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razzberrydazz · 4 months ago

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Reading the Sisters of Dorley is a very interesting experience, I have thoughts about it

The writing is absolutely superb, the characters feel So REAL, all of these characters feel fleshed out with their own inner worlds, the building of tension and plot points has me on the edge of my proverbial seat at the Drama of it all, it has me having to take breaks from reading so I can Process it all and revel in the prose, there are distinct phrasings and poignant points that stick in my brain, the descriptions of dyphoria are very visceral and real, the process of the bodily transitions very believable, the pacing is slow enough to bathe in the details while fast enough to not lose interest and get stuck in the mud, the force fem joke novelty mugs are hilarious - it's a great read!

I'm technically on book two now I believe? It's an incredibly niche setup - ya probably won't be interested unless you happen to be trans yourself, or are into forced feminization plots. It takes the popular yet oft transmisogynistic concept of forced femme and turns it on its head - taking a concept often used as humiliation fetish (not yucking your yum here, just using as example) that implies that a man becoming a woman makes them lesser for the purpose of erotic degradement, and turns it into a method of self-actualization that embraces femininity as a source of healing instead of degradation. There is the lore dynamic between the current way Dorley Hall is ran, under Aunt Bea - as a form of (forced) rehabilitation, where asshole abusive men get transformed into 'good girls' and use femininity as a teaching tool to unlearn toxic masculinity - and the Old Way the Hall was ran, under Grandmother - a full-on torture fest rife with SA, trafficking, and murder all to tittilate a group of sick individuals who get off on seeing men forced into the bodies and roles of women and yet denied the dignity to embrace the hand they were dealt.

One concept I wish could be delved into further - and perhaps it is delved into further later on past the point I've read so far - of there being toxic femininity, that just as masculinity can be toxic, so can femininity. It would be interesting to see if this ever gets touched on, as well as if more healthy examples of masculinity are shown to contrast the toxic masculinity of the men taken to Dorley Hall.

I'm a transmasc individual, so I'm kind of on the other side of the boat (so to speak) from most of the characters in this setting, which is interesting perspective - I've dealt with what I consider toxic femininity as well as toxic masculinity, which I think are both a proponent of misogyny and patriarchy. I take care to not fall into that pitfall of toxic masculinity if I can help it.

Conversion practices affect men and women alike - I'm not just talking conversion therapy, but also the smaller things that often go in tandem but are not as extreme - forcing children to wear gender conforming clothes, only allowing them to play with 'appropriate' toys, scolding girls for acting 'like boys' and scolding boys for acting 'like girls', the constant reinforcing of societal gender roles. Especially in the US, part of that societal gender role for girls involves dressing and acting in ways that is appealing to men, conforming to the want of a future hypothetical husband who wants children, bowing to the role of a childbearing homemaker.

And then when you take femininity and inject the hatred of men, you have another conundrum - toxic femininity (especially the man-hating kind) is exclusionary and bigoted in that it ignores the intersectional ramifications. Toxic feminity of this kind continues to be transphobic and transmisogynistic - TERFs often see transmascs as 'traitors' or delusional women, and often see transfemmes as predatory imposters and deny their womanhood. Toxic femininity often is sickeningly white - white radfems will ignore the ramifications of race, ethnicity, disability, class, and other factors and paint all men with the broad brush of 'men bad'. A toxicially feminine white woman who thinks all men are pigs still has societal power over a black man, but to her all men are threats, and so in acting out her hatred of men she is perpetuating racism.

Men and women are not natural enemies or opposites, despite what culture and society at large may want to impose on us. It is not productive to assume all men are stupid rage-filled lustful idiots, or any of the other negative stereotypes, just as it's not productive to stereotype all women as over-emotional weak ditzes. Yes, there are a lot of factors in society at large that can predispose men to be a certain way - men are victims of the system in place just as women are. Misogyny hurts men too, in the conversion practices to reinforce patriarchy, anything that's not toxically masculine is seen as emasculated and degrading. So much as having a decent hygeine routine and dressing nicely can get a man labeled as gay or fruity and bullied for it. Gods forbid a guy likes to wash his ass and wear something other than a wrinkled T-shirt and cargo shorts, apparently.

I think it's a shame that so many actions are written off as emasculating, toxic masculinity is so precarious and insecure that I've even seen a man refuse to use an umbrella because that was somehow too girlish of him. There's this attitude of aversion towards anything Girly, that anything not Extremely Masculine is therefore feminine, when in reality things can just be things without ascribing a gender dammit!

With toxic masculinity and femininity both, they are insecure mindsets, looking for any cracks, looking for anything to ridicule or use to invalidate someone's position on the masc/femme scale. 'Oh you do a skincare routine? That's fruity, that's gay, that's what girls do. Oh you cut your hair short? That's gay, that's boyish, you look like a boy.' The constant expectation that if you don't conform to one side of the coin or the other, you're failing, you're bad at being a gender.

It's not a coin flip though, it's a spectrum, a horseshoe if you ask me - gender is nebulous and very individual in experience, and being toxic on either side leads to being surprisingly similar in insecurities.

Ultimately extremism is the problem, and villifying innocuous actions is another problem - let men do 'girlish' things, let women do 'boyish' things, let people be without constantly shoving them into boxes regardless of whether they fit or not.

All this rambling to say, I wonder how Dorley Hall would handle a trans man - picture with me if you will, a fully post-op trans man with penis and everything, who in his attempts to pass and stave off dysphoria leans into toxic masculinity and becomes as toxic as the cis men around him, and he gets taken to Dorley Hall.

This man, who went from being stifled by toxic femininity to clinging onto toxic masculinity as a crutch, now faced with the horror of being forced into that dysphoric femininity again. Would he 'wash out'? Would he tell the truth of his situation and would the Sisters at the Hall believe him? Would they free him early or force him to still undergo the mutilating 'rehabilitation' knowing he's undergone reassignment surgeries before and therefore this would retraumatize him? How would they handle such a case? It really intrigues me to think about.

Dorley frames its methods as a way to force toxic men stop using their toxic masculinity as the basis of their sense of self, to cast off the poisonous life-vest of it and learn to swim without it so to speak. How would they handle someone who has already lived the life of a woman, who then still chose to put on that social armor of toxic masculinity and hurt others due to it? Would they try to instill a sense of healthy masculinity? Would they try to recontextualize womanhood for the trans man so that he can relearn his association with it and be less averse to it?

It's such an intriguing concept to chew on for me. I LOVE its concept of using forced feminization as a way to instill positive uplifting femininity, that becoming a woman is not a degrading thing but an empowering one. I'll need to read more to see if any of my thoughts get addressed, or if I'll have to write my own fic about it, probably both. I know it's a transfem-focused story, as it should be, and so I don't expect my musings to factor in, it's just interesting to think about. I'm glad there's a story like this available to reaffirm transfemmes and recontextualize force femming as a positive thing, an empowering thing.

Thanks for coming to my 3am ramble I hope any of this is coherent kthxbyeee

#razz rambles #dorley hall #sisters of dorley #i have so many thoughts #media analysis #trans thoughts

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theunspeakablehorror · 1 year ago

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Zenyatta x Trans Reader (ftm)

2600 words I wrote this as a gift for @techromancer1179. We love his hands

Mainly fluff and smut a little comfort 🔞

Zenyatta comed through the various emotional states radiating from people in the room only to see that your mental state needed his intervention.

Around the mountain of blankets you had turned into zenyatta leaned in to place a tea set where your head would have been. You grunt in response and stick an arm out of your cocoon to pull in your treasures.

“Sit up Dear. The tea will help.” Zenyatta said, gently bringing your shoulders off the table and readjusting your blankets to ensure maximum heat retention.

You gave him a groggy ‘thank you’ as he returned to cooking on the stove whilst you held the teacup in hand taking careful sips of the hot drink.

While he cannot taste the food, Zen has a sizable repertoire of dishes he can prepare. With your condition in mind, he opts for a simple slice of toast with an egg and two bacon slices.

Placing it down in front of you, you begin to ravage the sandwich like you hadn't eaten in the last 8 hours or the 10 before that. How long had you been working?

You had been in overtime hell as WP:Gibraltar struggled to resume full functionality with less than 100 agents, most of whom were in the field or too exhausted from their last deployment to help.

Zen’s orb of harmony spun to your shoulder as he turned to place another toasted sandwich on the counter. The bulk of the aching and discomfort seemed to wash off like you were in a steam bath. Still not in top shape but at least you looked less like a blanket zombie and more alive.

You stood up briefly to tap your forehead to his as a gesture of a kiss and felt the small current he sent through it and you gave a pleased hum in response.

Genji soon arrived to eat the other plate of prepared food although less ravenously than you had. You could hear them discuss something between them and watch the transfer of a black plastic bag from genji to zenyatta.

You were curious as to the bags contents, but knowing them, it is probably incense sticks or something to improve their meditation space.

Speaking of meditation space, zenyatta offered a hand to guide you along the pathways. The day’s spot was set among hyacinths and lavender buds.

You begin your exercises. Quieting the outside world, relaxing your limbs, and positioning yourself.

Zenyatta sat in the middle with you and Genji on either side of him facing him with a gap between you.

Meditation did well in calming the mind but your body still aches from the excess labor. You were about to go take the hottest steam bath of your life when Zenyatta stopped you with a quick gesture to move towards him.

“I see you are still under physical stress” he begins “I believe I can help with your ailment,” cocking his head slightly while holding that black bag Genji brought him.

You had been dating for a while and yet Zenyatta never seems to initiate sexual encounters. But if the black bag and his subsequent gesture to his room was anything like you thought it might be, Zenyatta has a plan in store for the night's activities.

“That would be greatly appreciated” you groaned as the two of you walked the length of the hall to his room. The room was dimly lit with candles and a table. correction. a massage table was in the center surrounded by incense and oils, now added to with the contents of the black bag.

“You deserve to take a break” he soothed, sliding behind you and reaching his arms around your neck. You sighed at the weight but his metal is always much warmer than you remember.

But, a body-heater was not in Zenyatta's plan. He gently guided you to the edge of the table and pulled his faceplate up and to the side of your face, whispering “I can go as far as you want and get into the muscles you need. Anywhere. Just ask.”

You stared with a dusting of blush at the omnic in front of you who just gave you a free ticket for anything between a normal massage and sensual touching to full on passionate sex.

You were broken out of your trance when Zen stepped into the bathroom and asked you to get undressed to your comfort level. You were debating covering your chest but you had already talked to him in great detail about your gender and held great trust in him. Underwear stays on. You were not sure that Zenyatta knew you did not have a penis. Maybe he had a preference for either. Maybe he wouldn't like you with a vagina. Negative thoughts started to cloud your head and as if on cue Zenyatta gently knocked on the door, “are you alright? I can perform a massage with clothes if you would prefer”

“NO! no. I’m ok. Just--lost in thought for a moment. I’m ready” you replied as though you weren't just on the verge of tears. When you stepped out, Zenyatta had pulled the sheet back and gestured for you to lay face down underneath, though he had turned his head to look away. For now it seemed he would go the traditional massage route, though his face rarely gave away his expressions.

The massage was exactly what you needed as Zenyatta expertly worked through your back that had been bent over various computers and storage boxes for weeks along with your feet which you had been forced to stand on for long stretches that your inserts were not helping with.

You were so lost in the feeling of relaxation that it was now time to flip over. Zenyatta helped with the sheet and helped you shuffle down onto the bed.

“It is not standard to massage the dorsal abdomen. Would you like me to?” He asked, hanging his head upside down over yours. His ministrations on your back had certainly welcomed the idea of a repeat exercise, but Zenyatta had never actually seen your top scars before. What if he didn't like them or he thought less of you.

You tip your head back more to get a better eye to eye look and manage to crack out “Are you sure you don't mind?

He stared at you for a time in silence before you piped up to clarify “My scars from top surgery and I never got bottom surgery so if you think it's gross or weird or something we…we can just leave it here.” You started to cry, digging up all your negative emotions about your body and how you could never be loved. Especially by someone like Zenyatta. Who were you to even touch him?

You startle slightly as his thumbs ghost over your scars in a long, gentle stroke outwards. The metal has warmed up significantly since he began, but you still groaned at the slight touch.

“Dearest,” he began, breaking the silence, “you are beautiful.” His hands trailed upwards to cup your face. “You are incredible and your scars are proof of your strength. Of your resolve.” Tears began to well up and he moved to wipe them away. “I treasure you. Regardless of your physical appearance.”

One hand remained on your face, catching stray tears while the other moved to stroke languidly through your hair. After some time you pulled yourself up to sit, with your legs dangling off the side, and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him tightly to your chest.

He hummed appreciatively and reciprocated the hug, rubbing large circles into your back. His hands trailed down your arms to hold your own as he pulled away. “We do not decide the bodies we are born in. I admire your courage to change and to grow. Who you chose to be is your decision. Trust in me to love all of who you are.”

You reach behind his head and pull him in to kiss the line of his faceplate as a worldless declaration. “Will you allow me to show you my affections?” Ha asked, subtly stroking his thumb over your open palm and leaning to press his forehead to yours.

“I trust you,” you respond, words trembling. “Thank you Dearest,” he said, bringing his hands to your sides. He drew shapes over your abdomen with his fingers, marveling at how the skin dipped and moved against his actions.

His fingers moved lower, catching on your pelvis and following the curve toward your inner thighs. He danced around your core, leaving wispy touches nearby but never close enough. Heat began to rise as Zenyatta continued his teasing excapade, trying to figure out where you liked to be touched and kneely listening to how you would respond with little sighs or catch your breath when he did something right.

You begane to wriggle slightly to get more friction where you wanted, but Zenyatta was quick to grab your thighs and hold them apart. You groan in annoyance and Zenyatta notes the damp area on your underwear.

His fingers moved to your waistband but he remained still, looking at you to ensure your comfort and acceptance. You take a big, calming breath before giving him the go ahead with a small smile.

Your hands also moved to the waistband to help yourself out of them. Zen folded them neatly and placed them on a nearby chair. Looking at the chair you motion to help him take off his clothing. “I don’t want to be the only one naked in here,” you look at him with a bit more confidence. He chuckles, “of course Dearest.” His clothes were folded and placed on the same chair very meticulously before he turned back to you.

Your legs weren't crossed but the hands you were resting on your lap blocked most of his view. He kmelled in front of your pressed knees and asked if he could come in and admire you. You laugh a bit at the strange comment but open your thighs just enjoy that Zenyatta could see the smallest bit.

His hands ran along the undersides of your thighs before they moved inwards to pull their plush slide and improve his view. “You are beautiful here as well,” he coos. “Even if you decide to change. I am sure you will be just as beautiful with a penis. Just as you are with a vagina. I trust you and your decisions. As long as you keep yourself safe.” He chuckles at the end as normally it’s him who will keep you safe.

He worried about the surgery for what it was and not what it did. There could be complications or something could go wrong, get mixed up. And healing after can be a mixed bag. He just wanted you to have the best and safest surgery if that was the path you went down. Maybe he would learn to do it himself, have Angela teach him how.

His hands slid up your thighs and over your pubic mound. Still avoiding your core which had been weeping slightly at his other touches. He brought himself closer to your core, his optics trained on the sight and illuminating your folds in a pale blue.

The anticipation and sight of Zenyatta between your legs was getting you heated. Your hips were fidgeting and you moved your pussy closer to his face to encourage him to do something.

He chuckled and lifted his head from between your thighs to look you in the face and ask, “do I have your permission Dearest?” “I trust you,” you replied in shaky breaths.

He placed one hand on each thigh and placed his thumbs tantalisingly close to your entrance. He used the fingers on his left hand to draw long, broad strokes through your folds while high right hand moved much higher to your nipples.

While he did not have a mouth, he made quick work with both your nipples, making you arch your back into his touch. He would ghost around the areola then pinch and roll the bud between his forefingers . Your favorite move is the slight vibrations Zenyatta produces to calm the abused flesh. It feels like a vibrator on low, maybe lower.

His left hand continues inta broad strokes but the vibration technology would soon find its way to your clit. You jerk at the sudden simulation as he presses his now vibrating thumb over the nub.

His left hand, done teasing your nipples, collects your lubricant which had begun to spill onto the table. He looks at his fingers and wonders if he could find the exact chemical compound in exchange for not being able to taste it as Cassidy mentioned one should do.

Sufficiently lubricated he pushed one finger into your folds and quickly added a second when he found little resistance “You are so relaxed. You are doing well Dearest,” he says in a high tone with a hum of affirmation and affection.

With vibrations along your sensitive walls and on your clit, you knew you wouldn't last much longer. “Touch me more!” you cry out as you feel the knot of your orgasm begin to form.

Anything Dearest. May I?” He pulls you onto his lap with your back pressed against his chest. His hands immediately went back to their work bringing you to orgasm. A flash of gold appeared from Zenyatta as six new hands appeared behind him and began to wrap around your form.

Some toyed with your nipples like zenyatta had done before but now in tandem. Another was gently stroking your hair and moving any loose strands out of your face. Two kept your thighs spread as far wide they could go to give Zenyatta the maximum space to work. The last was rubbing circles on your stomach to keep you relaxed and grounded as you soared toward your orgasm.

There wasn’t an inch of skin Zenyatta left untouched as his gold arms danced across your body. He adds a third finger into your pussy and aims at you g-spot vigerougly, well as vigorous as much as someone like Zenyatta could be.

Your breaths were heavy and the coil was tight, almost, almost ready to snap. He increased the vibrations inside and out before you felt the coil snap and you went tumbling over the edge of your orgasm.

Zenyatta helped you through your orgasm while you moaned out his name. Turning quickly, he grabbed a towel and a glass of water he had prepared previously. “Is there anything else you need Dearest?” he asked in a happy tone. When you shook your head no he asked, “Do you feel more relaxed?”

You honestly do. From his excellent massaging skills to your mind melting orgasm. You hadn't felt this good in months. “I feel amazing,” you sigh in relaxation, “and thank you for loving me.”

“No thank you for trusting me Dearest. With your body and your feelings. I am always here for you if you want to talk about it further or just want to talk about your week.” He listed off, “If you are sad I could tell you a joke or give you a hug.”

While you doubted his ability to tell jokes. He hugs better than any other. A place to talk. One on one. With the love of your life. About whatever you want. Sounds like a dream.

“I would love to Zen”

“Thank you Dearest”

#tekartha zenyatta #zenyatta #zenyatta x reader #smut and fluff #first fic #be nice #i love service top zen #trans reader

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colorisbyshe · 4 months ago

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Monthly Music 250131

Still working thru Bad Bunny's album but standouts for me are "Perfumito Neuvo," "VeLDÁ," & "Ketu Tecré." Amazing progression from his last album as he becomes more experimental and genre bending and his crooning really matches the more sentimental moments spread across the album

Fka Twig's entire album except the final track (which is good just.. not for me). I chose my stand out tracks and it's literally the entire album. This album feels like a possession, a haunting at the club. It's intimate, it's inside you, it's pouring out. If I was gonna select a new track (not pre-release) to introduce you... maybe "Striptease" or "Girl Feels Good" but imo just click shuffle and jump right in. The album is so ecclectic it can be picked apart and enjoyed however you'd like. My current fave is "Keep It, Hold It" but it changes daily.

"JRJRJR" by Jane Remover. Trans hyperpop that is... messy in the way only hyperpop can pull off. This song is like 5 fireworks going off at once.

"Protect the Cross" by JPEGMAFIA is similar explosive. Confrontational, rocking, this song steps on your throat and jumps.

Vibe shift: "Gravity" by Lacuna Coil is like running in the middle of a battle between axe wielding brutes and magic wielding priestesses. Growling, wailing metal.

Vibe shift back again: Mandopop's princess is back. Lexie Liu's "Come Dance (Miu Miu Encounters)" probably is a stepdown from her PERFECT album The Happy Star but still enthralling for anyone into dance music. Yeah, I will grab my mama and come dance

Vibe shift part 3: Want Japanese METAL? Nemophilia is female led and... scary at times. My current faves off their new album are "Just Do It!" "Anatadare" and "Good as hell quartet." Very high energy and spirited

Kpop break: Onew came out with new music! I think I already gloated about "Yay," so check out "Boy." A song that makes you want to walk and dance to the beat while going along t your day--it's pep in your step.

My FAVE track: "True Religion" by Shygirl, Isabella Lovestory, and Pinkpantheress. Just a force of nature from some of the best girlies in the industry rn.

I recommend but not as strongly because I realized this post is too long and I need a read more but tbh I really do love these songs:

"Hypnotized" Anyma & Ellie Goulding. Kinda generic but intense. I just like Ellie when she's doing EDM

"Forbidden Tale" Bandmaid. Kinda generic JRock but uplifting. Kinda feels like being shot out of a cannon and soaring thru the sky a bit.

"Paradox" by Guest Room isn't for everyone It's where Japanese indie R&B, a bit of jazz, and a bit of city pop meet and curl up together. It feels like a bath with epsom salts, wine, and a nice massage but without the sleepiness.

Keke Palmer came out with a lil album. It's just good pop R&B; not quite Flo tier but "S.O.B." kinda reminded me of Aaliyah a lil bit.

In a similar good but not inventing the wheel space "Lucky" by Kim Wan Sun and Seulgi is a retro throwback track. Like Wonder Girl's Reboot album but less sparkling. A rejected b side perhaps.

"Believe In Ya" T-Pain and YAEJI???? and Girl Talk. I don't know if this song and its interpolation of "Hold Tight" is good but I'm having a fucking blast I know this song goes off with a vodka lemonade in hand!

#monthly music #music

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specterings · 2 years ago

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thinking about john price with a s/o thats a mutt.

nsfw under the cut

cw / implied trans price, pet play, subtop!amab!reader, only pronouns are ‘you’, biting, dom!bottom price, dubcon play? price gets ‘stuck’ im note sure now to tag it, breeding mentions of price from price, unprotected penetration, cumming inside :P i’ll probably continue this later idk. reader is called mutt, mongrel, pup, &. dog

john price who’s partner is a mutt. he knew it the second he saw how you panted into his neck as you fucked him, saw it in the way youd bite at his shoulders, lick his fingers, looked at collars with a bit of longing when you’d scroll through sites, looking for more toys.

what he hadn’t anticipated was that you weren’t a puppy, you were a mutt— like some feral stray he had picked up on the streets. you ate too quick, sometimes bit his fingers when he fed you, shook the water on him when he gave you a bath. you like being bad, and he likes letting you be bad. a little mangy mutt.

it changes some days, so he’s got numerous collars for how you wanna play it out. he’d come home from shopping to you nowhere to be found, but the thick, heavy collar with spikes, for when you wanted to be a big, bad dog, was gone from the little rack in your room.

price goes into the play room, which is locked up with a key when company comes over, and its easy enough to find you gnawing on a tough toy, in your little place in the corner since youre too bulky and big for a crate. you’re watching something on your phone, but youve long since fallen asleep.

he just laughs and walks back out, after turning your phone off and taking it to put it on a charger. he does miscellaneous things around the house til he hears you shifting around, before he reaches to get something from under the bed, cursing loudly when he gets stuck. he hears you come in, his lower half dripping with arousal, and gasps when you bite at his waistband and tug his pants down. “hey! bad pup!” he scolds, but it falls on deaf ears as intented, when you pull down his boxers too.

he cant help the moan that he lets out when you begin fucking into him with vigor, shoving your cock straight into his stretched hole and immediately fucking him, balls slapping against his little dick, groaning as your hands grip him roughly around the hips. “fuck! fuck, good mutt, fucking me so deep,” he can hear your growl and his hoke fluters around you, “g-gonna breed me? gonna give me a whole litter of babies- shit!” he yelps as you bite into the skin of his back, deep enough to leave bruises no doubt. you keep fucking him until he cums, and then keep it up even after that, making him moan and claw at the floor, bulky shoulders pinned between the bedframe and the floor.

he gasps as you cum deep inside him, and groans as you pull out, only to immediately begin licking up your mess on his oversensitive hole. “g-good dog…” <3

#cal writes.#n/sft #captain john price #captain john price x reader #captain price #ftm

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irisandtheveilkeepers · 2 months ago

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Chapter 4: I think I took bright student too literally

A gentle knock pulled me from dreams filled with shifting light and strange symbols. I blinked awake to find the magical window now showing a sunny Parisian morning, the Notre Dame Cathedral bathed in golden light. For a moment, I could almost believe last night had been nothing but an elaborate dream.

The knock came again.

"Come in," I called, sitting up and running a hand through my tangled hair.

Selene entered, looking far more put together than anyone had a right to at this hour. She carried a small stack of folded clothes and what appeared to be a leather messenger bag.

"Morning," she said, setting the items on a nearby chair. "How did you sleep?"

"Surprisingly well, considering everything." I gestured vaguely at the room, the window, the entire impossible situation. "Though I had strange dreams."

"Oh?" Selene raised an eyebrow, suddenly alert. "What kind of dreams?"

I hesitated, unsure how much significance dreams held in this new reality. "Mostly light. Patterns of light that seemed to form symbols. And a voice saying something about... a 'child of divided light'?"

Selene stilled, her expression carefully neutral in a way that immediately told me this meant something.

"Just stress dreams, probably," I added quickly.

"Probably," she agreed, but her tone lacked conviction. "I brought you some clothes. Nothing fancy, just standard training gear."

I examined the pile: sturdy charcoal pants with multiple utility pockets that appeared both practical and stylish, a fitted long-sleeved shirt in a deep sapphire blue that reminded me of the midnight sky, and a lightweight jacket that caught my eye immediately. Its fabric shifted subtly between slate gray and indigo depending on how the light hit it, with delicate runic patterns embroidered along the cuffs and collar in silver thread. Most striking was the trim along the edges—a distinctive band of pink, pale blue, and white that mirrored the colors of the pendant I always wore. I touched the trim, wondering if someone had noticed my trans pride colors and deliberately included them, or if it was mere coincidence. Either way, seeing those familiar colors made the strange garments feel more like they belonged to me—a small bridge between my old life and whatever this new one would become.

"Training gear?" I asked.

"I figured you might want to see how things work around here," Selene said. "Roland suggested you attend some basic classes today—get a feel for what Veilkeepers actually learn."

"Like a supernatural university?"

"Something like that." She smiled. "Don't worry, I'll stay with you. Think of it as... orientation."

As I dressed, Selene browsed the bookshelf beside the fireplace. The clothes fit surprisingly well.

"How did you know my size?" I asked, adjusting the jacket.

"Roland had Matthias prepare them," she replied, turning from the books. "Golems have an uncanny eye for detail."

I traced one of the runes on my sleeve. "What do these do?"

"Basic protective enchantments. Nothing fancy—just enough to alert headquarters if you're in danger." She handed me the messenger bag. "Some supplies in here. Notebook, writing tools, a few reference guides."

"All the essentials for magical university," I said, attempting a smile that probably looked as uncertain as it felt.

Selene studied me for a moment, her expression softening. "How are you really doing with all this, Iris?"

I sank back onto the edge of the bed. "Honestly? I'm terrified. Fascinated. Overwhelmed." I looked up at her. "But also... it feels strangely right. Like finding the answer to a question I didn't know I was asking."

"That makes sense," she said, sitting beside me. "Most people who discover the mythical world struggle for weeks, even months. But you..." She shook her head in wonder. "You're adapting like you've been waiting for this."

"Maybe I have been." I thought about all the strange dreams I'd had growing up, the intuitive way I'd always drawn mythical creatures in my art, the sense that ordinary life never quite fit.

Selene nodded thoughtfully, then glanced at her watch. "We should probably head to breakfast if you want to make the first class. The food here is surprisingly good."

After breakfast in a dining hall filled with beings of various degrees of humanity, Selene led me through a series of corridors that gradually transitioned from ancient stone to something resembling a modern university building—albeit one with occasional floating lights and windows that definitely didn't show Paris.

"Roland suggested you spend today getting a better understanding of what Veilkeepers actually learn," Selene explained. "After everything you witnessed last night in the Observatory, he thought some grounding in the basics might help."

I nodded, remembering the sprawling magical map of Paris in the Observatory, Roland's revelation about his true age, and the mysterious way the gargoyles patrolled Notre Dame. So much to process in so little time.

"Here we are," Selene said as we entered a large central atrium. "Welcome to the Academy."

The space bustled with activity. Young people—mostly human-appearing but with occasional giveaways of their mythical nature—hurried between classrooms carrying books, scrolls, and strange devices. Instructors in different styles of clothing, from modern business casual to what looked like 18th-century formalwear, supervised the controlled chaos.

"Each trainee has a personalized curriculum," Selene explained as we navigated through the crowd. "Basic courses for everyone, then specialization based on aptitude and heritage."

"Heritage?"

"Different beings have different natural affinities. No point training a sylph in earth magic, for instance."

I noticed a young woman with faintly greenish skin talking animatedly to a tall boy whose shadow didn't quite match his movements. Another student appeared perfectly human until he laughed, revealing teeth that glinted metallically in the light.

"First up, Veil Mechanics," Selene said, stopping outside a door marked with what looked like mathematical equations floating in midair. "Theoretical but essential. Don't worry if it goes over your head—took me three attempts to pass the final exam."

The classroom resembled a university lecture hall, with tiered seating facing a central podium. About twenty students of various ages sat preparing notes or chatting quietly. No one paid particular attention to us as we found seats near the back.

The instructor who entered made me freeze in place, my breath caught in my throat. At first glance, he appeared to be a distinguished older gentleman with streaks of iridescent blue-green in his silver hair, and eyes that glinted like polished copper behind wire-rimmed spectacles. But as he moved to the podium, I noticed how his movements seemed both impossibly graceful and slightly unsettling—as though his limbs contained more joints than they should. When he surveyed the room, his neck extended several inches beyond normal human anatomy.

"That's Professor Quetzal," Selene whispered. "Former Veilkeeper, now full-time instructor. And yes, he's exactly what you're thinking."

The professor's form shimmered like heat rising from hot pavement, and suddenly where the man had stood was a magnificent feathered serpent, its body coiled elegantly around the podium. Brilliant plumage in shades of emerald, sapphire, and gold caught the light as it moved, creating hypnotic patterns that seemed to hang in the air. The wire-rimmed glasses remained perched improbably on its face. A collective groan rose from the students.

"Indeed, indeed," the creature said, its forked tongue flicking between words that somehow formed perfectly despite the inhuman mouth. "I am, as you've so astutely observed, a quetzalcoatl. Your powers of deduction are truly extraordinary." With another shimmer of light that cast rainbow reflections across the ceiling, he resumed human form, adjusting his glasses with a dramatic sigh. "Perhaps those observational skills will serve you better on last week's essays, which were, to put it charitably, creative interpretations of Veil mechanics."

He tapped a talon-like fingernail against a stack of papers on the podium, which rose and distributed themselves throughout the room, fluttering like leaves caught in a breeze.

"Today," he continued, "we address the fundamental question: How does the Veil adapt to human perception in real-time? Miss Rousseau, welcome back. And you've brought a guest?"

Every head turned toward us.

"This is Iris Paige," Selene said. "She's... observing today."

A murmur rippled through the classroom.

"The light-girl," someone whispered, just loud enough to carry.

Professor Quetzal's eyes—still distinctly reptilian despite his human form—fixed on me with unnerving intensity.

"Indeed," he said softly. "Well, Miss Paige, you've chosen an excellent day to observe. We're discussing perceptual adaptation mechanics—how the Veil reads human expectations and generates contextually appropriate cover stories."

He turned to a large screen behind him, which flickered to life showing what appeared to be a street scene in Paris.

"Consider this recorded breach from last month," he said. "A minor forest spirit wandered into the Luxembourg Gardens, drawn by the old trees."

The footage showed a greenish, translucent figure moving among the trees. Nearby, human tourists walked, completely oblivious.

"The Veil is actively reading the expectations and psychological comfort levels of each human observer," Nightingale explained. "Now watch what happens when this woman almost walks directly into the spirit."

On screen, an elderly woman with a small dog approached the translucent figure. Just before collision, the spirit became... something else. To the woman, it appeared to be a gardener pruning the trees. She nodded politely and continued walking.

"But here's where it gets interesting," Nightingale continued, rewinding the footage. "Watch the dog."

The small dog clearly saw the spirit, hackles raised, but when its owner showed no concern, it reluctantly followed, occasionally looking back.

"Animals often perceive through the Veil," he explained. "But domesticated animals typically take perceptual cues from their human companions."

The lecture continued, explaining the complex ways the Veil functions—not just hiding mythical elements but actively creating context-appropriate illusions.

"The Veil prioritizes psychological comfort," Nightingale emphasized. "It's not trying to create perfect concealment but rather to maintain sanity. Humans encountering the inexplicable experience profound psychological distress. The Veil prevents this by offering immediate rationalization."

I thought about how easily I'd accepted the goblins, the magic, all of it. What did that say about me?

As if reading my thoughts, Nightingale looked directly at me. "Some individuals, however, demonstrate unusual resistance to Veil effects. They see through the illusion more easily than others. In extreme cases, they may perceive mythical reality with minimal discomfort."

The class ended with an assignment to analyze different types of Veil adaptations. As students filed out, several cast curious glances my way.

"That wasn't so bad," I said to Selene as we joined the flow of people in the corridor.

"Just wait for Basic Runic Applications," she replied with a grin. "That's where it gets interesting."

The next classroom was smaller and arranged more like an art studio, with workstations instead of desks. At the front stood a striking woman with deep brown skin and intricate white tattoos visible on her hands and neck. Her hair was styled in dozens of small braids wrapped with copper wire that occasionally emitted tiny sparks.

"Instructor Adeyemi," Selene greeted her. "Is it alright if Iris joins today's session?"

The woman's eyes—a startling copper that matched the wire in her hair—assessed me with professional interest. "The light-girl? Of course." She gestured to an empty workstation. "We're starting with basic illumination runes today. Quite appropriate."

The workstation held various implements: chalk, ink, brushes, etching tools, and slates of different materials. About a dozen students took their places, some looking nervous, others confident.

"Runic magic," Instructor Adeyemi began, "is humanity's greatest magical achievement. Unlike innate magic, which is limited to those with specific heritage, runes allow anyone with proper training to access magical effects."

She paced along the front of the classroom, the copper wire in her braids catching the light with each movement. "Think of it as the difference between natural talent and learned skill. Innate magic flows from one's essence—it's often powerful but wild, unpredictable, and limited to specific domains based on one's heritage. A fire deity's child can manipulate flames but might never master water magic, no matter how they try."

Her fingers traced invisible patterns in the air, leaving momentary trails of golden light. "Runic magic, by contrast, is versatile and systematic. With sufficient study, a human practitioner can learn to perform virtually any type of magic—healing, shielding, illumination, transformation. The limitations lie in the precision of execution and the practitioner's knowledge rather than their bloodline."

She smiled, revealing teeth that gleamed with an almost metallic sheen. "However, there are trade-offs. Runic magic requires preparation, tools, and time. In a crisis, an innate practitioner can often respond instantaneously, while a runic mage might need precious seconds or minutes to draw and activate their symbols. And the raw power potential of innate magic typically exceeds what can be channeled through runes alone."

She studied the class with those penetrating copper eyes. "The wisest practitioners recognize that neither approach is inherently superior. Each has its strengths, each its weaknesses. And in rare cases," she added, her voice dropping slightly as if sharing a secret, "they can be combined to remarkable effect."

She picked up a piece of chalk and drew a simple symbol on a slate board—three lines connected in a pattern that somehow drew my eye and held it.

"The basic illumination rune," she explained. "Simple but precise. The angles must be exact, the proportions perfect. Intention matters, but so does execution."

She placed her finger on the center of the rune and spoke a word I couldn't quite catch. The symbol glowed softly, emitting a warm light about as bright as a candle.

"Your turn," she said. "Materials are before you. Choose what feels right."

The students began selecting their tools. I hesitated, then reached for a fine-tipped brush and liquid ink that seemed to shimmer slightly in the light.

"Interesting choice," Instructor Adeyemi commented as she passed. "Most beginners prefer chalk—easier to erase mistakes."

"I'm used to ink," I said, thinking of countless hours spent drawing. "Though not this kind."

"Indanthrone ink," she explained. "An ancient formula from the Far East, derived from rare minerals and botanical elements. Artists have used variations of it for centuries in sacred calligraphy and religious manuscripts. The pigment responds uniquely to intention and focus, making it perfect for runic work��but it's notoriously unforgiving of hesitation or error. Once it touches the surface, it bonds almost immediately."

I studied the symbol she'd drawn, noting the precise angles, the specific proportion of each line to the others. Then, with the confidence born from years of art training, I dipped the brush and recreated the rune on my slate.

As the last stroke connected to the first, I felt a strange resonance—like a tuning fork had been struck somewhere inside me. The ink seemed to settle into the slate with a satisfaction I could almost hear.

Instructor Adeyemi stopped behind me, her copper eyes widening slightly.

"Perfect execution," she murmured. "First attempt?"

I nodded, uncertain why this seemed so surprising.

"Now, to activate," she continued in a normal voice. "Place your index finger at the center point. Focus your intention on creating light, and speak the activation word: lumina."

Around the room, students were having varying degrees of success. Some runes glowed weakly; others remained inert. One student's chalk symbol smudged when he touched it, requiring him to start over.

I placed my finger on the center of my rune, focusing as instructed. "Lumina," I whispered.

The rune blazed to life with a brilliance that made nearby students shield their eyes. What should have been a candle-like glow was instead a miniature sun, casting harsh shadows across the room. The light pulsed in time with my heartbeat, expanding outward in waves.

"Enough!" Instructor Adeyemi said sharply. She placed her hand over mine and murmured something under her breath. The light dimmed to a normal level.

The room had fallen silent, all eyes on me.

"Well," Adeyemi said after a moment, "it seems your... natural affinity... amplifies even basic runes." There was a carefully controlled excitement in her voice. "An interesting case study for the class in how intention and innate ability affect runic outcomes."

She addressed the room: "As you can see, the same rune can produce different effects based on who activates it. This is why standardization of form is so crucial—it provides a stable foundation for varying magical energies."

The rest of the class watched with a mixture of curiosity, envy, and—from a few—suspicion. I kept my eyes down, focusing on modulating my "intention" for the remaining exercises. Even so, my runes consistently produced effects two or three times stronger than anyone else's.

"That was mortifying," I whispered to Selene as we left the classroom. "Everyone was staring."

"Get used to it," she replied, though not unkindly. "What you did isn't normal. Even for someone with magical heritage."

"But I don't know what I'm doing," I protested.

"That's what makes it even more remarkable." She steered me toward what appeared to be a cafeteria. "Come on. Food first, then afternoon classes."

The cafeteria buzzed with conversation that noticeably dimmed as we entered. Students glanced our way, conversations shifting to whispers. I kept my eyes on my tray as we navigated through the tables.

"Selene! Light-girl! Over here!" Felix's voice cut through the awkward silence. The half-werecat waved enthusiastically from a table near a window that overlooked what appeared to be a training field.

Relief washed over me as Selene led us toward him. At least one friendly face in this sea of curious stares.

"Heard you lit up Adeyemi's classroom," Felix grinned as we sat. "Was it as spectacular as people are saying?"

"It was an accident," I muttered.

"Best kind of magic," he replied cheerfully. "The spontaneous stuff."

Two others sat at Felix's table—a young woman with pale blue-tinted skin and what appeared to be gills just visible at the sides of her neck, and a serious-looking young man with deep-set eyes and a scholar's attentive posture.

"Iris, this is Naia," Felix indicated the gill-bearing woman, "third-year specializing in water magic. And this is Eli, second-year, divination track."

"The infamous light-girl," Naia said, her voice carrying a subtle echo like words spoken underwater. "You're causing quite a stir."

"That wasn't my intention," I said.

"Intentions are overrated," she replied with a smile that revealed slightly pointed teeth. "Results are what matter."

"Don't mind Naia," Eli said, his tone analytical and measured. "She enjoys making new students uncomfortable." His gaze was steady and observant, with an intensity that suggested he was cataloging every detail. "You're not what I expected."

"What did you expect?" I asked, uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

He shrugged. "Someone more... aware, I suppose. You genuinely don't know what you are, do you?"

"Eli," Selene's voice carried a warning. "That's enough."

"Just an observation," he replied mildly, but his eyes—now a deep red—remained on me for a moment longer before he returned to his food.

"So," Felix said brightly, clearly trying to change the subject, "what's on your schedule for this afternoon?"

"Veil Monitoring and Disturbance Detection," Selene replied.

"Ooh, with Instructor Chen? She's brilliant," Felix said. "Strict, but brilliant."

Lunch conversation shifted to safer topics—Felix's misadventure with a misfired transformation rune, Naia's project on Seine water quality and its effects on local nymphs, the upcoming solstice which apparently meant increased Veil patrol shifts for everyone.

I found myself relaxing despite the occasional stares from other tables. The cafeteria itself was a striking blend of ancient and modern—stone archways framed the space while softly glowing orbs floated near the vaulted ceiling, casting warm light over the scene. The long wooden tables bore centuries of carved initials and symbols, some of which occasionally shifted position when no one was looking directly at them. At one end of the hall, an enormous hearth crackled with emerald flames that gave off no smoke but filled the air with the scent of cedar and spice.

Despite the otherworldly setting, there was something deeply normal about the scene—students complaining about assignments, sharing cafeteria food, teasing each other—that transcended the distinctly abnormal nature of the Academy itself. At a nearby table, a group practiced levitating fruit with varying success, while in the corner, a student with antlers growing from his temples struggled to fit through a doorway while his friends laughed good-naturedly.

"Time to go," Selene said eventually, checking a pocket watch that seemed to have multiple hands moving at different speeds. "Chen is notoriously punctual."

We said our goodbyes, with Felix extracting a promise that I'd join them for dinner if I was still around. As we stood, I noticed how the light caught in his eyes, reflecting back with that distinctive feline glow.

"Are they all... like you?" I asked as we walked through corridors where the stone walls seemed to breathe gently, ancient tapestries rippling as if in a breeze despite the still air. "Veilkeepers in training?"

"More or less," Selene nodded. "Felix you know about. Naia is half-naiad—water nymph. Her mother is bound to a tributary of the Seine. You can see it in the way she moves, like she's perpetually flowing even when standing still. She's extremely talented with water magic. Eli..." She hesitated, stepping around a small creature that scurried across our path carrying a stack of scrolls twice its size. "Eli is fully human, but he has an extraordinary gift for pattern recognition and divination. The Veilkeepers recruit exceptional humans too, especially those with analytical abilities that help interpret Veil fluctuations."

"What did he mean about me not knowing what I am?"

Selene's pace slowed fractionally. "There are... theories circulating about your abilities. Eli probably thinks he knows something."

"And do you know something?" I pressed.

"I know you're my friend who's going through a lot right now," she said firmly. "The rest can wait until you've had a chance to find your footing."

The Veil Monitoring classroom was unlike the others—a circular room with a domed ceiling onto which was projected what appeared to be a map of Paris. Various points pulsed with different colored lights, similar to the Observatory I'd visited with Felix the night before.

Instructor Chen was a small, precise woman who moved with deliberate economy. Her age was impossible to determine—she could have been anywhere from forty to four hundred. Her only concession to the unusual setting was a jade pendant that occasionally glimmered with internal light.

"The Veil is not static," she began without preamble. "It breathes. It fluctuates. Understanding these patterns is essential to maintaining its integrity."

She gestured, and the map zoomed in on a section of the Latin Quarter. "Yesterday, a level two disturbance occurred here. Based on the pattern, what would you deduce caused it?"

Students called out suggestions: "Unauthorized magical practice?" "Minor being crossing without clearance?" "Residual effect from last week's ley line surge?"

Chen nodded at the last suggestion. "Correct. The resonance pattern shows distinctive oscillation consistent with ley line activity."

She taught with brisk efficiency, demonstrating various tools used to monitor Veil stability—crystalline devices that changed color in response to Veil thinning, pendulums that swung in specific patterns to indicate disturbance types, specialized runic arrays that could detect breaches within a certain radius.

"These tools are extensions of your senses," she explained, "but never substitute for trained perception. The best Veil monitors develop a feel for disturbances before instruments detect them."

She distributed what looked like ordinary opera glasses. "These are calibrated to reveal Veil stress patterns invisible to the naked eye. We'll practice on recorded events first."

The dome above us shifted to show a Paris street scene. Through the glasses, I could see faint ripples in the air, like heat waves but with subtle color variations.

"Note the blue-shift at the edges," Chen instructed. "Characteristic of a naturally-occurring thin spot. Not concerning unless—"

She froze mid-sentence, her attention suddenly fixed on me. I had lowered the glasses, finding them unnecessary. The ripples were perfectly visible to my naked eye, along with swirling patterns connecting them to what appeared to be currents flowing beneath the street.

"Miss Paige," Chen said carefully. "You're not using the viewers."

It wasn't a question, but I answered anyway. "I don't need them. I can see the patterns clearly without them."

A hush fell over the classroom. Chen approached, her movements measured.

"Describe what you see," she instructed.

"Ripples, blue-shifted at the edges like you said. But also... currents? Like streams of energy flowing beneath the street, connecting to the thin spot. And there's a sort of... pulse to it. Like it's breathing."

Chen's composed expression didn't change, but her jade pendant flared briefly.

"That," she said quietly, "is impossible without specialized training or equipment." She stepped back, addressing the class again. "Continue with the exercise. Note the progression from blue to violet as the disturbance intensifies."

The class proceeded, but I could feel Chen's attention returning to me repeatedly. When the session ended, she asked me to stay behind.

"Miss Paige," she said once we were alone, "what you described seeing is what we call the Veil's substructure—the fundamental magical currents that sustain it. Even experienced Veilkeepers require specialized training to perceive it."

"I don't understand why I could see it," I said honestly.

"Nor do I," she replied. "But it suggests a connection to the Veil that goes beyond ordinary sensitivity." She studied me for a moment. "You should speak with Roland about this development."

"I keep discovering things I shouldn't be able to do," I said, frustration creeping into my voice. "But no one will tell me why."

"Perhaps," Chen said carefully, "because the answer would raise more questions than it answers." She turned away, clearly ending the conversation. "Selene is waiting for you."

I found Selene in the corridor, deep in conversation with a will-o'-wisp messenger that hovered at eye level. When she saw me, she dismissed the glowing being with a gesture.

"How was it?" she asked, falling into step beside me.

"Apparently I can see things I shouldn't be able to see," I replied, too exhausted to be diplomatic. "Add it to the list of impossible things about me."

Selene's expression softened. "It's been a lot, hasn't it?"

"That's one way to put it." I ran a hand through my hair, suddenly aware of how tired I felt. The day's revelations, on top of yesterday's, were beginning to take their toll. "What was the message about?"

"Roland wants to see us," she said. "Immediately."

"Why?"

"The cleanup team finished questioning those goblins from last night." Her expression turned grim. "It seems they were specifically sent to find you."

"Who sent them?" I asked, a chill running down my spine despite the warmth of the corridor.

Selene shook her head, her brow furrowed. "They mentioned a location—an abandoned theater in Montmartre. The goblins were supposed to bring you there after capturing you." Her voice dropped lower. "But what's strange is they also mentioned receiving payment in 'divine currency.' Roland seemed particularly troubled by that detail."

"Divine currency?" I repeated. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know," Selene admitted, her pace quickening. "But whatever it is, Roland recognized it as something significant. Something that changes the nature of what we're dealing with."

We hurried through corridors that seemed to blur together, the magical lights pulsing faster as if responding to our urgency. My breath formed small clouds in the suddenly cooler air, and the stone beneath our feet thrummed with a subtle vibration.

"The headquarters feels it too," Selene murmured, noticing my reaction to the changing atmosphere. "The building itself responds to major developments."

My mind raced with fragmented thoughts. Someone had targeted me specifically—someone powerful enough to command those creatures, someone with resources beyond the ordinary mythical world.

As we climbed a spiraling staircase, the steps illuminated themselves just before our feet touched them, then dimmed as we passed. Through arrow-slit windows, I caught disorienting glimpses of Paris from impossible angles—Notre Dame's spires from above, the Seine glittering like a ribbon of stars, the Eiffel Tower viewed through racing storm clouds.

Whatever normal life I'd thought I had was rapidly dissolving behind me. Ahead lay only questions, each answer revealing new mysteries. But one thing was becoming increasingly clear: I wasn't just stumbling into this world by accident.

Something—or someone—had been waiting for me to find it.

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#irisandtheveilkeepers #criticism welcome #fantasy writing #modern fantasy #lgbtq fiction #trans character #original fiction #queer fantasy #chapter 4

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bengiyo · 1 year ago

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Don't Care for an Old Man's Underwear! Ep 4 Stray Thoughts

Thanks to @isaksbestpillow for making this watch possible.

Last time, Makoto went on a friend date with Daichi to find an appropriate gift for his closeted boyfriend's father. They eventually found a massager that felt appropriate. Meanwhile, Kakeru has taken some steps to exit the house more, but he's taking care to avoid kids his own age because he never feels like he can connect with them. We got additional insight into Daichi, learning that he's suffered excruciating homophobia, and every day he chooses to be brave enough to be kind. We also met Daichi's mom, and I appreciate that he probably learned his considerate approach to people from her. Daichi and Makoto had an amazing conversation about what to do if Kakeru is trans, and also in the public bath. It felt like Makoto made a genuine breakthrough last episode.

I like how gentle the mom is being with Kakeru about this situation. Even though she's so happy to see him in person, she's not making it feel overly special that he's out and talking, and she led with check ins.

It's really important to me that Mika is making the choice about Kakeru's future one he gets to decide.

I don't know how they were before Makoto decided to update himself, but their teamwork feels familiar. I think he at least trusted his wife's instincts when it comes to their kids.

I love that we're seeing Daichi with his boyfriend away from the Okita family. We should know what his own life looks like. I'm also enjoying the vibe between him and his huge boyfriend. I love that they're both veterinary students.

Man, Daichi overwhelms me with feelings every time. He's so good about framing a challenge or difficulty in a way that's manageable.

I liked Makoto getting a glass out for Mika to have a beer with him. It felt like it was something they do sometimes. I do wish he'd tell Kakeru this story, too. I think he'd appreciate knowing that his dad became this macho type because of bullying.

I'm gonna cry again about this conversation in the car. Really Kakeru just needed to know that his dad had his back. Gender is not so simple, and I like that Kakeru clarified that he doesn't dislike being a man, but he doesn't want to present as coarse or 'manly,' and wants to be cute.

"No one is more ignorant and obstinate than me. You've got immunity," ended up being way more heartfelt than it might have a few episodes ago.

"Let me think about it," has been hitting so hard from the Japanese shows since 2021. I don't know the specifics of what Madoka has been through, but I like that his immediate thought after catching himself was to thank Daichi for the regard he showed his parents.

So relieved that these girls weren't immediately mean to Kakeru.

Don't blow this for us, Makoto. Just be patient and let Kakeru show you the way.

Well well well, the girls want our boy's advice.

Crying again about the mom's note.

I like this woman on their team. I think she's Shimura. She does not take workplace abuse in stride and holds her ground.

I remain obsessed with Apple.

These girls let him opt out of karaoke. There is hope.

Wait, but this overachiever seems pissed that he's crushing her hustle.

I do love that Moe came running for her brother.

Aw, Makoto didn't get the "keep it normal" memo and overdid it.

Hey, Moe is bringing the dad in on the situation now! That feels earned from episode 2!

I, too, hope Kakeru finds his B-suke-kun.

Mmm, familiar kids from Madoka.

This show is so rewarding. The relationship developments from previous episodes continually pay off. Daichi's influence is helping both Okita men make it through their troubles, and now Makoto is able to coordinate with Mika and Moe about Kakeru. Everything isn't suddenly fixed, but you can see the effort beginning to pay off. I'm going to be thinking about that car conversation for a long time. I am glad we're seeing an independent Daichi plot, but I am worried it won't end happily.

#Ben watches #ossan no pantsu ga nandatte ii janai ka #don't care for an old man's underwear #oppan #japanese drama #jdrama #lgbt tv

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basedkikuenjoyer · 7 months ago

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Uh can i ask something...?

I'm confused, because I can't understand...if Kiku after all is transwoman, why Oda calls her a man in concept art? Why Oden refer to Kiku and Izo not as siblings but as brothers? Why Izo himself calls Kiku brother and not sister? Why Kiku eventually uses male pronouns (sessha) when talking? Why Kiku calles herself samurai if she should be onna-bugeisha (female samurai)? (Does it has to do with when they reveal truth about her she says "sorry, i am samurai") I mean... Why misgendering yourself? I heard that Jap language has problems with gender differences, but it should not be that bad..? If all of it, why Kiku is transwoman then? The only thing that i actually saw is that her words about woman at heart actually being used by transwomen in japan, but outside of it seems like Kiku is just a example of trap pr femboy in japanese media as it often goes... I guess, as a professional, you may help understand what does it even mean and how does it work? Does that mean Kiku is a man? I don't get it...

Hey guys look, I'm a professional Kiku expert. I wanna put that on my next resume. I'm going to assume this is in good faith and not just a troll, but I'm also not exactly gonna sit here and debate this either. So...realistically what it comes down to for me is the things the character says about herself vs. people who don't know. Like...Oden in the diary. He'd just met a 1yo, makes sense to me Izo probably did all the talking. Makes sense to me Kiku couldn't express that yet. A big part of her story is subtle about it but coming to terms with it and her family. Same with Izo in a noncanon scene, he just came back. Remember, my read is there was always something there. Izo/Kin maybe were stern about it when you were young, Toki being around caused her to be progressively more outright about it, the month with Tsuru gave you your first real chance at being "out" for lack of a better word. And Oden's whole flaw in general would also mean he's just oblivious to any inner conflict.

As for the vivre card calling her male with a unique extra bit about the woman at heart line...that's where Japanese gets tricky. There's no real distinction like we might casually say "physically male" here. Same with the sessha pronoun. It might be gendered to a degree but it isn't exclusive like in English. Do you think Big Mom is transmasc? Brook genderfluid? No, but they do kinda use pronouns like that for social reasons. To denote authority and politeness respectively. Likewise while concepts like Onnamusha exist in Japanese history...we don't see it elsewhere in Wano. I'd also add you're being a little selective. Adding the "O-" prefix to your name not to mention speech patterns that don't always translate and honestly even being so demure and quiet about yourself are all strongly coded too.

But that "woman at heart" line? There's really no ambiguity there. It isn't something a Japanese trans woman might say, it's as exclusive and cliche as if an English speaker said "Ehhh...woman trapped in a man's body" in that scene. Even moreso because no one really uses that English phrase much anymore. Not to mention we do have places where Kiku calls herself a woman or passes up a chance to correct someone who says as much. Same with your ancillary stuff like SBS answers, etc. Which to me is a hallmark of your trap/femboy characters. It's a cliche in and of itself to have them spell it out immediately so no one has to feel bad/awkward. Likewise...that wouldn't jive with asking to bathe with the girls because being undressed around strange men would make you uncomfortable.

End of the day, Wano's a subtler arc that trusts you to read between the lines a little. Kiku's story all makes sense as a trans girl who seems to have always felt that way making the best of a rigid society that imposed a very masculine role on her. She'll play that part when the people of Wano and her family need her too, but it's consistently framed as tragic you have to feel that way much like most of the lady samurai movies she's inspired by. We've also seen Oda play with so many characters in this space too, it's pretty clear Kiku's treated a little differently.

#rhea's question corner #okiku

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toastedjeans · 8 months ago

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hi sorry really ask that you don't need to answer this question, What would be the reaction of the characters from Siren Tower to those from Failure Tower? Again you don't need to respond sorry for the inconvenience

First up, sorry i didn't draw for this, it makes me too nervous for some reason. I'll try to describe their reactions as best as i can! Also sorry if i get something wrong.

Oh and another thing. They won't understand each other because of the language barrier between human and siren language. Maybe the Fakers could understand each other a little bit but I'll get to that.

Starting with the Peppers. I feel like Peppercrab would try to motivate Failure Pepperman with his art. Cause i imagine the paintbrush hand would be much harder to control than a regular brush. Peppercrab is basically like "look, if i can make art with my claws, so can you!" Now if Failure Pepperman is motivated by that or envious is up for debate

Moving along to the Vigilantes, i think the moment Siren Vigi sees his Failure counterpart, he will assume it was some human who killed him. He already believed humans were evil creatures who just want to harm innocent beings, and seeing his ghost makes him hate humans even more. He swears he will avenge Failure Vigi's death. He might be a sea slug, but don't underestimate him lol

Now the Fakers i think could potentially even understand each other. Either because Siren Faker knows a little bit of human language, or because clones just understand each other naturally. Anyway, i think Siren Faker would be really excited to see a more human version of himself. He would probably keep poking Failure Faker, or even hug him if he allows it.

The Noises wouldn't get along i think. Siren Noise would spit water on Failure Noise, or keep touching his exposed skin, knowing fully well that it will hurt the other. Until Failure Noise gets so mad he grabs his shark version by the wrists and tries to throw him to the side, and then they'd start fighting.

(for clarity: Noisette = Failure Tower, Hazel = Siren Tower) The girls would get along well i feel like. Hazel would offer Noisette various of her baked goods, and then just keep talking while Noisette listens. She points at Noisette's trans pin and goes "omg me too!!", and she'd probably asks about the mask cause she thinks it's cute. I don't think Noisette would take it off, and Hazel respects that of course.

Now the Peppinos. I like to think Failure Peppino and Gustavo would both meet up with Siren Peppino. Siren Pep would be confused because that Gustavo looks so similar to that shark man who saved his life once, and who now lives in his bath tub. Would that mean that they'll end up together as well? Not that he would mind. Also he'd be jealous of Failure Pep's clothes cause he sees that as him having an actual good running business and not being in debt anymore.

And uh, that's it! Sorry i couldn't think of much, and sorry again if i got something wrong!

#toasty response #pizza tower #pizza tower au #siren tower au #failure tower #peppino spaghetti #gustavo pizza tower #the noise #pepperman #the vigilante #fake peppino #noisette #hope i got everyone #also sorry i didn't do anything for pizzaface. idk how that would work out tbh #oh and don't worry! if i didn't want asks i would've turned them off lol

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themadlostgirl · 9 months ago

Text

Just Me

*I feel the need to preface that while I am not trans I did my very best to be considerate and representative to that community in this request. You are whoever you are and whoever you are is valid!

Also anon requested a hint of Felix pairing but ya got a little more than a hint (> v O)*

Pairing: Felix x Trans!Masc|Reader

Prompt: FTM Reader comes out to Lost Boys

~~~

You had been on Neverland for a while now. Maybe a few months. It was hard to tell. But in the couple of months that you had been there you felt more at home then you had ever felt back where you came from. None of the boys looked at you strange or bullied you for just being yourself. It was such a jarring change from where you came from that at first you didn’t think it was real. But then as time went on you realized it was real. It was all gloriously real and you finally had somewhere you felt like you belonged.

The only problem was that for as happy as you were you still felt a distance between you and the rest of the Lost Boys because well…you had been told all your life you were someone else. No one in your town would have been worried about you being taken to Neverland like they worried for the others. After all, Peter Pan only took boys to Neverland.

It was a cosmic relief and validating point when Pan offered you a spot with his group. He thought you were a boy. You were a boy. You had always been but…it was just a matter of getting others to see it. Since being on Neverland you hadn’t had to worry about it. Everyone only knew you as exactly who you said you were. There was no one that knew you before Neverland to whisper in your ear that you had been born with a different name and different expectations. No one to ruin the peaceful existence you had finally found.

As nice as it was you still felt like you had to tell them the truth. It would only be a matter of time until one of them realized that you were biologically different. You had taken to bathing far away and late at night to avoid such problems. You also refused to go swimming for such reasons. You didn’t want them to know and risk ruining everything. What if they were just like everyone else? What if they sent you back?

Your hands were shaking as you stood in the camp watching everyone run around and play. You had made the decision the night before to let everyone know but you were far braver in your imagination. Now your feet had grown roots and your mouth stayed sealed shut. One brave moment. That was all you needed.

“Hey--”

“Ah!” you leapt a foot in the air at the sudden voice behind you. Felix stood behind you looking at you bewildered. “I mean, ah, hey man, what’s up?”

“Why are you so jumpy?” he asked. “Piss one of the boys off? Was it Micheal? Did he put boar turds in your tent again? We can go beat him up if you want.”

“No. Nothing like that I just…” you took in a shaky breath. “I uh wanted to do something but I’m scared to.”

“You? Scared?” Felix scoffed. “That’s new. What could be so scary that you’re cowering over here wound tighter than a box spring?”

“I…” you tried to swallow but your saliva felt thick in your mouth. “I need to…”

“Hey,” Felix placed a hand on your shoulder, looking at you intently. “What’s wrong? You know you can tell me right, aren’t we friends?”

“I don’t know if you’re gonna want to stay my friend after this.” you mumbled. “And that would suck because you’re great and I like you a very normal amount and I don’t want everything to be ruined. But if it doesn’t go well and it is all ruined then I don’t know what I’m going to do. I can’t go back now. I won’t survive if I have to go back. But I don’t know if I’m even going to be allowed to stay on Neverland. I mean this is a place for Lost Boys. If you’re not a Lost Boy then what are you even doing here? You probably can’t stay here. If you do stay then you’re probably a prisoner and I’m not sure if I would prefer being a prisoner or back in my town and--”

“Whoa!” Felix braced both hands on your shoulders and shook you a bit. “Slow down. What the hell are you yammering on about? What is going on that you think it is going to ruin everything?”

“I…I’m different, Felix.” you said, the words tumbling out.

“You’re different…” Felix repeated slowly. He lowered his voice. “I think I understand. You know, no one here cares about that kind of thing, right? There are plenty of others that are just like you.”

Your eyes widened. “Do you--” you whispered to him, “You know about me?”

“I mean, I had a hunch.” he said, “If I’m brutally honest, and I guess I will be since you’re opening up too, it’s because I feel the same way.”

“You?”

He cracked a smile. “I don’t know how it was where you came from but here boys can like whoever they want. Whether that’s girls or other boys or even no one at all. There are plenty of Lost Boys who are together. You know that.”

Part of you deflated as you realized what conversation he thought you were having. “No Felix, I mean, I do like boys but that’s not the part I’m nervous about.”

“Oh…” his face started to go pink. “What uh, what is it then? Confessing to someone then? One of these idiots caught your eye? Letting you know right now, if it’s Harry he already has something going on with Micheal. They think they’re being sneaky about it but half the camp knows about them already.”

“No. I don’t have a crush on Harry I have a crush on y--” you clammed up again. You cleared your throat. “The crush I may or may not have is not what is scaring me. I mean, it does scare me because I really like this person and we’re good friends and I don’t want to ruin that but I’m scared that they may not end up liking me for other reasons.”

“What other reasons?” Felix was still staring at you intently and it made your face feel incredibly hot.

“I’m not exactly…” you took in a deep breath. “I am not exactly a boy.”

His brow furrowed deeper as he tried to understand what you were saying. “What are you then? A donkey? You one of those kids that got turned into a donkey and then back into a boy? Or I heard something about like a wooden boy running around in the enchanted forest. Is it something like that?”

“No. I am a boy but I’m not like other boys. I am different in certain aspects that don’t really mean much in the long run but I’ve been keeping it a secret from everyone and it is starting to eat me alive.”

Felix waited patiently for you to continue. “Just promise me that when I tell you you won’t hate me or think of me differently. I am still the same person I just have one noticeable difference with the others.”

“Whatever it is I’m sure it’s nothing that bad. I don’t think I could hate you if I tried, mate.” he flashed you a reassuring smile. “Now how about you tell me what you want to say.”

You took a deep breath and nodded. “I don’t want to do this more than once so I’m gonna go yell it to everyone. Okay?”

“Okay.” he let you go and you walked into the center of the camp and stood up on top of a large rock.

“Hey everyone, I uh I have something I need to say.” you called to the camp. Everyone stopped what they were doing and every set of eyes turned to you. Your palms began to sweat and you looked over to Felix. Pan had come up to him and was asking if he knew what was going on.

“I…” wiped your hands off on your pants. “I just needed to tell everyone that before I came to Neverland I was known by a different name. People were ignorant and told me who I was, and even when I screamed back at them that they were wrong they still refused to see me for who I am. Well, I’ve been able to be more myself here than I ever was back there but I still feel as if I am lying to you all because you don’t know who people thought I was. And I know I can’t keep it a secret forever so I wanna tell you all now and let you know that the person you see is who I am. I am no different from who you’ve come to know and I want to stay here with all of you as your friend. As a Lost Boy.”

Pan stepped forward. “Please, friend, tell us.”

You looked Felix and he gave an encouraging nod. “I was born a girl.” you said and those few simple words felt like a huge weight off your shoulders. “I am not a girl though. I am a boy. I have always been and always will be a boy. How I piss doesn’t change that.”

There was a murmuring from the crowd. Some of the boys looked surprised, a couple looked confused, others were simply smiling at you. You were glad to count Felix among one of their number.

“No problem with that.” Pan said. “A boy is a boy. And if someone does have a problem with it they can take it up with me.” He shot a glare out at the crowd and they dispersed.

A few of the boys came up and assured you that it was all okay who you were. They hoped that now that they knew that meant you wouldn’t shy away from going swimming with them now. Then that was it. It was over. Everyone knew and no one hated you. No one yelled or told you to leave. Everyone still liked you and treated you as they did before. The euphoria of it made you start crying.

Felix crept up behind you and laid a hand on your back, rubbing it awkwardly. “Feel better now?”

“Yeah,” you sniffed, wiping the tears from your face. “That was terrifying.”

“I bet.” he said. “Stinks that you thought you had to be worried about that.”

“Well, my experience has been a lot of ignorance and hate so you can’t blame me for being a bit scared to let everyone here know.” you shook out the last of your nerves. “Now that it is over though I feel great. I feel like I can do anything.”

“Good to hear.”

“Felix, I like you.” you blurted out. “Sorry. I’m on a high and I just wanted to put that out there before I lost the nerve. I really like you.”

“Oh thank god.” he grabbed you by the face and pushed his mouth against yours in a quick kiss. “Been wanting to do that for ages. Let’s go. I’m not giving these neanderthals any more of a show.”

“Geez! Give a guy some warning next time!” You laughed as he laced your hand with his and started pulling you into the jungle away from prying eyes.

“Warning.” he said a split second before he threw you up against a tree and kissed you again. You smiled into the kiss, lacing your hands around his waist as he continued to devour your mouth.

He pulled back, the both of you out of breath. “Was that enough warning for you, handsome?”

Your entire body was vibrating with endorphins. “Sure.” you said. “I think this has been the best day of my life. I really do.”

“Wow. Didn’t know I was that good a kisser.” Felix smirked.

You lightly punched his side. “That you are.” you pulled him in again and you had never felt more at home than you did right then.

#ouat #felix imagine #felix x reader #trans reader #ouat felix #neverland #peter pan ouat #request

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