#(ratchet is a trans man and drift is genderqueer/fluid)

[inktheblot]

Tagged by @novantinuum to share a WIP chunk and then tag some fellow writers!!

It was a risk. It was a vulnerability. It could be a deadly, deadly mistake. This Ratchet knew, this he had ran over and over in his head every one of those nights, and all the long shifts and cozy breakfasts and M*A*S*H reruns in between.

Yet he also knew, all too well, that the last mistake he had made on such a scale was letting his stubborn pride and unspoken fears keep him from speaking what he could no longer deny was deepest truth. This individual, this rare, haunting soul — frustrating terrifying beautiful enigmatic impossible perfect — had snuck into his every inch so suddenly and so fully, and hadn’t known it, hadn’t known all that belonged to xem, all that xe deserved, the depth of the love that Ratchet had no longer believed himself capable of giving to anyone —

It had nearly cost them both everything, and the bloodstained memory shook him even now … but now, if nothing else, that was a mistake he could keep from repeating.

And that was how he came to be here, after months of deliberation, months of paying careful attention to idle talk of moon phases and astrological alignments, months of rolling a band of gold and pressed leaves around and around his practiced hands (and hiding it away again in a different nook or cranny every time he realized he was accomplishing nothing with his fidgeting, for it was sure to be discovered otherwise).

Come on, Ratchet, get it together, goddamnit! He had come inside to collect himself, under the pretense of fetching their leftovers from the previous night, but a couple of zaps in the microwave didn’t take — what, going on ten minutes? Twelve? By now he was sure to be met with some kind of sassing when he returned to his seat on the porch, if not a direct question he, if so cornered, wouldn’t have the strength to answer.

You’re a surgeon! You’ve seen so much awful, messed up shit — you’ve seen the end of the world, for Chrissakes! Kicked its ass, even! And you can’t handle this? Get a fucking grip! This is nothing!

But it wasn’t nothing, and to claim as much would be a dreadful disservice to his beloved, to all that had led them here, and to the future he hoped was waiting. This he knew, and to this he committed, as he took a breath, scooped up both half-full Tupperware, and heaved the back door open.

Tagging, if you’ve got something you’re working on and you feel up to sharing: @lazysighs @stuffbyshelby @keitheaverage @nour386 @howtotrainyournana @ceslatoil​ @korloniumcrystals @crapitalismammirite and anybody else who wants to!