#there are like two trans women i know that i met through someone else and 1 of them i literally just met and the other.......... based on

[snekdood]

saw a post yesterday that was like "if you dont have trans women as friends u gotta think about why that is" and i really had to restrain myself from saying "it goes both ways my friend!". if you dont have any trans men as friends, ya gotta think about why that is also!

[strangestcase]

I think one of my favorite (/derogatory) phenomena about transphobes is how parasocial they are re: bodies, but specially famous people’s bodies. I’m thinking of transphobic straight men and lesbians alike mourning Elliot Page’s transition because he doesn’t give them a boner anymore. Of TERFs throwing a hissy fit whenever Shen Comix posts eggy comics and viscerally hating Chappelle Roan because she fucked men before realizing she was a lesbian. Of Reddit dudebros being baffled and disgusted that the Matrix was created by two trans women, infused with both their closet and out of closet experiences as the franchise goes on. It’s very gross to see a person act so entitled to someone else’s appearance, anatomy, sexuality, and physicality, but when that someone else is a person they’ve never met, that they only know through the things they create, good or bad… it takes on a hilarious tint. This UNAVAILABLE PERSON is doing something I personally don’t like to with their life and I’m angry! Get a grip! Jack off to another photo!

[transman-badass]

A Meeting at the Sow's Ear - a Cthulhu Mythos Short Story

"Evening to you, too, Mr. O'Tipp," I said and I felt the tightness of my words on my tongue.  Nathan O'Tipp smiled wider. He looks like a fine man until he smiles. Looks like he should be wandering a Hollywood studio, him with his perfect fair skin and his nice suits. But when he smiles, it stretches too wide, and his eyes have got a shine to them that I've never seen anyone else have. Even when the darkness hides everything else, I see his eyes, almost the same shade as my own. No, there's not a drop of human or humanity in him. I hope he doesn't know I know. "Come out of the dark, Harbinger," he said. "Let me get a better look at you. You are such a treasure to me, I can't let anyone else break you."

Part of the Pharaoh Syndicate Investigations series - a reupload with some edits

CW: blood, discussions of homicide, Prohibition and all that implies, body horror, mild trans/homophobia early on,

Arkham, 1931

Overhead the stars walked the sky like restless strangers, and the fat moon lounged back and watched us all. But it’d missed the fun. Before sunset, I shot two people for the contents of a dirty old bag. Now I walked with that bag down the street to Dad's house. No idea who's Dad he is. He may give me an allowance, but he sure ain't no family of mine.

From five houses down I heard it, one of the favored songbirds singing like it was still 1926. Closer I got, the reason why I heard her became obvious - they’d opened half the windows on the Sow’s Ear. No point hiding it from the coppers anymore. The boss owned them too.

Part of the ‘contract’ with my old boss and the new one took my name. Like the new boss said, I didn't need it anymore. I liked that name. I chose that name. I still use it with one single person. But for everyone else, I'm the Harbinger. And that means I’m whoever the boss wants me to be.

He don't know about this, so don't let me catch you calling me shit like Gumshoe or Dick Dickless. I get enough of that bull from my coworkers. If you wanna call me anything, call me by my real name.

My name was Lazarus, once. I'm 23 years old, pretty sure. I was born a woman. Not long ago, I was an investigator at Keller and Queens Detective Agency. Now I serve a monster pretending to be human. I don't think he knows I know that. I hope he doesn’t know I know that.

There are two speakeasies in town, and until I got my new job, I'd never been to either of them. I was a good citizen once upon a time. One of the speakeasies is run by a cult. The other is a cult. I'll let you guess which one I go to. Only real difference is who's at the center of it anyway.

The Sow's Ear is the center of the boss's operations in a part of Arkham nice people like to forget about. Pretty sure he lives above it. So what? Times are hard. Not a bad place to live anyway. Cute little spot, two stories, looks like all the others in town. Customers come in through the back, employees in the front. Somebody put a sign up for the Women's Christian Temperance Movement by the front door years ago. Boss must've thought it was funny. Now it's as worn and dirty as everything else in the city.

Adds to the charm, I guess.

I got one solid knock in on the door before it cracked open, and two glaring eyes met my own.

"What's the password?" The man spat out.

This was the dumbest part of the whole thing. He knew who I was, and I knew who he was. But old Lyman didn't like me much, and he took every opportunity to try and screw me over.

With a huff, I let the words out.

"Kynyarle keh-urak ghottu."

No, I don't know what that means either.

Lyman stared at me. He pulled away from the door.

"Tell Mr. O'Tipp his dyke is back," he said to someone on the other side.

The door swung open. I caught a glimpse of Lyman's back vanishing into the bar. I ground my teeth. Some men take it real personal, when you don't stick between the lines. I told myself again, I'll get him back for all the shit he'd put me through.

But the bag.

I closed the door behind me, adjusted my sweaty grip on my cargo. The stairs sat right in front of the door. Up I went into the maw.

Always felt like the steps were gonna collapse under me, with how they creaked and groaned underfoot. I go up and down them least once a week, mostly more, but the old wood hated me like everybody else. Not a single fucking picture hung on the wall to distract me, either.

What I really hate? The fact it's on purpose. The fact the bastard didn't need any message sent saying I was here. The fact he had my footsteps memorized the very first day we met.

I won't let him get to me, I said to myself, I lied to myself.

At the top of the stairs he has a velvet curtain hiding his little home away from home. Expensive, purple, golden gild and soft under my tired hand. I lifted it aside and walked into the shadows waiting for me. Heard the music nice and loud now, a voice deep and sweet blessing my ears. Not from the hallway in front of me, that led to his office. It came from the right. From the balcony that overlooked the speakeasy below. 

Two golden cats in the antique Egyptian style stood by on either side of the entry. Framing the view, more purple curtains, held back by golden chains. Between them, looking out over the dancing, thriving crowd… him.

As I watched him, me in the shadows and him in the light, he looked over his shoulder at me, and smiled.

"My personal investigator returns," he said. He folded his arms behind his back, took a step forward as he turned all the way to face me. "Once again you've cheated death, haven't you?"

I set my jaw, didn't look down where his eyes settled on my body. Didn't have time to wash out the blood before I headed here. Didn't want to tell him how much of that blood was mine.

"Evening to you, too, Mr. O'Tipp," I said and I felt the tightness of my words on my tongue. 

Nathan O'Tipp smiled wider. He looks like a fine man until he smiles. Looks like he should be wandering a Hollywood studio, him with his perfect fair skin and his nice suits. But when he smiles, it stretches too wide, and his eyes have got a shine to them that I've never seen anyone else have. Even when the darkness hides everything else, I see his eyes, almost the same shade as my own. No, there's not a drop of human or humanity in him. I hope he doesn't know I know.

"Come out of the dark, Harbinger," he said. "Let me get a better look at you. You are such a treasure to me, I can't let anyone else break you."

I ground my teeth, but didn't hesitate. Oh, I knew from experience what happened if you hesitated. Over the music I heard my shoes click on the tile. I walked to him and watched his smile grow even wider.

"That's my boy," he said. His hand gestured to the view beyond his balcony. "What a lovely night, isn't it? Beautiful summer, with all her life and bounty, rejoicing in her brilliance as she has for centuries."

Over the railing, there lay a different world. A little softer, a little dimmer, the glitz and gems a touch tarnished, but still beautiful like the dresses on the ladies. People dancing and gambling and kissing and drinking, like the world wasn't dying slow beyond these walls. 

God, the people, it caught me dead even in that moment. More shades of skin filled the room than I had ever seen before coming to this city. I thought I was more sophisticated than people wanted to believe, when I left that miserable place. Thought I'd impress people with how much I knew even if I was from Alabama. But nothing like this existed back there. The police would rather burn the whole place down with everyone inside than let white and black blend together. I guess I thought the whole country was like that, whether I liked it or not.

But Arkham was different. Arkham was… better. It sure taught me a lot of lessons. Biggest one is, I don't know as much as I think.

"It is lovely, sir," I said. At the sound of the last word, my grip tightened on the bag.

In the light his eyes did not quite shine but something dark and cruel glowed through his expression.

"I do love how you call me that," he said. He said, like I had any choice but to do so. "It's so much better than your previous defiance."

He must have seen how I fought the rage down, how my fists shook and trembled the bag. He must have, I saw it in the dark twist of his smile.

I wasn't just a detective back at the old agency. I was in charge of the entire investigation into O'Tipp and his tricks. I hunted him, and he hunted me. So many nights I spent on him, staking out his territory, talking to witnesses, finding the clues that could unlock whatever terrible dirty secrets he held.

And I lost. I didn't even know it was a game, that I was never a threat to him, that he was enjoying the hunt. I lost and he won, he won me and my sister, too. Now I'm gonna be working for this bastard for the rest of my life.

And I know, he's going to enjoy every second of it.

Mr. O'Tipp gestured with a finger, guiding me away from the view below. I watched the muscles of his face tighten with hunger or anticipation as he looked at the bag in my hand.

"How much did it cost?" He stepped into the shadows, his long fingers tracing the dangling chains on the wall.

I looked away from him. O'Tipp didn't mean cash.

"Two." I mumbled the word. 

"Oh?" He glanced back at me. 

Details. He wanted details. I forced myself to inhale. 

"The first bled out, I think." I couldn't have saved the poor bastard even if I knew how. "Took a bullet to the chest." Took my bullet to the chest. "The other was guarding… It." Nausea curled inside my stomach. It. The thing in the bag. "I shot him in the back of the head. Like you told me to."

"Good boy," O'Tipp said, and the light cast a shadow on his face, like the skin were paper and the flesh were a mask. "Did you look into the bag?"

I closed my eyes. I couldn't force the memory down. How my fingers curled around the box-like shape within the burlap, only for my flesh to sink into something cold and beating like a pulse beneath them.

"No, sir," I said

"But you're sure it's the right thing?" 

I did not open my eyes. I could not handle the thought of seeing the smile I heard. I could not help but think that if I opened my eyes, the face looking at me would not be human anymore.

 "Very much so, sir."

"My dear Harbinger," O'Tipp said, "Where is your curiosity? Wouldn't you like to see what you've brought me?"

Now I opened my eyes, and they opened wider than I wanted them to.

"Definitely not, sir."

He stood in front of the door to his office, smiling at me. I looked at his eyes to fight the thought of too many teeth.

"A pity," O'Tipp said. "It would have been better for you if you'd been willing to… expand your knowledge of the world."

My stomach sank with understanding.

"But!" He beamed at me, like a father gazing proud at his offspring. "That makes it more fun for me. Come on then."

He opened the door. Numb, I followed.

A strange little otherworld, Nathan O'Tipp's office is. A little antique and ancient, a lot of books and papers. Globes on the shelves of bookcases stacked to the ceiling. Star charts papering the exposed walls. Nonsense maps full of nonsense places. The world beyond the window, hidden by the same curtains he used everywhere else, golden tacks pinning down the fabric so not a drop of sunlight could fall inside. Furniture in all types of wood, light, dark, painted, lacquered, raw. 

His empty desk waited for us.

I don't even remember when he took the bag from me. He rested it on the desk, and the fabric sunk way, way down. The same boxy shape, thick as my wrist, and yet the fabric darkened around the edges of it, wet.

O'Tipp breathed in, and exhaled a light chuckle.

He raised a hand, looked at me. With care, he removed the glove from each finger, one at a time, and let it drop to the floor. 

"Don't look away," he whispered, and I knew that was an order.

His hand rested on the flat surface of the bag, and sank down. The fabric and the thing beneath it shivered like disturbed water. 

My throat locked up. I did not look away.

"Yes," O'Tipp said, eyes locked on the bag. "You’re the real thing, aren't you?" He nodded his head, looked up at me, and I saw it exposed bare to me, the disconnect between what I knew of reality, and what he knew of it.

"Don't," I mumbled.

"I've been waiting years to find this," he said. "And it came into my grasp so easily. I did not even need to negotiate with their god to do it." O'Tipp leaned over the desk towards me. "Dagon will be furious to know I have this. This sick creation, somewhere between science and witchcraft - the creation of a mind as brilliant as our own beloved Keziah Mason!"

"Please let me leave," I thought, I mumbled.

"You are a miracle worker, you know that, boy? You are, undoubtedly, my favorite curse upon this tiny planet. And this book?"

His wet fingers gripped the cord on the bag. With one pull, the bag opened, releasing a smell I've never forgotten. 

"It’s mine now. Mine just as much as you and she are."

Without ceremony or care, O'Tipp snatched the bottom of the bag and upended it. Something green, or something black, something both and neither and iridescent tumbled down. It hit the wood with a crack like a breaking bone, the sick smack of flesh falling from a height it could not survive.

It gurgled like a drowning animal. Water, dark and grimy, bubbled from the open hole of the spine.

And the smell. That goddamn smell. Like the sea became as stagnant as still water. The copper rot of an untreated open wound. Seaweed and fish left dead in the sun and storm.

And my voice shook as I spoke, as I recognized the thing by its shape.

"A book?" I said. "That's it? It's a book?"

O'Tipp pulled his other glove off with his teeth and I could have imagined it but before he tossed it aside, I saw holes in the fabric. Barehanded, he ran his fingers over the cover, and it rippled under his touch.

"A grimoire," he said, stroking the dark, slick surface. "Written by a stranger in a land far more obscure than any on the surface." His smile, his smile, there was nothing I knew of sanity in that smile. He looked to me and his mouth stretched wider.

"Have you ever been to Innsmouth?" He said, and did not wait, because he already knew the answer. "Quaint town with too many secrets. It's up north from here. The whole place was claimed by a cult worshiping a god that lives in the sea, so they say, until the federal agents burned it all down. So they all say. So all you need to know right now.” He tilted his head, the smile staying still. “Look at you, you're so pale. Have you never seen a book before?"

I said nothing. He seemed to like that.

"If you care to believe me," he said, "this-" his fingers tapped the surface of the book, sending waves through the flesh. "Was made from the body of one of those cultists.” He chuckled at me. “Oh, please don't faint, you still have to walk home. Don't be upset." His voice lowered. "This isn't made from a human."

I shouldn't have said it, but I couldn't look away from it. From him.

"Then what is it made of?"

"A Deep One. Skin, cartilage, preserved flesh - no scales, did you notice?"

I shook my head. His expression dripped with sarcastic, amused pity.

"Don't worry, I'll spare you the bookbinding lesson. It's a gruesome thing, so I've heard. But I'll show you one more thing."

Please don't, I thought.

"It still drips with sea water, did you notice?" His hand traced over the lock. A flick of the fingers and without a key, it opened. "But look inside…"

I didn't want to. I did.

The pages, bone white, dark letters of a language I'd never seen before. Bone white pages. Bone dry pages.

"Fascinating, isn't it? What horrors lie in this book, do you think, in that language I have yet to teach you?”

O'Tipp slammed the book shut. I stumbled back, and he laughed.

"Go home, my precious detective," he said. "You've done a wonderful job today. No need to come in for a while. Keziah and I are going to be very busy with my new prize. Enjoy a break - I’ll find you when I need you.”

Despite the way my veins pounded, so loud in my ears I barely heard anything else, I answered him.

"I know, sir."

His gaze hungered. 

"Good boy."

I did not head home quickly. In fact, I did not leave the building quickly. No, I'll tell you the truth: I did not even go down the stairs for a good long while. I stepped from the office, the air chilling on my colorless face, and swayed. My body hit the wall. Somehow I did not fall despite the tremble in my legs, the sickness in my gut.

My eyes closed. I welcomed the dark, my mind not again showing me the hideous thing, the hideous, handsome man I served. The black swallowed me and I breathed in the air, ghosts of tobacco and perfume and alcohol wafting up from the floor below.

Again I thought of myself less than four months before, my bright eyes in the mirror, my determination throbbing within my soul. Again I thought of myself back then, and I thought, what nightmare was I hunting?

The office door opened.

“Oh! You’re still here!” O’Tipp said. “I was afraid I’d have to track you down.”

I did not want to do it. I opened my eyes and shifted towards him. His beaming smile, so paternal, churned my stomach anew.

“I almost forgot,” he said, stepping towards me. “Your allowance.”

His gloveless hand gripped my wrist, his other shoved something into my palm. Damp hands, hands far too warm for this night, far too warm for what he’d been handling.

“You’ve done excellent work today, my boy.” O’Tipp patted my cheek. “I’m proud of you.”

I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t have a choice but to speak.

“Thank you sir,” I whispered.

As his eyes narrowed and his smile darkened, I almost thought - I don’t know what I thought. But he said nothing more. He stepped away, his hand lingering on my skin, and that was the last thing I truly knew before his office door slammed shut.

I could have left then, when my legs recovered their strength. I could have fled, and run down the street, and never looked back. And yet within my disjointed soul, I understood something almost instinctive - I should not be alone right now, not after that.

My feet carried me to the balcony. I sat on the floor, and watched the people below.

To be part of society and yet apart from it. Yes, I knew that very well, as my cruel grandparents taught me, as I knew now as a different kind of man. A separation from humanity, a barrier put between me and anyone that could have, in another life, loved me. Yes, I understood that. Perhaps it helped me understand them.

How happy they all were, down there. How sweet the woman, a different one now, sang her songs of love and loss. How the people moved between tables, greeting friends. How they clinked their fancy drinks in fancier glasses together. 

A sample of humanity, together. All those colors of clothes and hair and skin, together. Like the world beyond did not exist, like there was not an even bigger nightmare lurking at the edges of the horrors we all pretended not to think about.

A Deep One. A living thing that was not human. Something below the surface of the ocean waves. A god. A cult - another damned cult, of course there would be. Could I not escape them? A small amount of distance allowed me to think of it more. So long as I did not picture the book, I could wonder about it. What was a Deep One? What kind of a life did a thing like that have? Did it have a family? Did it have friends? Did it feel love, as humans did?

Was it still alive, even as a book?

In my soul, I ached. Not for the dead, but for me, taken from my home just as the book was.

My gaze drifted, my thoughts eased to a crawl. Down there, down on the floor, I saw him. I did not truly understand what I saw, but I did, I saw him, and he saw me. I let myself blink, focus, in time to see his lips curl into a smile. Dark skin, red clothes, sharp eyes.

He knew me. I knew him. No one else might understand. No one else could understand, I think, that little jolt of electricity that surged within me. That little taste of… hope, perhaps. He knew me, he knew of me, I knew him, knew of him. That brilliant man with his glittering grin. We were both born women. We were both skilled in our fields despite our ages. We were both connected to this nightmare in ways others could not understand. 

I tilted my hat to him. He raised his glass to me.

As he disappeared into the crowd, I left.

The city struggled through the night, and the old blood had wrecked my vest. I buttoned up my jacket over it. I’d survived another mission, somehow, by that monster I am bound to serve. There’s a lot of ways to die in this town, and not all of them involve a bullet.

I was so tired of thinking about that. That money he gave me rested heavy in my pocket.

Little detour and then, to home I went. To the Witch House, where I’d lived since arriving in Arkham. O’Tipp bought it too, along with me. Sure enough, on that battered old porch, they waited for me. The old gate creaked as I shoved it open. A set of bright eyes behind round glasses looked up from the book she’d been reading aloud. Sadie, my partner in crime, my sister in soul, Sadie, jumped from her chair.

“Lazarus!” Her arms wrapped around me and I hugged her tight right back, and the grin that formed threatened to split my face in two. “You’re alright!”

Couldn’t help but laugh a little at that. 

“Well, mostly,” I said. 

On the porch, the other woman hadn’t moved, rocking back and forth in her chair. Her hands in her lap, her hair fallen past the bandages over her eyes, her focus all on me. She smiled, and I could taste the hope that radiated from her.

“I got a surprise for you guys,” I said, and reached into my pocket.

I can imagine what O’Tipp would say, spending so much of my allowance on candy like a child. But what did I care about his thoughts? It was more than a snack for my two favorite girls, it was an offering for their happiness. For my happiness. What was the point of going through this nightmare, if you couldn’t be happy every now and then?

Overhead the fat moon sat and watched it all. I settled into one of the chairs, let myself relax for the first time since the sun rose that morning. Soon, the others who lived in this ancient building would return, and we all could rest for the first time in hours. But underneath the sound of the summer night and my sister’s voice, I heard the pages turning.

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[drowninginredink]

How did it take me until April 3, 2024 to realize that Lemony Snicket is absolutely a trans woman and someone needs to get her some E, stat?

- Lemony is always, always, always hiding her face. Well... okay they cut it from Netflix, but in the books and movie, the most iconic thing about Lemony is that in every photograph, she's managed to hide her face. And yes, allegedly that's to hide her identity, but like... Is it? Or is that an excuse and really Lemony just does not like her face because it's too masculine? God knows most pre-transition folks hate being photographed

- Have you seen the way she talks about Beatrice? Have you read that letter from The Beatrice Letters? "Summer without you is as cold as winter. Winter without you is even colder," "I cherished, you perished, the world's been nightmarished," "When we first met, you were pretty and I was lonely. Now I am pretty lonely." Straight men do not write about women like that. Lesbians do. Especially that letter. Do you think that a straight man wrote "I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you next Tuesday" or "I will love you until the chances of us running into one another slip from skim to zero, and until your face is fogged by distant memory" or "I will love you if you don’t marry me. I will love you if you marry someone else – your co-star, perhaps, or Y., or even O., or anyone Z. through A., even R. although sadly I believe it will be quite some time before two women can be allowed to marry?" Absolutely not. Those are obviously the words of a lesbian.

- Pretty much everyone important in Lemony's life is a woman. All of the people closest to him: Beatrice, Kit, R, Moxie, and Ellington. Sure, he does interact with other people, but those are the 5 closest relationships indicated by the text. Obviously you can be a man with all female friends, but how many times has a "man" always gotten along better with women and ended up not being a man.

- The audiobooks are (mostly) read by Tim Curry, and we all know he plays a pretty famous transsexual

- Lemony strikes me as very self-sabotaging. Now, this is my own opinion. One could believe that all of the mess that Lemony is in is purely VFD's fault. Maybe VFD forced her to take the blame for Olaf's crimes and generally end up buried so deep in accusations that she had to fake her own death and go on the lam. However, I can see an absolutely self-hating Lemony who volunteered to take on the role that she did. Who chose to be the fall guy. And why would she hate herself so much? Dysphoria. A deeply dysphoric and closeted woman who figures that since she isn't happy with herself, she might as well be the one to have her life ruined by the schism. That way all the actually happy and good people don't need to have their potential ruined.

- Similarly, Lemony never actually jumps in to save the Baudelaires, merely writing about them from afar. She is, to put it bluntly, a coward. She tells herself she's doing something to help them, but won't intervene in the way they really need. Why not? Because she's so deep in self-loathing! Again, that could just be because of her failures in life, but like... What if she also hates herself because of repressed dysphoria?

- Lemony is just generally really, really, really, really sad. And look, I know I'm aromantic as hell, but do we really think that's *just* because she lost the love of his life? Or do we think maybe something else is making her that gloomy?

- Look I just really want Lemony to have a way to be happy. And there's no bringing Beatrice back. But. HRT? Sure. I bet there's HRT in the snicketverse. Why not? I take the reading that Beatrice and Bertrand had Violet at like 20, which makes Lemony only like 35. He's 35, and yet she's completely given up on life. She is just a shelll of a person. She doesn't actually interact with anyone and spends all her time researching terrible things that happen. She's too young to be resigned to misery. I want Lemony to have a way to be reborn and find some form of happiness again. Thus, I would like to blame some of her misery on living as a man, and propose that transition could save her.

- Again. Lemony hates pictures and doesn't like to show her face. Give her some FFS! Stat!

- Come on. Beatrice and Lemony are an iconic couple. You cannot tell me that if given the choice, you want them to be M/F when they could be F/F

Okay. I rest my case. Now to submit to @couldtransitionsaveher

[girlcockholmes]

I saw your tags on the non-binary poll, and I was curious about your thoughts/feelings towards non-binaryness and also being cis? Totally cool if you dont wanna go into it, I’m just curious. All the non-binary ppl I’ve met have been in/through trans spaces, and thus I’ve only really talked about non-binary gender stuff with non-binary ppl who also ID’d as trans, and I’ve always been curious about other non-binary ppl‘s perspectives on gender stuff cause it’s so different from my experiences and relationship/understanding of gender, ya know? I want to understand

no i actually really like that you asked!!!! i honestly loved seeing that poll and having it as an option in the first place so i knew i really wasnt the only one that felt this way lol. i have such complex gender feelings its hard for me to put into words like i literally contemplated if i was nb for like three years before being like um yeah i guess teehee. for me its basically like i dont really wanna be a man and dont wanna be androgynous and i dont even really feel like 100% a girl i just kinda exist as i do. prefacing this by saying i dont want to generalize anyone and that everyone has a different relationship to transness but for me trans implies some action, like you wish to change your name/pronouns/presentation and i dont feel any desire to do that (i know i just put cosmo as a name in my bio lol but even that i feel like ill take out bc even though i like some other names i cant imagine one i like more than what i was given lol). like humanity literally just made up a bunch of arbitrary shit to apply to the two predominant sexes like none of it feels REAL!!!! im kinda like we made up all this anyways so who give a shit…. i still identify mostly with being a woman but when straight girls say hey girl!! i want to die and i like a lot more masculine clothes and would loveeee to have a dick but also keep my boobs. i think honestly it just has a lot to do with me being bisexual like what led to me starting to think about my gender was like ‘my attraction to women feels gay but so does my attraction to men???’ the way i experience attraction is NOT the same as how my straight girl friends do plus i dont think i would feel a hundred percent comfortable dating a man if he wasnt lgbt in some way like i would want someone else with a complex attraction to gender bc i definitely dont want a cishet man to be like THIS IS MY GIRLY GIRLFRIEND. AND ONLY A GIRL. anyways i dont know if this makes any sense or is confusing as hell but tbh its confusing as hell to me too. MY GENDER IS BISEXUAL IDKKKKK!!!!!

[victorianpining]

Da fuck, the entire train scene is just a V for Vendetta reference?? I thought that was a 100% original scene?? I need a meta/video on this because I'm still a beginner TJLCita

All right, two requests is too tempting. Here we go:

V for Vendetta is a 2005 film, based on the Alan Moore graphic novel series of the same name which ran from 1982-1989.

The adapted screenplay was written by Lana and Lily Wachowski, who you may know from their work on The Matrix series and Sense8. Both are trans women. V for Vendetta is one of the few film adaptations I vastly prefer to the original. Alan Moore's work in general is a bit on the cynical side, which usually isn't for me. The main thing though is that Lana and Lily built on a few of the details present in the graphic novels to create a beautiful story about the nature of ideas and queer identity.

The novels do include the story of Valerie, a lesbian actress who is sent to a concentration camp for her sexuality. Her speech about identity and integrity, holding on to who you are even when it's all you have left, the very last inch of you, is included almost word for word in the film. To that they've added in Gordon, a man who runs a comedy TV show who Evey discovers is a closeted gay man. He talks about living so long wearing a mask that you begin to forget who you were underneath. Which of course ties into the film's main character, V. A man who wants to only exist as an idea, as a cause, but slowly becomes humanized through his relationship with Evey Hammond.

The film gets criticized for giving the story a more Hollywood structure, right down to adding in a romance between V and Evey and having the final train car scene be more climactic and hopeful than it is in the novel. The way they've adapted the story, there's this emphasis on coincidence (more accurately, the nonexistence of coincidence) and fate. I think the Wachowski's do an amazing job tying all the pieces together so that it feels like the ending is the way things must happen. The film opens with Evey wondering what it's like to love someone who everyone else mythologizes, and it ends with her stating that while everyone else will always remember V for what he represented, she will always remember him as a man. Those themes are all original to the film.

And I'm sure you can see the thematic parallels there, right? Sherlock Holmes is a character who has been adapted so many times that we almost take for granted that he is a character first and foremost, not just an archetype or a set of cultural signifiers. Sherlock, regardless of how you read it, is ultimately about who Sherlock and John really are as people. Lifting the mask, and all that.

The scenes Mark uses for The Empty Hearse are all from the film, not the novel. The emotional conversations near the train car bomb? Not really in the original. He specifically lifted from the version that was criticized for being too romantic. The version with the themes of identity, and the experience of being closeted, and the longing to really know someone who is apparently unknowable. Not to mention all of the fire and water imagery.

So, the train car scene. Sherlock comes back to London and finds John has apparently moved on, that he may have permanently ruined their relationship. To fix things he lets John think they're going to die, so he can give himself permission to say how he really feels. But like in the end of V for Vendetta, it's not enough. V confesses his love to Evey, who only reciprocates by saying she doesn't want V to die. John says Sherlock is the best man he knows, that he's forgiven, but he still seems to want Mary.

Unlike the film though, there's no other catharsis offered in this scene, there's no big shift that takes place here. The timer is left wavering between the days before and after Sherlock and John met, and the end of the episode is left feeling unresolved.

If Mark was deliberately referencing the film, that feels intentional. That there's an appointment in Sumatra that we're all still waiting for.

Or, you know, lazy writing and he just picked the closest climactic scene he could find without much thought. It’s just a coincidence.

[docholligay]

Tracer/Emily “on a scar”

Talk about stuff I've meant to write for ages, this moment is finally out in the world. ANYWAY THANK YOU 1600ish words, all of my OW universe is here.

Tracer kissed her shoulder.

It should have felt good. She wanted it to feel good. She was incredibly attracted to Tracer, who had been a perfect lady over the past few weeks. Tracer, who was handsome and charming and gallant, who had treated her to dinner and walks in the park and made her laugh with all her stories, brought her flowers and told her she looked wonderful in purple, who had never invited herself up even though her eyes clearly wanted to be invited up.

But instead, there was a sort of deep grim that lapped at the corner of her mind. Emily was not good with women. She wasn’t good with anyone really, over the age of six, she thought, quiet and shy and awkward, the way she’s been all of her life. She wanted this, and she was afraid of it. She was not a casual person. Sometimes she wished she were.

The hard part, for Emily, was knowing when to tell someone. When she had been younger, it had been easy to blame her being trans for every ounce of hesitation she felt in a public setting, for every stumble through a conversation, and every bad date where her calls were never returned. It some ways, it had made things easier, to know that there was an immutable reason for such things, but life is rarely so kind, and she had met so many other women like her who glittered and had full dance cards, who lived life loudly.

So her own hated timidness had to, at least in some capacity, be an organic consequence of being Emily McNair, rather than anything else. It was disappointing.

But because she was Emily McNair, and because she had no idea of what it meant to be casual, and because she, like the silly fool that she was, was dangerously close to being truly in love with Tracer, she had to tell her. She wanted to tell her. Because if she was going to love Tracer, she had to know that Tracer could love all of her, even her history.

She tried not to expect too much of people in that vein.

“Em?” Tracer pulled away from her, ‘Can’t ‘elp but notice you don’t seem particularly engaged. You,” she seemed disappointed, “you not want to?”

“Oh, Lena, I do, but it’s only..” She tucked her hair behind her ear, “I have to speak to you, first.”

Her eyes darted around the room. “What ‘ave I done? Or not done?”

“No, no, of course no. It’s only me.”

“Alright. All ears.”

Emily was sure there had to be a perfect way of doing this, but over the twenty odd years of her life, she had never quite found it. Words were, most people would agree, not Emily’s strong suit, and generally she was as content to listen to others talk as they were. The handful of times she had gotten far enough to want to tell someone, it had never come out the way she’d imagined, and as Tracer looked at her, she realized that new and better speech she kept planning wasn’t going to reveal itself this time either.

“I’m trans. I just--thought you should know, before.” She swallowed and looked off to the side, waiting.

Tracer rocked back on her heels and looked at Emily.

“Is that all? Doesn’t matter, I don’t care about that,” she stopped for a moment, “Sorry. You know,” she tilted her head quickly and leaned forward, trying to put herself back into Emily’s gaze, “it’s just now occurred to me why me Dad put it that way when I told ‘im I was gay, can’t really think of a better way to say it--suppose it didn’t urt that ‘e wasn’t the slightest bit surprised by the news--but wasn’t helpful to me then either.” She took Emily’s hand. “Thank you for telling me. I feel all the same about you as I did. I think you are absolutely beautiful, and I cannot believe me luck, sitting on the sofa with you. You ‘ave no reason to be shy with me. Still buzzing about being invited up, love.”

Emily let her shoulders relax a little. “I’m shy with everyone.”

“I ‘ope sincerely that it’s not that people ‘ave been cruel to you.”

“Not, I think I’m just a bit awkward, I mean,” Emily shook her head. “Most people haven’t known since I left school. But I don’t much,” she fiddled with the strap of her dress, “you know, see women.”

Tracer smiled. “Right. Let me show you something.”

She slipped her shirt off under her CA with a speed and grace Emily would not have guessed was possible, leaving only her CA and a sports bra. The first thing she noticed were the bright toucans on Tracer’s bra. The second thing she noticed was that Tracer was as spectacularly toned as she might have guessed given her quick strength, and she blushed.

The third thing she noticed were two deep and heavily puckered scars, right at the edge of her rib cage. Her eyes widened and she brought a hand to her mouth, without thinking, and then immediately realized Tracer must be seeing her, after being so kind to Emily, showing shock, and she might think it was disgust--

But Tracer gave that loud peal of a laugh that Emily loved so much. “I know! Terrible, innit? Man shot me.” She scowled a moment. “Thought ‘e was me friend, once upon a time, but ‘e did disabuse me of that notion, as Fareeha put it, you know, love, for all the times she pretends she doesn’t understand a bloody thing I’m saying she manages to put up quite the English vocabulary when it suits her, right? Right, absolute tosh--listen to me waffling on, me Dad always said I could talk for England--what I mean is, love, you ain’t the only one with a thing or two unusual. Say nothing about the machinery. I’m loads of things to get used to, right? So you and I are of a kind. Me more than you, even, ‘ave no doubt you look better with your clothes off than me, if you don’t mind me saying so, right? So you never need be shy with me, for I’ll always do me best. I ‘ave no doubt that I will say or do something unbelievably bloody stupid, and when that happens, I want you to say, ‘Lena, you bloody stupid cunt,” Emily laughed and shook her head, “--No love, I’m being very serious just now--Lena, don’t do that” and then I won’t.”

Emily looked at her. Tracer’s eyes were bright and sparkling, but full of sincerity. Even now, she had that little resting smile on her face that Emily had come to realize just sat there, as unhappiness did on others. There was something about Tracer that drew Emily in, that made her feel safe, and suddenly it felt true, that someone like Tracer could not mind. Suddenly it seemed silly to Emily that anyone had ever minded at all. She had so many explanations planned out, ways to make it okay for Tracer and assure her that there wasn’t much different about Emily, but it all seemed completely unnecessary in the moment.

She had been honest, when she said she didn’t care.

Emily reached her hand out and brushed her fingertips against the deep crater on Tracer’s stomach, and Tracer did not flinch away from her touch, even for a moment.

“It must have hurt terribly.”

Tracer shook her head. “You know, actually, I lost a great deal of blood very quickly, which doesn’t necessarily recommend itself but I will say made the pain a bit of a non-issue.” She laughed again. “Honestly, Winston’s more traumatized by it than I am, I only remember little bits of the thing. Lost some of me liver though, and I am sore about that, as I make quite a bit of use of it,” she looked down, “ as you can see by the fact that I lack a bit in the definition department.”

“You’re very handsome, Lena.” Emily said, still looking at the scar, unable to look Tracer in the eye when she said it.

“Well, you’re kind to say so.” Tracer put her hand on top of Emily’s. “I still am keen to root about the cabbages, so to speak, and I want you to know I won’t be put off so easily in future,” she grinned, “but if you’d rather not tonight, I understand that, as well.”

“Oh, but I don’t want you to go!”

Tracer took Emily by the shoulders. “I can stay then, love. ‘Appy to ‘ear it. Can stay all night, if you like. But we don’t ‘ave to do nothing.”

Emily leaned forward and put her head on Tracer’s shoulder, letting herself fall into her embrace. Tracer kissed her forehead.

“We can stay just like this, love.”

I love you, she wanted to say, I love you, and I feel excited and happy and utterly terrified at the fact. But, she reasoned, she had tripped over her own tongue enough for one evening, and in this moment, she thought she would have plenty of other chances. Tracer would stay. She kissed Tracer’s cheek and settled into her arms as Tracer laid back against the couch.

“You know, the scars aren’t even the worst of it, with me. ‘Ardware neither.”

“Oh?”

“Right, there’s the entirety of me personality to deal with, as well. Messy. Can’t pay attention to save me own life, sometimes quite literally, depending on who you ask. Touch of P--well, honestly, just ask Fareeha, when you meet her, she’s got a list of me negative qualities, I think. Probably alphabetized. Maybe categorical.”

Emily felt herself melt into Tracer and allowed herself the joy of a laugh.

The cool wind of October shook the trees outside, and litter blew along the street next to her shabby little London flat, and Emily had never been happier.

[thechangeling]

But you like her better: Part 2

Sorry it's been a minute! I hope you like it.

Cw: Some brief ableism, mentions of internalized biphobia, and self injurious stimming.

2013

It was raining when 16 year old María Machado Sotomayor first met Kit Herondale.

Marí had always loved the sound of the rain. It was peaceful and rhythmic, creating a nice tingly feeling in her skull running straight down her spine. It also good for the plants. Which meant that Marí arrived (on time for once) at her favorite class in a pretty good mood.

Marine biology was their one of their three special interests, the other two being lacrosse and Base guitar. So Bio was usually pretty fun for them. However this time was different.

Her mood was instantly dampened when she walked into class and saw someone new sitting in her usually seat. A blond, short and white kid who looked far too pretty for his own good. A new kid most likely.

A new kid who didn't realize that Marí always sat by the window every single day. It was their spot. Still Marí was determined not to overreact. They marched over to the new kid  and approached him with their best masking smile.

Remember eye contact. She told herself. Keep your tone light and breezy but not too lifeless. Smile. Appear friendly and non threatening. Try not to sweat. Try not to scream.

"Hi excuse me," Marí began in a sickly sweet tone. "That's actually my seat! Sorry!"

The boy instantly looked embarrassed and apologetic. "Oh I'm sorry!" He blushed. "I didn't realize there was assigned seating." He had an American accent, California maybe?

Wonderful. A white American boy. Just what they needed.

Marí chewed their lip and fought the urge to rock or tap. "There isn't actually," they admitted. "I just usually sit there. So can you please move?"

Now the new kid looked a little offended. A cold look settled over his face. "Well why should I?" He bristled. "This seat isn't really yours. It's not like it has your name on it."

Marí rolled her eyes in frustration. "I tried that already but then I got in trouble."

He stared at them curiously for a moment. Marí took the opportunity to break eye contact finally and scuff their heel against the floor. They were wearing the new black suede chunky heels with the gem stones that Marí had gotten when they went thrifting with their friends.

"María!" The harsh voice of her teacher snapped her back into reality. Everyone had arrived and taken their seats while she was arguing with the American and now everyone was staring at her. "Could you please explain why you are not seated young lady?" She snapped in her extra pretentious sounding posh English accent.

The one that said, "I'm better than you."

Marí tried not to growl at being called a young lady. They weren't feeling particularly female today. Not that Marí was going to bother explaining that to some old British hag.

"He won't get out of my seat!" Marí protested. Instantly laughter broke out around the classroom. Cruel mocking laughter that made Marí feel like her skin was crawling.

"It's ok!" The new kid cried out, practically jumping out of Marí's seat. "I'll move! I'll go sit over here." He grabbed his bag and moved to the back of the room as quickly as possible.

Marí smiled in spite of themself. His random act of kindness was surprising, but they were grateful. They took their seat near the window and sighed in relief.

Marí would always look back on that day with fondness no matter what. It may not have seemed like much to him, but it meant the world to her. After Bio class she had asked Kit to come eat with her and her friends. They had made their introductions and the rest was history.

They became close friends very quickly, bonding over movies and music. They sent each other playlists of their favorite songs and songs that reminded them of each other. Marí made Kit a queer playlist with songs by queer artists and told Kit that they were bisexual and a demigirl. They hadn't even told their friends that last part yet at that point.

Marí also told Kit that they liked to use she/they pronouns, but so far was only using them online. Kit asked Marí a lot of questions then confessed to Marí that he was also bisexual but he was still kinda getting used to it.

"I grew up in a shitty situation," Kit had told them. "I guess I still have a lot of shame."

Marí didn't hold it against him. She bought him queer literature and resources for queer history including "Bisexuality and Queer Theory" and her printed copy of the article published in the 90s called "The Bisexual Manifesto." She gave him advice on websites and people to follow online.

They also just talked. Talked about life and their experiences. Their feelings and their relationships with their sexualities. Bonding with another queer person was always special but spending time with Kit always made Marí feel so...light.

Despite how close they were getting, Marí didn't always want to touch him. They were touch averse in most cases unless they were very comfortable with someone. Sometimes it just depended on the day. On the days where Marí found they could not hug Kit they had invented their own way to show affection.

They would place a hand over their hearts and tap it, as if to say "I care about you" or "I love you." Sometimes Kit would say "tap my heart" as a substitute for actually doing it.

He introduced her to his close friend Janessa, the wayward vampire who was incredibly hot and kind of made Marí all nervous and tounge twisty at first. But as they got to know her, Marí realized that she was also incredibly kind, passionate and clearly cared at great deal about Kit. Janessa was a gamer who had named herself after a video game character. She drank cups of warm blood in novelty mugs with giant swirly sparkly straws and was pretty good at making people laugh.

Janessa, or Nessie as Kit had affectionately nicknamed her, was flirtatious and charismatic, but also brutal and deadly in a fight. She was full of surprises. And maybe, just maybe Marì was a little bit into that.

However as much as Marí didn't want to admit it, they were also were starting to realize that they were way more into someone else. Someone with perfect golden curls that Marí wanted to curl their fingers into.

Eventually Kit came out to Marí as genderfluid and requested that she use alternating he/they pronouns for them. They both made the decision to collectively tell their friends their pronouns. Marí, Kit and Nessie sat around her gorgeous leather couch and talked for hours about gender, identity and transness. Kit pointed put that they may never be able to fully explain their gender to the other two, just like Kit might have a hard time fully understanding Janessa's relationship with gender, or Marí's because everyone was different.

"It's personal Nessie," he had said. "Everyone has their own unique perspective on gender and every trans person has their own complicated feelings about gender and what their own gender identity means to them, and those feelings might not completely match up with another trans person's. But that's ok. You don't have to understand the other person but you do have to respect them."

Janessa's understanding of gender came from being a trans women. It was about a strict  binary with clear lines and rules. Rules that Kit was starting to make a habit of fingerpainting all over and Marí could tell that it was stressing her out.

And Marí had no idea where the hell they fit in these rules. They had stopped playing the game.

But those two loved each other more than anything, and Marí knew they could work anything out. And sure enough approximately seven hours and four margaritas later (only two for Marí,) they had come to an understanding.

2014

She kissed Kit for the first time a month into the new year.

They had been trying on clothes in Marí's room and Kit was wearing one of their old dresses that Marí thought they looked amazing in, but Kit wanted to give it away. It was dark navy blue and sparkly with spaghetti straps, coming to about mid thigh. There were cut outs on the sides, filled in with black sheer fabric, and it had a low v cut at the neckline which was also filled in with black sheer.

Kit had been infodumping about one of the Marvel movies again, Marí couldn't remember which one, and she had kept getting distracted by his tan smooth skin peaking through the sheer fabric and fullness of Kit's moving lips. He smiled excitedly and Marí had stepped forward and kissed him.

Their first thought was that Kit tasted like chocolate. Their second was that they should have done this months ago.

Kit had melted into the kiss, smiling slightly against her mouth and pulling her closer. They kissed her feverishly, sliding their tounge inside Marí's mouth and moaning when she deepened the kiss eagerly. They moved against each other with almost lazy, comfortable precision, kissing each other for what could have been hours or days or maybe only seconds.

Marí couldn't have said.

When Kit finally broke the kiss and pulled away from Marí, his eyes were practically gleaming with joy and love. And that was when they knew.

I love him.

2015

I love him.

Ty's words ran in her ears. Repeating over and over again, maddenly bouncing around inside of her skull until she was forced to utter out loud,

"I love him".

They whispered it under their breath but Marí could tell that both Alyssa and Ty had heard them. It was so quiet you could probably hear a pin drop.

But of course. Of course he does. It was obvious. This whole time Marí had noticed there was something wrong with Ty. Just like there was something wrong with Kit. The way they stared after each other when they thought the other one wasn't looking. The loving and worshipful glances mixed with the bitter glares.

Marí had already known that Kit was in love with Ty of course. But the way they had told the story made it seem like they were positive that Ty couldn't be in love with them.

But then again maybe that made sense. Given Kit's history and who he was. But then Marí couldn't help but think of Ty and how confused he must have been. God it was a giant mess.

Speaking of...

The room was still silent. Marí found that she couldn't read Ty's expression as he stared back at her flatly. But his body was shaking, his fingers fluttered at his sides. She wanted to soothe him.

They stepped forward carefully. "I'm not mad at you," Marí assured him. "I was hoping we could talk?"

Ty's left eye twitched. "We are talking," he pointed out. Alyssa snorted.

"Ty, they mean about the proverbial bomb you just dropped a few seconds ago," Alyssa said with a laugh.  Marí smirked to themself slightly.

It wasn't really a bomb. More like a flare.

She really needed to talk to Ty. The only problem was Alyssa had an annoying tendency to never leave his side. It wasn't like she had a problem with the girl. Of course not. But her presence meant that Marí hadn't had the opportunity to talk to Ty one on one.

They cleared their throat. "Alyssa could you please give Ty and I some space to talk?" They asked. Marí hoped they didn't sound too rude. Alyssa looked to Ty and he nodded slightly, signaling that he was ok with her leaving.

That was so strange to Marí. Their relationship. The way Alyssa, a werewolf who hated shadowhunters even more then Marí did, essentially took orders from him and clearly trusted him more than anyone else. But perhaps she wasn't one to judge.

After all, she loved Kit.

Alyssa left the room with a pat on Ty's back and a quick, "call if you need me." Marí shifted their weight back and forth as they rocked slightly from side to side as they waited for Ty to speak.

He stared back at her silently, most likely doing the same. Marí blew out a loud breath and forced herself to stay still, crossing her arms.

"Are you going to say something or should I?" Ty asked expectantly. Marí bit their lip and shrugged.

"I'm still thinking of what I wanna say," she admitted.

Ty smiled at her softly. "So am I."

There we go. Cracks in the armour.

"I'm sorry," Ty whispered suddenly. "I never meant to-"

"You don't have to apologize!" Marí blurted out. Whoops they had interrupted him. "Oh shit sorry you were still talking!" They reached for their hair nervously and realized that they were wearing that Morticia wig for their costume.

Great. Marí moved on to chewing on her knuckles.

"It's ok," Ty reassured her. "I don't really know where I was going with that sentence. And you shouldn't do that." He pointed to her hand.

Marí scoffed, "yeah well you shouldn't dig your nails into your palms." He glared at them and they laughed.

"Not so fun playing a game of Mirror Image is it?" They teased. Ty didn't respond, just stared at Marí solemnly.

"You know I really admire you," he said, aiming his gaze close enough to hers to create the illusion of eye contact. "I always have. I never wanted to hurt or upset you."

Marí wished for a brief moment that they could touch him and then shrugged the impulse off. "I know love," they cooed. "Me too."

Without really understanding why, she pressed her hand to her chest directly above her heart and tapped, just like how she did with Kit. Ty studied Marí for a moment and then followed suite.

Marí in spite of themself, actually felt bad for him. They could clearly see the toll the last three years had taken on him, specifically the last few weeks. Maybe his family couldn't see it, and they definitely knew that Kit couldn't, but Marí could.

Marí of all people could see past the mask because they knew what masking looked like. It wasn't just about appearing normal, whatever that word meant. It was about hiding your feelings. Taking that heart you wore on your sleeve and locking it up tight. But everytime Marí looked at Ty, they could see it. And it was bleeding.

Ripped and bloody and broken, just like her own and yet they both still had the sheer audacity to keep breathing. Marí was proud of them both.

"You need to talk to him," Marí prompted. "You both need to be honest with each other."

Ty furrowed his brow. "Honest? About what? He doesn't feel the same way." He had gone back to flicking his fingers as he stared at her, looking puzzled.

Bloody hell between the two of them, Kit and Ty were giving Marí the mother of all headaches.

They took a deep breath. "Yes they do Ty," Marí tried not to sound exasperated. "Kit is in love with you, believe me. They told me."

It hurt Marí's heart to have to say it, but it was true and Ty deserved to know the truth. And they knew deep down that Kit wouldn't really be happy, he wouldn't be Kit until he had Ty. And Marí had to make their peace with that.

Ty looked understandably confused. He ran a frantic hand through his hair. "But why are you telling me this? Why are you helping me?" He asked. "Don't you love them?"

She fought the urge to cry as tears gathered in her eyes. She found herself digging her nails into her palms despite chastising Ty for doing it a few minutes ago.

"I'm telling you all of this because I love them" she cried desperately. "Because Kit cries out your name in his sleep Ty! Because everytime he sees you, he stares at you like you are the moon the sun and the stars! Because everytime you speak they hang onto absolutely every word, and when you laugh-" Marí cut herself off.

They squeezed their eyes shut and took deep long breaths. Ty said nothing. Marí opened their eyes to see Ty staring at them in dismay. He looked like he was trying to think of what to say to help.

Marí shook their head. "I know Kit loves me. And they probably always will. We were close friends even before we started dating." Marí groaned and shook out their entire body this time, jumping up and down a few times as well to get rid of the tension. If Ty thought this was weird he didn't comment on it.

Marí wiped her eyes carefully trying not to smudge her mascara. "But you Ty?" His eyes refocused on her again at the sound of his name. Marí chuckled humourlessly. "Fucking hell, he is in love with you. And right now he is thinking that you hate him and I know it's tearing him up inside."

Ty stared at Marí hopelessly, looking overwhelmed and exhausted. "So what do I do then? What am I supposed to say?"

Marí shrugged. "I can't help you with that I'm sorry. It has to come from you." Ty looked even more panicked.

They gave him what they hoped was an encouraging smile. "Don't be scared Ty," they murmered. "It's Kit remember. They're not scary. You have nothing to worry about."

Ty didn't answer her. He had wrapped his arms around his body, squeezing tightly. "Marí do you remember those dead moon jellyfish we buried on the beach?" He asked.

She was a little confused as to why he was bringing this up now. "Yeah? Why?"

"That's what I feel like right now," Ty admitted. "Like I've washed up on the beach and now I'm just waiting for someone to come along and step on me."

Marí's heart sank. "Oh Ty," they breathed. "I promise that won't happen with Kit. I can't make any promises for anyone else, but I do know that Kit has absolutely no intention of hurting you again love."

Ty looked pensive. Marí could only hope that Ty would make the decision to trust them.

With a sudden jolt Marí remembered the party.

"Hey we still have the Halloween party to go to," she said, shaking Ty out of his stupor. "Do you still wanna go?"

To their surprise, Ty nodded. "Sure. I think Alyssa might kill me if I back out now."

Marí snorted. Alyssa Reyes could be pretty terrifying at times.

With surprise Marí found that their spirts were lighter having cleared the air with Ty and with the prospect of a party being renewed.

She smiled. "All right then let's head out!" Marí smoothed down the long black wig over her shoulders and quickly smoothed out the long skirt of her black slinky dress before turning and exiting the training room.

She knew that she would have to talk to Kit at some point and that conversation would be brutal. But at least they could have one last night together.

It's better this way. Marí told themself as they walked back towards the main living room where everyone was gathered.  At least now Kit can be happy.

It's for the best.

It has to be.

So I'm actually planning on writing a part 3 from Kit's pov because the drama isn't over yet! 😏

Tag list: lmk if you wanna be added/removed.

@playwithravenclaw @lavender-scented-rat @jazzkaurtheglorious @waterlillies   @nott-the-best @stxr-thxif @magnus-the-fabulous-entp-bane @foxglove-airmid @littlx-songbxrd @clarys-heosphoros @queenlilith43 @arangiajoan @hardlymatters @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @tired-vin @phoenix-and-dragon @the-blackdale @adoravel-fenomeno @the-wckd-powers

[literary-corvid]

I have been trying to find the right words since the minute Ky posted and gave me the green light to add on to it, but I keep coming up empty. My friends are rubbing off on me, though, because I can hear @firefliesandfuckery’s voice saying “fuck it, we ball.” So here’s an attempt.

I am very firmly Not A Woman.

But sometimes this keeps me up at night: what if the only reason for that is that I don’t want to face the societal pressures of being a woman? What if I’m just taking the easy way out?

And yes, I know that’s TERF rhetoric, and I know it’s fucking stupid, but there’s that nagging little voice of self doubt that challenges my trans joy. And logically, I know that existing as a trans person isn’t easy. And I know that I don’t particularly pass, if there is such a thing for being genderqueer/non-binary. So I still get pushed into that little box labeled “female” in public.

But I’ve never liked it. I mean, I’m sure even cis women don’t like the implications of it. But one of my earliest memories is insisting to my mother that I could go to Pre-K without a coat in the dead of winter because I didn’t want to wear a pink puffer. I rejected all things pink very quickly. I refused to be interested in makeup, denying it, lying through my teeth even when I was caught wearing it in 3rd grade (“I don’t know how that eye shadow got there!”) (do you remember those little kid makeup pallets that you could get at the dollar store? We had some as emergency gifts, so I hid one under my bed for months). So I hid away the Barbies and Polly Pockets my sibling and I shared. I refused to listen to Taylor Swift or Miley Cyrus or Britney Spears. I did not wear jewelry, dismissed the notion of piercings, scorned at painted nails. I pushed down my own indignancy when my classmates kicked and stomped on flower beds.

To put it simply, I hated femininity. I hated being a girl. I hated being seen as female.

But I’ve been on this project of learning myself, recently. Trying to become self aware and all that.

I still can’t wear a dress - or even a skirt - in public. Hell, not even in my own room in years, actually, but there’s still some tucked away in my closet. I want to, someday, maybe.

But I never go out without a watch on my right wrist (even though I’m right handed) and the plain black band around my ring finger (because it didn’t fit my middle) and a fidget ring around my pinky, also on my right hand. Usually, at least one of three necklaces are added. Sometimes, the bracelet matching one of the rings goes on my left wrist, in addition to the two hair ties there - one for me, one in case someone else needs it.

I’m not particularly fond of most shades of pink, but there are some that I love. I don’t own makeup, but I want to learn it. Instead, I have far more bottles of nail polish than are reasonable situated on the top row of my bookshelf. More than one are pink and sparkly.

I’ve been putting together a playlist, recently, of my favorite nostalgic songs. Most of them are the ones my parents played me: Brown Eyed Girl and Don’t Stop Believin’ and American Pie and everything The Who and the Beatles and Queen and Styx and The Beach Boys.

But I’ve been catching up on what I’ve missed, too. Coldplay and One Direction and Carly Rae Jepsen all have some actual bangers. Call Me Maybe makes me giggle every time it comes on (come on, you’re going to tell me “before you came into my life, I missed you so bad” isn’t one of the most relatable things ever?!). I’ve learned I don’t actually care about Taylor Swift - she has a few good ones, but mostly I’m ambivalent. Furthermore, I've learned that this is a hot take.

When I’m in charge of road trip playlists, my friends laugh because they know as much as I love the likes of Lil Nas X and Janelle Monáe, I’ll be playing the songs I know they were listening to when we met; when we were never far apart. The few rare ones - Fight Song and Demons and Pompeii - I shout the words alongside them 'till we laugh too hard to speak. The other ones I’ll play, and I’ll listen, and it’s almost like I get to do it again. Like I get to go back love my friends in their own language. Like I get to have loved myself the whole time.

I’m not a woman. I’m not always confident in the why, but I don’t really think it matters. Actually, I'd fist-fight anyone who asked a friend why they're trans, so it definitely doesn't. I’m happy where I am - at least, I’m learning to be. But I’ve learned that I don’t have to denounce my history and continued, albeit strange relationship to womanhood; I don’t have to close off femininity.

I am not a woman, but I have been a girl, and she did nothing wrong. As much as I know who I am now was lost in her, I can still love her all the same.

I'm proud of her.

...I hope that she's proud of me, too.

I wish I could tell younger me that she would love being a woman when she's older.

Sure, periods are still going to suck. The physical pain of your sex won't go away. You'll still fear every man you meet, and you'll always be looking over your shoulder when you walk on the street. You never stopped feeling that intimidation that comes with entering a room full of men, because yes, you're still a little hellfire determined to make her own in a male dominated field.

But you'll embrace your femininity. You like wearing makeup now, something you scoffed until you had graduated high school. You learn that women are not your competitors, but your only friends in many aspects of life. You'll still be boyish, but now it's done with a touch of lip gloss and bows in your hair.

You're still a force to be reckoned with, even moreso now that you aren't forcing down any part of who you are. You love being a woman. You even adored the Barbie movie.

You're a beautiful woman, and I'm so proud of you.

[bowie-boy]

Favorite LGBT+ headcanons for X-Files characters? Mine is that pretty much every main F.B.I. agent(including Krycek) is either bisexual or asexual(or both)! :)

This has been in my inbox for months and I keep forgetting about it I’m so sorry but TODAY IS THE DAY!!!! Happy TDOV Fox and @himbo-mulder (this is my response to your ask too)

LGBTQ X-Files Headcanons Because Someone Asked

Fox Mulder:

Bi and trans icon

The first person he told was Samantha

She accepted him immediately as her big brother and told him he should name himself Fox (it was her favorite animal at the time)

He was going to make his name William Mulder Jr. up until she disappeared, in which he actually decided to make his first name Fox (he misses her 🥺)

Came out to his parents sometime in high school, both took it badly

Bill was hella transphobic—he was already pretty shitty to Mulder but this added a whole new layer to it

Teena was more passive aggressive about it but still made withering comments about how she “lost two daughters now”

Some high school friends (*chants* PHOEBE AND GIMBLE PHOEBE AND GIMBLE) helped Mulder start T and change his legal name on government documents before he left for Oxford

Mulder wanted to go stealth while he was there but came out to Phoebe

When they broke up, she outed him to everyone

Things got so bad that he almost dropped out

Mulder joined the FBI, excited at the prospect of knowing no one and being able to go exclusively by his last name

He was somewhat happy of his solitude in the basement—no one really looked into him past his spooky nature, so no one could find out he was trans

Since Samantha, Scully was the first person who was truly accepting of who he really was

Got top surgery sometime before Colony

Definitely fell in love with Scully right after reading her profile skrjnwkdjwka

Mulder and Krycek were definitely an item for a hot sec until Krycek went evil

Mulder is 500% faithful to Scully but kinda had a crush on Doggett for a little bit

Mulder just wants to be a better dad than Bill 🥺🥺🥺

Mulder helped Byers realize he was trans!!! More on that later though

Dana Scully:

A bi queen

Definitely experimented in college and had a couple girlfriends there and through med school

Ending up breaking up with a girl she was really close with because Scully’s job was just putting too much strain on their relationship

It was really hard on her and made her swear off serious relationships for a long time

She thought Mulder was adorable from the moment she saw him but was really scared of actually developing feelings for him so she pushed it down

And kept pushing it down until she finally realized Mulder was never going to hurt her and actually let him in

I’m just ranting about MSR now oops

100% faithful to Mulder but thought Reyes was super hot

Scully is just a distinguished bi idk what else to say

Walter Skinner:

You can’t adopt THAT MANY LGBT agents if you’re not LGBT yourself, right?

Definitely bisexual

Grew up in a really conservative family and didn’t even consider it an option until he moved out

Skinner was attracted to a lot of guys in his squad in Vietnam but he thought it was just because there were no women around

(Spoiler alert: it wasn’t)

Skinner fell in love with John “Kitten” James and he fell hard

Absolutely did everything possible to protect that man

He was terrified of his feelings though and pushed them down, eventually starting to resent his best friend for making him feel things he couldn’t understand

When Kitten got infected by that gas, Skinner put his values over the man he loved, not just because he thought it was the right thing to do, but because he was terrified that he might be bi

He has regretted it ever since

Married his wife after the war and had a pretty good relationship until he became too consumed with his work

Their breakup was really hard on him and he delved even more into his work

Sometime after Avatar (maybe by season 5 or 6), Skinner meets a really lovely man and that man becomes his boyfriend

It’s really hard at first, but the guy helps Skinner to open up and allow himself to be okay with who he really is

They make time for each other outside of work and are really happy together!

Skinner’s boyfriend is 100% okay with the fact that Skinner has basically adopted all these agents

Skinner is everyone’s dad!!! No exceptions

John Byers:

Trans man!!!!

Discovered it pretty late in life, like he knew earlier but he Repressed it

First person he ever came out to was Mulder (as in my fic 😌)

Lots of internalized transphobia in this man but Mulder and the Lone Gunmen really helped him break out of that

Langly and Frohike obviously went with him to get his first T shot and chanted “MAN JUICE” while it happened (scaring a lot of the nurses)

Met Susanne before he transitioned so seeing her again in Three of a Kind was a little terrifying for him

She accepts him though and is a bi icon herself

Byers wears suits so much because they make him feel really validated

Ringo Langly:

Non-binary and gay!! Langly uses any pronouns (gonna stick to he/him for this list to keep things simple though)

Grew up pretty unaware about gender as a whole, just living his life

Moving away from home to a city was huge for him, he started going to gay bars and really realized that he was gay

Eventually started to experiment with his gender, using different pronouns etc., and found out he was non-binary!

Came out to Frohike shortly after learning Frohike was bi (more on that later)

Goes by Ringo because it’s somewhat gender neutral

He isn’t dysphoric very often but when he is it’s very hard for him to cope, Byers and Frohike are always there to support him and help however possible though

Langly gets way more dates than Frohike and loves to brag about it

Melvin Frohike:

We stan one funky little bi king

HE WAS AT STONEWALL I’LL DIE ON THIS HILL

Frohike had a mega crush on Mulder when he first met him and it persisted all the way until he met Scully

And then when he met Doggett he crushed on him too

Frohike is just kind of a hopeless romantic okay I love him

Absolutely bonds with Scully and they always debate which celebrity is hotter while they get more and more drunk

John Doggett

GAY MAN

Doggett was really repressed for a lot of his life, not because he thought his family would hate him for being gay but mostly because of his environment

(He was a drama kid though)

The military REALLY repressed him and thoroughly fucked him up

It wasn’t until he met Reyes that he started to accept himself more

At first Reyes being a lesbian totally freaked him out and he was really upset, leading to a huge strain on their friendship, but one night he broke down and told her he was pretty sure he was gay

Reyes really helped him through everything, especially his divorce from his wife and the loss of his son

Doggett eventually came out to his dad, who was super accepting

It took Doggett a long time to be comfortable enough to date but he started and met a really great guy, one who he’s now married to

One day he mentioned his boyfriend in passing and the rest of the Spooky Squad totally flipped out because they had no idea he was gay

Doggett just straight-faced “I didn’t think it was relevant?”

Sings musical theater songs in the office when no one else is there

Monica Reyes:

A lesbian

There isn’t a straight bone in her body have you SEEN her???

Absolutely crushed on Scully for the longest time at first, totally backed off when she realized she was involved with Mulder

Total mlm/wlw solidarity with Doggett

Reyes is super comfortable with her sexuality

I’m convinced that she’s married and she and her wife live in the same neighborhood as Doggett and his husband

Running out of brain power at this point but I just love her so much??? Mwah

Alex Krycek:

Gay rat

Everything he did against Mulder and Scully was fueled by spite at his ex-boyfriend Mulder

Daddy issues

Sometimes he breaks into TLG’s base and vibes with them for a few days

Rat (affectionate)

Deep Throat:

Gay :)

Bonus: Melissa Scully is a trans lesbian and Samantha Mulder is bisexual and they’re dating

[rosiegeee]

My Opinion On Loki Ships (Updated)

After episode 4 some serious updates needed to be made, plus I left one out and learned of another since them so they will be included. Original post under the cut.

I do not feel ok with shipping Sylvie with Loki, I know I ship clones together and AU Sans’ together, but I do not feel comfortable shipping these two and really want them to develop a sibling bond. (Unrelated Sylvie is totally trans in my mind) The reason being that they should not be a couple, other than the fact that they are genetically the same person, is that the mcu is overflowing with heterosexual couples, and to say “instead of giving this canonically bi character a male love interest or no one at all, we are going to pair him off with the only female character he has spent more than five minutes with, she just happens to be himself. We are that homophobic that we would prefer clonecest and selfsest over an lgbt relationship.” I know episode 4 made it abondantly clear that at the very least Loki has romantic feelings for Sylvie, but please oh please do not let those feelings be mutual because that would quite literally ruin this great show for me.

I can not believe I am saying this but I actually have hope that Mobius and Loki may actually become canon. I am a big shipper, but I am logical. I knew that johnlock, stucky, and supercorp would never become canon because in both the shows/movies themselves, and the creators on twitter/interviews never ever said that those characters were gay, and most of the characters weren’t lgbtq+ in there source material, so no matter how much chemistry were between those characters I knew it wouldn’t happen. But to my amazing joy the mcu has done the unthinkable and actually out loud in there show said Loki likes both men and women (meaning he could be bi, pan, omni, or something else but the main point is he isn’t straight) so if they were willing to say this out loud in there show without any confusion on what Loki meant, then in my mind it is now actually possible that they would be willing to take it a step further and take those soft moments from episode 2 and 4 with Mobius and expand it into something canonically romantic. I won’t get my hopes up as that hurt me with both elsamaren, Luca x Alberto, and stormpilot, and after the horrors of the near canon Lokvie from episode 4, I would genuinely settle with Loki just flirting with both some male and female security for whatever reason, but if it actually happens it will be a day of great celebration and I might just explode. So here's to the future and exploration of Bi Loki! 💗🧡💛💚💙💜     💗💜💙    💗💛💙 Also Mobius was willing to risk his entire existence for someone he barely knows and knows is a lyer, that combined with the surprising amount of time they’ve made physical contact and there sweet dialogue with each other, I can real see this happening.  ps (Owen Wilson has also already played one character that turned out to be canonically in love with a black haired male royalty before, he can do it again.)

Ok, don’t hate me, but I am actually a Loki x Valkyrie fan. Despite there only interactions being insulting one another and her beating the shit out of him, I really enjoy the thought of them being a couple. They are both tramitized bisexuals who at the time of there interactions felt alone in the galaxy and only wanted the grandmasters favour to benefit them in the future, but both realize that there is more to life then scheming and booze and decide to help save there people. I also just really enjoy the fanart. The only problem is reality has changed and our current Loki has never even met Valkyrie but even if they do they will no longer have most of the above in common. But you know Tom’s Loki isn’t the only Loki anymore and you know what that means.

Sylvie x Valkyrie should 100% be canon in the future. The two are both bi woman who have survived horrible tragedies against all odds and have been fighting to survive ever since, both have claims to there respective Asgards, both are great with swords, and lets just be real homophobic companies are far more likely to let a lesbian relationship go through than a gay one. Also from episode 4 we have confirmation that Sylvie has an admiration for Valkyries, so getting to meet one she may very quickly develop a crush. So I hope that is Sylvie survives this show that she is in Thor love and Thunder and meets Valkyrie.

1) (This is short) I do not feel ok with shipping Sylvie with Loki, I know I ship clones together and au sans together, but I do not feel comfortable shipping these two and really want them to develop a sibling bond. (Unrelated Sylvie is totally trans in my mind)

2) (This is long) I can not believe I am saying this but I actually have hope that Mobius and Loki may actually become canon. I am a big shipper, but I am logical. I knew that johnlock, stucky, and supercorp would never become canon because in both the shows/movies themselves, and the creators on twitter/interviews never ever said that those characters were gay, and most of the characters weren’t lgbtq+ in there source material, so no matter how much chemistry were between those characters I knew it wouldn’t happen. But to my amazing joy today mcu has done the unthinkable and actually out loud in there show said Loki likes both men and women (meaning he could be bi, pan, omni, or something else but the main point is he isn’t straight) so if they were willing to say this out loud in there show without any confusion on what Loki meant, then in my mind it is now actually possible that they would be willing to take it a step further and take those soft moments from episode 2 with Mobius and expand it into something canonically romantic. I won’t get my hopes up as that hurt me with both elsamaren, Luca x Alberto, and stormpilot, I would genuinely settle with Loki just flirting with both some male and female security for whatever reason, but if it actually happens it will be a day of great celebration and I might just explore. So here's to the future and exploration of Bi Loki!    💗🧡💛💚💙💜     💗💜💙    💗💛💙  ps (Owen Wilson has also already played one character that turned out to be canonically in love with a black haired male royalty before, he can do it again.)

[softtransbf]

Mister Nice Guy, part 1

Summary: You’re new to the BAU and get along well with everyone, almost. You can’t figure out why the infuriatingly handsome Dr. Spencer Reid seems to hate you so much.

Word Count: 2222

Reader: Trans man, he/him pronouns, no physical description.

Warnings: Alcohol, brief description of a case and therefore murder. Nothing graphic.

(Part two)

~~~~~~~~~~

It was your first day at the BAU, and you were so excited. It took all of your willpower not to skip from the elevator to your new boss' office. You definitely caught a sideways glance from an incredibly handsome man with very expressive eyebrows, but you didn't let it concern you; you'd worked too damn hard for too damn long to let anyone bring you down today. You got to the door and knocked sharply. 

"Agent L/N, please, come in," came a voice from inside the room. You took a deep breath and walked through the door.

You'd heard stories about Aaron Hotchner and the BAU- everyone had. Most people only heard the good parts- the heroic tales, the happy endings. But you liked to be prepared, to know the truth of what you were going after, so you'd also paid attention to the quieter whispers. The imposing boss who never smiles, the weird and maybe-pseudo-sexual relationship between the exuberant tech analyst and one of the profilers, the betting pool on whether or not the two female profilers were secretly gay for each other, true crime writer extraordinaire and profiling legend David Rossi leaving retirement to mostly be snarky, and the young agent with multiple doctorates who is smarter than seems humanly possible. You would never admit it, but you were particularly eager to meet the genius. He guest lectured once in your friend's linguistics class your last semester before graduating, and xe wouldn't shut up about him for an entire week. When you told xem that your transfer was approved, xe begged for "a full rundown on what he's like up close and personal" after your first case. But first, you needed to meet with SSA Hotchner.

"Please, take a seat." He gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. 

"Thank you. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." You thanked your lucky star that your voice didn't shake.

"It's a pleasure to have you. I heard nothing but the best about you from your previous supervisor. Officially, all the paperwork has gone through for your transfer, but I would like to ask a couple of questions before we get started." 

"Of course, sir. What would you like to know?" One corner of his mouth ticked up slightly for a fraction of a second, and you counted that as a major victory.

"First and foremost, why are you interested in the BAU?" You relaxed slightly; you'd prepared for this question.

"Human behavior is nothing short of fascinating. Everyone is shaped by a unique set of experiences, but at the end of the day, we all behave in documented patterns. Everything matters, because it shapes who we are, but also nothing does, because we all end up in one of a finite number of 'shapes', so to speak. No one is the same, but we all exhibit set behavioral patterns. No matter what someone's gone through, at the end of the day, they are still understandable and predictable. I find that absolutely fascinating, and the work that the BAU does with that is incredible. I want to be a part of it, and I have the skill and drive to do so. After all, the BAU essentially wrote the handbook for Crisis Negotiation."

"That is a very interesting perspective, agent." His face was neutral, but you detected approval in his tone. "I only had one other matter to bring up- I see two different first names in your paperwork, and two of your references refer to you with different pronouns. Which name do you prefer, and what are your pronouns?"

You were floored; you'd never had a supervisor so casually look past paperwork outing you. "Y/N, sir, and he/him/his."

"Wonderful. Well, Y/N, welcome to the BAU. Let's go meet the team, shall we?" You nodded and followed him out his door into the meeting room, where the rest of the team was assembled.

"Everyone, this is Special Agent Y/N L/N. He has just transferred from Crisis Negotiation."

"Oh! New guy! Hi hi hi! I'm Penelope Garcia, just call me Penelope, and I do all the tech-y, research-y stuff." She made her way across the room to you as she spoke, talking with her hands.

"Pleasure to meet you, Penelope! I love the look you're rocking, by the way. Those shoes in particular are magnificent." You knew you were being the gay sterotype that you'd spent your career trying to avoid, but shoes that good could not go uncomplimented.

"Oh my goodness, thank you!" she said to you before stage-whispering to the rest of the team, "I like him! Let's keep him." The team laughed, and you blushed. It seemed that Hotchner had wordlessly passed on the duties of making the introductions to her, because she pointed to the agent closest to her, handsome-guy-with-the-eyebrows from earlier, and continued on. 

"Okay, so, this is Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Jenifer Jareau, but we all call her JJ, David Rossi, and Dr Spencer Reid." They all nodded, smiled, and/or waved slightly when they were introduced, with the exception of Dr Reid, who looked almost like he was looking at a puzzle. You chalked the feeling in your gut it gave you to first-day nerves.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all, and I look forward to getting to know you all better as time goes on." You were addressing everyone, but something about the way Dr. Reid was staring at you made it difficult to look away from him for too long.

"Wonderful! Now, as much as I wish we could all chit-chat and get to know Y/N better, we do have a case. Last night, a body was found in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park."

The case was interesting, twin injustice collectors, one more mission oriented, the other interested almost entirely on experimenting with different forms of torture on the victims. The former, over the weeks between kills, had started dating one of the local detectives, neither of them knowing of the other's involvement in the case. You were there when that information came to light at the killer's arrest, and you were able to diffuse the situation, ensuring that no one was harmed.

On the flight back, Prentiss insisted on the whole team going out for drinks to welcome you to the team. Hotchner declined, because he needed to get back to Jack, and Rossi said he had "plans with Tony Bennett", but everyone else agreed, mostly enthusiastically. It took significant persuasion from JJ to get Reid to agree to go out with you all. For the whole case, he was abrupt and distant with you, despite your best efforts. You knew it was silly, but you really wanted your coworkers to like you, so you decided you were going to do your absolute best to get him to like you by the end of the night.

-

"Hey, doc, first round's on me. What'll it be?" You'd noticed during the case that he shrugged off all of your attempts to start a conversation, but you figured that even he wouldn't ignore you under these circumstances.

"Uh, white wine would be great, thanks."

"White wine? At a dive bar? Does this bar even have white wine?" You'd intended to be charming, but, seriously, white wine? Who was this guy?

He opened his mouth, clearly indignant, but he was interrupted by Morgan chuckling from behind you both.

"That's why we go to this dump, newbie. It's the only bar in the area that serves white wine, which is all Pretty Boy here drinks." He winked at you and playfully elbowed Reid in the ribs.

You threw your hands up in mock surrender and chuckled. "Okay, okay, white wine for the good doctor it is. What's your poison? I'm sure word's gotten around that the first round is on me."

"You know, I might have heard something about that, and I most definitely wouldn't say no to a dirty martini." He winked at you, and your chuckle turned into full-on laughter.

You got the bartender's attention and ordered their drinks and a Jack and Coke for yourself. "It's a damn shame you're straight, Derek. Truly a crime against queer men everywhere, although I'm not so proud I can't admit that I'm a bit glad you're not competition."

"Wait wait wait, how do you know I don't like a little meat on the side?"

"So, sidestepping the fact that not all men have penises and some women do, you are so hetero that it's almost painful. Look around; men of all shapes and sizes outnumber women 2 to 1 at least. But you've spent the whole night making eyes at those women over there." You pointed to a table on the other side of the room. "Plus, I may or may not have received a very detailed string of texts from Penelope that essentially amounted to a crash course on all of y'all. I get a feeling that she might like me a little bit."

"My bad on the meat comment- I'll definitely fix that. And speaking of Penelope being a font of information, she's been uncharacteristically tight-lipped about you. What's your big secret, new guy?"

You raised an eyebrow and sipped your drink. "All you need to know is that Hotch, who strikes me as even more protective of this team than he lets on, which is really saying something, knows, and he cares less than any brass I've ever met. And I know for a fact that if Penelope thought it was concerning, she'd have at least voiced some suspicions about me, if not told you outright. I'm not ashamed of it, it's just none of y'alls business. Anyway, the blonde from the table you were eyeing earlier is coming over to see if we've been flirting this whole time so she knows whether to flirt with you or gush about how she's always wanted a Gay Best Friend oh my god. If I'm still here, it'll be both, and I'm allergic to that particular brand of cishet nonsense. Have fun, good-lookin'." You chuckled and patted him on the shoulder as you left, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Reid roll his eyes, down his drink, and walk in the other direction. What is his deal? Whatever. I'm not about to let him wet blanket all over tonight. You took out your phone and sent out a couple of quick texts.

[To: Penelope]: Thank you for not outing me. It means the world to me. Let's get brunch sometime?

[To: Nerd <3]: you sure Reid seemed pleasant when he lectured? that has Not been my experience with him so far. you were right about him being Cute cute, though, damn. a Gay could get lost in those big brown eyes, and in different circumstances I'd climb him like a tree. shame he's Like That lmao

Looking up from your phone, you saw Emily and JJ nearby, so you went over to join them. 

"Oh em gee Y/N you're gay? I had, like, no idea! We should, like, totally get brunch and then go shopping! This is gonna be so much fun; I've always wanted a gay best friend!" You rolled your eyes and laughed at Emily's terrible Valley Girl accent. "Unfortunately, I did not spend my time in the closet learning anything about clothes. I only dress halfway decently for work because my friend dragged me to the mall and updated my wardrobe when I applied for this position. It's all xir doing."

"Well, xe has excellent taste." You mentally filed away JJ's effortless use of neopronouns.

"I'll be sure to let xem know! I'm so down for brunch, though." You checked your phone. "Looks like Garcia is too!"

"Damn, you work fast. You'll fit right in here," Emily laughed.

"Honestly, I'm a little bit blown away by how awesome and welcoming you all are. Well, mostly. Is Spencer like this with every new person, or did I somehow do something to offend him?" Emily and JJ shared a look you couldn't quite read before JJ answered.

"Spencer…" she hesitated, "He's going through something right now. I'm sure he'll figure it out soon, and things will smooth out." 

So you waited. Weeks passed, and you fit in well with the team. You ended up getting close to Derek and Penelope in particular, and you kept trying to make nice with Spencer. Weeks of cold shoulder and as few words as possible to you while being his normal, verbose self with everyone else. So, three weeks into your new job, on a night out with Derek and Penelope you made a decision.

"Look. It's been weeks, and the guy still won't say more than 5 words to me. I'm done trying to… I don't know what I was even trying to do," you slurred, you’d probably had one drink too many. "Make a friend, maybe? I don't even know. But I'm done. He wants to give taciturn bordering on rude? Then that's what he'll receive. Let's see how Pretty Boy likes a taste of his own medicine. No more Mister Nice Guy." You wouldn't remember the look they shared until much later.

And so, your silent war with Spencer truly began.

[letterboxd]

A Cinematic Outcoming.

From Istanbul to Chicago, and C.R.A.Z.Y. to Spirited Away, Letterboxd member, writer and film programmer Emre Eminoğlu explores the films that drove his gay awakening.

“I see it as my duty to never shut up about how representation matters.” —Emre Eminoğlu

I was one of the luckiest ones, yet I had no idea how lucky I was. Growing up in Istanbul, Turkey, a predominantly patriarchal, conservative and homophobic society, my luck was being born into an open-minded, secular and loving family.

In this bubble, I was isolated from the struggles of the majority of my people. I was not bullied at school by my peers, I was not forced into being someone else by my family. Yet I still had that voice in my head. As soon as I realized something could be different with me, I became my own bully and forcefully adopted a fictional persona: ‘exceptionally normal’.

Coming out was hard, but coming out to myself was harder. Although I was perfectly aware of my sexual identity, I could not come to terms with the possibility of being ‘abnormal’. Cue cinema. Watching films was a way of escape for high-school Emre—it still is—and it was inevitable that I would come across some LGBTQ+ films. I was not consciously in search of a ‘truth’ about myself but I started seeing my reflection in them, as they slowly disarmed the bully I involuntarily created.

Twenty years later, now, as a 34-year-old gay man professionally writing on cinema and television, I see it as my duty to never shut up about how representation matters. Streaming LGBTQ+ shows on various platforms, seeing widely released, mainstream LGBTQ+ films, listening to the music of openly LGBTQ+ stars, and hearing words of wisdom like “If you can’t love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else?”, I am confident that the personal, inner bully that I created twenty years ago would not survive a week in today’s world.

‘C.R.A.Z.Y.’ (2005)

Jean-Marc Vallée’s C.R.A.Z.Y. (2005) was definitely not the first LGBTQ+ film I ever watched, but it was an invaluable juncture in my life. It was a hot summer in Istanbul, freshman year of college was over. One of my best friends, who had been accompanying me through most of my cinematic discoveries, told me about a French-Canadian film with this guy on the film poster with David Bowie makeup on his face. We headed to an independent theater in Kadıköy to see it.

Zachary Beaulieu was different. As the lone gay son in a family of five boys, he too was forcefully adopting a fictional persona, and his way of escape was music. He was constantly worried about how to be worthy of his parents’ love, how to realize their ideals of him, and how his difference and truth contradicted all of that. Zac’s 1960s basically mirrored my story in the 2000s. I perfectly muted the life-changing enlightenment I was going through and did not vocalize my inner screams.

In two hours, C.R.A.Z.Y. helped me realize my true self and admit my sexual identity after all those years. It was a personal threshold I had been longing to cross… but there was still a lot to go through.

‘Les Amours Imaginaires’ (Heartbeats, 2010)

Liking someone, falling for someone, being loved, dating someone, sex, refusals, misinterpretations, heartbreaks, break-ups, bad sex. On the other side of the closet, I was being introduced to new, sometimes euphoric, sometimes gut-wrenching experiences. But coming out to my friends was still a challenge. I was feeling so lonely keeping all these wonderful and horrible experiences in my chest.

But I was not alone: LGBTQ+ films were my life’s understudy. The same heartbreaks, worries, and disappointments I was going through were right there on the silver screen. I took note as two best friends, Francis and Marie, fall for the same guy and navigate their friendship in Xavier Dolan’s Les Amours Imaginaires (Heartbeats, 2010). I studied how a popular student, Jarle, falls for the new guy in school, but cannot risk his reputation to be with him in Stian Kristiansen’s Mannen som Elsket Yngve (The Man Who Loved Yngve, 2008) and I watched as close friends Tobi and Achim become lovers, until one’s need to keep everything secret threatens to destroy the relationship in Marco Kreuzpaintner’s Sommersturm (Summer Storm, 2004).

Things were not always accessible via online platforms and the internet, so film festivals were often the only chance to see the latest independent and queer films. Two of the biggest film festivals in Istanbul, thankfully, had LGBTQ+-focused sections; !f’s Gökkuşağı (Rainbow) and Istanbul Film Festival’s Nerdesin aşkım? (Where are you, my love?) felt like home.

‘Tomboy’ (2011)

Being the lone avid cinephile among my friends, I was used to seeing half of my festival picks alone. Even before coming out to myself, my hopes for a romantic relationship included, among other things, having a festival partner. When I, fortunately, found the one, I was delighted to have also found the perfect festival partner. Shortly after our first month together, the first film we saw at a film festival was Céline Sciamma’s Tomboy (2011).

Although I was a 24 year old cis man, I was more than able to empathize with the title character, a ten-year-old trans boy. With his family unaware of his true identity, Mickaël experiences the liberation of a fresh start when ‘mistaken’ for a boy after they move to a new neighborhood—finally able to introduce himself as Mickaël, not Laure.

Changing my career path, a new job in the creative industry, and a stable relationship had similar effects on me. I was still not completely out to my parents, or some of my friends, schoolmates, and acquaintances from my past, but I was freed of the obligation to explain anything to my new friends or colleagues. I would proudly introduce them to my boyfriend, or simply correct people by saying I was attracted to men during a conversation. The perfect festival partner turned out to be a perfect partner as well—over the past ten years, he has helped me grow and be proud of myself.

‘Weekend’ (2011)

We moved in together in the fifth year of our relationship. Right above our bed hangs a poster of Andrew Haigh’s Weekend (2011). At the time we saw it, it was just another film that we watched together and liked—no significance, no symbolism. It is the story of two young men, Russell and Glen, who are fascinated by the connection they find between each other, and are surprised how their one-night-stand evolved into the perfect weekend. When Glen reveals that he will be leaving for another country the very next day, it only makes their connection stronger, and their time together more precious. Being a timid and socially anxious person, none of my romantic relationships or my friendships had formed this organically. Even my first date with my partner was a disaster. We built what we have now over time, slowly and patiently. I did not believe in ‘weekends’.

And yet, one summer night, we met a guy on Grindr, as we occasionally did. What we thought was just another one night stand was in fact a transformative experience for us both. Intense conversation, a triple connection, the drinks we enjoyed instead of hurrying to bed, and the passionate sex turned that casual one-night-stand into a magical reality for us. We realized that we still had feelings and instincts to discover in ourselves and in each other. Over a week-long, unexpected, unpredictable polyamorous fling, we learned to act as one instead of two—only to find out that he was leaving for another country the very next week. This was our ‘weekend’.

‘Hamam’ (Steam: The Turkish Bath, 1997)

Thinking how LGBTQ+ films of other cultures and languages had played a significant role in some precious, threshold-crossing moments of my life, it was alienating not being able to feel embraced and represented openly in Turkish cinema. There were certainly multiple Turkish LGBTQ+ films or characters, but they were in films addressing more urgent issues—right to live, violence against LGBTQ+ individuals, honor murders, trans murders—rather than the nuanced experience of queer love.

Although I discovered it years after it was released, Italian-Turkish director Ferzan Özpetek’s Hamam (Steam: The Turkish Bath, 1997) was a mind-blowing experience for me. The relationship, and the sexual tension, between Francesco, the Italian heir to a building with a Turkish bath in it, and Mehmet, the young son of the family managing the compound, felt much closer to my story and my cultural, familial identity.

Aşk, Büyü vs. (Love, Spells and All That, 2019)

Today, I am glad to see more and more filmmakers finding the courage to maintain the LGBTQ+ narrative in Turkish cinema, despite the oppressive, intolerant and exclusionary policies. Some are telling the youthful, urban stories I was longing for at the time: In Leyla Yılmaz’s Bilmemek (Not Knowing, 2019), Umut, a high-school athlete from a middle-class family in Istanbul, is bullied by his so-called modern and open-minded teammates after not replying to a query about whether he is gay or not. In Ümit Ünal’s Aşk, Büyü vs. (Love, Spells and All That, 2019), Eren and Reyhan, two adult women reunite in the magical atmosphere of The Princes’ Islands on the Istanbul coast, decades after they were forcefully separated by their parents.

The story of me coming out to myself all started with an urge to escape reality through cinema, and on the way, I found films that gave meaning to my muddled existence. When I saw Levan Akin’s And Then We Danced (2019), I smiled as I noticed the Spirited Away poster in Merab’s room; this minor detail another reminder that I was not alone. Merab, a gay dancer who is part of a very traditional and conservative Georgian dance company, was dealing with similar challenges in his life. He was trying to discover his true identity in a society that does not celebrate being different. He was too, finding an escape in cinema.

Coming out was hard. It still is. A recent Instagram post by the 27-year-old actor Connor Jessup, who came out as gay two years ago, reminded me coming out is not a single moment, but a never-ending process, a ‘becoming’. He writes, “When I first came out, a friend wrote to me and said, ‘Now you can really start coming out.’ Start? I thought. I just did it. But he was right. […] I’m going to keep trying. I’m going to keep looking.”

I keep trying, and looking. Learning about myself, my identity, my relationship. And LGBTQ+ films keep helping and inspiring me, just as they did in my journey to accept myself and become the person I am today. This is the power of cinema; unconsciously, you see your past, actuality and possibilities through the stories filmmakers tell. And I am so grateful to these filmmakers.

Related content

The Ten Greatest Turkish Films of All Time, according to the Turkish Film Critics’ Association

Emre’s Favorite LGBTQ+ Films: a personal top 50

Queer Films in Turkish Cinema—a list by Atakan

The Top 100 Turkish Movies of the 21st Century: Emre’s personal favorites

[girl-with-cat-eyes]

Paperwork

 Part 3 of the Reba au. Pat one and part two.

Summary: The weekend comes and Janus deals with paperwork, one-night stands, and meeting his ex-husband's new boyfriend. 

A/N: So I went on a vacation to see @forever-forgotten-angel and took a break from writing. But I'm back and writing! Special thanks as always to @amazon-me-bitches and my qpp @forever-forgotten-angel for beta reading this fic! And now, without further ado, my fic.

~

When Janus woke up on Friday things seemed almost normal. He dropped Emile and Remy off at school, Patton agreed to pick them up. Virgil had ridden with Thomas, which meant that Janus didn’t have to worry about any pickups today. That was good, considering he was working late. He had a trial coming up in two weeks, a factory worker who’d been injured on the job due to company negligence of machinery. Janus had been happy to take the case. 

 Of course, it meant that he wasn’t leaving the office until 8 PM. Janus yawned as he left the office, ready to get home and sleep. It would be lovely. A full night’s worth of sleep and then the weekend. Not that he wouldn’t be working of course. But his home office was far superior to the one he had at work. Maybe he’d take the boys out for a picnic if he had time. That would be nice. Emile had been wanting to go to the park and see the ducks before it got too cold. They could feed the ducks.

Janus was interrupted from his thoughts by a loud clang. He reached for his pepper spray, better safe than sorry. There were clangs, seeming to come from a dumpster next to the parking lot. It was most likely a raccoon but Janus wasn’t taking any chances. He began quickly walking to his car, eyes trained on the dumpster the whole time. He was halfway to his car when the source of the noises showed itself.

 Janus prided himself on his eloquent speech but all he could find it in himself to say was, “What?”. Brilliant Janus, just brilliant. 

 It was a person, taller than Janus. They had dark curly hair from what Janus could see, and a mustache as well. They held a possum in their arms. Janus blinked, “What did I tell you about running off Tallulah? You’re not going to find any tasty treats in a law office’s dumpster. We have to go to taco bell for that. The only thing you’ll find in there is paper, office supplies, and-”, they looked up and made eye contact with Janus, “And the sexiest man alive.”

They’d ran up to Janus before he had a chance to react, “Hello sexy. Are you a lawyer? Because it’s illegal for someone to be as sexy as you are.”

 “Sorry about that. I tend to get over-excited.”, they offered a hand out to shake, “I’m Remus. He/him pronouns.”

“Janus.”, he found himself saying, “He/him pronouns. What exactly were you doing in the dumpster?”

“How dare you insinuate that Tallulah is merely a pet. She is my baby.” 

 “Oh! Tallulah here thought she could get snacks in that dumpster over there so I had to get her out.”, he held up the possum in his arms.

“Right. And Tallulah is your pet?”

 “Well, it appears your baby wants to eat office supplies.”, Janus reached out to pet the possum in question,  scritching her ears. He smiled as she leaned into the touch. He smiled at the sight.

 “Believe me she doesn’t want that. I’ll take her to taco bell. She enjoys their burritos. You’re more than welcome to join if you want?”, it was a stupid idea. They’d just met, Remus was a total stranger. He could be a serial killer for all Jan knew.

 Message sent to Patton at 8:23 PM.

 “Hey Pat, don’t wait up for me. I’m gonna get take out on the way home. Make sure Remy’s homework is done before he plays on the Switch.”

 ~

Taco Bell, Janus thought, was best enjoyed at night. They’d gotten fast food and now sat out in the parking lot, a feast of fast food laid out before them. He watched as Tallulah happily ate her promised bean burrito. It was nice, relaxing even. Janus smiled as he watched, “So how does one end up with a pet possum?”

Remus grinned, “I birthed her from my womb.”, seeing Janus’ unamused expression he turned serious, “I rescue animals. She was rescued from an exotic pet dealer. She can’t be rehabilitated into the wild, unfortunately.”

“I see. She’s very sweet.”, Janus continued petting the possum in question, “So what do you do with your time? Besides rescue possums and climb into dumpsters of course." 

 “I’m a midwife actually.”, Remus grinned. Janus looked over to where he had unhinged his jaw to deepthroat his burrito like a snake. He waited for Remus to finish before speaking. 

 “A midwife?”

 Remus nodded, “Yeah. I make bank. Which is nice cause it means I can foster lots of animals.”, he continued deepthroating the burrito.

 Well, that was unexpected. Janus stared at the man in front of him delivering babies and truthfully he couldn’t picture it. Remus seemed more like the type of person to go into a job that didn’t involve babies. He seemed more likely to own a demolition derby, “You don’t seem like the type. Can I ask a dumb question?”

 “Sure.”

 “Well, it’s not a question. I just didn’t know men could be midwives.”

 “It shocks a lot of people actually. Most people don’t think women would be comfortable working with me.”

“I’m guessing that’s not true.”

 “I work with trans men mostly. Having a trans midwife is reassuring. I know what they’re going through. And sometimes cis midwives can be judgy.”

“You’re trans?”

 “Is he?”

 “Yep.”

“Well then.”, Janus took a bite of his food, chewing thoughtfully, “My son’s pregnant.”

 “Yeah. It’s been super stressful because he’s 17.”, Janus sighed, “How much would it cost for you to work with us? Any resources would be helpful.”

 “For you? I’ll do it for free. I know all too well what it’s like to be a pregnant teen. And I think you’re cute.”, he winked and Janus felt his face warm in a way he hadn’t felt in years. 

 “You- you got pregnant as a teen?”, he forced himself to get out. Remus nodded and for a brief second Janus thought he saw a tear in his eye. 

 “Yeah but I miscarried. Lack of resources and all. So now I make sure that no one else has to go through what I went through.”

 Message sent to Patton at 11 PM

 “That’s amazing. You have to let me pay you though.”

“I told you, helping a cutie like you out is payment enough.”, he leaned forward, “I wouldn’t mind a kiss though. That is, if you’re agreeable?”, Remus leaned forward and Janus could smell his cologne. The warm, spicy, citrus scent drove him wild. It was like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, staring at the abyss below. And Janus was happy to fall.

 Don’t wait up for me. I’ll be back late.

 ~

Patton Picani-Hart had never been a morning person. Sure, he wanted to be; but late nights at the restaurant and his sleep schedule meant that he had trouble pulling himself out of bed in the morning. It also meant he could barely function without at least three cups of coffee. He was currently standing in front of the coffee maker, staring at it as if he could will the coffee to brew faster. 

 It had been a long night. Janus had to work late, which meant it was up to Patton to pick up Emile and Remy from school and drive them home. Luckily Virgil and Thomas had agreed to watch them because then he had to rush back to the restaurant for the dinner shift. He got back by 11 to all of the kids asleep and leftover greek food waiting for him. He’d been so tired that he’d eaten the food and fallen asleep immediately, never seeing the message he had from Janus.

 He hadn’t seen it until the morning when he awoke to Emile sitting on his chest asking for food. A quick check of his phone revealed it was 9 am and Janus had stayed out all night. So Patton did the only thing he could do; he got dressed and went downstairs to make breakfast.  Six breakfast burritos later, and he was beginning to wonder where Janus was. Clearly, he’d had a good night if he was gone for this long. At least he hoped it was good. Regardless, it was good for Janus to start exploring romance again if he was ready. Hopefully, the relationship would be good for him. He couldn’t wait to hear the details. 

 Patton was considering calling him when there was a jingle of keys at the front door. Janus walked through the door. His hair stuck out in multiple directions, his suit was unkempt, and Patton could see multiple hickeys on his chest. It had been a good night after all. He handed him a cup of coffee, “Good morning. Looks like you had a good night.”

 Janus blushed and Patton knew exactly how good of a night he’d had. He grinned as he watched the man in question try to come up with an excuse, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”, his ex may have had a silver tongue, but that all went away when he was flustered. 

 “I’m not mad. You seem to forget that we’re separated, soon to be divorced. Going out is healthy.”, Patton handed him a plate of food with a smile, “So who is he?”

 “His name is Remus and we met last night. He’s nice. I invited him over for dinner Tuesday night.”, Patton frowned. Having a one-night stand was one thing, heck dating was fine. But bringing this guy around the kids after one date didn’t seem like the best idea. 

 “I support you dating Jan, but don’t think you should date a little bit longer before bringing him home. Virgil won’t mind but it might confuse Emile and Remy.”, it was the truth. The boys would be confused if Janus introduced them to a new boyfriend and then it didn’t work out. Best to wait until it was serious. That was what Patton had done.

 Janus blinked as if it was a new idea to him. “Pat, I’m not introducing him as my boyfriend. He’s a midwife. I invited him over to meet Virge. I thought it might be a good idea to have a midwife as well as an OBGYN.” 

 Patton sighed in relief; he didn’t want to sound like a jealous ex, especially when he’d been the one to ask for the divorce. This Remus coming over as a midwife was different though. And it meant that he wouldn’t have to worry if the kids would be confused. Speaking of the kids, Emile ran in at that moment, practically bouncing in his shoes, “Is breakfast ready yet?”

 ~

 Janus smiled at their youngest, picking him up and balancing him on his hip, “Yep. How about you go get your brothers and then we can eat.”, Emile nodded and ran off as fast as he could. Janus nodded and went to leave the kitchen, “I should go change.”

Pat nodded, a thought coming to him, “Virgil wanted to come to help me prep for lunch rush today at the restaurant. Could you pick him up before the dinner rush? I don’t want to stress him.”, Janus nodded before leaving, leaving Patton alone to wonder what this Remus was like.

Janus hummed as he drove to Pat’s. He’d spent most of the day in the office today, getting caught up on his paperwork. He’d promised to take the boys to the park tomorrow for a picnic, which meant he had to get it all done today. Thomas had luckily agreed to watch Remy and Emile once Pat and Virgil left to prep for the day, giving Janus ample time to work. 

 Soon 5 o’clock came around and Janus was leaving to go pick up Virgil. He was sure that Virgil would be ready to go home. Janus had seen just how busy the restaurant could get during the dinner rush. Virgil may have wanted to be a chef, but he wasn’t ready for that. Especially right now.

 He pulled up behind the restaurant, parking in the employee parking lot. Inside he could see the kitchen was a flurry of work, prepping as much as possible before it got truly busy. Waving to the kitchen staff, Janus headed to the back office where he knew Patton would be finishing paperwork before he went to go work in the kitchen. Virgil would most likely be in there with him. Only he didn’t see Virgil when he entered the office. 

 Patton stood in front of his desk, kissing an unfamiliar man as if his life depended on it. Janus blinked before realizing this must be the Logan he’d heard about. He quickly realized he was staring and, unsure of what to do, coughed to announce his presence. Patton jumped and turned around, Logan blushing and looking down. 

 “Janus, hey, what are you doing here?”, Patton looked flustered, like they weren’t divorced, “This is Logan, I told you about him.”, behind him, Logan nodded, still blushing too much to properly speak.

 “Nice to meet you, I’m here to pick up Virgil. I said I’d be here at 5, remember?”

 Pat’s eyes went wide, “Is it 5 already? I need to go get started in the kitchen.”, he moved away from Logan and ran to put on his chef’s coat, “Virgil was taking inventory in the fridge. Janus nodded and left the office, hearing Logan saying he should get going as he left.

 He did in fact find Virgil in the freezer, stocking ingredients and taking note of what was low. Upon seeing his dad he handed the list to a cook before standing up to leave. They got to the car, Virgil getting in, and Janus was about to when he heard someone call his name.

 Logan stood in front of him, looking made together and not at all how he looked when Janus had seen him earlier, “Yes?” 

 Logan took a deep breath before speaking, “I just wanted to apologize that we had to meet like that. I wanted to meet you and the kids properly, not having you walk in on me kissing Patton goodbye.”, Janus nodded in understanding.

 “It’s fine. Patton and I were separated before you two started dating. Just treat him right. We may not be together anymore, but I still care about him. He has a good heart and I don’t want to see that heart broken.”

 “I never want to hurt him.”

 “Then we’ll have no issue. Goodbye then.”, Janus got in the car, giving the man a wave before driving off. He turned to Virgil, who was listening to music next to him, giving him a tap on the shoulder.

 Virgil looked up at him, taking off his headphones before speaking, “What’s up?”

 “How does Indian sound for dinner?”, Virgil nodded and Janus set off to get take out. There was a few moments of silence before he spoke again, “Virgil, you don’t mind if your father and I date again, right? I mean date people that aren’t each other.”

 Virgil shrugged, “It doesn’t bother me. You two are getting a divorce, dating seems to make sense. And I know you’ll both always be here for me and Remy and Emile.”, Janus nodded, comfortable in the fact that he knew at least one of his kids was ok with him dating.

~

A/N: We finally meet Remus and Logan. All that's left is Roman, who will be in the next part.

 Disclaimer: Possums are not pets, they are wild animals. Furthermore, I do not know their diet but I'm taco bell isn't part of it. Tallulah is a magical possum and real-life rules do not apply to her. Do not inbox me saying possums don't eat bean burritos. 

Besides that, I'm taking prompts for this verse, so if you have prompts send them in! I'd love to see your hcs for this au. And as always, if you like this fic, leave a comment. Thank you for reading!

[collabwithmyself]

Interlude: Just Like Me

"Did you SEE THAT?!" Maya crowed, leaping off the couch and onto her feet. "That was AWESOME!"

Miles was right behind her, flapping his hands as giddiness overtook him. "I can't take the suspense, Maya, I can't wait another week for this! We've been looking forward to this showdown all season!"

"YES! Did you see the way the Steel Samurai was so cool with his spear?!" Maya grabbed the nearby broom - Miles had abruptly abandoned his chores when they realized the show was about to start - and swung it haphazardly. "See you in Hell, Evil Magistrate," she said, her voice dropping into a deeper register Miles wasn't even aware she was capable of. He stopped trying to grab the broom from her to correct her technique, flabbergasted.

"How in the world did you just do that?"

"Huh?" Maya blinked. "Do what?"

"Th-That! With your voice!"

"Ohhh..." Maya grinned mischeviously. "A girl has her ways."

The pair stood there for a second.

Two.

"Okay, it's a lot harder than it used to be, since I've been doing voice training and all," Maya admitted in a rush, unable to contain herself.

"Why would vocal training make changing your voice harder?" Miles wondered aloud. "...Why would you need vocal training in the first place, in fact?"

The answer cracked him over the head like a wooden rod. No, wait, that was Maya fooling around with the broom again.

"NGHOOH!"

"Whoops!"

Miles rubbed the swelling knot on his forehead, grimacing. "What was that for?"

"Hee... Cain instinct?"

"What? Where do you get these words?"

"Internet."

"Who is giving you access to the internet? Don't you live on a mountain?"

"I usually use Mia's computer whenever I visit to look at stuff," Maya said matter-of-factly.

There was something else he wanted to ask, but it had been very rudely interrupted by Maya whacking him. He racked his brain, retracing his mental steps. She was messing with the broom because they were talking about the Steel Samurai, and Maya had made herself sound sort of like the Steel Samurai, and she brought up voice training when Miles asked... aha!

"Maya, what did you mean earlier by vocal training?"

Maya stiffened, clutching the broom. "I was hoping I hit you hard enough you forgot about that."

"Wha-- why would you--" Miles was bewildered. "You hit me on purpose so I'd forget I asked you a question?"

"Yeah! Let's talk about that! I'm such a card, aren't I?" Maya gave him a toothy grin.

"Maya."

Maya puffed up her cheeks and then let out her breath with a noisy sputter of her lips. Her arms drooped, and the broom slid out of her hands and onto the floor. "Can't you just drop it, My? It's nothing important."

The curious part of him yearned to know what Maya was hiding, even though he had a decent hunch. The rest of him, however, felt regret at seeing Maya so dejected. He cleared his throat awkwardly and sat back down on the couch.

"Right. I... I'm sorry."

...perhaps there was something he could do that might be able to coax the story out of her, but if he was wrong, he'd be baring a particularly vulnerable part of himself to someone he still didn't know all that well. Maya didn't seem like the type to be hurtful, but she'd lived in a village with heavy gender roles her whole life, and he wasn't sure if he was mentally prepared to walk her through the basics if need be.

Eventually, he settled on saying, "I had an odd voice when I was younger, too."

Maya perked up. "You have an odd voice now," she said almost immediately.

Miles spluttered. "I do not," he protested.

"Nghooooh," Maya groaned. Miles took a cushion from the couch and chucked it at her.

Once she stopped cackling, she leaned on the couch with an expression Miles hoped was intrigue. "Okay, okay. Tell me about your weird voice."

"Well, it could... very easily be called feminine, I suppose." He folded his hands in his lap as he carefully picked his words. "I had to go through a lot of effort to make it sound the way I wanted it to."

Maya was wearing an expression he couldn't quite read, looking like she was somehow simultaneously staring at him and through him.

"So I, erm," Miles mumbled, all too aware of how little he'd thought this through, "understand what it's like. To be unhappy enough with your voice to want to change it. And I, er, I'm glad you're comfortable."

An extremely awkward silence filled the room, stretching longer and longer. Miles began to fidget in place, squeezing his hands together before releasing, squeeze-release, squeeze-release--

"I'm trans."

Miles stiffened. "O... Oh?" he managed, wincing at how terribly desperate he sounded.

Maya wound a piece of hair around her finger. "Yeah, I realized that being a boy sucked one day, and I wanted to be a girl instead. So I am a girl."

"I don't know," Miles mumbled, tensing, "I found the concept rather appealing."

It took her a moment, but then her jaw dropped. "Wait, you--?!"

He folded his arms across his chest, giving himself a firm squeeze. "I haven't known anyone like myself since I was nine years old," he admitted.

Maya chose this moment to hurl herself over the back of the couch and flatten Miles in something approaching a hug, but was really just a mess of flailing limbs.

"NGOOOH!!"

"I've never met ANYBODY like me before!" Maya shouted, ecstatic. "Do you have any idea what it's like being the only trans person in an entire village that still doesn't even grasp the concept of gay couples?"

"I can only imagine," Miles wheezed. "Please get off my stomach."

Maya chose instead to somehow drop even more of her weight onto him. Miles coughed.

"It's like destiny we met or something, My! This is incredible!"

"I-I don't... wait, aren't only women born with spiritual powers in your village?"

"The spirits said trans rights," Maya said sternly.

They stared at each other.

Then they both started laughing.

Maya collapsed fully against Miles, wheezing as she tried to catch her breath. "Hoo, yeah... once I figured out I was a girl, I was like, I wanna be a spirit medium! Because that's what women in Kurain Village do, y'know? And it turns out, bam, I've got spiritual powers! I think it's probably the only reason anybody in the village actually takes my identity seriously!"

Miles's grin slipped off his face. "Ah... that's..."

But Maya seemed unperturbed. "I think my Aunt Morgan thinks I turned myself into a girl specifically to spite her, which, while a hilarious concept--"

"Maya," Miles said firmly, "you deserve a more accepting environment than that."

Maya deflated. "Yeah, well, it's the best I'm gonna get," she sighed.

"Well, I can say with certainty that you're a woman regardless of whether you can channel spirits."

Maya was silent, resting her face on Miles's shoulder.

"...thanks," she finally mumbled into him.

Miles awkwardly patted her on the back. "Er... yes."

[keanureevesisbae]

Mister Cavill, your dog is kinda fat - Chapter 19

Summary: Veterinarian Olivia Tran has zero time for bullshit. After becoming a mom at age twenty three, the one thing she wants is a good life for her daughter Vanessa. Her ex didn’t want anything to do with her nor the baby and she decided that man are officially banned out of her life. But then she meets Henry Cavill at her clinic and her ban slowly starts to crumble apart. Henry on the other hand is looking for one thing: a family. And when he meets Olivia Tran, he finds just that.

Henry Cavill x Olivia Tran (ofc)

Warnings: None

Wordcount: 3.1k

A/N: Oh my God, everyone. This story has reached 70k and I have to write another chapter. This is a full on novel that I wrote in about a month... 🤯🤯🤯

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

Olivia is thirty weeks pregnant and since a week she is on maternity leave. Henry doesn’t want to be the kind of man that is really possessive about his girlfriend, wanting her around every single second, but he is happy that she is at home now. Working the hours that she did, became too much for her, though she didn’t want to admit it. He even suggested to buy her some extra maternity leave, but she insisted that she was going to work up until twenty nine weeks.

But now she is at home and God, does he love every minute that she’s here with him. This pregnancy has been a dream for Henry. His family is growing and that was what he wanted. He started with Kal and then he met Olivia. Because he met Olivia, he gained not only a beautiful girlfriend, but a marvelous young daughter like Vanessa and now they are expecting a baby girl.

His brothers asked him if he didn’t mind that he’d only have women at home, but to be entirely fair: he doesn’t care one single bit. Vanessa already said that when her baby sister is born, they are going to put make-up on him, he should lift both of them up at the same time and he should participate in fashion shows.

And that is a future he so desperately wants.

Tonight Vanessa will go to his parents place, since his mom really wants to have her over. His dad is on a camping trip with some of his friends and mom can use some company. But for now she joins Olivia and him on a little trip to a tattoo shop.

According to Olivia, it had been quite some time since she last went there, probably for the tattoo of Vanessa’s name after Vanessa was a year old. Olivia places her hand on his. ‘You sure you still want to do this?’ she asks.

‘I do.’

‘And remember, only Vanessa’s name,’ she tells him, when he parked the car. ‘I don’t want you to regret it.’

‘I could never regret you, sweetheart.’ Henry opens the door of his own side and walks around the car, to open her door and the back door, so Vanessa can get out as well.

The three of them stand on the curb, as he hears Olivia and Vanessa have a discussion. ‘Because the tattoo is permanent,’ Olivia says, holding Vanessa’s hand. ‘And I know that daddy is not going to regret you, but he and I could break up.’

Vanessa frowns. ‘But I don’t want you two to break up.’

‘We will not break up,’ Henry says to Vanessa, but he also looks at Olivia with a stern look, causing her to roll her eyes. ‘Come on, ladies. Let’s go.

The three of them walk inside the shop and he opens the door for them. ‘Remember,’ she says, ‘only Vanessa’s.’

The man behind the counter looks tough, but when he sees Olivia, his entire face lights up. ‘No way, is that you? Olivia Tran?’

‘The one and only,’ she chuckles.

‘Look at you, all glowing.’ He walks over to them, to give her a hug. ‘I’m so happy to see you.’ The man looks at Vanessa, giving her a big hug as well. ‘And you are so tall already, little V.’

‘I know, Frankie,’ Vanessa smiles, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. ‘And I’m going to be a big sister.’

‘That’s lovely, little V.’ He places her on the floor again and he looks over at Henry. ‘Isn’t this the actor?’ He wipes his hands clean on his pants.

Olivia chuckles. ‘This is my boyfriend Henry, the actor indeed. Henry, this is my favorite tattoo artist, Frankie. He did all of my tattoos.’

‘Mister Henry it’s a pleasure to meet you. I loved you in the Witcher.’

‘Oh thank you,’ Henry says, blushing a bit, as he shakes Frankie’s hand.

‘You want a tattoo, sir?’

Henry nods. ‘I wanted the same one as Olivia has. The one with Vanessa’s name.’

Franke tries to process it, but when it’s becoming obvious that he has trouble understanding, Olivia helps him out by saying: ‘Henry officially adopted Vanessa and with the new one on the way, he wanted to start off with a tattoo of Vanessa’s name.’

‘Oh, you found yourself a good man!’ Frankie says.

‘He is my new daddy,’ Vanessa says, jumping in Henry’s arms.

‘I’m so happy for you, Olivia,’ he says. ‘You and Vanessa deserve it. When is your new baby due? Is it a he or a she?’’

‘She is due at the end of November.’

‘Wonderful, wonderful. I know for a fact that she is, just like her older sister, going to be a heartbreaker.’ Frankie playfully pinches Vanessa in her cheek. ‘Mister Henry, please come with me, so you can lay down on the chair and get ready.’

Henry answers all the questions. Where he wants the tattoo, if he wants it in the same thin cursive font as Olivia has and if he had eaten well.

Vanessa and Olivia sit next to him on a stool, as he takes place in the chair. Frankie designs the tattoo, so Henry can look at his girlfriend and daughter again. ‘You sure you don’t want your name on here as well?’

‘I’m sure, Henry. I don’t want you to regret it. If we break up, you are going to have my name on you forever.’

Henry simply shrugs. ‘Vanessa, don’t listen to this, okay. You never tattoo someone else’s name on your body, you hear me?’

She nods. ‘Okay, daddy.’

‘But, Olivia, my love, you are the mother of our children. I would cherish you forever. If you really don’t want it, I understand, but I honestly wouldn’t mind. And by the way, how dare you think we are going to break up?’

She chuckles, as she rolls her eyes. ‘Well,’ she says, ‘it’s your body and if you want to, please do it. Just make a wise decision. Wesley has my name tattooed on his body and I bet he isn’t too happy with that.’

‘Seriously?’ he asks. She never told him that, but when would this ever come up in a conversation? He’d rather not talk about that lowlife.

‘On his chest.’

The idea of her name tattooed on Wesley’s chest, makes him want to hurl, but he holds it in. ‘Love, I’m going to be forever grateful that you are the mom of our kids and that is the most important thing for me. Even if we broke up—knock on wood—I would still treat you with the upmost respect, so Vanessa, baby girl and maybe our other kids can see how the most important woman in their lives should be treated like.’

‘Daddy, look what you did,’ Vanessa says, smacking his arm. ‘Mommy is crying.’ She wraps her arms around her mom’s neck and gives her a kiss. ‘Don’t cry, mommy.’

‘I’m sorry, sweetheart.’ He holds her hand to press a kiss on it.

Olivia wipes away the tears, gives Vanessa a peck on her temple and whispers that she is all good now, thanks to how good Vanessa is comforting her.

‘Okay, what about this?’ Frankie asks, as he shows them the design.

‘This looks exactly like mommy’s,’ Vanessa says.

‘It does,’ Henry says, as he nods in approval. ‘Can you write Olivia’s name in the same font?’

Frankie smiles. ‘Sure thing, sir. You are really serious about her, aren’t you?’

‘I sure am and please just say Henry.’

‘Well, Henry, you are a lucky man. Had I not been married to my wonderful wife, I’d stole Olivia right away.’

‘Shut up,’ she chuckles. ‘Henry, are you sure?’

‘I’m sure,’ he says with a smile. ‘I want this.’

Frankie says he’ll be right back and Vanessa walks over to the big tattooed up man, so she can look at how he is designing the tattoo.

Olivia smiles at him. ‘What do you want to do after we dropped of Vanessa at your mom’s?’ Kal is already there, since he has been keeping his mother company since dad left for camping.

‘I think you know,’ he laughs.

‘You horny piece of shit. My hormones should rage, not yours.’

He can’t help but laugh a bit louder. ‘See it as sympathy lust. Why are you complaining? You don’t her my whining every time you want me: five times a day?’

‘You are impossible, mister Cavill.’ She stands up and massages her lower back. ‘Don’t you worry,’ she whispers. ‘It’s nothing serious, honey. Comes with being pregnant, so please calm your tits.’

He looks around, only to see that Frankie pulled Vanessa on his lap and explains some tattoo technicalities. He pulls her closer to the chair and presses a kiss on her bump. She looks absolutely adorable pregnant and he still can’t believe that she is his girlfriend. What did he do in life to deserve her.

‘Still hundred percent sure about the tattoo?’ Olivia asks. ‘I don’t want you to regret it.’

‘I am, baby.’

‘And you know they use needles when setting tattoos?’

He nods. ‘I know. Just stay here with me, okay?’

‘We don’t want a Kal has to get his shots two point o, do we?’

‘Shut up,’ he laughs.

Frankie walks back to the chair, Vanessa plops on the stool and after all the preparations (taking off his shirt), he feels the first sting of the needle in his skin. He doesn’t want to look like a baby, but this hurts. He breaths in slowly as he focuses on Olivia. He could’ve known that it would hurt like shit, because he looked it up, but this spot was the only one he wanted. He feels Olivia’s fingers run through his hair and he closes his eyes, leaning against her touch as he lets out a breath.

‘You’re doing great, sweetheart,’ she whispers. She checks the progress and nods in approval. ‘As usual, Frankie, you are doing an amazing job.’

‘Have to make it perfect for my favorite customers baby daddy.’

‘I want to hit you, but you’re lucky that I love my boyfriend very much and don’t want to screw up his tattoo.’

‘Does it hurt, daddy?’ Vanessa asks with a smile.

‘No.’

‘Don’t lie to your daughter,’ Olivia says.

He closes his eyes. ‘A bit, sunshine.’

Olivia keeps on massaging her lower back and finally says: ‘I’m going out for a bit, to walk around, okay?’

Henry nods. ‘Call me if you need me, love.’

‘Will do. Vanessa, you want to stay here or go with me?’

‘I’m coming with you, mommy.’ The two of them give him a kiss and together they walk out of the shop.

‘Lucky man,’ Frankie says, wiping over the tattoo. ‘Not that Olivia is unlikeable or unlovable, but I never thought she’d find someone again after that prick Wesley, who I, by the way, banned out of my shop. Fucking idiot.’

Henry can’t stop his chuckle. ‘I’m indeed such a lucky man. I’m just happy that she allowed me to be her boyfriend, to be honest. She is way out of my league.’

Frankie looks him right in the eye and says: ‘She is out of your league. You better not walk away, otherwise I have to gather some friends and kick your ass. Though your size is intimidating, we care too much about Olivia. When Wesley left her, we threw him out of the shop, even threatened him.’

‘What for?’

‘If he ever showed his ass in the neighborhood again, we’d kill him.’

‘Well,’ Henry says, ‘he is a fucking idiot, so if you see him in the neighborhood, hold him hostage, so I can punch him in the face.’ He quickly tells Frankie about their meeting with Wesley back in February. ‘I had to fight the urge not to break his neck right there and then,  but Vanessa was watching, so I contained myself. I just don’t think I have ever hated someone with that amount of passion.’

Frankie finishes up the tattoo and while Henry admires it in the mirror, Olivia and Vanessa come back. ‘Oh it’s done. Let me see, let me see.’

He turns around and shows them the finished tattoo. He loves it, the cursive font, both of their names and enough space for the name of their future daughter, as well as other kids. She smiles as she places her hand on his waist. Vanessa nods in approval, holding his hand tightly in hers.

‘It’s beautiful, honey,’ Olivia says.

‘And I don’t regret it at all, sweetheart.’

≫≫≪≪

After the three of them came back from Frankie, they dropped Vanessa off at his mothers, because he had other plans for him and Olivia. The earth shattering sex they’ve been having, it’s absolutely mind blowing, but he isn’t complaining at all. He walks back into the bedroom, after he got a bath ready for Olivia. He sees her beautiful naked body on top of the blankets, a faint blush on her cheeks and the after glow of her two orgasms still apparent.

She looks up with a smile. ‘Such a shame you can’t join me in bath,’ she admits.

He smiles, as he holds out his hand for her to take. ‘It sure is, love. Careful now.’ He pulls her up and together they walk to the bathroom. He helps her step into the tub, making sure she doesn’t slip. When she is nicely seated, he tells her he will be right back. He puts on a shirt, so he isn’t just in his boxers.

‘What are you going to do?’

‘I’m going to get us something to drink, my love,’ he says with a smile. ‘You need to stay hydrated.’

‘No,’ she pouts, ‘don’t leave.’

Sometimes she does this because she is just being in a whiney mood, but today he senses that she means it. He even notices the tears in her eyes. ‘Oh no, honey, don’t cry.’

‘Don’t leave me, Henry,’ she whines.

Henry can’t help but chuckle. ‘Sweetheart, I’ll be right back.’ He presses a kiss on her temple and leaves her in the tub, though she is a sulking mess. He quickly walks downstairs and making both of them a cup of tea. He clears his throat and can’t help but think about their new baby.

The nursery is all set and done. Though they could move into a bigger place—he has the money—the both of them figured that they aren’t in a hurry. Since they want to wait at least a few years before they want an eventual third kid, they’ll manage in this place. He has yet to put up his home on the market, but he figures he should do that soon. In less than ten weeks their daughter will be here and he don’t think he has time or energy to do it then.

He walks up the stairs and sees she is now relaxing in the bath tub. Since he can’t join her, he sits on a tiny stool next to the tub. ‘I was thinking about some names,’ he says. ‘I know I told you before that I liked Heather, but I feel like you and I should think about some more names. Just like you did with Vanessa. I’m just scared that if we look at our daughter when she’s born and the name doesn’t fit her.’

She nods. ‘I still like Chloe. So if you like that name, we have two to choose from. I think it’s just hard to think of more names. Every name seems to be connected to stupid people.’

He smiles. ‘That is true.’ He never thought he could love her more, but with every passing second, his love for her grows even more. He can’t believe himself. He fell in love over the course of his lifetime, but never felt he like this. Sometimes he fears that one day she’ll get enough of him, but seeing her pregnant with their kid… It’s evident that she’ll probably not get sick of him. He is so head over heels with her, it scares him sometimes.

‘Henry, why are you staring at me?’

‘Nothing, just love you.’

She frowns. ‘No, it’s not just that. Be honest with me, Henry, you like me being pregnant, because I’m helpless, horny and ugly.’

Though he’d agree that he likes to do things for her (not the helpless part, he loves her independence) and he loves the way she initiates tons of make out sessions which on its own leads to sex, he can’t believe she says she’s ugly. ‘Don’t say you’re ugly,’ he says in disbelieve. ‘You are not ugly, everything but ugly for that matter.’

‘Henry,’ she whispers, ‘I’m fat and I have stretch marks. I gained so much weight already, while you still look like perfection.’

‘That’s because you are growing a baby inside of you. Sweetheart, I love you so much and you look beautiful.’ He takes her hand in his. He wondered what she thought when she was pregnant with Vanessa. Was she like this as well? ‘I have to be honest with you: I do love seeing you pregnant, simply because you are glowing so much and you are doing something so amazing. But I can’t wait for you to see you as the mother of a baby. I can’t wait to be an even better partner in crime with you, when we raise two daughters instead of one.’ He presses a long kiss on her fingers. ‘My beautiful girlfriend,’ he whispers, ‘don’t ever call yourself ugly or fat because otherwise I will have to tape your mouth shut.’

She sniffles. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘No, no, no, don’t feel sorry,’ he says with a smile. ‘I love you.’

After about half an hour, he helps her out of the tub and with a big shirt of him and some shorts, she lays on her side on the couch. She is fast asleep and Kal curled himself up near her legs, placing his head on her thigh. Henry cleans up a bit, before he walks over to her and sits next to the couch, pushing her shirt up.

While Vanessa spoke to her bump without a problem from the moment she found out Olivia was pregnant, he found it hard to talk to the baby. He’d smile when he watched his oldest daughter talk to her sibling, already thinking about sneaky plans they are going to do together. At first he couldn’t seem to do it, but eventually he would do it in the early mornings, when Olivia was still asleep. He was scared that she’d notice or hear him, thinking it was weird. However he felt this desperate need to do it and when the entirety of London was asleep, he kneeled beside the bed and started whispering little stories to her bump.

But one morning she caught him and though he felt like such an idiot, she thought it was adorable. ‘You can always do this,’ she told him that day. ‘This baby is also your kid. He or she should get to know your voice.’

And now he loves doing it. Sometimes he and Vanessa sit on both sides of Olivia and talk to the little baby girl, about all the things they are going to do as a family.

‘Hi baby girl,’ he says, ‘you’re almost here. We can’t wait for you to show up, but you stay in there until you are all grown and ready to face this world. I wonder what you will look like, whether or not you’ll be a Heather, a Chloe or something completely different.’ He places his heavy hand on Olivia’s belly, his fingers tracing her stretch marks. ‘Today I got the names of your mom and your older sister tattooed on my ribcage,’ he says, but it only ears him a kick against the palm of his hand. ‘No, no, no, don’t you worry about a thing now. There is a spot left for you. You mean so much to me, my love and I can’t wait for us to meet. Now be nice to your mommy, okay?’

‘She is being nice to me now,’ Olivia whispers. ‘I love you, Henry.’

‘I love you too, my love.’