#so i felt a repulse to wear masculine clothes for a good while

[haysgrove]

vent in tags dont mind me ✌️

[yikesharringrove]

Changing the theme a bit, since I saw you dont hate Jonathan thank goddd, maybe Jonathan having to ask Steve and Billy for tips because he's aro or ace? Or something he knows Lonnie wouldve actually killed him for, which Billy gets and Steve is fully willing to help soft Jonathon be a THING and they are just his gay mentors and mayhaps. Nancy just doesnt get it and it gets messy and Will just stands up for his brother in full anger and slams the door in her face and hugs jon so tight he falls

Steve is sex-positive ace, Billy is sex-repulsed, and Jon is greyace bc I’ve gotten so many messages about how many people were affected positively by showing ace diversity in that one drabble I wrote, so we’re keeping this goin’ because you’re ALL VALID. 😤

-

Jonathan had been crashing on their couch for a week and a half and has yet to say anything about the situation more than Nancy and I had a fight.

Billy and Steve didn’t know what the fuck to do about it. Jonathan was obviously fucking heartbroken over whatever the fight had been about, but they didn’t wanna pry.

“Thank you guys for taking me in. I’m sorry, I’ve probably been cramping your style.” Steve just shook his head, serving three plates of eggs and toast.

“There’s not a lot of style going on in this apartment for you to cramp.” Steve smiled at him as he placed the plates on the table. Jonathan gave him an odd look.

“What do you, what do you mean?”

“We don’t really fuck.” Billy was always the blunt one. Jonathan’s fork clattered to the table.

“You don’t, why not?”

“Neither of us are really into it.” Jonathan looked like he could fucking cry.

“Me neither. That’s what the fight was. Nancy kept asking why we don’t have sex, and if I stopped loving her, and I do! I love her so much, but I just, sometimes I feel that way about her, but I usually don’t, and I’m so fucking confused.” Steve reached out, placing a firm hand on Jonathan’s arm.

“Jon, it’s okay. I mean, I don’t think we’ve had sex in like, a year?” Billy nodded.

“It was before we actually talked about how we both felt about it.”

“And is that-” Jonathan trailed off, but they got it. Is that like me.

“I don’t mind sex. If I’m with someone who wants to have it, I can be cool with that, but I don’t always get off, and it’s more about making the other person feel good, or using it as another way to be like, intimate. But I don’t really think about it, and I can definitely go without.”

“I actively don’t like fucking. I kinda think sex is, is fucking gross. I mean, you do you and all that, but like, every time I had sex it just, it made me feel gross.” He pulled a face.

“I just, I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel for her, honestly.” Jonathan ran a hand down his face. “Sometimes, sometimes it just feels like a fucking chore. And she just, she kinda confronted me about it, and I probably could’ve worded it better, but she got so angry, and hurt, and we just, we decided to take some time apart.” He pushed the eggs around his plate. “And there are some situations that I just, I want it with her so badly, but most, most of the time I just, I just want to be with her, like just spend time with her. And she, she’s never been very good at being sensitive about things, or, or, sympathetic, and she just, she made me feel fucking broken. Like there was something wrong with me.”

“First of all, fuck her for making you feel like that.” Billy had one eyebrow raised.

“Bill-”

“No. Jonathan, you are not broken, and it sucks she made you feel that way. If she can’t be in a relationship that respects your boundaries, then she is not the one.”

Steve sighed.

“Jon, Bill’s right. A relationship should be safe. She should be more mindful of your boundaries and feelings, and should not be making you feel bad for those things. I’m not saying you should like, dump her-”

“I am.” Steve batted a hand at Billy.

“-but, if you have an open conversation with her, and nothing changes, then you are always welcome here.” Steve squeezed his arm again.

-

The talk with Nancy had been bad.

She had taken everything really personally, said that Jonathan needed to sort out his priorities and to let her know when he’s attracted to her again.

And he tried, he tried so hard to explain the way he felt, that it all comes and goes like the fucking tide, but she had put her foot down.

So he showed up back to Billy and Steve’s apartment with two more suitcases and tears in his eyes.

“I just, I know I can fake it when I need to, I don’t know why I didn’t.”

“Because forcing yourself to do shit like that sucks. Fuck Nancy for being a bitch. Figure yourself out, and then find someone who respects your boundaries.”

Billy was pacing in front of the sofa, talking sharply, pointing at Jonathan a lot. Steve had one arm over his shoulders.

“You deserve respect, Jon. And you deserve to feel safe and happy in a relationship.”.

-

He couldn’t sleep that first night.

The fight was circling in his head, over and over and over and over-

He heard the bedroom door open, and someone creep out through the living room and into the kitchen.

He looked over the back of the couch, saw a bleary eyed Steve filling a glass of water for himself, wearing one of Billy’s faded band shirts, and a pair of panties.

Jonathan laid back down before Steve could see him looking.

-

The next morning, he found himself staring at Steve.

He had put shorts on, and even a chunky cardigan while he made breakfast, but Jonathan knew.

“Can I, can I talk to you about something?” Steve smiled brightly at him. “I, um, I noticed you coming out here last night.” Steve just nodded, a look of recognition in his eyes.

“You wondering about panties?”

“Um, yeah.” Steve shrugged. “I just like ‘em. And it’s not like, a sexual thing. Sometimes they make me feel sexy, but that’s not what it’s about. I just like them. Have a lot of women’s thing.”

“What about them do you like?” Steve shrugged again.

“It’s hard to describe. I’ve never felt like, super masculine. Like, big macho tough guy, I wanna hunt and never talk about my feelings.” Steve put on a stupid-sounding deep voice for his macho man. “And I mean, not all men are like that, but that’s kind of how you’re expected to be. And women are expected to be pretty and delicate, and I’ve always related to that more. Women’s clothes help me feel that way.”

“I’ve, um, I’ve always felt that too. Not necessarily the kinda, pretty and delicate part, but the, not feeling connected to masculinity and like, what’s expected from you.” Steve set down a plate of eggs and bacon in front of Jonathan, putting one down for himself as well, and one in Billy’s empty space.

“Hold that thought, I’m gonna grab Billy. He doesn’t like it when I yell for him.” Steve patted him on the arm, and was gone for a few minutes before he returned with Billy in tow.  “Okay, Jonathan. Please continue.”

“Well, not much to say. I feel like my dad kinda always shoved that like, macho man shit on me. Would take me hunting and stuff and I just never liked it.”

“Jesus, mine did that shit too. Not with hunting, but he was all about men having their place, and women having their place.” Billy took an aggressive bite of his bacon.

“Mine was too! I got sad once when I shot a rabbit, and he called me a pussy for like, a week.”

“When my dad was layin’ into me, if he ever saw my cry, it would just get that much worse.” They were nodding at one another, trading shitty dad stories back and forth. “He would like, get mad if I helped my mom cook and shit, too.”

“God, it’s like we had the fuckin’ same dad.” Billy raised his mug at Jonathan. “It’s hard to break outta that shit, even though he’s not in your life, anymore.”

“I think so, too. I haven;t seen him in years, but every time I do something he would’ve thought was too soft, I can still hear him in my head. And you know, that’s one of the things I like about Nancy. She’s really hard, and tough, and never expected me to be that way.” And he knows that in the end, Nancy was bad news for him, not being able to love and accept him, but that aspect of their relationship was so nice, so easy.

“There doesn’t always have to be both. I mean, Steve’s more outwardly soft, but we’re both real mushy at our cores. There doesn’t have to be a big tough one and a sweet soft one. Sometimes you have elements of both and you make it work.”

“You just have to find the balance within yourself, I think. And learn to embrace the parts of you that are soft and the parts that are hard.” Jonathan was nodding vigorously at Steve. “And it’s always different. I love getting to feel soft and pretty in a dress or something, whereas Billy finds ways to be soft by taking care of things, like me and all the plants.”

“Do you think, do you think you could help me? Find that, I mean.”

“Of course! Just think of the things you already feel, things that feel right when you do them, and that’s a good starting point. And maybe that’s your photography, and maybe it’s something else.”

So they let Jonathan experiment with things to find his softness.

He would help Billy tend to the fucking garden they had on the balcony, or bake with Steve. He took a million pictures, and Steve was thriving under the camera, would put on make up and something pretty and pose around the apartment.

It was just nice.

Getting to live with these two, and train himself not to be ashamed, it was nice.

Will would come and visit quite often, and he and Jonathan spent a wonderful Saturday evening coming out to each other, and validating the ever loving shit out of one another.

Billy and Steve came home to the two brothers hugging one another on the couch and trying to hold back tears.

Steve had inserted himself into the hug while Billy patted each one of them on the head and started making dinner.

But he figured of course this would happen.

His perfect little cocoon would crumble apart at some point.

Will had come over, and Steve and Billy had gone out to dinner together, leaving the two of them to order pizza and have a movie night.

It was great, hanging out with his brother like when they were little, not a fucking care in the world.

There was a knock at the door.

“Jon, it’s me. It’s Nancy. Can we talk” Jonathan’s heart stuttered to a halt in his chest.

Will was staring at the door like maybe he could set it on fire if he glared hard enough.

Jonathan sighed, opening the door to face his fate.

“Are you seriously still mad at me?”

“Yes.” She huffed.

“C’mon. Come back home.”

“Nancy, I can’t. Not if you’re not going to respect me.”

“We were fine. I don’t know why we can’t just go back to the way we were-”

“Because I was forcing myself to do things I was uncomfortable with just to make you happy.”

“Relationships are compromise, Jonathan.”

“I know that, but when I brought up to you what wasn’t working, you refused to listen. I was the only one forfeiting my boundaries and comfort in that relationship, and I deserve more.” She rolled her eyes.

“Jesus Christ, Jonathan, this is-” Will was shoving Jonathan back, stepping between the two.

“Nancy, he’s done talking to you about this. Unless you can respect that he doesn’t always feel that way, then move the fuck on.” He slammed the door right in her face. “You don’t need her.”

Jonathan was gobsmacked. Will had never spoken to anyone like that, at least not that Jonathan’s every seen.

“Why did you...?” He trailed off, still staring at the door.

“She was pissing me off. You’re right. You compromised everything in that relationship and she couldn’t even give you the bare minimum.”

Jonathan swept Will up, hugging him as tight as he possibly could.

“Thank you.”

“You deserve better than her.”

“Yeah, I do.”

[enpointe10]

Gold Rush

AN: So, this is my first ever fanfic. I got sucked into the emotional rabbit hole that is evermore, and this happened. Sorry in advance for the angst!! Really though, this is the first fanfiction I have ever, so please be nice. Enjoy!

THE CABIN

The cabin felt like home. Hidden within Oakwald Forest, nestled underneath layers of snow, with its creaking wooden floors and massive fireplace, it was home. So was the owner of the arm Aelin wiggled under, feeling its heavy weight come to rest on her.

“Hey,” a gruff voice said quietly. Rowan. Aelin closed her eyes as she held him, breathing in his pine and snow scent. He pressed a kiss to her hair. 

“Good morning,” she whispered back at him, her own voice groggy with sleep. She felt more than saw him smile into her hair before he began to pull away from her. With a groan, she tightened her arms around his waist, keeping him in place.

A soft laugh. “I’m just getting some coffee, love.” He gently unwrapped her arms as he eased out of the bed. “I’ll be right back.”

“But you’re so warm,” Aelin murmured into his pillow.

“What was that, Fireheart?” 

Even with her eyes closed, she knew the smirk that would be on his beautiful face. With that damned smirk in mind, she murmured something decidedly unladylike into the pillow as he huffed out another laugh and left the room, the wooden floors echoing his steps until he suddenly froze.

“How did that get there?”

At that, Aelin lifted her head from the pillow, blinking at the light flowing in from frost-covered windows. She saw Rowan standing in front of the door. “What?” she asked.

He slowly turned around, eyes full of mischief as he nodded towards the Eagles t-shirt draped across the top of the door. Her Eagles t-shirt, which she had been wearing the night before. Aelin refused to let her embarrassment show, hating the red flush of her cheeks. Well, unless it was because of a different reason. Like last night.

She raised a brow, giving Rowan a smirk of her own. “Someone got a little excited last night, and ripped my clothes off of me. I guess that one ended up there.”��

“Ah,” he said, a purely masculine smile gracing his face and lighting up his green eyes. 

Aelin paused. “If you actually ripped it, I’ll kill you. That’s my favorite shirt.”

He lifted it off the door, inspecting it for a moment before tossing it on the bed. “Lucky for me, it seems fine.” He stared at the door for a second more, giving it a shake of his head before striding through it. 

A handful of minutes later, Aelin waltzed through the same door. When Rowan caught sight of her, he froze, a cup of coffee in each hand and his jaw on the floor.

Knowing the reason for his shock, Aelin leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You got very, very lucky that this shirt is fine.” And it was. Coincidentally, it was also the only thing she was currently wearing. She was absolutely freezing, but the look on Rowan’s face was worth the chill. His green eyes soaked in the sight of her before they snapped up to meet hers. Pupils blown wide, there was a feral gleam there that caused her stomach to tighten.

Straightening up, Rowan placed both cups of coffee on the table beside him before turning back around to face her. “Well, you’re right about one thing,” he said as he prowled towards her. 

Aelin tilted her head up to meet his gaze, fighting the smile that tugged on her lips. She was grateful that she had her arms crossed over her chest, lest she fall victim to the growing temptation to reach out and kiss him stupid. Which turned out to be unnecessary as he gripped her hips and pulled her towards him, pressing his lips to hers, his kiss nearly as feral as his eyes.

When they finally pulled apart to breath, she asked, “What was it that I was right about this time, buzzard?”

His green eyes gaze caught hers, swollen lips curling up into a smile that made her heart sing to know that she was the reason for it. “I am very, very lucky.”

THE DINNER PARTY

The house was full of laughter. Aelin was holding court at the head of the table, as usual, Rowan beside her. She kept catching him stealing glances at her, especially her dress. Her dinner parties were no joke, and neither was the dress code that accompanied them. Lucky for her—and for Rowan—that meant a black velvet gown that hugged every one of her curves. And he couldn’t take his eyes off of it. Noticing how his gaze caught on her once more, she kicked him under the table. He sucked in a breath, surprise coating his features, but she only winked at him.

“Something the matter over there, buzzard?” Fenrys asked, eyes dancing at his use of Aelin’s favorite nickname for him. 

“He’s just being contrarian. It gives his life purpose in his old age.” Aelin answered for him before taking a sip of her wine. She raised a brow over at the buzzard in question. “Right?”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “I’m only two years older than you.”

“Arguing with me?” She clicked her tongue and shook her head, eyes dancing. “That sounds rather contrarian to me.”

Lorcan groaned at the pair of them from across the table. “I don’t even want to know. You two are repulsive.”

“You’re one to talk, Salvaterre,” Aelin said as she leaned back in her chair. She raised both brows at him. “Elide’s hand hasn’t been above the table for over twenty minutes. Whatever could it be doing?”

Both Elide and Lorcan flushed bright shades of scarlet as the whole room burst out into laughter. Rowan caught her eyes, mirth dancing there, most likely due to the placement of his own hand on her upper thigh where it had been sitting for far longer than twenty minutes. She just winked at him and took another sip of wine.

THE COASTAL TOWN

They had gone away for the weekend. Rowan had picked out a little town on the coast, and had booked a room at a local bed & breakfast for the two of them over the long weekend. With the sea air and the sunshine, Aelin thought it was perfection.

Rowan, it seemed, agreed. He had smiled for the entire weekend, and she caught him staring at her more than a few times. A couple of those stares had been the kind to heat her blood and make her toes curl, but other times, he was just— staring. It took her the entire first day to figure out what it had been in his eyes when he stared at her.

Love. It was love.

And gods, did she love him. 

“Ready, Fireheart?” He stood leaning against the doorframe. He had promised to take her out for a night on the town, and had certainly dressed for the occasion. He looked so good that it took Aelin a moment to pull herself together before she could respond. Taking a deep breath, she gave him a bright smile as she sidled up to him.

“Of course,” she answered. “Just so you know, I would kiss you right now if I wasn’t so worried about messing up my lipstick.”

He chuckled, glancing down at the floor before looking back up at her. “I appreciate it.” Leaning in closer, he pressed a kiss to her nose. “That will have to suffice for now, I guess.”

Aelin breezed past him, grabbing her coat and his. At his amused expression, she smirked at him. “Come on, buzzard. As amazing as I am sure the food will be, the faster we get going, the faster we can get back. Then we can find all sorts of ways for me to smear my lipstick.”

He had never moved faster.

Aelin was right: the food was amazing. She had let out a moan with her first bite sinful enough that Rowan had banged his knee on the table. It had been all too tempting to tease and toy with him all night, but she made it clear that if that was how the main course tasted, there was no way in hell she was skipping dessert. 

In turn, Rowan had made it painfully clear that he would be having his own dessert later. The gleam in his eyes had been enough to make her toes curl. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t looking forward to it. She had barely scooped the last forkful of delicious chocolate cake into her mouth when Rowan had asked the waiter for the check. He helped her into her coat before shrugging on his own.

The walk back to the bed & breakfast was cold, but made all the warmer by Rowan tucking her into his side. Halfway there, she paused, tugging Rowan to a stop beside her. He spun towards her, brow furrowed as he opened his mouth to ask her—

Whatever he had planned to ask her was silenced by the press of her lips to his. When they finally pulled apart, he stared down at her, pine green eyes wide. “What was that for?”

“Because I wanted to,” Aelin answered honestly. “And because I love you.”

Rowan’s swollen lips tugged up into a smile. While it was soft and gentle and shy, it still shone brighter than the lights strung up on all the buildings around them, at least to Aelin. He pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead, each eyelid, her nose, and finally her lips. “I love you, too, Fireheart.”

NOW

Something that felt awfully like an elbow stabbed into her ribs, startling Aelin enough to drop something she had been holding in her hand. A mug, she realized. The travel mug she is sure to take with her to all of her many late night study sessions in the library. Inhaling sharply, whirl around to find a different pair of green eyes staring at her. With those different green eyes was brown hair, not pale blonde.

“Finally awake, are we?” Lysandra teased. The playful smile on her face fell in the silence after she spoke.

Aelin stared at her friend, blinking away the images of t-shirts on doors, dinner parties, and coastal towns that were swirling around in her brain. She opened her mouth to answer, but when no words came out, she closed it.

“Aelin?” Worry coated Lysandra’s words. “Are you okay? You spaced out there for a while.”

“Yeah,” Aelin rasped, finally emerging from the haze. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just—”

Someone brushed against her shoulder. It was quick, but hard enough that she spun around, only to find those gods-damned green eyes looking back at her. 

“Sorry,” Rowan Whitethorn said, offering her a grin until his eyes met her own, realizing who he had bumped into, and then that smile fell. “Aelin,” he breathed. 

“Hi, Rowan.” She gave him a half smile that she knew didn’t quite reach her eyes. Aelin hated the way her face still flushed because of him, even after everything. Something she couldn’t quite place flickered in his eyes, and then he was backing up, running a hand through his hair. She really hated the way it fell like dominos, perfectly into place. 

“I, uh, I have to go. Lyria’s waiting for me.” His voice was quiet, his eyes seeming to fall on everything except her face. “But it was nice to see you.”

Aelin knew it for the lie it was. 

“Nice to see you, too, Rowan,” she offered, but he was already gone.

“Damn, in all your talking, you never said that he was that handsome,” Lysandra said, following Rowan as he hurried away from them. From Aelin. Then she froze, wincing a bit as she turned towards her friend. “I’m so sorry, Aelin. I should not have said that. Gods, I feel terrible.”

“It’s okay, Lys.” And it was. Aelin’s own eyes landed Rowan once more, where he now stood with his new girlfriend. She saw how he looked at Lyria, knowing fully well how it felt to be looked at like that. To be looked at by that by him. But it was not to be, and he was with Lyria now. And when he bent down towards her, eyes closing, she knew what would happen next, so she turned away.

There would be no dinner parties, no weekend getaways to little coastal towns. Maybe once there would have been, but not anymore. It was merely folklore she’d imagined. Days, weeks, months, entire lives with him that could never be, will never be. 

She couldn’t dare to dream about him anymore.

Aelin glanced down at the mug in her hand, the one she knew held nothing but her cold tea from yesterday, and let those daydreams fade away.

[eggnoah]

Accepting yourself is hard.

(this is going to be a vent kinda thing, but also my gender history?, so feel free to skip this one, i just want to document it)

Lately it has been very hard to accept myself. As a trans guy, pre everything, thats understandable. I have a very feminine figure, a big bust and large hips, a small body and I’m on the chubbier side. 

The thing is, I dont experience body dysphoria like most other trans people (judging by what i have seen online about other trans peoples’ experiences), i rarely even experience it in the first place.

Of course I’m thinking things like “I’d be happier in a mans body” and “My chest is bothering me” but thats about it, i don’t break down crying because of my body. I just dislike it.

I know that I’m not the only trans person out there with basically no body/gender dysphoria, but I still feel invalid sometimes. Why am I not like others? Am I just doing this because I don’t know what to do with my life?  ( a good tip i picked up somewhere is: “If you ask yourself if you’re faking it, you’re most likely not faking it)

I actually already came out to my close family (parents & siblings) and while they support me, they haven’t stopped misgendering me. The closest I got was my dad and step-mom calling me by my prefered name over text on my birthday. While it felt nice, it doesn’t change that my dad is now scared to adress me at all except for adressing me directly (what do you think etc.). 

While I totally understand that it’s hard to adress someone male when they clearly aren’t and you have called them female pronouns and names all their life, it still sucks. What makes matters worse is that my mom just completely ignored what i told her, only said “oh yea we have to talk about that one day” ( I wrote her a coming out letter) only to never talk about it ever again, and it has been 3-4 months. 

I never had any signs growing up that I was going to end up trans. I was always a feminine person, i was a diva as a child, loved girly things and never expressed my want to be boyish. And i wasn’t unhappy either, i liked being female, but... I always thought “When I’ll be reborn I hope I’ll be guy”, “I’m really envious of a guy’s body, man I’d be so much happier”, but the thought never occured that i could be trans, i just thought that everyone thought this way (I know very cliché) and I had a friend that had the same mindset, so i never questioned it. But when I looked in the mirror I knew I wasn’t me. So I experimented with hairstyles, clothing styles etc. but it didn’t change anything.

When I started to question my gender i thought I was just NB or fluid between female and agender. Only then I started trying looking masculine. At first I was repulsed my male pronouns, they didn’t feel right with my name. But I always liked the name noah, and “If i would be a gyu I would love to be called noah”, so I tried it. I got used to the name and the male pronouns, and I came out as genderfluid, with the names nikki and noah, with they/he pronouns. But over time the “nikki” in me was dissapearing, leaving me, noah, to take over the body. It was like he had always been there, but just in the back, watching. The more I used “noah” the more “nikki” dissapeared, I felt like i was reborn. It was wierd and good. 

I scrolled through reddit, finding r/egg_irl and similar subreddits, and i think when i heard of elliot page coming out as trans, i slowly realized, that i was trans too. Elliot was the protagonist of my favorite childhood movie “Juno”.

So..i kinda speedran my egg process and broke my shell, and came out as trans to my friends. 

This was half a year ago, I’m still in doubt, because I realized all of these thigns so quickly, the whole process was like 2 months, while most take years of realizing, denying and backtracking, coming out to their families after years and years of suffering. Realizing they are in the wrong body in an early age. I was none of these things. And I feel like it went to fast to be valid. But everytime I get deadnamed and misgendered I know its wrong. I hate it. 

This brings me to today, after a weekend trip of misgendering and surviving a few panic attacks, I haven’t been able to draw myself for months now. A persona? yes. But I have always wanted to make a “meet the artist” but I just haven’t been ablt to be happy with my sketches.  So i just decided to draw who I am right now.

And that made me realize something. I am proud of who I am right now. I haven’t been able to get a haircut for months, I can’t regularily wear binders anymore because they hurt, but: I am proud. So far I came out to everyone I care about, and the people who care about me are trying their best. I walked on my first pride parade a month ago and felt at home. I go to a therapist regularily to fight my anxiety, and I work and get paid for it. 

It will take a long time until I get top surgery/hormone therapy, it will take a long time to get over my traumas, but i can confidentally say:

I am proud of who I am, right now. 

[peachdoxie]

It’s always an experience to look back at myself as an adolescent and realize how much of my behavior was influenced by the fact that I am asexual and aromantic but didn’t yet know that.

In elementary school, I mostly wore t-shirts and pants of some sort. They were vaguely feminine, but not very much. To be honest, I don’t think I paid that much attention to what I wore in elementary school, though I was obviously influenced by external factors. But in the fifth grade (age 10-11) is I think when I started to actively reject femininity. It definitely happened once I started middle school (11-14). I opted more for a gender neutral look rather than a masculine look, though I didn’t think of it that way - just “not girly”. This trend followed me into high school (14-18), though around age 15 or so I got over my “not like other girls” mentality, which was never super strong but definitely present.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to dress more femininely. There were times when I wished I could wear a blouse instead of a t-shirt and get a hair cut or something. I didn’t want to be super feminine and wear makeup or jewelry or whatnot, but the t-shirt look is hard to pull off and still be seen as mature and have people take me seriously as I grew older. I actually enjoyed the chances to look rather feminine when the circumstances allowed it – namely, dances at high school (until I stopped going to them entirely) and prom.

The problem was that I didn’t like the attention I got whenever I made a change. If I wore a nicer shirt one day, people would comment on it. If I got a hair cut, people would comment on it. If I did anything out of the ordinary, people would comment on it. And save for social situations that were intended for fancier clothing, such as school dances, I did not like the attention. At all. It was mostly from teachers and other female friends who were genuinely nice about it, not even unwanted attention from boys or men. It didn’t help that I went to a small K-12 school, meaning I was with the same 100-odd classmates every year and regularly encountered my old teachers. There were no good transition moments to make any changes besides summer, and even then I didn’t.

I used to wear my hair in a ponytail all the time – initially just to keep it out of my face, but then because I did that constantly, any time I would wear it down on a normal day, someone would comment on it. It got to the point where I would keep it in the ponytail all the time. It was somewhere past my shoulder most of the time. One day when I was 15, during my regularly scheduled hair cut, I decided to cut off enough inches to donate the hair and my stylist straightened my hair for it. It was cut to a bit above my shoulders. I wore it down the next day at school and got a lot of compliments about it. It made me so uncomfortable that I put it back in a ponytail the next day.

(I eventually got so sick of the ponytail and the way it made me look too gender neutral that I forced myself to get it cut short enough that I couldn’t put it in a ponytail and I just dealt with the discomfort until my shorter hair was normalized.)

It did vex me, back then, why I didn’t like any attention that focused on how pretty I looked whenever I made some change to my physical appearance. I didn’t think that it was because I didn’t think I wasn’t pretty and that’s why I didn’t like the attention – I was fairly aware of how body image problems in teenagers worked, and to my recollection, that never played a big role in my dislike of attention. I knew I had good skin and pretty eyes and did think my face was pleasing when I looked in the mirror. And rejecting femininity a bit helped me find solace in not conforming to beauty standards. I also must give credit to my mother, who was nothing but supportive and never pressured me to perform femininity, and neither really did any of the other adult figures that had a significant influence on me, which certainly helped.

As an adult who has studied queer theory and feminist theory, and who has reflected on my experience as a young acearo woman, I’ve come to realize how much my sexual and romantic orientations impacted me in this regard. It resolves the paradox of wanting to be more feminine-presenting to look more mature while simultaneously dreading any attention I’d get for making a change towards femininity.

To a younger me, any attention to my appearance when I presented even a tiny bit femininely meant that it increased the chances that a boy might ask me out. Not hit on me, but ask me out. It was one of the interpersonal things I dreaded the most during high school. I did not want a boy to ask me out because I knew I would say no because I wasn’t interested in dating. I was desperately afraid of making things awkward between me and whoever it was, because the boys that were most likely to ask me out (in my mind) were the boys I was close friends with. In my mind, knowing that a friend of mine in high school had a crush on me was a terrifying prospect – knowing that I had rejected them while they were still “in love” with me. The influence of media was definitely there, as I’d seen way too many Disney Channel TV shows and movies where the guy was rejected by the girl and it made things awkward. I didn’t want to lose any of my friends that way. (I won’t go into details, but my reluctance to date anyone did end up backfiring on me and I did lose a friend, though that was largely due to my own awkwardness on not understanding why I was so reluctant to date anyone.)

The romance part would have been okay-ish, but at that point I didn’t yet have a split-attraction model to go on and so, to me, any act of dating would necessarily involve holding hands, cuddling, and kissing, and possibly sexual activity, all of which I knew as early as age 11 that I did not want. And because I was repulsed by the idea of physical and sexual intimacy, dating was out of the question. I knew it was okay to not want to date anyone and to not want to have sex with anyone, during high school or ever, because my mother had raised me to think those are valid options (thanks Mom), but at the time, I didn’t have a concept of what being sex-repulsed was.

I think that made it difficult and uncomfortable for me to process the idea that someone could be sexually attracted to me. I wasn’t so ignorant to believe that other people were also repulsed by sex and I knew other people enjoyed sex, especially teenagers. But the mere idea that someone could view me in a way related to sex – even if they didn’t want to act on it – was so unsettling to me that I couldn’t stand it. I don’t think it was about being seen as a sexual object by boys, since those were easy to turn down (and I did have a few male classmates ask me out), but rather seen as being sexually attractive to boys I already had a good friendship with.

Also, while I was aware of homosexuality from a young age and had no problems with it, there were no girls out as wlw while all of this was going on, so it didn’t occur to me to be wary of their attraction. I knew as well that I wasn’t interested in girls, so – because my framework was “straight or gay” without a concept of asexuality – by default I must be interested in boys, and them with me. There’s also the gendered stereotypes of girls sharing everything with their girl friends, but not sharing emotional intimacy with boys. But most of my good friends were boys, and so if I were to be emotionally intimate with any of them, I’d have to date them.

Of course, I lacked the knowledge and self-awareness to figure all of this out until much later, and it took longer to come to terms with the relationship I had between femininity, others’ sexual attraction, and my own self-image (though none of that is static, nor should it be). I also lacked the awareness that the boys I was friends with who might be interested in asking me out might also not be interested in a physical and sexual relationship. I didn’t have the concept that an emotionally intimate relationship in high school could be anything but physical or sexual. I think a lot of it came down to the fact that I didn’t know how to process any potential awkwardness, but I wasn’t fully aware of my inability to process it, so I just avoided it as much as I possibly could. Looking back, there were definitely some contradictions in how I thought and behaved, but hey, I was a young and socially awkward teenager navigating an uncharted territory that I didn’t know was uncharted.

Besides being fairly vocal to my friends about the fact I wasn’t interested in dating (which I explained away by saying “I don’t want to be distracted by dating during high school”, such a typical excuse of non-straight folk) the best weapon I had against people finding me attractive was to downplay my appearance. And so I desexualized my appearance – or, rather, maintained the neutral appearance I’d had from elementary school and made it even less attractive to boys (at least, in the opinion of my adolescent self.) Any act of femininity that was noticed by a teacher or female classmate was something that could be noticed by a boy in my high school, which meant that they may be inspired to ask me out, which meant sexual attraction, which was repulsive and uncomfortable to me.

I hold no ill will towards myself for not understanding this when I was a teenager, and I don’t blame any of the authority figures or educators in my life for not helping me understand this. It’s likely they didn’t understand any of this themselves, and it’s not like I was fully aware of why I felt certain ways and did certain things either, nor was I very open about all of this either because I can be a rather private person at times. It’s also not like asexuality, aromanticism, and sex-repulsion are well-known things, let alone discussed frequently in books about childrearing and queer adolescents. It’s just another sign of how the hyper focus on heterosexual monogamy (also known as amatonormativity) in Western culture and society actively hurts queer people, especially when they’re young and aren’t aware that they’re not straight, or are but are struggling to come to terms with that (it also applies to non-cis folk, but that’s not relevant to my experience.)

Ultimately, I see my struggles with gender presentation and interpersonal relationships, and the stress they caused me, during middle and high school as a symptom of our culture and society’s failure in general to represent a wide variety of queer experiences – particularly outside of lesbian, gay, and trans identities – to young people so that people like me can better understand themselves. I can’t deny the fact that the social norms about dating and relationships in high school that I found in the media I consumed had a major impact on me, to the point where they sometimes contradicted how my mother tried to raise me. This post is in part a reflection on myself that struck me recently, but also yet another piece of evidence about how the lack of representation for ace and aro people actively damages our lives.

[kimyoonmiauthor]

Gender

Lower engagement, but higher personal satisfaction... let’s go for that.

How I define my gender.

I’ve never really been 100% committed to being a woman.

https://www.quora.com/How-do-I-know-I-am-cisgender-Ive-heard-some-cis-people-do-question-their-gender-and-Im-trying-to-tell-whether-Im-trans-or-one-of-these-cases Taking the questions from here... it would split this way: Gender dysphoria- when I was younger, a little. Gender Euphoria- never. Gender Politics (beyond basic empathy for others)- Oh fuck no. I don’t get why so many, particularly cis men are hung up on men must wear pants and not pink. I *do* look for women in history, but it’s more like a solidarity and hating erasure of marginalized groups and celebrating those marginalized groups. So political one way, but not particularly on the philosophical performance part. I also tend to spend a lot of time on things I don’t understand.

“Do you feel equally comfortable in men and women’s fashion, only noticing the practical differences?” Pretty much. If you give me a man’s suit I’d wear it. I had no issues with playing as a man for a skit.

 Are you basically ambivalent about makeup? 50/50. Sometimes I do care and do it for “funsies” but most of the time I don’t care because I don’t like “woman as object and consumerism.”

“Do you ‘play along’ when someone tells you what your assignment should be doing, but also don’t really care?”

Pretty much true. Like I was told girls aren’t supposed to like dirt. Screw that. girls aren’t supposed to like sports. I was like screw that. Girls aren’t supposed to like bugs. So what?

I did tend to read more women-led fiction over men’s fiction, but that’s mostly because men’s fiction has “gems” that sexualize women in ways that made me squirm. Cis het men’s writing about women usually piss me off, so I usually don’t try. And I’m all about the fairness. (But also note I’m gray-aro and read a crapton of romance, so who knows how that all works. I’m also gray-a and read a crapton of romance, though not sex repulsed (more like somewhere between sex neutral and receptive? I rated myself a 6-7... on a 0-9 scale.)) Gender tests I’ve taken: 50/50. Usually get something like demi-boy or demi girl. Though I don’t really have that much dysphoria. I do occasionally feel pissed off about my sex presentation, but that’s not really dysphoria as in I hate my body parts actively. It’s more like, why do I have to bother with it? It’s so much work to have to worry in the first place.

When you look in the mirror, do you feel like there’s nothing that really needs to be changed?

This one is more like why do I have to care so much? I feel gender fucked. Like why do I have to go through the steps?

Are you happy with your hair, your chest, the shape of your face?

50/50 on this one.

Aside from maybe wanting to bulk up, wash your hair, or lose a few pounds, are you generally pleased with your appearance?

I give no shits?

Do you appreciate your genitals?

75%/25% appreciation/hate. Sometimes I hate they exist.

Do you like the idea of using them in sex or to make a baby?

This is more like my ace side, I think, but meh? Take it or leave it.

Do they make you feel connected to other people with the same genitals socially, such as complaining about periods, or talking about dick length?

Not really. I’m more like why do you care so fucking much? But I’m not sure how much this is an ace thing.

Do you feel like even if you don’t use them, it’s comfortable just having them around?

Sometimes, not always. Might also be an ace thing.

If you were in a social group of only your assigned gender, would you be happy with it?

Not always. I don’t evaluate that way. Trans people are cool. I pick usually by belief systems and who the person is, morally.

Would it be fairly easy to communicate and find things in common?

I feel ambivalent sometimes towards other women, especially when they go off on tangents about mall shopping, clothes, etc. I feel the same about men talking about watching sports and warfare.

Would you feel harmonious and homogeneous with the group, if the individuals had personalities you liked?

Meh? I also listen to people I don’t like.

If you took away all the physical features that made up your assignment, what gender are you now? Where does that feeling come from?

I’m still me. I don’t care.

If you got to choose your gender upon reincarnation, what would you pick?

Flip a coin. Roll a dice. I don’t give a fuck.

If a wizard changed your sex permanently, would you be pissed or excited?

Meh. Don’t care.

What gender characters do you generally play in RPGs, and what options do you wish were more frequently available?

I’ve generally played women, given no other options besides binary, but also moonlighted as men, but then felt sick because male privilege.

“Do I FEEL like my assigned gender?”*

Shrugs. Not that committed. If you got an all-expenses paid trip to womanhood spa central, and became a socially idealized version of yourself, THEN would you feel like a woman? 

No. I oscillate between liking make up for the pure knowledge of it, and not giving a fuck. I’ve never understood the hours of make up, hair performance, etc.

As a child, I was the type that wanted to be good at *everything* and was upset that my Dad wouldn’t give me the time of day for “masculine” things. I was *also* good at figuring things out. I *also* wanted to be good at sports. I *also* like girly things occasionally. I wanted it all and didn’t see why my brother or me got compliments for different things and felt deep insult when I couldn’t do that too and also get compliments for it. (If you’re imagining an annoying precocious child--that’s about right) I don’t see the point of the gender construct when it re-enforces ideas of genders can do only certain things, when it’s never been proven true. So why are people so effing committed to performing it? I wear hanbok. I’ll wear a male one. I’ll make an androgynous one. I wear those without issue. I’ll cross dress if I like, because I don’t really see the point and European and European-derived defined genders as fucked in the first place. What is this men==violence and horses thing? What is this women==weakness and capitalism thing? I don’t get it. And why do I have to wear European-derived clothes in the first place? Plus from my academic study of gender and gender history, that just cemented for me how fucked up the White European and White European diaspora is about gender in the first place and I feel even less committed to it. I do perform usually more like a woman than a man, but it’s more like whatever is convenient, rather than an absolute commitment to the role. ‘cause you know, my gender is my least concern here, (probably along with ace aro) while not quite hating on it. I wear my hair long, because money and I don’t feel like cutting it very often and I like to be able to keep it out of my food, as well.

I don’t mind masculine pronouns in theory, because whatever floats your boat. But I do care if you think foreign name==men, because that’s giving into masculine hegemony and that is rude to other people unlike me who might be more committed to their genders, and that I definitely care about.

[it-stheaulifeforme]

40 to 60

awwwwww yiSSSSSSS

40. What is the wildest thing your OC has done?

Not exactly one for being super wild, but they have a habit of underestimating energy drinks and drink quite a few of them, or when they get a particularly good haul they sometimes spend it on cool shiny rocks. They can be quite careless like that, but r o c k s.

41. What is your OCs motto about life?

They don’t tend to have a lot of mottos about life, just trying to take it easy, understand things and see the sights. They try not to worry about the future, life has been out of control enough. They tend to cross bridges when they come to them whilst also being prepared; it’s the past they have problems with. They try and remember what their mother taught them, especially when it comes to using violence. They’re not of the strongest disposition but they’ll only fight when they have to. Life shouldn’t have to be about struggle and suffering, you shouldn’t have to put up unnecessary fights in order to learn and grow. You just gotta take care of yourself.

Of course, when Ego reveals a very horrible truth, violence is pretty much the key, alongside the assertion of human connection and individuality. The latter part is just as important.

42. Does your OC drink coffee or tea?

Coffee, but their eyes usually get caught by energy drinks and interesting sodas. Which certainly gives them an interesting buzz and they really like collecting the cans or bottles. Makes them think of the differences compared back to Earth, which can make them terribly nostalgic.

43. Who is your OCs biggest hero?

Their mother. They have the biggest connection to them and admire them a lot; her values have stayed with them despite everything. They often despair at what happened to her and how things could’ve been, feeling very much cheated but still wanting to carry around her memory and values because she was the most stable figure in their life that meant a great deal. Like anybody would, it becomes absolutely soul destroying that you’re now stuck on a planet alone with a father that killed your mother, where they find even more of a reason to keep her memory and that connection alive, in more ways than one.

44. What colour eyes does your OC have?

They take a lot after their mother and have predominantly hazel-green eyes. I feel it made a lot of sense because they started off as a self insert, and they’re very close to their mother. It very much represents nature and growth as opposed to Ego’s destruction of everything to remake it in his image and it’s very clear that they’re not whatsoever like their father at all, in the end. I thought this would be suitable symbolism where we get to see a real growth in their abilities and more of an understanding of a connection with their mother.

45. Does your OC like reading?

Since they’re usually cruising space in their own ship, it’s one thing they like to do. Apart from listen to their music, they manage to have one book from Earth that was in their bag when they were abducted and that’s the War of the Worlds (in a clearly more battered condition) which their mother bought for them after they got interested in the musical version. It takes their mind off of things, which browsing libraries on different planets also happens to do. Especially Xandar, which they found to be the most peaceful and easy to reside in.

46. Is your OC loyal?

Well...they have enough trust issues and they’re more of a loner, so it’d take a lot for them to be convinced before loyalty comes into it. They’re already cynical enough by the time when they meet Ego, especially since they have a sense they aren’t aware of them not feeling great when someone of a particularly evil nature is nearby (which they always chalked up to allergies or eating the wrong thing - it’s not so bad in general but since Ego is on such a terrible level of evil they don’t suspect any connection until it’s too late). It probably helps that they’re only half Celestial but get more from their mother (which is symbolic in of itself that they were the ones that inherited the gene and somehow still get a good deal from their mother, that clearly meant something).

So, frankly, they’d rather avoid the company of others in general, and a whole lot of repressed feelings and trust issues just kinda explode out by the time they’re with Ego. There’s a lot of trauma they’ve had to deal with, and that’s hard enough when you’re travelling around the universe learning to survive and get on with things.

47. Does your OC tolerate violence?

Answered in this post.

48. What social class is your OC from?

I don’t know how our distinction between classes on Earth applies to outer space or different planets for that instance, but they���d be the equivalent of working class. A lot of the time they find space junk and get some of the profit in selling it; it’s just a case of making enough to get by and frankly they’re fine with that. There’s a lot they’d rather be doing but they need the money like anybody else. It doesn’t help the kind of rough environment they entered when they got abducted.

49. What country was your OC born in?

The south of England. Their mother was originally from the US and met Ego the first couple of times but had to leave with her family to the UK (she was in her early 20s and she was having problems finding work) and it was there she found out she was expecting and ended up having them there. She did see him the next couple of times when he came over after they were born but he said he eventually had to leave, even making the (broken) promise to come over and they’d go back together.

50. Does your OC cry easily?

Usually, but they had to learn to hide it when they got abducted, so they ended up managing to do much of it in their sleep. It was tolerated to an extent but they ended up keeping a lot to themselves because it made more sense that way. On their own ship they do end up crying a whole lot when interacting with much of their mother’s stuff they still held onto and a whole lot of it really comes out when they find out the truth about Ego. They do cry beforehand, out of anger, wistfulness and wanting to understand, but that all gets thrown out of the window and all the pain gets directed at him in the end. So frankly, though they’ve had to hide it a lot, it never went away and they are certainly a very emotional person.

51. What is your OCs favourite genre of music?

They don’t have a specific genre but they are partial to acoustic and rock, usually heavy, sometimes classic but especially pop rock.

52. How does your OC feel about insects?

They’re alright but they can be annoying. Especially when you’re travelling around in space, the breeds can get quite...interesting, so they’d rather stay far away from them. They weren’t the biggest fan of them on Earth but left them alone to do their own thing, although they did make an exception for butterflies.

53. What is your OCs sexual orientation?

Asexual. They’ve never really felt that spark with someone and is frankly kinda repulsed at the idea of sex, so they find other things to do. They prefer listening to music, reading and spending time at libraries at different planets, preferably Xandar. Which also takes their mind off of things. Though that doesn’t eveh take into account their own loner status and trust issues; they’ve just not felt that connection with anybody and would preferably not get involved anyway.

54. Does your OC smoke?

Never. Their mother was the first they learnt not to do it from and no matter what from that point on they never felt the need to. They had more than enough to deal with without taking up smoking.

55. What gender is your OC?

Nonbinary but leans towards a more masculine presentation. It took them a while to figure it out but frankly they were really in over their head with a lot of things, so they didn’t figure it out properly until they were more or less out of the environment they were abducted into. They were still pretty much dressing more gender neutral/masculine before then, but they eventually found a safer space to understand themselves.

Of course, this still really leaves them open to misgendering; they prefer they/them pronouns but don’t mind he/him; unfortunately they have been mistaken for female and been referred to with she/her pronouns which can be grating at the very least. Ego is the worst culprit as per usual, as even if he only becomes slightly aware, he can be kinda patronising about it and when the truth is revealed and hell breaks loose, he’s way more malicious about it.

56. What kind of clothes does your OC wear?

Always keen on them jeans and trainers, but often swaps out t-shirts and jumpers depending on how they feel. Leather jackets are a go to but they’re just as keen on wearing hoodies. They also find it really nice to wear fingerless gloves and when we find them when they see Ego, they’re wearing what looks like the equivalent of a bandana to keep the hair out of their eyes - it’s only later when they realise how sick they are of everything and let out a lot of repressed emotion that they just fucking---cut it off. But that’s their usual stuff - casual as hell, but we see a particular change in appearance when things really take a turn for the absolute WORST.

57. Would you call your OC adventurous?

Probably. They do like planet hopping and cruising around, even if they prefer to stick to some more favoured places like Xandar and their own ship. They just wanna be left alone and do their own thing. They just want to have that freedom away from things and find their own peace.

58. Is your OC introverted or extroverted?

Introverted. They predominantly find energy more or less by themselves and feel restless in social situations. Not that they mind it, but they prefer getting on with things by themselves just fine. Besides, they’re wary enough of things without getting involved in deep conversations and suchlike, generally. It takes a lot.

59. What is the first thing someone would notice about your OC?

They’re generally shorter and keep to themselves as they walk around, carrying headphones around their neck.

60. Does your OC enjoy nature?

Generally. When they were back on Earth, they used to go for a lot of walks in the country with their mother, especially since they were right near a whole lot of countryside. They haven’t managed to find the same feeling since, especially since they’re wary about the species on different alien planets. It was a whole different feeling on Ego’s planet though, which really took their fancy before...everything happened.

[medi-melancholy]

i’ve been really coming to terms the past few months about my relationship with gender identity and i want to put some of my thoughts on paper. this is is very steam of consciousness so it’ll probably be repetitive or incoherent, but i want to talk about it openly. I PROMISE I’M OK LMAO i just wanna chat to myself

anyone who knows me knows i love dolls. hell, i’m dollkin, of course. and a big part of why i identify with dolls so much is because of physical reasons. a doll can be physically neutral without any sexual characteristics, yet perceived as leaning more towards a certain gender based on how they’re dressed. a ‘girl’ doll may wear dresses and bows and such, but has no true physical gender. if that ‘girl’ doll wanted to, they could be dressed more like a ‘boy’, or stay completely neutral perception-wise. hell, they could wear dresses and bows and skirts and be identified as a boy or as having no gender, in spite of traditionally ‘feminine’ clothing.

i LOVE that. that’s like... an ideal situation to me.

i think another reason i identify so much with the lack of physical gender/sexual traits the vast majority of dolls possess is because i’m asexual and quite sex-repulsed. the thought of ever being around a naked person makes me sick, because i just reeeally don’t want to see any of those parts. i don’t even like seeing my own parts most of the time. i just want to be... nothing.

a lot of my hatred for parts of my body likely relates to my struggles with disordered eating and chronic illness, but that’s an issue for another time.

i would love to have the ability to be neutrally gendered by default. i technically can be if i want to! but because i have ‘female’ physical characteristics, people will pretty much always automatically assume that i am female. i understand it’s an issue to say something like... “having a chest and hips = female!” because that’s absolutely not true, i understand that. but to someone who desires to fit society’s view of what is female, having those characteristics is valuable. yknow?? so it’s not like... an entirely bad concept, if it helps someone be more comfortable and happy with who they are.

by that same token, i bind (safely!) every now and then because i want to be lacking in those physical characteristics, and therefore hopefully perceived as more neutral. hell, i’ve crossdressed before and presented as male for historical reenactment purposes, and i LOVE IT. i love having the freedom to control my gender. it feels so good.

it was easier when i was younger, when i wasn’t curvy. when i kept my hair very short due to abuse, and could easily pass as ‘male’.

these days i spend a lot of time dressed as a stormtrooper or a tie fighter pilot, neutral costumes with helmets with conceal my gender. i cherish the moments i have in those sorts of costumes, largely in part because in those moments it’s not my gender that matters but instead the children i bring joy to, but i digress. there’s certainly a theme with my feelings, though.

i end up feeling most comfortable cosplaying characters of unconventional gender presentation, i’ve noticed.

i had my phase around middle school where i hated the color pink, i hated traditionally feminine things, i never wore skirts or dresses, i wanted the color blue, i wanted pants. i felt weird and out of place trying to fit into ‘girly’ roles. it’s weird to think i was ever in that place, considering my interests now, but it sure did happen. i think a lot of this time might relate to me coming to terms with my sexuality--being asexual, and the struggles of having sexual characteristics--and also realizing i really REALLY like girls. my subconscious thought process might’ve been something like, “boys like girls, and i like girls, so maybe i should be more like a boy?”

i grew up, thank god, in a household that didn’t force me into playing house, playing with dolls, all that stuff. i was welcome to play with whatever toys i wanted, watch whatever shows appealed to me, listen to whatever music i liked. so, i had both barbies and transformers, i had bratz and star wars, i had a mix of ‘girly’ and ‘boyish’ music and movies i enjoyed. i was certainly bullied for this, harshly so, but i’m eternally thankful that my parents have been accepting of me ever since day 1.

for many years i’ve had trouble identifying with being afab, with being a girl, because of my body. i have a hormone imbalance of some sort that does fucked up things to my mind and body, and i suspect i have some sort of issue with, well, the girly internal hardware too, but i’ve been horrified to go to a specialist about that sort of thing because i HATE talking about... those parts, it’s making me feel sick right now. i don’t want anyone looking around down there, EVER.

anyways, my hair grows in absurdly fast and absurdly thick, everywhere, even before i felt pressured to start shaving as a kid. my legs, arms, pits,eyebrows, just everywhere. even my face, i do have to shave my face. it’s... invalidating, i guess, of my supposed ‘womanhood’, so i find myself having trouble calling myself a real girl. i know hair is a natural thing, and i NEVER ever judge other people for it, but i do judge myself.

i’ve often described my feelings as... i want to be a girl, i know on some level that i am a girl. but i’m physically NOT a girl, and i only want to strive for feminine physical traits in some ways, not in others.

it’s a very weird, depersonalizing feeling, considering i’m afab.

there’s also the fact i’m like 6 feet tall, that’s certainly not a ‘girl’ trait. “no one will dance with a tall girl”, the saying goes. i’m leggy and gangly and weird. and somehow curvy at the same time. i look like a joke lol

i wanna mention that i had a phase in high school where if any of my friends asked me what my gender was, i’d just pull up a clip of a la cucaracha horn. that’s still such a huge mood.

ever since i was a kid, i’ve found myself drawn to characters who are androgynous or don’t conform to typical gender presentation, and i’ve never really known why. i figured, maybe that’s my idea of beauty or something? i hate to word it like this but i like... really found myself attached to male characters that presented femininely, or dressed as such, or wear lots of makeup, and i still feel that way? that just feels so safe, so comfortable, so real to me. that’s reflected in my IDs/kintypes too, i really really relate to gender neutral characters, or characters who are ‘supposed to’ be masculine but are feminine instead, or any combination, just... nontypical displays of gender.

it feels so suitable to what i want in life, i think. the same feeling i want to achieve.

funny that pretty much every single character i identify with is a doll/puppet or related to them in some way, too, huh? it all sorta connects, i guess. i value the nonhuman trait of having no definitive physical gender, i guess?

i’ve had people suggest to me before that i’m a demigirl, maybe, but that never felt right. i’ve had people say “hey, sounds like you’re nonbinary” but i just... don’t feel right with that term? just for me personally.

it’s almost like i don’t want to label my gender. it feels so vague, so indistinguishable.

girl a little bit to the left. girl flavored la croix. the tape outline of a corpse at a crime scene, and the corpse happened to be a girl. hint of hint of girl. i don’t feel that all the time, though. sometimes i just feel.. an absence of gender. no gender but with vaguely feminine traits.

at the same time, i worry myself about identifying as a lesbian. i’m only interested in dating people who identify as female, that’s who i end up attracted to. i want a girlfriend, i want a wife.

but if i’m not entirely a girl myself, can i still call myself a lesbian?

well, i’ve never judged or policed other people, so why the fuck am i judging myself? we really are our own worst critics.

anyways, within my close circle of friend-family, i’ve been going by they/them for a while and also neutral terms, for the most part. it feels good, it feels comfortable. it’s not something i’m gonna want 24/7, but sometimes that’s how i’m feeling so that’s the terminology i should use. makes sense, feels good.

i can still be a sister, a daughter, a girlfriend. but i can be a sibling, a datefriend, too. i can use she/her and they/them at the same time, or whenever i’m feeling one over the other

the closest word i’ve found for how i feel is gender nonconforming, but i still don’t want to put a label on myself in this case.

i just wanted to get this off my chest. or... get my chest off. it’s complicated.

you can call me sarah, you can call me medi, you can call me a person who is a girl, a person who’s sort of a girl but sorta not. i dunno. i’m just me.

i thought i had all my identify stuff figured out but these past few months have been Whew

shoutout to my friends for always being so supportive and loving, yall are the best. 

and uhhhhhh thanks for reading, sorry for getting so real all of a sudden.

this may have been brought on because i have a new doll kintype whose gender is a fuck and i was like shit, that’s me, huh!

[wingwaver]

I wanna take a minute to talk about how I feel when it comes to my own gender and sexuality. I'm not to great at explaining things though so bare with me I guess.

I guess I'll start off with the fact that, even a child, I always hated having a vagina and when I found out that "boys" were born with something different I was envious. It especially got worse when I started getting my period around 10 years old and was told that "boys" don't have to go through that (I know now that that's false of course because trans boys and men have periods) so when I was kid I HATED being a girl and had often wished that I had been born a boy instead.

When I was little I refused to wear dresses, or like anything considered too girly. I was considered a "tomboy" and loved baggy boys clothes and things considered "boys things" instead of "girl things" (save for BRATZ, Polly Pocket, and Barbie I fuckin loved those).

I would often get mistaken for a boy and get called "he" and while some didn't notice the "mistake" at first someone would always point out "no she's a girl". Getting called "he" never felt insulting though, it felt good. I didn't (and still don't) mind being called "she" but "he" never made me feel bad. It was everyone else that made a big deal about it and I never understood why.

Some could say a lot of that was internalized sexism (and yeah I'll admit some of it was). Just a few years ago I finally started embracing my femininity, I actually started liking wearing dresses and skirts and now love the color pink and I like wearing revealing clothes from time to time. And for a while I was content that way, but then people expected me to be feminine all the time and the magic of finally being a girl/woman wore off.

But now I feel good doing both. I'll dress "feminine" some days and "masculine" some days or a lil mix of both. And yeah, everyone can do that because clothes don't actually have gender but it feels good to finally be able to have a "middle ground" and realize that I don't have to be seen as "just" a woman or man.

Now, I didn't learn about non binary genders or the fact that you could use other pronouns or even more than one set of pronouns until a few years ago as an adult because I grew up in one of those kind of Christian homes (you know, where gay and trans people are the boogeyman). I had no idea that agender (which is how I feel most of the time) or genderfluid were terms to describe oneself with. And honestly, I'm not sure I'd wanted to learn it sooner because of the home I grew up in but I am so glad I know about them now because I know they're good terms to describe how I feel about my gender.

While I do still sometimes wish I had been born with a penis I don't always feel like a man. Nor do I always feel like a woman. Sometimes I'll feel like I'm one or the other but most of the time I'm just like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ when it comes to my gender.

Now as for the topic of dysphoria, I still get a little confused when it comes to the term but I'm pretty sure I feel it. I don't hate my boobs but I do get jealous that cis men can just walk around shirtless whenever and sometimes I do wish my chest was flat sometimes but honestly I couldn't care less whether they stay or go, but I still HATE having a vagina! Personally, if it were possible, I'd rather have no genitalia at all, and it makes me sad that my body has to have one or the other (or both but I don't think anyone has ever had surgery to have both??? I know people can be born with both though). My vagina causes me a lot of distress and I think I may someday end up getting surgery to have a penis instead. It's up to future me to figure that out and make the step though cause I'm not in a place safe enough to come out or have the surgery yet.

Now for my sexuality. I'm asexual. I know this as a fact because I'm not interested in people the same way most others are. I use the split attraction model but it still feels off sometimes when describing romantic attraction because I'm still unsure if I feel any form of attraction to real people. Right now I base my romantic attraction on fictional crushes and I've been attracted to characters of all genders. When it comes to real people I can say that I do find women and non-binary people more appealing than men, and in fiction I'm usually attracted to more men, so for now I go by Bi-romantic.

I also want to state that, yes, I am sex-repulsed, but it has nothing to do with me being asexual. Me being asexual just means that I don't feel sexual attraction. In fact sex-repulsion has nothing to do with asexuality at all. Plenty of people are repulsed by sex no matter who they are or aren't attracted to. Some lesbians are sex-repulsed, some bi people are, some gay men are, some pan people are, even some straight people are. Sex-repulsion has nothing to do with who you're attracted to it had to do with how you feel about sex and people can be sex-repulsed for a number of reasons.

For me, personally, I'm pretty sure mine has to do with dysphoria and how society depicts sex. When I found out about sex as a teen I was curious but ultimately decided that wasn't ever for me. When society tends to describe sex to people with vaginas they say that sex will hurt the first time and that it'll hurt sometimes after that but ultimately leads to pleasure. NO THANKS. I know now, after listening to people who have had it, that that isn't true. Sure it will hurt for some people (there's even a thing some people have where sex will always hurt I forgot the disease name though) but if you are doing it right there won't be any pain. Still, the damage is...kinda done with me. Me not wanting a vagina to begin with coupled with mainstream society's explanations on vaginal sex has made me deathly afraid of having anything in my vagina, I can't even use tampons, the thought of it nearly gives me a panic attack and I internally flipped out when my doctor suggested a pap smear (thankfully he said it was ultimately my decision to have or not have one since I'm not sexually active, though I do think I'm gonna try to because I know it's super important).

I also think that some abuse I've been through factors into my feelings towards sex but that's a whole other can of worms for different day.

And before I end this already too long post I'd like to bring up names. I have always hated the name my parents gave me but everytime I brought it up everyone was like "it's a pretty name though!" and fine if you think that whatever but it's never felt like MY name, it's never felt like ME. I don't mind the nickname that came from it (Liss) because it feels like a different name all together to me so I prefer when my family and other people use it over my full first name. I also really like the name Elias, or Lias for a nickname, they feel more natural to me and like they describe me (does that make sense???), and they make me feel like the person is actually referring to the real me so once I get the chance I'll probably change my legal name to Elias someday.

Anyway I'm gonna stop here because this became longer than I thought it'd be but I felt like I needed to get some of this out ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[conglomeresque-moved]

[[ Ummm some Max headcanons?? ]]

Max is an extremely passionate person and may even come off as a little hot-headed when it’s about a topic he’s interested in, despite him originally being adamant on proving to David that literally nobody cares and the world is full of uncaring fucks

Max cares. Max cares a-fucking-lot, actually. Max is nearly an empath, and it takes a lot for him to put up the wall he usually does. On rare occasions, he does let this wall down (and mostly ends up regretting it). 

See: S1 finale, he pushes David to near-breaking and immediately feels bad when he hears what David has to say. The whole “because someone fucking has to” really resonates with him and makes a lot more sense as opposed to just being obliviously happy and carefree.

Also see: S2 finale, Max feeling immediately bad for Space Kid when he thinks SK is in the same exact situation he is, despite openly loathing SK for what would be like months now?? And he doesn’t bring up his own shit either- he’s not trying to garner the same reaction, he just genuinely feels bad for Space Kid in a matter of seconds.

He’s almost relieved when he hears Space Kid does have family coming to Parent’s Day, despite being real pissed about it at the same time but he let his guard down for five seconds and it fucked him over. Guess he has to try harder to keep that fucking wall up

Max has spent a majority of his childhood being a fucking angry little kid, and despite having interests and a specific sense of humor, he feels he doesn’t have much of a personality under all that anger. His teenage years are EXTREMELY important to him because of this. He’s still Max The Asshole, but also he’s working so fucking hard on being better than he felt as a little kid

Max is dead-set on making a fucking person out of himself when he’s a teenager. With a personality and likes and dislikes and a unique sense of style and interests. Both his wardrobe and his bedroom (if he lets you in there) have a lot to say about this (mostly that he’s some weird amalgamation of vegan, activist, and punk who likes metaphysical objects and water fountains)

Separate post here I made about his wardrobe in particular (X) 

He is extremely allergic to mushrooms and will go into anaphylactic shock making physical contact with them.

Max is trans. He’s identified as a little boy since about the age of eight (though he’s leaned toward masculinity since he was just a small), but only came out to other people when Camp started this year- especially since he was starting out with brand new campers that wouldn’t have recognized him the year before. The only people who recognized him were David and Gwen and that issue was quickly resolved when David greeted him getting off the bus. 

David said, “Hello, _____!” And Max very plainly said, “No, I’m Max.” and that was that. 

Max initially started wearing that hoodie for rebellion purposes, but now he keeps it on because he feels a lot more comfortable covered up.

He went to an all-girls boarding school until the age of eight, when he begged his parents just to let him go to public school. He had to swear up and down that he could take care of himself while they were gone. They still hired a babysitter for him up until he was ten, but he’s never complained about it where they can hear because he’s mostly just glad to be out of the boarding school. They weren’t abusive to him at the school, but being surrounded by girls and constantly addressed as one is..... uncomfortable, to say the least. Dysphoria-inducing at the most.

Throughout his experience at boarding school, the activity his parents chose for him to do was piano lessons- he’s been playing the piano since about six years old and is actually pretty good. He just refuses to touch another fucking piano again out of spite. 

Since he’s been going to public school, he’s chosen a more gender-neutral mode of clothing, and doesn’t exactly have anything personalized to his tastes. This was mostly to escape from the feminine wardrobe while trying to fly under his parents’ radar at the same time.

He is interested in learning another instrument, and is in the process of learning off a ukulele David got him as a gift. He’s also quite talented with drums. Talented enough, in fact, that he’s in the drumline of his high school’s marching band when he’s older.

Max Has Depression (as well as anxiety, which is not as prominent). Severe depression, that he refuses to acknowledge because why would a little kid like him get depressed little kids don’t get depressed that shit’s for teenagers!!! He does eventually concede though, and is eventually prescribed MJ for them both. 

He is, however, diagnosed with insomnia. He was diagnosed with such after his parents had to be urged by his school’s nurse- he kept falling asleep in class and picking up twitchy little habits like drumming his fingers or rocking in his seat. He has sleep medication that doesn’t get sent to camp regularly nor that he takes regularly.

Max’s ears are pierced! They’ve been pierced since he was a baby, but he’s not nearly comfortable enough in his masculinity to wear earrings in them anymore. He feels better about it in his teens.

Max and his belief (or lack thereof) in the supernatural is a big part of his character. He’s a natural skeptic, so his world just got a little more fucked when he realized some of this stuff does, in fact, exist. He gets all weird and clams up when someone tries to talk about it with him. 

He eventually has two cats! 

One is a horrible, loud, obnoxious cat named Jackass. Jackass has a torn ear, half a tail, and a missing eye (which Max got him an eyepatch for). He was first adopted by Max after Max became a member of David’s household... David asked him several times if he was sure he wanted that particular cat. Max said yes. 

The other is a sleek black cat named Noir. He’s not sure if Noir is a boy or a girl, but Noir never gets into any trouble, so it’s fine. 

Max has a natural talent for knitting and can finish large projects quite quickly. He uses this to make money in his teens. 

He’s also quite a good writer- he currently has a notebook filled with all his more recent writings: diary-esque entries, rants, rambles, short stories, character ideas, poems, just about anything is crammed in his notebook. It’s kind of unorganized, but whatever.

Older Max’s sexual and romantic orientation is just “grey”. It’s constantly fluctuating; sometimes he’s attracted to feminine-oriented people, sometimes masculine, both, everything, and sometimes he’s just straight-up and utterly repulsed with sexual and/or romantic relationships. He tends to stay out of dating for this reason- he feels like he wouldn’t be able to find someone who wants to deal with when he needs to stay platonic. 

He has an extremely difficult time grasping whether or not his parents are abusive. Neglectful, yes, but he has a hard time making the connection that being neglectful is being abusive. Though on top of that, they’ve fed him mushrooms on accident (twice, on the rare occasions when they all sit down to dinner) and are emotionally manipulative. He feels guilty for existing and them having to work to “provide” for him when he’s eleven and can’t do anything for himself.*

*Despite him doing the majority of his own cooking (he’s pretty good!) and cleaning up after himself, as well as his own laundry.

Whether or not Max’s father is physically abusive is to be left vague.

Max has problems with seeing himself as anything other than a burden. While he doesn’t want to go back to his parents, he doesn’t know if he wants anyone he actually likes to take him in because a) that’s a lot to ask of someone and b) they don’t deserve the fact that he’ll probably make them just as miserable as he makes his parents.

Max fucking loves horror movies. For the most part they’re mostly just amusing, seeing as he doesn’t scare easily.

Max loves, loves, LOVES masculine compliments! Call him a handsome little boy and you’ll make his entire week.

Max turns out okay with actual parents and a big fucking family that loves him. End of story

[closetgremlin]

Blurting time. Long post ahead.

So I’ve wanted to go by another name irl for a bit now. Partially bc an irl friend and I share the same name, partially bc I’m nby (that’s one of the new abbreviations, right? Bc “nb” means “non-black,” which I’ve heard is offensive…? *shrug emoji*).

One name I’ve seriously been considering is the name I use here - Miro. Reasonings: I like it, I’ve got a personal connection to it, it feels nby to me (a “masculine” name in origin, though I used it for a feminine character, so the gendered-ness of the name sort of cancels out for me there). It’s a good name.

Although another name has popped up that I’m sort of considering, which is very different - Damien. Reasonings: it’s the name of my favorite character from The Bright Sessions podcast, it’s pretty opposite from my irl name, it’s rad and old-fashioned (sounds like a vampire name) and metal as fuck. Also justz a very very cool name that I like a lot in general.

A friend of mine once said that they felt like I could pull off “anything, pretty much (gender-wise)” (well, loosely; they actually said that they could see me using any sort of pronouns - he/him, they/them, she/her, etc. - because i look pretty androgynous, which I took as the highest form of compliment), so that sort of helps encourage the fuel for the name Damien a little bit.

And I’ll be honest - going by/wanting to go by a “masculine” name, wanting more “masculine” clothes/wanting to wear “guys jeans,” getting “guys haircuts”/short hairstyles… I know that presentation does not mean orientation, and yet… You know? And yet if I want to seem more “masculine,” if there’s all these feelings or wants pointed in that direction, then does that make me more transmasculine than transneutral?

…So there’s that thought process. There are those thoughts, those feelings, fueled by logic (if I want x things, perhaps I am x). But on the flip-side… the “genders” I most relate to are “feminine” and “neutral,” so to speak. A masculine gender? Don’t relate. I personally find no appeal in the label, I am utterly uninterested in it - I’d say that I’m neutral on it… but haha that’s the “gender” I relate to. I’m “neutral” in the sense of… I feel neither positive emotions nor negative emotions towards the label - I feel no joy or happiness from it, though it does not repulse me. I just… don’t care. Don’t relate. (I’ve been told that saying I “don’t care” about something is… well, it comes across as negative?? Like I have a negative view on it. But I don’t - it’s just neutral. I don’t care. Neither positive emotions or negative ones! Middle of the scale. Don’t care. That’s all…).

Lost my train of thought/plan for this post. Ok, let’s just review here for a second, bear with me here hang on…

I want to go by two different names, one more traditionally masculine vs one personally neutral. Logic-brain says that I might be a trans guy because of this masculine name and how I want to look, while emotions-brain says that I’m transneutral because of how I relate to the “genders” (gender energies? Gendergies. Perfect) of masculine/neutral/feminine. Gender is weird!

Yeah, I feel like there was something else but talking about the whole “don’t care” thing made it fly out the window. Oh well. Anyways, my point is - gender is weird. Am I a trans guy? I mean, I don’t think so. At least not right now, I’m not throwing out that possibility but I’m not identifying with it right now. Am I a girl/feminine? Not really, but I identify more with that than with masculine. I’m more fem-leaning neutral. By this logic, I’m probably demigirl, but I’m not as connected to that term. Anyways - Gender is weird! It’s weird Because sometimes it’s a battle (so to speak) between the logical part/s of your brain and the emotional part of your brain; in other words, going by definitions and external factors vs going by your gut and internal feelings. It’s confusing! And then there’s the factor of right now - me-5-years-ago didn’t think of herself as anything other than a girl, but me-now and me-lately is slowly identifying less and less as that! Granted, me-5-years-ago didn’t have the vocabulary for it and also didn’t question anything at all ever, while the more me-lately is more “out” or talks about gender more the more that “girl” doesn’t fit anymore (that’s too many “more’s” in a sentence). So who even knows about me-5-years-from-now, that’s a whole other person! They may be a whole other gender! Who’s to say! And like, I don’t even know if it’s a “whole new gender,” i think it’s more like me coming out of my shell with my gender and it’s all just a very slow process. I don’t know - it’s all weird; gender is weird! Is so weird.

[livebloggingmydescentintomadness]

I've thought a long time about asking you but I need to get this off my chest and you are such a positive and nice blog (I discovered your blog because of the fjw-tag and it helped me soo much you don't believe it!) so I just want to ask you some questions if that's okay? It's probably going to be very long sorry :( I read on your description that you're nonbinary amongst other things. I didn't know what that was so I read about it and I was like “hey.. that kind of.. fits?” and since then [1/4]

I'm kind of in a “crisis”. I'm a girl but never really identified with it. I'd read stuff somewhere like “be proud to be a woman” and be like “yeah no... I'm just a person?” - it always felt kind wrong but I thought I was just indifferent to this stuff. A friend of mine once said how it's fun that I wear a dress and heavy make up and the next day I'd wear a too huge shirt, jeans and worn boots. I thought that I need to “find my style” but it just never went away? Also sometimes I find [2/4]

feminine clothes repulsive and take my boyfriend shopping so I have an excuse to buy men's stuff. I also remember when I was young (4 or 5) I asked my parents when I'd get a penis like my brother, I just didn't get it. There are many more things but I don't want to bother you with my life story. I don't want to be a man but I don't want to be a woman either. It's kind of confusing because it just has always been part of me but now there's this word that kind of fits but also scares me? [3/4]

And now I'm so self-conscious. When I went out today I put on a plaid shirt but immediately thought “hey.. what are other people thinking about me right now?”. Soo... I don't really know what I want out of this post but maybe a little validation and your thoughts about it? I don't want to impose on anyone because I think that maybe my thoughts are not valid enough and I'm just “attention seeking” and not really anything out of the ordinary... it's just so weird. Thx for reading this!!! [4/4]

Hey there, sweetie! This is totally okay, and my policy is 100% that it’s a good thing to seek attention when you’re in need of it. There’s nothing wrong with seeking attention or needing validation, alright?

I completely understand what you feel. I’ve actually used those exact words - I’m not female or male, I’m just a person. I spent a really long time feeling like I was a “bad” girl, because I didn’t like feminine things and I never fit in with other girls, because calling myself a woman didn’t feel right,and  because I like masculine things - but mostly in the sense that wearing a men’s shirt and jeans makes me feel ‘neutral’, not like a man.

I tried to be feminine for a while after some well-meaning people put me through a “makeover” and put me in a skirt and pink sweater, but it was forced and I hated it. It didn’t feel right at all. I hate skirts, I hate showing cleavage, I hate impractical shoes, I hate wearing makeup, and I’m just not a fan of pink. I’ve always been a “tomboy”, and my mom has told me that it’s been a challenge my entire life to get me to wear a dress for fancy occasions. 

But even after I discovered the word ‘nonbinary’, it took me a while that this described what I’ve always felt, because I still feel most comfortable using she/her pronouns, not they/them or other neo-pronouns like ze/zir. I don’t feel as if I’m truly or completely female, but it’s sort of... a role that I’ve been cast in, a part I play, a suit that I wear. It’s as though I was assigned a female gender, but I don’t actually feel a connection to it, I don’t feel that it’s attached to who I am on the inside. I have some masculine tendencies, but I don’t feel that I’m a man either - I’m just me, and honestly I just want to be comfortable in the way I dress and present.

I know that when you’ve been treated as female and reacted to the world as female, the pressure to be attractive and “correctly feminine” is overwhelming, but I have to tell you that learning to say “fuck it” is the most freeing thing I ever did for myself. Let’s say someone looks at you and thinks you’re not feminine enough: So Fucking What? Is some random jackass’s offhand opinion more important than you feeling comfortable and true to yourself? Is even the opinion of someone close to you more important than that? Not really, because if someone truly loves you, they’ll love you however you look, and they’ll want you to be true to yourself.

Fuck patriarchal beauty standards. Fuck misogyny. Fuck the male gaze. Fuck cisheteronormativity. Fuck capitalism selling you insecurity. Fuck gender roles. Fuck what random people may or may not think about you. Be you, and don’t apologize for it, because why on earth should you apologize for just being who you are? You don’t owe anyone femininity or prettiness. You’re not obligated to fulfill the gender stereotypes pushed on you without your consent.

Wear whatever the hell you want, whether it’s a pink frilly dress or plaid and heavy boots. Put flowers in your hair or cut it all off, wear a full face of makeup or wear no makeup at all - it is entirely up to you and what makes you feel right. And every time that self-consciousness crops up, practice saying “Fuck it”. 

You’re not weird, but this isn’t how everybody feels - this is how nonbinary people feel. Welcome to the community.