#I’m transitioning out of the phase where I hate it all

[pynkhues]

FINALLY fixed the opening scene of the cruising fic.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 7

A/N: Right, this might get a little confusing, but you know how we (English speakers) kind of went from Latin, to old English, to Now English? I’m substituting those for the Old Language, ‘Middle Language’ (the transitional phase—completely made up), and whatever the common tongue is for Prythian? Yeah, sorry about that!

Warnings: none…? I don’t think…?

Word Count: 5,587

-Part 6- -🌌🌠- -Part 8-

You stare at the page, heart in your throat.

Stare at the page, and reach for a pen.

Who is this?

Ink stains the white paper, and stupidity heats your features. He probably left it as a taunt. It’s not like he’s going to respond. You groan, setting the pen down, covering your face with your hands. Mother above. Definitely not your smartest moment. Reach to flip the paper over—not wanting to be reminded of your naïveté.

More ink has appeared, just below your scribbled question.

You may hide your intelligence around your family, but that won’t work with me. Smarten up.

The words burn your features. Scowl at the paper.

Forgive me for not anticipating the paper to talk back, Eris.

It vanishes the second you’ve written the sentence, leaving you blinking at the empty space on your desk. Winnowing isn’t possible within the House of Wind—you’ve heard both Rhysand and Feyre say it before. Yet note passing seems completely acceptable, for some reason. You suppose no harm can derive from simple exchanges.

You’ve been surrounded by magic for nearly two years. It’s shameful to still be taken aback by its multi-faceted ways.

A reluctant smile gilds your mouth. That’s Eris alright. Readjust your hold on the pen.

And it’s embarrassing to rely on stupidly long words in attempt to prove your intellect. Just say it’s versatile.

The parchment disappears, then returns. Nothing’s been added.

Amusement brightens your mouth, raising the writing instrument, poising it to attack. The words dance on your tongue, weapons to provocation: You have a bad attitude to being spoken back to. But you shake your head, instead choosing compromise for your next reply.

Did you want something? I doubt you simply dropped in to say hi. Unless this is your way of making sure I got the book?

Perhaps it was my way of seeing where you fall in this alliance.

Brow draws together. He obviously means the alliance between the Night Court and him, but where do you fit into it all? How does this show your placement? What does he even mean, where you fall? Take a deep breath, release it. It will do you no good to fall for his own provocation.

I hope you were satisfying enlightened, then, you write back.

Quite.

Stare at the neatly scripted response. He’s leaving the conversation for you to direct. First thoughts go to where he acquired the book, but somehow you feel that’s not the direction he wants you to take this in. So, sighing, you stumble straight into the trap he’s laid out.

Why haven’t you told anyone?

Paper vanishes again. Takes a minute to reappear.

It’s pretty blackmailing material. Why waste it in common conversation?

Lips purse together as you read his reply. Manipulative indeed.

Whatever you think you’ll be able to extort from me, I can guarantee you’ll end up disappointed.

Not the family favourite?

Blink at the speed of the response. Like quicksilver. Vague amusement warms your chest—how clear the mockery is. Disconcertingly comforting to know he doesn’t change. The same in every form. Precious constancy. Lower the pen to parchment.

I suppose you would know all about that, wouldn’t you?

And I suppose you’ll hide beneath the guise of observation, now?

It certainly isn’t warfare. I’d think you’d be practiced at spotting pretty, bladed words.

Again, the parchment vanishes, leaving you in the silence of your own room. Feet tap anxiously upon the clear wood, leg vibrating as you wait on him. Realisation smacks you upside your jaw—you refuse to sit here wasting precious seconds for whatever nihilistic response he carves out for you. Instead, you turn to the anthology, flicking to the index, peering at titles. Searching for one that will catch your eye.

I’m flattered—you’ve sharpened your tongue since we last sparred.

Roll your eyes. Lips quirking at the inherent Eris-ness of the response.

Wooden swords will only serve me for so long. Why not experiment with steel in a controlled environment?

The parchment vanishes, and takes its time to reappear. Time you spend scanning titles, pondering their contents. Maybe you should ask why he gave it to you in the first place. Certainly not out of the kindness of his heart.

Paper reappears.

You think merely because there are entire courts between us that makes you safe?

Peer at his reply—try studying it. Does he want you to be wary of him? It seems unlikely, somehow. He wouldn’t be able to get anything from you if you’re afraid of him. He should be encouraging you to feel at ease speaking with him if he wants something.

Do you make a habit of being as unpleasant as possible to every person you encounter, or am I just lucky?

A smile warms your mouth as the paper vanishes, fantasising how irritated he might become. From your words! Exhilarating!

Eyes land on a title that piques your interest: Movement of Light. Brow narrows with interest, flipping to the registered page number eagerly. Upon the parchment, beside the tightly knitted words, lays a neat diagram. It appears to be of a rectangle with two small holes punctured through its thin mass. Interesting…

Do you make a habit of keeping secrets from your family?

Lips purse. Cutting to the core, again. Manipulative as he may be, he’s certainly skilled at finding the right bruises to target. You wonder if it’s a skill he’d been taught through books or word of mouth, or if, perhaps, it was a nastier kind of education. Shake your head free of thoughts, pulling away from the book.

Having no secrets at all is stupidly idilic. Are there any other misconceptions you would like me to clear up?

You’re surprisingly cynical for your age.

Strange how having one’s mortality ripped away will do that to a woman.

Even you can hear the bitterness bleeding through. But the words have been written, and the paper has disappeared, so there’s no use trying to take them back. Even if you’re mentally cursing yourself for allowing that kind of opening. Surprised at how easy it is to be caught up in conversation with him. Or sparring, as he so eloquently puts it.

Wonderful immortality not treating you well?

Again, with the taunting. Amusement and something else prickles beneath your fingertips. Irked.

I’ll admit, it’s not quite as spectacular as I might’ve thought once upon a time.

That seems measured enough.

I thought humans were raised to hate us.

Observe the words—how they sit on the parchment. The contrast between your short scribbles and his elegant font.

Might a deer not wish for a wolf’s strength?

Parchment again vanishes. Once you’ve counted to three, you turn your attention back to the book, scanning the passage of writing. Brows narrow at the leap in language—words you’re unfamiliar with. A photon? Maybe it would be better to start from the beginning. Where’s a damn glossary when you need one?

Paper reappears—you take a moment to pull away from the volume.

Have you always been in pursuit of grandeur?

Brow narrows at the question.

I’d say I’ve always been rather passionate about not starving. So I suppose I did once think having three hot meals a day would be utter luxury.

I would have rather rotted away than be forced to live amongst vermin.

A surprised laugh flutters from your chest, amusement sparking within you again.

You’re much too stubborn for such a miserable end, Eris; too bitter to resign yourself to such a fate, either.

Parchment vanishes. One. Two. Three. Return to the volume, start at the beginning. Where your eyes were intended to land. Sighing, you scan the title: The Foundations of our World—Stuff. Brow narrows, lips quirking upward at the vagueness of it. Stuff. Such a lack of precise articulation, yet here it is, in an anthology of noteworthy discoveries. Somehow, this piece had been selected as important; important enough to be the base for the entire book. Strange…

Eye roll across the tightly stacked letters, mind pulsing as words soak into your brain, thumping dully as blood rushes through your ears. Take everything at it’s basest nature, reduce it down to the fundamentals, and what sort of building blocks are you left with? What makes up the world as we see it?

‘Take the prefix a- from the middle language, and combine it with the Old Language verb to cut, creating the name for the indivisible: atom. The smallest bits of matter that can exist independently.’

Intrigue returns with crushing force, making it near impossible to tear your eyes from the volume when the parchment reappears. How long has he been writing? Maybe he was preoccupied.

And yet I understand it was the youngest of you who took up her weapons and headed out into the wild. For how adamantly you protested against my lack of action regarding something I could easily correct, you seem to appear quite the hypocrite. Why didn’t you go out into those woods?

Blink away the memories of frost. Of sweat-stained clothes, and matted, knotted hair.

Getting a little personal with the questions, don’t you think?

Writing to me at all is much more personal than you should ever be getting—I’m sure your friends would agree. Yet there you are, pen in hand, thinking up your next counterattack.

The reply comes with surprising swiftness, allowing you only a brief glimpse of the following passage. Just as you’re beginning to grasp the core of what the essay is talking on.

You write with the confidence sight, you reply, eager to return. Yet he seems to have put his own distractions aside, as the response follows promptly.

Magic is a wonderful thing.

Blood ices in your veins, limbs stiffening, tongue turning leaden.

You’re lying. The House is fortified with wards; practically impregnable.

Yet here we are, corresponding. Does your High Lord know what you get up to behind closed doors?

Heart spikes in your chest, fingers trembling just a little as you lower pen to paper.

You clearly want something; you’re not going to get it if you spook me away, so quit the games.

Very well, but I’ll admit I indulged in the thought of your discomfort.

Release a heavy sigh—he doesn’t somehow have a window into your room, able to watch every move you make. Surely that would be too far, even for his manipulative ways. Skin prickles at how easily he slid beneath it—fingertips brighten.

You share that delightful, sharp-written humour with your youngest brother, you know that?

The parchment vanishes, then reappears in a matter of seconds. You laugh to yourself.

Touchy subject, Eris?

The second you dot the question mark, the door swings open; you yelp, jumping in your chair, shoving the parchment away. Vanishes again a blink later, slightly crumpled from the violent rejection.

“I knocked…” Feyre supplies, features tightening with concern. “Did you not… Oh.” She blinks, peering at the door frame; the threshold. “I suppose it must have been set up to block out exterior noise, too.” Sighs. “I’ll get that fixed at some point. Seems a waste to have a sound barrier up if you’re unable to hear what’s going on outside.”

Swallow heavily, trying to look normal. Like you weren’t knowingly communicating with the heir to the Autumn Court throne. Blue-grey settles upon you, fingers fidgeting in your lap, shifting in your seat to get comfortable. Everything feels unsettled. Her brows arrow, “you’re… What were you doing?”

“Nothing.” You reply, quickly. Far too quickly to be normal.

Lips quirk. “Writing to Bas?” She teases.

Heavy sigh whooshes from your chest, deflating a little. “How do you know about him? I haven’t even mentioned him to ‘Lain,” you say lightly. Something flashes through her eyes, too quickly for you to decipher. “Az mentioned you had someone after you,” she laughs, stepping into the room, door closing behind her. “I had no idea it was so serious,” she smiles, the happiness so inappropriate with the context you have.

Shake your head in denial, “he’s just a friend. There’s nothing else going on.” She gives you a look to say she doesn’t believe you. “I’m serious,” you insist. “There’s nothing romantic going on.” That part’s true, at least.

Feyre laughs again, then shifts on her feet. A strange quest seems to overtake her. “You know things are different here,” she begins softly, “to how we lived as humans.”

Heat flushes your features, making you groan. “Oh my gods, Fey. I am not having this conversation with you.”

“I’m just saying, if you want to get out there…see the world…maybe a few males, too… That’s fine. That’s stuff we can do, now. Well, you can do.” She amends the last part. After all, she’s the youngest, and already has a mate, a husband, and a child. An entire family. The epitome of womanhood.

Shake your head adamantly, “please, stop.” You grimace. Her lips quirk, mischief in here blue-grey eyes. She’s so lively…spirited. Bubbly? But calm, too. When did she become so adult? She seems to have aged in the blink of an eye.

(Why didn’t you go out into those woods?)

She shifts again, peers around the room—it’s a superficial move. She’s buying time, building up to something. “Your floor’s clear,” she notes, nodding to the clear wooden boards. Nod in response, trying not to wring your fingers. You were doing nothing wrong. He had spoken first. Nothing to be guilty about; no one got hurt. It’s fine.

“About our last interaction…” she begins, quietly. Spine stiffens, heart spikes. “I wasn’t trying to find something wrong with you; I’m sorry it came out that way.”

Exhale softly, shoulders lose their tension. Smile easily, waving her off. “Oh, don’t worry about it,” you laugh. “I understand. I’m sorry for lashing out at you, it was unfair on my part to act that way.” Her eyes narrow on you. Keep up the smile. “Is this your way of saying you just don’t want to talk about it?” She asks, softly. Blue-grey shimmers with sincerity.

Lips begin to ache with the stretch. “What are you talking about? We’ve made peace, there’s no need to exacerbate this.”

“Do you not want to talk about it?” She reiterates, keeping calm and quiet.

“What is it?” You laugh, turning to face the desk, eyes flitting to the volume. Scan the page; absorb nothing. “What you said last time. About being a burden.”

Body stiffens, breath catches.

“Fey, I’m getting tired,” you excuse, voice steady.

“You’re tired a lot,” she replies, quietly. Still watching. “Maybe Madja should take a look at you.” Sigh. Lean back in your chair. Tilt your face back, peering at the ceiling. “I’ve had a long life,” you murmur up to the white wallpaper, “I’m allowed to be tired.”

“You’re barely twenty-two.”

“And a lot has happened. I’m allowed to be tired.” You repeat, not looking at her.

Silence stretches between you. Gentle, but taut.

“How about you?” You ask, shifting the conversation over. Turning to peer at her. Your younger sister. Feyre blinks, then nods her head. “Good. Wonderful.” Watch her silently. Mark the lowness of her lids. “Nyx still waking you up?”

Nods again, smiling faintly, traveling somewhere distant. Somewhere foreign to you. “Eight days a week,” she laughs quietly. “Rhys and I are taking turns looking after him during the nights. Despite his work-load.” Sighs, pushes hair from her cheek, tucks it over a pointed ear. “He’s been great. Supportive, attentive, perfect. I keep trying to get him to let me handle Nyx, but he’s insisting it’s a joint effort. Wants to be there in a way his father…” she trails off, eyes misting.

Nod your head slowly. “And I suppose you want to be there in a way our mother…?”

“Yeah,” she replies thickly. “I guess that’s part of it.” The quiet turns viscous, coagulating into something almost translucent.

“I read some things…” you begin gently, “about the turbulence of motherhood.”

Her features lift into a smile, “oh, don’t worry about me. Rhys and I are working through it. It’s difficult, but everyone’s there when the strain starts to set in.” You blink away subtle surprise. “Mor’s always up for taking him off our hands for a day or two. It’s the same with Cass and Nesta,” she laughs fondly. “Amren…well, she’s Amren. And Elain’s great at making little treats here and there. Smiley faces out of his breakfast and things like that—he loves it.”

You nod slowly. Blink. “That’s great.” Again the silence creeps in.

Then she’s shifting on her feet, and. You just know—

“What kind of person is Bas?” She inquiries, not at all subtly. Nosey.

“He’s my friend, and nothing else.” He’s much more than a friend, but there’s no way to explain that without an entire Court’s worth of misunderstandings and uncomfortable questions. Still, she nods, but remains in your room. “And he… His intentions?”

“Feyre,” you scold, incredulously.

Your younger sister doesn’t flinch. Keeps her gaze straight. ��Okay. Okay,” she sighs, holding up her hands in defence. “I’m wary of him.”

“Please, you can trust me he’s harmless. To me, at least. I’m sure if someone swung at him he’d be the type to swing back, but that’s besides the point.” You leave out the part that you’re fairly certain he would be the one to also somehow provoke a fight. He can be pretty provocative when he wants to. Not always in a bad way…

(…a hot, male body that’s pressing you into the wall.)

“I just want you to be careful,” she says quietly, eyes misting, going somewhere far away. “Males…people can be unkind. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Amarantha, Tamlin… You nod your head, “I understand. But Bas…I can trust him. So please don’t doubt him; please don’t doubt me either, in this decision.”

Feyre nods again. Silence stretches, then she straightens. Pats the doorframe. “Well, I’ll have this fixed as soon as possible. It’ll need to be disabled, than I can remake it—so you’ll be able to hear people coming. It’d be awful if you got yourself hurt from being startled by one of us.” She gives you a sweet smile, then disappears out into the hall, door clicking shut behind her.

Unsure if it’s her silent feet or the sound barrier that prevents you from hearing her disappearing footfalls.

————

Skin is itching, fingers burning. Heart spiking.

Burning, burning, burning. Hands on fire.

Vision blurs, floor spinning. She’s on the ceiling.

Crash into a wall, bone crunching. Stumble to the kitchen.

Water. Where’s water. Burning skin. Charring fingertips.

Liquid drips down cheeks, splashing onto knuckles.

Scraped raw, searing pain. Bone splintering, nails peeling.

Cool water fills the sink, drown her hands.

Sweet strangulation, dulcet deprivation.

Lovely oblivion.

————

Breath eases in and out, soothing your lungs. In and out. Slow and steady. In. And out.

Chest deflates, keeping your body straight but relaxed—imagine sinking into the mattress. Cheeks puff up with the exhale, calm and quiet. Sit silently. Allow the world to fade. Tension seeps from your shoulders, muscles relaxing the way you’ve practiced. Now to make sure you don’t drop off instead.

Empty out thoughts, settle into the silence. Float away on a breeze. Imagine hands being set aglow. No. They are aglow.

Eyes remain shut, tight. Picture the radiant green seeping onto your skin, setting it alight.

Fingers twitch, bones itch. Teeth grind. Nails heat.

Eyes open in time to catch the glow as it fades, sinking back into your skin. A flicker of Starfall, then nothing. Sigh heavily, back slumping, shoulders sloping. It’s something; most importantly, it’s progress. Day three of fourteen. Slow movements, slower response. Gently stoking the flames.

Remove the light from your world, lids closing, return to the darkness. Seeking solace. Breath eases in and out, soothing your lungs. In and out. Slow and steady. In. And out. In. And out. Fingertips warm, but eyes remain closed. Don’t acknowledge it. Can’t look or feel for it. Allow it to grow in the back of your mind, allow into latch into your blood; flourish. Swirling and billowing, gaining momentum until it can move on its own, until it can function without nurture.

Keep your back turned to the power, allow it to remain unseen. Pull it upward; hear as it cracks and fizzles in your head. Rapidly dividing…splitting at high-speed…multiplying until it boils and bubbles. One cleaves another in two…into three…nine…

(…Twenty-seven, eighty-one, two-hundred forty-three…)

(…two-thousand one-hundred eighty-seven, six-thousand five-hundred sixty-one, nineteen-thousand six-hundred eighty-three…)

(One-million seven-hundred-seventy-one-thousand one-hundred forty-seven.)

Heat burns your fingertips, flashing pain blaring so rapidly, sparking like lightening across your palms, splintering phalanges…down into the carpal bones, nearing your wrists.

Vision blasts into view, pupils contract to tiny dots, shrinking away from the pale green light that’s blazing from your hands, barreling up your forearms, crackling past elbows, bolting up, up, up… Muscles seize, contracting against the hot itch scrambling your flesh, twisting at sinew. The blinding light dims, eyes peeking open as it dulls to a quiet luminosity, tinting your skin. Feels like poison ivy…the nettles by your old estate.

Swallow, staring at the radiance. Almost mesmerising enough to block out the burn. Throat itches, tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. Deep breaths. Ease in. And out. Deep and easy. Calm and quiet. Collected.

Slowly, warily, you rise from your bed, door swinging open on the house’s command. Silently pad down the hallway, arms and torso concealed well by your dress, cardigan hiding the faint incandescence of your wrists. Hands—no way to hide them. Ignore it for now, you need a drink. Deep and easy. In. And out. Calm. Quiet and collected.

A glass waits for you on the table, walk steadily forward, fingers tremble as they clutch the cup. Water vibrates inside, tiny ripples fluttering across the surface. Effervescent bubbles shimmer at the base. Grow larger, swelling into compact air, fizzing up. Simmering in your hands. Tension coils your shoulders, brow dampening. Liquid heats up, boiling into a volatile mess. Bubbles pop at the surface, scalding water splashing onto your knuckles.

Scream as glass shatters, burning your bare feet as the liquid sprays.

Heart spikes, glowing brighter, inching up your arms, over your shoulders. Crawling across your collar bones. Muscles knot, tangling over themselves as they seize in terror. Power coils closer, snaking toward your throat, slowly…slowly…

“What—”

Hazel pierces into you, flicking over your hands, marking the shards of glass. He appeared in a flurry of darkness, shadows pulling back once he’s materialised in the doorway. Eyes already scanning for the source of distress. Fix on the slow spread of toxic green as it tip-toes higher. Hits a barrier. It’s a small hesitation—but it’s enough. Magic flickers, recoiling from your clavicle, enough hesitation to be quashed. Like a weight sinking down, an avalanche of rock crushing vermin, bones crunching beneath the pressure. Incandescence shoved away, dripping down your arms, cut back to your fingertips.

Sweet relief washes over you, waves of coolness cresting from your forehead to your toes. Lovely reprieve. Exhale heavily, spine nearly collapsing beneath the strain, leaving a slight glimmer to your fingertips, nails curved and warped from heat. Stagger back as he silently moves toward you. Scarred hands reach out, wanting to touch; wanting to steady.

“Are you—”

“Don’t,” you bark, snapping your arms closer to your body. Feel their unnatural heat as it singes the fabric of your dress. His nostrils flare, scenting the charred material, shadows flicker.

Call breath into your lungs, soothing. Deep and easy. In and out. Calm and quiet. In. And out. Calm and collected. A familiar scent has hairs raising at the back of your neck, eyes flicking up to lock with hazel. Closer than before. Despite the heat.

“What was that?” He asks, the deep roughness of his voice curling across your breastbone, soothing the heated skin like a balm. Swallow heavily, keeping your hands tight to your torso. Turn away; move to the sink. The tap turns on independently, cool water sizzling as it washes over trembling hands. Cold metal mollifies your skin, a comfy weight around your neck. The tiny barrier your magic had hit. Tripped up on.

Azriel doesn’t make a sound, but you can feel him nearby, standing at your side. Watching silently as the water fizzles and hisses, the last of the glow dimming from your fingertips. How close he’d come to touching the blisteringly hot skin. Slowly, the cold begins to souse into your digits, running smoothly over your hands, no longer bubbling or evaporating on impact.

The house has already cleared away the shards of glass; dried the pool of scalding water by the time you’ve dried your hands. Flaky, and ashen. The smooth, creamy texture seemingly been ravished by the heat. Yet all you felt was a slight itch to begin with. You don’t make any attempts to conceal how quickly you want to escape the room, but you’re kept where you are. Waiting…waiting for him to change his mind about keeping your secret. After what he’s just seen…

Feet are pinned to the boards, muscles unwilling to obey your mind as you explore them to turn and leave. Arms feel leaden, stiff and immovable. Wait for the compromise to be retracted. Hands tremble, teeth faintly bite onto your tongue. Wait for the condemnation. For being so foolish; stubborn.

“Are you hurt?” Words thud dully against your ears, keeping your hands as out of sight as possible, hidden beneath the sleeves of your cardigan. Nod dutifully. “I’m okay,” you murmur. Lips are numb, mind buzzing faintly. Floorboards spin ever so slightly, blurring in and out of focus. Deep breaths. In and out. Slow and steady. In. And out. Calm and collected. In. And. Out.

Boots appear at the top of your sight, just a little way from your own. Far enough not to be intimate. He holds out a scarred hand, palm facing upward. Almost expectant.

Blink away the dizziness. Flesh tingling…wriggling beneath your skin. Nails itching.

Wait silently to see what he’ll do.

Continues holding out his hand, waiting patiently to see if you’ll offer up your own. Remain rooted to the spot, numbness crawling beneath your sleeves. Mind buzzing with confusion at the outstretched palm.

Slowly, he begins reaching for your wrist, as if to inspect the results of the experiment. Analyse the consequence. Examine.

It topples you into motion.

Turn on your feet; quietly scamper off down the corridor. Behind the safety on your door.

With the wooden barrier in place, plus the sound block on your room, you can truly feel forgotten for a while. Like time’s stopped.

————

The shower had your blood moving again, temperature cooling to a regular heat. Mind working again, mentally cataloguing every thought you had, every twinge of unusualness that could have been the signposting you should have noticed to prevent that rapid surge of…burning.

Peer down at your hands, almost absently. Aside from the slight roughness to your skin; the chapped dryness to your knuckles, there’s nothing to show for the bone deep itch that had manifested within your flesh. Just the texture becoming sandpapery. Flaky.

A dark blue towel is draped over your shoulders like a shawl, preventing the damp ends of your hair from saturating the changed dress.

(What was that?)

It stopped almost out of nowhere. One moment, steadily spreading throughout your body, the next, it seemed to stumble. Like hitting a bump of some kind. Something that disturbed its momentum. Peer down at the necklace that’s sitting comfortably around your throat, resting just above your collar bones. In the dip of their joining point.

The small, glass pendant hanging from the bronze chain sits innocently on your person. Fingers brush over the map in wonder, curiously feeling. Cool metal contains the accessory, lead encapsulated within a gleaming polish. Even the underside has a pretty finish. Lead, bronze, and glass. Maybe some ink, but that’s all it is. No secrets carved to its base, no hidden compartment. Just a simple ornament, yet something about it disagreed with you. Thank the Mother.

Fingers play with the charm as you take a seat at your desk, reopening the volume. Rusty red leather creaks as you turn to your page, more than willing to submerge yourself in learning. The candles flicker as you ease out a breath, taking in the familiar scent of parchment and something pleasantly spiced. Maybe it’s an Autumn Court scent.

Crumpled paper lands on your desk, settling comfortably between the two large pages of the anthology.

It may surprise you to learn I have better things to do than spend all my hours writing to you.

Stare at the neat, elegant script. Debate the merits of responding willingly. Returning to this strange sparring match would be acknowledging your interest. There’d be no way to talk your way back to innocence. Putting pen to paper will mean…

And yet here you are, Vanserra, writing back to me.

Oh, you hope that irritates him. Hope he sends back something vicious. Something to make you spark awake again. To light up the numbness that’s turning your world monotone.

Would you like to tell me where these wrinkles came from?

Lips tug at the edges, but remain set in a dull line. Lower your pen to the roughed-up parchment. Fingers dry and somewhat cracked in the low light.

Nonsense, Eris. You don’t look a day over thirty.

Picture the way his sharp caramel eyes blaze with ire at the brazenness. Maybe his palms also heat when he’s in a mood. It’s a little comforting to remember power probably didn’t come naturally to him. Maybe. You’re making assumptions, though.

And you don’t dress a day over fifty. Considering Rhys’ wealth is at your fingertips, you have the fashion sense of someone who’s still destitute.

Mouth parts as you read the response. Brows flicking up your forehead. Harsh…

A smile quirks the corners of your lips.

I’ll have you know I dress for comfort. You’re the one who cares so much about prettification. Maybe I could visit your personal beauty parlour sometime, Eris?

Parchment vanishes, allowing you time to peer down at the diagram before you: a small rectangular table. There are various squares left blank, while others are filled in with one or two letters. The boxes that do contain letters attached are numbered, correlating with asterisks further down the page, displaying a full title.

Who would ever accompany you? It’s bad etiquette to visit a tonsorium on one’s own.

The smile fades after a few moments. Who would go with you if you wanted to visit somewhere? Elain? Feyre? …Mor? Shake your head, pushing away the dismal thoughts he’s brought to your attention. Divert elsewhere.

It’s worst to not entertain your guests. What a miserable (and sour) host you would be. I think I’m actually quite glad to not be visiting anytime soon.

Try to return to the anthology; find yourself awaiting his reply. Leg tapping against the floorboards. Minutes pass while you attempt to absorb more of the text, but nothing’s sticking. Like there’s a fog passing through your brain, stopping you from taking in the wonder of the world. More minutes tick by—the sky a solid dark blue the other side of your window. A few other candles gleam alight, and you murmur your thanks to the House. Flame flickers in response. Oddly comforting.

Eyelids start to feel heavy, weighing into your vision.

You don’t realise you nodded off until you wake from your nap. The desk is still void of a reply; you wearily peer around your room, attempting to orient yourself. Knuckles itch to be scratched, still rough to the touch. Gaze settles on your door. Perhaps it’s a little scary that you wouldn’t know if something was lurking directly the other side. Wouldn’t be able to hear any heavy breathing, or the scrape of steel. Deep breath, because there’s nothing there.

Stand to draw the curtains, but hairs stand on end. Remain still for a few seconds, centring on the feeling. Is it fear? Is it loneliness? Brow knits in concentration, absently drawing the curtains, turning back to face the entrance to your room.

(The only exit.)

Sigh in frustration. It’s not good to give into your…however you’re feeling. It will only encourage your mind to exacerbate whatever problem its fabricated. Still, you find yourself opening the door, peering down the well-lit corridor. Nothing there, no strange feeling, no lurking presences. Just your mind finding something to react to, creating a madness to subject you to. Deep breaths. The House of Wind is secure. Safe, and secure. You’re safe here. Nothing bad will happen; you won’t get hurt.

Deep breaths, heart lowering its pace.

Move to bring the door to; notice something on the ground, beside the frame.

Crouch down to pick up the small tin. Bring it inside, door swinging shut as you hold it up to the light.

Peer at the neat label. Pop open the lid; look inside.

It’s a small pot of hand cream.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch

CBMTHY Taglist: @impossibelle @naturakaashi @sakurafrost3-blog @ficienjoyedrbspot @azriels-shadowsinger @marina468 @misstea12 @going-through-shit @fussel9913 @minakay @i-am-infinite @wannabewolf @thegirlintheshadows101 @kennedy-brooke @esposadomd @horneybeach1 @jeannineee @harrystylesfan2686 @tothestarsandwhateverend @abysshaven @starlight-hope @stupidwingboy @nastynesta @luvmoo @furiousbooklover @kuraikei @kemillyfreitas @chasing-autumns-chill @marvelpotter @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @imma-too-many-fandoms

[starcrossedxwriter]

Wicked Fantasies Part 11.1 (MBJ x OC)

A/N: Ummm so welcome backkk! This is 11.1 because there's a second part to this chapter (I know... my self control keeps getting worse lolol) But I hope you enjoy!

TW: grief

“I’m never fucking drinking again,” Raven moaned to herself as she stumbled out of the comforts of bed. She felt like hell, if hell had a truck run over its head a few dozen times. 

Raven generally considered herself an early riser but nothing could pull her out of bed that morning after what was, objectively, the dumbest night of her life. Part of her wished she had had one or two more drinks so she could have officially transitioned into the ‘blackout drunk’ phase. So that she would, at least, be spared the embarrassing memories. But no, every horrible moment of the night from dancing wildly at the bar to Michael saving her was etched into the crevices of her brain with shocking clarity. 

Now, it was after noon and Raven still found herself wanting to be curled under her blanket asleep so she could escape her embarrassment. 

A knock at the door pulled her out of her wallowing self pity. She did not make an attempt to move, expecting Tiffany to answer. However, when the voice of their landlord rang out and her knocking persisted, she quickly slid on her robe to open the door. She decided Mrs. Winters would have to get over the fact that she looked like death reincarnated. 

“Rough night, dear?” 

Raven grimaced for a moment, she did indeed look as terrible as she felt. 

“Something like that,” Raven offered a tight smile, her body slumping against the door. “W-what can I do for you, Mrs. Winters?” 

“Oh I’m just letting everyone know that we had a pipe burst on the floor above. We’ll have folks in and out and you might hear some noise and stuff. But if you see any leaking into your unit, give me a ring?” 

“Of course. Will do. Thanks, have a good one,” Raven tried her best to politely shoo the woman away. However, she lingered. 

“Oh I meant to tell you, that boyfriend of yours is just such a good egg. So kind and polite. Admittedly I haven’t met many famous people,” she laughed. “But you just don’t expect them to have such good manners, you know?” 

Raven stopped. “My boyfriend?? Sorry… When was he here?” 

“He stopped by this morning. Gave me a check for your rent for the rest of your lease. Oh and asked where your mailbox was, said he wanted to drop something in it.” 

Raven was worried her jaw might come completely unhinged as the woman spoke. 

He did what?? 

“Are you alright, dear??” 

“Y-Yea, yea. Just… a bit of a surprise. Thank you.” 

And with that, Raven immediately closed the door, not listening to the elderly woman’s reply. 

“This nigga… I hate him,” she muttered to herself as she slumped against her door. 

Every cell in her body knew that was not true. But she also knew that everything she had told him last night was still accurate. She was too tired to forgive him and not just him… anyone ever again. The world has used up all of her second chances and she did not have it in her heart to be disappointed by him again. The narrative in her brain was so set in stone, she did not think anything he could say or do would make her believe anything else. She could not even make herself go retrieve the note that was apparently waiting for her in her mailbox. 

“Such a coward,” she grumbled as she flopped back into bed. 

She stared at her phone for several minutes, her text thread with Michael open. She wondered what she could even say? Thank you?

She knew any conversations demanding she pay him back or he rescind the money would be moot. Even if she had the mental fortitude to argue with him right now, she would still lose. But she could not just accept it without trying to push back. 

She typed and erased and typed and erased before lamely landing on: 

Raven: You can’t pay my entire rent. I can’t accept that. 

Raven: I don’t want that.

Michael: Yea you can. Told you… gonna show up every day tryin’ to fix us. You just gotta let me.

Raven: Money isn’t gonna fix this, Michael. 

Michael: I know. But it can fix the tangible things I fucked up for you

Michael: So let me fix that for you. 

Raven paused, as a warm sensation filled her, a warmth she had not felt in over a month now. The warmth of being cared for. She had never had someone take care of her without wanting something in return, except Michael. Even when their relationship was built on transactions, he still took care of her without needing or asking for something from her. The book deal, her rent were just the tangible examples of how he had stepped up to right the wrongs he could and she could not deny that those actions meant something, softened something inside her. 

He was doing exactly what he promised he would do the night before. He was fixing what could be, he was showing with his actions that she meant something to him. And yet, that blockade that stopped that belief from taking root was still there, still prohibiting her from believing these actions were anything more than a skilled manipulation. 

He would draw her back in, he would not change, and when he got ready, he would hurt her again. That’s what everyone in her life did. 

Raven: It doesn’t change anything

Michael: I know… didn’t expect it to.

She tossed her phone to the side and grabbed her pillow, screaming into it as her frustration got the better of her. The complex web of conflicting feelings with Michael B. Jordan trapped at its center only continued to grow. She wanted him to let her go, to stop caring and trying and going out of his way for her because that fit into the narrative nailed to the cross of her brain, it would confirm her beliefs and fears. 

But instead he continued to do the things that made her fall in love with him the first time, things that only reignited the dimmed but still existent flame that was her love for him. And she knew she would never get over him if she kept letting that happen, kept letting him in. 

So she did not even respond. Instead, she just closed the thread and tossed her phone to the side. 

“Let him go, Rae,” she demanded to herself. “You don’t deserve him and he doesn’t love you.” She repeated that a few times before it felt real again, before all that had started to soften was once again as solid as a block of ice. 

***

“You look like shit,” Alex moaned as she watched Michael’s makeup artist, Shanta, struggle to make him look less like a living zombie ahead of his Oprah interview. 

They were tucked away in a suite in Oprah's sprawling LA estate. It was difficult to make Michael feel poor but Oprah was certainly one of the few people in the world who could do so. 

“Thanks, appreciate that.” 

“You know I don’t believe in lying to you. Make sure you get those bags under his eyes,” she instructed. “Alright, this is it. Final stretch. Movie’s out and every review is stellar so far. Do this interview, it’ll air this week, Oscars on Sunday and then you can sleep. Though I bet it’s not the schedule keeping you up? Talked to her since the premiere?” 

Michael forced his body not to sag at the mention of Raven as to not disturb the hard work of the woman trying to make him look alive after days of no sleep.  

“She texted me about the rent thing the next morning. But it’s been radio silence ever since.” 

It had only been a few days since the fiasco after the premiere but Michael’s concern for Raven had not diminished one bit. He  could not let her go as she requested but he tried his hardest to respect her desire for space. His heart was stuck in the quicksand that was Raven and he had no desire to pull himself out. He wanted to be right there. He knew eventually he would have to accept defeat, accept that she had moved on. But he could not do it while she still questioned her own deservedness. She could hate him for the rest of his life, it would be her right. But his soul could not allow her to live thinking so lowly of herself. So if he had to pay 30 years of rent or call in favors to make her life easier and make her see that she deserved care and someone to sacrifice for her, he would do it. It was high time someone in her life put her above themselves. 

“Well, at least she talked to you. That’s something. You’re doing what she asked. Sis has lived a life, she needs time and space. Keep doing what you're doing. Except for the no sleep. For the love of God, by the Oscars, please get a good night’s rest. That’s your night.” 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Alex…” 

She scoffed. “You’ve won the big four, Mike. It’s not just because I believe you deserve it… Statistically, Best Actor is yours. The Oscars is your night. Have a little faith in yourself.” 

“I hear you. I just don’t wann-” 

“Excuse me?” A young man poked his head in the door. “Apologies for interrupting. I’m a PA. Just wanted to let you know that we’re almost ready? I can take you out to the garden when you’re ready.” 

“Be right out. Thank you,” Alex called. 

Shanta did her last quick finishing touches before Alex gave him her customary once over. 

“Shanta, my girl, you’re a miracle worker per usual.” 

They both offered Shanta their thanks, Michael rolling his shoulders before heading out the door to walk out to the gardens. 

He had met and interviewed with Oprah once before so he was not particularly nervous. But despite having done millions of interviews, there was always a kernel of nerves right beforehand that he could just never shake. 

He was dressed in slacks and a light black sweater, thankful for a cooler day as he walked out into her expansive gardens where the Oprah Winfrey waited for him. The cameras were already rolling, capturing footage that may or may not make into the hour-long special. 

“The man of the hour!” she called, her arms stretched wide to wrap Michael in a hug. “Actually I think man of the year is more appropriate. Welcome. I can’t tell you how excited I am to have you here.” 

“Thank you, thank you. It’s so good to be here.”

“Have a seat,” she gestured at the very comfy chair across from hers. “And we can jump right in.” 

***

Raven’s head was propped against her fist as she stared at her computer. A sentence. That was the grand total of her hard work for that Wednesday afternoon. But it was something, she supposed. Weeks of hard work had amounted to maybe two or three pages of her book. She had been offering Angelina vague answers on her progress, ducking and dodging her to avoid admitting that there was no way in hell she could have a draft by March 15 like they talked about. 

“Rae? You busy?” 

She turned in her chair toward the door to find Tiffany’s head poking in. 

“Nope… I’ll never be busy again at this rate,” she grumbled. “What’s up?” 

“I just turned on the interview… if you want to watch?” 

Raven scratched her head, unsure if she could even watch him? See him happy and thriving without her? Despite everything happening between them though, she could not pretend there was not a part of her that still wanted to celebrate this moment in his career. Interviewing with Oprah the week he was poised to win his first Oscar? How could she ever forgive herself if she did not watch this? Even if it hurts? 

“I’ll… be there in a sec. Thanks, Tiff.” 

Raven let out a deep sigh before she grabbed the blanket off her bed and dragged herself to the living room. The interview had already started and he looked gorgeous. Tired, she could tell, in the way he constantly had to readjust his posture, in the bags under his eyes that the makeup artist could not quite fully cover. But even at his worst, he looked captivatingly good. 

Raven found herself studying him so intently that she did not even comprehend the words he and Oprah were sharing. She just watched him and his mannerisms, she focused on the glimmer in his eyes that sparked every so often. She missed looking into his eyes, missed how expressive they were.  

This moment only amplified how much she missed him, missed hearing the deep baritone in his voice and the spark in his eyes when he spoke about his passions. She missed his bright and uninhibited laughter, how his hands were always on her in some way. She just missed him. But she had pushed him away, had told him to let her go. And even if he had not fully let go of her yet, she felt too scared to open that door again, even if her soul ached for her to. Particularly when he continued to try to show up for her in small ways. 

And despite how angry she still wanted to be at him, she had never had anyone show up for her quite like this… try for her like he did. And everyday, her brain took up far more mental space than it should have, debating whether she should follow her foolish heart and forgive him or listen to her logical brain and cast him aside. Days passed and she still did not know the answer. 

“So I’ll admit,” Raven’s ears finally started to pick up the conversation between Oprah and Michael, “I watched Waves more times than appropriate. But Gayle and I saw it at Sundance and we both thought it was just the most heartbreaking and poignant look at loss and grief that we had ever seen. While still being engaging and funny and so relatable. The journey your character goes through is just… I mean I think grief is one of the few universal experiences that we all will have at some point. And you really brought that to life through this character and his struggles with addiction. And the fact that you filmed this while engaged in completely different projects with complex characters like Killmonger in Black Panther and Adonis in Creed 3… I’m curious what you pulled from to give that performance?” 

Michael shifted in his seat as he chuckled, Raven had missed how passionate he got about this project, even though he had been talking about it and doing press for it since they first started dating. She knew he had not truly expected the role to blow up in the ways it did but she could tell he was grateful for it, nonetheless. 

“Well first, thank you. Yea aside from Oscar Grant, Andre was the hardest character I’ve ever played and he stretched me as an actor in ways, you know, I didn’t really expect? And I learned so much from him in his sort of journey through grief. You know, when I read the first script, the line ‘grief is the final stage in love’s evolution,’ really stuck out to me. When you lose someone, grief, this enduring pain you feel, is that love shifting and changing because it has nowhere to go, there’s no outlet for it anymore. And so, Andre really reframed my own thoughts on grief and loss and how I process that and allowed me to pull from personal experiences with loss to pour into that character.” 

“Yea I will say, that line was one of my favorites. I sat with that long after the credits rolled.” 

“Yea same. I remember sitting a-and thinking about that one for a while after reading it. And I loved that even in the more comedic moments of this movie, we still had those lines that made you wanna stop and really sit with what the characters were going through.”  

“Definitely, I was dissecting this movie for weeks after. It’s just amazing. So I do want to shift gears to talk about this moment you're experiencing because of this movie. This really is the biggest moment of your career. You’re nominated for your first Oscar and a favorite to win, so far in 2023, you’ve won a SAG Award, Golden Globe, and BAFTA. And you, as of two days ago, just had your directorial debut in Creed 3. First question, how are you still awake?” Both of them shared a laugh. “But serious question, how has this moment felt? How does it feel to be having this moment at this stage of your career?” 

“Oh wow, when you list it like that, I don’t know how I’m awake either,” he chuckled. “But seriously, you know… it’s been a ride. I know you’ve felt this too but you know, you don’t often take a moment to just pause and soak it in. You finish one interview or award show and your mind automatically just jumps to the next one. And I think what I’ve been trying to force myself to do in the later weeks of this insane time is just to slow down and enjoy it. Not rush through it and really enjoy the fruits of… really years of hard work and sacrifice. But that also means sitting with… you know, the challenges of this time too, which isn’t as rewarding,” he admitted with a sad smile. “But I’m growing and learning alot so it’s worth it.” 

Oprah nodded. “You know I always appreciate when people don’t let the 24 hour news cycle and gossip sort of steal their thunder and moment from them. And I applaud you for sort of moving through the more gossipy side of the last few months with grace and maturity. But you haven’t really talked much publicly about those stories and the effect they have had on you. And you don’t have to get into it if you don’t want but I am curious on how you navigated that and really came out on the other side, from what I can see, stronger for it?”

Michael bowed his head and chuckled. “Um… you know a good friend of mine told me that she thought this was the most vulnerable and most genuine I had ever been publicly on this press tour and I think it’s because I’ve had to navigate some really personal stuff during this great but hectic public moment? And that’s new territory for me.” 

“And I think that friend is right. I don’t think we have seen or learned this much about you ever.” 

“Yea and I wish I could take some credit for it but… it was all one person: Raven Turner. And the way we met, now as the world knows, was extremely unconventional and I can admit that our relationship started as a complete lie. A lie I thought would help me be seen as this serious, mature man my team was worried I wasn’t. And I wasn’t,” he admitted. “I was cold and guarded and not at all the best version of myself. And while I regret how we started and trying to fool the world into thinking I’m something I’m not, there isn’t a bone in my body that regrets falling in love with her.” 

He leaned forward a bit as he spoke. “Because all those walls and barriers we build around ourselves to survive in this world of Hollywood? To endure the criticisms and insanity we deal with? She's the first woman to see me. Not the actor and the money and the fame but just me. And in that, she saved me… without trying or intending to. She just loved me and loving her, choosing her is the single greatest decision I ever made. And I hate how this moment has fallen on her, how my terrible decisions led to these pretty disgusting misogynistic attacks on her. And I think my biggest regret is putting someone as pure as her in the line of fire like that and not doing enough to protect her. And you know, I have to live with that, which is tough.” 

“You know I’ve interviewed thousands of people in my career and while I believe you have to change for yourself and on your own, I also have found that the ones who love us, really love us, are often the most powerful catalysts for change in our lives. I’ve certainly seen and experienced that in my own life and it’s important to spotlight those who were that catalyst.” 

“Oh 100%. Especially when, I think this version of me was always there? I was just too hurt to trust anyone with it, so no one saw it. I buried me under this facade I thought was better? But I fell in love with a woman who taught me that you can’t be guarded, you can’t shut down just because you’re hurt. Life is about getting up every day, being authentically you, and reaching out and loving and risking your heart every time. And sometimes you’ll get swatted away and sometimes you’ll get an embrace. But you just deny yourself love when you don’t show up at all. So I’ve been trying to live by that more lately. Because she showed me what real strength and courage looks like. And I want to have that, I want to lead with that.” 

“Wow… you know people are going to watch this and I think, applaud that vulnerability. It’s refreshing to me because I don’t think our world incentivizes or encourages people to admit when they aren’t being their best selves. So I think for you to do that, at a moment when you’re at the top of your game, is commendable.” 

“She deserves to know the positive effect she’s had on my life. To be celebrated for how she supported me. And you know it’s not just me? When we first started dating, I remember her one stipulation was that we couldn’t go out on Wednesday evenings because she hosted a book club for kids at the library she worked at. And that was the most important thing to her, being there for them. The day of our first date, she spent an hour delivering books and SAT prep books to those same kids she worked just because. There’s just a selflessness to her that is truly admirable. And I think while people are attacking her and calling her these vile names because she made a certain choice during a hard time, they should know who she really is. A woman that would drop everything to help you even when you don’t really deserve it. A woman who I’ve seen give others all she had because they needed it more even when she did not have a backup plan for herself. I could honestly talk about her for the rest of this interview because she deserves celebration far more than I ever could. Genuinely good people don’t always get the shine they deserve, they don’t always get the love and care they deserve because we can often take them for granted. But no one deserves to be celebrated more than her, to be celebrated loudly more than she does.” 

“I love that… she seems like quite the woman.” 

“She is… and I hope she knows that.” 

“So tell me about…” 

The words faded away as his words tumbled through Raven’s head. They clashed jarringly against every belief she had internalized about herself, like metal against metal. But she found herself wanting to believe him. Believe the words a section of the world just heard. She wanted to believe that what he saw in her, even over the course of six months, was who she truly was. Not this broken, damaged scapegoat life had fashioned her into. 

There has to be more than this, right? 

Tiffany nudged her with a box of tissues in her hand. Raven had not even realized she was crying but she accepted them gratefully. 

“Don’t know how I still have tears over this man left,” she whispered as she wiped her eyes. 

“I don’t think those tears are because of him, sis.” 

Raven sniffled and grabbed another tissue. “You m-might be onto something. I can’t watch anymore. Night, Tiffany.” 

However, before she reached her bedroom, she heard Tiffany call her name. 

“I know what he did… sucks. And hurts. But that’s a man who loves you, Rae. More than anything. After that? The only person in the world who still won’t believe it is you.”

She turned around to face her, the back of her hand wiping away a few more stray tears. “You know he said the same thing?” 

“Well, I generally don’t think actors are that smart,” Tiffany admitted with a laugh. “But he’s right about that. You deserve to believe good things about yourself, we all do.”

“Nothing good has ever lasted… I always ruin it somehow. I tried to believe I deserved him and life proved that I didn’t,” she answered, her voice small. “D-Don’t have it in me to try again.” 

“Raven… I know we aren’t best friends or anything. But how many times have I watched you forgiven your dad and sister? Let them back in, try to make things right with them? Try to build the family you want?” 

“Too many…” 

“Right… So why does Michael only get one shot when you found the strength to give them 100? When he’s the one actually showing up for you? He’s the one who actually is trying to earn another chance?”  

“It’s not that simple and you know it.” 

“I know that the only person denying you happiness right now… is you. You push away the good people and things in your life because you feel like you don’t deserve it but no one would be here if you didn’t. Michael, the kids in your book club… me. I don’t keep signing leases with you because you’re a terrible person who ruins everything, no one has a gun to our heads, Rae. We’re here because you do deserve it.” 

“Tiff…” 

“Nope, shut up. This pity party is getting old and tired. It doesn’t matter what I think of you… or what Michael thinks or anyone out there.” She gestured toward the window. “All that matters is the narrative you’ve created and until you decide to believe something else, all you’re going to do is push people away and fuck up and self sabotage because it’s all you think you deserve. You gotta wake up and do some fucking work, girl. Cause until you figure out how to erase this narrative from your brain, you’ll never be happy. And you’ll never fall in love with anyone except for someone who treats you like crap. You’ll never build your own family. You’ll never finish your book or have another fulfilling career. You’ll just be stuck in this broken version of yourself alone… forever. And I’ve seen a few different versions of you over the last two years but this is by far the most pitiful.”

Raven had never heard Tiffany be so blunt. The words were biting but she could not deny that some of them rang true in her ears. And that was always the hardest information to hear. 

“Damn… tell me how you really feel.” 

“The soft gentle love wasn’t resonating clearly so had to go with a different tactic…. Just think about it. And once you fix all this shit and move to a mansion in the hills, don’t forget about me.” She winked at her, causing Raven’s jaw to drop slightly. 

“How do you even know that’s gonna happen?” 

She shrugged and grabbed the remote to press play, Raven not even noticing that she paused it.

“Just got a good feeling about the two of you. Now go so I can lust after him in peace while he's still single. Kidding! Kinda..."

Raven let out a small laugh as she shook her head. "I know you're not kidding. Night, Tiff.” 

She slid into her bed, her only refuge of late, and stared at the ceiling. She was surprised she was not tired of looking at it by now. Michael and Tiffany’s words wrestled with her own thoughts for hours

What was her problem, really? It was not that what Michael did was unforgivable because it wasn’t. Some distant part of her, too quiet to break through the noise of her anger, always wondered if there was more to the story, believed that he had to have had some reason. But she was too angry to allow him to explain. It just became vicious ammunition that no one could ever love her or care about her… that she was the problem. 

Well, that’s true… no one’s ever loved you. And everyone who does leaves. 

She supposed her mother must have loved her, but she would never know. She would never feel it. And her grandmother’s love was so distant, so long ago, that it no longer felt tangible, was no longer a tether to anchor her self worth to something positive.

Instead, the only thing that tethered her sense of self worth to anything was her family’s disdain. Disdain that made her question what Michael could’ve seen in her, how he could ever love someone like her? That disdain which made it far easier to believe that what he did was proof that he did not love her than that he possibly did do it to protect her in some weird way. No other thought could live long enough in her brain to take hold. 

And she did not know if doing what Tiffany suggested would fix that. There was not enough time in the world for her muster the courage to interrogate and confront the source of these feelings. She had hoped she would never have to see her family again. Some days, never felt like too soon.

But she knew she could not avoid it. They were the root cause, the narrative in her head was fueled and sustained by them. And screaming at them across the Thanksgiving table and never speaking to them again was not the closure she needed. She thought she had dropped the weight that was her family when she cut them off. But she was still dragging all the luggage they gave her around and it was time to give it back. 

She knew her family did not want to see her either, knew it would be difficult to get them to even speak to her after everything. But she knew she had to try… because she knew there had to be more to life than this. That she had not been born to only suffer through life instead of live it. So she needed to confront her demons for herself, even if her relationship with them did not change one bit.  

She grabbed her computer and her wallet. It was time to go home.

***

Raven’s eyes remained trained on her dad’s house across the street as she sat in her rental car. She was almost shocked that none of her family’s nosy neighbors had not called the police yet as she sat there for nearly an hour, summoning the courage to actually go inside. 

She had felt so sure this was what she needed when she bought her plane ticket. And that confidence did not waver when she stepped onto the plane or during the long journey from LAX to Charlotte, NC. However, once she was in her rental car, she found herself waffling, aimlessly driving around for hours. Her brain seemed unable to direct her to the place she knew she needed to go. Home. 

She just could not make herself do it… not yet anyway. So she did not. Instead, she finally went to her hotel to try to get some rest and her night’s rest turned into the entire Friday holed up in her hotel. She had not booked a return ticket, prayerful and hopeful that there would be a reason to stick around for a few days. But that also meant she did not have the incentive of time to make her move faster. 

But she could not even make herself do this. Because she did not know how to be brave like this. Her life had been nothing but running from pain and confrontation. This was so contrary to that. She did not know how to do any of this. She tossed and turned all night, unable to get any sleep particularly when there was only one person who she wanted to talk to, wanted to seek courage and strength from. Because when she felt scared, when she did not feel strong, he was the only person she wanted to reach for. But she was not sure he would even answer. She had pushed him away, told him she needed space. 

But she had not felt like she could do this alone. So last night, she called him. 

“Rae! Everything ok?” he asked immediately, his question met with silence. 

Raven did not know what to say and regret filled her like ice water in her veins. But she knew it was too late to hang up, she had to see it through. She paid for that moment of weakness when she hit the call button as her throat closed at the sound of her voice. She found it impossible to speak, even if she knew what words to say.  

“I’ll wait until you’re ready, Rae. Got all night for you.” 

And she knew he was not just talking about waiting for her to speak. 

“Why?” she whispered, the simple word coming out in a strangled sound as she tried to push past the tightness in her throat. 

“Why what?” 

“Why even answer after everything I said to you? W-why do you keep trying?” 

“Because I love you,” he answered simply. “And you’re worth it. I’ll keep reaching out, baby girl. Even when you swat me away.” 

“You might be the only person who thinks that,” she whispered back as a tear fell. 

“I don’t think that’s true. But even if it was, knowing one person is in your corner is all you need sometimes.”

She laughed lightly. “That press tour got you only speaking in motivational boxing terms or something?” 

His deep laughter filled her ears and filled her soul with such joy that she had forgotten. She had forgotten what these moments felt like, the two of them on the phone or curled up together in bed, just talking. She missed it… she missed him. But she could not say it, could not bring herself to pull her body out of the water to make that long trek back up the cliff to where he waited for her. Everything in her brain screamed at her that she couldn’t do it, that she did not have it in her. And she hated herself for it. Hated how she clung to the ice barriers around her heart, even though they were utterly fractured and ready to fall. She just was not ready yet. 

She let out a shuddering breath as she hastily wiped away her falling tears. “I… don’t know why I called. I s-shouldn’t have called.”

“Call me anytime, Rae. I’ll always answer. I’ll always show up for you. I hope you know that… at least.” 

“Y-Yea… I think I do… or at least, it’s getting harder to deny it,” she revealed. “Your interview with Oprah… it was really good,” she offered lamely. 

“You watched??” she could hear the surprise in his voice. 

“Yea… I almost didn’t,” she admitted. “But I caught most of it. Did you mean it? Everything you said?” 

“Every single word.” There was no arguing with the definitive tone in his voice. “I get that you don’t trust me anymore. I lied and kept secrets. But one thing I never lied about is how much I love you.”  

Her eyes clenched shut for a moment. That was one thing he had always been consistent about, her ears had just been perpetually shut to it. 

“I… um… I gotta go. Early day tomorrow,” she lied as she sniffled. “I’m sorry for bothering you. Bye, Michael.” 

She was not sure what she had expected to get from that call and, at first, it felt as if she only got a firm kick in the heart for it. But for the first time since she landed, Raven had enough strength to finally drive to her family’s house. She had rolled her eyes at his boxing motivational quotes but hearing someone say they were in her corner, that had given her courage. To just feel like someone was behind her, even if she was alone, that meant something to her. 

She took a deep breath and got out of her car, forcing her legs to carry her to the front door. 

Her rounds of knocks went unanswered, Raven getting slightly frustrated but determined not to leave the porch. If she turned around and walked away, she’d never come back. 

After an extremely brief internal debate, she decided to simply let herself in, deciding that since she contributed to the mortgage, she had a right to come in as she pleased. And her father still, foolishly, kept a spare key underneath the welcome mat.

Though she had not been to her family’s home in two years or so, it still looked the same. Her father’s favorite work boots were thrown haphazardly at the door, several pairs of her sister’s shoes lined up next to them. She was an utter mess but she was, at least, somewhat neat. And it still felt… cold. And it had nothing to do with the cold winter east coast weather. The house had always felt like that, void of warmth and love that made a home a home. 

“Kiara?” she called out. “Dad?” However, she was met with utter silence. 

Part of her supposed she was thankful they were not home and that they had not just ignored her or something. She stood in the living room, staring around the room at the pictures that lined the walls and shelves. So many of her mom, her dad, and Kiara but there were none of her. That was not a surprise, it had always been that way. But that did not make it sting any less. All they had ever wanted was to erase her from their lives and if a stranger walked into this house, it would be as if she never existed.

She started up the stairs, her eyes refusing to linger long on any of the photos there. They were all lies anyway, a picture perfect family that did not exist because she had been born. She decided to ascend to the attic once she made it upstairs. Because that was where all her grandmother’s and some of her own things now lived. She had never really gone through her grandmother’s things after she passed, no one aside from her dad to pack them up. But she knew there was so much of their lives, so many memories she had forgotten of the one person who loved her, forgotten in those boxes that she now desperately needed to remember. 

She ignored how narrow the opening to the attic was, realizing that it had been easier to maneuver up here when she was a young teenager. Everything was still neatly packed away as if her grandmother would be back one day to pick it up. 

She started to open each box, pulling out and examining her grandmother’s things, so many beautiful things forgotten in this attic no one went into. For the first time in nearly two decades, she felt close to the only maternal figure she had ever had, felt like her grandmother’s hand was on her shoulder as she reminisced on their short but well-lived time together. 

She found the old costume jewelry her grandmother used to let her play with, laughing to herself as she thought back to dressing up in front of her vanity mirror pretending to be a model or whatever silly idea the pair had thought up. She almost cried as she found a very crumpled piece of paper with the last story she gave her grandmother to read before she died, a random short story that she had written for class. She had not realized, as she found a folder, just how many of her stories her grandmother had kept. 

A gold glint caught her attention, Raven reaching into a giant box to find a shoe box. Raven had seen that box 100 times but her grandmother had never let her touch it, claiming that it held priceless family heirlooms that she did not want Raven or Kiara to mess up. Raven rolled her eyes that something her grandmother had valued so much had been discarded and forgotten haphazardly at the bottom of this box. 

Finally giving into her childhood curiosity, she opened it. It was still filled with things, part of her thankful that Kiara had never found it. The jewelry and pieces in it were gorgeous and indeed priceless. She took her time as she examined each one, wondering if they had belonged to her mother or her grandmother or some other relative she never met. However, it was what existed underneath the jewelry that caught her eye: piles of tied up envelopes, one with her name on it and one with Kiara’s. 

The handwriting was not her grandmother’s, which made Raven even more curious. 

She pulled out the stack with her name on it and undid the thin ribbon that tied them together. There were ten letters there in total, each one with a different note scribbled on the envelope. 

To Raven on your 18th birthday 

To Raven on high school graduation 

To Raven after your first love 

To Raven after your first heartbreak

To Raven on college graduation 

To Raven on your wedding day 

She only had to flip through a few of them to realize who they were from. Her mom. 

“You’re killing me,” she muttered to the sky, unsure if she was speaking to God, her grandmother, her mother or all three. 

Her hands trembled slightly as she ripped open the one on top, addressed to her on her 18th birthday. These were some of the only words her mother would get to say to her, she did not care how long ago she should have read it. She would savor each one. 

To my sweet darling girl, 

If you are reading this, it means that I am not physically there with you on your birthday. It means that I’ve missed 18 birthdays and too many milestones to write a letter for and for that, I am sorry. You might be wondering why there is not a letter for all those milestones and birthdays that have taken place but this felt like the best place to start and the appropriate age for reading the musings of a dying woman. If there’s even such a thing.

We learned your gender today. Another sweet girl. If the doctor somehow got it wrong, these letters will be incredibly awkward. But I know they are right. Because you, my darling girl, are the manifestation of my wildest dreams. I dreamed of you almost a year ago, this beautiful girl with half my face but all of my spirit and personality. And every night since then, I prayed, begged God to make that dream a reality… no matter the cost. And he did. 

I know my body is not strong enough to be your mother, to be around to be the mother someone as brilliant as you will deserve. But I hope you know that deciding to have you and keep you, regardless of the risks, is the single greatest decision I ever made. You were not an accident or a misfortune given to me. You are my dreams. And if my last moments on this earth are spent looking at you, it will have been worth it. 

I waited until 18 to start these letters because I worried a child could never understand the choice I made. And you may still not. And if you resent me for leaving you before you could know me, I understand that too. But I hope that through these letters, you will get to know me. And you will feel some semblance of the immense love I have for you. 

I don’t have much advice because you’ve likely heard it all at this point. But the two most important things I can tell you, that I wish someone had told 18 year old me, is to know that failure is part of the journey. Your grandmother used to always tell me to keep reaching out your hand even if it doesn’t work. I didn’t really understand it soon enough but I hope you do. Life is about risks and if you don’t reach out your hand out of fear, you’ll protect yourself from pain but you will also miss out on the gifts God is trying to hand you. As a daughter, I hated to admit it, but mama was right about that… and so many other things. 

And finally, more importantly than anything else I could offer you in these letters, please remember every day that you are so, so loved. 

Know that regardless of what happened to me, I loved you with every fiber of my being until my last breath. Know that you were a gift from God. And every day you venture out into this world, know that you are worthy of so much because you were so loved from the moment you were dreamed up. Do not let anyone or whatever will happen to you in what I pray is a long, rich, happy life diminish that light, diminish your worth. I know how special you are and I don’t even know your name yet. And while I hope that your father and grandmother will affirm you daily, you don’t need other people to tell you that you are special. You have to know it for yourself. That’s the most important advice I can give you. Know who you are and your worth and take up as much space in this world as you want. And as long as you never forget how special you are… how deserving you are, you’ll move through this world shining bright. And the world will be forced to know it too and move to give you what you deserve. It’s not much and a bit cliche perhaps but I’ve been torn down enough to know that sometimes we all need the reminder. But those are stories for another letter. 

By the time I write my next letter, I promise I will have picked out a name for you. I read a book the other day where the main character was named Raven… I had not thought of it before but I like it. 

Happy Birthday. 

Love, 

Mom

The river of tears streaming down Raven’s face splashed against the slanted handwriting on the page, Raven quickly whisking them away so the words would remain legible. Raven did not even know how long she sat there staring at the words on the page, her heart bursting with the knowledge that her mother’s hand had touched this very paper, that she had poured her heart and soul into every word etched into it. 

It was like proof she had been real and not this entity Raven had conjured up in her head. Raven could not stop herself from ripping open all the ones that she should have gotten along the way. The one for her first love and the separate one on heartbreak were four pages each, and Raven did not pay attention to the clock as she absorbed each and every word. 

Everything she had learned about her mother had been through her grandmother and she had always wondered if her grandmother told her things just to make her feel better. But she realized that her grandmother had been telling the truth, she and her mother were so much alike. She found herself nodding and laughing along to her mother’s stories and wisdom embedded in all those pages. She was a prolific storyteller too and an amazing writer, another trait Raven realized she must have inherited from her.

For the first time in 30 years, Raven did not feel weighed down by this unbearable guilt. She felt lighter than she had ever been in her entire life. Perhaps this was what God wanted her to find here, not a confrontation with her family, but these words. This tangible proof that her mother had chosen her, wanted her… loved her and that she had not ruined anything at all. 

Her mother would not have wanted her to carry such guilt around for so long because there was nothing to be guilty about. 

The letters were scattered across the attic floor when she heard the faint sound of their garage opening. She quickly folded up all of her letters and stuffed them back into the box, tucking it under her arm as she climbed out of the attic. She did not make much noise as she closed up the attic, just as she heard her father and sister close the garage door and enter the kitchen. 

Their voices drifted up to her ears as she started to climb down the stairs, deciding that she might as well get the pure unpleasantness of this moment over with. 

“Wait… you hear that? Is someone in the house??” she heard her sister ask, knowing that they both could hear her footsteps against the old floorboards. 

“Don’t get your gun,” she called out as she started down the stairs. “It’s just me.” 

She was greeted with less-than-welcoming expressions from her family, such disdain that it made her want to scurry away. But she did not. She had done enough of that in her life.

“Adding breaking and entering to your criminal activity, now?” 

Raven scoffed as she placed the box on the kitchen counter that stood between her and her family. 

“Don’t think you can break into a house you helped pay for?” she answered coolly. “And I’m not the one with a mug shot here if I remember correctly.” 

“No you’re just the one who sold her cheap ass for a quick buck.” 

Raven shook her head, opening and closing her mouth for a few moments as she tried to find the words. 

“Yea I did… And I’m not proud of it,” Raven admitted. “But I won’t let you or anyone shame me for doing what I needed to do to survive. What helped the two of you survive too.” Raven scratched her head, realizing that trying to get closure from her family was unnecessary. Her mother’s words had given her all the closure she had ever needed. That’s what she had come home for. 

“You know, I got a plane ready to rip you both a new one for 30 years of abuse and torture. To try to force you to admit that I’m not the villain you made me to be. But… I don’t need that anymore. Because the cross of guilt and shame you two forced onto my back for all these years isn’t one I should have to carry. But I did because I thought it was the only way to keep you two around. And even without you two in my life, I still drag that cross around because I thought I deserved it. But I realized today, way too late, that I don’t need a damn thing from either of you to put it down.” 

“So you came here to what? To chastise us and steal?” her father asked, gesturing toward the box on the counter. 

“You can’t steal things that belong to you. These are letters mom wrote to me,” she lifted the open letters out before sliding the unopened pile to her sister. “And to you.” 

“Your mother wrote these?” he asked, his jaw tensing as he looked down at the stack. 

“Yeah, she did. You’ll enjoy yours… she was a really good storyteller,” she glanced at Kiara. “These letters just told me something I should’ve realized long before Thanksgiving. That cross? That guilt? It isn’t mine. And I am done wasting my life trying to rectify the mistake of being born. Because it wasn’t a mistake. She chose me… prayed for a second daughter knowing the cost and she decided it was worth it. And hearing her say that? That’s all I need to know that I deserve so much more than this… so much more than you.” She took a deep breath. “Being a grieving husband isn’t an excuse to be a terrible father and I’ll just be grateful I found some way to survive you and this. And jealousy doesn’t give you the right to be a shitty sister.” 

“What the fuck do I have to be jealous of??” 

“I always wondered that. But reading those letters… I finally got it. Because even as a failed author and prostitute, I’m everything she was. Grandma used to always say I had her personality… her talent. I always thought she was lying to make me feel better. But you knew she wasn’t and you could never stand it. Couldn’t stand that I was more like her than you.” For the first time, her sister was speechless. A good look on her in Raven’s opinion. “Mom wanted so much better for me than this and I’m gonna go and find it. Because I’ve wasted too much energy trying to earn the love of people who don’t deserve it. So if you want to go to your graves hating me, making me the scapegoat for every problem in your miserable lives, have at it. But know that I don’t hate you even after all this. I won’t be weighed down anymore by any feelings toward either of you ever again. You aren’t worth it.”

Raven pulled herself to full height and rolled her shoulder back as she scooped up the box and folder she had taken from her grandmother’s stuff. 

“Now I’m gonna go and have that long… rich and happy life mom wanted for me. And I hope you two do the same.” 

She did not look behind her as she walked away, a soft smile on her face as she walked out of her family’s house for the last time.

She let out a long laugh as she sat in her car, so much of the weight she had been carrying around gone. It did not feel sad like when she cut off her family at Thanksgiving. She finally felt as if she had cut the anchor away and she could float away, she could move forward and heal all the broken pieces of herself that they had gleefully chipped away at. 

When she got back to her hotel room, she just kept rereading her mom’s words. She would memorize each letter at this point. A part of her desperately wanted to open the other ones but she had not reached those milestones just yet so she left them where they were. For some reason, she worried her mother would disapprove of her breaking into them early. 

One line of five letters she read and reread stuck to her bones above all else. And of course, as if her mother had known, it was embedded in the letter for her first love. Love… the thing that had cracked her wide open and brought her to this moment in the first place.

You’d be surprised to know that this was the hardest of the letters to write. Because everyone has some prolific idea of what love is and feels like. And I realized I don’t… because I don’t think I’ve ever experienced the love I pray you are as you read this. That’s not to say I don’t love your father, I do. But I want something different than convenience for you. I hope that the love you feel is safe, allows you to feel the full spectrum of what it means to be human - strong and vulnerable, insecure and confident, boisterous and timid. I hope it feels like stepping out of the cold air and into a warm embrace. I hope it is loud and unapologetic because you deserve nothing less. And I hope it makes you feel so enraptured that everything else in the world goes quiet. And lastly, I hope, more than anything, that it feels like home. That when you’re in this person’s embrace, you feel as if your soul finally landed right where it is supposed to be. 

Her eyes scanned that passage over and over again, realizing that she had found the exact love her mother described. She had come back here thinking she was coming home. But this wasn’t home at all. Home was where he was. And he was back in LA, about to prepare for the biggest night of his life in 24 hours. And regardless of whatever trust needed to be rebuilt and conversations needed to be had, she could not allow herself to miss it. She could not allow herself to not show up for him.

Raven scrambled to find her phone as it was hidden beneath sheets of paper. She scrolled through, praying she had not deleted a long forgotten group thread that housed one number she had once thought she would never need but now was the most important phone number in the world. 

She almost shouted praises to God when she found it, clicking the call button on the unsaved number. She paced up and down beside her bed as every agonizing ring dragged on. 

“Didn’t think I’d see your name pop up on my phone ever again.” 

Raven let out a sigh of relief as her voice filled her ears. “I know… me either. But I need a favor.” 

“Does it involve a certain award show tomorrow night?” 

“Yes. Is it too late?” 

“Yea it is.” she knew Alex could hear the tiny sigh of sadness she let out. “For anyone but me. I’ve earned enough favors around here to create a miracle or two.”

“Really?? Cause I need like more than one or two miracles… a dress, hair, makeup… hell a flight from Charlotte to make it back in time. Without him knowing?”

“Consider all of it done. Hope you don’t mind getting up at the ass crack of dawn though.” Alex asked, Raven hearing the smile in her tone. 

“For him… I’ll get up anytime.” 

“Good. Then I'll take care of everything... I'll have to tell his mom but she'll love this. And probably be happy as hell that she doesn't have to go anymore. I'll text you details in an hour."

"An hour?? That's all you need??"

"You're new here so I'm gonna choose to not be offended by that."  

"Noted." She was about to hang up when she stopped herself. “Hey… Alex? Thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it. Seriously. Just make sure your ass is on that plane and in LAX tomorrow when Allen picks you up, got it?” 

Raven chuckled. “Yea I got it. See you tomorrow.”

Tag List: @readinghere2023 @blackerthings @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @physicxal @purplehairgawdess @miyuhpapayuh @rueruesclues @geemamii @certifiedlesbianbaddie @pipsqueak-98 @nyifly22 @destinio1 @twocentaur @gopaperless @musicisme333 @roguekiki @majesticbrownjawn @taurusqueen83 @mysteryuz @miamormilan @itsknor-thedeep @naj-ay444 @mads-grace4 @nayaesworld @kholdkill @msniaimani @nccu-rnc @apenasumlug4r @dezzy154

***

A/N: So now will y'all stop yelling at me LOLOL our good sis is going back to her man! We love to see it! How surprised do we think Michael's going to be? Part 11.2 will be the Oscars! Drop a comment and let me know what you thought! And as always, thanks for reading!

[alluraaaa]

transgender voltron thoughts. separated by character. voltrans thoughts

this got long so the rest is under the cut

shiro

trans man. he/him. realized it as a tween. like 11

already had the “shiro” nickname from his surname but chose takashi because it’s the name his mom planned to use. his momma was his best friend growing up so takashi is a special secret name only certain people can casually use for him <3

has a model minority complex and thinks he has to be a perfect person and a perfect role model and perfect everything else. he doesn’t think everyone needs to be like this but he does you don’t get it he needs to be perfect in order to gain basic respect

(he has anxiety) (went thru a frat boy phase tho where he let loose a little)

he’s a bear. when he started t and gained weight and started growing thicker body hair he was like “FUCK YEAH”

wanted top and bottom surgery. irl modern phalloplasty can take skin grafts from the arm and for sillies shiro did that. but on the arm he lost. can’t even show off his cool graft scar 🙄 stupid galra

him and adam are t4t. he picked the name adam because his deadname is eve and he’s the funniest ever

keith

trans man. he/him. realized at like 6

randomly walked up to his dad and said “pops i wanna be a boy” and his dad went “okay son :^)” and helped him with picking a new name and pronouns. that’s why he ended up with keith of all names

his dad planned on helping him with puberty blockers and hrt because keith said he wanted it but. he died before keith got to that age :^(

so unfortunately keith had to go thru one puberty and then another. and THEN he gets a weird galra puberty in his 20s. puberties gerog

shiro was the one to help him get access to testosterone and top surgery <3 yay trans brotherhood ^_^

keith doesn’t care about his junk enough to get bottom surgery tho. he really only got top surgery to get cool ass scars on his chest. he doesn’t give a shit about gender essentialism and isn’t afraid to stab a transphobe ❤️

pidge

trans girl. she/her. also realized when she was real young

same as keith she was just one day like “i wanna be a girl” and her parents were the same and immediately accepted her and helped her with transitioning (she had a bit more social transitioning tho because she wasn’t in the middle of bum fuck nowhere)

unlike keith tho she got to do puberty blockers and start e as a tween and stuff. good for her!

she picked the name katie but it’s not short for anything. she gets the question all the time and she always rolls her eyes

detransitioning for the garrison sucked like ass and she hated it but she did it for her family. coming out to the team was a huge weight off her shoulders

she has a love/hate relationship with femininity but i already went through all that in another post so i’m linking it here. smiles 😁

lance

bigender man/woman. she/he. realizes it while with team voltron

THEE most obvious egg ever. also very obvious bisexual but hasn’t realized that either. it’s painful to watch sometimes (send help to hunk because you know he immediately clocked lance)

he likes women so much because he’s straight!!!! and a lady’s man!!!!!!!!! he doesn’t wanna be a girl and even if he did that’s a universal unspoken secret that all boys have but agree to never talk about!!!!!!!!!!!!

once pidge comes out the rest of the team have more casual talks about being trans and lance is so tbh creature at them. hunk definitely gossips about how clear the closet is behind lance’s back #messy

lance never realizes on her own what happens is keith tells her despite hunk saying that that’s rude. he blatantly tells lance that she obviously wants to be a girl and that she can do that if she wants to. and when she says she likes being a guy keith says she can be both if she wants. she can do whatever she wants forever

after that she thinks about it for like a day and then is like “yayyyyy i’m a boy and a girl and i like boys and girls ^_^”

she has soooo much fun with femininity she plays dress up and is so pretty ❤️ she is indeed a lady’s man but also very clearly wanted to be beautiful like ladies are. and she is ladies!! yayyyyy

didn’t change her name because she loves being leandro alvarez-núñez-cuesta-espinosa so so much ❤️❤️

hunk

agender. any pronouns. realized as a teen

just fully doesn’t care about gender. obviously will respect people’s genders but like. gender as a concept is irrelevant to him and he opted out of gender. he’s too autistic for it tbh

use whatever pronouns you want. make up funny pronouns. fuck it we ball

“this is hunk bong’s my best friend i love bong so much” “lance oh my god”

hunk is a childhood nickname and only family (and lance) know his birthname. didn’t care enough to change it when coming out. he likes his name!! why change it!!

he’s a genius mechanic with access to super advanced alien technology so for funsies he invents a machine that can do instant top and/or bottom surgery with no problem. he can mess around with it for funsies or fashion or whatever. and ofc the team has free access to it as well <3 the only one to use it often tho is lance #besties

allura

trans girl. she/her. realized not long before the events of the show

the post about trans allura that inspired this whole post here

was able to use her shapeshifting powers to her transvantage (trans advantage)

her being out for not long before the war is why she was so excited that pidge is a girl. she’s a girl making friends with other girls!!!!!! and that excitement doubles when learning that pidge is earth’s equivalent of trans yayyyyy

in my mind the notion of people fitting into gender roles on altea is the same vibe as the notion of women wearing skirts not pants irl. like that’s an outdated idea but not that outdated unfortunately :^/

i don’t think there was major misogyny or transphobia on altea tho. not sure if it makes sense to anyone else but it makes sense in my mind ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

coran

nonbinary. any pronouns

when allura came out she sat down with her parents and coran (honorary third parent) and talked about her feelings and thoughts on gender as a whole. coran went “oh. is that not how cis people think?”

he’s not a man or a woman but he’s not sure what he is exactly. he’s coran!

he’d make homemade hrt. may or may not have weird side effects

[deathnguts]

hi! i’m in love with all of your rabastan/regulus headcanons. i’m not sure if you answered this before but how does regulus’s journey as a trans person go in this scenario? when does he realize that he’s a man and when does rabastan? how does it affect their relationships? does regulus ever come out and transition at all?

Hello! I’ve actually never gone into trans regulus in any context even though regulus IS trans to me, like if I see any cis regulus I view it as an AU because trans regulus is real

I think regulus knew there was something off about him. Like he didn’t know he was a boy per day, but he knew he hated the way he was perceived and being referred to as someone’s little girl or all dressed to the nines in lace and skirts made him cry when he was like four. It all got better for a little when he just wore pants and kept his hair stylishly short when he was like 8-11 because girls were allowed to do those things, but then it immediately got worse when he went through puberty because he started to realize what it was he didn’t like. He didn’t like being perceived as a feminine girl, but he didn’t know yet that it was because he was a boy he thought it was because of the expectations that came with being a girl in his family that he viewed as beneath him. He wanted more than being married and having kids, he thought he only hated being a girl because it came with that tragic life. He ignored how he had a huge problem with his own body because all girls hate their boobs and don’t master bait because they hate their vaginas, right? … right?

But, no, he did not realize he was a boy for little too long of a time. I don’t think he knew it was possible to be trans until he was an adult anyway, or at the very youngest late teens. I think he did immediately know that he was a transgender man when he found out that option existed, but he hated it. He did not embrace it with the satisfaction of knowing himself, he despised that this couldn’t have just been easy for him. Of fucking course he couldn’t just be born correct with the right brain and the right body, fuck this. I think he went through a phase especially at the beginning of his and Rabastan’s marriage where he was hyper feminine. He forewent his attempts at just being a tasteful ‘tomboy’ (it was more like women in suits sort of vibe because tomboy was too unrefined to him) and he went all in on the like Lana del ray core style femininity for a solid five or more years. It was a desperate fail safe attempt to be what was expected of him, everyone who saw him married to Rabastan already viewed him as some small young girl who was doe eyed in love with an older man, who cares if he plays the part everyone already sees him playing fuck you.

Anyhow it failed, he was miserable the entire time but keeping it simmering under his skin hoping it would like permeate away but it didn’t, it never does. He grapples with the idea of doing anything about this for another few months I think, slowly deconstructing his feminine mask and testing if the work of deconstructing himself is worth it. He experiments with himself, mostly alone or among his friends. They’re the first to know because of course they are, and obviously they don’t mind. They always kind of noticed, and now that they have a name for what regulus went through it makes sense.

Rabastan kinda notices? Like he obviously knows something is wrong, but he doesn’t know why and he doesn’t know to ask. So I don’t think he does. When his wife starts wearing dresses and ribbons and growing out her hair he tells her she looks beautiful, when she very suddenly stops doing that he kisses her temple and asks if she needs new clothes. But then there’s a little bit of a strange phase where regulus is suddenly very affectionate. He’s always been, whenever he was happy that is, but now it’s almost clingy and regulus has never been clingy.

Inside, it’s because regulus thinks that rabastan will not only leave him if he comes out, but be personally offended that he made him be even perceived to be romantic with a man. Their families are extremely homophobic and transblind, regulus thinks that Rabastan would be in the right to hate him for this. So he hides it, for just a little longer. He loves his husband for as long as he can because he’s sure he’ll be gone forever when given the chance.

But then the day comes, regulus has Barty on speed dial just in case shit hits the fan, and he sits Rabastan down and tells him that everything’s ok they never have to talk again and the cut can be clean and easy and regulus won’t mind (he will) because he’s… he’s a boy. Rabastan didn’t marry a boy. Regulus lied, he supposes, so Rabastan should be allowed to leave.

Rabastan’s…. Confused? Why do you want me to leave? What did you lie about?

Regulus explains further, panic rising in his chest and rabastan gets it after a bit. He doesn’t know what to say.

Regulus, I love you. Not the little girl with tears down her cheeks and not enough words to explain why, not the short hair and fear of her own body, not the dresses and ribbons, not the clinging touches and kisses, I love you, not the phases of what you used to be. I love what you are, if you think that’s a man then I guess I love a man. You won’t get rid of me that easy.

So yeah, it’s a lot of up and downs but he figures it out and embraces it eventually and rabastan’s there for all of it, in summary. Rabastan is a lot of things and their relationship has its insane issues, this funnily enough, isn’t one of them. While Rabastan does sort of think this might be another phase, he’ll never say it and he takes it seriously to make sure regulus knows he knows it’s important to him. Rabastan loves his husband just as much as he loved his wife, it simple to him.

[alias-milamber]

Parables of the Lost Voyage: Awake, Again

Three, Two, One, Dead.

My morph shut down, and my ego downloaded to VR before I had a chance to lose the feeling in my fingers. I've always hated the feeling of having the body shut down around me, so I've mastered the timing of hitting the metaphorical eject switch just in time to avoid it.

An hour in transit passed in VR like a week of holiday, and I woke up on Plato station, on a free trade orbital somewhere close to Saturn. A brief feeling like your essence being sucked through an hourglass, a synesthesic splash of the taste of yellow and the sound cinnamon makes, and I was back incarnate again.

Waking up on Plato was - as going from any orbital to another is - something like waking up in a parallel universe. I entered the same facility I entered a hundred million miles away - identical to the millimetre - but from a dozen centimetres further up, as my new morph was a little taller than the previous one. Not exactly a dizzying change in perspective, but my bones moved differently, my senses caught new things, and slightly differently calibrated eyeware popped reds and blacks strangely. The doors from the facility led out to a mix of the familiar and the strange, brands that stretched over the system next to local options I'd never see again, mixed with francises selling the same food under new names, and old names licensed for new purposes. I picked a coffee shop and attempted to double-caff my way to understanding.

The second sunrise of waking juice was just hitting my brand new bloodstream when I noticed the large screen mounted above the concourse of the commercial way I'd woken up on. It switched from a local new broadcast to the episode currently in progress, and a series of virtual actors and sets appeared midway though what appeared to be an argument that had been in progress for a year or more. It took me longer than I care to admit to realise that not only was this an episode of Twilight's Eden, but one I'd been watching in VR the subjective day before. It was ruinously expensive to send video across the Feed, and so almost all media but the biggest of blockbuster movies were sent as scripts to be interpreted by the local media UAI. Every sector therefore had their own local constellation of stars and background actors, their own version of locations and sets. The words remained the same, the stories could be followed, and it was even interesting to see different interpretations of the same character by MediaAI across the solar system.

I stopped watching. Twilight Eden was comforting, but it was going to take a while to get used to the new cast. I wondered if I could get a copy of the Ultima Station cast and sets, and play the scripts in that locally, but my data budget didn't stretch that far, and I didn't know if they'd keep backups.

My coffee finished, I merged back into the walking crowd towards the dead-drop where my contact's information was supposed to be. Alas, promises to keep, and lightyears before sleep.

--

(The Parables of the Lost Voyage are a short series of fiction pieces exploring the world around an Eclipse Phase campaign I’m planning)

[sweetswesf]

Today, a new grad on my shuttle stop expressed that she was stressed. She asked how I liked my new team and was thinking of transferring to a new one. I offered I could help anytime she wanted me to. She said she would reach out. At times I feel ashamed for not having been able to finish out the year with my last team, but it’s stuff like this that reminds me regardless of where God takes me, it’s for a goal and he can always use me at whatever stage I’m at. I’m set up to help her out.

Additionally, today, I was overwhelmed with gratitude. I went in to work today and I finally feel like I’m getting back in focus. I’m grateful to be on this team. It feels like a good fit. The best blessing is waking up every day without the immediate overwhelming of stress knowing I would have to interact with a manager and teammates who hated me and thought I was dumb and wanted to get rid of me as my last team did.

Despite not being required to deliver real work right now, I have been taking really good notes. I have been focusing on practicing the main function of my team which is sending a few messages and doing my reading on the goals and objectives of my team, group, department, and side of the business. In this has been reading team charters and attending onsites. Knowing why the heck I’m doing what I am doing technically will help me fit the pieces together and help my BS meter: if something seems contrary to the plans established during planning, I can better tell the health of our side, if someone is lying, if we’re making bet, if we’re needing to throw a Hail Mary, etc. It also just feels good being able to follow the money and objective behind what I’m building to grow my strength of weighing the pros and cons of different approaches to solving a technical problem.

The next phase of my prep will be focusing on diving deep technically. Should I have started there first since I’m a software engineer? Perhaps, but I did a bit, stepped away to look at the forest, and now I can rerun to the trees. I know I mostly attend non-technical meetings with the product teams, so being able to speak their language is key. I won’t have as much time to do that when I’m deep in the weeds in tech, so I’m building the foundation now so I can gain credibility and influence with them since most of my time going forward will be deep in the weeds in tech. Often the business side gets neglected and I don’t want to rely on just the PMs to communicate the business details to me, because they be leaving things out, often unintentionally, because they don’t know what we need to know to build. Because there is a lack of them, they are always busy and sometimes leave critical details that we needed to build out and try to demand we build them last minute. By reading these charters, I hope I am growing my muscle of anticipating the types of challenges and business things I need to build for.

Aside from that, I’m going to resume the study schedule I planned to do daily after work that I set as my resolutions for this year and got so distracted from. YouTube, Pinterest, and Netflix are just too damn expensive for me to be on these days and I have to become detached from watching content on them as frequently as I do. It’s never too late to get back in focus though. There’s still one more month of the year so that I can practice for next year. It sucks that there are so many breaks though that will impact my ability to stay focused on my schedule, but that’s life, and I can’t expect to always be able to control all of my schedule, because that is not life. I need to be more flexible to ensure that I get this study time in. It will be long and feel like nothing for a while, but a little every day will help me go far.

Sidebar: what’s up with people watching videos on their phones on public transit without earplugs!? 🤨🤨🤨 I’m not talking about the regulars that typically do this, I’m talking about people with no presumed mental instability who are also not adolescents. Japanese public transit culture is what we need to adopt, in addition to other parts of their etiquette…

[panda-state-panoptic]

What’s your thoughts on Texas being Spains neglected son. I have a headcanon he is because historically Spain was the first to try and settle into Texas a long time ago. But had trouble due to the land being a bit uninhabitable for people to settle there. While Natives were also making it difficult.

To me he’s like the runt of Spains giant family, first he was called New Philippines, Coahuila y Tejas, Tejas, the republic of Texas etc.

After Spain had a difficult time trying to push settlers in his land, he eventually gave up because it was just almost impossible and prolly didn’t have enough men. I think people forget that Spain owned Texas before Mexico really did. He used to be a colony but was eventually given up on. I imagine Mexico being his older sister when Spain found them both. Perhaps Mexico was carrying him because he was fragile.

What’s your headcanon I’m interested to hear yours!

Thank you for not going with the AmeMex baby trope. It’s such a tired one, people, let it rest. Also I’m going to ramble a bit but I like where your head is at for the most part! I agree that he’s sort of a puzzle piece that doesn’t fit.

So I’m still figuring out logistically when each state came into the picture, but pretty much all of them come into being when a sense of identity starts taking shape. So for some states that’s way before they became a state or territory, but for some it’s a closer time frame to when things start getting declared.

The original 13 for example would have existed before they came into contact with Alfred or ideas of the US, but a state like West Virginia would pop up more towards the time she became a state. Texas is also one of those that I do think would exist early enough to have interacted with a previous nation or colonizer before the US. For me I just don’t really think of the states as literal family to anyone besides maybe another state or states based on the preceding territory and history. It’s just not my vibe but I see why it’s appealing to other people. (I’m going to eventually do a post on why the AmeMex kids trope is tired, that and Alaska being Russia’s kid, are the only ones I can think of that I’m like “nope”). Metaphorical or found family bond is a hell ya to me for the states and each other and Alfred though lol

When it comes to Texas I do think it would be interesting (and funny) to have him interact with Spain and Mexico and other personifications like Florida before Alfred. I think he would pop into existence as tensions started rising there when Spaniards tried to move in. I do think him and Spain would be more or less estranged to the point where, although Texas may have felt neglected at one point, it stopped phasing him by the 1900s at the latest. But all in all I see him as just Texas not really “used to be under this nation,” but I don’t think you or someone else would be wrong for going about it that way. He just has this attitude to me of being his own guy that just happened to have a transition of power under different people.

When it comes to his interaction with Mexico I personally don’t see it as family, at least not biological, but again that’s just me. I see where you’re coming from with them geographically and both being under Spain though, and I don’t think it’s a necessarily bad idea. I don’t have a Mexico oc since I like seeing other people’s (shoutout to dahliamorena’s oc), but in my AU I think they’d butt heads since the beginning of Texas being under Mexico lol. Before that when they were both under Spain I’m sure Mexico might have felt protective of him, and even when he was under Mexico, because Mexico was in charge of him. I think Texas would’ve appreciated it but been like “nah I’ve got this” and Mexico probably wouldn’t have minded as long as he didn’t do anything disruptive. But once Texas was under Mexico it was like moving in with an acquaintance only to realize you hate being roommates lmao.

He would’ve felt like he was getting the short end of the stick on decisions that Mexico was making in the interest of the nation. All of this when Texas doesn’t want to be under anyone anyway. To me Texas is definitely a DIY sort of man and Mexico was immediately taking leadership there to stabilize the country. So the lack of independence Texas felt he was getting didn’t sit right with him. It pretty much went from a difference of personality and opinion, plus during a tense political situation, to “yeah I’m out” “what do you mean you’re out??” cue fighting. I don’t think it would be so bad that they could never get over it, but I’m sure it was and could still have the potential to be awkward lol. I also think Texas today would believe he’s closer to Mexico than Mexico does to him XD but not in a really serious way and I can see other interpretations.

That’s all I have to say on your question specifically (if I keep adding thoughts it’s not going to be on topic XD). I’ll definitely add onto this or make another post about Texas’s relationships with Alfred and other states or nations who were under Spain later though because he’s a state I could ramble on about

Thanks so much and definitely feel free to ask more!

TLDR: ya he definitely wasn’t that close to Spain and he has a lowkey complicated relationship with Mexico but it’s not bad or anything and the history is interesting. Basically he’s just a guy lmao

[blandandtasteless]

I need someone to listen to my bullshit

Under this cut is a personal problem that sucks pretty bad and I think I just needed to type it all out like a message I’d send to a friend so I could properly read and analyse what I’m saying.

[Context added in post-production: I told my parents I was trans because I need to wear a dress because the dysphoria has been hitting hard lately, also they suck]

Something which is conceivably one of the worst things to ever happen to me, is occurring… and I’m really out of it right now.

I feel like I’ve got the most boring conundrum going on and I think I’ve got what people describe as “brain-fog” cause I feel… brain off

[~Approx 4 minutes of reflection go by]

Ok. No. It’s totally fair to say I’m a wreck, in shambles, and very emotionally unstable.

I’m not a psychiatrist, or a wise person, or even a trans girl (yet), and I can’t psychoanalyse myself or anyone else, but I think I’m in an extremely unhealthy relationship with my parents whilst also being extremely dependent on them in multiple ways.

I never know what they’re thinking, and I need to know now more than ever what they’re thinking, but I’m literally afraid to talk to them. It’s a terrifying instinctual feeling to flee and cover my ears whenever they say anything.

For years I’ve tried to keep a selfish relationship with them, only taking the room in their house, the food they give me, and the money for university, before totally cutting them off and never looking back. But that’s not worked… and I think I’m being emotionally manipulated, whilst I think they’re often really stupid at times, it hasn’t made a difference.

I desperately feel the need to sit them down and talk at length about my transition and everything else I need help with (my brain) but I’ve never done that before and it’s impossible for me to talk loudly to anyone, less so my parents, less so about gender dysphoria, less so about mental health to pair of ~50 year old conservatives with typical attitudes. I don’t even know if they’re transphobic or in denial (I have a hard time believing that’s a thing but I think other people have expressed their parents just ignored their coming out? Which is insane, for infinite reasons) of my confession, or think I’ve literally just insane like this is a phase. I don’t know, they haven’t told me how they feel, I want to at least know if they hate other trans people.

That’s where I’m at. I think I summarised fairly okay-ish.

If you never want to see this stuff again I always tag personal stuff with “my brain” and I know “my brain” is pretty non-specific, but I didn’t think that far ahead and will forget if I change it.

[whentherewerebicycles]

2022: a year in review

all right all right let’s do some REFLECTIVE JOURNALING about this year!! this has been a year of major life upheavals for me, some of them chosen and some not, and to be honest i still feel like i’m in the middle-to-late stages of a major transition rather than comfortably settled & looking back on it all! but that’s okay, that’s okay. it’s still good to pause, take a breath, and reflect on this year.

i decided to do a separate post about what i want to prioritize or focus on changing in the coming year... so this long journal entry is just about what was hardest about this year, what was most joyful, and what some of my favorite memories were looking back on 2022.

what was hardest or most challenging about this year?

changing careers was by far the toughest thing i’ve had to weather in a while, and that includes the pandemic year(s). every part of that change felt so disruptive to my life, my relationships, and my routines. it really shook my understanding of myself, and if i’m being honest i still have a hard time seeing any silver lining to this experience apart from the financial flexibility my new job has afforded me. which isn’t nothing (more on that later), but also doesn’t totally feel like it makes up for the cost.

sigh ok let’s reflect. the drawn-out process of trying to get my old program extended was so disheartening, especially with all the pushing and prodding i had to do to get the deans to even care enough to send the requisite emails. then the very positive meeting we had with the foundation followed by the swift, no-explanation rejection of our proposal a couple months later was such a disappointment. like, i built that program from the ground up! i believed so much in the work i was doing with kids and i loved going to my job every single day. i had a clear sense of purpose & i felt professionally competent in my role. it wasn’t a perfect job (i still had too much unstructured time and too little real demands on my time/energy) but in terms of the blend of teaching, mentoring, and program design work, it was the closest to my ideal i’ve ever gotten. watching it all just get flushed down the drain because people didn’t care enough to send in the right paperwork at the right time, or because institutional priorities at the foundation had shifted and they wanted to clean house of old projects, or whatever, just sucked. blehhh. i’m no longer actively grieving it, and i DO feel like i was thoughtful and deliberate about giving myself good emotional closure in the final weeks of that last semester. but some part of me still feels pretty bad and sad about how it all went down, and even though i loved my time in that job the ending soured the experience a little. so yeah: that sucked.

and then of course... as you know if you’ve been reading along with my public diary this fall... the job change itself has been pretty depressing. my hope was that even if i had to work in a field i didn’t care about as much, i could at least gain professional experience in a new role that might push me in different ways and challenge me to learn new things. that hasn’t been the case. let me pause here and say that i understand how fortunate i am to have a flexible job that requires very little of me & compensates me really well for it. the change in my financial situation has changed my entire future. it’s now financially feasible for me to pay for IUI cycles and raise a kid on my own. plus i’ve been able to finance a cross-country move, get a bigger place in an area i love, and replace basically all of the slowly-falling-to-pieces stuff (furniture, clothes, appliances) i’ve had since i graduated college over a decade ago. that’s all good! and i’ve now gotten through the phase of the transition where i cried every night after work (and sometimes at work lol) because i felt such despair over what i’d done. so that’s… good. that’s fine.

but hoo boy. i really hate my job. and more disappointingly: i hate the person i am in this job. in my old job i got to think about other people all the time—what they liked and what made them anxious, how best to motivate and connect with them, how to tap into their strengths and help them develop their weaknesses, etc etc. i thought about myself a lot too, but largely in the context of my relationships to other people. i thought about how to be a better listener, or how to slow my knee-jerk jump to judgment, or how to manage my own insecurities in ways that would help me more effectively build connections with kids. i thought about my values and how i could enact those values in my daily interactions with others. i was people-focused! and now i’m self-focused. all the time. like, i still have interactions with friends and family, but at work i’m just by myself 95% of the time. by myself and, because I don’t have enough to do, thinking about myself-my priorities, my needs and desires, my little plans, etc etc. me, me, me. i do feel way more connected to family since the move and that’s providing me with some interpersonal joy and meaning. but i just. bleh. if i sit with it for too long, i have to confront the fact that i don’t like myself very much right now. or I guess like, i don’t like a person who would be content living like this. but i also feel kind of stuck, for reasons i don’t fully understand. i keep dragging my feet on putting together this teaching letter and i don’t know why. i feel like the longer i stay in this really me-focused space the harder it is for me to jolt myself out of it. sigh okay more on this later, when i move onto thinking about things i want to change or prioritize moving forward.

phew! that was a real downer! let me talk about a more positive change in 2022!

what was best and most joyful about this year?

i’ll do two: one big life change and one big perspective change.

first, the big life change. i left texas after ten years and moved to washington state. it was a big scary decision and it felt like it happened very fast. there were lots of logistical headaches involved (including some very costly lease-breaking and moving stresses), but on the whole it’s been such a positive change and i’m so happy i did it. i’ve said it here before but: this was the year i learned that you can just up and change your whole life. you can just do that. anytime you want. i think that is valuable knowledge that i really want to hold onto in the future. you’re not stuck where you are, and if you’re not happy or you need a change, chances are that you can figure out a way to make that happen for yourself. i love the area i live -- it’s further outside of seattle than i was expecting, but i love being so close to the water, i love being able to afford a big place, and i love living in a beautiful area where i’m within walking distance of at least four parks or trails and within easy driving distance of probably a dozen more. the natural beauty is stunning and even after four months i still gasp quietly to myself every single time i walk to the crosswalk across from my complex and see the mountains (they’re just right there). the rain doesn’t bother me nearly as much as i expected (it turns out that if you have the right clothes you’re just... fine? it’s fine?) and so far i’m handling the short, often overcast winter days pretty well.

but obviously, the best part of ALL is just being closer to family, especially my sister. i get to just casually hang out with my sister multiple times a month, something that we NEVER thought would happen (or at least not for many many years to come). i get to have my siblings and SIL over for dinner & just hang out with them all evening. plus i have somehow lucked into having a hockey-going fandom friend here (la) AND one of my best college friends + her girlfriend here... and i’ve somehow convinced my best friend and her partner to move here this summer, so then my life will just be, like... the best. i’m so happy about it. i mean i’d like to eventually make new friends too haha but for now it’s just really, really nice to have a small but very loving built-in social network to cushion the transition.

as i’ve been reflecting on it... i think i was a lot lonelier in austin those last couple years than i realized. and it was mostly my own fault! i just wasn’t as good or diligent about re-investing in my relationships after the pandemic, and i just kind of got used to other people periodically reaching out instead of me taking the steps to really strengthen the friendships that were important to me. i regret that!! and it makes me sad because i love my austin friend group, especially my grad school friends, and i was really, really happy there for such a long time. but idk, i just let things slide! i maybe derived a little bit too much of my social energy from my job and kinda counted on habit to maintain my out-of-work relationships. and re: the city itself, i think i just kinda let myself slip in a post-pandemic funk where i was so stuck in my routines i stopped trying new things or going new places. i really needed to change my whole life. and i did it.

i haven’t fixed everything yet. i still think some things in my social life & in the way i’ve been acting in my friendships is a little out of whack. i feel like i’m not doing a good job of reciprocating thoughtfully and lovingly in my relationships with others, or of communicating to people (through actions, not just words) how much i value my friendships with them. i think that’s partly, again, because this year has just been such an obsessively self-focused year for me.. due to the job search, the move, the lingering pandemic emotional funk, the bleh feelings about the new job and that disconnection-from-core-self i’ve been feeling, etc etc. but i think patterns of behavior that started out as situational (‘i’m thinking obsessively about me, me, me because i’m dealing with big life transitions’) can all too easily become habitual if i’m not thoughtful about interrupting them. so: that’s another thing i want to think about as i look forward to the new year.

okay and then the second best/most joyful thing about this year was the perspective shift i’ve experienced around parenting. i think even as recently as the late spring and summer, i was still feeling really really unsure about having a kid. i never doubted that i wanted to parent someday, but i felt all this uncertainty and reluctance around actually taking the necessary steps. i feel like i was really focused on what i’d be giving up (free time, flexibility, ease of travel, energy for creative pursuits, whatever) and it was hard to weigh those against an uncertain future. from that vantage point, all i could see with any clarity and certainty was what i’d be losing, and i could only very hazily imagine the kinds of things i might be gaining. so i felt like i was dragging my feet a lot, moving forward without feeling ready, still going back and forth on timelines, etc etc.

and then... i don’t know. something shifted. i can’t pinpoint how or where—maybe during liz’s wedding week? maybe as i was settling into the new place & delighting in being so close to my siblings? but suddenly i was just... ready. i’m ready. i’m one hundred percent ready. i mean i know you can’t ever be ready for the realities of parenting, but i do think that you can have that moment where things just click, and you’re like, yeah, i want to do this. i’m all in. i have never in my entire life experienced ‘baby fever’ and i’m certainly not experiencing it now lol. but at some point this fall, something crystallized for me. i want my life to include motherhood (whether i get there by giving birth to a child, by fostering, or by adopting). i want that to be part of my human experience. that’s been unexpectedly joyful for me—that click, and the sense of clarity and purpose that comes with it. it’s kind of funny to me that i spent so long dragging my feet... and now i’m literally counting down the days (13!) till my next cycle starts and calculating out how many IUI tries i can fit in this spring with my travel plans. but you know what?? i’m glad i waited for the click. i feel really good about it.

favorite memories from this year: 

finishing a 50k story that i think is the highest quality thing i’ve ever written and feeling so proud of both the product & the incredible amount of work that went into the process. flying to kansas & driving to iowa to surprise my sister on her residency match day. the incredible symposium my kids put together, including the panel that was so moving and so lovingly done it made multiple audience members cry. that beautiful goodbye luncheon with my kids, where i got to listen to them talk about what they were proudest of and what they most admired most about each other. getting to experience the beautiful, beautiful dream week that was liz’s camp wedding... god that was just the most joyful, life-affirming, soul-expanding experience imaginable. fourth of july at K & N’s place with all my grad school friends, spending spent the afternoon drinking lukewarm beer and pressing bags of melting ice to our faces in a futile effort to cool off. some truly incredible summer sunsets. my favorite hockey guy re-signing with the team in the most dramatic way possible. walking the neighborhood loop i’d walked for six years with the dogs one last time, and then just standing there in the dark, looking out at the lights of the big fields with the moon over them, feeling excited but also feeling the bittersweet grief of losing a familiar place. starting a silly delightful little hockey podcast with two of my favorite fandom friends. visiting my sister in seattle to look at apartments and floating for hours with her on the lake. finding the secret woods with my brother. driving to my new house shortly after moving in and hearing the gps say ‘welcome home.’ getting to host lots of beloved friends and visitors in my spacious new place. wandering costco with my brother sometime in that first week, both of us cracking up and making up bits. being in the same time zone as my best friend and getting to see her every single month. playing twenty questions with liz on a long road trip except all of the things we were guessing were deep cut inside jokes from ten years of friendship. obsessing over greens and then at last finding the right one. my parents coming for thanksgiving and changing all the lights without me asking them, meaning i had to change them back lol, which i understand & accept as a gesture of love aha it’s very very them. going to the fertility clinic with my sister and spending our whole lunch afterwards looking through sperm donor profiles and laughing about it. hosting christmas eve dinner at my house for my siblings and SIL, then driving to my sister’s after her shift on christmas day and just getting to lie around on her couch eating indian takeout and talking about our dream gardens. picking a donor. feeling the click. walking out of my complex on a clear day, looking up, and holy shit: mountains.

[sad-soul-nessaaa]

i just wanted to share for all my girlies & moots who are actively struggling with binging 🙊

firstly, please do not feel embarrassed. more of us go back & forth, binging and starving, but only openly talk about starving. you are not a party of 1. i think it helps to know that you aren’t the only one with deep dark secrets.

secondly, if you are actively in a state where you’re not doing any starving, solely binging and can’t get out of it, this was my trick:

over time, we all learn what times of day are easiest to fast, starve, or avoid food. i’m not in school ofc (minors pls DNI) i work in a clinic. in my professional opinion, i don’t want clinic or hospital staff touching me or talking to me with gross food residue on their hands or lingering on their breath so for me, it is an easy environment to get away with not eating. working with patients, sometimes that can turn into a 12 hour fast all on its own. i use my work schedule and consider it a safe zone/hours of fasting which allowed me to use time not at work (home) where binging really starts to take over your mind.

i started dedicating my days off to eating whatever it is i’m craving (not just any foods, but try to think about what you want most so that it’s not as much a wasted effort. a poptart today won’t cover my pasta craving for tomorrow). i completely give into myself, but stay reasonable and know i’m back at work the rest of the week which will automatically give my body time to fast away the shit i ate.

(i also take 1-2 diet pills before i start work each day for energy boost paired with a low cal monster & i love it)

in the beginning, my binging was so bad that i needed to allot myself extra binge days here or there without the shame & self hate that always followed. love yourself enough to give yourself a grace period. it takes time for your body to adjust and recognize new limits. even allowing myself those days, my body still started to slim out, stomach flattened, all because instead of binging all day/night, sneaking food here and there, i was able to eliminate my body telling me when it was time to binge. i got to decide. i wasn’t craving fries at 1am when i woke up to pee because i allowed myself that mcdonald’s meal at 4pm and gave my body time to start it’s fast at night.

my cravings now are far far less intense, less often, & now when i give in i can only eat half the amount i used to easily put away. i don’t have to lie when i say i am full. the feeling of being full is way less appetizing when you allow yourself to give in when you really needed to.

*also keep in mind the body’s process of digesting food. certain foods and trigger certain cravings. certain times of the day that you eat can entice you to be hungry again in a certain amount of time. it’s all a cycle. i pretend it’s double dutch and i get to choose when i hop in and hop out.

*also note that this is meant to help those transition from binging to starving or even from binging to a healthy eating routine. this ofc is not what i did when i was strictly starving, but if you’re not in this phase of life now, it will happen one day. we all have to get over the hump and back to ourselves again. you’re not a lost cause bc you lost yourself. here you were the whole time 💗

[adaminabarx]

Thoughts on T-Slur Discourse

Who's allowed to say the t-slur discourse seems to be going on right now. Since I’m a 33y/o, non-passing, transexual woman who's been transitioning for about two years I might as well throw in my two cents. 

Being a Trans Child in the 90s and 00s Sucked

I was born in 1990, meaning my childhood was in the 90s and my teen years were the 00s. When I was growing up tranny wasn’t even really a slur. Transitioning your sex or gender was so unthinkable that it was just never mentioned in any real capacity. I would occasionally hear about some “freak trannies” that actually went through with a “sex-change operation”. But that’s not me, I’m not a tranny, right? Doing something like that was for someone who was truly depraved and I’m not a freak. I was told I was a boy and that was the end of it. Why would I question it?

Now you might think that I grew up in some hyper conservative, evangelical household. But no, my parents claimed the opposite. They were super liberal (didn’t even vote for reagan in the 80s), we went to a unitarian-universalist church, everywhere I was surrounded by messages of love and acceptance and being true to yourself.

Yet even in this environment, tranny wasn’t a slur. I remember hearing my younger sister in her mean-girl phase saying that other girls in her grade looked like a tranny. Faggot was a slur and would get you in trouble, but tranny was just a light insult that people would casually toss around.

I knew of exactly one trans woman back then. She went to our church and transitioned in her 50s. I was in the youth group with her son and he fucking hated her for being a tranny. He just tried to pretend she didn’t exist. There was one time I got him alone and wanted to ask him some questions about his mom. As soon as he realized what I was getting at he started ranting about embarrassing and selfish it was for her to transition. How fucked up it is that he has to have a tranny for a mom. Keep in mind that this kid was misgendering his mom at every possible point in his rant.

I also remember one time my mom decided to talk about her on the car ride home. She spent the entire ride criticizing the way this trans woman dressed and talking about how she should have “at least” waited until her kids moved out of the house.

This was the attitude towards trans women at a Unitarian Universalist church in the most open, loving, hippy-dippy, liberal part of Minnesota.

Now I could talk for days about how the 90s and 00s were a traumatizing time to be a trans kid. But let’s fast-forward to the present.

I Don’t Pass

This isn’t me being self deprecating. This is a statement of fact. My testosterone-based first puberty did immeasurable damage to my body, mind, and soul. Every day I realize more and more that every facet of my being has been shaped by the trauma of having to go through a testosterone-based puberty and the expectations that come with it.

I don’t pass, I won’t have any chance of passing until I can afford FFS, BA, and various body contouring procedures. That said, don’t come at me with any platitudes about how I don’t have to pass to be valid. That’s not the point. The point is: not passing means I’m a tranny.

I see it in everyone’s face whenever I go out in public. Whether it’s going to the grocery store or hanging out with friends. When people look at me, they see a tranny. When people interact with me, they interact with me as a tranny. No one treats me like they treat women.

And it affects me! I *know* I’m a woman in my heart of hearts. But I don’t feel like a woman, I feel like a tranny. Everyone else sees a tranny so I see a tranny in mirror every morning when I do my skincare. I see my pronounced brow, my cleft chin, my pronounced jaw, the way my lips sit on my face. I see all the markers that people use to make the judgement that I was AMAB and now I’m desperately trying to be a woman.

Kate Passes Perfectly

The place where all this is the most pronounced is actually when I’m in the presence of another trans woman I know, for the sake of this writing I’ll call her Kate. Kate is one of my cousin’s daughter’s friend. She is a 17y/o trans woman who’s been out since she was 9, got on blockers shortly after, then started HRT at 14.

I met Kate at my cousin’s daughter’s graduation party. I had only been fully out for a couple months at this point. I didn’t really even want to go to this grad party, but my extended family and their friends are all “loving” and “accepting” and “open-minded” so I let my cousin convince me to go.

When I arrived it was all eyes. Just a sea of eyes making judgmental glances. And… Like… How could they not stare!? Here I am, a 32 year old tranny dressed in a gaudy black and white outfit wearing what she *thinks* is low-key makeup. Everyone was “nice”—no one actually pointed and went “look a tranny!”—but no one treated me like a woman.

Then at some point Kate came up to me, introduced herself, and immediately told me that she was trans. I didn’t believe her, I thought she was a cis girl setting me up for some cruel joke. But she wasn’t, Kate is just a sweet young woman who was assigned male at birth. Growing up with access to information and positive representation she was able to advocate for herself and avoid the trauma that would’ve come with a testosterone puberty and male expectations.

Being around Kate was shear agony. Nobody, and I mean nobody, misgendered or stared at Kate like a tranny. Here is a young woman living the life I should’ve had. The life I would’ve had, if I had access to less cruel representation. The technology existed when I was her age, I could’ve had this life.

I didn’t have to be a tranny.

Every interaction I had at this grad party was tainted with the fact that I was a tranny. Whether it’s people asking invasive questions; or being way too interested in me; or the classic “he—err, i mean she” pronoun fuck up; or when they smile at me like I’m a homeless man begging for change while they’re loaded with cash and have no intention of parting with a single dime. Even Kate’s interactions with me were because she saw that I was a tranny and wanted to come relate.

That’s not to say I didn’t have any fun, I got a free lunch and I had a couple interesting conversations. People are generally fun to be around and talk to even if I am the token tranny. But I couldn’t stay for long, while being a tranny is better than being a man, it’s still just so hard to bear.

Anyways… About That Slur

So what am I even trying to say with all these ramblings about my trauma? That not even passing transexuals are allowed to say tranny? That I’m the arbiter of who gets to say tranny? 

Well, yeah I am.

And also no I’m not.

I mean, I can’t control people and dictate what words they say or what they think. Whether it’s a bigot calling me a tranny freak on the street or one of my extended family members muttering it to themselves when I commit the unforgivable sin of being a little cringe in my 30s.

All I have is my judgement. Take Kate, I can say with quite a bit of certainty that the word tranny has hurt me and stunted my growth more than her. I don’t want to discount any bullying that she’s gone through. But she’s not going to have to go through the horror of watching her body go through changes that are just simply wrong for her. The horror of being held to male expectations and dissociating away her teens and 20s.

So if Kate ever dropped the t-slur around me, it better be in the context of something truly poignant. Anything less and I’ll get pissed. On the other hand, If I’m talking to another trans person of similar age and transition history then I’ll probably be the one to start spouting off “tranny this, tranny that” and end up getting called out.

So when I see people that are non-binary and attractive in the manner that is expected of their assigned gender at birth start talking about reclaiming the t-slur, I don’t want to associate with them. I don’t care if they’re technically “allowed” to say it. Whether or not I confront them about it they lose my respect.

But why should you care about my respect. In all seriousness, you probably don’t. I don’t have any kind of following. And well, I literally just admitted to using conventional attractiveness as one of the measures for whether or not someone can say tranny! I clearly have a lot of self-worth issues that I need to unpack. But it’s true, and if that makes you lose respect for me then so be it. But I suspect that a lot of people hold similar values, even if they don’t want to admit it. 

So, where does this leave us? I don’t know. I don’t have any real answers. I’m just some tranny, trying to figure out her life one day at a time. If you really want some kind of prescriptive advice, I’d say: read the room; say what you wanna say; and when (not if) you fuck up, listen to the people who are having feelings about it with empathy.

As for me, I think the real reason why this discourse is so touchy for me is because I want to eventually get to a point where it would be gauche for me to drop the t-slur. One of the few things that keeps me going right now is the fact that there are surgeries that can help me look less like a tranny.

I guess that’s what gets me about this discourse. It feels like there’s a contingency of people that just want a t-slur pass. When it’s a word I want so desperately to get rid of.

[ladyjustice700]

Self Observations (Transits/Natal Aspects)

-I’m a Pisces rising and all the guys i knew who had/have Virgo Mars opposite my ascendant, all wanted to either hit me intentionally/playfully or were sexually aggressive with me. 😕 (the Mars opposition ascendant synastry) im currently talking to a guy i like online and he always tells me to stfu or is very sexually verbally aggressive w me and also because we have romantic and hot aspects in our synastry. (i have it with my brother too and he’s always been abusive towards me or i always piss him off unintentionally and just by existing ☹️)

- i think i’m starting to live my sidereal chart now in my mid twenties because i’m acting more like my sidereal rising sign, i’m composed and cool most of the time despite the chaos going on in my life, (Aquarius rising) and i’ve gained alot of hate from relatives and my coworkers, i wear black all the time too to try to hide when i go out in public, and i’m more sexually active than ever-currently going thru my hoe phase, have alot of grudges and anger towards almost everyone (Scorpio MC)

-i have Saturn in Pisces transiting my first house rn and i notice i lost alot of hair and my feet itching or hurting alot, i also just picked up an additional job to make extra $$ because i had all these financial plans/goals set up, only to have my other job reduce my hrs (due to budget cuts, and because they found out i had another job, this is my Scorpio MC where i have struggles with my jobs) i’m so overwhelmingly stressed out with work, my family, financial problems and social life ( and Saturn is gonna be in Pisces for 3 yrs 🙁)

- the guy that i talk to online who has his Virgo Mars oppositing my ascendant at a very tight orb ? yea. i’m so IN LOVE with him 😭😣..unfortunately he’s a Libra hoe and i’m so afraid of his Scorpio moon,mercury, and venus ..(my dad is a Sag with Scorpio stellium and i don’t have a good relationship w him) i’ve learned people w these placements are very manipulative, take everything personally, vindictive, spiteful, unnecessarily petty, basically all evil sht ☹️

[hey-kae]

anon of the long rant here: i'm italian, i know the tifosi (or most of them) currently care more about charles than ferrari, bc he's literally the driver who brought back hope after years and the fact that ferrari is fucking him up every single weekend is just 🫠

my discourse about prost was to point out that people expecting charles to shit ferrari every single time won't change shit, but hell it could make his position even worse and i was honestly overjoyed he showed to be upset during his first interview (even tho he went into a more soft approach during fred's interview, but yeah we all agree what he said in the first one was what he honestly thought)

also the 2021 thing: the year of nee regulations being introduced for 2022, the cars already in the wind tunnel and it was clear that some teams were too sure of themselves already (mercedes). also starting from last year, but especially in 2023, red bull doesn't eat the tyres like AT all. i'd say what caused this is the fact that in 2021 everytime pirelli put out the different strategies and stints of the tyres the teams would complain they were too short. so sometimes they didn't listen on how long the tyres would last and that's what happened to verstappen in baku: they kept him out too long, the rear tyre exploded and he dnfed. red bull and somebody else complained to pirelli about this and it's very likely that pirelli was like "alright" and changed the hardness of each compound, up to where we are now. red bull in 2023 has a flawless car, but also i'd say that if you have an amazing car itself + harder compounds of tyres even when they're supposed to be softer you have te result for an unbeatable team (and driver). mercedes has been good with the tyres too and so some other teams (ferrari is struggling bc after years they still can't make good suspensions, so we won't consider them in this situation 💀)

(Saw this earlier but it was race start and i wanted to take time to actually understand so sorry for not replying then even though i was active)

Honestly, what us non-italians see in comment sections is enough to feel that charles is really loved and defended by tifosi so I can’t even imagine what’s it like being italian and actually seeing it hands-on.

But definitely, you have a point. Trash talking the team in the media won’t do him no good. I like that his approach is “what i say to the team stays between me an the team” but i’m just saying they sometimes need an earful from him like yesterday. Obviously, pushing it won’t put him a good position cause what team wants a driver that talks down about it openly? I’m totally not saying he should go crazy on them in his interviews but just stop blaming himself for things that everyone sees aren’t his fault cause i hate how people ridicule him over it. The discourse of him being too soft for a championship is just annoying to me.

And about 2021, what I’m understanding is pirelli kinda adjusted the tires more or less to suit rb? (not saying they did it on purpose tho cause I don’t know enough to claim that) I honestly don’t know much about that transition phase into the new regulations so I won’t say much about it but you’re definitely right that the rb doesn’t use up its tires but rarely while the ferrari snacks on them with mercedes being an in between. It just never occurred to me to think about that from Pirelli’s side instead of the teams’ side. Like to me i just always thought “ok rb built a car that maintains tires well while some other teams like ferrari or like has couldn’t”.

(Japan last year blew my mind with how charles’ inters looked at the end actually and it wasn’t even a full race)

I’ve also read complaints about the newer tire compounds so i guess you do have a point.

But just to clarify, I do have moments where I’m angry and trash talking ferrari on here, but really at the end of the day it’s because i love this team so much and i really want charles to be able to get at least a championship with them😭

[theancientmar1ner]

decided to post coherently about how i FEEL right now because it’s all really strange, and this is my public diary duh 🫶

I think this might be what you’d call a transitional phase? I don’t know where I’ll be in September, or what direction my life is really going in. A lot of things have changed recently and unfortunately it’s very much my fault (hate when that happens), and i made loads of bad decisions and hurt people i love in the process and now i’m dealing with the fallout of it now that i’m sober and coming back to myself a little bit. I’m not sure how I can describe how I feel except kind of astounded. I never really saw that in myself. I think i just took myself by surprise, and it’s making me rethink who I am entirely, at a time where I am already lonely and and in the dark and i have never felt so out of my depth.

anyways i keep telling myself i’m just growing up. i’m just growing up! i’m growing up.

[kerosenecrushh]

20 questions for fic writers!

Tagged by @sensitiveheartless (kind of, they left it open at the end to anyone who wanted to do it)

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

40, as of today!

2. What's your total ao3 word count?

79,131

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mainly Bungou Stray Dogs, but I occasionally write for My Hero Academia and Sk8 the Infinity as well.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

tastes like candy

raw

Kinktober Day 4: Praise Kink

Kinktober Day 3: Dirty Talk

wanna get out of here?

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yep, pretty much always! The only times I don’t are if someone leaves a one-word comment or I’m not sure how to respond lmao. I love when people show their appreciation for my writing, so I try to show that gratitude by replying!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I wouldn’t even necessarily classify it as angst, but the Fyolai Blood Play fic didn’t exactly end with aftercare and cuddles.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Pretty much all my fics have happy endings. I hate sad endings with a burning passion, so as a treat to myself, I just don’t write them!

8. Do you get hate on fic?

I haven’t so far, thankfully! I have had people comment vague stuff about being “traumatized” by my work, but that’s mainly people who didn’t expect to find smut, I think.

9. Do you write smut?

Yepppp haha, in fact I’ve only recently branched out to writing SFW stuff.

10. Do you write crossovers?

I haven’t yet, but I wouldn’t rule it out for the future. I just haven’t felt inspired to write one so far.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, but I have seen a fic that HEAVILY borrowed from one of mine. It pissed me off a bit, but I’ve come to terms with the fact that these things happen.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don’t think so. No one’s asked me if they could translate any of my fics, at least.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but I’m curious what that would be like. So far I’ve only ever worked alone in the writing process, so think it would be challenging to adjust to working alongside someone. Again, not something I’d rule out though!

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Man this is tough. Fun fact, I have a Pinterest board for ships with 26 subsections of specific ships, so there are plenty to choose from here. Soukoku and BakuDeku are ones I love to write and consume content for, but my favorite to actually write would probably be Ranpoe. They’re just so fluffy! I always feel better after writing a fic about them.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but probably won't?

There’s this one idea I had based on a BSD theory that ended up being wrong. It would essentially be a long multi-chapter fic where abilities were written out of existence, so the story restarts at the beginning and the characters all eventually find each other, even without abilities or past memories pushing them together. So, for instance, Kunikida would still be a math teacher; Atsushi would never have been kicked out of the orphanage; Yosano would (interestingly enough) be working at a candy shop; and so on. I don’t know that I’ll ever get around to writing it, since it’ll take a TON of research on the canon materials. I’ve started the planning phase but it truly is a mammoth of a fic. Link to my theory if you’re interested in the details.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think characterization is a strength of mine. I also typically have a first draft that’s like 95% ready to post, since I edit while writing. I usually do a quick read-through, change a word here or there, and post.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Non-character details (like setting). I get too caught up in the action! I can also be impatient with transitions between scenes, hence the massive amount of one-shots.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I’ve translated one word for a fic, but even that felt a bit cheesy when I did it. I try to avoid it, since there’s almost definitely native speakers out there cringing at literal translations and google translate errors in fics.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The first one I wrote for was Bungou Stray Dogs, and that remains the one I write for the most!

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Kinktober Day 31. It’s embarrassing to admit, but I must have read it at least 5 times now. I’m really proud of how it turned out.

Following @sensitiveheartless’s example, I hereby tag anyone who sees this and wants to do it! Have fun!