#I will be unwell about this for the next one thousand years

[daincrediblegg]

so seriously I think sam reid has more talent in his pinky than the entire cast of succession combined and if no awards recognize this I will actually burn hollywood to the ground and that is a promise <3

[deus-ex-mona]

series i’m gatekeeping from my family vs series i’m ✨ok✨ with my family knowing i’m into:

[makethatelevenrings]

Rest // D. Grayson x gn!reader

Requested? Yes!

Warnings: illness, mentions of child assassins, not Titans!verse I just think Brenton is pretty

Summary: You’re feeling sick but refuse to admit you are. Damian intervenes and makes sure Dick is aware of the problem.

This is apart of Assassin!verse that you can read here

You had been shot, stabbed, poisoned, thrown through windows, and broken numerous bones, but for some reason, this sore throat was going to be the end of you. When you woke up that morning, it started as a simple scratchy throat that had bloomed into some demonic rash of pain that coated your throat and made every swallow feel like knives scraping against your skin.

“You are unwell,” Damian observed. You ignored him in favor of jabbing the small needle through the taut fabric and tugging it down. Cass had recommended embroidery as a hobby you should try out and you found that it was soothing, fun, and an outlet for you. After spending years surrounded by silence and met with anger if you spoke out of turn, sometimes you needed to retreat from the constant noise of the Wayne Manor.

While you had your apartment in Bludhaven, some problems in Gotham required the both of you, and Haley of course, to stay at the Manor for a few days.

Where two of the family members attended school and the others interacted with the public every single day.

So, of course, you got sick.

You stabbed the point into the fabric once more and pulled it taut. You hoped that Tim would like the screaming possum design you were making for him. He loved sending you those memes and delighted in the fact that he gets to teach you about memes and pop culture.

“I’m fine.” You internally winced at how rough your voice sounded. Nothing screamed “picture of health” more than sounding like you were choking on gravel. Your head pounded, the ache radiating at your temples and along the sides, and your nose felt like cotton was shoved up there. All in all, you felt miserable. All you wanted to do was go back to the queen sized mattress shoved in Dick’s old bedroom and sleep for a thousand years.

But Dick, Bruce, and Tim were all making appearances at a gala to collect intel and you needed to stay awake so you could assist if something happened. What if the gala was under attack? Or what if they needed a quick getaway? Or what if-

The couch dipped as Damian crawled onto the cushion next to you. He settled in comfortably, Alfred the cat resting comfortably in his arms, and blinked up at you with those wide eyes of his. You set your embroidery down and gave him your full attention.

While Dick was your closest friend, companion, and lover, Damian understood you better than anyone aside from Cass. Damian knew what it was like to be trained from a young age. When Dick first brought you to Wayne Manor, bloodied and weak and still as fiercely on guard, Damian was the first person to gain your trust aside from Dick. And if this kid was your boyfriend’s brother, then dammit, he was your little brother too.

“When I first came to live with Father, he sat me down one day and told me that it is one thing to know when to be on guard and ready. But it’s another thing to live your life always on edge waiting for the next attack. Father helped me realize that I was living my life feeling like I was never safe made me sure that I would never be safe. He assured me that he and the family would never let anything happen to me.”

Your mind was cloudy with fatigue and fever, but you nodded slowly as you tried to grasp what he meant. “Okay…?”

Damian turned to face you fully, the little tuxedo cat in his lap snuggling in closer to his owner’s arms. “We would never let anything happen to you or to one another. You can rest.”

You swallowed painfully against your aching throat and offered him a tight smile. “Thank you, Dami. I’m fine.”

He huffed and climbed off the couch. “You’re not fine. I am telling Pennyworth.”

“Don’t!” The exclamation left you so quickly that he looked at you with more concern than before. “He’s busy right now. He doesn’t need to be bothered with a little sniffle. Please don’t tell him. I swear I’m fine.”

He stared at you, doubt written all over his face, and then sighed. “You are more stubborn than Richard. It’s a miracle the two of you get anything done.”

With that, Damian and Alfred the cat exited the room. Silence fell over the leather furniture and aging books once more. You inhaled deeply, fighting against the stabbing pain of your sinuses, and focused on your embroidery once more.

It wasn’t a half hour before the door to the library flew open. Dick strode in, impeccably dressed in a perfectly tailored tuxedo. Damian. That little rat.

“I’m fine!” you insisted. Damian peeked out from around the doorframe and you, the adult, stuck your tongue out at him. He merely smirked and disappeared, probably to go find his next victim.

“Richard, I am fine,” you snapped. He ignored your protests and laid the back of his hand against your cheek before doing the same to your forehead. You shuddered at the cool touch of his skin against yours and he immediately stepped back.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Dick demanded.

“Because I knew you would blow it out of proportion and make a big deal out of nothing,” you retorted.

“You’re burning up. And Damian said your lungs rattled a bit when you took a breath.”

“Damian’s a trained liar.”

“Stop with the bullshit!” His outburst caused you to pause. It really wasn’t that big of a deal. You had been in much worse condition than a little cold.

“I don’t understand what I did wrong,” you said quietly. Therapy with Dinah was helping you express your emotions, as she said. It helped in times like this. Dick’s face crumpled and then he pulled on the mask of assuredness that you were used to seeing. He crouched down so you were face to face rather than him towering over you.

“You don’t have to act like everything is fine, Buttercup. You’re allowed to let your guard down. You’re allowed to get sick.”

“But I can’t,” you blurted out. “If I’m sick and you or one of the others needs me-”

“We have legions of people that can help us,” he interrupted. Dick reached up to gently cup your cheek in the palm of his hand. “You are allowed to rest.”

“My head hurts,” you admitted.

He smiled that crooked grin of his and you shut your eyes, inhaling deeply. He stroked gentle lines across your face and of course he was still there once you opened your eyes once more.

“I’m tired.”

He stood, his hand falling from your cheek and entangling itself with your free hand. You set the embroidery down on the coffee table and stood. Before you could take one step, Dick swept you into his arms and started down the hall towards the bedrooms.

“You realize that I’m going to coddle you until you’re back to normal?”

You tightened your grip on his neck and grinned. “Can we watch Riverdale?”

“I’m going to throw Timmy off of a fucking roof for introducing you to that show.”

Tag List: @someoneimsure​ @perpetual-fangirl900​ @visagebrise​ @cursedandromedablack​ @alexxavicry​ @the-wayward-daughter​ @raging-trash-of-mind​ @bunny-kawa​ @khaylin27​

[coryothesub]

I became obsessed with Billie Eilish's "the diner" and now I couldn't stop thinking about what Coryo would be like as the stalker described in that piece of musical art.

Although it took me a million years to get around to writing this, I absolutely love this ask because it finally gave me the opportunity to explore a darker side of sub Coryo. I know the boy's unwell but I still love him sm, poor poor baby!!! Also the ending is a bit sad, but it's not as half as tragic as the initial version that I had planned for this story

nsfw / mdni / stalker!sub!coryo / dom!reader / toxic relationship / a bit of violence / nothing more I can think of

Your phone buzzed again and it made you jump a little. You had the late shift at the diner that you were working at so you had to stay after closing time to do some cleaning and deal with the accounting. 

You knew you could easily get fired for that but you had already had three shots from the vodka bottle and now you were about to take the fourth. It would be fine. You would replace the missing vodka with water and no one would notice. You really needed this after all. After finding out that he had been released from jail today. Would he actually obey the restraining order? The chance was slim to none.

You had met him right here, six months ago. 

“Coriolanus Snow,” he had introduced himself, flashing a big white teeth smile at you.

You would be lying if you said you didn't have a little crush on him when he started coming here. He was tall and handsome, always well dressed, his angelic face was neatly surrounded by his platinum blonde curls and those icy blue eyes, you felt like you could drown in them easily.

He started coming every day, and your coworkers had already nicknamed him “Coryo” on those occasions when they didn't call him your boyfriend. He was always charming and polite, he never overstepped your boundaries. Until he did…

You gave him your number yourself and then the messages started to arrive. Thousands of them. In his mind you two were in a relationship. You were his girlfriend, his fiancee, mother of his future children. He kept asking you about the wedding, had you already chosen the dress, what color it would be, what was your favorite flavor for the cake, whether you preferred a live band or a DJ.

“Coriolanus, this needs to stop!” one morning you hissed through your teeth while taking his breakfast order. He didn't seem to even hear you, he just kept talking about your beautiful life together and how you should stop working at the diner since he was able to provide for you.

You had told your boss numerous times that you couldn't work like this, and after many pleas he finally ordered the security guard not to let Coryo in despite the regular revenues he was bringing to the establishment.

Starting from that day he was just standing outside. Looking sad and confused, large tears running down his cheeks when he managed to catch your look through the window.

Then he was also standing outside your house. Your nearest grocery store. The bar you frequented with your friends. Until one day you found a vase full of fresh white roses. In your bedroom. There was no card, but you knew it was him. It happened again next week, and the week after that…

Why didn't you call the police? You did, numerous times, but the thing was that Coryo had never laid a finger on you. You couldn't prove that it was him who kept leaving the roses in your house. And standing on public land outside someone's property wasn't considered a crime.

The officers just brushed off your concerns and suggested you to change your number. But what about changing your workplace? And your home address? And even if you did all that, what if he found you anyways?

“How’s my queen doing today?” He approached you one day when you were getting inside your car after your shift.

“I just wanted to tell you that our wedding will happen on December 13. Since you didn't respond about the dress, I chose it and ordered it to be delivered to your house.”

“Coryo, please, just stop!” You lashed out at him, not being able to contain your emotions any more.

“We’re not in a relationship! We never have been! Just leave me alone!”

“I don't understand…” he looked puzzled and miserable. “But what about the wedding?”

“The wedding is canceled!” you decided to play along just as much as it would hopefully get to his deranged mind.

“No, wait, you have to explain…” for the first time ever he grabbed you by the hand, his blue eyes cold and filled with primal rage. Cold shivers ran down your spine. Could he actually be able to physically hurt you?

“Are you okay, Miss?” Some guy was just getting out of the car near you. “Is he bothering you?”

You felt too scared to even open your mouth and the stranger could probably sense the dread running through your every bone.

“Hey buddy, just let her go, okay?”

“Is this him?” Coryo yelled at you in jealous rage. “Is this the guy you’re sleeping around with? Is this the reason you're canceling the wedding?”

“Man you have clearly lost your marbles,” the helpful stranger tried to stand between you two. “Just go home and sleep off whatever you're on right now, okay?”

The next few moments were a total blur for you. The sound of a fight, screams, blood, someone calling the police. That poor guy ended up with a broken jaw. He pressed charges and Coryo was finally arrested.

You were still a bit salty that it didn't happen because of your complaints. But at least you got a restraining order. And he was out of your life. Or so you thought.

Earlier that day you had found out he’d got out on bail. Accompanied by an order to get a mandatory psychiatric treatment. But you suspected a psychiatrist wouldn't be the first person he’d look for.

After taking another shot you went to the toilet and messaged one of your friends asking to pick you up. It took all your willpower to ignore the countless messages from an unknown number until the last one came in. It was so short that you managed to see the whole text during the short moment while the notification popped up on your screen.

“I'm here, queen.”

Your heart dropped. What were you supposed to do? Call the police? But what if he was bluffing? What if “here” meant some other place? What if it wasn't even him? You had a new number, he probably did too, you had no proof unless you went out there to check.

You took a deep breath and opened the toilet door. The guest hall was empty and quiet. You couldn't see any people or vehicles outside in the parking lot. You let out a deep sigh of relief. And then you saw it. A single white rose laying on the counter.

Before your panic managed to kick in, you heard a familiar voice behind you. 

“You look so beautiful, my queen.”

You turned around and faced the man before you. Nothing much had changed, he had got a bit skinnier and apparently they had buzzed off his hair in jail. But his baby blue eyes had that same desperate glow.

“H-how did you get in?” You took a step back almost unknowingly.

“I let myself in through the kitchen door,” Coryo replied, he sounded chillingly calm. “My cellmate was a burglar and he taught me a thing or two about locks.”

He made a few steps closer to you and you could feel his hot, unsteady breath on your face. You just froze in place, afraid to even move.

“They let me out today, you know…”

“Yeah,” you replied in a nervous, high pitched tone, taking a quick look at your phone. “I figured that from the 453 messages you sent me today.”

The corner of Coryo's lip curled up in a small smile. 

“Yeah, it was quite a challenge to find out your new number, I had to pay someone and I spent every last dime I had left after paying that 250 000 dollar bail. But I memorized it right away, now I can reach from anywhere any time… I shouldn't have done that you know, but I just couldn't resist. I had to see you one last time.”

That last sentence hit you like a rock. One last time? What the hell did he mean by that? Did he have some insane murder suicide plot in his mind? You realized that you should have called the police when you had the chance, but now it was probably too late. He would just grab that phone right out of your hand.

“C-coryo?” You said, voice trembling. “Are you going to hurt me?”

His eyes widened at your question, making you fear that you had fetched him the idea even if it hadn't been on his mind before.

Suddenly he sank to his knees in front of you, hugging your leg with his cold, slender fingers. His grip wasn't too tight, but you were petrified nonetheless.

“I would never lay a finger on you, my queen,” he looked up at you, his blue eyes clear as day. He sounded so genuine that you felt a pang of embarrassment from your own suspicious thoughts. But could you really blame yourself? He was your stalker who was clearly breaking the law right now.

“What do you want then?” You asked quietly, looking down at the young man at your feet.

“I just want to tell you… I need you to know that now I understand. I know you didn't cancel the wedding because of that guy or anyone else. I know it was my own actions, my own devotion, which didn't let me give you enough space. I have nothing left. No money, no friends, no dignity. My love for you is all that I have…”

You heard his voice cracking and large tears were streaming down his face, falling on the floor beneath you. He looked so defeated, so miserable, so pathetic. It was incredibly sad. But also kinda arousing. You hated your own body for the thoughts that were currently running through your head, but it didn't seem like a taboo any more, it was almost like an act of charity…

“Shhh, Coryo…” you whispered, your hand gently caressing his buzzed head.

He swallowed thickly letting out a few more sobs and you felt his lips touching your knee. His touch was so soft and delicate, the warmth of his lips mixed with the cold tears still running down his face.

“Please,” he looked up at you again, his eyes red and glossy. “Please, I need you. I have completely destroyed myself by falling under your spell, but I still need you so badly…”

Your thumb traveled down his forehead, gently caressing his cheek and somehow you found yourself pushing it into his warm wet mouth, his eyes closing immediately and his lips suckling on your digit blissfully.

He was looking at you with a silent plea and you nodded quietly, giving him the long awaited approval.

Coryo let your thumb out of his mouth with a silent pop and started planting soft kisses above your knee. You let out a small gasp as his lips traveled up your thigh. It was no point denying how much you liked it, the wetness in your panties would eventually give you away.

His buzzed head dove under your uniform dress and you felt his warm soft lips on your inner thighs. Damn it, this felt too good.

Coryo tugged at the waistband of your panties, he seemed to be hesitating for a moment but the way you were pressing your thighs together not to give away your treacherous wetness seemed to convince him and he pulled your panties down slowly, revealing your wet cunt to his eyes.

You heard a soft gasp, the blonde boy sounded as if he had encountered something unspeakably wonderful just before his mouth attacked your pussy with insatiable hunger.

Your whole body shivered as he started planting wet kisses along your folds. Your wetness surely encouraged him and you felt his lips wrapping around your clit and sucking hungrily, while his tongue danced around your sensitive bud, causing a soft whimper to escape your lips.

“Oh Coryo,” you moaned his name, desperate for more sensation. “You”re good, so fucking good at this.”

He could hear a mix of surprise and sheer desire in your voice and it encouraged him to try even harder, sliding his tongue inside you and starting steady movements that simply drove you wild.

“Oh fuck, don't stop!” You moaned, grabbing his head instinctively and pushing him against your wet cunt, looking for a deeper contact. 

You looked down at his growing bulge, intrigued by how prominent it was. You’d always thought he must have been some creepy incel whose dick probably didn't work, but apparently everything was more than alright there.

Coryo kept tongue-fucking you, humming blissfully against your sensitive area, the soft vibrations sending you into sweet oblivion.

You were almost there, but it didn't feel right. You had already come this far and now you needed him all. You stepped back, making him whine at the loss of contact and tilted his chin up, pulling him back to his feet.

The boy looked simply delicious, desperately catching his breath, his face glistening with your juices. You grabbed his chin and looked deeply into his icy blue eyes.

“I need you to fuck me!”

Coryo was staring at you in disbelief, his brain clearly trying to process what you were asking. He was taken over by fear. Afraid to deceive that one person that he unconditionally adored.

“N-now?” He stuttered. “I don't know, I-I…”

“C’mon,” you gazed upon him with a shit eating grin, sitting back on one of the tables and opening your legs for him, putting your hungry little cunt on full display.

“I thought this was what you always dreamed of… Now don't be a little coward that throws it all away just when we've come so far huh…”

Coryo seemed to be waking up from his stupor, lustful glimmer filling his eyes as he glanced down upon you. It almost seemed like his baby blues had got a few tones darker while he was taking in the tempting sight.

He exhaled nervously and stepped closer to you, scrambling to undo his belt.

“C’mon, baby boy,” you leaned closer, grabbing at the outline of his rock hard cock and palming it through his jeans. “Mommy needs you so badly.”

He pulled out his dick, making you bite your lip at the sight. The boy was way above average, his cock was so long and handsome. Your pussy clenched around the empty nothingness from the sight alone.

Coryo lined himself at your entrance and slowly pushed himself in, watching your reaction carefully. You were almost touched by the caring expression on his face.

“Oh, Coryo, you're so big,” you moaned out, feeling his massive cock stretching you out.

“Are you comfortable?” The blonde man asked, securing your waist in a tight grip. 

“Uh-uh, just keep going!” You instructed, watching his face filling with amazement at how easily your impossibly wet cunt took his impressive length.

Coryo kept moving at a steady pace, watching you with sheer adoration. He couldn't believe that he was actually fucking you right now and it made you feel so damn good.

You enjoyed each and every of his thrusts, throwing your head back and letting out a series of small moans and whimpers.

“Faster!” You commanded breathlessly, pushing your hips towards his pelvis, desperate for more friction. Coryo's lips radiated a blissful smile as he kept watching you, his look wide-eyed and full of adoration.

He was now pounding you relentlessly enjoying the sounds you were making and the feeling of your tight wet walls clenching around him.

“Oh my goodness, such a good boy!” Your praises sounded like music to his ears as you rolled your eyes back feeling the velvety tip of his hard member hitting your sweet spot repeatedly.

Coryo groaned deeply lost in his own immense pleasure, lewd sounds you both were making filled the empty room.

“You're so perfect,” Coryo mumbled between moans and gasps, while you were meeting each and every of his thrusts eagerly, aching for your release.

“I love you,” he whispered, looking so damn genuine and vulnerable that you pulled him close instinctively, pressing your lips together in a passionate kiss.

He kissed you with pure hunger and despair, whispering ridiculous love confessions against your lips. Along with his relentless thrusts it brought you over the edge and you came all over his cock with a desperate moan, your cunt clenching around him.

It almost seemed like it was too much for him to take and he exploded in an earth shattering orgasm, filling your cunt with a load of hot cum. His eyes bursted into tears, his whole body was trembling in your arms.

You pulled him in a tight hug, pressing his head to your chest as you felt his movements slowing down gradually..

“I love you, I need you, fuck, this was so perfect,” Coryo’s fragile frame was shaking as he sobbed into your uniform dress, completely dazed by his own pleasure.

“It's alright baby,” you hummed. “I'm here, I'm holding you, it's okay.”

It took a good minute until he calmed down and wiped his nose with his hand. You watched him zip up his jeans as kept glancing over at you with a teary look. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but there was an eerie feeling lingering in the air.

“Thank you, my queen!” Coryo pressed another soft kiss to your lips. 

“I guess you're truly mine now,” a weird little smile crossed his face. 

You nodded faintly, starting to realize what you’d just gotten yourself into.

“And I'm always yours,” he said, caressing your cheek gently. You leaned into his touch, basking in his unconditional adoration.

Coryo took a few steps back, then walked over to the front door and let himself out. You watched him as he walked under the dim lights of the parking lot and then disappeared into the darkness.

You pulled your panties back up and grabbed your things, picking up the white rose from the counter almost instinctively and breathing in its alluring scent. You started to realize that you had probably just made the biggest mistake of your life. But for some reason it didn't feel wrong at all. 

You grabbed your keys and decided that you were gonna think this through tomorrow. Or at least after you’d receive an overjoyed text from Coryo.

But that text never arrived. You didn't hear from him again. And so did no one else in your town. Rumors started circulating after a while and you heard all kinds of stuff. That he had moved away. That he had taken his own life at a remote place and his body would never be found. Maybe he had found another object for his obsession. Or maybe he was finally happy somewhere far away, at least you hoped so.

You had no idea. But sometimes under the cover of darkness you opened your journal and looked at the single white rose that you had dried almost like a weird talisman. And then you couldn't help but think about that strange night at the diner. And about the young blonde man with icy blue eyes, secretly hoping that someday somehow you would see him again.

[best-type-moon-couple]

The Winner of the “Best Type-Moon Couple” Tournament is…

Gilgamesh and Enkidu (52% of the Vote)

[Congratulations for the Runner-ups, Mr. Sakamoto Ryouma and Mrs. Sakamoto Oryou, who came close with 48% of the Vote]

Thank you so much to the 502 people who voted in the final poll, as well as everyone else who participated/nominated/followed this tournament. I appreciate every single one of you and hope to see you next time I do something like this again. Until then, thanks for voting, see you whenever there’s a next time!

Letter from the Mod (Under the Cut):

Introduction:

So… uh… been a while since we talked like this, completely nervous, unprepared tournament mod to the hundreds of thousands of potential listeners and followers of the poll. Well, now that it’s over, I want to introduce myself.

Hi, you can call me Snow. I’ve been a Type-Moon fan for about a year now. I got into this series when my cousin introduced me to “Fate” and from there I started to grow on this series at an… large… unnormal… potentially problematic and unhealthy way.

“Where’d the inspiration come from?”:

When I got into Fate, the one thing that reached out to me were the characters themselves and their relationship with one another, and the more I looked into the nasuverse, the more characters that I found that I feel in love with, the more I started to hate, the more I started to have convoluted and mixed feelings towards, but the one thing I loved about most was how characters interacted with each other and how well, or unwell, they get along and nothing else can show my love and appreciation for character dynamics than the couples of Type-Moon.

The couples of Type-Moon range anywhere from being weird to comical to sad to disgusting to wholesome and even genuinely life changing, with the characters themselves having dynamic that either showed how much they pine for love, how love broke them, how love managed to fix them, or by simply how wholesome they are. When Samurai Remnant released and featured a character who loves their spouse very much that they make it their main focus in game, juxtaposed by their spouse still showing their love and devotion for them, it was the thing that eventually caused me to make this tournament in the first place (they weren’t in the tournament though, but it’s the thought that counts).

Running the Tournament:

I was completely sure that I wanted to run this tournament, but the main caveat was the fact that I never ran a tournament like this before and it became very clear, very quickly that I had no idea what I was doing (the potentially weird rules for the tournament and the delayed start times were a big red flag of this, so I’m glad we had so many people stuck around despite that).

Still, I wanted to do my best for this tournament, so I created everything myself (with my sister helping to find a tournament bracket website). And when I mean everything I mean I edited together the main banner of the blog and edited together most of the couple portraits (I got lazy and used official art for some of them, guess which ones)

What’s next?:

Honestly, I want to do another tournament sometime. Obviously not immediately since I also want time off, but I’d also want to do something else and see more people come together to vote on something we all may or may not enjoy. And while I have no ideas at the moment (if you want to give any ideas then feel free to share then through the askbox or through the submission box) but maybe this blog will go through a renovation when I figured something out, hm?

Want to see what I do?:

Well, in case you wanna follow me specifically, then you can follow my personal blog (@player-blandon) for more of my personal things or things I post about games I like sometimes. I don’t post there consistently, and when I do it’s probably, mostly, shitposts unless I’m live-blogging a game I’m playing through or (in the most recent post’s case) doodled something I wanted to share. It’s the place where I share things sometimes and hopefully it’s a place where I can talk to all of you about some stuff as well (chances are I’m going to be posting more fate and type-moon things after this tournament).

Closing Thoughts:

Honestly, this tournament was a bigger undertaking than what I originally thought, but I’m glad I did this. I consider it a learning experience.

Thank you all once again for participating in this tournament. Congratulations to the King of Heroes and his only friend for winning and good job Ryouma and Oryou for putting on a good fight. We all put in a lot in this tournament and I hope to see you all again when I do something like this again…

…until then, I’ll see you whenever I can. Goodbye everyone. See you later!

[avaantares]

Guardian Bonus Bingo: Starlight (Amnesty edition)

<recipe blog intro> Sooo the past month has been one of the months of all time, between yet another bout of COVID (it's still a thing, get your booster!) and the whole workshop reg explosion (I covered that on my main rather than here, but basically it meant two weeks of panic), and then the nonsense happening with the next con I'm booked at (heavy 😒 face) which is o n g o i n g

ANYWAY

All that to say that I've not been on Tumblr regularly since... uh... the second week of July? and the majority of everything posted since then was just my queue running out. While I did remember to look up the @guardianbingo prompts and even managed to produce some content, I wasn't online to actually post said content. Thank goodness for the amnesty period.

I remember writing something for the Frustration prompt, but I... don't exactly remember where that file ended up 😅 so I'm posting Starlight first. </recipe blog>

Like the first two fills, this one is a scene that will slot into my AU YOHE fic Picture Imperfect, which will resume posting just as soon as I have two consecutive minutes free to actually edit the thing (which will not be this month. Fingers crossed for September).

-------------

It was well past sunset when Shen Wei appeared at their usual meeting place at the watchpost. Zhao Yunlan was stretched out on his back in the sparse grass. He’d barely registered the approaching footfalls when he was jolted to awareness by the alarm in Shen Wei’s voice. “Kunlun?”

“What?” Zhao Yunlan half-rolled to his side and craned his neck to look at him—or at least in the direction of his voice. He could just make out a deeper darkness silhouetted against the night sky. “What is it?”

“You—” Shen Wei froze, halfway to a crouch beside him. “Are you all right?”

“Fine. Shouldn’t I be?” Zhao Yunlan strained his ears for any cries of warning or sounds of battle from below, but the night was still. “Is something wrong?”

“I thought you were… unwell.” Slowly, Shen Wei sank the rest of the way to his level. “Why are you lying on the ground?”

Zhao Yunlan dropped back to his recumbent position. “I was just looking at the sky.”

Shen Wei looked up. “Is there something noteworthy about it?”

“Just how many stars there are. It’s so dark tonight, you can really see them.” Thousands upon thousands of them, sprinkled across the sky, dense as the sand on a beach. Without the moon or artificial light to compete with their soft glimmering, the entire canopy stretching overhead seemed alive. Even the darkest parts were shaded with faint speckles, once you looked closely. “I’ve never seen a sky so full of stars.”

“Dahuangshan has no view of the sky? I thought the mountain air would be clearer.”

“They’re… obscured, where I’m from. Too much haze in the air. The light from people’s lamps bounces off it and makes it hard to see through.”

Shen Wei was silent for a moment. “There used to be more of them. Before the Calamity.”

Zhao Yunlan squinted at his silhouette. “What, the meteor knocked stars out of the sky? That doesn’t seem very likely.”

“The ash and debris thrown into the heavens from the impact blotted out the sunlight and plunged the world into sudden winter. Some of the dust fell back to the surface in the years of black snow, but the researchers say that much of it stayed high in the air, circling Haixing. They can tell somehow, with the sacred machines.”

So apparently the spaceship computer analyzed climate data, too. He really needed to get a proper look at one of those “sacred machines.”

Not tonight, though. Tonight, he was on a date—not that his companion would recognize it as such, or even know what one was. “Do you remember it?” Zhao Yunlan asked. “The sky, before the meteor? Or—no, I suppose you were still in Dixing then, weren’t you?”

“No,” Shen Wei answered quietly. Zhao Yunlan assumed he meant he couldn’t remember until he added, “I didn’t see Dixing until much later. I was born on the surface.”

“You were?” Zhao Yunlan rolled upright and shifted around to face him, though it was too dark to see. His Shen Wei had always been so tight-lipped about his past, he hadn’t expected the younger version to share anything about himself. “Where?”

“West of here.” Apparently that was all he was willing to share, because something rounded and warm was suddenly pushed into Zhao Yunlan’s hand. “I brought food. Eat while it’s hot.”

Zhao Yunlan patted around the edge of the bowl until he found the handle of a spoon poking out of it. “I had supper with the men, you know.”

“I saw what you had for supper. You need to eat more.”

Zhao Yunlan could have protested, but Shen Wei was probably right—and he wasn’t about to discourage the man from feeding him, not when he knew what culinary bliss awaited him in the distant future. He sampled the substance in the bowl. It wasn’t exactly congee, since they’d run out of rice days ago, but the texture was similar. He detected bits of wild onion and a few shreds of meat mixed in with the porridge. “What am I eating?”

“Millet, primarily. Unless you mean the rabbit.”

“We have rabbit?”

“The hunters were fortunate. They discovered a warren and brought back several.”

Rabbit wasn’t his favorite dish, but he was grateful for the additional protein. Except for the occasional smoked fish, his meals lately had been lean portions of grain and a selection of increasingly unpalatable vegetables. Even a small supplement of boiled millet and a few bites of meat might give his body the energy it needed to finish healing, and he wanted his leg back to normal as soon as possible.

When he’d finished eating, he set the bowl on the grass and maneuvered around so he could lean back against one of the boulders. “It’s been over a month,” he murmured, gazing up at the sky again. “We left Jiangyan right before the new moon, remember? That means I’ve been here around five weeks.” Air escaped him in a slow sigh. “I wonder how things are back home.”

[emypony]

HEY YOU. PARDOHUA FAN

ITS PRIDE MONTH.

LESBIANS BE UPON YE! (in the form of a one shot)

Pardofelis and Fu Hua finally have a moment to themselves after fifty thousand years. Despite being friends from an incredibly long time ago, Fu Hua doesn't understand why suddenly she's more nervous than her first martial art exam, or unable to take her eyes off of the catgirl sitting next to her. setting:after the moon chapters, takes place in Meow Town, mostly everyone's there but a lot of them are just mentioned.

miiight be slightly ooc because im a sucker for put together Fu Hua just being a nervous mess because of Felis being a tease, but I think it was enjoyable enough!

....and the fact i'd lost 5k of it initially bc discord was mean.

THANK U TO @saor-illust FOR BRAINROTTING ME SO HARD ABOUT THEM And uh! Join the leetol Discord Server to see us be mentally unwell in real time! ((There's hoyoverse games channels as well and we mostly chat there if it's not sentifelis / pardohua xD))

[inscrutable-shadow]

Augusnippets Day 27 - Path of Whumperless Whump - Chronic Pain

more comfort than hurt in this one but i do a little projecting my physical disability (unspecified) onto my blorbo. also filled one of the injury prompts in my inbox with this!

Thanatos awoke in pain, once again. Several thousand years of this, he was used to it, but that didn't make it any easier to get out of bed. The slightest movement of his muscles made his soulstitching pulse with agony. He was going to have to call out.

First step would be reaching his cell phone to call his secretary and tell her to cancel his appointments. That would require moving his arms, a task that currently seemed about as difficult as jumping to the moon. Perhaps he'd wait and see if the pain receded in an hour or so and try again…

"Thanatos?" Rea's voice sounded from beside him. Ae'd been in the shower until a moment ago, and now was leaning over him with concern. "You look unwell."

"It's just the curse," he groaned. He didn't even know if he'd done anything to aggravate it this time, Rea wasn't even the Divine Reality at the moment, so it couldn't be aer proximity. Maybe the jade bracelet? "I'll be all right. Just need to rest."

"I'm calling out of work for both of us, then." Ae unplugged aer phone from the bedside table and tossed aer hair to the side to make room for it against aer ear before he could stop aer.

"No, go to work, Rea. I'm fine. Nothing you can do for me, anyway, it'll pass like it always does." He just needed to sleep. Really.

"I don't care," ae replied firmly, sitting next to him on the bed. "I'm not leaving you. I'm calling your secretary, and then I will heat up rice in a sock for you, and bring you tea with something for the pain, and we will sit and watch Sherlock Holmes. No complaints."

There was nothing to complain about. He had his Rea, and that meant the pain was perhaps not so bad after all.

[deadweight-at7am]

Daniel continues to miss the bus like it's his job. He's driving me insane. He's now missed it twice this week alone.

My job is requiring flu vaccines, even for office staff this year so I have to go get that this morning. Can't wait to feel mildly unwell for the next 48 hours. I also have to get my Covid booster but I'm going to wait until later and take Daniel as well. He and I need the vaccines more than anyone since we're the ones who inevitably get sick EVERY THANKSGIVING. It's a new "tradition" in my family I'm not thrilled about.

It seems like the world has sped past Halloween and we're onto Thanksgiving/Christmas holiday season already.

The squatters across the street from me STILL have not been evicted. It's insane. This eviction is taking ten thousand years. It's driving me nuts. Although, I will admit, recently they've been "quiet". Their dog is a complete asshole and I've only heard it barking at NOTHING once or twice this week. It makes me 100% sure that in the future I will never, ever rent my house to anyone.

[djavlaalskadeunge]

Letter 20

"--- Don't forget me for all the new darling,

think of me that time goes by fast, maybe I'll be home soon and then I don't want to get gray hairs from your infidelity. I wonder if you met Gösta, he is and will remain a friend if he want. Oh how I like him how sweet he is. But I never write to him. I'm such a nut now. I'm so tired that I don't write more than one letter a month and I have to send it home. Call him greetings from me say that many sweet thoughts go to him too. And Vera, what about her as she was unwell when I went here. Write Misse to me. Write something for my lonely soul, it's so hungry you know. It's dangerous to write home, I feel it now, my head is spinning, I long more and more for every word I write.

Do you have a role in a play that is coming up now, tell me if you work a lot and what else you do. I'm dying to hear something. I think--- this that I am already married to Moje. I'm not exactly happy. God if I could talk to you. I'm going crazy living without everything I love. If I did well here and got a little money then I wanted to try at the theater again.  

And then I will take you to me whether you want it or not. Then you have to get a divorce. Or maybe you can bring Nizzi along. I'll think about it for next time. You mustn't delay with an answer either, you see it takes 18 days before it gets here from Sweden. I sincerely hope that everything is happy for you and I ask to be congratulated on all the success that comes with the next play. Write soon. I will ask for letters every hour. Would you like to greet Vera and then Julius Grönalund. I think nothing will be the same if I come home after a couple of years. Greetings to you too, hope you got my message to Karlstad. Don't forget Gurra and live decently until I get home.

A thousand greetings to you my darling.

Gurra"

[witch-without-gender]

Sorry I have so many thoughts right now and I just had another one that I want to talk about so I’m going to.

Also tw I’m going to talk about some personal issues and it ties into capitalism and ableism

Also tw some discussion of s*icide

I understand the sentiment behind saying “hey, it’s ok to not be successful by age 25. You have so much time to live your life and do what you want!” And that’s a lovely sentiment and all but it doesn’t apply to me. I’m going to be 26 next year which means I’m going to lose my dad’s insurance. It’s not the best insurance in the world, but it does mean that instead of paying thousands out of pocket every time I have a medically necessary anything, I’m instead paying like, a grand max. Which is still a lot, but hey at least I’m not paying the 10000 it would cost me otherwise. I also currently have a job that I like quite a bit, but it pays just a bit above minimum wage, can’t give me full time or any upward mobility, and has zero benefits. Getting a job that pays well and has benefits just doesn’t seems to be anywhere in the cards for me anytime soon either. So when I inevitably turn the dreaded age of 26, I am going to be in a predicament. The absolute worst case scenario that is also a real possibility, is me being unable to afford my very necessary antidepressants and relapsing and, well you can guess from there.

I understand that the point of the sentiment of “you don’t have to be successful right away, plenty of people aren’t successful until they’re in their 40s, 50s, and up” is to help people understand that not being successful right out of college is no failing on their part, but maybe just to me, it feels like people are telling me it’s ok to not have job security and insurance and that I’ll get those things eventually in life. That’s not going to work out for me if I die because I’m unable to pay for medically necessary medications, treatments, etc, then I won’t even get the chance to be successful because our capitalist system doesn’t care if you’re struggling due to health issues and/or disabilities. If you’re unwell, better pay up or continue to suffer. And if you can’t? Well survival of the fittest.

I know the intent behind the sentiment is good, I just personally don’t like it and need to vent my thoughts and frustrations about it. Also not looking for advice, I have options for what I can do in the future, there just is an unlikely, but still very real possibility of me losing my SSRIs and becoming suicidal again and I’m just so pissed off about it

[thcscus]

oh my goodness i am so happy you've decided to come here. passerine broke me into a thousand million pieces and shrike took those pieces and put them in a blender. i was physically unwell for days after reading shrike and to this day it makes my heart throb when i think about it. you have such an amazing gift for writing and im so excited to see what you come up with next, have you got anything planned for the future?

Ah yes the one-two punch of found family sbi and then whatever the hell happened to those shrike guys lmao

I'm actually focusing on original work right now, and I'm hoping to have a novel done and polished by next year so fingers crossed that I won't procrastinate too much please i need all the help i can get cross even your toes if you can

[anchanted-one]

Book of Storms: Legend of Vajra Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Rising Star

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43208574/chapters/108630996

A week later

Kira Carsen stifled her millionth yawn of the day as the Council talked. Her Master held the floor, looking as drop-dead gorgeous as she always did. Kira wondered if, in another life, Bela Kiwiiks could have been a popular actress. Or singer. She could just picture it, the Togruta crooning ‘Deliverance by the Rain’ at a live performance while thousands cheered.

But right now, even her stunning looks and refined demeanour did not save the utterly dull drivel she was presenting before the Council, something about movement of illicit goods on the streets of Coruscant.

Stars, how she wished she could sit the fuck down! Why weren’t there seats in the wings for observers and unlucky on-duty Padawans? She looked around the Council. It was another poor showing today, less than half-strength. The holo of the cantankerous Master Kaedan sat on Master Satele’s left, listening to every word despite his disposition. The man could listen, despite outward appearances. On her right was Master Kiwiiks’ empty seat, and beyond that was Master Syo Bakarn, and Master Gnost Dural after him. On Kaedan’s left was Master Orgus, who was deeply frustrated, going by his bouncing right knee. Master Braga sat next to him, radiating serenity and confidence into this room despite also being transmitting from afar.

Kira yawned yet again and sighed before turning her attention to the alien beside her. The hero of the hour. She’d heard the stories already circulating about him, and was secretly impressed that one Padawan could win such a big battle on his own.

Not a Padawan, she reminded herself. Not yet.

His apprenticeship had been delayed by recent events. Several of his prospective Masters had been killed or wounded, while others were called away to fight the Raiders.

But despite his achievement, he was just a kid. Kira had some difficulty taking him seriously, especially the way he was holding himself right now. He stood rigid and tall, like he was on display somewhere. He fought hard to keep the nerves from showing, but his fingers fidgeted with his clothes and his Lightsabers. His foot tapped up a more nervous rhythm than Master Orgus, and his eyes kept darting from the Masters to the door.

“Psst!” Kira whispered. “Hey. Kid. You alright?”

He looked at her with wide eyes, unsure of himself.

“It’s okay,” she assured him. “They don’t mind, if we’re soft.”

He hesitated a moment longer, then nodded nervously. Good boy!

“So, how are you doing?” she repeated.

“I’m fine,” he replied. “What about you?”

“Haven’t nodded off yet. Please catch me if you see me fall asleep. Last time was a little embarrassing. I fell with a loud scream. Challenged an imaginary enemy to a duel."

He stared for a moment, then burst into suppressed laughter. “I promise.”

“Thanks,” Kira smiled. “My name is Kira. Kira Carsen. I’m Master Kiwiiks’ apprentice. I’m secretly evil.”

He suppressed a giggle. “I’m Vajra. I was Uupa WenSuul’s. But she passed on two weeks ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Kira answered.

“She was unwell for a long time,” Vajra said. “Unable to even leave her bed. Most of my lessons the past year were inside her cottage. But I miss her.”

“Good. I don’t have respect for people who don’t miss the ones who raise them.”

Vajra nodded.

[tripstitan]

Can't Be Sure When They'll Hit the Mark

What, you thought I was done with the reference? Strap in and buckle up kiddos and kiddettes and mein kinder, hermosas, hermanos, y hermanes y amigues, all you guys gals and non-binary pals, you dudes, dames, and everything around and in-between.

You're all -Seen-. If you know what I mean. No, seriously, don't think that you're not, that I'm just blowing smoke up your rumpus mcmuffin. My series, AAoMM (An Age of Mysterious Memories, free on Royal Road) is to prove just what I'm saying.

Reggie and a heaping helping of the cast are agendered, or aroaces, or all of the above, or one of the three. Plenty of rainbow fam and queer cuties across our giant umbrella of lgbtqia+ amongst the cast, main and side. But those are just -traits-, not the entire person, persona, or character. You are more than just one of your traits, or even a few traits that seem to dominate your life. That's what this whole journey is about, this thrill ride of acknowledging people all over every spectrum, and acknowledging chronic illness, mental unwellness, mental health coping mechanisms and support networks, and so much more. Reggie's a survivor, in more ways than one. Dealing with panic attacks? It sucks. It really does. Some of Reggie's motivations are trauma-informed, and even they don't acknowledge it. Let's just say that there's a reason that they lean more and more into their role that everyone keeps thrusting on them, "Hero." Reggie's no hero, they'll admit it themselves, hell, they're worried that morally they might just be a villain, or the villain, but heroing's a job somebody's got to do if everyone's going to get a chance at a happy ending. (Not like that, you pervy goobers, those of you that jumped into the gutter. Read more for some cute images at the end.)

We're six thousand pages into an epic tale that is more stream-of-consciousness exploring-the-human-condition through dialogue and mental monologue, than the grand fantasy adventure backdrop it's painted against. It'll probably be about nine thousand pages by this time next year, and maybe the series will reach what I'm hoping will... well, let's just say I hope it continues to provide what it needs to provide for those that need it. Whether it's the escapism of the fantasy, the acknowledgement, the adventure, the camaraderie, the falling in love with the characters, the references and easter eggs and dig-your-teeth-into-the-foreshadowing I've built up as a web that I've plotted for thousands of pages for the analytical amongst us that love to find all the ways I've hinted at things since literally "Day One." (If you're interested in Day One, and the first few confusing days of Reggie's life, check out An Age of Perilous Prologues, yes, my prologue is over one hundred pages, and has a bunch of systems-info, but it also has the formative moments and development of Reggie's main panic trigger traumas. Nothing too content-warning'ish, cutesie wild-animal attack in a wilderness survival drama, it shouldn't be too unexpected for a reader that goes into it.)

There are so many things I want to spoil to you peeps, but I'll just leave you with some Lil and Lucky and the chapter snippet. I've rambled long enough.

Oh, right, the reference. Today's chapter title is "And Roll Out of the Skillet." (Yesterday's chapter was Save Rock if you're not a follower/hadn't seen my previous post.) Yes, there's a lot more than just one of these little portmanteau chapter titles or me addressing either the characters, or my readers, across my over five hundred chapter long series. I'll attach one that's kind of mean, but also funny.

(I'm so evil. But the chapter titles do actually make sense, so I'm not just being a dingus. I am a dingus, but I'm not just being one.)

Have some happy Lucky and happy Lil to balance things out. (Yes, Lucky's a shapeshifter, so he can technically go Bara-pup form, so these aren't entirely inaccurate representations.)

Lil's also a shapechanger, and almost as much of a goober as Lucky... maybe more of one.

[tallmantall]

#JamesDonaldson On #MentalHealth - More #Students Are Having #MentalHealthProblems, But More Are Asking for Help

Photo by Andy Kuzma on Pexels.com Jon Edelman More #college #students than ever were anxious, depressed, and struggling with #suicidalthoughts last #school year. It’s a disheartening finding from the Healthy Minds Study (HMS), which conducts an annual online survey of nearly 96,000 #college #students on 133 #American campuses that was released last Friday. However, the study did reveal a potential silver lining: more #college #students than ever are seeking help. HMS found that 44% of #students reported #depression, 37% reported #anxietydisorders, and 15% reported having seriously considered #suicide, increases of two to three percentage points from winter and spring 2021 data. The rates were the highest in the 15-year history of the survey. Dr. Justin Heinze, an associate professor in the combined program in education and psychology at the University of Michigan and a principal investigator of the HMSThe increases equate to thousands of #students, said Dr. Justin Heinze, an associate professor in the combined program in education and psychology at the University of Michigan and a principal investigator of the HMS. Although the #pandemic might seem like an obvious explanation for the increase in #mental unwellness, Heinze cautioned against attributing the upticks solely to #COVID-19. “We’ve been seeing this trend since at least 2015 and perhaps even a little bit before,” he said. “This just seems to be a continuation.” Societal factors such as #gunviolence, climate change, and #racial injustice may play a role, according to Dr. John Dunkle, senior director of learning and knowledge at The JED Foundation (JED), a non-profit focusing on young #adult #mentalhealth and #suicideprevention. Heinze thought that some portion of the increases could be attributable to better measurement of #mentalhealth and a decrease in the stigmatization of #mentalhealthproblems. He also pointed out that the issues don’t seem to be beginning in #college—#adolescents have shown similar increases in #mentalhealthproblems in other surveys. Although #students are clearly struggling, they are also reaching out for help at higher rates than ever before. 37% of #students reported having at least one counseling or therapy session in the previous year, a seven percentage point increase from winter/spring 2021. It was the largest improvement since 2018. The increase in therapy and counseling may simply be because more students are having #mentalhealthproblems. But the study also provides evidence of continuing changes in #student attitudes about professional help. Only 6% of #students said that they would think less of someone who has received #mentalhealthtreatment, and 40% believed that most people would think less of someone who has received #mentalhealthtreatment, a decrease of five percentage points from winter/spring 2021. #James Donaldson notes:Welcome to the “next chapter” of my life… being a voice and an advocate for #mentalhealthawarenessandsuicideprevention, especially pertaining to our younger generation of students and student-athletes.Getting men to speak up and reach out for help and assistance is one of my passions. Us men need to not suffer in silence or drown our sorrows in alcohol, hang out at bars and strip joints, or get involved with drug use.Having gone through a recent bout of #depression and #suicidalthoughts myself, I realize now, that I can make a huge difference in the lives of so many by sharing my story, and by sharing various resources I come across as I work in this space.  #http://bit.ly/JamesMentalHealthArticleOrder your copy of James Donaldson's latest book,#CelebratingYourGiftofLife:From The Verge of Suicide to a Life of Purpose and Joy www.celebratingyourgiftoflife.com Dr. John Dunkle, senior director of learning and knowledge at the JED Foundation (JED)“I think we’ve moved the needle on #stigma,” said Dunkle. “On some campuses, #students are more comfortable than the so-called #adults.” #Colleges also seem to have succeeded in making sure that their #students know what services are available. 51% of HMS respondents agreed or strongly agreed that if they needed to seek professional help for their #mentalhealth, they would know how to get resources from their #schools. Although the 37% of #students receiving counseling or therapy was encouraging to Dunkle, he noted that it still falls short of the 52% of #students who said that they needed help for #mentalhealthproblems in the past year. He advocated for #schools to examine the survey results more closely to learn about the #students who are not receiving professional help. “I would encourage institutions to dig deeper into the data and start to stratify them based on demographics so that they can really get a deeper understanding of who those 52% are,” he said. “Then they can be more intentional and strategic about getting those #students connected to services.” The HMS did find differences by #race: #studentsofcolor were less likely to access #mentalhealthtreatment. According to Heinze, this may be attributable to differing levels of #mentalhealth #stigma in different cultures. He speculated that #peopleofcolor may be likelier to access other forms of support, through their social or faith networks. Dunkel pointed out that there are relatively few clinicians of color. “Some want to see #mentalhealthprofessionals who look like them and have shared identities,” he said. “And, in some cases, they may not be too many.” The study also found changes in the ways that #students were interacting with substances. #Alcohol use was at its lowest ever, with 54% of #students reporting that they had not taken a drink in the two weeks before completing the survey. However, it was unclear whether #students were using substances less overall. 22% of #students reported using #marijuana in the 30 days prior to filling out the survey, a two-point increase from winter/spring 2021. 17% of #students reported vaping, also a two-point bump. Heinze said that an important next step will be the creation of a resource that #schools can use to figure out what sorts of #mentalhealthprograms will best fit their circumstances. He also thought that more #schools could have standard #mentalhealth check-ins for #students and saw potential for online or hybrid #mentalhealth support as a means of getting #students access to services faster. But, according to Jennifer Rothman, senior manager for #youth and young #adult information, support, and education at the #NationalAllianceonMentalIllness, #anxiety, #depression, and #suicidalideation will likely keep increasing unless underlying causes change. “I think we’re going to at least see the same numbers for next year because we’re continuing to have the same stressors,” she said. “Our best route is just to put more time and energy and funding into having services available to these #students to support them.” Jon Edelman can be reached at JEdelman@DiverseEducation.com. Photo by Andy Kuzma on Pexels.com Read the full article

[transgenderteensurvivalguide]

“Elliot Page doesn’t remember exactly how long he had been asking.

But he does remember the acute feeling of triumph when, around age 9, he was finally allowed to cut his hair short. “I felt like a boy,” Page says. “I wanted to be a boy. I would ask my mom if I could be someday.” Growing up in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Page visualized himself as a boy in imaginary games, freed from the discomfort of how other people saw him: as a girl. After the haircut, strangers finally started perceiving him the way he saw himself, and it felt both right and exciting.

The joy was short-lived. Months later, Page got his first break, landing a part as a daughter in a Canadian mining family in the TV movie Pit Pony. He wore a wig for the film, and when Pit Pony became a TV show, he grew his hair out again. “I became a professional actor at the age of 10,” Page says. And pursuing that passion came with a difficult compromise. “Of course I had to look a certain way.”

We are speaking in late February. It is the first interview Page, 34, has given since disclosing in December that he is transgender, in a heartfelt letter posted to Instagram, and he is crying before I have even uttered a question. “Sorry, I’m going to be emotional, but that’s cool, right?” he says, smiling through his tears.

It’s hard for him to talk about the days that led up to that disclosure. When I ask how he was feeling, he looks away, his neck exposed by a new short haircut. After a pause, he presses his hand to his heart and closes his eyes. “This feeling of true excitement and deep gratitude to have made it to this point in my life,” he says, “mixed with a lot of fear and anxiety.”

It’s not hard to understand why a trans person would be dealing with conflicting feelings in this moment. Increased social acceptance has led to more young people describing themselves as trans—1.8% of Gen Z compared with 0.2% of boomers, according to a recent Gallup poll—yet this has fueled conservatives who are stoking fears about a “transgender craze.” President Joe Biden has restored the right of transgender military members to serve openly, and in Hollywood, trans people have never had more meaningful time onscreen. Meanwhile, J.K. Rowling is leveraging her cultural capital to oppose transgender equality in the name of feminism, and lawmakers are arguing in the halls of Congress over the validity of gender identities. “Sex has become a political football in the culture wars,” says Chase Strangio, deputy director for transgender justice at the ACLU.

(Full article with photos continued under the “read more”)

And so Page—who charmed America as a precocious pregnant teenager in Juno, constructed dreamscapes in Inception and now stars in Netflix’s hit superhero show The Umbrella Academy, the third season of which he’s filming in Toronto—expected that his news would be met with both applause and vitriol. “What I was anticipating was a lot of support and love and a massive amount of hatred and transphobia,” says Page. “That’s essentially what happened.” What he did not anticipate was just how big this story would be. Page’s announcement, which made him one of the most famous out trans people in the world, started trending on Twitter in more than 20 countries. He gained more than 400,000 new followers on Instagram on that day alone. Thousands of articles were published. Likes and shares reached the millions. Right-wing podcasters readied their rhetoric about “women in men’s locker rooms.” Casting directors reached out to Page’s manager saying it would be an honor to cast Page in their next big movie.

So, it was a lot. Over the course of two conversations, Page will say that understanding himself in all the specifics remains a work in progress. Fathoming one’s gender, an identity innate and performed, personal and social, fixed and evolving, is complicated enough without being under a spotlight that never seems to turn off. But having arrived at a critical juncture, Page feels a deep sense of responsibility to share his truth. “Extremely influential people are spreading these myths and damaging rhetoric—every day you’re seeing our existence debated,” Page says. “Transgender people are so very real.”

That role in Pit Pony led to other productions and eventually, when Page was 16, to a film called Mouth to Mouth. Playing a young anarchist, Page had a chance to cut his hair again. This time, he shaved it off completely. The kids at his high school teased him, but in photos he has posted from that time on social media he looks at ease. Page’s head was still shaved when he mailed in an audition tape for the 2005 thriller Hard Candy. The people in charge of casting asked him to audition again in a wig. Soon, the hair was back.

Page’s tour de force performance in Hard Candy led, two years later, to Juno, a low-budget indie film that brought Page Oscar, BAFTA and Golden Globe nominations and sudden megafame. The actor, then 21, struggled with the stresses of that ascension. The endless primping, red carpets and magazine spreads were all agonizing reminders of the disconnect between how the world saw Page and who he knew himself to be. “I just never recognized myself,” Page says. “For a long time I could not even look at a photo of myself.” It was difficult to watch the movies too, especially ones in which he played more feminine roles.

Page loved making movies, but he also felt alienated by Hollywood and its standards. Alia Shawkat, a close friend and co-star in 2009’s Whip It,describes all the attention from Juno as scarring. “He had a really hard time with the press and expectations,” Shawkat says. “‘Put this on! And look this way! And this is sexy!’”

By the time he appeared in blockbusters like X-Men: The Last Stand and Inception, Page was suffering from depression, anxiety and panic attacks. He didn’t know, he says, “how to explain to people that even though [I was] an actor, just putting on a T-shirt cut for a woman would make me so unwell.” Shawkat recalls Page’s struggles with clothes. “I’d be like, ‘Hey, look at all these nice outfits you’re getting,’ and he would say, ‘It’s not me. It feels like a costume,’” she says. Page tried to convince himself that he was fine, that someone who was fortunate enough to have made it shouldn’t have complaints. But he felt exhausted by the work required to “just exist,” and thought more than once about quitting acting.

In 2014, Page came out as gay, despite feeling for years that “being out was impossible” given his career. (Gender identity and sexual orientation are, of course, distinct, but one queer identity can coexist with another.) In an emotional speech at a Human Rights Campaign conference, Page talked about being part of an industry “that places crushing standards” on actors and viewers alike. “There are pervasive stereotypes about masculinity and femininity that define how we’re all supposed to act, dress and speak,” Page went on. “And they serve no one.”

The actor started wearing suits on the red carpet. He found love, marrying choreographer Emma Portner in 2018. He asserted more agency in his career, producing his own films with LGBTQ leads like Freeheld and My Days of Mercy. And he made a masculine wardrobe a condition of taking roles. Yet the daily discord was becoming unbearable. “The difference in how I felt before coming out as gay to after was massive,” says Page. “But did the discomfort in my body ever go away? No, no, no, no.”

In part, it was the isolation forced by the pandemic that brought to a head Page’s wrestling with gender. (Page and Portner separated last summer, and the two divorced in early 2021. “We’ve remained close friends,” Page says.) “I had a lot of time on my own to really focus on things that I think, in so many ways, unconsciously, I was avoiding,” he says. He was inspired by trailblazing trans icons like Janet Mock and Laverne Cox, who found success in Hollywood while living authentically. Trans writers helped him understand his feelings; Page saw himself reflected in P. Carl’s memoir Becoming a Man. Eventually “shame and discomfort” gave way to revelation. “I was finally able to embrace being transgender,” Page says, “and letting myself fully become who I am.”

This led to a series of decisions. One was asking the world to call him by a different name, Elliot, which he says he’s always liked. Page has a tattoo that says E.P. PHONE HOME, a reference to a movie about a young boy with that name. “I loved E.T. when I was a kid and always wanted to look like the boys in the movies, right?” he says. The other decision was to use different pronouns—for the record, both he/him and they/them are fine. (When I ask if he has a preference on pronouns for the purposes of this story, Page says, “He/him is great.”)

A day before we first speak, Page will talk to his mom about this interview and she will tell him, “I’m just so proud of my son.” He grows emotional relating this and tries to explain that his mom, the daughter of a minister, who was born in the 1950s, was always trying to do what she thought was best for her child, even if that meant encouraging young Page to act like a girl. “She wants me to be who I am and supports me fully,” Page says. “It is a testament to how people really change.”

Another decision was to get top surgery. Page volunteers this information early in our conversation; at the time he posted his disclosure on Instagram, he was recovering in Toronto. Like many trans people, Page emphasizes being trans isn’t all about surgery. For some people, it’s unnecessary. For others, it’s unaffordable. For the wider world, the media’s focus on it has sensationalized transgender bodies, inviting invasive and inappropriate questions. But Page describes surgery as something that, for him, has made it possible to finally recognize himself when he looks in the mirror, providing catharsis he’s been waiting for since the “total hell” of puberty. “It has completely transformed my life,” he says. So much of his energy was spent on being uncomfortable in his body, he says. Now he has that energy back.

For the transgender community at large, visibility does not automatically lead to acceptance. Around the globe, transgender people deal disproportionately with violence and discrimination. Anti-trans hate crimes are on the rise in the U.K. along with increasingly transphobic rhetoric in newspapers and tabloids. In the U.S., in addition to the perennial challenges trans people face with issues like poverty and homelessness, a flurry of bills in state legislatures would make it a crime to provide transition-related medical care to trans youth. And crass old jokes are still in circulation. When Biden lifted the ban on open service for transgender troops, Saturday Night Live’s Michael Che did a bit on Weekend Update about the policy being called “don’t ask, don’t tuck.”

Page says coming out as trans was “selfish” on one level: “It’s for me. I want to live and be who I am.” But he also felt a moral imperative to do so, given the times. Human identity is complicated and mysterious, but politics insists on fitting everything into boxes. In today’s culture wars, simplistic beliefs about gender—e.g., chromosomes = destiny—are so widespread and so deep-seated that many people who hold those beliefs don’t feel compelled to consider whether they might be incomplete or prejudiced. On Feb. 24, after a passionate debate on legislation that would ban discrimination against LGBTQ people, Representative Marie Newman, an Illinois Democrat, proudly displayed the pride flag in support of her daughter, who is trans. Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene, a Georgia Republican, responded by hanging a poster outside her office that read: There are TWO genders: MALE & FEMALE.

The next day Dr. Rachel Levine, who stands to become the first openly transgender federal official confirmed by the Senate, endured a tirade from Senator Rand Paul about “genital mutilation” during her confirmation hearing. My second conversation with Page happens shortly after this. He brings it up almost immediately, and seems both heartbroken and determined. He wants to emphasize that top surgery, for him, was “not only life-changing but lifesaving.” He implores people to educate themselves about trans lives, to learn how crucial medical care can be, to understand that lack of access to it is one of the many reasons that an estimated 41% of transgender people have attempted suicide, according to one survey.

Page has been in the political trenches for a while, having leaned into progressive activism after coming out as queer in 2014. For two seasons, he and best friend Ian Daniel filmed Gaycation, a Viceland series that explored LGBTQ culture around the world and, at one point, showed Page grilling Senator Ted Cruz at the Iowa State Fair about discrimination against queer people. In 2019, Page made a documentary called There’s Something in the Water, which explores environmental hardships experienced by communities of color in Nova Scotia, with $350,000 of his own money. That activism extends to his own industry: in 2017, he published a Facebook post that, among other things, accused director Brett Ratner of forcibly outing him as gay on the set of an X-Men movie. (A representative for Ratner did not respond to a request for comment.)

As a trans person who is white, wealthy and famous, Page has a unique kind of privilege, and with it an opportunity to advocate for those with less. According to the U.S. Trans Survey, a large-scale report from 2015, transgender people of color are more likely to experience unemployment, harassment by police and refusals of medical care. Nearly half of all Black respondents reported being denied equal treatment, verbally harassed and/or physically attacked in the past year. Trans people as a group fare much worse on such stats than the general population. “My privilege has allowed me to have resources to get through and to be where I am today,” Page says, “and of course I want to use that privilege and platform to help in the ways I can.”

Since his disclosure, Page has been mostly quiet on social media. One exception has been to tweet on behalf of the ACLU, which is in the midst of fighting anti-trans bills and laws around the country, including those that ban transgender girls and women from participating in sports. Mississippi Governor Tate Reeves says he will sign such a bill in the name of “protect[ing] young girls.” Page played competitive soccer and vividly recalls the agony of being told he would have to play on the girls’ team once he aged out of mixed-gender squads. After an appeal, Page was allowed to play with the boys for an additional year. Today, several bills list genitalia as a requirement for deciding who plays on which team. “I would have been in that position as a kid,” Page says. “It’s horrific.”

All this advocacy is unlikely to make life easier. “You can’t enter into certain spaces as a public trans person,” says the ACLU’s Strangio, “without being prepared to spend some percentage of your life being threatened and harassed.” Yet, while he seems overwhelmed at times, Page is also eager. Many of the political attacks on trans people—whether it is a mandate that bathroom use be determined by birth sex, a blanket ban on medical interventions for trans kids or the suggestion that trans men are simply wayward women beguiled by male privilege—carry the same subtext: that trans people are mistaken about who they are. “We know who we are,” Page says. “People cling to these firm ideas [about gender] because it makes people feel safe. But if we could just celebrate all the wonderful complexities of people, the world would be such a better place.”

Even if Page weren’t vocal, his public presence would communicate something powerful. That is in part because of what Paisley Currah, a professor of political science at Brooklyn College, calls “visibility gaps.” Historically, trans women have been more visible, in culture and in Hollywood, than trans men. There are many explanations: Our culture is obsessed with femininity. Men’s bodies are less policed and scrutinized. Patriarchal people tend to get more emotional about who is considered to be in the same category as their daughters. “And a lot of trans men don’t stand out as trans,” says Currah, who is a trans man himself. “I think we’ve taken up less of the public’s attention because masculinity is sort of the norm.”

During our interviews, Page will repeatedly refer to himself as a “transgender guy.” He also calls himself nonbinary and queer, but for him, transmasculinity is at the center of the conversation right now. “It’s a complicated journey,” he says, “and an ongoing process.”

While the visibility gap means that trans men have been spared some of the hate endured by trans women, it has also meant that people like Page have had fewer models. “There were no examples,” Page says of growing up in Halifax in the 1990s. There are many queer people who have felt “that how they feel deep inside isn’t a real thing because they never saw it reflected back to them,” says Tiq Milan, an activist, author and transgender man. Page offers a reflection: “They can see that and say, ‘You know what, that’s who I am too,’” Milan says. When there aren’t examples, he says, “people make monsters of us.”

For decades, that was something Hollywood did. As detailed in the 2020 Netflix documentary Disclosure, transgender people have been portrayed onscreen as villainous and deceitful, tragic subplots or the butt of jokes. In a sign of just how far the industry has come—spurred on by productions like Pose and trailblazers like Mock—Netflix offered to change the credits on The Umbrella Academy the same day that its star posted his statement on social media. Now when an episode ends, the first words viewers see are “Elliot Page.”

Today, there are many out trans and nonbinary actors, directors and producers. Storylines involving trans people are more common, more respectful. Sometimes that aspect of identity is even incidental, rather than the crux of a morality tale. And yet Hollywood can still seem a frightening place for LGBTQ people to come out. “It’s an industry that says, ‘Don’t do that,’” says director Silas Howard, who got his break on Amazon’s show Transparent, which made efforts to hire transgender crew members. “I wouldn’t have been hired if they didn’t have a trans initiative,” Howard says. “I’m always aware of that.”

So what will it mean for Page’s career? While Page has appeared in many projects, he also faced challenges landing female leads because he didn’t fit Hollywood’s narrow mold. Since Page’s Instagram post, his team is seeing more activity than they have in years. Many of the offers coming in—to direct, to produce, to act—are trans-related, but there are also some “dude roles.”

Downtime in quarantine helped Page accept his gender identity. “I was finally able to embrace being transgender,” he says.

Page was attracted to the role of Vanya in The Umbrella Academy because—in the first season, released in 2019—Vanya is crushed by self-loathing, believing herself to be the only ordinary sibling in an extraordinary family. The character can barely summon the courage to move through the world. “I related to how much Vanya was closed off,” Page says. Now on set filming the third season, co-workers have seen a change in the actor. “It seems like there’s a tremendous weight off his shoulders, a feeling of comfort,” says showrunner Steve Blackman. “There’s a lightness, a lot more smiling.” For Page, returning to set has been validating, if awkward at times. Yes, people accidentally use the wrong pronouns—“It’s going to be an adjustment,” Page says—but co-workers also see and acknowledge him.

The debate over whether cisgender people, who have repeatedly collected awards for playing trans characters, should continue to do so has largely been settled. However, trans actors have rarely been considered for cisgender parts. Whatever challenges might lie ahead, Page seems exuberant about playing a new spectrum of roles. “I’m really excited to act, now that I’m fully who I am, in this body,” Page says. “No matter the challenges and difficult moments of this, nothing amounts to getting to feel how I feel now.”

This includes having short hair again. During our interview, Page keeps rearranging strands on his forehead. It took a long time for him to return to the barber’s chair and ask to cut it short, but he got there. And how did that haircut feel?

Page tears up again, then smiles. “I just could not have enjoyed it more,” he says.”