#forever the best day at work will always be discussing gender presentation and pronouns completely independently like. oof you’re three!

[zibah-ho]

reading a book to the kids while tired and didn’t have glasses on so I kept mixing the pronouns up for each character congratulations mr penguin we have successfully transed your gender

[theladykit]

I received an excellent ask from @the-gay-lady-of-ravenclaw-tower and I was happy to answer it, but because I am a Tumblr old I accidentally replied to the first part of the ask instead of the second, and now it’s gone. So I’m going to reproduce it and include my answer below. I hope this can help others, too! Fair warning that I am long-winded and the post is very long as well. If anyone has suggestions about how to make it more readable (I have ADHD and long blocks of text are not my friend, so I get it), send me a message and let me know!

Hi, Ryn! Sorry if this ask is intrusive, feel free to ignore. You're the first non-binary person I've seen on here who's really fully an adult (to me grown up = older than 30-35) and I was wondering if you had any advice you'd like to share with younger queer/non-binary kids. In particular I was wondering how you navigate using gender-neutral pronouns in the workplace and how you build a community/found family with other queer adults. (1/2)

I'm 18, and it's easy to see other queer kids around me in college, but it feels like a bubble. I worry about the world outside of this microcosm and how to navigate queerness in the future. Seeing queer adults like you who have successfully made it through their 20s and survived in the "real world" while building a community is really hopeful for me, especially considering the world was much more hostile in your formative years than mine. Thanks :) (2/2)

Let me first apologize for taking so long on this ask, I wanted to give a considered answer.

I’m honored that you would ask in the first place. I take advice-giving pretty seriously, especially when someone is reaching out to me because they’re hoping to take advantage of any experience I might have from being on the planet longer. I want to introduce a couple of caveats, though, so you can take my advice in the context it deserves. 

As you mentioned, I did grow up in a world that was quite a bit more hostile to queerness. On top of that, I’m sure you know we just didn’t have easy access to queer information, and it was a lot more visible when someone was seeking it. Because of this, I didn’t actually figure out my queerness (though I suspected for decades) until a few years ago. However, I’ve tried to throw myself into the queer community as hard as I’m able, and I was always a queer ally. So I’ve been on the fringes for a really long time, even though it’s only now that I’ve been able to experience it from a place of openness. On the other hand, I do think there’s value in that situation, as well, so, take all of this for what you will.

The other caveat is that I left the traditional workplace prior to my accepting my queerness. I have never had to deal with pronoun issues, and I also come from a place of having the luxury of a decent relationship with my original pronouns. I am non-binary, but I’m ok (for the most part) with people using she/her for me. That said, my background is in accounting, and the firms I worked for, on the whole, probably would not have been thrilled about neutral pronouns, much less neopronouns, especially with anything client-facing. Some of the feelings about this are changing, and some are not. It’s very industry-specific and employer specific, so I feel like the best advice I can give in this situation is to be safe, in whatever way that works for someone. 

I would love to just say have the conversation with your employer in terms of pronouns and presentation and that if they’re not willing to accept even the idea of it, you know that they weren’t probably going to treat you with dignity and respect about being outside of the binary, but because society hasn’t caught up in their understanding and acceptance of anything but cisgender and heteronormative ideals, it is still a privilege too many are excluded from. Why human dignity and respect are treated as privileges, I shall never know, but that’s how it is for so many at this moment in time. So all I can say is try your best to assert yourself in whatever way is safest for you, and to know that there are lots of adults rooting for you and willing to help when and where they can, even if we can’t change everything immediately. It still sucks that we have to couch it this way, but I do think it’s important to remember that at least in some places we can have the conversation. It’s not enough, and it will never be enough until we don’t have to think about it anymore, but change is always going to be too slow for marginalized communities. 

The found family is where I feel most comfortable answering. My peer group, the oldest Millennials, was really the first youth group to benefit from the presence of ubiquitous, reliable internet as a way to find new relationships, whether platonic, romantic, whatever. And I have to say, we found it in the same ways then as a lot of young adults do now: fandom spaces, very primitive means of social media (ah, the heady days of the message board), various websites and communities that we, along with a lot of other age groups, built. I personally met most of my found family through a fandom space, and while none of us really retain ties to that fandom anymore, our love for each other has only grown. The rest of my sort of extended found family, if you will, I met through in-person spaces, like the classes I took in college, things like that. I think one of the most important pieces of that puzzle is not being afraid to reach out through your interests. I also think that’s not so different from when I was around your age. The spaces themselves are a lot different to navigate, and I do not envy you with the sort of omni-present fight against purity culture, which we did not really have to address, but building a community is pretty much the same no matter if it’s online, in-person, formalized like a city, or anything else. It takes work and commitment and a willingness to see it succeed, and it will change and evolve a lot as you go on. Not all found family is permanent, and there’s nothing wrong with that, either. There are people who have passed out of my life, and rightly so, that I was certain at the time would be with me forever. But it’s ok. I grew as a person, and I grew in a different direction than worked for our relationship. I grew in a direction that brought me toward my found family. 

I should also probably point out that my found family is, on the whole, not queer. A few of us are, or have ties to queerness, but there’s a variety of sexualities, genders, etc. I think you’re right to say that queerness can be kind of a bubble, but there are lots of people who want to embrace what may have started out as queer ideals because they recognize it’s how they want to live, even if they themselves are not queer. I think especially people my age and younger are realizing that they want families that are supportive and nurturing, and I am sorry to say it but that’s rooted in queerness in a way that most normative family dynamics are not. We’ve had no choice, we either had each other or no one else. Queerness, on some level, means found family—or at least queerness that doesn’t rely on trying to emulate the cisgender heteropatriarchy for acceptance. So the two ideas are really intertwined and it’s completely understandable why so many queer people gravitate toward families they built themselves. How to do that is as varied as any queer experience, but comfortingly, it’s still the same as any other kind of relationship at its core. Give it time, which is no one’s favorite advice, but that is the best I’ve got. Make sure you’re getting what you need in addition to helping others with what they need. Be kind and loving and supportive, and above all, bring compassion to the table every moment that you can. Empathy is good, too, but compassion and kindness will steer you better, I think, more often than empathy will. 

I know this is an incredibly long answer, and this is as concise as I could make it. These are big questions, and I am not a concise person by nature. :) Good luck, and I’m here to talk if you need, and that extends to any queer young adults that want advice. We have to band together, we all have so many wonderful things to contribute, and I for one am looking forward to seeing what you and your peers add to the discussion over the years.

[denimwrites-archive]

Friends? (Part 1)

Prompt: “hey you’ve had a rough day so let’s get in our PJs and watch a cute movie together and cuddle bUT IT’S TOTALLY PLATONIC ALRIGHT” from the “friendship to romance tropes i can’t get enough of” list I reblogged

Fandom: Newsies (2017) - Modern College AU

Pairing: Davey Jacobs X Male Reader

Summary: After a long week, you decide to invite your best friend, Davey, over for a relaxing movie night. Soon enough you’re both tiredly leaning on each other, and who knows what could happen next?

Word Count: 2,442

Warnings: Food, language (there’s some f-bombs and such), some fighting?

A/N: I haven’t written a male reader before, but I usually try to keep all my fics gender neutral, so I hope this was okay? I used he/him pronouns for the reader. I don’t know if I got the guy friendship right, but I tried. If anyone has any tips, I’d be happy to hear them!! (Also, in this fic I had Jack be bi and Davey be gay, the reader’s sexuality is left ambiguous) And I broke it into two parts cause I wanted to create suspense

Friends? Series - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

~~~

This week couldn’t have been longer. You had had three tests, and two papers due, not to mention work on top of that. To say you were spent would be an understatement. You knew that your friends would want to go out on a Friday night, but you couldn’t work up the energy to cook food let alone go to a party. You were lucky enough to have a best friend who understood that.

That best friend was David Jacobs. You two had become friends during your freshman year when he was your chemistry lab partner, and ever since it was like you two had known each other for forever. You had known Jack from high school, and were unsurprised when Jack tried to introduce you to Davey since Jack is such a people person and always trying to include you in things.

The two had met in their art appreciation class and hit it off when they got into a lively discussion about the definition of art. When you explained you already knew each other Jack then got you into the discussion and let’s just say he still brings it up every once and awhile.

Jack was usually the one for parties, but Davey was just as happy with a good book. He understood your wish to just stay home, and happily made his way over to your place with a fresh pizza and a Back to the Future box set when you texted him you needed something to recharge with.

You opened the door, already in your pajamas, and smiled tiredly at your friend. “That bad of a week, huh?” he asked as he made his way into your apartment. You let out a yawn in response, and he just chuckled. Davey set the pizza on your coffee table before heading to the kitchen for some plates and napkins.

Making yourself comfy on your couch, you just watch as Davey sets everything up. “Thanks, man. I feel like I could sleep for a week.”

“Hey, it’s no problem. Think of this as me repaying you for helping me during finals,” he said, handing you a plate with a slice, and a smile.

You gratefully take it and can’t help the smirk that comes to your face. “I think pizza and a movie isn’t going to cover you keeping me up for two days for non-stop quizzing.” Davey chuckles again, and blushes a little bit at the memory. He had been stressing nonstop over his psychology and sociology finals, and being the good friend that you are, had helped him study for both, even though you weren’t even in those classes. You actually still remembered some of the information, even if it was pretty much useless for now.

As he settles next to you on the couch he grabs a slice of pizza for himself. “Alright, but at least it’s making a dent in what I owe you for that.” You just nod and take a bite of your pizza, and Davey takes that as his cue to start the movie. As you watch Marty travel between the past, present, and future and you consume more and more pizza, you feel your eyes grow heavier and heavier.

Soon enough the pizza is forgotten, and you’re carefully resting your head on Davey’s shoulder. ~ You’re dozing slightly, almost in between consciousness and wakefulness. Too tired to care about what you’re resting on since it’s warm and comfy and that’s all that matters. As the soundtrack of the movie continues to lull you to sleep, your pillow shifts and you groan, nuzzling into it. It seems to work, as it stops shifting, and you lean more heavily onto it.

Then unexpectedly, you’re falling. You land on something slightly softer, but you decide to get up anyway, the surprise waking you up. Pushing yourself up, you see that your hand on Davey’s thigh is holding you up and scramble to get off of him and let go of it, waking yourself up more in the process. You’re both blushing messes and you decide to clean up some of your mess as a way to calm yourself down. Throwing away some of the uneaten pizza crusts, you keep the leftover pieces in the box and stick it in the fridge.

When you get back to the couch, Davey’s putting in a different movie, and upon closer inspection see that it’s Meet the Robinsons, one of your shared favorites. As Wilbur goes on his adventure, you tuck yourself closer to the couch’s armrest on the opposite side of where Dave is sitting. Yeah, leaning on him was nice, but you didn’t want to fuck up your friendship by weirding him out in your tired state.

About halfway through the movie, you’re starting to doze off while resting on your hand. The last thing you remember before your eyes fully close is the bowler hat guy taking over. It seems like you were finally done for, since the next time you wake up, you’re securely wrapped in someone’s arms and completely stretched out rather than curled up.

Not remembering what happened, and not really caring with how comfortable you are, you cuddle into your heat provider and slowly drift back off. You absentmindedly feel something wrap around you. Goddamn octopus, let go of my truck, you think in your hazy state.

But then your warm partner’s laughing and the rumbles of his chest are waking you up. You groan and think, Fucking octo went and fucked up the motor. Asshole. The rumbles are deeper, and now there’s shaking going on and you just sit up, and blearily wipe at your eyes.

You’re met with Davey’s face next to yours and he seems like he’s trying to hold in his laughter, but at the sight of your confused and tired face he loses it. Laughing with his whole body, you’re kind of pushed off of the couch. You groan as you hit the floor, and David is just laughing even harder.

“What the hell is so funny?” you grumble out as you try to wake up. It takes him a few minutes to respond, since whenever he looks at you still sitting on the floor, his laughter picks up again. You let out a huff and stand up, heading to the kitchen. You stretch a little and look at your microwave to see that it’s almost six in the morning. Not the worst sleep I’ve had.

You start the coffee machine and grab two mugs. Leaning against the counter a you wait for the caffeine to brew, you rest your eyes and try to focus your thoughts on what you need to do today. I have that paper due in a few days, I should probably get started on that. And I have that stuff I need to research for that science class. You groan and can’t help but want to go back to bed.

When Dave finally calms down he joins you in the kitchen. He leans on the counter next to you and bumps your shoulder with his. You glare at him, still tired from the week and your unplanned early morning. But the glare doesn’t last long when he’s smiling at you with that stupidly beautiful mouth of his.

“I don’t know what you were dreaming about, but if I hope that octopus didn’t mess up your truck too bad,” he can’t even stifle the giggle he lets out at your confused face. Then you realize that you had been talking and not thinking. You hide your face behind a hand and let out another groan. Today was already off to a great start.

“Ah, don’t worry,” he says, pulling your hand away from your face, “I won’t tell anyone about your weird tentacle dream.” You punch him in the arm, and he rubs it with a chuckle.

“You better not, or I’m withholding your coffee before work.” That gets him to shut up, and then you’re laughing at the idioticness of the situation. He watches you, that smile still on his face. You thought you saw something in his eyes, but then he lets out a cough and you realize that the coffee is ready. You pour some in each mug and grab some creamer from the fridge, and hand it to Davey.

He accepts it and pours some in before setting it onto the counter, he adds some sugar before taking a sip. David drinks and contemplates something while you fix your coffee the way you like it. You sip in silence and sooner than you’d like, Davey is saying he has to leave so he can go home and grab a shower and his uniform before work. You say goodbye, and after he closes the door behind him, you let out a wistful sigh.

“Idiot!” you exclaim to yourself. You had been cuddling with Davey, your best friend, and kind of crush and your weird dream just had to ruin it. Letting out another sigh, you look back to your living room, which isn’t in the worst shape it’s ever been, and head to your room. Flopping onto the bed, you quickly fall back asleep.

Waking up much later in the day, you decide to get up and actually do some work. As you gear up to do some serious investigating for that science thing, your phone goes off. Checking it, you see that it was a text from Jack. You have to reread it several times, but even if you turn it sideways, you can’t make out what he was trying to say. You text a quick, “What?” to him and set your phone aside, trying to focus back on the task at hand.

The second your hands touch the keys of your laptop though, your phone goes off again. You see that it’s Jack again, and you still can’t make out what he’s saying. Letting out a huff, and taking a breath to steady yourself, you dial his number. Phone calls may be a horrible experience, but if something had happened you were going to find out.

The phone picks up after the second ring, but you don’t hear anything other than some grunts and what seems to be the phone passing between hands. You hear an outcry of, “Jack!” and you realize that Davey is there too.

“Hello?” you ask, confused as to what was happening on the other end of the line.

“Don’t! Jack!” you hear Davey yell, and then you hear heavy panting.

Your confusion only increases, and you’re about to voice this when you hear Jack say, “I’m doing this for your own good Davey. So, (Y/N),” Jack finally addresses you.

“Yeah? Jack what the hell is going on? What was with those texts? Was someone trying to murder you or something?”

“Well, Dave was trying to stop me from helping him, sorry for the confusion. Now onto important business.” You hear something in the background and then Jack is panting into the phone again. “Davey come on, just let me do this!”

“No!” then you think the phone was dropped.

“Hello?” you ask. “Jack, Davey, can you hear me?”

“Hey! (Y/N)!” Davey answers the phone in a forcefully cheerful tone.

“Davey? What the fuck is happening? Are you two fighting or something?” you ask, knowing that the worst argument the two had gotten into only ended with the silent treatment.

“What? No!” he says, obviously lying. You start to hear Jack say something in the background, but Davey shushes him. “Everything’s fine! Jack just sat on his phone wrong and accidentally sent the texts.”

“That doesn’t happen with a touchscreen, Dave.”

“Doesn’t it?” he asks, obviously nervous. “I’ve seen videos of it happening and stuff like that where Siri turns on and hears a conversation and sends it as a text and-”

“Davey,” you cut him off, “I’m going to hang up and go work on my paper now. I suggest you give Jack back his phone before he takes it back. I’ll talk to you later, bye.” You hang up and shake your head, those goddamn idiots.

What you don’t know is happening on the other side of town is that Davey is breathing a sigh of relief for the first time in an hour. Jack had come into the coffee shop Dave worked at and had been talking to him until it was time for his break. When Davey filled him in on what happened last night, Jack was asking all sorts of questions. He was also trying to text you that Davey was gushing over how adorable you were while asleep.

Jack had had enough of both of your secret pinings and was going to get one of you to confess to the other. Yeah, it was a shitty idea, but Jack just wanted his two knuckleheads of friends to be happy. However, when Davey found out he grabbed his phone and started running. Jack easily caught up to him and then you called when Jack finally had his phone back.

Now the two men were sitting on the sidewalk. Davey had handed Jack his phone back and they were thinking about what had just happened. “I’m sorry for taking your phone,” Davey says quietly.

���I’m sorry for almost talking about your crush.” They shake hands and sit for a few minutes before Jack speaks up again. “I wasn’t going to say it in so many words, but Davey you have to say somethin’ for god’s sakes. I know it’s driving you crazy, and it’s driving him just as crazy! You know it ain’t just girls who obsess over this kind of stuff.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Davey responds with a laugh, “but I get what you’re saying. If I’m thinking about it as much as he is then I should do something. But I don’t want to fuck it up. He could not feel the same way. And he’s the first guy I’ve made a really strong friendship with since I met you and the other news guys, but goddamn is he making it hard to just be friends.” With a sigh, Davey looks at the sky and just looks at the clouds.

“Then howsabout we get it straight from the horse’s mouth?” Davey gives him a look. “Okay, maybe not straight, but you know what I mean.” They share a laugh and then Jack is filling Davey in on a plan that he’s had for quite some time. They plot as you sit unaware on your couch, working on your paper. Boy were you going to be surprised next week.

[sapphicscholar]

Anon: Hello! I love your fics & writing! I know you have a lot of prompts so feel free to disregard / no rush! I would love to see more of NB!Sawyer being a mentor to young(er) NB folks. Thx for considering! I really love reading your NB!Sawyer fics they are phenomenal! And I hope your day is going well! :D

From @geofender -  So, I heard that Asia Kate Dillon came out as a non-binary and pansexual person and received the HRC Visibility Award. Idk if u accept prompts but... can u write NB!Sawyer reacting to this news?

From @lilbevmary -  for more of NB!Sawyer (sorry this one isn’t Director Sanvers!)

And for KimberKatie, I'm sorry this is so much later than expected!!

TW for a brief discussion and instance of misgendering

A/N: This chapter brings back Charli from Chapter 127! Apologies for the delay on getting back to Sawyer – I had this chapter all written on my work computer a little while ago but it got deleted and that was just demoralizing…

Chapter Text:

“Damn, they really went all out this year, huh?” Alex whispered, squeezing Sawyer’s hand as they wove through the throngs of people gathered by the silent auction tables and the line from the makeshift bar that snaked through the room.

“Stuff like this is what makes them enough money to keep going through the year,” Sawyer explained, gently tugging Alex over to a relatively quiet corner of the room so they could figure out the game plan for finding the best food and making sure they saw all the people they wanted to see.

Alex settled up against the wall, feeling Sawyer’s arm settling around her waist. She had to admit, the LGBTQ Center had been completely transformed. The fluorescent lighting had been turned off, replaced with strands of twinkling lights and a few spotlights dotted along the “red carpet” for the award night theme. The TVs—more often tuned to the news or to the handful of television shows that had decent LGBTQ representation—had been moved to the edges of the room and were showing clips from other awards ceremonies.

Sawyer glanced around at the different screens, noting Asia Kate Dillon being awarded the HRC Visibility Award on one screen and them presenting the first non-gendered acting award to Emma Watson on the next. They smiled to themself, dropping their head to Alex’s shoulder.

Noting the direction of Sawyer’s gaze, Alex asked, “Nice to get a bit of representation out there, huh?”

“Yeah,” they nodded. Sure, a handful of people out there did not a revolution make, but people like Dillon and Smith were splashing they/them pronouns on mainstream news sites, getting people who were more likely to read Entertainment Weekly than Everyday Feminism to hear about trans and non-binary and genderqueer labels, among others, and learn in a way that didn’t put the onus for education solely on the shoulders of those few out folks in media.

They pulled their gaze off the speech they had pretty much already memorized and scanned the other screens, finding the cast of Moonlight winning their well-deserved Oscars, Ellen Page coming out, and footage from the annual GLAAD awards. As Sawyer moved to turn back to Alex, they noted Charli lingering near the entrance, a roll of raffle tickets hanging from their wrist and a broad smile on their face.

“Should we go buy some tickets? Give Charli a little business?” Alex asked, looking over at the entrance as well.

“Ah, well, they should earn their free dinner,” Sawyer teased. “I’ll go grab tickets from them if you want to find us food.”

“You’ve got a deal. Dessert first?”

“Always.”

While Alex peered over the food table, inspecting all of the options and making small talk with a few of the staff members from the Center she had gotten to know over the past couple of months, Sawyer found their way over to Charli. “Excuse me, I’ll need all of your tickets,” they announced dramatically. “I need to win all of the prizes for my fiancée.” They still beamed at the new title—at the subtle band that sat on their left ring finger—a reminder of the forever they had promised one another.

“That so, Sawyer? Here I thought she stayed with you for love. Didn’t realize it was just your deep pockets.”

“Ouch! You wound me,” Sawyer teased, though they were glad to see Charli in high spirits. As much as they had opened up to Sawyer their first time meeting in the Center, it had taken a while for Charli to begin treating Sawyer as more of an equal—someone they could tease right back instead of someone who was always in the role of mentor and adult and educator.

“Yeah, yeah, somehow I don’t think the hurt will last.”

“Mm, probably not,” Sawyer agreed. “Now, how goes the volunteering? Any fun stories to tell? You know: sharing is caring and gossip is best shared with your dear friend and mentor…”

“You just wanna know if Marc brought the boyfriend that he hasn’t let anyone meet.”

“Did he?”

Charli laughed and shook their head. “He’s been here since noon panicking about all the last-minute decisions. He would’ve been the worst date.”

“Fair…” Sawyer mused, looking around to see if they had questions about anyone else in the vicinity. “Everyone being alright to you?”

Charli shrugged, their smile faltering slightly. “Eh, a few people see the dress and keep calling me miss, but, I don’t know, I guess it’s fine.”

“You can correct them, you know, if you feel comfortable.” They knew that the Center had become something of a safe place for Charli, a place where they could be out and open, could come and know that people wouldn’t misgender them or assume they were straight and cis just because they wore a skirt and lip gloss.

“It’s fine. It’s—tonight isn’t about me.”

Sawyer pursed their lips, not wanting to force Charli to do anything but also knowing just how demoralizing it could get when person after person wasn’t getting it, wasn’t acknowledging that there might be something wrong with assuming a he/she gender binary at a freaking LGBTQ Center event. Catching sight of Alex with a still empty plate talking to one of the Center’s board members who had been trying to talk her into running for a spot on the board now that she spent almost as much time as Sawyer in the Center, Sawyer decided they could hang out with Charli a little while longer, help make sure that they were being treated well even by the attendees who only showed up at the Center for its twice yearly black tie events.

The next few guests were fine. One knew Charli and greeted them with a warm hug as he thanked them for giving up their night to help out, then introduced them to his husband, and the next few were polite enough as they declined the offer to buy tickets, most of them making a beeline for the bar instead. The next group to stroll in brushed right past without listening to Charli’s pitch about the proceeds going to a good cause, and they caught Sawyer’s gaze and rolled their eyes. “Keeps happening.”

“Yeah, well, at least we’ve got a cash bar so that we still get something out of them.”

“Excuse me, miss?” came a guest’s voice as she made her way through the door. “Can you tell me where the reserved seating is?”

“Uh, sure,” Charli answered, gritting their teeth and gesturing at the door and toward the rows closest to the stage. “Left side is reserved for Center staff and awardees. Right side for family and friends of the Center.”

“Thank you, dear. Also, I love your dress. You look so pretty!”

“They do have a rather wonderful sense of style,” Sawyer cut in, throwing an arm around Charli and grinning down at them.

“Oh, ah, yes—yes, they do.”

As she wandered off into the crowd, Charli looked up at Sawyer. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I didn’t have to—and I won’t again if you don’t want me to—but I know I like it when Alex does it for me when I’m not quite feeling up to it.”

“Yeah…thanks,” they mumbled.

“Anytime, kiddo.”

“Excuse me, I’m 16 years old.”

“Psh, barely.”

“I can drive!”

“Don’t own a car, though.”

“You’re rude.”

“I’m delightful.”

Charli just rolled their eyes and turned back to the door, almost immediately turning back to Sawyer with an undignified little squeak.

“You okay?” Sawyer asked, all signs of teasing gone as they went into protective mentor mode.

“Yeah! Yeah, um, totally fine,” Charli rambled, their gaze flicking back and forth between Sawyer and the line of people filing in through the main entrance.

Sawyer scanned the crowd, their gaze lighting on one of the high school-aged girls they’d noticed hanging around the Center once or twice over the past few weeks. “Have anything to do with Neeti showing up?” they asked, a knowing glint in their eyes and a teasing smile on their lips.

“No!”

“Really? So your cheeks are just always pink and I haven’t noticed it?”

“Yep, mhm.”

“You should talk to her.”

“We already talk.”

“Why not tonight?”

“She just…” Charli trailed off, finally letting out a dramatic sigh and giving in. “This past week I think…I think maybe she was flirting with me?”

“Do tell! Let me get Alex, hold on!”

“No!”

“Fine, I’ll wait a few minutes. Spill.”

“I don’t know! She just said something about how it would be nice to see me outside the Center and maybe we should get coffee, just the two of us.”

“So she asked you out on a date.”

“I don’t know.”

“No, I’m telling you: she asked you on a date.”

“Well it’s happening in two days—whatever it is.”

“Oh my gosh, we need to make sure she’s good enough for our baby! We need get Alex over here first. She’s better at the intimidation tactics.”

“Ugh, you’re like the embarrassing parents I thought I escaped for the night,” Charli sighed, but the smile they kept trying to hide suggested otherwise.

“Oh, Alex!” Sawyer called out, motioning for her to come over and join them.

Eventually Alex made it through the crowd, two plates of food held aloft to keep them safe. She arched an eyebrow as she handed over a plate. “You bellowed?”

“Charli here has a date this week and is in desperate need of some embarrassing parental figures for the night, which means we need some shitty dad jokes to properly embarrass them. Hit me with your worst puns!”

“Why do you think I would just know bad puns?”

Charli snickered as Sawyer shrugged, looking far too innocent. “I’m just saying, out of the two of us…I’m too funny to tell jokes that awful.”

“I resent that. You’re barely funny.”

“Quite the opposite—I crack myself up.”

“Yeah, yeah, Sawyer. If you’re the only one laughing…”

“Hush,” Sawyer retorted, silencing Alex with a kiss.

“Alright, well, I’m gonna leave you two lovebirds alone…”

“Not so fast!” Alex called, handing off her plate to Sawyer and rounding on Charli. “Tell me all about your mystery date. Who are they?”

Charli sighed, even though they were secretly pleased that Alex had been just as welcoming as Sawyer. She certainly didn’t have any obligation to—not that Sawyer did either, but at least they were a volunteer—but Alex had been quick to invite Charli over to their home and hang out with old science journals while Sawyer chatted with Charli about their own experience coming out and dealing with assholes out in the world. Every so often she would lean over the back of the couch and chime in with words of encouragement or grumbled threats when Sawyer recounted some of the more egregious stories, but she was just as happy to open her doors and let the two of them take over the kitchen for the night.

“Well, her name is Neeti—she’s the one over in the black pants and the maroon shirt over there. She goes to the private school across town, but she lives kind of close to me. She’s really smart.”

“Dating nerds is the best!” Sawyer crowed through a mouthful of cupcake.

“One day she saw me in the Center reading Macbeth for my English class, and when I threw it down, she came over and sat with me and helped translate it into modern English, told me it helps to read it aloud or see it performed.”

“That sounds like a nice date idea…” Alex trailed off, grinning at the way Charli’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“No, I mean, she invited me over to come watch some of the movies, but I think she was just trying to help me with my homework.”

“Who do you think is more oblivious,” Sawyer asked, a shit-eating grin on their lips, “Charli or Kara?”

“Oh man, I can only pick one?” Alex laughed.

“You’re the worst.”

“That’s factually incorrect. We feed you. Now let us meet your totally just a friend that you have a big crush on who wants you to come over her house to cuddle and watch movies with her.”

Charli grimaced but dutifully waved to Neeti. And, as nervous as they might have been about introducing her to Sawyer, they also knew that Sawyer always had their best intentions at heart. Plus, if waving at Neeti earned them that smile…well, they would wave a hundred times more.

“Hey, Charli!” Neeti greeted them, pulling them in for a hug that had Sawyer and Alex giving exaggerated thumbs up to Charli behind Neeti’s back.

“Hey! I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

“Oh yeah, well, um, I remembered you mentioning it, so…”

Sawyer just barely resisted the urge to let out a loud noise of excitement at the adorable awkward flirting.

“Cool, yeah, I’m, uh, really glad you made it.”

“Yeah?” Neeti beamed at Charli. “I know you’re stuck on door duty for a while, but want me to go steal you some dessert?”

“It would be a shame if you missed out on the cannoli,” Sawyer interjected, unable to resist any longer.

Seeing the look of confusion on Neeti’s face at the new voices, Charli took a deep breath and introduced them: “Neeti, this is Sawyer.”

“You look familiar,” Neeti noted.

“Yeah, I volunteer at the Center. But normally just on weekends.”

“Ah okay, yeah, I come in after school sometimes, but not a lot on the weekends.”

Sawyer bit their tongue and didn’t ask whether it was because Charli also tended to spend a couple of nights a week in the Center working on their homework.

“And this is Alex, their fiancée,” Charli added, gesturing toward Alex who offered a wave and a small smile.

“Nice to meet you, Neeti.”

“You too.”

Deciding the awkward hovering between just friends and trying to date wasn’t the best time to subject Charli and Neeti to an interrogation or shovel talks, Alex turned to Sawyer. “What do you say we go hit the buffet one more time before we find our seats?”

“It doesn’t start for another half hour,” Sawyer protested.

“And you can’t think of any way to spend half an hour with your fiancée?” Alex shot Sawyer a pointed look, trying to communicate that they should leave the two young ones to themselves, give them a chance to flirt awkwardly and stumble their way toward realizing that the liking bit wasn’t one-sided.

“Oh…oh! Okay, sure!” Shooting a wink over their shoulder at Charli, they called, “She means stuffing our faces with dessert and playing 20 Questions, just so we’re all clear!”

“Whatever you say, Sawyer! Whatever you say,” Charli laughed, turning back to Neeti, their broad grin morphing into a shy smile. “So, uh, how was your week?”

Sawyer was tempted to linger, hiding behind a group of tall people, but they let Alex drag them back to the table for proper dinner food this round. “If things go any further between them…”

“If it goes further, you can get in line behind me to make sure that they both have only the best of intentions.”

“And you’ll do the dad jokes?”

“Why do you keep insisting I tell dad jokes?”

“Look, Danvers…I’m not saying it wasn’t adorable, but I do remember the anniversary card you wrote me that began with asking me if I was made of copper and some other element ’cause I was so damn cute.”

“Tellurium,” Alex interjected, grinning and chuckling to herself.

“See! Big nerd—right there.”

Alex silenced them with a kiss, feeling their lips pulling up into a broad smile and fearing another teasing remark was coming. “If you wanna get as lucky as DNA helicase tonight…” She let the threat linger in the air.

“But you’re not even wearing jeans, Danvers!”

[baudelaire-library-blog]

Atypical

This is a short little trans!Klaus fic I’ve written for @autisticnoahfoster, because Josh and I are just tiny transkids getting by on headcanons, and Klaus is 100% a gentle transboy.

This isn’t accurate to canon, I’ve made it so the siblings end up living happily with Monty forever with no Olaf intervention.

Klaus Baudelaire first became aware of the concept of gender at the age of six as he was working through his parent’s large library shelf by shelf. He was, at that point, on the third shelf from the bottom (and rapidly running out of options, since he had always been short for his age and couldn’t reach shelf number 4), which is where he encountered a book titled “A Stranger In My Own Body: Atypical Gender Identity Development and Mental Health”. The book was hardcover, slightly heavy, and it weighed Klaus down as he slid it off the shelf. He carried it over to the large armchair, where he remained for more than 12 hours, taking detailed notes.

A habit of Klaus’s had always been to take notes whilst reading- he was a fan of lists, and his notebook full of records made it possible to organise his thoughts, and revisit his new knowledge if he ever found himself forgetting something important. He often found it soothing to sit in his room with the lights dimmed and read back through his folders.

The notes he made while reading this book were incredibly detailed and specific, more so than usual. Gender was never really a concept that had occurred to him before- his parents were relaxed in how their children chose to dress and behave, so when their younger daughter had asked to cut off all of her shoulder length hair and give away her dresses and skirts, they hadn’t seen it as anything worth mentioning. To them, she was just a girl that didn’t like to be feminine (which, in their opinion, was a societal construct that nobody should be required to adhere to in any case). However, as Klaus made his way through a book filled with facts and research that told him that it was possible not to be what you’re expected to be, he became increasingly convinced that ‘Laila Baudelaire’ didn’t exist.

By the time Beatrice Baudelaire walked into the library at 9 o’clock to take her child to bed, she found Klaus fast asleep with a book closed in his lap and a page of his notebook filled with neatly printed facts about gender divergence and the disconnect between sex and gender. The page ended with “Conclusion: I think I might be a boy”.

She carried the sleeping child upstairs to his room and switched the light off, promising herself that she’d speak to him soon about everything.

---

The next morning, the Baudelaire parents were woken before dawn broke by their youngest child sitting at the end of the bed with a clip board and a series of flashcards. His hair was messy and falling in his eyes, and his glasses weren’t yet on, causing him to squint a little in order to make out the features of his parents faces. Beatrice noted that his pyjamas were getting slightly small on him, the ends of the sleeves only coming partway down his wrists. She smiled fondly at him, and marvelled at how old he seemed to have gotten all of a sudden.

“Mother, Father. I couldn’t sleep so I’ve put together a presentation.” “Laila, it’s not even six yet.” mumbled Bertram, scrambling sluggishly to sit upright in his bed. “This is important. Do you know what Gender Identity Disorder is?”

He continued to walk them through his notes, complete with diagrams and references, for a further hour until he felt they understood where he was coming from. When both parents nodded and agreed that Klaus was almost certainly correct in his feelings that he should have been born male, the young boy felt a breath of relief leave him that it felt like he’d been holding for 12 hours. They sat and discussed for a while longer how they could accommodate his feelings and validate his identity. They eventually came to the conclusion that, for now at least, the boy was content with a simple change of language- for him to be referred to as their son, with masculine aligned pronouns, and the name he would have been given had he been assigned male at birth.

—

From that day onwards, he lived as Klaus, and memories of Laila were all buried.

Violet, of course, was onboard immediately even without Klaus’ detailed explanation (however, when she noticed quite how much her little brother seemed itching to educate her, she sat down and diligently listened to the presentation, accepting note cards and information packets she was expected to keep for future reference. She even smiled and nodded when Klaus ran away with himself and his words tumbled together into an unintelligible string of sounds that she couldn’t quite make out).

When Sunny was born, she was brought up as neutrally as possible- Bertram and Beatrice refused to give in to pink babygrows and a pastel pink nursery, instead opting to raise her in soft yellows and whites until she was old enough to choose for herself what she liked. She spent time with Violet every day, watching her sister build and invent, with her eyes filled with wonder and her tiny hands grabbing for the tools (though, in hindsight, that could solely have been a desire to use Violet’s favourite screwdriver as a chew toy). She was closest, however, to Klaus, who was her best friend from the first day she came home. There was never any clear reason why, but the two were thick as thieves almost immediately. Klaus was a fiercely protective older brother, always filled with the softest love for his little sister. His only wish on his twelfth birthday was for his baby sister to grow up happy, safe, and herself.

Klaus knew he was lucky to be in such an environment, one where gender roles were the subject of jokes and disagreement, instead of being rule of law for raising children. Looking back, he couldn’t picture himself and Violet growing up with waist length pigtails and frilly frocks, pushed to cooking and dressing up rather than reading and creating. There was something about his parents’ attitude that kids have a right to discover and decide for themselves that filled Klaus’ heart with warmth. He knew, from the moment they accepted him, that he wanted to model his future self after them.

—

The Baudelaire fire arguably hit Klaus harder than either of his sisters. Violet, at fourteen, was ferociously mature and independent, emotionally able to get through anything. And Sunny, despite being less than a year old, had already developed a level of stability that Klaus didn’t expect to ever reach in his life.

When he lost his parents, he lost his security. Although they weren’t 100% capable, Violet and Sunny could easily cope on their own, but Klaus was too sensitive. Through the jumble of anger, sadness, and sheer terror that seemed to cloud his brain from the moment Mr Poe’s ominous figure descended onto Briny Beach and delivered the dreadful news that grey morning, Klaus was internally kicking himself for expressing any form of emotion whatsoever. “I’m a boy. Boys don’t do this. Crying is weakness, weakness is feminine.” Although the conscious part of him was aware that sensitivity wasn’t rooted in gender, and that women were far from weak, too much of him was filled with darkness and hurt to listen to that part of him. In his world, everything had come crashing down- two of the only people that truly understood him had gone, forever, taken away like a wisp of smoke.

The first night at the Poe household, he managed to wake Edgar and Albert by sobbing gently into his pillowcase. Apparently, to real men like the Poe boys, losing both of your parents in a sudden and tragic accident wasn’t a valid excuse for a boy to be in tears, so they threw pillows at Klaus until he learnt to cry silently. Then, life at Count Olaf’s house, where he was faced with psychological abuse and constant misgendering every opportunity, had sucked so much out of the siblings that even crying felt too much for Klaus. He dragged himself through everyday, so caught up in trying to solve everything, save everyone, protect his sisters with his every waking breath, and burned himself out. He found himself drifting away like ash in wind, and the only chunk left of him that felt capable of feeling anything at all, felt strongly that he wished he had perished alongside his parents that dreadful day.

—

When the Baudelaires arrived at their Uncle Monty’s home, it took a long while for Klaus to come back to his old self. He had become used to nothing going right, and refused to become comfortable with a new guardian until he was certain they were safe. Safety felt a long way off for him, though, even if his sister’s felt secure in their new home.

Klaus settled into a rigid caricature of his old self for the first few weeks. Everyday he would rise, silently eat breakfast at the table until he was excused, and resign himself to the library for the remainder of the day. He would sit stiffly in an uncomfortable desk chair, refusing to allow himself access to the heavenly-looking beanbag, because comfort isn’t possible in a world of uncertainty. For people like him, comfort is a myth. He read and read until he ran out of books on the shelves, and then started from the beginning, this time with a pencil and paper to take notes, just as he did when he was a child. Reality hit when he realised that the past couple months had completely ripped out every core part of who he once was, as he struggled to even comprehend what he was reading about the Virginian Wolfsnake, let alone write it up.

All the heartbreak culminated when he came across another shelf in the library, filled with fiction and photo albums. One album was titled Baudelaires in the loopy script that was so unmistakably his mother’s. A tear was already trickling down his left cheek, which he aggressively wiped away because manly, manly, manly.

He couldn’t internalise the pain once he reached the second page and saw LAILA ROSE BAUDELAIRE, 22.03.2000 accompanied by that one hideous baby photo in which he’s wearing a puffy knee white length dress and pink ribbons in his hair. He allowed himself to cave, to give into all the demons that had been tearing him apart since the day he stepped foot in the charred ruins of his childhood sanctuary. He sank to the floor with the photo album clutched to his chest, his hands shaking. He cried out desperately for his mother, begged for his father, wished for some way that he could see them again. He needed his mother’s soothing voice telling him that he was such an intelligent boy, the brightest young man she’s ever met, the son anyone who be lucky to have. He wanted his father to marvel at his work and look down with a tear in his eye as he wonders at how someone like him ended up with such a perfect son. Realistically, Klaus knew that could never happen. Logic told him that his parents were dead, gone, buried. But his heart, the heart he’d tried to switch off so desperately, was crying out for a miracle.

Instead of a miracle, he received a Monty. Which, looking back, he realised was an incredibly close second.

His uncle found him on the floor of the library and pulled him straight into a hug. He held the shaking boy close and sobbed with him; the man let out loud, ugly cries that couldn’t possibly be seen as manly. Klaus’s damp eyes widened as he looked at the scene in front of him.

Monty, a tall, cisgender scientist with an incredible moustache and not a hint of femininity surrounding him, was in tears. Actual, messy tears. The kind of tears that so many people had told Klaus he couldn’t shed because they would stop him being seen as the boy he was. Something there clicked in the 12 year old- somewhere in his brain, his emotions felt like they’d been switched back on. Sadness didn’t feel like breaking anymore, it felt like a normal human feeling.

He started to pick up the pieces of the old Klaus from that point onwards. As Monty helped him cover up the page of the photo album and replace it with a current photo and the words KLAUS CASSIAN BAUDELAIRE, 22.03.2000, he recovered his sense of pride. As he went shopping with Violet for new gears for her newest invention (a shower head that acted as a three-in-one soap dispenser, shower, and hairdryer to save water, money, and time) he recovered the feeling of childlike wonder. As he babysat Sunny and watched her open cans of pasta sauce and chocolate pudding with her large teeth, he remembered how to feel love without pain. The first time Uncle Monty took all three children to the cinema together, Klaus remembered how to be happy. And he never let that go, in all the rest of the years he lived with Monty.

—

On Klaus’s 17th birthday, he received a small gift wrapped vial from Monty. He knew what it was as soon as he saw the size and shape of the package and tried his best to still his shaking hands as he unwrapped the present. As expected, it was a shot of testosterone, and Klaus flung himself into his uncle’s arms for a hug, sobbing with gratitude. After five years in a safe home with a loving parental figure, the boy had learnt to show emotions again. Nowadays, he took pride in being called a crybaby. He realised, somewhere along the line, that his parents would be so proud of him for being able to be sensitive and smart when so much of the world has told him that those traits were strictly for girls. They would be proud of the man he’s grown up to be, and that fact alone is enough for him.

Violet’s gift was also small, but meant just as much. It was a little bottle of blue nail polish, silver glitter swirling in with it.

“You remembered." “Of course I did, Klaus. You always stole mine when we were little. One of your first notecards to me was ‘one day i will take over the world with a huge beard and some really sparkly nails’. Monty’s present gets you one step closer to the beard, so I’m really just filling in the blanks."

Klaus grinned, a genuine smile taking over him. It hit him in that very moment that this was exactly where he needed to be. Although it would, of course, be preferable for his mother and father to be stood by his side as well, he realised that the family that he had built for himself through everything was strong, and sensitive, and perfect.