#but idk i feel like in rly lovely partnerships friends or romantic like ur queerness makes the other persons queerness like...

[possibilistfanfiction]

can i say i absolutely love how you write ava being casually nonbinary so much. there are no fucking words to describe how much i fucking love your in depth exploration of butch beatrice, especially as an asian genderqueer sapphic who relates a lot to beatrice, your fics about it is definitely some of my top fav fics in the fandom, and like lowkey inspiring to me in my own journey to better accepting my queerness and exploring what it means for me, but also on the other end of the spectrum, i just love the casual simplicity (not sure if that’s the word i’m looking for) you write ava being nonbinary with

ava’s nonbinary, and it’s just a simple everyday fact of life just like the grass is green and the sun goes up and down everyday, there’s no need to dwell on it because ava doesn’t need to dwell on it and maybe her relationship or feelings about gender will change or get more complicated in the future or they won’t change one bit, but that doesn’t matter because it’s not the future right now and they’ll cross that bridge when it comes to it

[lil teeny bit of nb ava for the culture]

//

'hey,' ava says, trailing a hand up and down the inside of your forearm, 'do you... do you care?'

you have absolutely no idea what she's talking about; you care about a lot of things, and, more and more, there are plenty of things you also let fall to the wayside: sometimes they just are.

'do i care about what?'

ava sighs, scoots a little away from you on the couch, tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. 'that i — i don't feel like i have a gender, or whatever. like, i'm a girl, i guess? but only because that's what people thought, and told me. but i don't feel like anything else. i mean, first of all, the gender binary is a tool of colonial oppression and white supremacy, especially when employed by the church —'

'— yes, that's true —'

'— but also, i have a literal divine battery pack keeping me alive, allegedly —'

'— the halo definitely is keeping you alive, we know that —'

'— and i've been to, like, realms and stuff. met a few gods; fought a few demons. fell in love with you.' she smiles softly. 'so it's just... limiting, to me. it feels limiting, to be one thing.'

'i don't think binary gender makes sense to me either,' you say, allow yourself to admit. ava probably has figured it out, even if you haven't been able to say it: you wear a binder some days, and you don't feel anything against she/her pronouns but there's masculinity and androgyny you crave, that you're just starting to feel steady and free enough to explore. 'i feel it differently than you — for me, being a woman is a particular experience that matters, but not in the way people want women to be. i don't know, it's a work in progress.' she squeezes your hand with a gentle smile. 'but, ava, i only care insomuch as you're the love of my life, and i want you to feel seen and cared for, just for who you are. i want to know you, whoever that is.'

she swallows and rests her head on your chest; the documentary about mushrooms she had put on in the background plays quietly. 'thank you.' she turns so her nose is pressed against your sternum, hugging you tight. 'i just know it's taken you a long time to, like, be okay with your own sexuality, and i didn't want to throw you for a loop if you were feeling really comfy with, you know.'

'being a lesbian?' you ask, try to keep the laugh out of your voice. 'i certainly don't want that to ever exclude gender expansive people, even if it's a word i like.'

'well, of course,' ava says, her breath warm through your t-shirt. 'you're you; you're the best there is.'

'i don't know about that.'

'nah, it's true. i do know. i'm the beatrice expert. god says so too, direct message. hotter jesus, remember?'

you do laugh, this time, and rub comfortingly up and down her spine, still your hand over the faint, warm hum of the halo. 'no matter what pronouns you use, or what name feels right, or what your gender expression is, i love you. i'm queer, which is expansive and abundant.' you have to swallow because, maybe for the first time ever, you believe the words wholeheartedly. your friends and your therapist and books and music and shows that you love have said them; you have said them, before, but not quite like this. the grace you want to give to ava is far beyond the grace you have ever allowed of yourself. 'queerness is infinite. and so is my love for you.'

ava sniffles and then wipes her nose with the back of her hand, props herself up on an elbow and kisses you. 'the same goes for you, you know that, right?'

'yes,' you say. 'i — i hold it close, often.'

she pauses, holds your jaw in her palm, and then kisses you. you kiss her back, with your eyes closed, with tears pressing at them that won't fall, not this time.

ava doesn't hesitate a few days later when she introduces herself to a few of your friends and says that they can use any pronouns; she tries on one of your binders one afternoon and then frowns and laughs and says, god, i love my boobs but then quietly makes sure to massage your shoulders every evening after that. she tries on any clothes she wants, picks out a suit one day that she whistles at when she sees herself in the mirror, and then laughs. there's quiet nights and loud brunches and your friends who consistently use different pronouns for ava without batting an eye, and it makes her smile even as she dumps salsa that will be way too hot on her chilaquiles and then has to eat them trying to hide a grimace. you don't know how to have that much freedom, not yet, but ava holds your hand and leads you along, always.

you're figuring it out, the loosening of limits you'd set so tight within yourself; ava's figuring it out too: how to be, and how to become when, of course, there's still cruelty — but there's infinite abundance too. you turn back to the documentary — all the fungi that weaves its ways in and out of the world, for longer than you can imagine. all the fish in the sea; all the stars in the sky — a steadfastness and a wonder and a joy, to exist beyond. to become.