ash-den - Tumblr blog

ash-den · 2 months ago

Note

one day ill write this thing in full (go read the oksa pollock series its good)

as a treat, heres some sasha art from a year ago

here ya go, i think ive decided if i ever write this thing in full this will be the beginning! i have my oc's lore all planned out but maybe this will be a little confusing out of context lol (also english is not my first language so there might be errors)

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Tugdual was having a really, really bad day.

It was 8 in the morning.

To be fair, it was just the continuity of a really, really bad night.

At the very least, the small kitchen of Abakoum's old rehabilitated farm was quiet. After a night filled by screams and clamor, and a few hours spent in the car under a heavy rain with earbuds in but a dead MP3 player, silence was truly a blessing.

Images from the past night were cycling through his mind. Maybe he would place it on top of the "worst night of his life" podium. Of course, it excluded the one where his dad had left – no matter what happened to him, this one would still easily win. He bitterly smiled as he enumerated again the list of people who had given up on him, recently extended. New record. What had he been expecting? He knew it was the only ending for him. He was cursed, rotten to the core. This reaffirmed idea had been carving its way into his chest since the night before, and the pain didn’t look like it would stop any time soon.

But he didn't have time to brood on those thoughts some more; because a boy he had never seen before had just barged in the kitchen.

Short and skinny, he was wearing an oversized, light long-sleeved t-shirt which almost hid his hands completely. His blond hair was a mess, flat on the side: his pale cheek was still marked by a fold in his sheets. Rubbing his puffy sleepy eyes, it took him a few seconds to realize he wasn't alone in the kitchen. He froze, mouth wide-opened, while Tugdual was staring at him, slowly sipping his tea. A few more seconds and he fled abruptly. Tugdual heard his running steps echoing in the hallway, and he almost smiled, amused. Maybe his stay would be a bit more entertaining than he had thought.

Sasha was standing with his back pressed against the wall, heart beating fast, with panting breath, thoughts flying everywhere. He had awoken this morning, gotten up, come down to the kitchen like every day, thinking he would find Abakoum: but instead, he had stumbled upon a young man with black hair and elaborate goth clothes, who was calmly sipping tea. Sitting in his chair. Sasha, hadn’t had a human contact with someone other than his adoptive father since months on top of already being deathly asocial, had simply fled instead of saying hi and asking the million questions swarming his mind: Who are you? Where's my dad? What are you doing in my chair? Etc. And there he was in the hallway, on the first step of the staircases, hesitantly wondering if he should just lock himself in his room and simply wait for the situation to resolve itself.

But as he was starting to seriously consider this appealing idea, a silhouette emerged from the kitchen's doorway: it was the black-haired boy.

“Hello?” he said with a cocky smile.

He was visibly amused from Sasha's confusion. The blond one wanted to answer, but the words were all tangled in his mind, stuck in his throat. Sinister anxiety was filling him, whispering: An intruder. In your house! He couldn't help but see any human presence as a threat – apart for Abakoum, but this exception had taken time do build. Overwhelmed with panic, he thought about running up the stairs, trying to guess if he would have enough time to block his room's door. There was his chair, but he remembered distinctly moving it against his wall to clean his room the night before, so it was far from the door, and he had to get it quickly enough to block the handle, or... no, he wouldn't have the strength to move any other furniture –

“Sasha, you're up!”

The deep, familiar voice pulled him out of his frantic thoughts, and he turned his head to see with relief Abakoum walking up the hallway. The immense silhouette calmed him, and he was finally able to take a deep breath in the hopes of slowing down his painfully fast-beating heart. How humiliating! He was almost having a panic attack just because a stranger – who wasn’t even actively threatening! – had just popped up in his kitchen. How did he do it back then, in the children’s home? Where anyone could barge in his room at anytime while he was sleeping or changing? Had the comfort of Abakoum’s house made him so weak, he couldn’t even tolerate another person’s presence?

Trying to sound casual and totally cool with the situation, he asked:

“Who... who's that?”

The black–haired boy lost his smile. Worry darkened Abakoum's eyes for a second, his forehead frowning subtly. But he smiled and, coming closer to his adoptive son, lay a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Aleksander, this is Tugdual. Tugdual, Aleksander.”

He got closer to the boy and added:

“It was an unexpected visit, I'm sorry if you were startled. Everything's fine.”

Sasha nodded, looking wary. He didn't like this situation at all. Fear was eating away every corner of his mind: but at least he didn't feel directly threatened anymore thanks to the Veilleur’s presence.

“Naftali and Brune just left,” the old man said to « Tugdual ». “They want you to know that they love you.”

“They already told me”, the young man muttered, his face suddenly gloomy.

“They insisted.”

Sasha looked questioningly at his adoptive father, who returned a soft gaze.

“Tugdual lives with his grandparents, Naftali and Brune, who are close friends. But they had an emergency and they cannot house him right now, so he is going to stay with us temporarily.” Observing Sasha as to gauge his reaction, he added softly: “It was very sudden. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you in advance.”

“It's... It's fine,” Sasha stammered.

It wasn't fine at all.

“How about breakfast, now?” cheerfully asked the old man.

The black-haired boy shrugged and disappeared back into the kitchen. Abakoum put his arm around Sasha's shoulders, inviting the young man to walk with him to the kitchen. Feeling his adoptive son slightly trembling against him pained him: but he had to show him now that there was no danger, nothing to fear. Letting him go back upstairs and lock himself in his room would open the way to the boy's crippling anxiety, that he was trying so hard to fight. Sasha gave him a reluctant look, and the old man answered by a calming smile.

“Everything will be fine,” he whispered. “I promise.”

Sasha looked away, a little reassured. As much as fear was trying to make him doubt, one thing he knew was that his dad had never broken a promise.

***

A few minutes later, Sasha was sat at the kitchen's table, not in his chair, sipping the black tea he usually drank in the morning. Squatting on not-his-chair, he had put his hands around the hot mug, and covertly gazed at Tugdual – or rather, the boy he was going to have to live with for an unspecified lenght of time, which was a terrifying thought. He was sat too, arms crossed, looking sombre. Long strands of black hair covered parts of his pale face, and he was absent-mindedly playing with his silver tongue piercing.

Abakoum sat down after putting toasts and jam on the table, holding a cup tea. To his surprise, it was Sasha who broke the weighty silence:

“So... he's gonna live with us?”

His unassured voice didn't help the question's clumsiness.

“He is right there,” grunted Tugdual, rolling his eyes.

“Indeed,” confirmed Abakoum, ignoring the grumpy teenager. “Do you remember Dragomira? Naftali and Brune are mutual friends.”

“Oh,” Sasha said, reassured to at least find one familiar element in this whole thing.

He loved Abakoum, and he loved Dragomira : their friends could only be good people, and by extension, their grandson too...? He glanced again at Tugdual, who was frowning in the perfect pouty expression of a gloomy teen. But he suddenly met his eyes: surprised by their intense steel color, Sasha quickly pretended to be absorbed by the contemplation of his tea infuser.

“By the way, anyone would mind telling me who he is?” the black-haired boy groaned, pointing at him.

Sasha turned to Abakoum, concerned. Had he not told anyone else about him? Without realizing, his heart had started beating fast again, blood pumping to his head as fear had burst again in his stomach. Why? Was he unimportant? Was he going to send him back into foster care? No. He’d rather die than go back.

But the old man gave him a kind smile, and gestured subtly to his throat. "Breathe!" Sasha obeyed, realizing he was losing himself to panic again. He almost sighed from irritation. Feeling like he had no control on any of his thoughts and emotions was incredibly frustrating. It felt like the unexpected situation was sweeping away all the progress he had made since living with Abakoum.

“Naftali and Brune probably told you that I recently adopted,” said the Veilleur, turning to Tugdual.

The young man glared at them successively with arrogance, and shrugged.

“They might have mentioned it.”

“And maybe have you heard of Oden?” Abakoum continued, with strangely enigmatic eyes.

Tugdual noticed it: intrigued without wanting to show it, he didn't answer, but was clearly waiting for more. Sasha laid back on his chair, comfortably curled up on himself, holding his hot mug closer. Even if he already knew in details the history of his biological family, he couldn't help but listen attentively.

“Oden was an old friend of us, I mean me, Dragomira and Leomido. We had found ourselves... well, we lived together in Siberia, as you know, it was decades ago... but Oden followed Leomido’s example, and he decided to leave the deserted, glacial countryside. I can't hold that against him... But unlike Leomido, he didn't go far. He settled in annexed Estonia, got married, had a child…”

The old man's gaze darkened, and he closed his eyes for a second, opening them again to reveal a piercing look.

“Sadly, the country wasn't spared by the tensions that forced us all to migrate West. But Oden wasn't as lucky as us... he was killed while trying to flee, like so many others...”

Sasha took a sip of his tea, and glared – hopefully discreetly – at Tugdual. He was staring at Abakoum attentively, having uncrossed his arms and even leaning slightly towards him.

“But his only daughter, Alina, was able to escape,” the old man continued. “She reached England and was able to build a life for herself.”

Sasha twitched, like every time his biological mother was mentioned. He had almost no memory of her: she had abandoned him to his genitor, who clearly had not wanted to be burdened by a child. In his most likely estimations, she was gone right after his birth. Even though he couldn’t help but search for his deepest memories and find the comfort of thin and soft arms like his, the forgotten tune of a lullaby, and those sparkles of light he couldn’t define the origin of... memories that were perfectly impossible, if she had indeed left him right after his birth – and probably created by his own mind.

“...using the records, and I managed to trace all the way back to Aleksander, and we decided that he would come and live with me,” concluded Abakoum, bringing the boy back to reality.

He turned his head to Tugdual, trying to gauge his reaction. The young man was strangely focused and gazed intensely at Abakoum, who was also looking at him. Sasha frowned slightly, feeling like something was being communicated right under his nose. The old man seemed to answer a silent question by a very subtle nod, and Tugdual's eyes opened slightly, before gazing at Sasha. A little offended to not be included in the conversation, he pretended not to notice and focused on sipping his tea.

---

here you go

THIS IS SO FUCKING AMAZING! Your Tugdual characterisation? Your OC? Your captation of the vibe of Abakoum's house? *chef's kiss* mwah mwah mwah infinite. Like literally your Tugdual has the exact bitterness and catlike fascination with people, your OC is in for a treat (Edefia)... Idk what to say except that is absolutely marvelous and perfect!

I'm so glad you shared it with me!

#i literally have 80 pages of rambling and ideas about this boy #hes like my most developped oc ever #yet i only have about two pages of actually written fanfiction about him

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ash-den · 2 months ago

Text

two hearts and no brain (larry x transmasc reader) #1

posted it on Ao3 but not on tumblr so why not have fun

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There I was. The gates of hell, soon to be opened for my personal damnation. Farewell, …close ones I never had. God would have I been an awful Shakespeare. Despite being so resolutely resigned, I couldn’t help but feel my heart beating faster with apprehension; I surely deserved this torment, I thought as I took another reluctant step towards the school gate.

Coming up with dramatic monologues had always been a way for me to cope with shitty days. And they had been piling up recently, starting with what I can pretty easily call the worst day of my entire life, and ending with me standing up at 7 in the morning in front of my new high school. Mr Sanchez, the school counselor, had used four times total the words “new beginning”. It was his way of making expulsion sound positive. But my parents had apparently taken it quite literally, because a few days later they had decided to make us move out of town. Go all in, I guess. I didn’t really care anymore at that time. There is a point in life where you’ve been so repeatedly hit with increasingly terrible things, that you’re not even upset or angry anymore when shit happens again. Just morbidly curious about what life will throw at you this time. My life was over anyways, so who cared. It was comforting in a way.

But turned out my life was not actually over and I needed to keep on going with the consequences of my own actions. And the anesthetizing doom that had been consoling me while I lethargically packed my stuff and helped my dad charge everything into the movers’ truck had been slowly wearing off. And consequently, it uncovered a mess of tangled feelings that I hadn’t been processing, starting with a debilitating anxiety that had been eating at me ever since the first night in my empty new room. Days spent terrified did not stop the inescapable machine of time, and the ineluctable cogs of a Greek tragedy unfolded my imminent fate: the first day at my new high school.

And to make matters worse, there was this small hope. Here nobody knew. Nobody knew. My heart beat faster with – excitement? Apprehension? – whenever I thought about it. Oh, Mr Sanchez definitely didn’t mean that when he talked about his stupid “new beginning”, but maybe it was my chance to finally try and present as myself. I’d already buzzed my hair in the few dark, dark days that had followed my expulsion, and been beaten by my parents for it… well, not really. Just screamed at for an hour and been stared at for entire minutes like I was actually ready for the mental institution. I was pretty numb for most of it, but still aware enough for the words to cut deep, and that’s why in the moment I would have preferred if they had actually beaten me up to death. But to be fair, at that time I was wishing death upon myself pretty much every second of the day. And I still feel a little guilty when I think about it – my parents would never do anything like that, and I know it. They’re not bad people, they just weren’t prepared to handle a mentally ill transgender teen. And maybe it’s not their fault if they’re always terrible at it. I know I can’t help being the way I am, I’ve been forced to accept it by now – maybe it’s not my fault I’m not normal. What definitely is, though, is that I’ve given up on trying to be.

Which was a large contributory factor to my outfit of the day. I don’t actually think baggy pants and a handmade bleached ribcage hoodie looks that weird, but I guess I have a different definition of what “weird” is. I didn’t even tried to fit in, because I knew from experience that it would not work no matter how much I’d destroy myself trying to. And like most times, giving up was actually kind of comforting.

To be fair, I had tried to look my best this morning – which mostly meant for me “try to pass”. I was already awake at 5, because of the anxiety-induced insomnia, so I had time to take extra care of my appearance; I’d added chains to my pants and my neck, had put on a minimum amount of makeup to make my eyebrows more thick and dark, and had tried to style the buzz cut, but there was not much to do. It did make my face look more defined, and I wasn’t too mad about it. To confirm my impression, mom had said I looked like a boy. She meant it as a degrading remark, but I’d liked it very much. And then she had started arguing with my dad again, and that was when I’d fled the scene.

I took a few more steps towards the rusty gate. In my hurry to escape my parents, I had arrived way too early, and there I was, waiting for those damned doors to finally open so I could throw myself at my own doom. “At least hell is warm”, I grumpily thought while blowing on my frozen bare hands. October wasn’t even over, but it already felt like the middle of winter. In my rush, I had forgotten my MP3 player – as well as half of my school supplies, but who cared about that – and I was left with nothing to ease the nauseating anxiety growing in my chest as I nervously eyed the buildings. Praying that things would be better than at my previous high school – but then again, it was a pretty easy thing to achieve considering the absolute disaster things had been. But “less shitty” is hardly an improvement. Maybe “good” would be a better standard to try and reach – but who was I fooling? I really didn’t count on that.

Trying to distract myself, I took a look at my new high school. Well, “new”, not really considering how ancient it looked. Separated from the outside world by decaying iron fences, the dusty brick-colored buildings sprawled out in a concrete courtyard with rare dry trees as the only decor. Probably didn’t have enough budget for metal-detectors, but maybe they could have at least fixed the very obvious hole caused by the bent fence a few meters from the gates.

I was the only student around. I took a look to my broken watch, deciphering the time through the cracked screen. I wouldn’t be alone for long… the thought made me shiver. I let out a sigh before taking a deep breath, a meager attempt at calming the tide of anguish that overflowed me. I should have been used to it by now, but the anxiety that overwhelmed me was still so freezing. Like ice cubes slowly sliding down my esophagus, nesting in the pit of my stomach. I desperately needed a distraction; I got back to the sheakspearian monologue I’d started, but I’d already forgotten the words. With a modern twist, maybe, something like, “Yup, that’s me. You’re probably wondering how I got here, a trans kid in themiddle of Shithole, NY…”. That was so dumb. And lame. But it did almost make me smile, and I forgot my aching stomach for a second.

Footsteps brought me back to reality. A few kids were approaching the gate; I tried to ignore their voices, staring at the concrete. Soon groups were forming, friends were gathering; talking about homework, maybe the occasional party. I got closer to the school fence and leaned against it, hunched back and hands in my pockets, hoping to go unnoticed. Trying to be as discreet as possible, I took a look at the students gathering around the gate. I didn’t recognize anyone, which was good. One of them stood out, though; it could’ve been because of his bright golden hair, but it was rather because he looked so grumpy that I wouldn’t have been surprised if he frowned even in his sleep. He seemed so irrationally angry for some reason – I guessed I wasn’t the only one absolutely hating my life right now. My eyes lingered on his face; he could’ve been pretty if he didn’t look like he was ready to start barking at any moment. He had a chiseled face, with high cheekbones, and – a weird stain. Right on his higher cheek, near his eye. I squinted, trying to decide if my eyes were just playing tricks on me; but no, his brown skin was darker in that small area, with a very subtle burgundy tone.

That was when he suddenly raised his head, and our eyes met; woops. I immediately pretended to be captivated by the very gray skies. Nothing to see here, I’m just watching the, hum, clouds. Fascinating. I slowly and very unnaturally turned my head, trying to get my eyes as far away as I could from him as if taking him out of my field of view would make my embarrassment go away. It was working pretty well, until I decided to risk an eye – and met his again, except he was closer. I looked away very quickly but had to check again, and yup, he was walking in my direction. He passed by me before I could even think to do anything; between his clenched teeth, I still caught his whisper –“faggot”.

Stunned, all I could think for a second was “How did he know?” But I very quickly remembered the buzz cut, my two lobe piercings, and the rainbow beads safety pin I’d attached on the strap of my backpack after I’d left the house. In retrospect, I guess I did look like a faggot. But it didn’t ease my indignation, and I wondered what to do as I watched him walk away. He didn’t glance at me at all, as if I didn’t exist and he hadn’t just insulted me; I decided to ignore him. That dude looked like he had a gigantic broom up his ass – or at least he should’ve had, he'd probably have enjoyed it. Then I realized, he didn’t called me a dyke! He called me a fag! Which meant I was visibly queer but still passed as a guy!! What exciting news! And there I was, happy to be called a slur. That was probably what rock bottom looked like.

I stared at the boy; he had stopped in front of the gate, now stomping around impatiently, and I took advantage of him turning his back to me to flip him off.

"That's well-deserved," called out a voice to my left.

I jumped and immediately turned around, hiding my hands behind my back as if it would make whoever had seen me forget my raised middle finger.

“Oh, they’re just kids my age”, I first thought, and immediately then “what the fuck. What the fuck”. There were two of them, but all my attention was directed at the shorter one.

To start, they had bright blue hair tied in two ponytails, but I’d seen a few unnatural hair colors out there, so it didn’t phase me. What definitely did, however, was the blank, full-face mask they were wearing. Thick and sturdy-looking, white with a pink color block, attached to their head by wide black straps; carved into a neutral expression, with its flat mouth line. It had two visible holes for the eyes, but I could barely discern their shape under what looked like black mesh.

With a lot of effort, I managed to close my mouth which had been pending open for a few seconds too long. I did not want to be the kind of asshole who judged when I knew nothing about him; but like, damn, though.

"He called me a slur, so yeah, pretty much", I answered with my lowest possible voice, trying to keep a relaxed face.

I didn’t want to stare at the kid with a mask, so I looked over to their friend instead. I guessed he was older than me, because of how short I was compared to him. He was way more than a few inches taller than me; with tanned skin, and noticeably bushy brows. He had strong facial features overall, with a prominent brow bone and large crooked nose, as well as bigger ears than average – but maybe that was due to his stretched lobes, decorated by black tunnels. I liked his long, pulled back brown hair; long hair on boys had always looked so cool to me, and not a little attractive too. Actually, he looked really pretty, if not a little greasy.

"Well that's not anything new," he said as he made eye contact with me. He had dark, kind eyes, and a big mole under one of them. “Travis is that kind of asshole.”

His voice was deep, hoarse, a little broken, as if he had been at a concert the night before. So it had been the other one who had spoken to me first. I tried to ignore it, but I couldn’t not address the elephant in the room.

"Cool mask, dude,” I pointed, refraining from adding half-seriously, “Is it carnival day?”.

His barely visible eyes narrowed, and I couldn’t tell if it was from amusement or irritation.

"It's a prosthetic."

"Oh.”

And I was very glad I’d kept it at what I said.

"So it's like, a medical thing?" I asked – before immediately adding “Wait, never mind, you don’t have to answer. I’m probably the hundredth asshole to ask you, sorry.”

"Thousandth, rather.” This time I could decipher an amused tone in his voice. “But yes, it is a medical thing.”

“I see – sorry, it was kinda insensitive then.”

“It’s fine, I’m used to it.”

“That doesn’t make it better at all.”

The tall guy chuckled, and I looked over to him. That was when I finally noticed his t-shirt, and momentarily forgot about my embarrassment.

“Oh my god, is that a Sanity’s Fall shirt?”

“Dude! You know them?” he exclaimed.

I actually knew maybe two of their songs, one by name only, as I wasn’t the biggest fan of death metal. But the excitement of finding someone with even remotely similar tastes as I did surpassed everything.

“Yeah, I listen to them sometimes.”

“Dude, they’re my FAVORITE band. It’s so rare to find other people who know them.”

He smiled at me. His front teeth had a gap. I felt a little guilty because I actually didn’t know the band that much, but oh well. For the meantime, I returned his smile.

“I didn’t think I’d find any likable people around there.”

“Yeah, I understand considering this shithole of a town, but I think we’re raising the bar.”

It made me chuckle, and warmth spread through my chest.

“Are you new? I don’t think we’ve seen you before,” asked the kid with the blue hair.

“Yeah, I moved here a few days ago.” Just like that, the warmth disappeared.

Maybe I looked more miserable than I would’ve liked, because he added in a compassionate tone, “Sounds rough to change high school when the year’s already started.”

I nodded. He didn’t know how right he was.

“So what’s your name?” inquired the tall boy.

I think he wanted to lightly change the subject, and I was grateful; but, my name. I balanced my weight from one foot to the other. “The new beginning,” I thought, and it gave me enough courage to answer with a clear voice.

It was a little awkward and not that natural, understandably, considering it was the first time I introduced myself with my real name. My insecurities about passing as a boy didn’t help either. They didn’t seem to notice, though.

“I’m Larry”, replied the tall boy. The kid with a mask added, “I’m Sal, but my friends call me Sally Face.”

“I think I can figure out why,” I said with a faint smile, unsure if I was being insensitive again.

“That’s an easy guess”, he answered, and I was relieved to hear the amusement in his voice.

A loud, piercing noise interrupted us. On the other side of the gate, a woman was busy trying to find her keys; the asshole Travis glared at her impatiently. What a douchebag.

"Um, I guess I'm gonna have to find the reception..." I said, staring at the buildings.

Not one indication, not one sign on the damaged walls.

"We can guide you if you want,” offered Sal. "The buildings are kinda tricky to not get lost in."

"Plus that's a good excuse to skip a bit of class," added Larry with a smile. “I am so not motivated to go right now…”

He did look pretty tired despite his smirk, with the purple dark circles carved underneath his eyes.

I thanked them, relieved I didn’t have to ridicule myself asking around for indications.

Groups of students gathered to pass the gate; Larry, Sal, and I were getting closer. I was getting pushed around, but strangely, the other teens didn’t seem so eager to do the same for the two boys. Sal’s mask was definitely a bit creepy, but I thought it looked cool. I wondered what could be so awful underneath that he would need a prosthetic. The librarian back in my old town was a burned victim on most of her body, including over half of her face, and she did not wear a mask.

The students dispersed when they arrived in the courtyard; the boys took the lead and guided me through the buildings. I could feel the stares of the people around us. It weighed on me; making me hyper-aware of my every movement, and suddenly I didn’t know how to walk anymore, what to do with my arms. It felt like everyone was watching and waiting for me to fail in some way. Trying to shake the feeling off, I stuffed my hands in my oversize sweater’s pockets and hunched my back a little as I was walking. I tried to focus on the boys leading the way, and stared at Larry’s hair, which was bouncing on his shoulders as he walked. He had pretty hair, maybe a little dull but very soft-looking, surprising for – and I don’t want to judge – someone who didn’t look like he took extra care of himself.

We arrived in a less-populated section, and the boys lead me to a small building. The front office was directly inside. A man with pepper-and-salt hair greeted me distractedly; taking a deep breath, I gave him my name. Despite all of their flaws, my parents had actually agreed to enroll me in the school with my chosen name added as “common name” or “usage name”, as they called it. Well, I shouldn’t give them too much credit for it either, as they had only agreed to do it after I begged and cried for days – not too proud of myself on that one, but when have I ever been?

My deadname was still somewhere in the files, but hopefully…? “God, if you exist, please don’t out me when I just made friends who see me as a boy and nothing else for the first time in my fucking life.” Maybe they would understand… and maybe they wouldn’t. Like all the others. “It would be a short-lived glory,” I thought as I anxiously watched the man go through his folders.

“Right there”, he mumbled as he took out a paper and handed it to me. It displayed my schedule, and right there at the top, was my name… as only my chosen name, no deadname!

My heart bounced with excitement, I couldn’t believe it. I wasn’t going to be outed just yet. It gave me hope that my deadname wasn’t present either on the teachers’ register list. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough”, I thought, and the excitement faded out.

But suddenly I could feel a presence leaning over my shoulder; a minty breath brushed my neck, strands of hair fell softly on my skin.

“Hey dude! Looks like we’ll be mostly together,” Larry said next to my ear.

Immediately, I got chills, probably from the mild scare he’d just gave me. Despite that, I gave him a big smile. I couldn’t help but feel an ounce of hope blooming deep, deep inside my chest. Maybe Mr Sanchez wasn’t so full of shit after all.

***

First period was math, which we didn’t share, but the boys offered to guide me to the classroom – the idea of hanging out a bit more before class seemed really appealing to Larry. They showed me around while we walked through the blank corridors; I could feel my heart beating faster and faster as we approached the classroom, and it was racing when we reached the door. I took a deep breath to try and manage it, which didn’t go unnoticed. Larry put his hand on my shoulder – he was so tall that he could probably have used me as an armrest – and gave me a friendly pat; Sal threw me an encouraging hand sign. Reluctantly, I knocked on the door.

The wooden panel opened onto a rather small, elderly lady. I caught her slight widening of eyes when she saw Sal, but she quickly pulled herself together.

“The bell rang ten minutes ago,” she said, brows furrowed. “Also, I don’t think this is your classroom, boys.”

“We were helping the new kid find the class,” said Sal.

She looked at me up and down with noticeably judgmental eyes, but ended up nodding and gesturing me to come in.

“Alright. As for you, boys, you quickly rejoin your class. No hanging around in the corridors, and I’ll know if you did!”

“Of course, Miss,” said Larry with an unaffected smile.

He made eye contact as Sal waved goodbye before they turned around and left; I felt my stomach tie in knots as I watched them walk away. I entered the class, suddenly face to face with a see of staring eyes. Lowering my gaze to my shoes, I quickly glanced at the class again to find a free desk, and started heading for the only one I noticed.

“Not so fast, young man, I need your name!”

I froze while sneers echoed around me, and slowly turned around to walk over to the teacher’s desk, trying to ignore the burn spreading in my cheeks. At least I'd passed, but I was a bit too embarrassed to be truly happy about it. She pulled out the attendance sheet, and to my relief, there was no trace of my deadname. Instead, my chosen name was printed somewhere around the middle; I pointed it to her, and quickly turned to go and sit down. Keeping my eyes on the ground, I tried to ignore the world reverberating around me, the sweat in my back, the warmth of my face, my heartbeat echoing through my body. And then I’d reached the empty chair; I dropped in it, relieved to at least not have tripped. I made an attempt at those breathing techniques that were supposed to calm me; count to 5 as you’re breathing in, count to 5 as you breath out. A quick glance at the rest of the class told me they were staring, the sea of eyes pointed at me again. Among them, the blond boy who insulted me this morning – whom Larry called Travis. I got stuck for a few seconds on his face; he stared at me with such a disgusted expression, something I had never seen in someone I didn’t even know.

“What's his fucking problem…” I muttered, shifting my attention on trying to get the few supplies I had out of my bag.

A whisper answered me.

“If you’re talking about Travis, don’t worry, he hates everyone.”

I turned to face the boy sat next to me, who was looking at me through big round glasses. He shook his head in disbelief, short ginger curls bouncing around.

“Especially people who don’t fit in his… conservative views…” he added in a judgmental tone.

“Well I should be proud of that, I guess,” I whispered back sarcastically.

He let out a quiet chuckle. “I’m Todd. You already met Sal and Larry, so?”

“Yeah, cool dudes.” I said before introducing myself.

“Boys! Quiet over there!” called the teacher, and we both shut up, Todd suddenly absorbed by his blank notebook page.

I still felt eyes all over me; their stares passed through my clothes, burning my naked skin. Letting out a sigh, I started taking notes of everything the teacher was saying without really thinking about it; and soon the burning went away.

***

I had less trouble finding my next classes thanks to the indications Larry and Sal had given me earlier, and the morning unfolded without a hitch. I was still a little late to the last lesson before lunch time, but passing through the – luckily – still opened door, I had the surprise of finding Sal and Larry sat at the back of the class. The only empty desk was a row in front of them, and I quickly walked towards it.

The boys happily greeted me, Sal asked how the morning went and Larry high-fived me. I barely had the time to answer that the teacher was already asking for calm, and I had to turn my back to them.

I was sat right in front of Larry. Maybe I was overthinking it, but I couldn’t help but feel his stare on my back. Just like earlier: and it made me just as uncomfortable, but in a different way. For the first time I felt insecure about my arched back and, hyper-aware of my posture, I wiggled around every five minutes to try and keep my back straight. To make things worse, I could hear them whispering behind me. I tried not to listen because it was none of my business, but not understanding what they were saying woke up the dreadful fear that they were talking about me, and I was freezing every time I thought I heard my name. I tried to immerse myself in the Macbeth excerpt the teacher has given us, but failed.

When the bell finally rang, I carelessly threw my stuff into my backpack, exhausted by the hour of anxiety and stress I’d just spent. Larry was already on his feet, I think he had started packing ten minutes ago. As I saw they were talking together, I took a deep breath and approached them.

“Can I come to eat with you guys? I’m still having trouble finding my way around,” I casually asked.

Pathetic excuse, but I desperately wanted to know them better. Which was even more pathetic.

“Sure, dude,” Larry answered. “We’re going to the cafeteria to meet with friends, if we find them.”

I followed them out of the classroom, and into the corridors, as we made small talk about the boring hour we’d just had.

I was expecting more students to be eyeing Sal; but even if they avoided looking at his mask directly, I could distinctly hear them whispering as we passed by. I sighed in annoyance. It wouldn’t have bothered me as much if they were talking about me – actually, it would’ve probably made me much more anxious. But because I knew the vicious whispers were about Sal, I felt weirdly offended on his behalf.

The irritation building up in my chest was too much and I let out, maybe a little louder than I’d meant to, “Are they always like this?” as I pointed my thumb behind me.

Sal and Larry both stared, then seemed to understand what I was talking about.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Sal brushed off. “But you know, I get it, it’s weird. And as long as they’re not actively insulting me face to face, I don’t really care.”

“Still,” I protested, “It must be wearing at some point.”

“Again,” he let out a little laugh, “I’m used to it.”

I thought his laugh sounded sad, but I didn’t mention it; it wasn’t my place to ask.

“What a bunch of idiots.”

Sal turned his mask to me, and I couldn’t see it but I could swear that he was smiling.

“Agreed,” loudly proclaimed Larry.

He puts his hands open around his mouth and before I could ask what he was doing, he yelled, “YOU’RE ALL IDIOTS, YOU KNOW THAT?”

Everyone turned to look at us, and we laughed in unison as we passed them by; and I felt invincible.

***

The line to get into the cafeteria looked pretty slow, but we settled in anyway. As we were chatting to pass the time – Larry had started a debate about whether the depressed English teacher was so sad because of a divorce or because of his marriage – , I heard a voice call out to us.

“Sal! Larry!”

I turned my head to see a girl with long brown hair and a thin face quickly making her way towards us. I recognized her; she was in one of my classes this morning. She overtook the kids behind us – they glared at her, one of them weakly tried to stop her by stretching out their arm – and she gracefully avoided it as if it wasn’t even there, joining us. Larry held his fist and she bumped it.

“How are you, Ash?” asked Sal.

“French class was hell but that’s nothing new,” she said, before noticing me. “Oh, I see you’ve picked up a friend on the way.” She looked at me up and down; her eyes were the shiniest green I’d ever seen. “You were in French too, right?”

“Yeah,” I confirmed. “It wasn’t that bad though.”

“When you’re not dyslexic, no, probably not,” she deplored. “Maybe it’d be easier if their words didn’t look like they picked the letters at random. But oh well. What’s your name?”

I introduced myself again: it got easier every time.

“So you’re new,” she said. “Oh, I’m sorry you had to come to this damned school.”

“It’s alright. So far I’ve met cool people, and I’ve only been called a slur once.”

“Already?! By who?”

“Travis, of course,” Larry answered for me. “Who else?”

“A lot of people,” she groaned. “What happened?”

“Not much, he just called me a fag the first time I saw him.” Testing out the waters, I added, “Not that he’s wrong though.”

Sal and Larry chuckled. Success?

“What an asshole,” Ash sighed. “He’s been a jerk to us too, don’t worry about him.”

“Yeah, he’s had me in his sights basically since the first time he saw me,” confirmed Sal. “Called me a tranny more than once. I guess he doesn’t like the pigtails. And the blue hair.”

“And the skirt,” added Larry.

“What?” I laughed, interested.

“I lost a bet.”

“Against me,” smiled Ash proudly. “But it suited you really well.”

I could’ve guessed that Sal was somewhat gender non-conforming, but it really confirmed to me that the group was open-minded, and probably queer, which comforted me.

We kept on chatting, slowly making our way up the line. I got myself a plate of the most dry-looking rice I’d ever seen, accompanied by a sad small piece of fish.

My tray in hand, I walked through the door to the sitting area. The room was large but with a low roof, lending it a claustrophobic feeling, which was not helped by the fact that most of the tables arranged in lines were already taken. I waited for the others, a little intimidated.

“C’mon, there’s a table over there,” said Ash as she passed by me, accompanied by Sal and Larry.

I quickly followed them, careful of where I was stepping – my worst nightmare was probably tripping and falling right in the middle of the cafeteria. As I was making my way to the table, I thought about how the idea of this exact moment had caused me multiple anxiety attacks the day before. Standing with my tray, not knowing where to go, as the noises and stares and laughs were swallowing me whole. It had gotten so bad that the only way to calm me down had been to decide I wouldn’t even bother going to the cafeteria at all. I’d go in the restroom or stay in a corner of the yard, where it’d be safe and quiet. And there I was, not even having considered the thought before going to lunch. How nice it is to not be alone.

I joined the others; Sal and Ash were sitting face to face, so I sat in front of Larry, who had already started gulping down his rice.

“I’ll pass,” said Ash with disgust as she eyed the fish.

Instead, she searched her bag and took out a small Tupperware full of pasta salad.

I pick up my fork and started digging into the rice. It wasn’t that bad taste-wise, because it tasted like nothing, but a few of the grains were rock-hard.

“Is Todd gonna join us?” asked Ash as she served everyone water – I thanked her when she filled my glass.

“I don’t think so, I think he’s out to eat with Neil,” replied Sal.

“Ooo, well at least one of us’ love life is going well.” She eyed me. “What about you? Anything happening on that side?”

I shook my head.

“I’m afraid that field is abysmally empty.”

“God, I can’t believe fucking Todd is gonna be the first of us to get laid,” despaired Larry.

I burst out laughing, and so did Ash and Sal.

“I mean, he made his moves,” remarked the blue-haired boy after he had calmed down. “He tried his chance and won.”

“Well maybe to shoot my shot I need someone to direct it at,” Larry replied as he leaned against the back of his chair, eyeing the rest of the room. “But it’s deserted here,” he added, then looked at me. “Was it better in your old high school?”

“No, it was definitely worse.” Here there was at least one guy with long hair and good taste in music, and he was sitting right in front of me.

“So you just moved to Nockfell?” asked Ash, curious. “You come from far away?”

“Not at all, we actually lived pretty close. Something like a one hour drive.”

“Oh, so it must have been easier.”

“Maybe, but I think I’d have preferred if we had moved like, in another state entirely,” I sighed.

“Why’s that?” asked Larry.

“Well, I went to a private middle school, and a few people were from Nockfell, and hum – I don’t really want to see them.”

I didn’t even get to reap the benefits of moving; not knowing anyone, resetting your reputation, the “fresh start”. I only had the cons. But so far I’d seen no one I knew so, fingers crossed?

“Must’ve been quite the school for people to go so far to attend,” remarked Sal.

“Yeah, it’s even crazier considering how much it fucking sucked.”

They all chuckled.

“Being a queer kid in catholic middle school is actually my definition of hell,” said Ash, and my heart jumped a little – I noted that I needed to ask more about it. “And I only did one year before my parents made me change.”

“Why did they do that?” I asked, surprised; mine were the entire reason I’d went there.

“I made them understand that I would not survive if I stayed,” she laughed, but I could tell she wasn’t joking. “That’s what they get for thinking it would be better than public school.”

“In the end we’re doing pretty alright, aren’t we?” said Sal.

“Yeah, I’m glad we found each other,” Ash smiled, and I noticed that she seemed to be talking about her and Sal more than she was about the group.

We kept chatting as we emptied our plates. Looking around, my eyes fell onto Sal, just as he was lifting his semi-unbuckled mask over his mouth, fork hovering near. I immediately turned to look to Larry, but I still had the time to notice the boy freezing in place as he crossed my gaze, and I felt bad – like I just saw something I shouldn’t have, when I didn’t even see anything.

“So, do you think we have other classes together?” I asked Larry, trying to hide my embarrassment.

“Dunno, dude,” he said, mouth full. “You have your schedule?”

I searched my bag, and handed him the piece of paper. He put down his fork to grab it.

“No, doesn’t looks like it.”

“What else did you take beside French?” asked Sal.

I took a look at him: his mask was back on and it looked like he was done eating. I think he wanted to ease the awkward moment there just had been between us, and I happily answered.

Everyone had finished, and we decided to keep the conversation going outside where it would be less noisy. As we left our trays in the designated area and headed for outside through a corridor, I passed by a bathroom and notified the others I needed a minute and to wait for me outside.

I headed for the boys’ bathroom, not too uncomfortable since it looked like it was empty. But coming out of the stall, I had the bad surprise of coming face to face with Travis, who had just entered. How lucky.

He stared and, uncomfortable, I decided to ignore him and go wash my hands.

“You..”

I wasn’t expecting him to talk to me, so I jumped when he spoke.

“You’re hiding something. I don’t know what it is but I’ll find it.”

He wanted so hard to sound menacing, it made me laugh. The only thing I was hiding were my boobs, squashed by two sports bras each a size too small. Good job, asshole.

He didn’t seem too happy that I wasn’t taking him seriously.

“Yeah, laugh while you still can!” he furiously added. “When I find out what you’re hiding, you can be certain the whole school will hear about it, even your new little fag group. And if it’s anything illegal... I won’t have to look at your stupid queer ass here ever again.”

"You’re the one looking at my ass, isn’t that pretty gay?" I replied, unimpressed.

Unexpectedly, he didn’t answer, just glared at me before storming out without even having taken a piss. Well, he certainly was not the first asshole I had had to deal with, but to think I seemed to have made an enemy on my first day of school didn’t make me too confident either. And it’s not like I was actually hiding something. Nobody had asked me anything, therefore I had never lied, right?

--------

more chapters are posted already on Ao3 @/ash_den

#sally face #larry x reader #larry x transmasc reader #transmasc reader #sally face fanfiction #larry johnson #larry x ftm reader #ftm reader

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