[cw: needles, oblique references to transfemme genitalia and arousal, oblique references to pregnancy; awkwardness, technically littering. Discussions of fascist violence, historical and current]
This is unconnected to any of the other stuff, just something I felt like writing without actually having "gotten to it" yet. I'll probably rewrite it some day, but I'll probably rewrite all of it. This was actually written before I started doing my injections, and isn't actually how I went about doing them. I'd seen my then-girlfriend doing her injections and she walked me through them. She didn't even realize I hadn't started yet when I wrote this, and was surprised at how realistic it was, but I pointed out that I was literally quoting her. Meanwhile when I did switch to injections, I actually just screwed up my eyes and slammed the needle down into my thigh. That served me well for about all of two months before I fucked up and bled a lot and got to scared to continue. Now that I'm back on them, I actually have been going slower, though in a different way. Frankly with Sabrina she should have far less problems doing injections. But at the same time it's very reasonable and realistic to have someone who can get her head cleaved by a sword to be afraid of needles; fears like that aren't really rational to begin with.
Beyond me just wanting to write an injection scene, this serves as Sabrina just getting flustered by a hot guy. The two talking about trans issues and history of persecution is topical, but more than that it also works into the whole "Camuel is also trans but Sabrina doesn't know it yet" angle.
I ran my fingertips along the cold stone of the Underworld as we walked quietly, the rhythmic tapping of my broom on the ground the only other sound besides our bootsteps and my breathing. It was unsettling to know Camuel was behind me and to not be able to sense his life. I’d never really been around vampires for long enough to ever really notice that. A physical presence, but no vitality.
But Grandmother was watching him, and he hadn’t stabbed me in the back yet, so I felt safe enough.
“Sabrina…” he began, but was cut off as the playful, sped up electronic xylophones came blaring from my hip pocket.
“Spooky scary skeletons, send shivers down your spine”
I grabbed my phone and swiped the alarm off, leaning on the broom.
“Hold up,” I said, shrugging off my pack and sitting it against the wall. “Gotta take my meds.”
Camuel just stared at me for a moment.
“Meds?”
“Medication? You stayed dead, I didn’t.” Getting out of all my gear was so annoying. Too many belts and clasps. The heavy utility belt made a thunk on the stone floor. I pulled my med case out and sat against the pack’s frame. “Gotta keep this body in shape.”
With a shrug, Cam slipped his own pack off and placed it neatly beside him, preferring to stand. He crossed his arms. I rolled my eyes and snorted.
First the pills. Two of them, one little and blue, the other way too fucking big, like a little egg of collagen.. I popped them into my palm and downed them with a swig from my canteen.
“You have some sort of… disease?”
“Hah,” I said, nearly choking on the water. I dried my mouth off with my sleeve. “No.” I shook the next batch of pills out of the case, holding each up in turn, “finasteride… and progesterone.”
“Oh.” He said flatly, though he remembered to blink, which is better than many other vampires I’ve met. “And what is it that they do?”
I gestured to my chest and arched my back. He averted his eyes and I couldn’t help but smirk. “They keep these up, mostly.”
“They give you breasts?” Cam asked, doggedly staring at my hat, save for a quick glance down.
I bet if he was alive he’d be blushing. I wonder if it would show up on skin that tan. The look on his face—or, really, the way he tried to avoid having a look—was certainly appealing.
“Yeah, Yaldabaoth didn’t see fit to give me any, so I had to take matters into my own hands.” Now the fun part. Pills away, time for the needle. And a little teasing. I could feel Grandmother tittering inside me. Always nice when she approves of my antics. “You know, I put so much effort into them it’s fine to take a peek.”
He looked down, face an impassive mask. “Yalda… that is the Gnostic Demiurge?”
“Hey, got it in one,” I said, pulling out a fresh needle and screwing it into the syringe and following along as I described it “But let’s stick to the topic at hand. So I take this heavy gauge needle and use it to draw the estradiol. So what do you think of the breasts anyway?”
He may not have needed to breathe, but I still heard an intake of breath and looked up to see him trying to recover. He looked a little to the left, and made slow motions with his hands while he spoke and I drew the clear liquid from the vial. Raise the little vial, pull down the plunger. Push the plunger back up to get out the air.
“They are… that is to say. Round.”
“Round”
“Yes.”
I snorted. “I’ll take it. Anyway, now I swap the needles. Top is supposed to go back on this one.”
Despite what I just said, I flicked the spare needle off into the darkness. It’s the Underworld, no one gives a shit and the psychopomps aren’t going to get hurt the way a squirrel or dog might. Cam just watched it go and turned back to me as I was screwing the next needle on.
“I am still unsure what this medicine is for. You want larger breasts? For what purpose?”
Once the needle was on I set the case down and motioned Cam over. After only a bit of hesitation he came, and I used his hand to get up enough to slide my pants down to my thigh.
Cam’s eyes went wide. “That is a penis” he said matter-of-factly, before realizing he was staring at my panties and looked away. That’s when he noticed the gnarled muscle of my right thigh. “Skatá!”
“Yup. I’ve got one of those.” The leg is pretty bad. There’s a reason I’m always limping, and that broom I use isn’t just for show, it’s a walking stick. But I was focused more on doing my injection. “Anyway, now did you put it together, or did you not notice the pins on my backpack?”
“You are very comfortable with your body,” Camuel observed. He seemed to finally be wising up, and didn’t have a problem looking me over.
There’s no breeze down in these passages between the Dominions, but I shivered anyway. Maybe you shouldn’t play with someone who sees you as food, Grandmother seemed to say. Oh, so now she was worried?
“I put a lot of effort into it,” I said with a one shoulder shrug.
I looked up into his eyes. He didn’t look away. Damn. He was so close, too. The light from my lantern was shit but I was pretty sure they were green. And that stubble and the tight curls of his shaggy black hair, pulled back but still framing his dark skin. Piercing eyes, like a fucking forest. He didn’t blink this time. Damn.
I wasn’t going to show weakness to a leech. But also I shifted in my makeshift seat. Damned living, warm body and it’s urges and flow of blood. Damned tight panties. I cleared my throat, still looking him dead in the eye. “Anyway.” He seemed to take the hint and blinked. Intentionally? Or simply a reflex, a memory of a time when he was alive? Either way. I waggled the needle, and flicked the cap of with my thumb.
He nodded, and gestured for me to continue.
“Normally, I’d want to sanitize the injection site, but I’m pretty sure I could literally rub dirt on a wound and still wouldn’t get an infection, so carrying the alcohol wipes seems a bit unnecessary. I’ve got a spot right here above my wound I like to go for. Needle goes in. Barely feel it.”
I let the needle just stand there, sticking up just a few inches into the flesh of my thigh, hands on either side to frame it. Camuel knelt down to watch. Did his eyes just flick to my crotch? oh, he was definitely too close. Too fucking hot for a corpse, but then again so am I. Was my pulse quicker? Was I blushing? No, I would not blush. Not around one of these things. When I didn’t do anything else he glanced up.
“You are turning red.”
Fuck. “Yeah, well, it’s cold and my pants are around my knees, dumbass.” Was that laying it on too thick?
“Yes. I suppose it is cold.”
In the clear. Probably. I mean, it’s not like he knows the difference, he’s dead. How much experience does he have with blushing these days?
“Anyway.” I said again, and he turned to look at the syringe. “I slide the needle down, into the flesh. I go into the side, avoiding the bone. Once it’s all the way in, plunger goes down. Slowly. I’m in no hurry.”
I tried to focus on the feeling of estrogen making it’s way into my muscle, and not the attractive undead monster who seemed intrigued by it. A little bit of pressure as it soaked it’s way in. Maybe it was better if my blood was in my cheeks instead of elsewhere. I sat there for a moment, letting it sink in. Then before capping this one, I took out a lighter and burned the tip to get rid of any traces of blood—just a habit—unscrewed the needle and tossed it back down the stone corridor with the other one. I listened to it skitter in the dark, then started putting my syringe and vial away, securing them in their case.
“Help me up,” I said. And that absolute fucker did it without complaining, the bastard!
“So you were a man?” he asked, with an infuriating lack of antagonism.
I winced.
Bad enough that I had to hunch over to hide things. I leaned against him with one arm and pulled my jeans back up. Much better. Still had to shift around a bit. Everything was so neatly arranged and now it had to go and do this.
“Something like that. Though keep in mind I transitioned when I was eight. Two years back to living as a boy in foster care, but I was on GnRH at twelve, and the Twilight Network helped me get titty skittles when I was seventeen. Not to mention Grandmother’s ‘herbal teas’. I’ve been a woman all my life.”
He didn’t say anything, but seemed preoccupied with something. Which was good, because I just realized I was still holding onto his arm. I let go, and took up my broom instead, and started the process of belting myself into my various packs.
“I apologize. You are a woman. I simply find you intriguing.”
“Me?”
There was a beat. “Your condition. You have used medication to alter your body to better fit the way you want it to be?”
I snorted. “Something like that.”
“This is admirable,” he said with a nod, not really seeming to be talking to me. “I am simply surprised to find someone like you. The All Night Society is filled with ‘all types’, I think the saying is.”
“Something like that,” I agreed again, rubbing my thigh. “Anyway.”
I hucked my pack on, Camuel picked up his own, and we started walking down the tunnels. Just the quiet. I could hear the sound of one of the Rivers in the distance. The Erish-ki-gal it should be. The River of Dead Seed was an unmistakable sound, a mix of the gentle passage of water and the susurration of seed pods churning in the flow. Dried and hardened from age even in the River’s waters, the seeds had been carving furrows in the Underworld since time immemorial, and now I knew the River to be one of the wider in the land of the dead.
I always think about it when I cross, or even walk the banks. They say that the seeds of the Mesopotamian goddess the River is named after will restore virility to any dick, and let life flourish in the most barren womb. I don’t even want kids, but it’s hard not to think about. The Rivers beg you to think about them. To contemplate them. Even if you’re chemically castrated. Of course, they’re not just supposed to let you fuck better. The River of Dead Seed makes you bear children. Even two women could get it on and have a kid. Or two men. Or…
Stop, child
Grandmother stirring knocked me out of my thoughts. She stood off to the side of my vision now, tattered gray-black dress flapping gently in a breeze that wasn’t there. She wasn’t walking, but she moved as I did. Her face was always shadowed, but I could tell that beneath the brim of her alewife had she was giving me a chastizing expression. Jesus, I hope Camuel wasn’t one of those leeches that can read thoughts. How fucking embarrassing. Maybe he was one of the ones that makes you fawn over them. Yeah, right.
“Sabrina,” I heard from behind me, and nearly jumped.
Fuck! Maybe he was. My broom slipped on a pebble and I stumbled forward. That Goddamned bastard grabbed my arm and kept me from faceplanting down the slight incline. Fuck he was strong.
“Did I startle you? I apologize. I was simply thinking about what you said earlier.”
Fuck, think about something stupid. I hear it's amazing when the famous purple stuffed worm in flap-jaw space with the tuning fork does a raw blink on Hara-Kiri Rock. I need scissors! 61! Those damned deep green eyes just stared down at me. No reaction.
Off to the side, Grandmother crossed her arms and tilted her head at me. Despite not strictly speaking having a face, she was an expert at rolling her eyes. She shook her head and disappeared.
Caution.
“No, I’m good,” I said, pulling away from his grip. He didn’t resist, the fucking gentleman. “Anyway, you said something?”
“I was just thinking that I have met others like you.”
“Huh? Trans women?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, there are tons of us. Though I guess you’re pretty old, don’t really seem the type to keep up with the news. Do vampires even own TVs?”
He looked at me with that flat expression. “Sabrina, why would vampires not have televisions?”
“I don’t have a television,” I said with a shrug.
He raised one of those eyebrows of his.
I shrugged, and tapped my broom handle on the ground. “I squat in an abandoned speakeasy. No internet connection.”
“What does the internet have to do with television?”
“Isn’t it the same thing?” I wondered. I actually wasn’t sure.
“No, people these days have televisions connected to the internet, but before a decade ago, televisions were connected through cables. Or, wireless antenna. And in my day, you simply went to a movie theater if you wanted to see motion picture. Or wanted to get out of the heat of the summer.”
“Wait, so we had wifi and then went back to cables for a bit?”
“I… nevermind about television,” Camuel said with a shake of his head, though I caught a smirk there as well, “I wanted to tell you about the other trans women that I have met. Men, too. Though they were said to be bisexual, which rather confusingly means something else these nights.”
I sat down on the frame of my pack again and fished around in my satchels to grab a trial ration. Well, a chewy granola bar shoplifted from the supermarket. Doesn’t sound as fancy.
“Yeah, words are silly like that,” I said, finally finding my snack and tearing it open. “So what about them? Guess they didn’t have the fancy needles and shit back then?”
“No, they did not,” Cam said with a smile as he watched me fiddle with my pockets. “Do they still demand that you have a license to crossdress in public, or is that requirement no longer a thing.”
Wheels started turning in my head. That sounded familiar.
“Nope. Or if they do, I’m breaking the law. Love a bit of illegalism. Wait, when did you know these people?”
He winced, and looked away, down the passageway. I wonder if he could hear the Erish-Ki-Gal. He turned back and held out a hand.
Dead flesh or not, I really wanted to hold his hand. Instead, I heeded Grandmother's warning and brushed him off, pushing up with the broom and my hand.
“So is this going where I think it’s going?” I asked, tossing my wrapper aside. “I don’t do that topside, by the way,” I said, eliciting a snort from Cam. “Down here it doesn’t matter, some ghost will find it and tack it up outside of their little hovel.”
“I believe you. This would have been in the early 1930s.”
Ah. “In Germany?”
“Yes. I do not know what happened to them. Things were getting bad. Many were hassled by the police.”
I tightened my grip on the broom. “History repeats itself.”
“Yes. While it is not within the sphere of things I keep abreast of, the things that are happening to those like you does tend to breach into the wider news. What little I do know of seems concerning.”
“All this has happened before, and all this will happen again.”
“Yes. I can’t help but worry for… wait, was that a… Battlestar Galactica quote?” Cam asked, turning around to look at me with an eyebrow raised.
I smirked, and gave him a shrug. “I said I didn’t have a television. Anyway. One of those fuckers tried to start shit with me.”
“With you? How did he know, you…” He trailed off when he saw my face. He cleared his throat, for my benefit. “Apologies. I am not certain how to speak of such things.”
This time it was me rolling my eyes. I couldn’t help but smile, though. I pointed to the enamel pink, white, and blue pin on my bag strap. “Had one of these on me.”
“Ah, and you… ‘gave him what for’?” Cam asked.
“Hah, damned right I did. Broke that Nazi fucker’s arm and kicked his ribs in for good measure.” Cam’s smile at that was infectious. “Crouched down beside him and took his ID out of his wallet and told him that if he ever tried that again on anyone, I’d find him and send him to Hell.” I felt a bit of playful squirming in the place where my soul used to be. “Grandmother helped a bit. Pretty sure he pissed himself.”
“You are very interesting,” Camuel said with a smile. “Though I cannot say I would not have beaten this man were I there.”
I smirked like the Cheshire Cat. “Oh? You’d have beaten him up for little ol’ me?”
He turned away before I could catch his expression, and started walking down the tunnel. “Perhaps. Is that another River nearby?”