Taylor Marinov
Portrayed By Anrej Pejic
Gender ??
Date of Birth November 4, 1996
Age 15
Zodiac Sign Scorpio
Aliases None
Place of Birth Seattle
Current Location Xavier's
Occupation Student
Known Relatives Mother and Father, Rebecca and Alex Marinov
Significant Other Timothy Glass (sort of)
Identity Private
Known Abilities Feral
First Appearance ???



November 4, 2011
Dear fucking diary,
I can’t believe I have to write in this thing. This isn’t even going to work as a diary, since you’re reading it, and as much as this is ‘confidential’ between you and me or whatever, you’re still reading it. You’ll have to explain to me at our next session how that’s supposed to work. Anger management, what a joke. You’d be angry too. I don’t know what people expect me to do, just smile in the face of total bullshit? That bastard comes up to me, calls me ‘faggot’ and shoves me, and expects not to punch him in his snot nosed little face?
I guess in this entry I’m supposed to talk about my family history and stuff. Well, I was born, I screamed, and my parents tolerated the screaming until I grew up and went to school. Family history over. Entry done.

November 11, 2011
I guess I’m supposed to take this ridiculous exercise seriously or else I get in more trouble. That’s dumb, because this is dumb, so history.
On November 4th 1996 in some hospital in Seattle a miracle occurred: I graced the world with my presence. My mom, maiden name Rebecca Stewart, shoved a six pound baby out of her crotch while my dad, Alex Marinov looked on completely stupefied. The doctor declared, ‘The baby is a… wait.’ It really wasn’t obvious what the baby was. Because that baby had partial androgen insensitivity syndrome. And the doctor was like, ‘We have to make this baby into a boy or a girl’. Because that’s how they do things, I guess. They only have an ‘M’ button and an ‘F’ button and there is no other buttons to press. They pressed the ‘F’ button for putting on the birth certificate, but my parents refused the surgical intervention that the doctors almost insisted on to make my life ‘normal’. My parents are both progressives, and had some idea how those kinds of surgeries can ruin someone’s life. They raised me pretty gender neutral, figuring that eventually I could choose for myself whether to press the ‘M’ or the ‘F’ button. Cause like I said, those are the only fucking buttons. My dad stayed at home to raise me, while mom went to work as the district manager for Staples.
They’re good parents, and they were growing up, I’m not complaining. I remember that I’d usually get whatever I wanted for my birthday, probably because I didn’t have any siblings to play with so I needed my toys so that I would shut up for awhile. I liked dolls for the most part, whether actually dolls or like GI Joe action figures, whatever. So long as I could make them live out their soap opera lives, I didn’t care about the cast I was given. Eventually, I got into making outfits for my dolls when I got older. Most kids didn’t really associate with me, mostly because the boys thought I was a girl and the girls thought I was a boy, and each group thought I was therefore gross. That was fine. I started my own club, I was the only member, and I enjoyed the company. I did okay in school, didn’t really get in very much trouble. My grades were pretty average, Bs mostly, some Cs. I usually got an A in my chemistry classes. I was always distracted by my hobbies, the dolls and the video games, too distracted to do anything but middling. You don’t need to excel to get by. My parents always talk to me about this, like building my social life and my academics, but you know, I’m going to graduate, so whatever.
Around the time where girls notice boys and boys notice girls (aside from the gay ones, but we’re too ashamed to talk about that shit) my doctors decided that I should take puberty blockers. Which I happily agreed to. I mean, it’s weird enough being in between genders without throwing puberty into the mix, you know? And it’s not like I’ve chosen what to do yet… My parents were happy to oblige me this, they knew what an angsty thing I could be if I put my mind to it. They pretty much support me no matter what.
I don’t know what else to say on the matter.

November 18, 2011
Wow, look a diary.
So I guess I’m supposed to write more about how I’m feeling isolated? I guess this thing is a substitution for talking to me for more than half an hour. Frig. And I’m not feeling isolated. Sure, when I was younger, like I wrote before… I didn’t really have many friends, but I’m okay with spending time alone. And it’s not like I don’t have any friends at all. When I was thirteen, after starting the hormone blockers, there was a boy named Timothy… he had a crush on me, that’s why he spent so much time with me, even though most of the others wouldn’t.
He’s a nice guy, kind of cute. I’m still surprised that he’d want to be with someone like me. I mean, we’re not officially dating or anything I don’t think, but I’d say we’re probably a thing. That’s what started this whole anger management bullshit, actually. I mean, someone saw me give him a kiss. It was just a peck, really, nothing too racy, so don’t report me for any kind of stupid school rules. Anyways, that someone decided to catch up with Timmy later, gave him a black eye for his faggotry. Not that anyone went and checked my birth certificate with that little ‘F’ marker. Legally, this shit is pretty straight. Even if I don’t feel like I need to actually decide what applies to me best. Anyways, nobody fucks with my guy. I took that asshole and told him to back off, he called me a faggot, I punched him. And punched and punched and punched. People didn’t see that coming. The guy deserved it, and he hasn’t bothered me or Tim again yet, which is pretty much the goal. So yeah, I do have someone I care about at least. I’m not a complete lone wolf. You were probably worried I was some crazy loner who was going to bring a rifle to school and start shooting, right? I’m not crazy. But I’m not going to just sit back and take that crap from anyone.

November 25, 2011
Writing in my anger management diary? On a Friday? Unheard of.
Nothing makes me angrier than writing this anger management journal. That’s all I have to say on the matter.

December 2, 2011
Dear lovely diary,
I am so happy today, oh what a lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely day. The lovely Timster and I had a lovely time in the lovely halls of our lovely school yesterday. A couple of our lovely friends showed us their lovely fists, and I just took it like the lovely little dear I am. See how happy a person I am and no longer in need of our lovely sessions? It was lovely seeing my friend get beat up to boot.
These lovely sessions don’t need to continue. I’ve learned my lesson to just have the lovely shit kicked out of me and not defending my lovely friends.
See how much I said lovely? That means I’m fucking well adjusted.

December 9, 2011
Screw this diary.
Screw you, too. This school is doing nothing if I don’t do anything about it. This is insane. I get in trouble if I do anything about unpleasant situations, like I always have before. This isn’t about counting backwards from ten. This has gone on all week. I don’t need to hear that I’m bringing it on myself with my attitude. Look, I’m not even swearing in your stupid loser diary, and you’re still not going to do anything. What am I supposed to do? I got in trouble for taking it into my own hands in the first place. But I’ve had it up to the brim of what I can handle.

December 16, 2011
Oh God.
I know we’re going to have so much to talk about on our next session after the Christmas break. This isn’t about anger management, you’ve heard what they did to Timothy. I didn’t know what to do. They just slammed his head against his locker over and over, and they were holding me down, there’s nothing I could do about it. He just started bleeding and he stopped resisting after awhile, he just stopped moving…
He stopped moving, that’s when I snapped. I don’t know what came over me. I’m fucking terrified still now. I just threw the guy who was on me, and before I even knew it, I dropped the other guys. It was like I knew exactly what to do, I could smell their fear, the ones who were left watching for teachers, before they ran away. What happened? What the fuck is going on?
Oh God. I hope Tim is okay.

December 17, 2011
Hello diary,
I don’t know why I’m writing in this thing right now, outside of the assigned time. I think it’s because I’m freaking out here. Everything is so bright. I’ve turned off all the lights, and it’s so bright in here, I think I’m sick. I’m worried sick about Timothy, he’s in the hospital, I guess he hasn’t woken up. I didn’t act fast enough. It’s my fault that he’s in there.
Are the hormone blockers working? I think I’m growing a beard. Fuck.

December 18, 2011
Dear diary,
I just need something to write on to distract me from the pain. I think I’m really sick. I’ve definitely got a body hair situation going on here. Timothy still hasn’t woken up. I feel an ache all over my body, from my face to my toes, I just want to die. I hope someone will just kill me. Maybe I can visit Tim in the hospital, we could get a room together.
I feel like my bones are going to explode.

Dec 192011
timothy is not doing well I am here with him I just h/ve to keep focusing on writing and writing nothing they are giving me is working they are working on f/guring out what the problem is I just need to focus on writing and writing and writing som__/ shit my hand slipped oh god my hand what is go

December 22, 2011
I’m a mutant. What the fuck is wrong with my genes? I’m a mutant and I’m not one of the normal ones. I’m a freaky one. I don’t even recognize myself in the mirror. Tim is still in a coma, doesn’t look good… I doubt he’d have that crush on me now. I’m fuzzy like a cat. I look like a cat thingy. I don’t look human at all. I’m not a boy or a girl or a human or anything. They’re keeping me for observation, to make sure there are not still any changes in progress. At least the pain has stopped.

December 23, 2011
Dear diary,
Tim woke up. And then went back under when he saw me. He needs time to think about it. No sweat. I’d need time too. And he just got up from a coma. No brain damage. Just glad he’s okay… My parents seem scared of me… It’s weird, I’ve never felt this lonely. Nobody wants to visit. I’m so tired, the specialist says it’s normal after such an extensive change to feel so tired. She’s trying to convince me to accept this is forever, but there must be a way to look like me again… I need a cat nap. Hardy fucking har.

December 24, 2011
Dear diary,
The specialist brought in some people from a boarding school, says they can help. My parents seem happy to hand me over to the experts. I talked to Timothy, he said we should break things off. I told him he knows how to reach me if he changes his mind. He probably won’t. I hope he does. I was lucky enough he’d like me before… I’d need to win the lottery to find someone now. I’m going to go with these people. I can’t go back to school like this.
Merry fucking Christmas.


  • What's happened since you've been approved?


  • "I said it!"


  • Amazing thing!
  • Amazing thing!
  • Amazing thing!
  • Amazing thing!


Sorry, no images found attached to this page.
Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License