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rainbowfic2026-01-15 03:41 pm
paradoxcase) wrote in rainbowfic2026-01-15 03:41 pm
Warm Heart #5 [Tales From the Neighborhood]
Name: Practical Magic
Story: Tales From the Neighborhood
Plot Thread: Grant/Scott/William
Colors: Warm Heart #5: Need
Styles and Supplies: Life Drawing, Silhouette, Gesso
Word Count: 1923
Rating: PG
Warnings: Deadnaming and misgendering of a trans character from their own POV, because they don't really figure themselves out until the end of this piece (their real name is a spoiler until the end of this one, hence the grey bar in the plot thread name and the character list)
Characters: Grant Thomas/Scott Hanby, Bethany Ramirez
Summary: Margery Thomas had always been different.
Notes: New plot thread, about a different part of the neighborhood. See the sim notes for how these sims are related to the existing ones. Please let me know if I messed up any of the trans stuff in here, this is mainly written based on having talked to other people about their experiences, rather than based on my own personal experiences.
Margery Thomas had always been different.
She’d been named for her grandmother, or so Dad J had always told her, his mother whose name had been Margaret, whose headstone adorned the garden between rows of flowers and bushes. Margery had never known her; she was just a woman who appeared in grainy photographs next to an equally unknown grandfather. The name felt the same way, like she was looking at it through a thin film of age, like it was just another one of the ill-fitted hand-me-downs she’d inherited from her older sisters. Neither of them had been named after grandmothers, even though there were two others to choose from.
She’d rejected the hand-me-downs that she could; she didn’t want Rebecca’s old skirts or Julia’s tight jeans with flowers stitched in the corners and no pockets. Sometimes she’d trade Brent a homework assignment or a white lie to their parents in exchange for a good pair of boys’ jeans with real pockets, though. So many of her siblings were too old for her to relate to, but Brent was only a little older, and often her biggest ally in the house.
She borrowed things from Scott sometimes, too. Scott was her best friend, always had been for as long as she could remember. He had one mother and one father and a traditional little nuclear family just like most people did, but everyone tended to assume he didn’t, and that he’d been brought into this world by some strange alien genetic experiment; his skin was too green, and his eyes were a bit too large. He’d told her later that his father had been born that way, and when she’d been introduced, she’d seen that not only were his eyes shaped like Scott’s, but that there seemed to be only blackness where there ought to be an iris and a sclera. But Scott’s dad was so nice that you quickly forgot about all of that. The same kids that had rejected Scott for his looks had also rejected Margery for having three (perfectly human-looking) parents, and they had bonded over it, so long ago.
As she grew older, she started to take more notice of boys, and she watched Scott take more notice of them, too. Her desires started to blur together in her mind, and she couldn’t puzzle it out. Did she want to be them, or be with them? Her chest began to grow unwieldy, and she stopped being able to wear the shirts Brent gave her, not without binding it down to a more reasonable size. But she knew she wasn’t just doing it because of the shirts. She hated that with every day that passed, her body looked more and more different than Brent’s and Scott’s. For all of his strange looks, she often felt that Scott was the normal one and she was the alien.
Most of the boys would have liked her chest as it was, she knew; they talked constantly about girls’ chests. But the idea of any of them, even the attractive ones, touching hers sent revulsion through her. Scott didn’t care; Scott didn’t care about any girls’ bodies, he was watching the boys along with her, and they talked to each other about which ones were the hottest, and shared that, too. But she had no one to talk to about how Scott was better than all of them. He didn’t care about her chest, or her short hair, and he didn’t want her to be a girl for him. Deep down, she knew that it wouldn’t work; because she was a girl after all, wasn’t she? And he didn’t want one.
It was one day, when they were lazing on the couch together at his house, watching TV, that she first leaned her head over onto his shoulder, on impulse, and then planted a kiss on his neck, also on impulse. She expected to be pushed away and rejected by the one person she couldn’t stand to be rejected by, but unexpectedly, he’d leaned in closer into her, and returned her kiss into her hair.
She looked up at him, blinking a bit in confusion. “But you don’t like girls,” she said.
He looked back at her, and some inner confusion creased his brow. “I don’t,” he agreed, “but I don’t know. You’re different. And I like you.”
Then she’d melted into him, and they’d stayed there for a while longer, even after the good shows had ended and the mediocre ones had come on, and they hadn’t spoken again, not with words; only with the ways their bodies touched each other.
It wasn’t enough, though. Things were great when she was with Scott, but then she would go home, and the clothes she wanted to wear still fit badly, and her chest still hurt after she’d bound it, and it still wasn’t flat enough, and everything seemed unbearable.
One day, she came up with a plan. There was a new shop in town, a witchcrafting shop, and everyone said that the woman who ran it was a real witch, who could do real magic, and would turn you into a toad if you tried to steal anything. Turning a girl into a boy should be easier than turning a person into a toad, right? So she went to pay the shop a visit.
The first floor of the building was just a regular coffee shop, with people sitting around and chatting, and barista asking if she wanted a latte. But on the back wall of the coffee shop, there was a large sign in medieval lettering that said WITCHERY SHOPPE with an arrow pointing upwards to the top of a winding spiral staircase. She ascended carefully; the steps were very narrow.
At the top of the stairs was an entirely different space. Ethereal lamps stood against the wall, or hung from the ceiling, casting light that didn’t seem quite like any electric light she’d seen before, and even the white arms and stands that supported the strange lights seemed to glow in some way. Mystical-seeming sculptures lined some shelves, while others contained books on the occult. On a small table sat a large crystal ball, with a sign overhead proclaiming: SEE THE FACE OF YOUR TRUE LOVE FOR ONLY $60!
Some customers were moving among the shelves or examining the lamps, but Margery’s attention was drawn to the woman in the sparkly white dress that had a similar glowing effect to the lamp stands. She was neatening up some of the books. Cautiously, Margery approached.
“Are you Mrs. Ramirez?” she asked. “The witch?”
The woman finished her task and turned to face Margery. “I am,” she said. “Is there something in particular you’re looking for?”
“They say you can turn people into toads,” said Margery, worrying as she said it that this might be offensive. “Can you turn me into a boy?”
The witch looked at her with some surprise, but then her eyes rose to look at the ceiling, unfocused, as she sat engrossed in some thought. She smiled, and some excitement lit in her eyes as she turned them back to Margery and said, “Oh, I think I can, actually. Follow me.”
She led Margery through a door behind the register counter that said PROPRIETRESS ONLY. It was a small room on the other side, dominated by a large metal cauldron with a long wooden spoon resting in it, and an ornate white chair, almost a throne. Margery was sure that the chair was glowing this time, and some glowing white mist seemed to rise off of it like smoke.
On the walls of the room were more shelves, this time filled with bottles and flasks. Mrs. Ramirez selected a number of them, sat in the chair, and began adding their contents to the cauldron. Then she reached underneath it and did something to fire the burner. There must have been a switch that Margery couldn’t see, but from where she was standing, it really did look like the witch had produced fire from her fingers.
Mrs. Ramirez stirred the cauldron a bit with the spoon, examined the contents critically, and then added a few more ingredients, but at length she seemed to be satisfied. She retrieved an empty flask from a shelf, and spooned the glowing blue liquid into it until it was full.
She handed the new flask to Margery. “I think that should work. Come back if it doesn’t.”
“How much is it?” Margery asked.
Mrs. Ramirez shook her head. “That one is free. I’m here to make money off of the people who want esoteric knick-knacks for their coffee tables, not those who are actually in need.”
Margery flashed her a grateful smile, and headed down the stairs with her prize.
Back at home with the bottle, she felt a thrill of excitement. Maybe it would be the solution to all of her problems. Or maybe it would turn her into a toad. But would that really be much worse?
She opened it, and drank the whole contents without hesitation. The liquid felt cool and tingly as it went down her throat. At first, nothing seemed to happen, but then she felt a shift in her body, subtle at first, but growing in intensity. Her chest shrank in one direction, the pressure from where she’d bound it easing until it was gone, while her shoulders widened; hips that had been a slightly wrong shape for jeans borrowed from Brent reshaped themselves into something more workable. She felt that she was getting taller, too, just a bit. Subtle things seemed to change about her face, but she could not feel what they were with her hands.
She brought up a mirror to see, and— a boy’s face looked back at her. No; it was her face— it was his face, and he saw then that what he’d always hoped to see but had never actually dared believe was true: he had never been a girl who wanted to be a boy. He’d always been a boy, just stuck with the wrong face and the wrong body and the wrong name. The face in the mirror wasn’t a guise or a mask — it was his true face, that’d he’d always worn under the crude disguise that had been Margery.
What should his name be now? Even his parents should agree that he would need a new one. If he had to be named after a family member, he thought he’d prefer a name that reminded him of Brent, who’d always been on his side. He mulled it over in his mind.
He wanted to talk to Scott. Suddenly, that was the only thing that mattered. He darted down the stairs, outside, and down the street to where Scott’s house was.
Scott was out front, pushing his little sister on a swing, but he quickly came over when the boy who’d once been called Margery called out to him. He looked at him, at first in confusion, but then recognition dawned. He raised his hand and brought it to the new boy’s cheek. “Margery?” he asked.
“No,” said the boy in front of him, smiling a bigger smile that he could remember smiling in the past few years. “My name is Grant, now.”
They embraced, and kissed there in front of Scott’s house. Later, Grant knew, he’d have to introduce himself to his family all over again, but for now, he just wanted to stay here, in Scott’s arms.
Gesso Notes
Crystal Ball: The crystal ball is actually a mod that shows you a list of the sims with the highest chemistry with your sim in the neighborhood, and can also be used to teleport them directly to the lot, which is useful for sims who have terrible chemistry with everyone. This was actually how I had Stephen's dad meet Michael's mom, a very long time ago.
Witch cauldron: Witches get a cauldron that they can use to make objects, including a variety of potions, reagents, and also the special lamps that are described here. The gender transition mod I made for this was made as potions that could be bought regularly, but by modifying a different mod, I made it possible for them to be created by witches in their cauldrons, and this is how they become available in my neighborhood, now.
Sim Notes
Grant Thomas is born-in-game sim. This is his adult portrait:
He is the sixth of seven kids born to EA premade sim Sam Thomas and her two husbands, who were both born-in-game sims. "Dad J" who's mentioned in this piece is actually the twin brother of Theo's dad, and Grant's other dad is Alex and Simon Upsnott's much older brother. Some other members of this family will show up in later stories. He was the first trans sim in my neighborhood, so he actually got to test-drive the mod I made to make that possible.
Scott Hanby is a born-in-game sim. This is his adult portrait:
He is the first child of Robert's first cousin, who himself was the eldest alien child of Robert's uncle who runs the gay bar. He is the second-oldest member of the generation after Michael, Robert and Stephen (Grant technically belongs to this earlier generation, though he's much younger than them). His mother is the premade maid NPC Lucy Hanby. Some other members of his family will also be in future stories - there are actually a lot of connections between Grant's family and Scott's family that are going to show up here.
Story: Tales From the Neighborhood
Plot Thread: Grant/Scott/William
Colors: Warm Heart #5: Need
Styles and Supplies: Life Drawing, Silhouette, Gesso
Word Count: 1923
Rating: PG
Warnings: Deadnaming and misgendering of a trans character from their own POV, because they don't really figure themselves out until the end of this piece (their real name is a spoiler until the end of this one, hence the grey bar in the plot thread name and the character list)
Characters: Grant Thomas/Scott Hanby, Bethany Ramirez
Summary: Margery Thomas had always been different.
Notes: New plot thread, about a different part of the neighborhood. See the sim notes for how these sims are related to the existing ones. Please let me know if I messed up any of the trans stuff in here, this is mainly written based on having talked to other people about their experiences, rather than based on my own personal experiences.
Margery Thomas had always been different.
She’d been named for her grandmother, or so Dad J had always told her, his mother whose name had been Margaret, whose headstone adorned the garden between rows of flowers and bushes. Margery had never known her; she was just a woman who appeared in grainy photographs next to an equally unknown grandfather. The name felt the same way, like she was looking at it through a thin film of age, like it was just another one of the ill-fitted hand-me-downs she’d inherited from her older sisters. Neither of them had been named after grandmothers, even though there were two others to choose from.
She’d rejected the hand-me-downs that she could; she didn’t want Rebecca’s old skirts or Julia’s tight jeans with flowers stitched in the corners and no pockets. Sometimes she’d trade Brent a homework assignment or a white lie to their parents in exchange for a good pair of boys’ jeans with real pockets, though. So many of her siblings were too old for her to relate to, but Brent was only a little older, and often her biggest ally in the house.
She borrowed things from Scott sometimes, too. Scott was her best friend, always had been for as long as she could remember. He had one mother and one father and a traditional little nuclear family just like most people did, but everyone tended to assume he didn’t, and that he’d been brought into this world by some strange alien genetic experiment; his skin was too green, and his eyes were a bit too large. He’d told her later that his father had been born that way, and when she’d been introduced, she’d seen that not only were his eyes shaped like Scott’s, but that there seemed to be only blackness where there ought to be an iris and a sclera. But Scott’s dad was so nice that you quickly forgot about all of that. The same kids that had rejected Scott for his looks had also rejected Margery for having three (perfectly human-looking) parents, and they had bonded over it, so long ago.
As she grew older, she started to take more notice of boys, and she watched Scott take more notice of them, too. Her desires started to blur together in her mind, and she couldn’t puzzle it out. Did she want to be them, or be with them? Her chest began to grow unwieldy, and she stopped being able to wear the shirts Brent gave her, not without binding it down to a more reasonable size. But she knew she wasn’t just doing it because of the shirts. She hated that with every day that passed, her body looked more and more different than Brent’s and Scott’s. For all of his strange looks, she often felt that Scott was the normal one and she was the alien.
Most of the boys would have liked her chest as it was, she knew; they talked constantly about girls’ chests. But the idea of any of them, even the attractive ones, touching hers sent revulsion through her. Scott didn’t care; Scott didn’t care about any girls’ bodies, he was watching the boys along with her, and they talked to each other about which ones were the hottest, and shared that, too. But she had no one to talk to about how Scott was better than all of them. He didn’t care about her chest, or her short hair, and he didn’t want her to be a girl for him. Deep down, she knew that it wouldn’t work; because she was a girl after all, wasn’t she? And he didn’t want one.
It was one day, when they were lazing on the couch together at his house, watching TV, that she first leaned her head over onto his shoulder, on impulse, and then planted a kiss on his neck, also on impulse. She expected to be pushed away and rejected by the one person she couldn’t stand to be rejected by, but unexpectedly, he’d leaned in closer into her, and returned her kiss into her hair.
She looked up at him, blinking a bit in confusion. “But you don’t like girls,” she said.
He looked back at her, and some inner confusion creased his brow. “I don’t,” he agreed, “but I don’t know. You’re different. And I like you.”
Then she’d melted into him, and they’d stayed there for a while longer, even after the good shows had ended and the mediocre ones had come on, and they hadn’t spoken again, not with words; only with the ways their bodies touched each other.
It wasn’t enough, though. Things were great when she was with Scott, but then she would go home, and the clothes she wanted to wear still fit badly, and her chest still hurt after she’d bound it, and it still wasn’t flat enough, and everything seemed unbearable.
One day, she came up with a plan. There was a new shop in town, a witchcrafting shop, and everyone said that the woman who ran it was a real witch, who could do real magic, and would turn you into a toad if you tried to steal anything. Turning a girl into a boy should be easier than turning a person into a toad, right? So she went to pay the shop a visit.
The first floor of the building was just a regular coffee shop, with people sitting around and chatting, and barista asking if she wanted a latte. But on the back wall of the coffee shop, there was a large sign in medieval lettering that said WITCHERY SHOPPE with an arrow pointing upwards to the top of a winding spiral staircase. She ascended carefully; the steps were very narrow.
At the top of the stairs was an entirely different space. Ethereal lamps stood against the wall, or hung from the ceiling, casting light that didn’t seem quite like any electric light she’d seen before, and even the white arms and stands that supported the strange lights seemed to glow in some way. Mystical-seeming sculptures lined some shelves, while others contained books on the occult. On a small table sat a large crystal ball, with a sign overhead proclaiming: SEE THE FACE OF YOUR TRUE LOVE FOR ONLY $60!
Some customers were moving among the shelves or examining the lamps, but Margery’s attention was drawn to the woman in the sparkly white dress that had a similar glowing effect to the lamp stands. She was neatening up some of the books. Cautiously, Margery approached.
“Are you Mrs. Ramirez?” she asked. “The witch?”
The woman finished her task and turned to face Margery. “I am,” she said. “Is there something in particular you’re looking for?”
“They say you can turn people into toads,” said Margery, worrying as she said it that this might be offensive. “Can you turn me into a boy?”
The witch looked at her with some surprise, but then her eyes rose to look at the ceiling, unfocused, as she sat engrossed in some thought. She smiled, and some excitement lit in her eyes as she turned them back to Margery and said, “Oh, I think I can, actually. Follow me.”
She led Margery through a door behind the register counter that said PROPRIETRESS ONLY. It was a small room on the other side, dominated by a large metal cauldron with a long wooden spoon resting in it, and an ornate white chair, almost a throne. Margery was sure that the chair was glowing this time, and some glowing white mist seemed to rise off of it like smoke.
On the walls of the room were more shelves, this time filled with bottles and flasks. Mrs. Ramirez selected a number of them, sat in the chair, and began adding their contents to the cauldron. Then she reached underneath it and did something to fire the burner. There must have been a switch that Margery couldn’t see, but from where she was standing, it really did look like the witch had produced fire from her fingers.
Mrs. Ramirez stirred the cauldron a bit with the spoon, examined the contents critically, and then added a few more ingredients, but at length she seemed to be satisfied. She retrieved an empty flask from a shelf, and spooned the glowing blue liquid into it until it was full.
She handed the new flask to Margery. “I think that should work. Come back if it doesn’t.”
“How much is it?” Margery asked.
Mrs. Ramirez shook her head. “That one is free. I’m here to make money off of the people who want esoteric knick-knacks for their coffee tables, not those who are actually in need.”
Margery flashed her a grateful smile, and headed down the stairs with her prize.
Back at home with the bottle, she felt a thrill of excitement. Maybe it would be the solution to all of her problems. Or maybe it would turn her into a toad. But would that really be much worse?
She opened it, and drank the whole contents without hesitation. The liquid felt cool and tingly as it went down her throat. At first, nothing seemed to happen, but then she felt a shift in her body, subtle at first, but growing in intensity. Her chest shrank in one direction, the pressure from where she’d bound it easing until it was gone, while her shoulders widened; hips that had been a slightly wrong shape for jeans borrowed from Brent reshaped themselves into something more workable. She felt that she was getting taller, too, just a bit. Subtle things seemed to change about her face, but she could not feel what they were with her hands.
She brought up a mirror to see, and— a boy’s face looked back at her. No; it was her face— it was his face, and he saw then that what he’d always hoped to see but had never actually dared believe was true: he had never been a girl who wanted to be a boy. He’d always been a boy, just stuck with the wrong face and the wrong body and the wrong name. The face in the mirror wasn’t a guise or a mask — it was his true face, that’d he’d always worn under the crude disguise that had been Margery.
What should his name be now? Even his parents should agree that he would need a new one. If he had to be named after a family member, he thought he’d prefer a name that reminded him of Brent, who’d always been on his side. He mulled it over in his mind.
He wanted to talk to Scott. Suddenly, that was the only thing that mattered. He darted down the stairs, outside, and down the street to where Scott’s house was.
Scott was out front, pushing his little sister on a swing, but he quickly came over when the boy who’d once been called Margery called out to him. He looked at him, at first in confusion, but then recognition dawned. He raised his hand and brought it to the new boy’s cheek. “Margery?” he asked.
“No,” said the boy in front of him, smiling a bigger smile that he could remember smiling in the past few years. “My name is Grant, now.”
They embraced, and kissed there in front of Scott’s house. Later, Grant knew, he’d have to introduce himself to his family all over again, but for now, he just wanted to stay here, in Scott’s arms.
Gesso Notes
Crystal Ball: The crystal ball is actually a mod that shows you a list of the sims with the highest chemistry with your sim in the neighborhood, and can also be used to teleport them directly to the lot, which is useful for sims who have terrible chemistry with everyone. This was actually how I had Stephen's dad meet Michael's mom, a very long time ago.
Witch cauldron: Witches get a cauldron that they can use to make objects, including a variety of potions, reagents, and also the special lamps that are described here. The gender transition mod I made for this was made as potions that could be bought regularly, but by modifying a different mod, I made it possible for them to be created by witches in their cauldrons, and this is how they become available in my neighborhood, now.
Sim Notes
Grant Thomas is born-in-game sim. This is his adult portrait:
He is the sixth of seven kids born to EA premade sim Sam Thomas and her two husbands, who were both born-in-game sims. "Dad J" who's mentioned in this piece is actually the twin brother of Theo's dad, and Grant's other dad is Alex and Simon Upsnott's much older brother. Some other members of this family will show up in later stories. He was the first trans sim in my neighborhood, so he actually got to test-drive the mod I made to make that possible.
Scott Hanby is a born-in-game sim. This is his adult portrait:
He is the first child of Robert's first cousin, who himself was the eldest alien child of Robert's uncle who runs the gay bar. He is the second-oldest member of the generation after Michael, Robert and Stephen (Grant technically belongs to this earlier generation, though he's much younger than them). His mother is the premade maid NPC Lucy Hanby. Some other members of his family will also be in future stories - there are actually a lot of connections between Grant's family and Scott's family that are going to show up here.