, there's really good odds I'm never gonna have a dick. There's stuff you can do down there to sorta make a fake, but there's no real good way of making one that's gonna match yours. Plus, it's crazy expensive.” He scrunched his nose, and looked up at Sanzo. “So, I kinda came to peace with that. I pack most days, especially if I'm gonna wear tighter pants, and feeling something there is good enough for me. I might get a hysterectomy sooner rather than later, 'cause having a vagina's not a problem but I know getting knocked up would really set my dysphoria off. If I've ever got enough money, I can consider my options.”

Sanzo frowned, as Goku tried to set his shoulders back again and lift his face. Goku was baring his soul, and yet he still found himself searching over Goku's body. He wasn't sure he'd ever met someone who'd transitioned before, and suddenly found himself intimately close. He gathered his thoughts, still trying to put the new information together with the Goku he knew. “Alright,” he murmured after a moment, but shook his head again. Goku sat back, sucking on his lower lip and puzzling.

“Um... did you have any questions?”

Sanzo let a beat of silence pass, as a few children ran through the twirling snow flurries past the front bumper towards the park, a barking retriever of some sort in tow, but Goku only looked once, barely distracted. “What's your name?”

“Goku Son.”

Sanzo snorted. “What was it?”

Goku cringed. “Uh. That's, uh, not an okay question. They call it a 'deadname' for a reason. I kinda buried it when I cut my hair off – like, Mama dug a hole, and we tossed my hair and dresses and girl stuff in there and buried it. Mama changed my name and birth certificate. She kept a tiny bit of my old name, but I honestly prefer not thinking about who I was before then.” He hung his head. “It wasn't me.”

“Oh.” Sanzo frowned, and withdrew from the line he'd crossed. “Sorry.”

Goku's eyes widened with surprise. “Oh, wow, uh, it's okay, really! You didn't know, you don't gotta apologize. I don't think I've ever heard you – anyway.” He withdrew again, his hands clasping in his lap. “Anything else?”

Sanzo mulled it over. “You're... considering top surgery.”

“Definitely want that. Mama's got a special savings fund for it. I send whatever money I got left after the bills get paid, and she matches it.” Goku wrung his fingers. “I almost have two-thousand dollars in there now, so maybe once I'm working full time, I'll get enough this year. At least the hysterectomy might actually be covered by my insurance, y'know?” He grinned sheepishly. “Mama told me I have a higher risk of ovarian cancer 'cause of the T, so getting all that scooped out could be considered preventative care.”

Sanzo shuddered at the thought of Goku talking about his body like it was just something to be cut and changed, but gathered his thoughts for another question. “And you still use testosterone.”

“Uh-huh. Every three weeks, Mama drives me down to Sacramento. I get a great big needle and my butt's sore for a few days, but it's a maintenance dose. I'll likely be on some form of testosterone for the rest of my life, since some of the changes aren't permanent.” He frowned to himself. “Hopefully the clinic I go to stays open for a good long time. Mama said it's hard to find a good doctor who'll help me and not treat me like crap 'cause I wasn't born a guy.” Sanzo examined Goku's face, then put a hand on his shoulder.

“I can ask if Koumyou knows of anyone closer who does hormone and reassignment therapy. Sacramento's three hours away, that's one hell of a drive for a needle.”

“Oh, the drive's not a problem, Mama and me sing road songs the whole way, and plus we'll usually do a nice lunch together and go shopping while we're...” Goku trailed off, as if just realizing what Sanzo had said. “Look, I'm tryin' not to look a gift horse in the mouth here, but now the shock's worn off, you seem really weirdly okay with this.”

Sanzo's brow knit up, but he put his other hand over Goku's and squeezed. “Yeah. I didn't ask your dick out. I didn't give your flat chest and manly pectoral muscles my number. I wanted to see you. I'm just seeing you for who you are now.” He frowned. “It's more complicated than I expected, but it's still just you. Thank you for trusting me.”

Goku's nearly stoic explanation broke, and his voice cracked: “You mean you're not breaking up with me?!”

“No. Idiot, did I say I was?”

Goku groaned and sagged, turning so he could slump in the passenger seat. “Oh my gosh, I thought for sure – but you're not!”

“No,” Sanzo repeated, rolling his eyes.

“But you're gay! Hakkai said you were only into dudes!”

“You started this whole rant off with the very clear statement that you were a dude.” Sanzo folded his arms. “Look at me.” Goku barely lifted his chin, and Sanzo stared him down. “Why did you wait this long?”

Goku hummed and lowered his face again. “Well, at first it didn't matter, 'cause we just met, why the heck would you care? And then, well, you hadn't seen my body or even asked me to take my shirt off, and we weren't having sex or nothing, so it didn't matter. Then I just had to figure out when to break it to ya that maybe I wasn't everything you thought I was.”

“Idiot. It's exactly like you said. You are not just your parts.” Sanzo threaded his fingers into Goku's hair again. Goku leaned into his touch, and Sanzo felt something like sunlight melting ice down his face. “You're a companion, not a sex toy. This is fine. We'll figure it out together.”

“Thank you,” Goku whispered, and put his face in Sanzo's shoulder, leaning over the center console to sink against Sanzo. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Sanzo could feel that Goku had something thicker under his clothes now that he was feeling for it, but it didn't change that it felt very nice to hold Goku against him, like sunshine melting snow.

Sanzo let Goku hug him until the snow flurries had covered the windshield, at which point he turned the wipers on, which caught Goku's attention. “Oh, jeez, it's coming down now.”

“There are still people in the park, so it can't be that bad.” Sanzo turned the front defroster on. “But I'll get you home before the roads get icy.”

“Thank you.” Goku sat back and put his seat belt back on, though Sanzo caught him still quivering a little out of the corner of his eye. Sanzo knew that this had changed next to nothing between them, but he faintly realized that maybe it should.

“Do you want me to take you to Sacramento?” He put the car in gear just as Goku whipped around again, gaping. “For your shot.”

“S-Sanzo – I – uh, I have an hour of therapy when I go down there, too. You'd be bored.”

“I can amuse myself for an hour. If you'd rather keep this a special thing with you and 'Mama,' that's fine, but if you ever want to take me, you need only ask.” He paused. “Does 'Mama' have a name?”

“You could just call her Mother Bosatsu, I guess.” Goku sniffed, his lower lip wiggling through a big, wobbly smile. “And... yeah. Maybe we can do a Sacramento day trip together some time.” He smiled and snaked an arm over to Sanzo's shoulder, tugging him sideways in his seat. Sanzo grunted his annoyance, but let Goku have it. Goku had given him plenty today, he should at least make a token effort to meet him in the middle.

“Do you have big New Year's plans?” Koumyou could make loaded questions sound dreadfully innocent, and Sanzo peered out of his office to glare at him. He was filling out his accreditation forms at his desk using one of the pens decorated with a peacock feather and not quite looking at Sanzo, his smiling eyes down on his desk. Sanzo could already tell he was fishing. One of the things that made Koumyou a good therapist was that he could get the information he really wanted by asking questions around it in a careful waltz until he was taking the last step and had come in for the kill. Sanzo had gotten used to listening for it.

“Why do you want to know? You trying to make plans?”

“Ah, no, your father and I will do what we usually do.” Koumyou giggled. “Dinner, then stay in and watch a benefit concert on television. I think Marin Alsopp will be conducting the SFSO this year. I suppose I'd like to know if you'd like us to include you in our reservations, or if you were going to do something else this year.”

It sounded so reasonable. Koumyou was good at sounding reasonable. Sanzo's suspicion couldn't so easily be assuaged. “Hm. Maybe.”

“Let's see.” Koumyou paused and brushed the feather of the pen across his lower lip. “Hakkai told me he and Gojyo were going to a wine tasting. Did he invite you to join them?”

“Goku can't drink.” Sanzo bit his own tongue the second the words came out. Koumyou merely hummed, but Sanzo knew Koumyou needed more. “I haven't asked him about his plans yet.”

“Oh, really? Perhaps if you were going to make plans, it would be prudent to make them.” Koumyou returned to filling out his paperwork and hummed vacantly. Sanzo grimaced and scooted back into his office.

Making plans meant plans could be broken, but Goku had proven his worth every time Sanzo had taken the risk. He picked his phone up and dialed Goku's number without hesitating.

Goku picked up promptly. “Just a sec, greasy fingers!” Sanzo rolled his eyes, but he heard a frantic scuffle on the other side as Goku hurried to find some way to clean his hands (and likely his face). Then, Goku returned: “Sorry about that. What's up?”

Sanzo sniffed. “Do you have New Year's Eve plans?”

“Me an' some friends were gonna go to a movie.” Goku paused. “But, um, that's not totally set in stone, y'know? Did you want to make some plans?”

Sanzo felt a little relief at Goku understanding without him even trying to explain. “I'm not picky. Dinner?”

“Sure!”

“I'll make reservations.”

Goku, on the other end, gasped. “So, it'll be like a dinner date? Just you and me?” He heard Goku just off the receiver, “I've never been on an actual dinner date!” Then, he came back on. “N'then, maybe we could find somewhere nice to listen to music? I know you like that.”

Sanzo did. “I can do some looking and see if there are any places still accepting reservations with live entertainment.”

“Sure! Anything's fine, I can find something to eat on any menu. Usually I kinda wanna eat half of the menu.” Goku chuckled. “Just tell me where and what time, yeah? I'll be there, bells on!”

“I'll text you.” He hung up, but he could faintly hear Goku celebrating off speaker as he did. He had a funny feeling Goku hadn't been sure whether or not Sanzo would ask him out on a date again. He didn't tell Sanzo this, of course, because Sanzo would likely give him a good kick in the ass and tell him, 'I already told you once!' He couldn't lie and say that even after having him over for Christmas dinner that he'd completely come to terms with the knowledge that Goku was trans. He still, embarrassingly, found himself looking for any tells that Goku wasn't male. He'd found none thus far.

At the same time, Sanzo got the feeling Goku was waiting for Sanzo to decide he wasn't worth the trouble. Maybe he should take this opportunity to prove it.

He did so, with one last addendum by text message: “Bring an overnight bag with a change of clothes.”

Sanzo had no idea where Goku put all the free bread they'd put on the table at the restaurant. All he knew was that the waiters had replaced the basket at least three times and he'd only taken one roll for himself. How did someone so small pack away that much bread, a full plate of pesto, ask about the gnocchi Sanzo hadn't eaten (to the point of having his hand slapped away when Goku jokingly reached for it), and still want dessert?

On the bright side, whereas Goku was loud and enthusiastic, encouraging conversation, asking Sanzo to tell him how good his meal was and expressing how awesome the food was, when the band came out, a jazz quartet, Goku quieted down, speaking only in stage whispers to the waiter to ask for refills and the dessert menu, so Sanzo could enjoy the music. Goku did talk between songs:

“What was that one called? Do you know this song? Who wrote it?”

Sanzo found he usually knew at least one answer, and had no good reason not to tell Goku as much as he could. Goku admitted, “I listen to music, but only, like on the radio. Nataku puts orchestra stuff on while he's studying, but he doesn't actually know anything about it and he puts his headphones on sometimes, so I don't know much about it. The stuff you listen to is pretty neat, though! How'd you get so into jazz and stuff?”

“College,” Sanzo answered steadily, as Goku fidgeted with his soda glass, having long since scraped every last trace of chocolate mousse from his dessert plate. “I listened to the college radio and started to hear some songs I liked, so I researched the musicians independently. Soon, I just learned to listen for the songs that resonated with me. I listen to everything.”

“Cool! Do you do, like, deep cuts and stuff?”

“I'll listen to a full album, if that's what you mean. If I really like something that's not popular, then yes, I make an effort to listen to it when I feel like it.”

Goku glowed appreciatively. “You're all deep and considerate and stuff. It's so cool and cute.”

Sanzo felt his cheeks glow in return. “I just am.”

“Yeah, it's great.” Goku beamed, and the room only got warmer.

Sanzo suggested they leave by eleven, hoping to avoid any drivers who'd celebrated a little too hard, and Goku made no argument. He was perfectly happy to exhort all the fun they'd had up until that point as if Sanzo hadn't been there, enjoying it too. Sanzo couldn't admonish him as he chattered the entire car ride back to his parents' home. When they arrived, the shop was dark and locked, but there was a light on in an upstairs room. Goku hiked his backpack up his shoulders as Sanzo unlocked the door, and Sanzo guided Goku through the dark shop and to the stairwell. The front room on the second floor opened into a lounge where Toudai and Koumyou were sharing a worn-looking leather sofa and watching television. Koumyou hailed them with a wave as they walked past the door.

“Boys, welcome back. Would you care to join us? Madame Alsopp is about to take the podium.”

Sanzo grunted. “Not enough room on the sofa for four. We'll watch in my room.”

Toudai tipped his focus from the television for a moment to raise an eyebrow. Goku, however, gaped at Sanzo. “Wow, you got your own TV?”

“I insisted after sixteen years of passive-aggressive squabbles over whether we would watch primetime dramas or the cooking channel.” Sanzo continued to lead Goku up the stairs. “Besides, I preferred Jeopardy.”

“Lucky! We always had to draw straws at the foster house! Luckily, most everyone wanted to watch cartoons...” Goku tromped up after him to the third floor. Both of them missed the quick, nonverbal exchange between Toudai and Koumyou, Toudai gesturing furiously in their wake and Koumyou stifling a giggle.

Sanzo's bedroom was pretty sparsely appointed. He had a double bed, a chest of drawers that looked like unfinished wood, a bookshelf, and a television stand with, of course, a TV. Sanzo pushed the pillows against the wall like a makeshift daybed and gestured. “Get comfy.”

“Thanks!” Goku took his shoes off and put them by the door, dropped his backpack next to Sanzo's chest, and hopped onto the bed, shoulders against the wall, spread out so he could face the TV. Sanzo sat closer to the edge of the bed, but he yawned before he'd even settled in. Goku nudged Sanzo's hip with his toe. “Are you sleepy?”

Sanzo cast a glare in Goku's direction. “No.” As if to betray him, he yawned again, but cleared the roughness from his voice to add, “I'm used to early mornings, not late nights.”

“What time are you usually asleep?” Goku kicked his feet around. Sanzo muttered something, and Goku nudged his hip again. “Louder?”

“Nine.” Sanzo rolled his eyes. “And up by five. Forgive me for not being a spry college student pulling all-nighters.”

Goku snickered. “Man, if words could actually hurt a guy! Watch the sarcasm there, jeez. And it's okay! If you wanna get into your PJs and get actually comfy, it's okay. I'll put mine on, too!” Goku jumped back off the bed and went for his backpack, but paused just as he went for the zipper. “That's cool, right?”

Goku was holding his gaze, and it took Sanzo a moment for his brain to catch up with Goku's unspoken question. Then he remembered Goku was kind of an idiot. “Yeah. It's a sleepover. If you wanna change in the bathroom, it's across the hall. If you want a glass of water or a snack, you know where the kitchen is. Just don't go up the stairs, that's Toudai and Koumyou's suite.” He waved Goku off, but Goku looked grateful. For all of Goku's stupidities, it was nice that he wasn't presuming anything.

Sanzo shucked his overshirt and pants and flopped down on his bed again. Might as well get used to being comfortable around someone else now.

When Goku returned, it was in a tight-looking white tank top and boxer shorts with a monkey printed on it. Sanzo knew he was staring, but he hoped he was more subtle than Goku. Goku stopped cold for a moment, gaping, then shook it off and hopped back on the bed, leaving a little distance between the pair of them. Sanzo sat up and scooted so they could sit close, and Goku raised his eyebrows, but took the opportunity to wrap an arm around Sanzo's waist.

On TV, the conductor stepped to the podium and raised her baton, the orchestra members lifted their instruments and played a single note in unison, and Sanzo relaxed into Goku's shoulder. He was surprisingly solid for someone so small, and who clearly still had his share of cracks under the surface, and as Sanzo closed his eyes, Goku started to smooth his palm in little circles on his back. “Hey, if you're sleepy, it's okay. I'll tuck you in if you doze off.”

Sanzo was already lolling against him. Goku rested the side of his head against Sanzo's and pulled him closer by the waist. He wasn't sure how many liberties he could take with Sanzo, if he was allowed to stroke his hair or take his shirt the rest of the way off, but he let Sanzo doze against him as the music started to play.

When midnight came, Goku was still contentedly watching the concert, and Sanzo was fast asleep against him. “Hey, Sanzo?” Goku nudged him as the little countdown in the corner of the screen neared zero. “It's midnight. Did you want me to be your first kiss of the New Year?” Sanzo lifted his head a little, opening an eye halfway, then sat up and slid his arm up Goku's back.

“Don't ask me stupid questions.” He captured Goku around the shoulder and tugged him close, nose to nose, then hesitated. Goku, too, could see the countdown on the screen, and whispered it:

“Nine, eight, seven, six...” Sanzo's hand trembled on his shoulder, and Goku put his lip against Sanzo's chin and finished: “Five-four-three-two--!”

Sanzo closed the distance and kissed him, and Goku closed his arms around him. Sanzo's kiss was lazy and deep, and Goku forgot about time.

Sanzo fell asleep with Goku still tasting his mouth, and Goku eased him down onto the bed the rest of the way, then cuddled up to his side. He managed to turn the lamp off without moving, but left the television on, and music washed over them as they fell into solace without a sound.

Goku woke at four in the morning with his stomach growling. He could practically feel his stomach shaking the bed as it growled and complained at him, and he grimaced and sat up. “I knew I should have grabbed some more breadsticks for a midnight snack.” He untangled his legs from Sanzo's and stretched as he rose. Something felt off; his chest was a little sore, but he couldn't be sure why. “Probably just 'cause it's a different bed.” He glanced back at Sanzo where he still slept, breathing softly into his pillow. Sanzo's bed was really comfy; the top was as squishy as a marshmallow, the blankets thick and soft, and the whole thing smelled a little like Sanzo's soap and cigarettes. He kind of never wanted to get out.

Goku found the pantry easily and found a box of crackers. Hopefully, Toudai and Koumyou wouldn't notice a few missing. Or a sleeve. He found himself stretching his arms over his head again as he ate a few, but it was only as he itched at his chest that he realized the problem.

“Crap, fell asleep in my binder like an idiot!” He put the crackers down on the counter and quickly started yanking the Velcro loose on the sides. He breathed just a little easier with the compression off, but just as he went to take the tank off, he heard a gasp from the door and looked up to see a shadow blocking the dim light from the hall.

Toudai in a dressing robe. Gawking at him.

Goku covered his chest with his arm, trying not to panic. “M-Mister Toudai!” He grabbed the crackers off the counter. “Sorry, I was just gettin' a snack – I'll clean up the mess, I'm sorry!” Toudai's mouth was still agape, his shoulders slumped, and Goku waved his free hand. “I, uh, I can explain–”

“Wait.” Toudai compressed his forehead in his hand, his thumb and pinky pressed to his temples at his hairline. “Calm down. You don't owe me an explanation. Here.” He slid his robe off and held it out. “Take that thing off, you can wear this. I may not know much, but I know you shouldn't sleep in it.”

Goku felt his face flush, but as he took the robe, Toudai turned on his heel. “Meet me in the den upstairs. I wish to have a very serious conversation with you.” He strode away, brooking no argument, and Goku cringed and carefully peeled his binder the rest of the way off.

Crap, crap, crap.

Toudai's robe was three sizes too big for Goku, still a little warm off of his chest and carrying the faint scent of chamomile. Toudai had worn pajamas underneath, at least, and Goku was a little relieved he wouldn't have to have this 'very serious conversation' with Toudai shirtless. Toudai had settled on one end of the sofa, and had pulled a leather tuffet close. He patted the smaller cushion as Goku entered the room. “Sit, my boy.” Goku obediently sat near him, pulling the robe around so he wouldn't crush the velvet, and Toudai slapped a hand on his back. “This... whatever this is, changes nothing. If Kouryuu likes you as you are, that is all that's important to us.”

“Mr. Toudai, I'm sorry – I would'a told you, but--”

“It's not important to me. Your gender changes nothing, and as far as I care, it hasn't changed.” He actually smirked. “At least three of the young fellows I coached needed me to help them pack their shorts so they looked right for competitions. That's not what I wanted to talk to you about.” Toudai squeezed his shoulder. “Where are you getting your hormones?”

That wasn't what Goku was expecting. He quickly searched Toudai's face for the deeper meaning, but found only stone cold demand. “Uh, I go to a doctor in Sacramento every three weeks for my T shot.”

“Okay.” Toudai sagged, clearly relieved. “Thank you. That's reassuring. I...” Toudai heaved a sigh, collapsing like a hollow mountain. “I need you to promise me something.” Toudai slid his hand down Goku's arm and took his hand. Goku sat up, listening intently, as Toudai squeezed his fingers. “I need you to promise me that no matter how hard things get, how impatient you are to transition, anything, you do not chase under-the-table testosterone, you do not take more than your doctor orders you, and for Heaven's sake, no matter what you do, never, never--” He clamped Goku's hand tight. “NEVER share a needle.”

Toudai's grip hurt, but his hand was shaking. Goku squeezed his hand back. “I promise.”

Toudai leaned in towards Goku, still clenching his hand. “You don't understand, boy. I may not be here next year to remind you of this. Hell, your relationship with Kouryuu is still hardly in its infancy, you may not be around, either. But know that Koumyou will help you, if it comes to that, just, please, never get so desperate that you make a foolish mistake like I did!”

Goku sucked in a breath. “Mister Toudai?”

Toudai's hand was still shaking. “I have made countless mistakes, my boy. I suffered through twenty years of a loveless marriage to a woman who spent our every damned photo op comparing me to her senorita lover under her breath, and only able to see Koumyou in the night, sneaking around. I turned down so many opportunities for the sake of protecting my identity. Worst, I tried to keep up with my failing body through my latter years of athletics with – with...” Toudai inhaled and exhaled, clearly straining to scrape his soul clean. “You can't imagine what it's like. To sacrifice one's happiness for years for the sake of success, only to see it drained by age... I thought I had no choice but to use HGH to keep up.”

Goku didn't dare say a word. Not with Toudai still shaking in front of him. Toudai shook his head. “It's horrible, isn't it? My pride and stubbornness drove me to... to...” He grimaced. “My own gravestone.” He forced himself ramrod straight. “It was the early nineties. I knew of blood-borne diseases, but there were no massive public information campaigns, and it wasn't taught when I was in school. I was flying blind, and though I knew long-term steroid use would have negative consequences, I thought that just a little, just until I could retire, it wouldn't... But it was illicitly acquired, and shared with...” Toudai swallowed hard. “Others. Other gay men. We knew of HIV, but it was not widely known all the ways it could be spread, and...”

Goku trembled. “Mr. Toudai? You mean you...”

Toudai's hands tensed, and he withdrew from Goku. “I've been HIV positive since the year we adopted Kouryuu.” He hung his head, lacing his fingers until his knuckles went white. “I've been fortunate. We're both professionals, well-to-do, and able to afford antiretroviral therapy and enzyme suppressants. It's become harder since my diagnosis became publicly known and I was forced to retire, even more when my medicine caused me to develop diabetes, but we've managed. However, just a few weeks ago...” He shook his head. “My viral load has steadily increased over the last few years. As of three weeks ago, I've been diagnosed with AIDS.”

“Oh, oh man.” Goku shook his head. “I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, I had no--”

“Why are you apologizing, boy?” Toudai shook his head again, his forehead falling forward. “You didn't force me to take that dirty needle. You had nothing to do with anything I've done. I... I know I seem a crotchety old grouch, but it frustrates me to watch you young people make the same mistakes I did. I want to share what I know, what I've learned, but I can't force you to do what is correct. I can only ask that you hear me out.”

Goku launched himself off of his little stool and hugged Toudai around the shoulders. “Of course. And you're right. I promise I'll never share needles, I promise I'll listen to my doctor.” He hugged Toudai tight, embracing him despite Toudai's shock. “An', please don't be afraid to touch me. I'm smart, I know you're not contagious to me.” He sat right beside Toudai, as Toudai collected himself. “It's okay. I know me an' Sanzo haven't been together long, but he means a lot to me, and I hope I get to stay a for a long time.” He took Toudai's hand again. “Even if you won't be around forever, it's okay. Thank you for trying to take care of me.”

Toudai studied Goku for a moment, then cracked a wry, self-deprecating smile. “You're so easygoing, so much like Koumyou. I would kiss you if I didn't know better.” He wrapped an arm around Goku and hugged him again.

When he opened his eyes from Toudai's embrace, he noticed Koumyou standing just outside of the door, with Sanzo swaying on his feet a step behind him. He closed his eyes and hugged Toudai a little tighter, until Toudai lifted his head and spotted them too.

“We've been having a heart to heart.” Toudai patted Goku's back. “I've gained a new appreciation and understanding for the young man.”

“Ah. Well.” Koumyou came into the room and wrapped an arm around Toudai. “A new year, a new outlook, isn't that right?” He then patted Goku's knee, squeezing it through the velvet of Toudai's robe. “And if my understanding is correct, hopefully an improved you.”

Goku shot Sanzo a raised eyebrow, and he hung his head. Goku quickly understood that Sanzo had likely felt the need to explain, and shot him a winning beam. He knew he’d have to tell Koumyou next anyway. “Yeah, I hope so. The more my outsides match my insides, the better.” He opened an arm. “Hey, you wanna join in the big group hug?”

“No.” Sanzo folded his arms and propped his shoulders on the wall, but Koumyou got up just long enough to grab him by the collar of his shirt and yank him over to the hug pile. Sanzo flailed for a second, but finally begrudgingly let Koumyou and Goku hug him and Toudai.

“Since we're all awake,” Koumyou said after a moment, “Why don't I start some breakfast?”

“Nah.” Goku cuddled back into Sanzo's chest, breaking the two of them away from Toudai and Koumyou. “I just wanted a midnight snack. I'm still kinda tired.”

“That's fine, dear. Kouryuu, why don't you take him back to sleep?” Koumyou captured Toudai's hand in his. “Since we have a moment, Toudai and I are going to have a conversation now.”

Sanzo escorted Goku back up to his room and handed Goku a shirt from his drawer so Goku could keep his modesty. “That tight thing, don't wear it so much. Can't be good for you.”

“Thanks.” Goku turned and redressed, and when he turned around, Sanzo was already back in bed.

“Of course, the old men'll be the death of you.” He stretched out on the side closest to the wall. “They're probably plotting how to best help you right now.”

“Y'think?”

“I know.” Sanzo rolled over, leaving a very clear space beside him. “Get back in bed. We've got a few more hours before we have to start this new year.”

Goku thought it might be scary to come out to Sanzo's parents, or to Sanzo himself. He should have known that it wouldn't have been as bad as he'd thought, and that it would only make things better.

He jumped into bed next to Sanzo and cuddled up to his back, scenting his cigarettes and soap. He hoped that didn't change. It seemed like maybe lots of things would, and all for the better.

“Happy New Year, Sanzo.”

Sanzo was already snoring, and he unconsciously wound an arm around Goku. He closed his eyes into the wee hours, already knowing it would be a good year.

#You've Got Something #my writing #fanfiction

19 notes · View notes