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valhallanrose · 3 years

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Canary in a Coal Mine

When Senga Canonach takes the mantle of Baroness, eleven-year-old Catriona receives the first true explanation of what it means to be the oldest of her cousins.

Some notes: Catriona/Astoria uses both she and they pronouns (she throughout this particular fic), while Avery Maollosa is strictly they/them. Both are nonbinary.

Edrine (she/they/he), who is only mentioned in this fic, is genderqueer (referred to with they/them pronouns here) and will make a full appearance in the next fic.

4.3k. I am unsure how to best label this, but for now, Cautionary CW for feelings and imagery of entrapment as a result of particularly controlling parental behavior.

Fic Title: Canary in a Coal Mine by The Crane Wives

One thousand, two hundred and twelve.

It was the number of individual pieces in the stained glass window above the stairwell, the one depicting their ancestor, Cliamon - their blade raised high overhead in a moment of triumph in they and their compatriots claiming of the territory that would become home to the Canonach family and all the relatives in between. Cliamon had been a force to be reckoned with, and for all the reading they’d done in their lessons, Catriona adored the stories of such a massive figure they could find such a connection to.

Catriona also thought Cliamon would laugh at the prospect of one of their descendants waiting like a loyal puppy at the top of the stairs for someone to fetch her.

Ever since Astor’s death, their mother had grown fearful, the leash tightening so much that Catriona felt she could have choked. Even though his death had been somewhat anticipated, it had left a shadow on Senga Canonach, and left Catriona to deal with the fallout.

Which was why she was left alone, at the top of the stairs, waiting for someone to pass by that could escort her down. It was her mother’s rule that she were not to walk up or down the stairs alone, so that someone might catch her if she slipped, and it was her mother’s rule that she could never leave the estate without an approved escort. The group of approved escorts was extraordinarily small, even though the majority of the family had volunteered, which left Catriona within the boundaries of Castle Kintyre and the gardens beyond the doors.

She was pulled out of her reverie with the familiar sound of what she knew was a silver-tipped cane on tile, and beamed down at her grandmother as she approached the bottom of the stairs.

“There you are, granny! Mother said you were coming home for the ceremony, but I was getting worried! When did you get here?"

“Oh, only last night, dear, and I got in late. You were already asleep, or I’d have said hello.” Myrna smiled as she made her way up the steps, surmounting the last and leaning in to press a kiss to Catriona’s brow. “There was some unexpected flooding on the roads through Ardaleith, but they were kind enough to let me stay a few nights at Ironhearth. I actually came with Baronet Avery and the Lady Rima. Little Edrine isn’t feeling well, so they’re home with their governess, but they wanted me to say hello to you. So...hello from Edrine.”

“Oh, I’ll have to ask them to say hi for me, too. Maybe I can write Edie a letter. I’ve always liked them.” Catriona giggled as Myrna straightened her collar, laying it neatly against the soft navy wool of her sweater.

“Well, they seem to like you, too. I think they’d love a letter. You can even borrow my signet ring for the seal.” Myrna reached down to carefully smooth out the hem of her sweater, then smiled, one hand drifting up to cradle Catriona’s cheek in her palm. “Don’t you look dashing? Did you have any trouble with the kilt?”

“A little, but I think I got it. I poked myself with the pin a few times, though. Does it look okay?”

Her grandmother indicated loosely with a finger, and when they turned obediently in a circle, they were met with a broad smile and a nod from the woman in question.

“Perfect. Now all you need…” Myrna tutted softly as she dug in her dress pocket, withdrawing a hair comb and offering it to the child. “I’d love to see that pretty face of yours. May I?”

Eagerly, Catriona turned, tracing her fingertips over the comb’s arch - made up of two hands cradling a crowned heart - and, when Myrna was finished twisting her hair up and off the back of her neck, passed it back to her so she could slide the prongs neatly into her hair.

“There we are. Fit to rub elbows with some nobility, I think.” Myrna offered her hand to the child, which she eagerly took, the other hand resting on the heavy wooden bannister out of habit. “Shall we be off, then? We might be the subject of a search party if your mother doesn’t see us in our seats.”

* * * * *

The late spring breeze gently ruffled a few loose strands of hair framing Catriona’s face, turning their face toward the carefully trimmed hedges and the beds of colorful blooms in the butterfly garden. Bluebells and thistle, honeysuckle and heather, lavender and primrose, all only a small fragment of the sprays that covered this portion of the estate.

Sitting through any sort of formal ceremony was painful for a child her age, but what stuck out to her the most was when her mother - in her crisp, emerald suit with the Canonach tartan pinned at her shoulder - lowered herself to one knee, and then the other in the garden gazebo. It made her Aunt Malvina nearly tower over Senga, even though Aunt Malvina was already tall, and made Catriona’s mother seem so small when Malvina raised the diadem before them all and laid it upon Senga’s brow.

After the ceremony, when the guests followed in Senga’s shadow with raucous cheers and excited chatter toward the banquet hall, Catriona found herself drawn to the gazebo as the garden became comparatively empty. At the center of it was a flat stone, one that they knew had been torn from the earth at Mistwatch, with two indentations right beside one another in the exact place her mother had knelt.

Catriona lowered herself to the ground and smoothed a hand over the stone, her fingers dipping into the imprints and smoothing over the echo of dozens of knees before her mother’s had fallen there.

In the same spot as Barons and Baronesses and Baronets many times over, her mother had knelt upon the stone, a fragment of Rosinmoor, and accepted the crown from Malvina as if it had been made for her head.

And in a way, it had, forged in the fires of Ardaleith and delivered by Clan Maollosa upon their arrival the night prior. No two leaders wore the an identical crown, rather, Malvina had given up her own and allowed it to be reforged as an acknowledgement of the new reign to begin. Cliamon had worn no crown - the tradition began with their son, Donacha Carleigh - but their claymore had been passed down through generations, and it had laid in their mother’s hands as she swore to lead Kintyre with the honor and grace of all who had come before her.

She couldn’t help but wonder how many more would come after her mother.

Footsteps drew them out of their daze and made them look up - very far up, they realized, until they smiled with recognition and waved at the person in question.

“Hello, Baronet Maollosa. Am I in your way?”

They chuckled, smoothing a few stray hairs out of their face and lowering themself to sit on the steps of the gazebo.

“No, you’re alright. And Avery is just fine, remember?” They gently nudged her with their elbow, then extended their hand, cupcake carefully balanced on the small porcelain plate. “Saved you a cupcake. Your grandmother said you might be out here, and they were going fast. You like salted caramel, don’t you?”

Catriona blinked once, twice, hesitantly looking between Avery’s gentle smile and the swirl of frosting adorning the cupcake itself. It looked so unassuming, but...when was the last time she’d eaten something without her mother telling her to wait until someone else could taste her food?

“Granny said it’s okay?” She said after a moment, and Avery nodded, dragging the tip of their pointer finger over their chest twice.

“Cross my heart. I’d swear on my mother’s grave, but my mother is still alive, so that doesn’t hold very much weight in regard to a promise.”

Catriona couldn’t help but giggle, gingerly accepting the cupcake and starting to peel away the paper wrapping on the outside. “Thank you, Baronet - Avery. Thank you, Avery.”

They scooted forward slightly so they could set their feet on the steps and the plate in their lap, humming softly as they peeled away the paper and swept a finger through the frosting. Beside them, Avery leaned back on their hands, sighing softly as they looked up at the rare cloudless sky.

“Edrine was all torn up about not coming today.” They mused, and Catriona nodded, making sure to swallow her bite before answering.

“Granny said they weren’t feeling well, so it’s okay. I don’t mind waiting to see them. Maybe they can visit when they feel better? Granny said next time, she’ll show us how we can set up a fort in the library, so long as we put the books back where they belong if we take them.”

“I think Edrine would like that very much.” Avery ruffled Catriona’s hair lightly, a smile playing at their lips when she huffed and tried to smooth her bangs back out.

There were a few long beats of pause as Avery watched Catriona, the way she carefully picked at her hair and adjusted it so it looked presentable again.

They’d always liked her - she was quiet, certainly, but she wasn’t shy. Avery had realized long ago that she chose simply not to speak if she had nothing to say, and if she did, sometimes what came out of her mouth made them bite their hand so hard it left marks for trying not to laugh.

Really, she’d won Avery over when eight year old Catriona called them a ‘lily-livered arse’ at the dinner table for taking the last sticky toffee pudding. It had made them laugh so hard their chest hurt, and in an attempt to form a truce with the child, offered to split it with her instead.

It had been a fair offering, it seemed, as they’d never been called such a thing again.

“You know, I’ve never thanked you before.” They mused, dropping back onto their elbows before lowering themself to lay on the floor of the gazebo. “Edrine doesn’t have any siblings, and their cousins are all quite younger than them, so making a friend their age means the world to them. They look up to you - bloody better than the Griogal boy, don’t tell anyone I said that - and I am happy that they won’t have to walk this path alone.”

Catriona paused, tilting her head as she used the back of her hand to wipe the frosting away from her mouth. “What do you mean?”

Avery raised a brow, fingers lacing together to rest over their abdomen where they lay. “In regard to the Barony. You and Edrine are in a unique position, being so close in age and both with clear claims to your respective titles. It can be hard to live that life, there’s no doubt about that, but thankfully your mother and I are young enough to give you both plenty of time to find your way before that.”

Catriona stopped mid bite of the treat they had been given, their stomach suddenly heavy and the taste soured in their mouth.

Her mother had said something like that, once, a hand placed on either of her cheeks and her rings - one a heavy opal from Catriona’s stepfather, the other the Canonach family signet - cold against her skin.

You’re in a special place, sweet Catriona. One day Kintyre will be at your feet, but you cannot forget the difficulty you will face when it happens. I only hope I can give you enough time to find the way you need to go.

She swallowed slowly, then set the cupcake aside, half finished and suddenly not as appetizing.

“What are you talking about?”

There were a few beats of pause before Avery sat up straight, a concerned look clear on their face as they turned to look her in the eye.

“Catriona...honey, has your mother not told you?” They asked gently, and slowly, she shook her head. Avery sighed heavily, raking a hand through their hair before letting their elbows fall to rest on their knees. Catriona shifted, resting her hands on one of Avery’s arms and giving them a pleading look that made them suck in a breath through their teeth.

“I don’t know, kiddo, I don’t want to upset Senga if she wants to have that talk -”

“I deserve to know.” The child said firmly, even as their eyes began to prickle with tears, even as their lower lip noticeably began to quiver. “It’s my life, too. It’s not fair to keep things from me.”

A part of her knew any child in Rosinmoor would have been delighted to have a life at any of the seven estates, and Catriona wasn’t oblivious to the privilege she had been given. But even if it were gilded in gold, a cage was still a cage, and Castle Kintyre had become hers. She envied her cousins, free to go where they want and do what they please, envied the stories of Rosafearn and longed to explore on her own, but it hadn’t been a part of the hand she had been dealt.

But maybe...maybe if they knew what frightened their mother so much, they could try and ease her worries, and get a little more freedom in turn.

At her desperate yet hopeful expression, Avery let out a frustrated sigh, propping their chin in their hands.

“Your mother should have absolutely told you by now, but that’s a grievance I’ll take up with her. You’re eleven, you’re long since capable of at least understanding.” They grumbled, clearly irate, then straightened, tone softening as they addressed her again. “Catty, what do you know about the line of succession?”

“I know everyone’s names. There were a lot of people before Auntie Malvina.”

“Everyone?”

Catriona nodded eagerly. “Yes, from the family tree book in the library. There’s Cliamon, of course, and then Donacha Carleigh, Muiri Lùtair, Juliet Lùtair, and then -”

“Okay, everyone, I believe you.” Avery held up a hand, an amused look on their face. “Stars, my uncle would have loved you. I couldn’t remember what I had for breakfast when I was your age, let alone the whole family tree. But what I meant was if you know how each leader is chosen?”

She had to pause at that, brows furrowing, trying to recall back to that book - they knew it well, the carefully bound leather and the tattered navy ribbon tucked between the pages - but couldn’t remember anything like that from what they’d read. It was always simply passed from family member to family member, but minimal explanation as to why.

“I don’t know.” She said eventually, and that sinking feeling grew somewhat heavier. “I thought it was because she just got married, I guess. I know when Aunt Malvina became Baroness, she had just gotten married to Aunt Lorraine, and mother just got married to James, but now that I think about it, I don’t remember if that was the same for great grandma Sorcha…”

Avery nodded slowly, setting a reassuring hand on Catriona’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “It makes sense. Don’t stress, Catty, it’s a reasonable conclusion. Would you like me to explain how it works?”

When Catriona nodded, they continued, eyes fixed on a vibrantly colored butterfly bush just beyond where their feet rested.

“I’m the oldest of three, so the Barony was going to pass to me no matter how many siblings I had. But my uncle, the last Baron, was older than my father, so he was the heir. And before him it was my grandmother, the Baroness, who was the oldest, and then her aunt, and so on and so forth. But the one thing they had in common was that they were each the oldest of their generation of the family, and thus, the crown passed to them.”

Catriona felt as if they could have been sick.

“Because they were the oldest.” She echoed, oblivious to Avery’s nod, as the realization dawned on them.

She was the oldest of all their cousins. Sachairi was the same age - eleven - but was a few months younger, born in November to Catriona’s September. That distinction was made clear to Catriona at a young age by their mother, but they never understood why, nor did they particularly care for that exact reason.

Their chest squeezed, and it felt as if they couldn’t breathe, thinking back to all the changes they had witnessed since her mother had been announced as the next Baroness. She had a handful of ladies in waiting, like Malvina, and advisors and guards and never being alone and never leaving the palace without an escort just in case, because it was ‘better to be safe than sorry”.

Catriona hated that phrase. It was the reminder she received every time she complained about any of her mother’s rules, because mother only wanted her to be as safe as possible, and she would rather be overprotective than risk something happen to her because she wasn’t safe enough.

But knowing this, now? They felt as if they had no chance of leaving the cage at all. When she was old enough to choose to leave, she’d have to stay, because being the oldest meant you were supposed to be the Baronet.

“But I know everyone’s name. Malvina wasn’t the oldest, Uncle Ualan was. And Aunt Grace and Cameron are both older than mother, so maybe our family is different? Maybe it doesn’t have to be the oldest, maybe I don’t - I don’t -” Catriona’s chest heaved, and she let out something between a wail and a whimper, making Avery jump as she began to cry. “I don’t want this, Avery, I don’t…”

Quickly, Avery scooped them up, pulling them into a tight embrace and gently rubbing her back to try and soothe her as she sobbed into the starched white collar of their shirt.

“Okay, okay...Catty, breathe, honey, I need you to breathe for me. Deep breath in, deep breath out, okay?” Look at me.”

Slowly, Catriona looked up, and Avery dug a kerchief from their pocket, offering it to her when she dragged the back of her hand across her cheek.

“You like your words, right? I have one I want you to remember. Can you do that for me?”

When she nodded, Avery gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Abdicate. It means to renounce, or give something up. I want you to remember that word, because you have a long time before you need to make the choice, but I want you to know that you have the choice - but abdicate is the word we use for saying we don’t want the title. It means you give it up to the next person, and they get to decide what to do. Your uncle Ualan probably abdicated - you’d have to check, but if he's older, it’s what makes sense - and I know your Aunt Grace and Cameron did. And I’m sorry that I had to be the one to tell you this, but you’re right, it is your life, and you deserved to know. I know it’s a lot to take in, but I hope that knowing all the options means you can make the right decision later, when the time comes, because you deserve that much. Okay?”

She sniffled quietly, rolling her lip between her teeth, the simple white kerchief twisting between her hands as Avery leaned back to get a better look at her face.

“Do you want to go find your mother?”

“No.” Catriona murmured, their grip almost white knuckled on the kerchief in question. “I don’t want to ruin her day. She’ll get upset.”

The ‘with me’ was unspoken, but Avery seemed to notice, brow creasing as their gaze fell to her tight hands and gently laid a hand over hers to try and ease the tension there.

“What about your grandmother? I saw Myrna just before I came out, she was speaking with the Lord Consort Griogal, so she shouldn’t be hard to find given he’s wearing something of a peacock blue today -”

“I don’t want to go inside.” Catriona blurted out. “I...I’m sorry, Baronet, I shouldn’t ask you to -”

“Avery.” They squeezed her hand again, this time a little more firmly - not harshly, or painfully, but enough to make her look them in the eye as they gave her a comforting smile. “You’re not asking the Baronet to do anything. You’re asking your friend’s parent for help, and that’s a perfectly acceptable thing to do. Would you like me to ask your grandmother to come outside?”

The child nodded, and Avery stood up, ruffling her hair gently before they stepped down onto the path again.

“Stay here, sweetheart, it’ll be easier for her to find you that way. Shouldn’t be long.”

As Avery began the trek back to the great hall, they couldn’t help but glance back, watching Catriona slump against the rails along the gazebo steps and picking up the pace to cross the stones a little quicker.

* * * * *

Once Myrna had slipped from the great hall, Avery couldn’t help but drift toward the broad windows overlooking the garden, following the small shape of the older woman until she came within sight of the gazebo and Catriona’s even smaller form leapt up and raced to meet her halfway. Myrna scooped her up and carried her further into the garden - and Avery found themself staring at the point where they disappeared, away from the gazebo and away from the castle to somewhere unknown. They were only broken from their reverie when arms wrapped around their waist, and had it not been such a familiar

“Hello, darling.” Rima murmured, pressing a kiss to the back of their shoulder and lacing her fingers together over Avery’s abdomen. “You were gone for a while. Did you get lost in the gardens?”

“No, I was talking to Senga’s bairn. She wants Edrine to visit when they feel better.”

“Well, hopefully it’s soon.” Rima hummed softly, pressing her cheek to Avery’s back and giving them a squeeze as the music in the hall shifted to a new melody. “We should probably stop in Rosafearn before we travel home. They’ve got the candies Edie likes in one of the shops down there, it might cheer them up about missing the party.”

When Avery didn’t reply, Rima frowned, slipping around their side and tucking herself under her partner’s arm to get a better look at their face.

“What’s wrong, Ave? You have that...face.”

Avery chuckled, turning their head to kiss Rima’s temple. “What face? You like my face.”

“I do like your face, but this is the ‘I’m having a crisis and maybe my dear wife can help’ face, and I am the dear wife.” She smiled cheekily as she pinched their side, glancing out the window briefly to see if she could find what they were fixated on and coming up with nothing. “Spill, spouse.”

After a few beats of pause, Avery sighed, leaning their cheek against Rima’s forehead and closing their eyes. “How much do you know about Senga?”

“Not much, she’s a little more than simply closed off. New Baroness, obviously. If you want to know about her, you might have better luck with Myrna or her husband. Or maybe Malvina, if you’re wondering about politics.”

“Mm. I thought so. Perhaps we should invite Myrna to stay with us again. I have questions, but...I’m not sure I should ask Senga, or I might make something worse.”

Rima pulled back slightly, brows furrowing and earrings tinkling as she tilted her head in curiosity. The wordless question made her spouse nod, glancing around to make sure they had no eavesdroppers before they continued.

“Earlier, when I was talking to Catty...I mentioned that Edrine looks up to them because they’re in the same position. And she had absolutely no idea what I meant, but essentially I explained that I meant because they were both heirs, and she just...completely panicked. I think if I’d gone much further than I did she’d have a full panic attack right there in the garden.”

“She had no idea? We started talking to Edrine about it when they were eight for just that reason, so they weren’t blindsided by it.”

“Not a clue. And the way she reacted when I asked if she wanted her mother, it just…” Avery blew out a frustrated sigh. “Something doesn’t feel right, Rima, and I know it’s not my business, but -”

“If it were Edrine, you’d want someone to look out for them, too. I know.” Rising up on her toes, Rima kissed Avery’s cheek. “Myrna already asked to travel back through Ardaleith with us. Let’s get through the night, and tomorrow, we’ll figure out the next step.”

“Alright…alright.” Avery was quiet for a few moments before they spoke again, warm smile on their face. “What would I do without you?”

“Suffer, more than likely.” Rima lifted a hand as if to inspect her nails, her wedding bands flashing in the low light. “Or at the very least be bored out of your mind at formal functions. Admit it, I’m the life of the party no matter where I go.”

With a laugh, Avery pulled Rima into a tight embrace, ignoring her playful protests and peppering the top of her head with kisses before they set their chin on her head. Their gaze eventually drifted out the window again to the spot where Myrna and Catriona had disappeared, thinking of that white-knuckled grip she had had on the kerchief.

But she’d be okay. She had Myrna, now, and Avery couldn’t think of anyone the child would want more for comfort considering how close they were.

Avery just hoped Catriona would be okay long enough for them to do something.

#astoria fenharrow #today on i write fic and i want to beat up senga

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enby-hawke · 3 years

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Happy Trans Day of Visibility

For my new followers on my blog hello, I’m Jonzen, a queer pinay. I have ze/zir pronouns. So ze goes in place of she and zir for her. (I do not use any other pronouns including they/them so yea sorry not sorry get used to it)

Just a little blurb and wave before I get back to drawing and writing. I’m married to a lovely trans lady and we’re both trying to survive the pandemic in america

My health has been bad so I’m working slowly but I have been taking commissions starting at $6 to help keep us afloat.

My dream is also to be a comic creator so if you’re interested in supporting trans art I am practicing with a dragon age comic starring Lucky Hawke, my genderqueer mess. It only has 7 pages so far but it’s a passion project that’s been building for about 5 years. (I’m also writing his parents love story *cough cough*)

Just wanted to thank those who have been supporting me and those who continue to support me even as I disappear and isolate. I’m grateful to you all and hope you all stay safe today.

#tdov #trans day of visibility #My face #queer art #i feel self concious posting this but why not #*waves awkwardly*

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willowbird · 3 years

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hi hi! ❤ 3 and 9 from the writer thing? 👀

Hi!! *waves energetically*

3. Oh gosh I could like... spend nine years answering this one XD But I think the one thing that I really would love to write but I’m not sure I’d ever be able to work up the effort/gumption to DO is a trans/genderqueer Adam Parrish fic. I have a very specific idea in my head of how I want to do him. But it would be incredibly personal to write, which would mean it would be HARD to write and also be satisfied with. That, and I’m not as comfortable writing TRC as I am with AFTG.

9. Honestly? o.o A little bit of both on both accounts? XD Like... some fics explode into my brainpan as these big long things. And some of them are fun and little drabbles. I think I enjoy writing the short ones more, but the long ones are more satisfying if that makes sense? As for plotting vs pantsing... I am probably more of a pantser than I am a plotter. For long fics or ones where I have like... an actual PLOT to I will often try to have a vague outline. And by vague I mean VERY VAGUE. And that’s just so that I don’t get lost. Otherwise, left up to my brain, there would be like, no cohesion or direction or anything, just a collection of scenes that I felt like writing in that moment XD

Writer asks

#asks #writer asks #asks from friends

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the-cabin-complex · 3 years

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Since many in our system are trans or gender nonconforming, we thought we’d make some art for TDOV! Gender, being trans, and being an alter is complicated, even if you’re cis and the body just has a different configuration. So we thought we’d talk a little bit about our separate experiences and views on our genders, and/or gender in general under the cut.

[Image Description: a drawing of four alters in front of a turquoise and pink background. They are all holding up a large trans flag that says “Happy TDOV” for transgender day of visibility.

The person on the left is a person named Aziraphale. He is smiling with his eyes closed, and has white hair, a beige vest, a blue shirt, and a bowtie with the colors of the agender flag on it. He is holding the left corner of the flag.

The person to his right is a person named Crowley. They are smiling, have chin length red hair in a half updo. They are wearing a shirt with a plunging neckline in the colors of the genderqueer flag, dark sunglasses, and a translucent black shawl-like jacket. They have visible red arm and chest hair, and a large Y-shaped scar on their chest.

The person to their left is a person named Esrah. They are smiling and have their eyes closed, and have short dark blue hair and light brown arm hair and freckles. They are waving a small non-binary flag, and are wearing a trans flag shirt and yellow overalls with black constellations on them.

The person on the far right is a person named Author. He is a tall, grey hooded figure with no face, but they have a little speech bubble next to their head with a smiling face, and are holding the far right side of the flag. He looks like he is dressed in draping grey fabric, and has a large scarf with the colors of the agender flag on it. End Image Description]

Being trans in a system is complicated, but to all trans alters out there, happy TDOV!! Wishing you the best,

—the Facets system

Author here (furthest to the right in picture): For me, gender is complicated. It’s hard to describe your status as trans or cisgender if no gender was assigned to you in the first place. Personally, I have no gender. I may seem like I present in a more ‘masculine’ way with my voice and height, but that is simply coincidental; it is just how I feel most comfortable. Best wishes to all other people with little to no gender /pos

Esrah here (second to right): This is for the people who didn’t figure out they were trans until later. It’s okay if you liked how you presented as a kid, and it’s okay if you didn’t. The bit that matters is that you’re learning more about yourself and what makes you the most comfortable! Personally, my gender is a little bit like how yellow is entirely unrelated to pink or blue; you can’t make one out of the other, but it’s still a color. This is also for people who haven’t/can’t transition yet. You are still your gender, no matter if people recognize it yet, and I wish you the best in getting to a point where you feel as comfortable in yourself as you can!

Crowley here (second to left): To me, gender is like a large wardrobe full of different clothing that I can wear or not wear, depending on what I feel like. Gender is ambiguous and fluid, which is why genderqueer describes it best for me so far. This is for the people who don’t into neat little boxes. The ideas humans have about what someone is supposed to look like or not like are, in the end, always changing. They always have, they always will, and the most important thing in my opinion is feeling comfortable presenting how you want, not only as what’s seen as normal.

Aziraphale here: I see my corporation and presentation like a routine, or a well-worn coat. It is comfortable, and I am used to it. This is the case whether people think it lines up with what someone who has no gender should look like or not. Some may think that presenting in a binary way most of the time proves that someone “isn’t really” their gender, but I think this is as far from the truth as it could be. It is perfectly alright to present in a very masculine or feminine or conforming way; there is nothing wrong with that, and it doesn’t mean you’re not the gender you are. You are just as beautiful and stunning and handsome as any other trans person, and you deserve to be respected as you are.

🏳️‍⚧️Happy TDOV!!🏳️‍⚧️

#osdd #did #trans alter #cabin complex art

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anyu-blue · 3 years

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Hey I'm rambling about stuff in my own head again. Trigger warnings apply- specifically those dealing with therapy, dysphoria, self harm, relationships, and stuff like that. :T

I don't really understand it... For quite a while there I was fine. Content even to just let things slide. I think it was because I felt secure where I was (with Lon) and blocked out a lot that doing therapy has brought screaming to the front of my mind... But I could be wrong and I feel confused and conflicted again.

At one point (before Lon) I had settled down when my previous therapist basically gave me permission to call myself androgynous. She told me it was okay- if that's what I felt, then I could use it.... I felt very relieved and much less ruffled. There was still a nag in the back of my head, but it was quiet enough I buried it... For the most part...

Getting with Lon brought quite a few forward and I insisted he understand I am/was not a girl. He also seemed content and sweet and more than accepting... Until he wasn't.. looking back.. Lon said a LOT of weird or off things he either never came through with or downright switched on.. especially near the end. EVERYONE in his family and friend group assumed and pushed the 'girl' thing... And that nag got a little louder..I pushed back (gently) reminding Lon with little things here and there that I wasn't... But still 'she' and overwhelming compliments on my feminity buried me under them. In the end... I know it was driving me crazy (literally) and probably Contributed more to the mess than I understood at the time.

But it also wasn't a push even.. just the assumption.. I believe that because right now my hackles are raised so high every time someone says 'she' to or about me I BRISTLE. I want to yell or (depending on who it is) quietly tell whomever is doing it to stop.. tell them they're wrong... Most aren't doing it maliciously, I know.. it's just what they see. I feel pressured or pushed. It's really weird and extremely uncomfortable. It's confusing too because.. I don't know... I can't see how they don't see me as different than 'girl'... Or heaven forbid 'WOMAN.'

*shudders*

My therapist and I are exploring the feelings around when these things are said to me... And she's proposed doing something about my anger and frustration like squeezing Something or something or just outright accepting it... Basically ANYTHING other than telling people my business... But the problem is, I've told her... I want to BREAK things.. I mean I don't... But I feel the urge to. To hit. To yell. To scream. To cry. To crush. To run. But I don't. In some ways I can't.... Squeezing Something when I'm angry hurts me. My grip is incredibly weak (always has been no matter what I've tried) and everything pops painfully. Or it pinches my skin and hurts... So I've developed a reflex to do the opposite of squeeze or hit things (which certainly hasn't helped the weakness issue lol)... And even if I do try to do those things.... It's never enough. I can't go and go and go like I want to. It just makes me madder. More frustrated. It's never satisfying or as releasing as People tell me it should feel. I just want more. And more and more and more. And in the end I'm usually left a sobbing mess that's completely spent, but still so mad and frustrated... Feeling those feelings even more. Sure I'm tired enough to pass out.. but I wake up.. and everything is still there.. usually coupled with depression because it's STILL THERE... And I couldn't get it out. I don't feel better or lighter or more free.. I feel heavier.. sadder... Worse. I used all that energy and nothing came of it.

And I don't understand!! I really don't. Why I'm never satisfied... Why I've always always been so angry... I was told I was an extremely cruel child.. I remember a little too.. I always wanted to act, but was pushed down.. and even when I did, it never felt good or like it was enough.. I swear I could tear an entire house down by myself with nothing but my own two hands and I STILL would want to do more.

...

And I'm feeling all of these things with gender...

Tevs said to me she thinks I 'want to be a boy because our mother always wanted a boy and [I] always wanted her approval.' ... I can't deny that MAYBE it had an influence on me. MAYBE...

But... I don't WANT that witch's approval anymore. I don't care about her distain either. I don't want her ANYWHERE NEAR my life, it's MINE not hers.. and I'm really pissed off no one can seem to take the damn hint I am 110% DONE with her and anything to do with her. She HAS a son to raise now. And a loving husband who had her adopt him. And good friends and whatever else she has in her life. I am OUT of it. And I want to be out of it forever.

.. it feels demeaning when Tevs says that it's all from that to me.. she's done it more than once, and of course I'm upset by it every time.

... I just want to be me... And every time someone looks at me and tells me I am beautiful.. or pretty.. or a wonderful woman... I just want to cry... To go hide.. I feel so ashamed.

...

Here's the thing.. I AM attractive. I AM beautiful, hot, resilient, kind... Just about everything you'd associate a woman with... I was walking to another area in my workplace just tonight and caught a glimpse of myself as I did so in our big windows... The way I walk. My silhouette. Everything about me... Is envious.

I'm not saying these things because I'm vain.. I'm saying them because if I compare my body and gait and everything to the People alongside me- even the guests I see coming in- I can see it as clearly as everyone else who tells me I'm this pretty thing does... I'm not sickeningly skinny and I'm not fat. I'm not super tall nor short. I'm right in the middle with an ass and legs People tell me they'd kill to have... If I were to wear proper bras, I have a chest they'd love too- not too heavy and not unnoticeably small... But I wear ones that squish my chest so it looks like I have less (and that might be why I have such glaring problems with my ribcage sliding out of place all the time. I'm crushing everything XP).. take a guess as to why I started doing that...

I can't hide my hips... Nor my legs... I've got cute feet too. And hands... So dainty and fine- just enough bone and plump in the right places... It's no wonder I am the envy of my poor (adopted) cousin desperate to be a model and a star.. poor girl. She's beautiful in her own right, but her genes have made it so hard for her to fully dive into her confidence... My dad told me we are rivals and have always been... And my heart breaks for her because I'm not even trying... I want her to succeed!! To be the one in the spotlight!! I want to stay in the background so she can shine... But I always get pulled forward and somehow she's in my shadow (despite being taller than me).. and she can't stand to be near me.. even when I am trying my hardest to let her lead or to say things kindly or in her favor.. I can't seem to win... So I don't really have a relationship with her at all.. Though I really wanted to.

When I don't hide.. when I do 'dress up'... There's so many compliments. If I run into ANYONE from school when I do... *Gags* the compliments, disbelief, and shock... I remember EVERY prom... People not knowing who I was... Or being shocked if they did recognize me straight out. All 4 years... And it made the ostracization worse. My class was AFRAID of me. I was this shy/frumpy (also angry) little thing.. but I still remember being stared at changing after gym whenever there wasn't a stall for me to hide in.. I personally at the time thought it was because I was so ugly/fat they couldn't help themselves... Going through everything in therapy.. I realize it was because I was so skinny under all my baggy clothes.. and really pretty under the acne/hood/ugly glasses. I wasn't bullied just because I was smart/loved to learn... I was a threat and didn't even know it. The envy of my peers. And it's so sad.

I did wish to be like them.. so confident. So able to fake it. To do my makeup and wear cute things and to feel right somehow... But I never did. I tried.. but couldn't stand the clothes.. or the comments about my ass... Or all the things they focused on whenever I came close to succeeding. I couldn't seem to get it right. I just wanted to hide whenever I stood out... It never felt right.

It got to the point I was AFRAID to wear dresses and skirts. Terrified. Everything felt wrong with the world when I did. I felt like I was faking Something. Like I was purposefully being awful... Lying..

I wear some now because I was cheered up by the idea of genderqueer people and some men finding comfort in wearing them and in some ways them becoming more acceptable by all genders... Plus they're reeeally comfy sometimes. And it's nice to just be able to throw on a dress with built in pads during the summer heat wave than to worry about all those damn layers XP ... And I recognize that no one is going to question me or think I'm lying when I wear any... They don't see what I have in my head.

I do recognize that some of this stuff has trauma tied to it... And I'm confused because I don't know where the trauma ends and I (my own genuine thoughts) begin... I was not treated kindly at home- even outright being called ugly in a derogatory manner.. granted I now know those comments mostly came from a pedophile disinterested in me and the pedophile's own manipulation of my mother and her family's opinions (gaslighting and twisting to where I really was the horrible child in all ways) AND I know that I am not neurotypical which caused some other unfortunate treatments in and around my home.

I don't know where to go with it... Or why I'm so viscously against being called a girl or a woman. Why it's setting me off so bad right now. I just know that it is... And for some reason every time I'm alone or not really thinking of it... I don't think of myself as one. Not at all. And when I'm reminded.. I'm often startled by it and confused and need to process the information for a second... Despite 'being' one for all of my life... I've continually had the problem I don't expect what I see in the mirror either.. especially since puberty.

If I could show you what I think/feel most of the time... I think this would be the closest I could get- just make the chest straighter/flatter... It bugged me to no end to add that detail in and still does to this day, but I was going off the model (me lol). I don't feel like Anything... But I want to be something.. and that Something is... Not this. Not this...

But where do I go? What do I do?

I'm terrified of surgeries... I don't want massive scars (not that I mind scars- in fact I LOVE them. They're so cool!! But I don't want people to KNOW you know? Not that. Not Something that is such a private matter... I don't want to believe or go after something for it to be wrong too... And I don't feel I can afford any of it anyway 😞 even if I did want to try or actually found the right one... I would be so depressed to never be able to reach my goal.. and I feel I've held myself back due to that fear too...

I know another reason I haven't tried anything or spoken up or anything is because I have this strange desire to pass on my genetic legacy. It is such a powerful urge I am TERRIFIED of losing the ability... People tell me about adoption all the time as a great option, and it IS a great option for the children... Because I would do ANYTHING for my own... But it's this terrible terrible feeling I wouldn't feel I could claim them as my own and it would leave something still empty inside of me and I wouldn't be as loving because of it and that kills me... It sounds terrible too!!

I would do almost anything to have my own child... When it comes to pain tolerance or body changes I know I would have the hardest time than most if I were to get knocked up.. but I have that thought that it would be worth it because they are MINE.

I've thought about egg donation.. because I feel it would make me feel better to know I succeeded in passing on the line to someone better off and worthy of having children... But I feel I have too many genetic issues or would be an undesirable candidate or I'd feel terrible if the child died and then I didn't succeed...

Lol I think of things oddly... And that makes me think I don't deserve to have children or donate too... Never mind the actual process XP boy... Complicated~

So I've never tried... I am also quite poor and know I would struggle to raise a child. Even just one. And if I were to have twins (as I'm the generation that is supposed to)... I have even more worries... And I don't want a child or children to grow up with the struggles I had or worse than I had like they likely would if I just went for it.

...

I knew I felt more sure when I was with Lon because he apparently wanted/wants kids too... And it was in the plan (Maybe. Maybe not. It's possible he was the one messing with my medication alarms and trying, but also possible he just wanted sex... Because he told me before he left that he thought he was infertile for a long time (and there's some pretty strong evidence to suggest he's got weak swimmers lol but I'm not going to divulge what that stuff is) so it may have been a lie all along... But I didn't know and felt assured and safe with that path at the time)...

*sigh*

Idk what to do... I know I'm messed up about it all.. and I know my knee jerks and feelings... But I don't exactly trust myself or my memory or my reasons... I am only human... And I feel so lost.

I know what I envy... Very much.. and what I would choose if I could... But... Life just doesn't work that way... And science is so stunted it likely won't in my lifetime.

*snort*

I feel the worst thing that my dad ever said to me was when I told him and his wife that I wasn't a girl... I don't remember if I told them I was neither or would prefer to be a guy... But I do remember my dad's response... He told me 'go ahead and you do you, but I want you to know that no matter what, you're always going to be my little girl. I just can't think of you any other way, because you are. You're my little girl.'

And I just... It struck me so badly (obviously, I still think about it)... And made my heart so heavy. I... Understand... To the extent I can... And I don't want to... Lose him because I can't accept that... But.. I feel like it's only pushed me to lose myself... To.. just stay. Take the 'easy' route. To 'accept' it (except we can see how well THAT'S going).

*sigh*

I don't know...

The only thing I do know right now is I have this fantasy about... Going away for a while. More or less disappearing for 5 to 10 years... And coming back... How I want to be/see myself... And seeing what everyone would think...

Tevs thinks I only want it because of trauma. Dad thinks I'm always going to be his daughter. Everyone else is so sure I am a woman...

And maybe they're right... (I mean TECHNICALLY lol I can't exactly argue with that 😂)... And I would be trying to let my 'good looks' and all that 'go to waste'...

...

If I could trade someone... 100%... I would. I'm a pretty/beautiful/attractive looking body... (My face is debatable lol but whatever)... I wonder how come am I not happy about it...

#personal #random #ignore me #life in general #trigger warnings apply

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draftingtides · 4 years

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I’ll Find the Words

AO3

Words: 1343 Characters: Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood Relationships: JonMartin Warnings: Brief mentions of Martin’s mum being transphobic and generally unpleasant, Jons afraid Martin’s going to react badly to his asexuality but theres no actual aphobia Other Tags: Cottage Fic, Curtain Fic, Coming Out, Trans Martin Blackwood, Nonbinary Jonathan Sims, Canon Asexual Character, Getting Together, Canon Atypical Discussions of Emotions, Domestic Fluff, Post MAG159 Pre MAG160 Summary: Somehow maybe now I'll find the words to say Never thought I'd see the day —Brian David Gilbert, "See The Day" In a cottage in Scotland, they finally get to talk.

Jon wakes slowly, the dredges of some re-lived statement slipping out of his mind. His face is half-smushed in his pillow, but through his free eye he can see Martin across the bed, still asleep. Sunlight filters in through the lacey curtains and draws patterns across the quilt and their hands, which rest only inches away from each other.

Following the slow rise and fall of Martin’s chest almost lulls Jon back to sleep. For the first time in too long, he takes a moment to just lay there and… breathe; to feel his lungs contracting and expanding, his body pressing into the mattress. He closes his eyes and his eyelashes brush against the pillow. He doesn’t have anywhere to be. He doesn’t have anything to do. He can just exist.

A shift of the fabric makes him open his eyes again. Martin is awake now, watching him. Jon watches back. Neither of them says a word.

I really loved you, you know? Loved, past tense—but everything is past tense in the Lonely. It was once-there-was-someone-or-something-but-now-it-is-gone-and-I-am-on-my-own. It still lingers, still hovers on the edge of Martin’s being. His hair is shock-white where the Lonely leeched all the colour from it.

Jon’s limbs are heavy from sleep, so his movements are clumsy when he reaches out and puts one hand in Martin’s hair. Martin sucks in a breath, but his expression doesn’t change, nor does he ask Jon to stop, so Jon doesn’t move. Martin’s hair is soft as candyfloss, soft as a cloud.

“I love you,” Jon says, pleasantly surprised when his voice doesn’t tremble.

Martin’s eyes go wide like saucers. In a voice as steady as Jon’s and soft as his hair, he says, “I love you, too, Jon.” He puts his own hand on top of Jon’s and tugs it down to press a kiss to his open palm. “I love you,” he whispers again, so quietly this time that Jon’s not even sure he was meant to hear it.

Jon twists his hand in Martin’s so he can twine their fingers together. “Would you like breakfast? We can make pancakes.”

Martin squeezes his hand. “Yeah. Yeah, breakfast sounds great.”

~~~~~

Daisy doesn’t have any syrup, so they make do with butter and honey on their pancakes instead.

Martin fixes them both tea. If he notices Jon watching him while he does so, he doesn’t say anything about it. Jon accepts his cup with a murmured thanks.

The table is a tiny thing, and it’s no difficulty at all for Martin to link his left hand with Jon’s across it.

When he finishes eating, Jon pushes his plate away. “I… I’ve been thinking. About something Peter Lukas said.”

Martin’s expression tightens, but he nods for Jon to continue.

“He said we don’t know each other very well. And I… it’s true, I think. At least for me.” He focuses on a point just to the left of Martin’s face. “But I would like to know you. I want to know everything about you—not because of the Eye, just—just for me. And for you.”

Martin’s breath hitches. “I want to know everything about you, too.”

They leave the dishes in the sink and curl up on the couch, facing each other, never unclasping their hands.

“What do you want to know?”

Jon considers. “Is there anything you want me to know first?”

Martin bites his lip and looks to the side. “I’m trans.”

Without thinking, Jon says, “Oh, I know.”

Martin turns sharply back to look at him. “What? How?”

“Um. When I caught you in your pants when you were staying at the Archives? You didn’t have a shirt on and you were wearing your binder.”

Martin exhales and runs and a hand through his hair. “I thought you thought it was a tank top.”

“I did, at first. But it had the trans flag colours on it, and I recognised them. I didn’t want to do anything rude or—or transphobic, so I did a little research after that, and that’s when I figured out it was a binder.” Jon resists the urge to stick his hand in his mouth and chew on his nails. “I, ah, I’m trans too? Um, genderqueer.”

“Oh! What are your pronouns?”

“He/him, I think.”

Martin sighs, relieved. “That’s good. I hate to think I’d been misgendering you. He/him for me, as well.”

“When did… when did you start figuring it out?”

“Around fifteen or sixteen? I couldn’t really start transitioning until I was an adult. Mum was… not supportive.” He looks away. “I think I must have looked too much like my dad.”

Jon rubs his thumb over the back of Martin’s hand.

“I got top surgery last year, after she died. I… I was scared I wouldn’t like how it would look, after—after I realised how much it would make me look like him? I didn’t want to have that association every time I looked in the mirror. But I decided to go through with it, and I don’t think it makes me look like him. It just makes me look like me.”

“You look lovely, Martin,” Jon tells him sincerely, and Martin flushes to the tips of his ears.

“What about you? When did you figure it out?”

Jon recognises the attempt to divert his attention for what it is, but he doesn’t comment on it. “Just a couple years ago, actually. I came across the term while I was researching after I caught you in your binder, but I didn’t really… connect it to the way I felt until later. I also found another word?” This time, he does bring his thumb up to his mouth to chew on his nail. “Asexual.”

Martin nods and squeezes his hand.

“It means… not having sexual attraction. Which isn’t the same as romantic attraction, um, they’re separate things. So someone could be asexual and biromantic, which is like bisexual except romantic instead of sexual. It’s—um—” Jon gives up on the nail and just bites down on his whole thumb. “It’s—some aces—that’s shorthand for asexual—some of them like sex? But some—they just—it’s not—”

“Jon.”

Jon shuts up.

“Are you asexual?”

He nods slowly.

“And you don’t like sex?”

He nods again without meeting Martin’s eyes. “I don’t even like kissing on the mouth.”

Martin tugs Jon’s hand away from his mouth and holds it with his own, so they’re holding hands on both sides. “Hey. If you don’t want to have sex, or kiss me, I’m not going to make you. I didn’t fall in love with you because I thought the sex would be good.”

“But you like sex.”

“I—well, yeah. Probably. But—”

Jon looks up. “Probably?”

“I’ve never actually… done it? I never exactly had a lot of time, between working and caring for my mum. I’ve never even had a boyfriend.”

“Oh.”

“My point is, I’ve gone my entire life without having sex. I can go the rest of it, too. Especially if it means I get to be with you.”

“Oh.” His eyes start to sting. “Um.” He pulls one of his hands free of Martin’s to wipe away the wetness on his cheeks.

“Do you want a hug?” Martin asks gently, opening his arms a bit.

Jon nods and falls into them without a second thought. He’s not a loud crier, but he muffles the little sounds he does make in Martin’s neck. Martin rubs Jon’s back and rocks them a little, making quiet, comforting shushing sounds.

The strong wave of emotion peters out eventually, but Jon doesn’t move from Martin’s hold.

“You okay?” Martin murmurs.

Jon nods. “Thank you.”

Martin giggles a bit. “We really just started out with the the heaviest stuff, didn’t we?”

Jon laughs and holds Martin tighter. “Should I have asked for your favourite colour instead?”

“It’s brown. Like your eyes.”

Jon splutters and retaliates with, “Mine’s pink. Like you used to dye your hair,” and grins when Martin’s cheeks colour to match.

#jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #the magnus archives #tma #ace jon #trans jonathan sims #trans martin blackwood #tma fic #tma fanfic #jon sims #trans/gnc jon #trans/gnc martin #tma pride #iaw #starlight starwrite #my post

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shamelesslymkp · 4 years

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yj’s least favorite tims - a dialog-only sketch!fic

inspired by and like, directly jumping off of @shoalsea ‘s fucking amazing YJ/Batfam fic, Into the Brighter Night, wherein there’s a chapter in which YJ is discussing Tim’s various cover identities and which ones they think are the worst. this is a direct spin off of that and like, not nearly as good but damn if it didn’t just worm its way into my head.

warnings for implications/references to Tim deliberately going undercover as pedophile bait as early as age 13, implications of the neglect/distance of his early career as Robin in how Batman was apparently unaware, and especially for the use of like, weaponized dirty talk featuring incest kink.

uh. so now that you are like, completely uninterested in this sketch of a scene since I’ve. sold it so poorly, here’s the read more:

***

“OK, OK - sure, Mr. Sarcastic was a pain, but what about Douchebro Dan?”

“Ooh. True. Douchebro Dan is definitely worse than Mr. Sarcastic, like, just inherently, but on the other hand, Tim’s never douchebro for long - he kept up that Mr. Sarcastic thing for weeks.”

“I don’t know, I feel like Jackass Jackson should definitely be in the running here, every time he opens his mouth I want to punch him.”

*call from across the room* “That’s the point!”

“Wait, are we doing male IDs only, or is this across the board? Because Alathea is fucking terrifying, man. Like. She would definitely shoot a man in Reno just to watch him die.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Alathea would never do that. That would be an absurd amount of effort to put into something so easily accomplished in other, less messy ways.”

“…like I said. Terrifying.”

“True.” “That’s for sure.”

“Alathea?”

“Gender is a construct; gender presentation doubly so.”

“Wait, did they not— oh my god Tim, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to--”

*waves her off*

“A female or genderqueer identity can go places and do things a male identity can’t. It’s a matter of utility.”

*all of YJ is shifting a little awkwardly. Bats/birds are definitely getting the impression it might be more than that*

“Also, Alathea is not terrifying. She is… efficient.”

“I don’t think that word means what you think it means, dude.”

*glance heavenward for strength* “Fine. She’s effective.”

“Effective at terrifying people, that’s for sure.”

*awkward pause*

“Uh. What about Regina George? She’s super mean.”

“Regina George? Like Mean Girls?”

*eye roll* “Georgina.”

“She’s definitely a bitch, that’s for sure, but like, nothing above and beyond? She’s just kind of dime-a-dozen mean girl. I don’t know, guys, I feel like it really comes down to Jackass and Douchebro. Alathea may be terrifying but like, only if you get in her way.”

“True.” “They are so awful, they really are.”

“But which one’s worst?”

“Douchebro.” “Jackass.”

“Oh come on, it’s totally Douchebro. Like. He wears a double popped collar, people. In the year of our lord 2020. He is the epitome of douchiness.”

“Douchebro at least takes no for an answer. Jackass—”

“No, no, no. Guys. You’re overlooking the obvious. The indisputable. The absolute 1000% winner.”

*puzzled looks*

*dramatic pause* “Jacqueline.”

“Oh yeah no, for sure.” “Shit yeah.” “No question.” “No arguing with that.” “God, Bart, did you have to bring her back up? I’d almost managed to repress those memories, thank you very much!”

*eyeroll from Tim* “Oh quiet down, you baby.”

“That shit was traumatic, Tim! I was traumatized!”

“Oh, really?” *smooth rise, slinky gait* “Big strong superhero like you, traumatized by me? I’m hurt, Conner. I thought we had something special. Don’t you like me anymore?”

“Dude, your brothers are *right* *there*”

“My brothers?” *faux innocent blink, then canary smile* “Is *that* what does it for you, Kent? I’m impressed. Never would’ve called that one. But sure, we can play it like that. That what get you off at night? Thinking about me gettin’ taken care of by my big brothers? Emphasis on big? I’m curious - do they take turns, do you think? Bet they could fuck me for hours like that. Or maybe they’re too greedy for that kind of patience. Maybe they both have me at the same time. You wish you were there? Wanna watch them teach me what that pretty little mouth of mine was made for? Maybe if you ask real nice they'll even let you have a turn. Dickie always was good at sharin' his to—"

*superspeed covering tim's mouth*

"yesthanksallagreedjacquelineistheworsteveryonesayaye"

"AYE"

"theayeshaveitjacquelinewinscanwehavetimbacknowplease"

"You know, I hadn't really considered the incest kink angle before, so thanks, Kon. I'd kind of resigned myself to retiring her entirely but now I think I can see a way to make her still work. She won't be as effective, obviously, but there's nothing I can really do about that; I simply can't pass for a tween anymore. What?"

"What the FUCK was that??"

"…Jacqueline? Sorry, I normally wouldn't subject family to her, but like, that was way too good of an opening to skip."

"Seriously, Kon, you might as well have dared him."

“Shut up. You, out. All of you.”

“Hey, you’re not the boss of—”

*gun cocks*

“Holy—” “What the fuck, man” “dude, half of us are bulletproof” “wait, I thought the bats didn’t like guns?” “shh, later”

“OUT.”

“It’s cool, guys. Jason just likes to be dramatic sometimes. Give us a few? Bats business, you know how it is.”

*YJ reluctantly leaves the room* *Tim turns back to Jason*

"You have a cover persona.. named Jacqueline. Who says. that kind of shit to people."

"I mean, the incest part was new, but yeah."

"What—WHY."

"Uh. To gather intel?" Obviously?

"What kind of intel could that possibl— are you fucking kidding me. B had you doin' honeytraps for pedophiles?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Oh, g—"

"You know for the most part I worked my own cases."

"AND YOU DECIDED TO PLAY HONEYTRAPS ON PEDOPHILES?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, how else was I going to get evidence without putting a child in danger?"

"Tim - You - THERE WAS STILL A CHILD IN DANGER"

"I mean, sometimes, yeah, but I usually managed to distract the perp enough that the kid came out with minimal trauma. Well. less trauma, at least."

"THAT'S NOT" *deep breath, carefully controlled voice. "Did B know?"

"Bruce trusted me to handle my own cases as I saw fit, provided no supervillain or major organization turned out to be involved. Then I was required to loop him in."

"So that'd be a no. Right. OK. How about Dickwad?"

"Nightwing was based in Bludhaven most of my Robin years."

"Babs? Alfred? ANYONE?"

"I have to admit I'm not really understanding your reaction right now.”

*another deep breath* "OK. So. You used this cover on honeypot ops. To get evidence on - what, traffickers?"

"Sometimes, but not with Jacqueline. She was really designed for more one-on-one encounters."

“Not with- one-on - OK. There's. a lot to unpack there.”

"Not really? It's not really that complicated; different situations require different strategies—”

“THERE’S A LOT TO UNPACK THERE, but let’s just. start with the basics. When did you start using yourself as pedophile bait.”

“oh, not until after I became Robin, obviously. I’m not an idiot, I knew better than to put myself in a situation like that without training of some kind.”

“how LONG after.”

“I don’t know, a few months, maybe? it was kind of spur of the moment the first time. Is there a point to this line of questioning?”

“Kid. You were what, twelve? when you became Robin—”

“Thirteen.”

“Oh, yeah, thirteen, sorry, my bad, basically an adult, shut the hell up. Jesus christ.” *covers his face with his hands*

*several minutes later*

“Uh… are you… okay? I could. get you some water?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this. But. No. I need you to get Bruce.”

“Are you *sure* you’re feeling okay?”

“NOW, smartass.”

#ain't no other mkp #mkp writes fic #kinda #tim drake fic #not!fic #old school young justice fic

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karterh-blog · 5 years

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Levi 1

Levi

This is stupid.

What am I doing?

Nothing odd.

Just a tall teen, buying packaged cookies.

And that’s it.

Watching that movie was a bad idea. Why did I let Nic talk me into watching it? They were so persistent. The movie was good. It made me feel less alien. The worst part was the partial I got from the watching the kiss at the end. I had to hide it behind my letterman’s jacket when we left the theater.

Maybe it’s a good thing. No other on-screen romance has gotten that much of a rise out of me. Fuck. Even my thoughts are getting corny.

“Young man register 15 is available,” the yellow-vested Walmart employee startled me out of my inner turmoil. I looked up at her, she looked tired, unkempt, as my mother would say. She gave me an impatient nod to herd me along to the self-checkout kiosk.

I quickly scanned my purchase and selected the pay option. Fumbling with my wallet I tried to rush the machine into taking my five-dollar bill. The stubborn thing spat it back at me. Infuriatingly, I snatched it back, worked out a barely bent corner and forced the note back into the payment slot. This argument went on for a few more rounds. I felt the stares of the moms waiting in the line. Believe me ladies, I want to get out of here as much as you do. After a fifth attempt it finally accepts my payment and spits my change and receipt at me. I shove it into my jeans pocket, grab my purchase and head for the doors.

“I need to see your receipt, young man,” drawls the exasperated looking man at the greeter post.

I attempt to extract it from my pocket without showering my feet with pennies and dimes. I failed.

“It’s a new policy.”

“It’s fine,” I say and as I hand him the small slip, I see that my hands are shaking.

My hands don’t shake. I scored the winning net in or hockey game against Gillette Saturday night. They’re our biggest competition this season, not to mention our biggest rival. “What is wrong with me.”

“Thank you, have a nice night,” he utters in monotone. he so doesn’t care.

I’m in the clear. Not even close, Pearson.

I make it to the second set of doors and forget how hard it’s snowing. I hate driving around town in snow. I’m not a terrible driver for a 17-year-old. I get carried away after a big win on the ice or a movie with good chase scenes, but generally I keep it in my pants. But other people act like they haven’t lived here for decades and either slide through the intersections or drive half the speed limit.

Crap, am I really doing this?

At the beginning of Christmas break Nic begged me to go see a movie about some gay kid. It didn’t play here in Sheridan. There is no way it would play here. It might turn us impressionable youths into the gays!! Too late. Anyway, Nic convinced my mom that she would likely get a better present if I were allowed to drive up to Billings, Montana to do my holiday shopping. Nic is basically an only child. They know how to manipulate parents. They are my best friend, but I wouldn’t say that to the guys on the team. The guys already give me a hard time for hanging out with them and some of their “freaky” friends. I just feel so comfortable around them.

Unlike now. My socks are wet from slopping to my car. Chucks are not good winter shoes. I jam the key into the door handle to unlock the car. No fancy fob for this ride. Hell, it doesn’t even have cruise control. Gotta love hand-me-downs. Now that Jess is working a job and going to school (Sheridan College, fancy) he was able to buy a better vehicle. So, I get the old Honda my parents bought used ten years ago. The hinges creak as I open the door and slouch into the driver’s seat.

After shoving my backpack into the floor, I set the package of Oreos on the passenger seat. They’re the holiday ones with the red filling. Not really like the movie said, but close.

The car squeals to life with a good forceful turn of the ignition. I should get my friend Joey to change that belt. It’s getting really bad. I carefully make my way out of the packed parking lot as my phone buzzes in my hoodie pocket. I know it’s Nic, so I don’t even look.

“Hi.”

“Hey babe?” They sound unsure. Great.

“Why do you call me that? Don’t you’ll make me more nervous?”

“Lee, it’s going to be great! I’m so excited for you. I wish I could watch from your backseat.” Nic ignored my question. Typical.

“God you’re creepy.”

“Yeah. But you love me.”

“Uhhh....” I let silence hang in the chilly air.

“Levi Pearson, you go give that boy his cookies and make his year!”

“How are you cockier than me? Do you think he’ll even get the reference? This is pretty out there.”

“I know he saw the movie, Sarah Riley showed me his secret Instagram post about seeing it and then journaling at City Brew for hours afterward!”

“How do you know it was actually his post?”

“Babe, the freaks know all the best gossip.”

“Seriously? The babe thing?”

“What about it?”

“Even your friends think we’re together!”

“That’s impossible Lee. They all know I’m a demi/panromantic asexual genderqueer!”

“Nic. No one in this county knows what that means, except for you.”

“You’re totally not my type.”

“You mean you’re not my type?”

“Right. Not everyone can be born with genitalia that you are disturbingly focused on. But you are so stoic that no one knows what your type is, other than maybe cheerleader or volleyball player. I’m the only one who sees you. Well until tonight. Then Patrick will see you. Hopefully more of you than I’ve seen.”

“Hey.” I listen to Nic’s peeling cackle for two traffic lights.

“Holy shit. Aren’t you almost there?”

“Just turning off 5th street.”

“Ok. Ok. Ok. I love you! You’ve got this!” With that she hangs up.

I shift into park and look up at the brick house. The lights in the living room shine through the curtains. A big pine tree blocks the only other window facing the street. That’s probably his parents’ room though. That’s how I remember the house when Brad Warren lived there. We used to hang out in grade school, and we’ve been on the same hockey team for two years. I’d ride my bike over here when mom and dad were both at work in the summer.

God. My thoughts are all over the place. I’m mostly just trying to not picture and also hope for the opportunity to see Patrick’s smile. I think a lot about that smile. I didn’t really notice it until he got his braces off last year. It seemed like he smiled for weeks. He was unfortunately outed by some football players in a pretty brutal manner. He hasn't smiled much since then. Nic says he’s been out to his friends for years, which makes us the only two queer guys in the 11th grade, as far as I can tell.

A shadow passes by the window and I jump. Crap. I probably look like a stalker sitting out here.

I grab my backpack off the floor and chuck a couple of textbooks out, so I can fit in the treat I have for Patrick.

The characters in the movie bond over Oreos. And I figured if I showed up and offered them to him, it could be easier than walking up to him at school and saying something dreadfully embarrassing for both of us.

Pearson. You got this.

I wrench my door open and trudge to the Williams’ front door. I can tell by the blue light that the tv is on and I can faintly hear the sounds of Wheel of Fortune. That show is banned in our house. We watch Jeopardy! and no other game shows.

The chime of the doorbell makes me jump. Breathe. In. Out. Hurried little footsteps come toward me. This must be his little brother. I’ve seen him at school functions with his parents. The knob jiggles as he attempts to open the heavy door.

“No! I got it!” The small voice protests. And lights blind me for a second as he stares up at me. I’m already six-one. He must think I’m a giant, as he stands there with his mouth open and his eye wide before squinting at me. “Who are you? Are you Thor?”

“Uhhh, Levi Pearson?” Wow Pearson intimidated by a juvenile.

“Who’s at the door, Alex?” His voice is clear and sharp and makes shiver run down my spine. And then he fills the crack in the doorway standing behind the shorter version of the same person. His bristly dark blonde curls are cropped short. And his light blue eyes look into my soul.

“Levi?”

“Uhh, hey.”

“Why are you at my house?”

“Can we talk?”

“This couldn’t wait until school in the morning?”

“Please?”

“We won’t get very far if you keep answering questions with questions.”

“Boys, shut the door! You’re letting all the heat out.” Their dad has an intimidating presence. He’s big and muscular, and always has a shadow of coal and grease on his skin.

Patrick eyes me wearily.

“Well come in.”

“Thanks.”

The front door leads straight into the living room. They must have painted when they bought the house. It looks totally different. Wow. How does anyone really think I am hetero? I choose to blame my mother and her HGTV habit.

“Can I help you?”

“Oh sorry. Ummm. Did you get Speiker’s assignment from yesterday? I didn’t have a chance to see him before we left for the game.” He glares at me. This was a stretch. We have one class together. Algebra II. I’m decent at it. I mean I’m holding steady to my A-, but I can play dumb.

He looks unconvinced.

“You have friends in that class, why ask me?”

I’ve got to bullshit fast. Mini-Patrick has grown bored of me and now that the door is shut their dad is back in a recliner studying the next word puzzle.

“Well, I was on my way home, and your place is on the way–”

“Are you stalking me?”

“What!?” I try to wipe my now sweaty shaking hands on front of my hoodie. It’s wetter than my hands. This is going great!

“How do you know where I live?” He looks nervous and skeptical.

“Oh. Uhh. Brad used to live here before you.”

“Ooookaaay.”

“Anyway. Your place was on my way home and I need to keep my B in Algebra to stay on the active hockey roster.

“Boys, quit flapping your gums or get out of the living room, you’re interrupting the puzzle,” his dad said while waving us to the kitchen or some other part of the house.

“Fine. Come with me.”

Patrick lead me into the house, cautiously monitoring my every move.

“Patrick. Tell your friend shoes stay at the door.” I was so busy watching Patrick watch me that I didn’t even notice his mom perched at the kitchen counter. She scrutinized me over the top of red-framed reading glasses like a mean librarian, if librarians wore paint splotched bibs. She likes to call herself an artist, but Mom says she’s just crafty with too much free time. I don’t really know what that means but I’ve seen her name on fundraiser auction items.

Patrick clears his throat to get my attention.

“Oh god,” I jump, “sorry.” I dig my toe into the heal of my right shoe popping it off and then do the same with the left. I pick up my sneakers and trudge them back to the front door and take a big deep breath before rejoining Patrick in the kitchen. He leads me down a set of stairs into another living area. It’s basically just an older version of the one upstairs. The couch is more worn, and the recliner looks nonfunctional, but cozy.

“Wait here” he leaves me in the comfy room and my eyes wonder to a wall covered in family photos. I resist the urge to memorize every one of them. Geez. I am a stalker. To calm my fidgeting, I perch on the arm of the couch and stare at the ceiling. I slide my backpack off my shoulders and hold it by the loop at the top.

“Do you have your book with you?” I look down and he’s standing in front of me, still glaring.

“Oh, uh, I don’t really need the homework. I got it from Nic. I just–”

“Dude. What’s going on here? Why the fuck are you at my house then?” His voice is icy and cuts through my small shred of confidence.

“Pat. Calm down.”

“It’s Patrick.”

“Sorry. Patrick.”

“Is this some sort of hazing, jock bet? Infiltrate to home of the homo?”

My stomach had been trying to climb out of my chest and these words drop it to the floor. I slump forward and look at my wet pack and socks. The zipper is partially open, and I can see the bright blue package. I don’t know what to say to him. Of course, that is what this looks like.

“I just wanted to give you something.” I reach into my bag and wrestle to cookie package free. I drop it onto the seat of the battered chair and head quickly back up the stairs. I jam my soggy feet into my shoes, shoulder my bad and leave the warm house without looking at any of the Williams family.

Back in the Civic, I see that I have missed 10 calls and 20 texts. I have one voicemail from home. I opt for that first knowing that all the other communications are from Nic. Mom says dinner is ready and mine will be cold by 7. I check the phone’s screen. It’s just after 7. I’ll make something up. It’ll be fine.

Nic texts again as I close the voicemail window.

Nic: Tell me. Tell me. Tell me.

Nic: <3 <3 <3 <3

Instead of trying to type out my humiliation, I opt for a call instead. I hold the phone with my shoulder as I make a U-turn and drive the five blocks home. It doesn’t take that long for me to spew my rejection and humiliation. I park behind Dad’s old beat up truck and rest my head on my steering wheel as Nic attempts to construct further plans. They seem way more invested in my love life than I am right now. I’m half listening to Nic and half listening to my stomach growling. Tall athletes should not miss meals. But despite its protests I don’t think I can keep anything down.

“Lee!”

“Huh?”

“Are you listening to me or wallowing?”

“Definitely wallowing,” I huff. My breath is starting to fog up my windows.

“Babe, remember when you tripped on your own stick while skating toward the undefended goal in the game against Casper?”

“Wow. As if I didn’t feel shitty enough, thanks Nic.”

“Did you give up hockey after that game?”

“No, but that’s different.”

“You’re right it’s a different kind of match between boys playing with stick.”

“Cute.”

“The cutest enby you know.”

“You’re the only enbee I know.”

“Babe, I can hear you shivering. Go inside. Can me later.”

“Sure.”

I lift my head and realize I have sat here long enough for the snow to coat it windshield. And I think my socks are starting to freeze to my shoes.

#lgbtya #writingprocess #early draft

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sattickate · 6 years

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Heathers: The Television Pilot

So I watched the pilot for the Heathers show yesterday. It's not faithful to the original film at all. like it goes in a completely different direction - more SJW than maintaining the "status quo" like in the film, that said, I didn't hate it.

I won't be watching the rest of the series because it's not my thing. It's Heathers in concept only, not plot. It does make some references to the original (quoting famous lines, big fun is a chip brand, the new happiness posters, the original score), but it very much is a departure from the film. And it is for that reason that I can't place it on the same level as the film or even the musical.

Though it's not outright terrible, it's not a cult classic from and set in the late 80s. This show may be "just" but it is so not "very".

(via my facebook page)

Naturally, I have a lot of opinions on Heathers, the television show. I say naturally because the film is my favourite movie of all-time. And, although I recorded a video commentary/analysis/comparison of the show in relation to the film and musical, I have no idea when I’ll get around to editing that or exactly how clear and concise my opinions will be. So, going back to the medium at which I’m best, let me take the time to go into more detail about the show so far, my opinions on it in relation to the source material and the musical and how it would be as a stand-alone show. Future Katey coming to tell you that I did edit the video and here’s the link to watch it.

Spoiler alert below the cut as I will be going into detail of the events of the entire pilot (as well as the film and music as a whole but if you haven’t seen those where have you been?).

If you’d like a plot summary but don’t actually want to watch the episode.

TL;DR: below the cut, my analysis may be quite long so be prepared to read a lot.

Let’s just clarify some things right off the bat, the show is set in 2017/2018, not in 1988 as was the film (or in ‘89 like the musical). The slang has been updated to fit the time, for example, ‘very’ becomes ‘just’. References are made to the original film: big fun is now a brand of chips, there are “the New Happiness” posters hung on the walls of the school, some dialogue from the film is recycled or repurposed for the show, and (my favourite nod to the film) some of the original film score has been used (or slightly updated) for the show. [This last thing is a very minute detail, but I am such a sucker for the film’s score, so I appreciated that little touch.]

The opening is a bit graphic, to say the least.

Eight years prior to the main events of the episode, we are introduced to an adult woman in a red scrunchie. She has just doused her house in gasoline and lit the match when her husband and son come home. The father quickly runs into the house while the son stays in the car as the mother waves at him from her bedroom window then shoots herself from (under her chin/jaw) as her son is left watching the entire thing. It’s safe to assume the boy in the car is JD because, by the episode’s end, that assumption proves to be true.

So how similar is it to the film, really?

Not very. Not very at all. OK despite my ass clinging to the use of the word very for dear life now, the show honestly has very little to do with the source material. One could speculate that Shannen Doherty’s character (JD’s mother who commits suicide in the show’s cold open) might be someone from the original film and that’s how they could be linked. Otherwise, there’s not much similarity to the original beyond the basic concept and shared character names. And the references. There are loads of references to the source material - not so much to the musical - but you’d be hardpressed to forget this is a reboot with all the allusions to the original.

Why are the diverse characters the villains?

I have no fucking clue. In the narrative, it’s because people who are different are now popular.

Heather Chandler (HC) is fat (or as the show calls it “body positive” as if to say fat is a bad word and only overweight people can be body positive) and she appears to be into a more blackmail centred version of social justice. And she’ll continue to blackmail people even after her “death” it seems - if the sneak peek at the end of the episode’s any indication.

Heather Duke (HD) is our genderqueer character, and we see she/her pronouns being used (I can’t recall if other pronouns were also used for Duke). She basically copies HC in that blackmail approach to social justice and she’s secretly very envious of HC

Heather McNamara (HM) is our biracial Heather, she is also supposedly a lesbian, but we see her making out with one of her male teachers in the parking lot of Snappy’s Snack Shack. HD catches her in this act and claims that HM is not actually LGBTQ+ (sexuality is fluid though so maybe HM is another type of WLW. Though, by the way, this show is going HD seems correct in her assumption that HM is straight).

Outside of this narrative though it doesn’t make any sense. We could have gotten a POC Veronica and/or JD (who they seem to be making more of an antihero than outright psychopath), or they could have gender-bent JD and made Veronica WLW to provide diversity in a way that doesn’t villainise the diverse.

Trying to Flip the Script

As I said above, they seem to want to make JD more of an antihero than the psychopathic killer he was in the film. And I noticed this was something they tried to do in the musical too. They may not have gone as far as making him an anti-hero in the musical, but they were definitely trying to make him a more sympathetic character.

In the film, there’s this element of mystery to him. What was his past? When did he start killing? Was HC his first or was framing murders as suicides always his M.O.? The film alludes to his mother’s presumed suicide as the catalyst for his strange fascination with death but it never comes out an says it. Maybe I like that because it’s also left a little ambiguous to how JD’s mother died. We all know he said it was a suicide - “she walked into a building right before my dad blew it up.” - but was that the whole truth? Did she really decide to die in such a way? Was she lured into the building under false pretences (every time I watch the film, I’m very suspicious of JD’s dad, and I get the feeling that he may have murdered his wife)?

I suspect that if this show continues, and based on reviews, it’s not looking good, we’ll see more of that: how his mother died and why he is the way he is.

I also wonder how much of the other characters they plan to change. In the show, Veronica’s only label seems to be that she thinks of herself to be a “good person”. In the film, she was bored with where she was in the school’s social hierarchy. JD provided her with adventure that she wasn’t finding at school or with her friends. JD disrupted that status quo, and that’s what was so intriguing to her. In this show, though, the status quo has already been disrupted. The outsiders are insiders now.So what could JD possibly offer than changes her whole perspective?

Betty or Martha

Just as in the musical, it seems as though these two characters get combined. Unless they intend to introduce or make mention of Martha “dumptruck” Dunnstock later, it seems as though she’s been combined with Betty Finn.

As for Betty, she’s not the innocent one you loved from the film. This one seems to be quite envious of Veronica. She’s got a chip on her shoulder, and after HC’s not-really-death she delivers a eulogy on campus which seems to be setting her up as the next Heather - the new sheriff in town, as it were. Though HD and HM are fighting to claim the void that HC left as the school’s ruler, it seems by the next day, Betty would take it upon herself to claim this role. And I really don’t know how I feel about that.

In the film, Betty was Veronica’s past and a place she to which she longed to return. Betty was her life before the Heathers. And she longed for that simpler time. She was a pleasant reminder of what Veronica used to have and what she was trying to get back. Similarly, Martha was Veronica’s future. After dethroning HD, Veronica befriends Martha, and they plan to spend prom together watching movies and eating popcorn. The chaos is out of her life, and Martha offers her a chance of normality.

Having said that, my next question is, what will be Veronica’s relationship with HM? In the film, HM was the quietest of the Heathers and only really partook in events because the rest of the group was. After HD mocked her for her troubles [Poor Little Heather], she attempted suicide - which was quickly stopped by Veronica who spotted the signs. Their relationship grew in the film because of this event. There was genuine caring and support that Veronica had with HM that she didn’t have with the other Heathers and I wonder if that will ever be explored in the show. I would love to see Veronica being friends with HM and Martha in the show, if the show doesn’t die a quick death, because those were the relationships that were being created at the end of the film so we didn’t get the chance to explore them further. Veronica saw the pain these women were having and made an effort to befriend and help them after they had both attempted suicide. That is something that would be really cool to explore, but I doubt they ever will.

Wait, so Heather Chandler didn’t die?

She did not. The final moments of the episode flashback to earlier that day where HC wakes up in the morning after having smashed through her table and seemingly died the previous night. At first, she’s pissed and is prepared to make Veronica and JD’s lives a living hell, that is, until she checks her phone and realises just how much more popular she has become now that people believe her to be dead.

And that’s where we leave things. We get a little sneak peek of episodes to come. HC will seemingly blackmail Veronica and JD to help bring about “justice” for her. Which appears to take the form of killing other students and framing them as suicides at HC’s request.

Final Thoughts

I think this could have been a really cool show had certain monikers not been attached. This show is both trying to pay homage to the film and be its own thing, and I feel like that could lead to its downfall. If the character had different names, this could be a really cool stand-alone show. The plot of the show will obviously have to deviate from the film to allow for multiple episodes, so it’s really only similar in a general concept and sporting characters with identical names to the film and musical.

Had this show been a looser adaptation/reboot or had it only been inspired by the film I could see it having a much longer life than it probably will. While I love the allusions to the film, this show is a drastic departure, and although I don’t hate it and could admire it as it’s owe thing (had the title been different and the characters’ names changed), I won’t be watching it any further.

If I’m a “stan” for anything, it would be the 1988 cult classic on which this show is based. But I just feel that the show is both trying really hard to be it’s own unique thing while also trying to be a love-letter to the film and I think that’s where it’s going to struggle.

#triggers:#child witnessing parent's death #suicide #murder #heathers tv show #heathers tv series #heathers pilot #heathers the musical #heathers film #heathers movie #heathers film reference #personal #analysis

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keramalusundeep · 4 years

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THE TRANSGENDER’S TRANCE

Let’s start with God. The answers are always easier that way. Someone I am most fond of once told me, “I pity atheists you know. Because they can’t ever blame God. They don’t have the privilege to ask ‘why God, why did you do this to me’.”

When the greater religions put a gun to our head and threatened us to jump in their well, we jumped. Who knew at the bottom of that well, we would find our superhero who went by the name Evolution!

Dismissing the need for any probation, evolution soon became the king of the jungle. When it roared, the jungle went into submission. But as we all know, no jungle worth its salt ever came without its poachers. The poachers came in the avatars of kings, queens, ministers, prophets, presidents, governors, our parents, our teachers, our communities, our whims, and our fancies. They drew the lines. The ones we were to not cross.

But, the thing is, our DNA came with an eraser, a pencil, a canvas, and a grave full of imagination. So even when we were put to rest, we dreamt. Our dreams made love to our mother earth, who politely went ahead and conceived the spiteful, incestual future of tomorrow, where we carried on the trend of effing our own kids with dreams and fantasies we were obliged to please.

When the tomorrow came, a man was born. He was named William Bruce Jenner. Six and a half decades later, in June 2015, he stood on top of the world and announced that he had changed his name to Caitlyn. Caitlyn Jenner. The world stood back in the stands and cheered him from all corners. Before the announcement, William had made all the required configurations in his biological geometry and aligned his chemistry to the integrity his new name would demand.

“I am so happy after such a long struggle to be living my true self. Welcome to the world Caitlyn. Can’t wait for you to get to know her/me.” Caitlyn posted on her twitter handle @Caitlyn_Jenner, which, along with the first tweet of her Vanity Fair cover went on to get a record-setting 1 million fans in less than 4 hours and 3 minutes straight. Whereas the most powerful man on earth, Barack Obama had taken 5 hours to pull the hanky 1 million in his @Potus basket, last month.

Wish Dora was here now to shower under the petals from the high gardens of Twitter. Dora, born as Rudolph R, was the first person to have gone under the knife in the first-ever recorded sex reassignment surgery (SRS) in 1931.

Long before Dora or Caitlyn, the mythologies blew mighty trumpets of accounts concerning legends who were both man and woman in one form. Tiresias, the Theban blind prophet is said to have compelling wisdom for his cursed gender transformations. Cupid, the God who makes our heart fond and stupid with our better halves, apparently, is a unisex God. Way to make a point that love . . . indeed has no gender. If that was not enough, hear this – Cupid’s high-profile mama and dada, Hermes and Aphrodite, were the inspiration for the term ‘hermaphrodite’ (a person with both male and female sexual characteristics and organs). And I believe that was Hollywood’s gospel when it came to spelling the Celebrity Supercouple Nicknames.

Even though the hand holding the umbrella for transgenders is the same, all five fingers of that hand are not. The race to attaining transgender nirvana has been chalked with 5 different tracks. The tracks are identified as transexual, transvestite, genderqueer, androgene, and bigender.

Writing about transgenders is hard. Being them is even harder. Imagine a left-hand drive car coming straight from the factory and claiming that it felt very much right-handed. Since nothing can be done about it, the car is now incapacitated and forced to pretend that it is indeed a right-hand drive car and just drive down the boulevard. Then we have the car that thinks that it is neither left nor a right hand drive, instead a centre-hand drive. Hey, don’t brag your eyes. I told you, already. It is complicated for transgenders.

Harry Benjamin, the famous German-American sexologist and chief medical advisor to Christine Jorgenson (the ex G.I., who, before Caitlyn Jenner, 60 years ago, became the pioneer in America for stealing all shows concerning her Sex Reassignment Surgery), said, “Our genetic and endocrine equipment constitutes either an unresponsive/fertile soil on which the wrong conditioning and a psychological trauma can grow and develop into such a basic conflict that subsequently a deviation like transsexualism can result.”

Let me give you an example. When androgen receptors (a nuclear receptor that regulates gene expression) is said to have a firm handshake with testosterone or dihydrotestosterone (sex steroid), it will lead to the formulation of primary and secondary male sex characteristics. Whereas, instead of a handshake, if the androgen receptors and testosterone have a face-off with each other, their alliance will be broken. Meaning, a person who is assigned as ‘male’ at birth will come to feel and identify that he belongs to the opposite sex.

Again, it will be a blasphemy to summarise the identity of one’s gender purely by a single theory alone. There are potent men with pornstar-sized penises who feel that they should be women, just as there are women who are super attractive, wear feminine clothes, and perfectly capable of conceiving, feel the urge to grow hair on their chest and dangle some testosterone between their legs.

Going by the biological complexity and psychological curiosity, it is evident that Agent X and Agent Y from the Sperm Maker Inc., when it comes to adjudicating the gender of a person, are futile as a burp in a storm.

Oppression, degradation, prejudice – a staple diet in the menu of transgenders, have been riddled with brutal attacks for merely holding a balloon called ‘me’.

In 1513, when the Spanish conquistador, Vasco Nunez de Balbao, found out that a village in Panama had men dressing up as women, he ordered his men to make sure the casual crossdressers and gay indigenes were “torn to pieces” by his pack of wild dogs.

In 2008, 15-year-old Lawrence King was killed by two bullets to the head. The killer was a 14-year-old boy from the same school.

Last week, Stephanie McCarthy, a transgender musician, who was just about to play her gig, was assaulted by five men at Newtown’s Town Hall Hotel in Sydney.  Yet, if we have a little courage to overlook the barbaric repercussions the transgenders have had to endure, we have come nowhere as close as today, when it comes to fighting for transgender rights. With Poland’s Anna Grodzka, becoming the first transexual MP in Europe to Donald Trump changing the rules in Miss Universe pageant that allowed Kylan Arianna Wenzel, the first transgender to participate in a Miss Universe competition to Madame Tussauds, San Francisco, recently announcing that it will feature a wax figure of Laverne Cox on June 26 during the Pride Week . . . the world of transgenders is on a slow and steady and progressive track. Laverne became the first ever transgender to star in the prestigious museum.

From the Indian wave, we have Manobi Bandopadhyay, who became India’s first transgender college principal when she took charge of Krishna Women’s College in West Bengal earlier this month. In 2014, the Supreme Court of India validated ‘transgender’ as the third sex.

With Caitlyn Jenner’s announcement, the transgender community in America and around the world are positive that going forward they will be able to see better days.

Obama, the first African-American to hold the office, was the first chief executive to inculcate the word ‘transgender’ in a speech, also openly prohibited job bias against transgender government workers, replied to Caitlyn’s second-ever tweet when she expressed her joy about finally being able to come out, “It takes courage to share your story.”

History is an ambitious gold digger eager to marry the most sought-after bachelor – ‘first-ever’. This century, we have had the privilege to see the changes the yesteryears had been begging and crying and hopelessly getting whipped for, just so they could live to breathe the aroma of this hopeful day – where the floods of transgender insurrection will come to overwhelm our naivety, for good.

#transgender #transexual #lgbtq #gay #america #india #queer

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thelemillion · 7 years

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Been on a trans!Junkrat kick lately. Can I get something where he gets kind of protective over a genderqueer s/o?

oh yes u can anon! I love my baby junker and would do anything for him c,: hope you don’t mind this one being a lil long! -mari

“Hey, y/n, ya ready to head on out?” Jamison wrapped his arms around you. You kissed his hand and nodded. He lead you downstairs and out to the car.

Tonight was a special night, to say the least. It’s been four years since Jamison came out to you as trans, and also your four year anniversary. You had told him the same night he came out that you were gender queer. The rest of the night was spent with so much love and acceptance.

Everyone at overwatch was accepting as well. They all immediately started using your preferred pronouns. You tear up just thinking about the memory.

So tonight, you were going to come out to your childhood friends. You asked Jamison to tag along because you froze up sometimes and didn’t know what to say. You hoped that they would accept you the same way everyone else has.

Arriving at the restaurant, you saw your friends outside waiting on you.

“Y/N!” Naomi waved at you and Mari appeared from behind her. You walked over to them, hand in hand with Jamison.

“It’s so nice to see you two again!” They engulfed you in a hug. After a little bit of small talk, you all four entered the restaurant.

When you all had finished eating and ordered dessert, you decided now was better than never. Jamison squeezed your hand under the table and gave you a small smile.

“So, I have something I want to tell you two.” They both looked up from their plates with interest.

“I’m, gender queer.” There. You said it.

They both looked at you and then at each other, and back at you.

“So what exactly does that mean?”

Okay, this could be worse. You bit the inside of your lip. “It means that I don’t identify as either genders.”

They stayed silent. Jamison spoke up.

“So like, instead of calling them, ‘she’ you can call them, them or they.” You we’re getting so flustered.

“Yeah um, we don’t really see the point in that.” Naomi rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, sorry, but we don’t get it, y/n.”

You didn’t know what to say. Of all the people that were going to reject you, you didn’t think it would be them. Tears built up in your eyes.

“Listen here.” Jamison’s tone was, stern.

“They aren’t comfortable with you putting a gender label on them, so what about that don’t you get? They’re an amazing person already, and they care so much about you two. So why can’t you just do this small thing for them?”

Naomi sighed.

“It’s just hard to remember-”

“Bullshit. Y/N is your friend. If you really cared about them, you would put forth the effort into trying to make them happy.”

“And what makes you so smart in this department, huh?”

“Because I am transgender. I know what it’s like to have to deal with people who don’t accept you. And the last thing I want for y/n is to have to go through that.”

Naomi and Mari stood up.

“Sorry, y/n, but I don’t think I can handle whatever is going on right now.” They both just walked out without another word.

Tears streamed down your face and Jamison asked the waiter for the check.

You were so heartbroken. The two people that had been there for you through it all, abandoned you because they didn’t try to understand. Your heart burned and you just wanted to go to sleep.

You both walked into your apartment in complete silence. Jamison took your hand and led you upstairs to your bedroom.

He sat down on the bed and twiddled his thumbs. What was he thinking?

You sat in front of him, knees up to your chest.

“Y/N.” His voice was shaking.

When you looked up at him, he wiped the tears out of your eyes.

“I just wanna keep you safe from all the horrible things in the world, and I feel like tonight, I failed.” You went to protest, but he continued.

“And I hate them so much for doing that. As shitty as it sounds, I want you to know that they weren’t your real friends if they couldn’t accept you for you. Like I said you’re fucking amazing and I-” Jamison choked up and pulled you into a hug.

“You are valid. Your pronouns are valid. Please never ever forget that.”

You just cried into his shoulder and he continued telling you that you are valid. You are.

#overwatch headcanons #overwatch imagines #junkrat x reader #jamison fawkes x reader #trans junkrat #ask #mari

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lakewitchjournal · 5 years

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Starting Out - 002

So it’s been a couple weeks. Where do I begin? There’s so much, and I feel like I’m trying to tackle it all at once. I’m very eager. I know it’s best just to start with research and focus in one area.

Let’s start with the podcasts.

So far the podcasts have been pretty hit and miss. I think I’m looking for a podcast that’s pretty comprehensive, but haven’t had much luck. Also having a Bachelor’s in making all things media, I’m certainly overly critical when it comes to quality. There’s been a couple that I’ve taken issue with. Asides of being critical of media, I’m extremely critical of ideologies. A little off topic here, but here’s somethings about me:

I’m anti-capitalist.

I’m an intersectional feminist. (Hi, if your feminism isn’t intersectional, it’s not feminism. TERFs [or FARTs, scum of the Earth, etc] get the FUCK out, don’t interact.)

I’m genderqueer.

I think (know) money and power are the root of all evil in this world. I despise these things with vehemence.

I don’t really know where I stand on a political spectrum, and I don’t really believe in this “left and right” thing. All I know is that you either care about people or you don’t. My politics are compassion based. Care for others, care for yourself, care for the Earth. Don’t really know how you could even politicize compassion, but in today’s day and age, it seems that being compassionate is ‘radical’. (If you must put a label on it, the best I can give you is a mix of the best of socialism, communism, and anarchism/anarcho-syndicalism.)

I don’t know a lot. But I try. I am aware of my short comings and ignorance, and am learning everyday. No one is perfect. I want to learn, I want to be a better and responsible human.

I’m very critical. (If you didn’t know this already.)

I’ve also come to terms with recently that I’m an empath. I’m going to make a seperate journal entry on this in the near future.

I can go on, but I feel like they’ll come up in later posts.

Anyways, back to podcasts. There’s been some podcasts I’ve run into with a heavy capitalist/right wing leaning and that’s been a huge turn off for me. But something I’ve noticed just exploring within the witch community are some very strange schools of thought that I don’t think mesh with the way of witchcraft. Here are some of the podcasts that I’ve tried:

The Witch Wave ✅

Rating: 8/10 (so far!)

So far I like this one. There’s a different guest for each episode exploring a huge range of different topics. Only three episodes in, but I’m going to continue listening through.

The Fat Feminist Witch ⚠️

Rating: 5.5/10

This one has really been hit and miss for me. There’s some really great episodes that I’ve really enjoyed and have been extremely helpful for me! And some of the topics are really intriguing. I particularly enjoyed the one about the history of Wicca. But there’s some strong capitalist leanings in some episodes that made me roll my eyes. I’m going to be selective with the episodes I listen to from this podcast.

Down at the Crossroads ❌

Rating: 2/10

I really didn’t like this one. I think just the format of it seemed too much and there’s unnecessary banter that I don’t care to hear between the hosts. Some people love that, I don’t.

The Wiccan Read-Along Podcast ⚠️

Rating: 6/10

This is basically audiobooks. Quality isn’t great, but it’s presented in a comprehensive way. Phoenix the Reader is easy to listen to. I take some issue with Wicca, but I’m interested in exploring it more! I want to learn everything.

The Hippie Witch ❓

I haven’t gotten into this one too much, but I didn’t really like it. Quality wasn’t great. I’m gonna give it a few more goes.

The Queer Witch Podcast ❓

Again, some biases here, but definitely some very cool thoughts. Need to give a few more goes. Poor quality.

New World Witchery ❓

I really want to like this one since it’s so highly recommended. Poor quality, but I’ll give it a few more goes.

Magick and Mediums ❌🚩

0/10, strongly DO NOT RECOMMEND

Okay so this one started out cool, but then in the second episode the host started talking about Glamour Magic and using it to make herself look ‘thinner’. The way she presented it was very fatphobic. A red flag. In addition to this she said (this is paraphrased, but if you want to confirm this for yourself, listen to the second episode of this podcast ‘Fairy Magic’): “I don’t know how this Glamour magic will work for you if you’re black.” That was a huge red racist flag for me. Stopped listening immediately, don’t recommend.

I understand that access to a good microphone is a matter of being able to afford it or not. So I recognize that’s a bias I have.

Books! Let’s move on to the books.

These have also been hit and miss, and I’ve run into a lot that have been poorly edited. I’ve been scouring the internet for recommendations on what to read for beginner witches, and also seeing what’s available at the library. Here’s some books that I’ve read or have started:

Witchcraft: Tales, Beliefs, and Superstitions from the Maritimes, by Clary Croft ⚠️

Rating: 4/10, no recommendation

So this one was just a fun read, mostly about superstitions. Not really anything here to learn from other than a little bit of the history of the belief in witchcraft in Canada’s Eastern provinces (mainly Nova Scotia and PEI). A lot of this stuff was really just people being bored and being petty to each other, people did crazy shit. This was the first book that came up on a search of ‘witchcraft’ at my public library. It looked like an interesting read so I gave it a shot.

The Modern Witchcraft Guide to the Wheel of the Year, by Judy Ann Nock ⚠️

Rating: 5/10 (so far), no recommendation

This book comes from a very heavily Wiccan perspective. I haven’t done too much historical fact checking on it, but I was dubious of it. Being genderqueer, I really didn’t like the exclusively female-centred perspective in it, but I get that that really floats some people’s boats. It’s so far pretty informative of Wiccan Sabbats, but certainly not fully comprehensive. There’s some recipes and craft instructions in it that might be cool for some people, but I didn’t particularly care for it. I may or may not finish this. I had to return it to the library before I could, and have placed another hold.

Material Girl, Mystical World, by Ruby Warrington ❓

Just started this one! Already there is a strong capitalist bias in it (can you tell from the title?), BUT there’s some really strong reviews of it, so I’ll continue to read it with a critical mind and take what I can from it.

Some apps I’ve been using-- I recommend all of these.

I’ve been using the app Labryinthos Academy to learn tarot, and I’m really enjoying it! I think it’s a great app and very comprehensive for basic learning. It’s free! No ads either. Rating: 10/10!

I started keeping a dream journal. Also in an app, I use Dream Catcher (not a great name or branding, I realize) and it’s great. You can set a passcode to enter the app, and use tags to keep track of patterns in your dreams. The interface is also really cool. It’s free! No ads yet, and there’s a paid version that just lets you analyze your patterns more and allows you cloud storage. Rating: 9/10!

I’ve been using the app Headspace to train my meditation skills. It’s really a great and flexible app. I’ve never meditated before, but this has really been helping me. This is free too for the basics. Rating: 9/10!

Okay, I’ll make a post another day about getting into crystals and incense, my experience with some basic intention setting, how I’ve been training to protect myself as an empath in public, guided meditation and past life regression meditation, some youtube videos that I’ve checked out, as well as the huge let down I experienced at an ‘expo’ here in the city.

March 21, 2019

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thisisemeralds · 7 years

Text

Journal Entry #3: Lots of stuff happened

So, in the last entry I mentioned coming out to a few online friends, and one local friend over online communication. Since then, I came out to two of my friends who are a lovely couple, both not really identifying strongly on the binary but presenting mostly as feminine. I almost cried a few times during that, but it went very well, they were very open and understanding, and I mean I kind of expected that, but it still felt good. That was on New Years Eve, I went to a party with all my highschool friends after, and it was a good time, but I felt kind of distant from them. I wasn’t ready to tell any of them, and I also didn’t want to make the new years party all about me. Because I had all of this on my mind, and because even before I was trans I am bi, and they’re all straight cis people and men mostly, I kind of felt like an outsider. It was a good night all and all, but not my favourite new years that’s for sure. It maybe helped me make up my mind for later though. I guess feeling emboldened by my earlier success at coming out, and the weight I felt holding me down at the party, I decided to come out to my mom. I had her sit down at the couch, and I explained like I had before to everyone else I came out to how I had realised after hearing the experiences of the TMR cast, that I was myself trans. I didn’t know exactly what that all entailed yet, and that I was trying to figure it out. She was almost immediately accepting, and honestly I was kind of floored. When I came out as bi, there was a bit of resistance, nothing major, but the whole questioning of how sure I was, if I really knew, but none of that happened. She even kind of made a joke about how I was supposed to be a girl when I was born. She’s told me that story before, that I guess she misheard the doctor, or something along those lines, or that she was hoping for one, I don’t remember the details but yeah. She didn’t necessarily understand everything, she wasn’t clear on what non-binary or genderqueer was, but there’s a good foundation there. She wants me to take it one step at a time, and I mean, I’m not clear on exactly what I want so I kind of agree. At the same time I kind of just want to jump head first into this though. I’m conflicted, I’m not sure if I’m just holding myself back or not. I think I know what I want but what if I’m wrong? It’s complicated, so I don’t mind that she’s a little hesitant because I am too. I have conflicting feelings I guess. The next day I came out to another friend, this time one I’ve known since junior high. He’s been going through his own stuff, depression and being diagnosed with type 2 diabetes. He accepted me instantly too, I mean, I didn’t expect him not to but after hearing so many horror stories about old friends abandoning you it was still a bit scary. We had a pretty great emotional moment, talking about what was bothering us and what we were going to do to take care of ourselves. I kind of want to just ride this wave of momentum and keep coming out to people. I almost did last night while hanging out with some online friends, but I didn’t feel like it was good oppurtunity. I will have to soon though, I’m working on something with them that would require me to come out kind of publically, so I think it’s better to tell them sooner than later. Just wasn’t a good time though, maybe I’m making excuses but I just didn’t feel it. I’m planning on calling my doctor for an appointment tomorrow, and I’m nervous as all heck. I suppose my next entry will be about how that goes. Wish me luck. This is Emerald.

#transitioning #trans mission radio #journal

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helloworlddemo1122-yahoopar-blog · 6 years

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'Alex Strangelove' Director on the Wish Fulfillment of His LGBT High School Sex Comedy (Exclusive)

Alex Strangelove is a story of boy meets girl, boy falls in love with girl, boy meets boy, boy might be falling for boy, too, and, oh yeah, boy might actually be gay, but it is all very confusing. In the Netflix comedy, Alex (Daniel Doheny) is a high school senior obsessed with cephalopods, among other wildlife, and with losing his virginity to his girlfriend, Claire (Madeline Weinstein). Until he meets a cute boy, Elliott (Antonio Marziale), at a theater party and everything gets complicated. Director Craig Johnson (The Skeleton Twins) was inspired by his own coming out story, right down to the love of wild animals -- though these days a far more domestic critter is occupying his time.

"We just got a dog this weekend, so we're, like, little nervous daddies, running around, making sure that we don't screw it up," Johnson says of the Corgi mix, Winston, he and husband Adam Roberts adopted. "He's not entirely housebroken, so we are going to roll up our sleeves and get to it. Keep me in your thoughts and prayers, as they say." With Alex Strangelove now streaming on Netflix, ET phoned Johnson to discuss turning his most "embarrassing" life experiences into a teen sex comedy and comparisons to Love, Simon.

ET: This is being called your most personal film yet. What from your life inspired this story?

Craig Johnson: I look at this film as the sexual confusion of my teens and my 20s crammed into one kid's senior year of high school. [Laughs] I had a long, circuitous journey of coming out incrementally over the years, in my 20s, and there was all kind of struggle that led to, you know, encounters, dating women when I was, in the back of my head, questioning whether or not this was even what I wanted, which led to, in retrospect, some funny and embarrassing moments. At the time, they were just purely confusing and embarrassing.

But when I eventually came out as gay, I thought about my journey and thought, Wow. You know what? In this day and age where it's a possibility for kids to come out of the closet in high school -- that really wasn't the case when I was in high school in the '90s, but now that it is a possibility, I love the drama of that. Because you can do it now! So, in 2018, what does that mean? And I think it's actually, perhaps, even more confusing, because everything's on the table. Now, you can make multiple choices. Are you bi? Are you gay? Are you poly? Are you genderqueer? And it seemed like a real dramatic premise for a high school sex comedy.

Was anything that happens in the movie lifted directly from your life? Or was it capturing the spirit of that time in your life?

Oh, boy. OK! Well, here's the embarrassment. While the encounters are not necessarily directly autobiographical, there's a moment where Alex is trying to consummate with a drunk sorority girl and at one point, she goes, "Sweetie, are you getting shy?" That may or may not have been said to me in a moment of consummation with a female. We'll put it like that.

Yeah, that is something you would hold on to. Hopefully now that it's on film, you can release it.

That's what I'm hoping! Talking about this film is cheaper than therapy.

I was also told that you call Alex your "surrogate." How close is he to who you were then?

Oh, incredibly similar. I was kind of a nature freak, obsessed with weird animals. I was always a people pleaser as a high school kid -- I always wanted everybody to like me. I got good grades. I was probably overcompensating, which I think is very common for queer, closeted teenagers. I was trying to overcompensate because I knew I had this thing that could render me unlikable, and so that is all part of Daniel Doheny's performance. Weirdly, when we cast Daniel, he's from Vancouver, BC, and I grew up in Bellingham, Washington, which is, like, 45 miles south. When I met him, he just reminded me of me when I was a teenager.

Winston aside, are you still into exotic animals?

Very much so, yeah, and as soon as you declare a favorite animal-- Like for me, everyone knows that I love octopuses, so our shelves are littered with little octopus sculptures and little octopus gifts that people have gotten us. I still am a total weird animal freak, and maybe even have an action-adventure, sci-fi movie about weird animals in my system down the road.

Photo by Walter Thomson/Netflix

To a degree, whenever we gay men write about coming out, as we are wont to do, there is an element of wish fulfillment to it. How we wish our experience could have been. Was that the case for you?

One hundred percent. I never had an Elliott character in my life when I was a teenager. Eventually, later on in college, I did run into quote-unquote Elliott and that is the wish fulfillment. I think about how I would have maybe come to some conclusions a lot sooner had I met an Elliott, someone who was brave enough to live out and openly, who could sort of nudge me a little bit without pushing me or outing me. But Elliotts were harder to come by in the '90s, so I think wish fulfillment is a very apt term for the Elliott-Alex relationship.

You talk about high school in the '90s, but I was in high school in the later aughts, and even then, there still weren't many openly gay kids. It's still so cool, but so surprising, when I see these gay teenagers just out and living their life. It's beautiful but it's also, like, "How is this possible?!"

Oh, I know! And yet I still think that even now that it's an option to come out, the struggle becomes an internal one. For Alex, it really is a struggle of, What am I into? He's got this wonderful girlfriend, who is his best friend, who he loves more than life itself. He truly does love Claire and is so emotionally invested in her. On paper, they are the perfect couple, but for this one thing that is really part of the heartbreaking journey for him. And I think that's the case for many closeted teenagers who have really close relationships with girls -- which is almost every closeted teenager, I think -- and that was really important to me, that that relationship between a kid struggling with his sexuality and his girlfriend, that's a relationship that I really hadn't seen depicted in film before in the way that I remember it and lived it.

I feel like it's only been in the last five or six years that this younger generation has just really embraced more of an open view towards sexuality. I conceived of the idea 10 years ago, and I would update the script to reflect that. Alex, his struggle is not that he's going to come out and then he's going to get beat up or get disowned by his parents. We're sort of beyond that story -- I mean, not in all regions, certainly -- but for this story, I wanted to talk about a kid where his struggle is not what's going to happen to him if he comes out. It was more internal. We would bring the script around to traditional studios, all of whom really loved the story, but they all wanted, like, a teacher character or a parent character to be more prominent so we could cast Meryl Streep and get the movie funded. But Netflix believed in it being a story about the kids and Netflix said, "Hey, we love this. Cast whoever you want."

Why was it important for you to tie the ending of the movie into YouTube coming out videos and the "It Gets Better" movement?

You know, we talked a lot about that. It was always in the script, and I just liked the idea of giving the movie, situating it with a little bit of social context of where we are today. I knew that a lot of young people would be watching the movie and I think for what the movie is, I like the idea of giving that real-world context to a story, to show that Alex's story is one of many thousands of stories of kids in this country today dealing with this and telling their stories. I thought that it could be meaningful to young people, but to anybody who's maybe questioning their sexuality at any age.

You describe this as a teen sex comedy, but a lot of the comedy of sexuality revolves around straight sex. Do you think it is possible to get a teen sex comedy where the sexual comedy is with gay sex made?

Oh, absolutely. Absolutely. You'd have to think about what sort of then is the storyline and the conflict. For me, it's always about, What is the drama of the story? And the comedy always comes from the drama. In this case, when you have a kid struggling with his sexuality and really wanting to make things work with his girlfriend, the comedy then naturally fell into trying to make straight sex work. But, oh yeah, [in] the next wave of this, I'm sure. I'd love to see a high school comedy where you're dealing with gay kids and there are all kinds of gay sex hijinks. Maybe I'll write a sequel.

There have been a lot of comparisons between Alex Strangelove and Love, Simon. With Love, Simon, there was this response from people asking, "Do we even need this movie anymore?" That maybe it wasn't queer enough for 2018, with criticism over centering the film on a more masculine, white male. Is that anything you grappled with in making this?

You know, I didn't. Partially because, for better or for worse, I am a white male. [Laughs] And I was telling an autobiographical story, so that's just where this movie landed for me. First of all, let me say that I think that criticism is legitimate. We should always be striving for diversity in these movies. That said, I would argue that a lot of the audience for Love, Simon wasn't necessarily, you know, queer kids. I'd like to think that queer kids would enjoy it, but let's invite 13-year-old girls to the party and our straight allies to the party, who can maybe for the first time encounter a coming out story that maybe helps them think about their closeted friend in the seventh grade. I think the audience for Love, Simon was diverse and the 13-year-old girls weren't necessarily thinking about that masculine kid in the lead role in the way that I am as an out adult, you know? Which I wasn't, personally, because I enjoyed Nick Robinson's performance in that.

With Alex Strangelove, I'd like to think that we might even be inviting straight guys to the party, because there are all the tropes of the raunchy sex comedy -- sex scenes gone wrong and drug trip outs and party hijinks and all this stuff. I'd like to think there's a straight kid out there who sees the movie and goes, "Yeah, I really liked it. Yeah, there was some gay stuff in it, but I really liked it!"

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