#If I could say one thing to my younger self
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𝕋𝕖𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕖
✞ synopsis: you've come back to the small town you grew up in for a visit. though your relationship with the catholic church and faith in general have been strained since you were younger, you find yourself drawn back to the church... or more specifically... the new priest... you aren't ready to share your secret sin with him... but you may not be able to help yourself.
✞ pairing: sylus x curvy fem!reader
✞ rating: 18+ (minors do not engage)
✞ cw: religion (catholicism), priest, lapsed faith, adultery, priest kink, suicidal mention, dead parent, sex, masturbation, drugs (marijuana), mentions of other drug use, drinking (more will be added when/if they arise)
✞ disclaimer: this fiction explores a romantic relationship between a lapsed Catholic and an unconventional priest. it is not designed to be inflammatory or critical. catholic authors were asked to participate in the process. we hope you enjoy it, but we know that these topics can be sensitive, so please skip this fiction if it will in any way offend you.
✞ chapter: 6 / ?
✞ co-authors: redbriony, confuseddoughnut (they do not have tumblr)
✞ ao3 link: here
✞ chapter synopsis: "the only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it." - oscar wilde
✞ index: chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5| chapter 6
Please comment on this post if you want to be added to the tag list for updates!
Despite what happened, you would have done anything to face Father Sylus again.
He was the type of person who radiated energy from within, dedication unlike anyone you had ever met - which could be a good or a bad thing. The thoughts became an obsession, all that seemed to fill your brain. The recollection of his touch made you sweat. It was the last thing you thought about before drifting off to sleep, the first thing you thought about when you woke, and the next few days stretched. One thing was sure: you longed to see him again, if only for the courage to apologize. But did you even have to apologize? He was the one who had kissed you first, right? It was so unbelievably confusing. You’d talk yourself through circles; for once, no amount of sleeping seemed to help. You weren’t even given the option to sleep it all off anyway or mellow properly in your self-pity. Upon learning of your ‘arrest’ from Talia, your father forced you out of the house that Sunday to go to church with him. “What’s going on with you, Y/N?” Dad raised his eyebrows and frowned as he gripped the steering wheel, and you could tell he was trying hard not to get angry or frustrated. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, hon. You came back, and you’re acting weird. Can you just tell me what’s wrong?” Shaking your head, you shrugged, trying your hardest to maintain eye contact on the door handle, ignoring your dad’s question and wishing he’d just leave you alone. “You went from being happy to totally distraught since you moved out. What am I supposed to think here, huh?” ‘Maybe everything went to total fucking shit,’ was what you wanted to say, and tried not to roll your eyes. Dad tried so hard to not act like the authoritarian or pushy father, especially after your mother had died. He was never like that. And it was because of that you figured it was time to be at least a little truthful. “I quit my job. I don’t know what I’m going to do from here, but -” you said, “I just…needed some time to think things through.” Your dad parked the car and turned to offer you a subtle smile. You were convincing enough, obviously. “Okay, fine. Work in the store until you figure it out. It’ll be like old times.” One hand gripped the steering wheel as he looked at you, almost seeming to peer into your brain as his eyes flicked ever so slightly. “So, uh, is this about your mom? I didn’t know you were still upset about that. I should’ve tried to talk to you more.” You bit down your reply, feeling a bitter taste in the back of your throat, and willing it away. “No, it isn’t. Just forget about it.” A long sigh filled the small space as your father pressed his lips together. “Christ, I can’t be mad at you right now. I’ve always let you do what you want.” This was strange, a particular ache settling inside and spreading to your limbs like an infection. Maybe it wouldn’t stop now that it had started. And the first instinct was to get away and run. Run and run and just get away. “Hon, Y/N,” Your Dad’s voice was pleading, and you nearly missed it. “We can go talk to -” “No!” You blurted, immediately regretting it, mortified at just the thought. How did you speak so fast? “No, it’s fine. Let’s just go inside. We’re gonna be late.”
You didn’t feel any better inside the church, but you weren’t expecting much to begin with. All you could do was suck it up and seat yourself beside your dad. It wasn’t crowded, but there were a few unfamiliar faces, so maybe not everyone would notice your fucked up mood.
Everything felt surreal. You were sitting there in church with the sun streaming through the stained glass windows, and your gaze landed on the one depicting the Virgin Mary.
The word ethereal came to mind.
Everything seemed like it would evaporate into thin air. Like if you moved too quickly, you’d wake up from one of those dreams that just turned out to be inside of another dream.
And when a hush fell over the congregation, you had no choice but to look forward. No matter how your brain fizzes or your fingers tingle. You were forced to look at that handsome face in front of the church and feel the emotion well inside you. Something that felt different than embarrassment or frustration.
Even from this distance, Father Sylus exudes that particular aura, daring to fill the whole church with its strength. You are once again reminded of how inescapable his presence is—not through belief or goodness, but something, someone who felt unearthly, even celestial, as absurd as it felt.
Ethereal. Once again, with that pretty word. How could you even begin to explain it? It was so easy to feel some sort of bitterness, perhaps even selfishness. Who could blame you? Everything always seemed too simple when you looked at it from a distance.
“Good morning,” He began, his voice taking on that strangely powerful, lilting cadence. He paused, hands clasping, and his posture was different. Shoulders broad, spine straight, chin lifted slightly. “I want to take a moment before we begin to discuss why we’re here.”
You were drawn to his words, which had formed an invisible link to you. Maybe if you closed your eyes like you did at night, you could picture that night in the car. It felt foolish because you were certain your own thoughts were desperate. How stupid did it make you seem, trying to replay the sensation? A stupid crush. That is all you wanted it to amount to, even if looking into his fiery gaze had made you feel like you were melting.
“We’re here, in the house of the Lord. Why is this?”
If a month’s insistence on chasing after a flame could be compared to anything -
“Free will.” His tone picked up. “Through our actions, we make conscious decisions. As far as humankind is concerned, free will also makes us human.”
Your breathing stilled. Something terrible seized your gut, a cramping feeling causing you to grit your teeth.
“This is a sanctified place,” he continued, voice rich and filled with energy. “Within these walls, you should experience peace. Not conflict or anger. All are free here because it is with our actions that we build ourselves.”
How the hell did he manage this? The words continued spilling from his mouth, something pulling you further. And after a pause, his gaze filtered over the room again - and landed on you.
Time was beginning to stand still, and you swore your face began to heat up. But, thankfully, the look didn’t linger on you, moving on as he cleared his throat.
Well, fuck.
There was only a tiny shift in expression, and perhaps you were the only one to notice how his pause seemed more lengthy than those before it.
"We - uh.” Father Sylus made a show of glancing down at the notes before him and shuffling a few pages. “Sorry.” He cleared his throat again, a little louder this time. “What I mean to say is, with free will, we struggle against our urges and temptations. Sin beckons - uh,” another loud cough. He looked nervous. Vulnerable. In more ways than one.
Father Sylus hastily pushed aside the pages, shoulders lifting in a deep breath before looking again at the people gathered. He straightened a little, and his powerful tone returned as he folded his hands neatly. “So, how do we resist? It can be hard to…admit one’s faults.” He let out a little huff of air, glancing down again. Then, he stepped away from the podium, stepping along the carpeted dais, hands clasped behind his back and thumbs tapping against each other.
The congregation started shifting. A glance here and there, unable to guess what he would say next. Probably wondering why their priest was acting so…off. If you weren’t glued to your seat in, well, any number of the emotions you were feeling now - you would have high-tailed it out of there already. But instead, you were frozen in place, feeling like an outsider, feeling the shift in the air more than the others around you.
“Take those feelings and multiply them by ten.” He stated, looking towards the back of the church at nothing in particular. It was as if he was somewhere only his mind knew.
“Opportunity is often just an invitation to sin, yes. Free will is a man’s greatest power but also his biggest weakness. With that power comes responsibility. Satan doesn’t come dressed in a red cape and pointy horns in the middle of the night.”
Oh God.
There was a tense pause and stillness, and you wonder how you managed to sit here and listen. Those crimson eyes trailed around the room, but for another second, a brief and terrifying second, they burned into you.
“Satan comes as everything you’ve ever wished for.” He laughed, bitter and slightly hoarse. Then his eyes snapped forward again, unabashed.
He coughed, cleared his throat again, and gestured with a finger above his head. “We all - well, we all think we can overcome any challenge. Big or small. Big and small.” Father Sylus let out a shaky exhale. “Um, the point is...The point is that the devil is ready to collect when you can’t. So, the point is that - uh,” His tone shifted to something smaller that made your insides tremble agonizingly. A breathless, tight sort of anxiousness that stole through your lungs and caused your heart rate to increase. It was impossible to deny that despite the words coming out of his mouth, you actually wanted to hear him continue. “Um, sometimes I think the hardest thing is that we are human, and we are weak.”
Before he could even continue, his voice cracked. “I’m sorry.” He swallowed, grimacing, an anguish that you recognized. “Excuse me.” He looked like he might break, the wavering tension almost stifling the room, his expression almost tormented.
“I’m sorry. Excuse me.” And with that, he disappeared into the back, leaving everyone shocked.
Everyone except for you.
“And that’s why I’m never going to church again.” You rolled your eyes as you leaned against one of the shelves in your dad’s store, looking over at Rafayel, who was leaning against the counter, making it his personal mission to get every last drop out of an iced coffee. “You should have seen the look on his face. What a fuck up.”
Rafayel wrinkled his nose, looked around the otherwise empty store, and then glanced at his phone. “Yikes. Poor guy.” He sighed and tapped his foot on the floor. “Talia came home and said he had a migraine - but it’s even more hilarious that a near-public breakdown was because of you.”
“My God, you are awful.” You frowned and stepped forward to lightly punch his arm, reaching out and catching his elbow with a grimace as he pretended to almost fall over. “That’s a horrible thing to say! You were the one who was practically encouraging me!”
“I would never,” Rafayel huffed, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. “Anyway, it’s been almost a week now. You’re gonna have to suck it up and face him sooner or later.” With a firm nod, he shook off your hold and dusted his hand on the faded denim of his jeans, turning his attention back to his phone and shaking the ice in the cup he held.
“How would I do that?” You asked.
As if oblivious, Rafayel arched a brow and smiled tightly, peering at you over the edge of his phone. His tone was less-than-reassuring, sounding almost pitying. “No fucking idea.”
You opened your mouth to argue but thought better of it as the shop door opened, just in time for the chilly afternoon to bring in your dad and Xavier. You took a deep breath at the sound of the bell and forced yourself to calm down.
As if on cue, Rafayel pushed himself away from the counter and looked in your direction. “Well, Y/N.” He said, tossing a wink in your direction that made you want to reach out and knock the silly grin off his face. “Good luck.” With that, he turned and walked out of the store with a shake of his head.
Your dad mumbled something under his breath before tossing a wave a little too late and heading into the back of the small building.
Unease had settled in your stomach at your friend's departure. You felt as if you had more to say, ask, or get a general idea of as you stared at the shop's door. You ran a hand over your tired face and sighed.
“Hi,” Xavier gave you a careful, controlled smile as you turned toward his voice. “Need help with anything?”
You tried your best not to fidget or bite your lip. “No, but it’s nice of you to offer.” You shrugged and glanced away briefly. “Why? Got nothing else to do?”
“Uh, I work here?” He blinked as he stepped forward. You could take in his softening facial features now that he was closer. His smile didn’t quite fade as he looked around the quiet shop. “Anyway - I um. I tried to call you last night? About dinner?”
Tilting your head in confusion, you froze. Then, you processed the sentence.
Dinner. Shit.
“Oh! My phone went missing. I’m sure it’ll turn up soon or something. Wasn’t the nicest phone anyways,” you brushed some hair behind your ear. “I still can’t figure out how it disappeared!” You forced a laugh at your lie and shifted uncomfortably.
You’d completely forgotten about agreeing to go out with him. How fucking stupid were you? So caught up in the idea of -
“Well, uh, I didn’t plan much. So it’s okay, we can just do something another night. Right?” Xavier suggested, and you couldn’t tell if he had let it go so quickly or was suspicious about your behavior.
Either way, you smiled, rationalizing with yourself for what felt like the millionth time that spending time with him would be a good thing. Any way to keep your mind distracted. Clearly, he still wanted to go out with you, and you certainly wouldn’t say no. After all, who could blame you for latching on anyone who showed the slightest interest?
This would be a step in the right direction, right? Things would get better. They had to. No matter how weird it felt for you to think so.
“That’s fine. Sorry, my head’s all over the place.”
The worst part of it all was the sudden weight in your stomach, the ache in your chest that was becoming all too tiring. Something pushed you in the complete opposite direction of the young man in front of you, towards what you really wanted, and had no explanation for why you did.
“Y/N?” Xavier spoke again and stepped closer, watching your expression with careful scrutiny, his hand reaching out to touch yours, giving you a new feeling of unease. “Hey, um, - you alright?”
Your heart wrenched a little at the worry, and you wondered exactly how pathetic you appeared. “I think so. Can you take over? I gotta step out for a while.”
It grew colder as you walked along the sidewalk, sticking your hands inside your jacket pockets. Clouds gathered in the distance, inching their way towards the suburb. The air smelled fresher, as if it might snow lightly sometime at night. A breeze swept over the street, stirring pieces of your hair from its confines, and you briefly thought you should have remembered your scarf.
Then, you came to a stop in front of the church.
You looked down at your outfit, the jeans and the oversized blue sweater you had found in your mom's closet, when you couldn’t be bothered to do your own laundry. Perhaps she would give you strength, or at least enough willpower from wherever she was to give you the courage to turn right the fuck around and go back home. She was always straightforward in that way, even without the drinking. If only you had taken after her in that aspect.
For a moment, you almost turned to leave, giving yourself the opportunity to simply walk away and go home. However, after a few seconds of mental debate, you stepped along the worn walkway and up the steps, slipping your hand out of your pocket to place it on the worn wooden door.
Somewhere in your mind was a glimmer of hope, the possibility of resolve.
Now that you had gathered whatever courage you had left, you took one last, bracing breath before pushing the door open. A jolt of energy speared up your arms, a buzzing sensation against your fingertips. Once you were inside, everything felt eerily silent. Almost too silent. But as the familiar warmth enveloped you, your body relaxed slightly as you shrugged off your jacket.
The last light from the day was casting through the windows, and the interior was a muted, golden glow and soft orange. It felt warm in more ways than one. Despite the hushed nature of the building, energy thrummed within you. The atmosphere was inviting, but for some reason, you couldn’t quite muster the ability to step forward any further, feet stuck to the floor beneath you. It was ironic, yet in a way, expected; you felt like crying or throwing something, but maybe punching Father Sylus would give you the most satisfaction.
The chapel seemed alien to you as you made your way further inside.
Loneliness was all-consuming, a fear ever present and threatening in the back of your mind. You wondered why it hurt so much. And, you considered whether you have ever experienced a real connection in your life. You zeroed in on the cross beyond the rows of pews as if you could use it for answers. It glinted a little in the evening light that filtered through the stained glass. Your eyes felt dry as they fixed upon the illuminated wood, searching, listening, walking towards the front of the church like a mouse.
“You think this is funny, don’t you?” You asked your question out loud. The silence of the building taunted you in return, and something constricted within your chest. The rush of it all was consuming, filling your every thought with hope and expectation. A breath sucked in, and you shook your head, blinking. Everything felt off, and you had no idea what your body was supposed to do with itself. “This is so fucked. You know, this is all…just so messed up,” you choked out the whisper and, with a small gasp, swallowed. The emotions swelled. Heavy and pounding and suddenly overwhelming.
Who gave a shit? Nothing would change.
But, maybe -
Would God be willing? Could He lift the spell put on you that would continue to grow?
“Mom is dead, and she’s not coming back.” The words spilled and dropped like shattered glass. “And, uh, it’s just like, that’s fucked up. Isn’t it? Please, it’s - well, I wish I knew, God damn it. Motherfucker!” You swore louder than you should have, not recognizing your own voice. A feeling that had no name gripped your heart. This was it. You were giving up. “Totally fucked up. And you go and make me do stupid shit? What kind of test is that?”
Only silence answered. You wondered how you should feel. As angry as you were, it felt strange to voice it. Finally, saying the words brought unusual comfort, and it was too easy to admit everything now. “Yeah, yeah. You should really apologize, God. Lord. Jesus. Whatever.”
“I’m sorry.” The voice that spoke back did not belong to you. Echoing off the walls and the stained glass, it sent a jolt up your spine, causing you to spin in its direction. Leaning against a doorframe was Father Sylus, looking down at the floor, that shameful expression resurfacing on his face. You witnessed the repentant facade as he lifted his head and looked at you.
It felt like a flood rushed through you, coursing, washing away the anger, seeping into every cell, and filling you with something new. Warm and soft, somehow breaking you apart as it passed. Something indecipherable but true.
Something almost wonderful and exhilarating.
He looked like something you could draw. That raw, exposed sort of aura.
That same warmth enveloped your heart, the comfort expanding across your chest. There was something profound and affectionate within his gaze and the sense that you had underestimated what was truly meant by the phrase ‘care and concern.’
It could have been a few seconds. Or minutes passed as you stood rooted to the spot. The beating of your heart seemed to echo in your ears. Blood pulsed through your veins, the silence around you growing louder.
“For what?” You were almost afraid to speak up.
“For whatever you’re feeling,” Father Sylus stated plainly. Then he straightened, and his look shifted, and for a split second, he stepped forward, only to pause with his fingers twitching at his sides. Maybe there was confusion flickering in his gaze. Or longing. But he still didn’t move from where he stood, as if unable to break the tension he had with himself. After a time, he studied your face and added, “For everything and for nothing.”
After a moment of thought, you shook your head. “That’s vague.”
“It’s all I’ve got.” Father Sylus ran a hand behind his neck, almost nervously, eyes shifting and gaze searching. Another pause lingered between you, and you blinked a few times. He opened and closed his mouth, finally settling on placing both his hands on his hips, inclining his head to look at the stained glass windows. “That…and guilt.”
His admission seemed weighted, and his voice was heavy. You watched him take a step forward, then hesitate.
In that second, there was a great leap in understanding. You understood that he would not look directly at you because it would break this sacred reverence between you and whatever else was going on within his mind.
Maybe it’d always been a game, and perhaps you knew deep down that this would be his next move. The inevitable, silent communication. Slowly, you folded your shaky arms over your chest. The look that flashed in his eyes made you shudder. With a new boldness, you swallowed and whispered: “Why are you telling me this?”
Exhaling hard, you weren’t sure whether to scream, laugh, or cry as you awaited your answer.
He swallowed, his dark gaze teeming like a fire in the low light, the red burning. His lip curled. “Because I feel like you can understand it. Why I feel this way.”
A sick urge, sharp and needy, had you crossing the space between you, the air shaking and trembling as he finally took another stride forward. Your eyes traced over his face. Deep and pained and beautiful. His chest heaved. A strange, bittersweet satisfaction filled you.
“I - I can’t stop thinking about -” you broke off, words quivering as you spoke. “Us. The other night - it keeps going through my head, what I said, and -” your voice was breaking again, the achy, miserable desperation settling in.
You could tell he was holding his breath, hands now clenched into fists, gaze searching and uncertain. “I didn’t mean to deceive you.” The words hung heavy as he stepped closer, finally closing the distance between you, tilting your chin, and forcing you to look at him. The grip held you firmly, though his eyes remained gentle and pleading. “I want nothing more than to pray - beg for your forgiveness. Try and restore whatever trust I’ve betrayed - but in all truth, God, I -”
Another thick swallow, and he paused, the corner of his mouth twisting. He squeezed your chin lightly as if in search of some answer. Then his hand fell to his side, his head turning to look at the cross behind the altar. Something burned beneath your ribs.
“What is it?” You whispered, trembling with the effort of not spilling all your unresolved thoughts. “Tell me - tell me something, anything, or - or -” You stopped yourself, feeling a little pathetic at not being able to formulate the proper words.
“My path was never exactly clear, but,” Father Sylus swallowed thickly, sounding more scared than ever. “Someone I loved when I was younger - she -” A long sigh escaped his lips. “We were each other's firsts and…We loved each other very much.” He exhaled again. His face creased into sadness, reminiscent and haunting. A sharp pain, almost. One that lingered from emotions held within. The truth was there, plain as day, naked, heartbroken, and fragile. “She died when she was eighteen.”
Pain squeezed at you mercilessly, tight and almost bone-crunching. You stepped closer, your brain slowly putting it all together, realization hitting. Then your bottom lip trembles as you reach out, taking hold of his hand and squeezing it. “I’m sorry,” you manage to say after a moment, “that must have been -” Another pause, trying to settle your lungs into a steadier breathing pattern.
He squeezed your hand, looking at you, catching your gaze and holding it, unwavering. “I went to her funeral in a church far bigger than this one with twice the congregation. And later that day, when they put her down into the ground, I listened to the Monsignor pray over her soul.” He looked away again, this time up at the beams in the ceiling. “And I really listened to what he was saying for the first time. And I don’t know why, I just suddenly felt…” He trailed off, and you moved your hand further up his arm, willing him to continue by pressing your fingertips gently into his forearm.
He smiled at the ceiling, faint and apologetic. “I felt at peace. Everything clicked into place. As stupid as that sounds. It was like something I couldn’t understand but needed. And, well,” he shrugged.
“At last, it finally made sense to me,” he muttered. “The power God holds over us was always right there.” Then he turned to face you, his fingers reaching and resting on your cheek, tracing the soft skin of your jaw. “And now, I stand before you - finding these feelings again, the first true connection I’ve felt in years. I don’t mean to doubt anything…but I don’t know how to...”
He let his voice drift off before tucking your hair behind your ear, movements tender. You wondered what he could see in your expression.
“How did she die?” You asked quietly as if the question would destroy something in the air, but you needed to ask it anyway.
The corners of his mouth trembled as he stroked his thumb along your jawline, offering you a small, grim smile. “She was mad at something, drank herself sick. Decided a joy ride on a motorcycle might be a good idea,” he turned his gaze to the ceiling again, and it finally hit you that he kept doing that as a trick to keep himself from crying. “She lost control and swerved, hit a wall head-on. Died on impact. Stupid girl with the dumbest ideas. She used to talk about seeing if the world curved or if the stars continued forever. She was funny and smart - but not as smart as she should have been. Her blood alcohol level came back three times the legal limit.”
“That’s horrible,” you breathed. The puzzle pieces were assembled together. A crash. Drunk. How similar it was to your mother. Only your mother hadn’t met death head-on. It was still one of those things that made you wonder; which would have been worse? The chance was so similar yet unique. Still, as Father Sylus spoke about it, you swore you felt the faint sorrow he must still carry within himself.
“Sylus, I’m -”
“Don’t be sorry.” He said, finally regaining a certain poise about his face, somehow managing to look warm even at this moment, smiling very softly.
At his words, you realized you were breathing harder than before, and it didn’t go unnoticed as he scanned your face. You didn’t know what was wrong with you; you felt an emotion you could no longer explain. He had experienced loss, same as you, just not in the same way.
Father Sylus let out a dry snort. “It’s not a happy memory, but something good comes from pain. Distrust to trust. Fear to courage. Hatred to love. To an extent, those things make you understand and appreciate everything.”
You nodded, unable to stop yourself from wrapping your arms around his middle, convincing yourself you would forget how to breathe if you didn’t. You embraced him because it felt like the right thing to do, the smoothness of his shirt beneath your fingertips. His hand ran up along your side until it rested on your neck's base, soft, gentle, and warm. He exhaled a little before resting his chin on the top of your head.
As he held you, you realized that this was what you had wanted. This was what you had really been aching for. Everything shifted again, changing, rushing with a tangle of nerves and dizziness. Nothing else would settle more easily than being cradled right there, where you could breathe him in.
“Hey, do you -” He leaned back, both hands cupping your face, tilting it to meet his own. It took him a moment to formulate his question. “I shouldn’t ask, but - do you still want me?”
Of course you did. More than anything.
But even then, you should have stepped away. Should have walked out without another word, back to whatever fucking regular life you thought you had. But with whatever strength you had left, you pushed everything aside and quietly said, “Yes.”
He had pressed you against the wooden door of the office, pinning you in place after dragging you in there and shutting the door. Not that you really had any intention of going anywhere. Not with his lips moving against yours, the desperation sending sparks along your skin. His tongue darted out, parting your lips and moving into your mouth. Hungry and forceful and tasting every inch.
“You know,” he said as he pulled back, taking a second to breathe, “It’s so hard to be good when you’re so…” He trailed off, leaving you to only imagine what he would say.
No, you had no words or any logical thoughts, really. Perhaps this was the closest thing to heaven you’d ever feel, surely. And Father Sylus ran his hands down your sides, slow and possessive, grabbing fistfuls of your sweater and bunching it up. Heat began spreading throughout your body as his fingertips crept underneath and stoked along the sensitive skin.
“Will you let me in?” He mumbled, his lips now on the underside of your jaw as his palms spanned across your stomach as if trying to map out every inch of exposed skin. The blood pounded in your veins, pulsing in rhythm with your heartbeat.
“If this is what it feels like to be tempted,” you mused, gasping as he sucked on the skin above your collarbone, gripping the front of his shirt. “I have already failed. Miserably.”
Letting out a hot breath that sounded an awful lot like laughter, he pulled away, a smile stretching across his lips, amused. “I suppose you really have,” he chuckled. His hands gripped your hips and spun you around so you were against his desk. Then he ducked down to press more kisses along your throat. The shivers returned as he lifted your sweater over your head, tossing it aside with another wicked grin. And for the first time, you noticed the hint of a dimple in the corner of his mouth.
After a moment, Father Sylus fumbled with the buttons of his shirt until that, too, was discarded, skin suddenly bare. The sight made you stop, observing for a moment. For the first time, your fingers reached out and touched the skin of his chest, moving over the muscles and across his stomach. You marveled at the way he flinched slightly, inhaling sharply at your touch.
Everything felt…hot, heavy, and inappropriate in the best way.
And before you knew it, his hands were running up along the bare skin of your stomach, a barely-there brush that made your breath hitch. Then his hands were behind your back, unhooking your bra as his lips found yours again, rough and fervent. As it was removed, there was not a second of delay before his hands cupped both of your breasts, squeezing and drawing his thumbs over your nipples.
“You’re so beautiful,” his hands shifted, fingers resting along the waistband of your jeans.
It was like every little action was becoming overwhelming, sending pulsing waves through every nerve, vein, and muscle. When he popped the button, slid the zipper, and slowly eased the jeans down, the pulsing only got stronger—dizzying with its intensity. It was challenging to focus on anything else that would make more sense. Your mind was clouded.
“Wait,” you breathed, sitting on the desk, pulling the clip from your hair and tossing it to the floor, the waves tumbling out. His hands never left you, still roaming over every little centimeter of you they could get access to, “I -”
It didn’t need to be said, whatever it was. Because a grin broke out across his lips. A bright, glorious grin as Father Sylus pressed another harsh kiss to your lips like he could swallow the words down.
Stepping closer, he maneuvered you onto your back, your legs dangling over the edge of the desk. The smooth, cool wood pressed against the length of your spine and shoulders as you heard something that sounded like a book fall somewhere behind you. He gripped the soft flesh of your thighs, blunt nails digging in. Breath hitching, your heart thumped at the roughness and passion of his movements. Something animalistic and unrestrained lay just beneath the surface, waiting, ready.
“Let me,” he urged quietly, fingers winding over the lace underwear, dragging them down the length of your legs. Fingers stroked up again, curling and caressing your inner thighs, one hand finally reaching the place where you were already desperate, soaking wet, and aching to be touched. Without hesitation, a digit dipped, sliding along your slick folds and slipping in easily. The motion made you bite down on your tongue as his other hand ran along the underside of your knee, urging your leg up and apart.
You felt the pad of his thumb gliding over the little bundle of nerves, back and forth in a way that made you groan.
“You are,” his voice was low, almost a growl, and his teasing continued. “So gorgeous, laying there. I can’t stop looking at you.” One finger became two. Slick and hot as they moved into you, each stroke moving deeper. All too suddenly, his lips were crashing down against yours, kissing you hard and desperately as if set on devouring you whole.
The only thing keeping you stable was grabbing his shoulder and his upper arm. The sudden rise of pressure rushed around you. His thumb slipped, pressing down a bit more on your clit, drawing another gasp from you, a sound that filled the room. Then he pulled his hand away, an invisible weight settling when the digits were gone, leaving you empty and still aching for more.
“I’m on birth control,” you managed, eyes blinking rapidly as you processed that this, in fact, was actually about to happen. The fullness beneath your belly was spooling tighter, coiling.
It was only a few seconds; that’s all it took for him to undo his belt buckle, his length freed. Straining, leaking, begging to be inside you. The size of it makes you swallow a certain anxious lump in your throat.
“Please.” The word spilled out before you could stop it. The coil inside you grew more and more tense and throbbing. You needed it now; the consequences didn’t matter, nor did the guilt or shame. “Please.”
His breathing hitched as if a long controlled flame within had been ignited. One of his hands rested on your hip, the other hooking under your opposite knee, parting you further and steadying himself. The tip of his cock pressed at your center. You didn’t have any time to prepare because, at that very moment, he was pushing further, sliding into you inch by inch.
The heat and fullness and pleasure coursed, trembling through you.
“Sweetheart,” he breathed, face buried in the crook of your neck, but you could hear the grin in his tone, the soft desperation in his voice. “You, you -” but his breath choked off as he pushed all the way inside, the moan that ripped through him cracked and hoarse.
It took you a moment to feel him fully, gasping for air and dazed beyond what was really necessary. Holding tight, you wrapped an arm around his neck, exhaling hard. The room became a haze around the two of you, the entire moment almost suspended, paused, put on hold.
When he moved his hips again, you whimpered as he hit somewhere deep, and your pleasure spiked.
“Fuck,” he whispered against your skin, raising himself just enough to look at you, eyes glinting with a certain fervor. A little dark, a little feral, something wildly possessive and hungry and yearning all at once. “Oh, fuck,” he hissed, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes. Another jolt shot through you. Another strong thrust, this one harder than the last, followed by another. And another. It took a minute for him to set a rhythm, but when he did - you were sure the air was being pushed from your lungs each time.
You couldn’t do anything but hang on. His mouth met yours in a sloppy, forceful kiss. Gasping and shuddering, you tried not to shout at the next jolt. The constant grind fills you every time. Deeper and sharper. The steady, thrumming pleasure. Intense and focused, as if Father Sylus were on a mission. Searching for something. Finding each sweet spot with whatever desperate greed drove him. Like now that he’d had the taste of something forbidden, he wanted the best of it - anything you could offer.
He shifted slightly, and before you knew it, he hooked your leg over his shoulder, the deep angle making you arch from the desk.
One hand tangled in his hair, the other on his shoulder, gripping hard and pulling him closer, trying to keep him buried deep inside of you. The friction built, the pace driving forward and drawing the pressure up, leaving you malleable and aching for release. But somehow, wanting it to last as long as possible.
When the pleasure spooled tighter and tighter, every breath came short, coming fast and shorter. Until finally with one long, breathy whimper of an exhale, release washed over you, crashing like a wave. His name slipped out of your mouth, some deep, instinctual part of your brain keeping you present enough to utter it, still pulsing around him, shaking.
And that brought him there, a little broken sound falling from his lips. Hips snapping, driving just the slightest bit further until he groaned into the side of your neck, spilling inside you. After a moment, the stillness settled between the two of you, heavy and thick. There was no actual sound other than ragged breathing.
You stared at the ceiling, trembling and a bit boneless, wholly dumbfounded and satisfied. Then, with every ounce of energy left, you sat up, placing a hand on his chest.
“You okay?”
A rush flooded through you at his question, and you struggled to make sense - to be logical and reasonable.
“Yeah,” you said quickly, “I just. I…” What was the right wording? You trailed off, eyes focused somewhere beyond him. Struggling, you kept your eyes away. How could you possibly articulate the warmth that had settled over you, the lift in your confusion that had been gnawing at you until this moment? How could you explain feelings that make no real sense?
“I feel at peace.” A near whisper because your words made it tangible, whatever it was. And really, you did feel lighter. It was as if something weighing on your shoulders had lifted in a way that wasn’t just because of the act that had been performed.
“Really?” A sharp inhale of his breath.
You nodded, reaching out to hold his face and running your thumbs along his cheekbones. Father Sylus slowly returned the nod, a tentative but wonderful, hopeful smile quirking up his lips—something bright and genuine, untouched by bitterness or remorse.
Serenity had sunken in with a comforting familiarity. Settling inside, like the feeling of returning home. Like the truth had opened its door. Acceptance and serenity. Understanding. Clarity, even. The knowledge you weren’t as broken or faulty as you thought.
A moment passed, no words spoken. Then, still breathless and maybe a bit disbelieving, Father Sylus reached out and traced a cross on your brow with his thumb.
“Did you just -” You blinked, a bit indignant as you huffed. “Did you just…bless me?”
He looked a bit sheepish, hands resting on your shoulders, thumbs rubbing gentle circles along your collarbone. “Guess I did.” With a slight chuckle, he leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on your forehead.
Tag list: @celestialforce, @readerxyourbabe, @babyx91
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30 Things To Make Life Unforgettable
Appreciating life is one of the things I´ve learned this year, small things, happy moments... All of them are valuable for who we are as well as who we will become. However, we are not conscious of what we have, all the feellings we are experimenting and the opportunities we are losing for doing other things (such as being on our phones 5+ hours). I hope this list helps you making life a little bit simpler.
Walking in the rain. In my city rains a lot, so I´m not going to propose you going to the beach, since I can´t (obv you can do it), we have to adapt ourselves to what we have, and rain is one of my favourite things, I used to hate it when I was younger tho.
Spend your day in a cozy cafe. Not only can you have a coffee, but you can also read, study and be productive. The bes part is that you are experimenting new things, being productive and having fun with a hot coffe/tea.
Put your phone away. Be present babe, this is all what we have, you want to live your life, don´t you? Then start doing it, of course you are not going to live advemtures everyday, but at least you can try it. :)
Learn new things. It will never be a waste of time knowledge.
Be more passionate and intense. Who cares if you are too much? It only matters what YOU want.
Trying new recipees. I didn´t use to be a big fan of cooking, but I tried it few months ago, and let me tell you, all I do naw are bisquits for people I care.
More museums, more art gallery. I´ve always wanted to give mysterious girl vibes (I´m a yapper but introverted at the same time) you can always try reading in a museum.
"For the plot" mindset. My friends and I sometimes play saying yes to almost everything, just to see hwo things develop. It´s very fun:)
Bucketlisting. In a world of consumerism no one can scape
Trying something new. I started dancing, and I feel so energetic.
Learning to be alone. I do have a post about it :) go check it after this one.
Candle+Sweater=Coziness. Scented candles, my bff in autumn/winter.
Book annotating. It helps focusing, you can go through your notes after it and in my opinion creates more powerful bonds with the story and you.
Old classic books. Culture girls are the hottest.
Cooking your own meals. It's such a simple and sweet act of self-care. You can also try making your own Jam or something.
Doing things that you enjoyed as a child. My favorites are horse riding, swimming, baking, and bubble baths.
Buying flowers for yourself. It doesn't have to be an expensive and fancy bouquet, just some pretty flowers for your room.
Doing your nails. I like red wine ones, makes me feel like a vampire!
Taking more Photos. You can also buy a cool vintage camera (I recommend looking on eBay!) to make it more aesthetically pleasing.
Trying crochet, knitting, or sewing. I'm trying to crochet a sweater for my dog right now, haha.
Planting a plant. I tried to plant an avocado, but it didn´t grow as i expected, although i´ll keep trying it
Making plans with your friends like going on a picnic. You could plan some themed picnics like cottagecore, homemade food from your culture, strawberries, and so on; also a great opportunity to take some pictures!
Do volunteer work. Tried it last year, it was so fun to learn new skills and meeting new people while trying to make world better.
Writing a diary. Writing down things that have happened and looking back at them feels really lovely to me.
Writing letters to your friends. Letters just feel more personal than text; you can also keep them as a memory.
Dressing in a way that makes you feel happy. Wearing outfits that make you feel confident will definitely make life better.
Petting stray cats. I love cats.
Starting to collect something. You could collect something small like jewelry or postcards!
Playing music in the background while doing stuff. I can't stop listening to the lofi girl stream on youtube, haha.
Going on gloomy walks in the Forrest. Name something more comforting. I will wait.
Please feel free to add more suggestions in the comments! <3
✩‧₊*:・love ya ・:*₊‧
#aesthetic#coquette#dream girl#girl blogger#it girl#pink blog#pink pilates princess#pinterest#that girl#green juice girl#self care#self healing#self worth#self love#self esteem#note to self#self improvement#being alone#things to do#mental health#mental heath support#health#health and wellness#glow up tips#beauty tips#tips#advice#beauty#autumn
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i've been very excited to post this but here are my ocs haha!! meet lune, cecilia, nox, and aster!
close ups, more info, and a more detailed relationship chart under the cut! this is gonna be a long post haha. there's also some more info about rowan!
cecilia's twin (he's the older twin) ((by two minutes. lol))
the type to go “here to here, i’ll buy it all”
he's got a temper
possessive, devoted, and jealous yandere
people think he's a tad bit insane (and he's self aware mostly,,)
gets into fights often
“want me to kill that guy for you?” (he’s serious btw)
he’s not nice lmao, but to you he is (in his own special way of course..!)
kind of like a cat who will proudly leave dead rats and leaves on your doorstep as a gift bc it thinks you can’t hunt for yourself
hates nox LMFAO
difficult to approach at first but once you get close he won’t ever let you go.
extroverted
LOUD. someone shut him up, this mf does NOT stop yapping bro
annoying as hell and he doesn’t know that lmao
if he absolutely has to, he’ll behave. but it's... odd
constantly needs to be doing something or he’ll get bored lol
has a bit of a sweet tooth (typical)
Bastard (not literally)
played the piano when he was younger with his sister, but he hated playing it
bad terms with his family except for cecilia
huge rebellious streak
shockingly will not kidnap you! everyone already knows you’re his, and he’s yours. and he won’t let anyone get in between you two. yay..!
hates it when you don’t pay attention to him (will absolutely start sulking too)
he’s impulsive but he’s not completely reckless
you probs shouldn’t trust him too much though he has good (????) intentions lol
seems silly (debatable really) but he’s dangerous.
half of the things he says sound like jokes but trust me, he means it. he’d do anything and everything for you, don’t forget!
shockingly pouty and whiny, only in front of you though
him and cecilia have matching bracelets from when they were younger which they both wear to this day
he’s oblivious as fuck, and an idiot
lune's twin (she's younger)
normal (somewhat) ((not really))
sweet and friendly
really likes giving gifts to people she cares about
jumps to conclusion and freaks out easily, but she’s subtle about it
constantly stressed (lune is her brother, so… i get it)
introverted (runs on a social battery)
says things without thinking sometimes
people pleaser
awkward as hell tbh, but it’s really not obvious because she’s good at putting on a front
kinda has the ”””””princely””””” persona (i didnt know how to describe that better lmao
has abandonment issues
girlfail tbh
hardworking
shes really protective of her loved ones
likes cute things
has issues with her family but still talks to them (lune does NOT)
on really good terms with lune, they’re very close (even though he’s a huge troublemaker that stresses the shit out of her) ((if he fucks around too much she’ll give him a good smack))
packs a good punch
SENSITIVE…
potential yandere? still not too sure if i’ll make her a fully fledged yan but she def has some of the traits lol
her and lune have matching bracelets from when they were younger! (she wears it everyday!)
she doesn’t mean to put on a front it just kinda happens automatically lmao
could kill someone... probably wouldnt tho
used to play the piano with lune, she still plays it now too (as a hobby)
cunning and annoying
def the type to kidnap you
oddly sweet (???)
but also ominous as hell
docile with the one he loves
isolating and manipulative yandere
dislikes lune
nice but you can tell he’s putting up a wall (with strangers and friends)
introverted
wouldn’t put stalking past him tbh
he’s the type that wants to know everything about you.
he has a tough time interacting with others. he feels awkward in social situations
the type to go to a party and spend the whole time petting the cat in the corner (he would not go to the party in the first place tho lmao)
he’s not misunderstood tho, he just can’t socialize and doesn’t really want to
grabs the end of your shirt in an awkward situation (its kinda cute)
takes time to open up, but when he falls for you, his love is so strong, it’s almost overwhelming. so just accept him, alright?
shittiest sleep schedule known to man, like srsly, what is bro doing
this man’s brain probs short circuits every 5 minutes LMFAO go to bed you idiot
really good with his words, very convincing
loves cats
hidden piercings
careful and patient
is really good at taking care of others (but he would only wanna take care of you) you’ll let him, won’t you?
startles easily lol
elf oc
ditzy and kind (to you)
bit of a mean streak (not to you!)
wants to appear princely in front of you
kinda stupid (a farce but not completely lol)
has a bit of a temper, but nothing too bad
clingy and cunning yandere
two faced
struggles with empathy (he tries, he’s not human, what’s he supposed to do!)
extroverted (?)
he’s really lonely
when he met you for the first time he was absolutely fascinated as he’s never interacted with a human being before!
BLUNT. he’s not used to convos… just give him some time!
at first it was simple curiosity, but that curiosity turned into something… deeper
he was completely alone before this, but now you’re here, and you’re going to stay, right?
is obsessed with the idea of you staying here with him forever, so why do you keep talking about going home? can’t you stay here?
but then you bring up the idea of him coming with you, well why didn’t you say that earlier! he's happy to come with you
It takes him some time to grasp certain concepts so please be patient with him, he’s not used to humans
he’s paranoid and hostile to other humans. it’s not fair, he wants all of your attention, so why is everyone trying to take you from him? he doesn’t like that everyone is getting in his way…
he’s terrified of bugs. will scream incredibly loudly if he sees one lol
he pulled you through a mirror, that’s how you ended up in his land
so if you wanna go back, just ask and he’ll take you!
gives you jewelry, expensive jewelry. (maybe he’s slipped on a ring before. haha. jk… unless..?)
prefers to stay inside your place because he really doesn’t like people who aren’t you lmao
don’t stray too far from him, okay? he’s always waiting for you
rowan (who i don't have a new drawing of rn </3 sorry!):
he absolutely hates not being a priority, so please don’t ignore him. please? he just wants you to love him.
clingy, devoted, and obsessive yandere
if you don’t reciprocate he might (unknowingly) try to guilt you into liking him back. will appear like a kicked puppy to really sell it (but it’s not an act lol he’s just like this)
at least his intentions are pure! (?????????) but is that better..?
if when (it will happen) you two end up together, he’ll give you the world if you’d asked for it
used to cut his own hair! :D (not great at it tho tbh)
very attentive and will work hard to keep you happy! just don’t forget that you’ll love only each other for the rest of your life. please don’t leave.
has tripped over nothing, will definitely happen again
here's the shitty relationship chart that i rushed </3 its very ugly im sorry HAHA
i really want to clarify that NONE of them will ever hurt you physically on purpose (they might have to pay up for emotional damages tho. they have your best interest in mind ig)
also i would say that they all share some traits like being clingy, devoted, possessive, obsessive, jealous, protective, and loyal. but if i specifically wrote it, it's probs just a bit more intense... just a bit,,, haha...
#num draws#oh hell yeah new tag time#lune posting#cecilia posting#nox posting#aster posting#rowan posting#technically lmao#yanderes#yandere oc#male yandere#yandere male#not tagging female yandere just yet </3#oc art#digital art#yandere#original character#i've been really excited to post this#i mean i know it might not get a huge response#but i really wanted to introduce them#and i do hope you like them!#i'm really bad at writing characters too so please be patient with me and hopefully i'll soon improve :]#if you have any questions about them at all PLEASE don't hesitate to ask#i would love to answer any questions!#i'm also nervous to be posting this haha... but its OKAY. im doing it#also i overused the SHIT out of the coloured text#ive never done it before i think i deserved to do it at least once HAHA#sorry that its super long btw </3#i might do actual profiles at some point too if anyone is interested :]#realized i accidentally added aster’s info twice 😭
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Me normally: Let people love what they love
Me, after a Test Match Special commentator expresses their belief that the new All Creatures Great and Small is somehow "better" than the 1978 version: This is pure insanity and TMS can no longer be trusted on anything, how can they even be trusted to know about cricket, do they have no TASTE
#Look it's fine that this show exists and people will watch it and like it and that's ok maybe it's just not for me#But that was like a statement purely designed to piss me off#There were lots of issues with the 1978 adaptation! I still vastly preferred the books any day!#And I actually initially had high hopes for the new one because they at least cast a Scot (albeit a Highlander not a Clydesider) as James#And the actors at least looked a little bit younger than Christopher Timothy and Robert Hardy#And thank god Helen actually sounds like she's a farmer's daughter and doesn't speak RP!#But from the half hour I've seen of it I've had to write off this new adaptation#For two major reasons#First of all there's Siegfried#Siegfried is one of the key central aspects of the vibe of the books and therefore key to any adaptation#Robert Hardy was too short and too old for the part but he lived and breathed the character#The twinkle in the eye bouncing off the walls and in and out of rooms followed by half a dozen dogs utterly full of life even when angry#But this new Siegfried is just sort of... Eeyore-esque; he comes into a room and you can see the flowers droop and the set turn grey#Siegfried was angry Siegfried was happy and the historical character he was based on was no stranger to melancholy#Since Donald Sinclair did commit suicide or rather self-euthanasia after Alf Wight and his own wife Audrey died#But this slow grumbly figure in the new adaptation is not Siegfried Farnon- the book character didn't grumble more often he exploded#And why did the adaptation give him a dead wife that's so weird? What could that possibly add to the source material?#And this brings me onto my second problem which is to do with women and age#Firstly I have no idea why they aged down Mrs Hall or at least made her look younger than a woman her age would have back then#But what really drove me mad was when Heriot goes out to see some old woman hill farmer in the episode I saw#And this woman is far too clean and young-looking and you can see that she's wearing 'natural' look make-up#And a perfect set of clothes that looked like they were straight out of the House of Bruar autumn collection catalogue#Say what you like about the 1978 adaptation but old women looked like old women regardless of whether or not they wore make-up#It may be that the better quality of television screens means that the 'natural look' shows up on screen more clearly than it would have#But natural look make-up was not really a thing in the 1930s and for old women Yorkshire hill farmers I doubt they'd have much on at all#They just don't seem to be capable of allowing people to look old and wrinkled and real or have bad teeth or unattractive clothes#And everything is far too tidy- everybody looks far too perfectly country and quaint#Anyway the moral of this story is of course that I always recommend reading the books because they're much better#than any tv adaptation; but if forced to choose at least the 1970s one felt real and yet didn't have to be grim either#Ok that's my rant over please do feel free to enjoy the show I just got annoyed because the opinion was expressed on TMS
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with respect to myself, this whole “i need to wait till i’m out of school to date,” “i need to wait till i’m more historically, politically, and culturally educated to date” is all bullshit. it’s the top surgery. that’s the holdup. they chop these tits off and i’m ready to go.
#for the record - i still think that those first two things are the WISEST course of action#but i’m just saying that i don’t think anyone could hold me back if the opportunity arises#because the top surgery thing is my real hangup#because that would be a LOT to go through with someone in a new relationship and i would rather Not#so it’s better to wait#and i have a feeling that MY confidence will increase a ton in the aftermath as well#i’ll FINALLY be able to dress how i want holy SHIT#no more needless layering and strategically shapeless flannels#thank GOD#and in the meantime i’ll just keep trying to learn as much as i can on the way there!#so that i’m as prepared as possible whenever the moment comes along#i’m really working on not being mean to myself about not knowing things#nobody comes into the world with this knowledge#and i was not given the resources growing up that encouraged me to learn these things#just because some people had parents or friends who introduced them to things when they were younger or grew up in cultural centers#doesn’t make them cooler or better than me#i am educating myself now and that is what is important#i enjoy learning and that is what is important#i WILL become my ideal self one day - i am getting better#i am not perfect - i am still fucking up a ton and insecure and stretching myself to the absolute limit#which is why it is probably NOT a good idea to date right now!!!!!!#but who knows… i’ll just go where the road takes me#and see how that works out
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In elementary school, I got picked on for …*checks notes*…
Calling my mom “momma”
Liking Hello Kitty
Watching Yo Gabba Gabba
Liking Dora The Explorer
Picking my nose
Wearing my hair in pigtails
Biting my nails
So in summary, I got bullied for…
….being a seven year old girl.
What the fuck.
#sometimes I wonder if I was overreacting to being bullied as a kid#if maybe some of it was justified at all in the sense that maybe I did deserve it#or that maybe I’m misremembering how it went#and then I remember that I was literally a little girl#I was talking to one of my coworkers a couple days ago and he was saying how much he loves Hello Kitty and#I didn’t even hesitate when I said that I loved her too#and the thing is it felt like my younger self was the one who said that and not me#she got excited to have an aquaintance who wouldn’t tease her for liking Hello Kitty#and she felt safe and excited to say it#and I know it was her because I feel as though I feel an overwhelming sense of embarrassment or shame#that had been bullied into me surrounding Hello Kitty#and other things I got made fun of for as a kid#but the admittance that I loved Hello Kitty for once held no shame or embarrassment#and I can only assume it was my younger self getting excited she could be interested in something without getting made fun of
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sometimes I think about writing and singing music not because I’m an incredible singer but because no one has my fucking voice, especially in popular music, and its disheartening to be born a girl, told you’ll only get girl roles or try to voice match other girls, or ‘sing with the girls’ and then only be able to match male voices because you’re a fuckin tenor and not anything higher. I can’t think of any girl Broadway roles I can hit all the notes on. Most songs I love I have to pitch down for myself or use falsetto for singing along to. It bothers me a lot less now because I’m an adult who’s more secure in myself but as a teen in kids musical theatre it FUCKED with me, BAD style. And I know for a fact that even now when I hear people with a voice like mine singing I get excited and immediately invested in their work because they’re like ME, finally, for once. A brother in this world of being afab and having the voice of a recently pubescent boy forever. Maybe I should be that brother too.
#Using randomly gendered words because that’s me now but hey#Regardless of if you were born afab and are a girl 100% or if you were born afab and are someone else#It STILL sucks to always be grouped along with ‘girls’ just because of your voice and realize#You CANT hit that. You can’t hit the mark for ‘girl’. You’ll never achieve that without like. Hrt#Just say THE VOCAL CLASS. Like. Sopranos sing with this. Tenors with this. Bass with this. Etc#Then it doesn’t hurt! But nooo instead they’re looking or ‘sing with the other girls’ and you fucking can’t#And it gives you a crisis at age 14#Anyway all I know is when other people who were assigned female at birth and aren’t on something they changes ones voice#and just happen to have born with the same deep ass voice as me. It makes me proud to hear them use it#Because not enough people do. It’s like we’re all collectively embarrassed or something#I see so many sad posts from teenagers posting their dream roles and the reason they won’t get it is ‘girl’#and it’s like. I remember being that kid. Never able to get a female lead because of my voice. Never able to get a male lead because of gir#Even though my voice and appearance could easily swing male. Nope! You’re GIRL. So you’re doomed to background forever :)#I got 1 lead role and it was when I was at my most feminine and was also for a villain that was a fat hag#I LOOOOVED playing her im aunt sponge forever. BUT. Never getting one again after that… showed me. Something#More gender blind casting and more songs just written for tenors please#doing just ONE of those things would probably solve the issue#But both please because I’m greedy and I want what I couldn’t have for every kid today#(And also me in the future in adult community theatre. Haven’t had time/too intimidated so far but I WILL go back)#And before anyone questions the language on this post. I STRUGGLED with how to word it#TERFs begone. I love trans people. I am nonbinary and some form of intersex (pcos).#I just word it this way because of like. Where we all start#Whether we stay GIRL girls or realize we’re somewhere in between. It crushes us either way to have the ‘wrong’ voice to do anything#Because it did me at first. And I’m otherwise GLAD to be confusing#I’ve come to love my deep voice it baffles others and they never know what to call me it really helps the whole ‘what am I’ presentation#But. In terms of certain things. Like being in theatre in the deep south#It certainly does not help and can be disheartening#Especially back when I was younger and more self conscious#lion’s lair
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heyyyyyy <3 <3 i feel terrible.
i had planned to stay off longer but i genuinely have had like three nervous breakdowns since i left bc right as i decided it was abt time i just chill for a little bit everything started happening all at once. so i came back to see my silly little internet friends, but like the second i logged back on some ppl were talking smack abt me sooooooooo... ya know. my day (two weeks) be so fine,, then BOOM my entire schedule fills up and i become hollow on the inside! (hey sorry like vent post n tags i need to get things out of my brain)
#spikes rambles#i was happy there for a minute too :<#heres what its looking like rn....#i have three weddings. one of which i am a bridesmaid for and was left to get my own dress#but i cant afford a nice dress that matches. so i have to make one my damn self. and in two weeks.#i have a graduation.. and a graduation party both for different ppl#even tho i had to push back my own graduation by a full year bc things were just not going as planned. and now everyone thinks im a failure#im volunteering to teach at a kids summer camp like thingy. i was supposed to have a partner but i was told that she actually#wants nothing to do with me and was forced into this but i was under the impression that we would be teaching TOGETHER#and not her being an assistant. so now i have to call her and be like heyyyyy what the fuck is going on i need to know the lesson plan#im also volunteering for a church summer thing. if i could i wouldnt be doing this but my self made mother figure asked me personally#to help and i cant say no to this. we get to hang out and i get to paint like murals and shit and we've been doing this together for years#i have to spend the weekend with my bio mother to go to a celtic festival thing bc my younger brother wants to go.#i'm having some pretty severe best friend problems which i am honestly not well equipped enough to deal with and its eating me away inside#summer has officially started here so that means 24/7 headaches and sensory problems. straight up category 5 autism moments#i had to pick up the slack and become a paternal figure to my youngest brother. which is just sad that i have to at all#my dear beloved friend is trying very hard to make a young adult like hangout (???) thing in own town and really wants me to go#but i just dont wanna. i dont really care for social gatherings#hey guys btw all this has happened or was planned for next month in the two weeks i was gone#what the fuck.
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So my life is feeling like its on an upward swing since this is my final semester for my associates, I'm starting a new job real soon and also possibly have a really nice remote job if I hear back from a few places I recently applied to.
And it always terrifies me when good stuff starts happening.
Change is really hard for me especially when it feels like its all at once. With better pay comes the opportunity to leave my parent's house finally and move in with a girl who has lovingly stolen my heart. With my school behind me I can find better jobs even!
But at the same time, its just. So scary for me. What if I can't keep up my part of rent. What if my chronic pain or ADHD or other disabilities put a strain on someone I love to my core, and I end up making things worse because I get extremely emotional and will scream (at myself mostly) and panic during these high stress times (especially if money is involved)
I've had a 'safety net' of family members who barely tolerate the fake me I present myself as, and I know my mental health is going to be so much better when I'm not around them, but at the same time I need so much help sometimes. Family just happens to help in terms of shelter and food. It also doesn't help that the one other time I moved out it ended so so poorly that I'm still working through that trauma.
Hurting the love of my life in any way fucking terrifies me. I want nothing but the best for her always always always. I just know I can't always be at my best, its impossible to be. I will break at some point and probably scream and cry about how things aren't going nearly to plan and I'm so weak so often I don't know if I can pull myself together fast enough to not hurt myself or her with my untrue words.
#I used to have (What I'm pretty sure now were autism) meltdowns so bad when I was younger.#I was always told I was selfish and that I can't expect to have x thing or y thing fixed#And I would scream and slam my hands against my legs and the ground#Its never been pretty#I just learned to cry before it gets to that point now and I just sob so fucking much#But if it feels like my life is over? I just. I just can't. I'll still scream and cry and pulp my legs bruised and hands bleeding#And showing my wife all of me includes all of these things I hate. This could happen if I move in with her#I haven't had a meltdown in a while from what I remember#It was probably right after I moved back in with my parents. And was pretty much coerced into an environment I felt extremely unsafe in.#tw self harm#jic cause I have mentioned beating myself#I haven't been close to a meltdown around my love at all tbh so maybe I'm scared for no reason. I mostly just cry because#Thats what happens when any emotion runs high#<- Girl who is currently crying typing all thid#also I hope no one reads hurting her as physically. I've never thrown a punch in my life. Well. I guess except at myself#Huh thats the first time I've thought of it that way. That sucks#I just know that 1. Being loud in general would not be nice to either of us. and 2. I can be a bitch! I can say some rancid shit!#And that would! Be fucking bad and hurt! And I so desperately don't want that#And I know accidentally hurting someone is something you need to expect when you're in a close relationship with someone#It still fucking sucks though#AUGH I just needed to type this all out I'n feeling better already. I'm just a scared girl so often.#I want to live more and more each day so I know I'll make it. Even if I do it scared. I guess I hope you see this honey#Since this is stuff I should be talking about with you#Getting my thoughts sorted though before talking is good though. The reason I type this on fucking tumblr is because it helps me think#Also being vulnerable and letting friends and mutuals and the like see all this is a chance for me to better myself I suppose#This has been a runa rant#runa diary#I have a habit of overthinking. Methinks#Honestly my current safety net of family has been pretty fucking bad#The one time I earned a little bit more money than I needed for bills I was basically stripped of a lot of it paying my folks rent
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we have a guest speaker in math class to talk to us about coping w stress as if this class isn’t the reason i felt like shitting myself this morning😭😭
#chant 𖦹 d’oiseau#‘what r things that stress u?’ THIS FUCKING CLASS THIS CLASS BRUH LET ME OUT OF HERE#I WANNA CRY CZ I GOTTA DO A STUPID FUCKING ONE ON ONE TALK WITH MY MATH TEACHER AFTER THIS SHIT AND SHE’S GONNA TEST ME ON SHIT#on the fuxking spot too. it’s like girl is it not enough that i finished ur fucking stupid assignment that made no sense#there’s literally videos there of me doing each fucking question too and i explain it while doing it#teachers who are like ‘i don’t wanna stress u guys’ then continue to fucking stress u the fuck out should burn i hare them#i js wanna watch the brazil vs switerland match#football is unfortunately my current hf if that’s not obvious and within the past week i’ve memorized most leagues and the teams within them#most players in these leagues. at least the notable ones. and it’s encouraged me to get back into football because growing up i really had —#— a talent for it but then my mental health came in and ruined everything#i was too anxious to do shit anymore so that’s such an L tbh but this isn’t meant to be depressing vent or anything i js wanna say i love fb#ive watched the wc and fb like since the day i popped out of the womb and i rmb the first wc i could rmb#i cheered for argentina so hard but got so upset when they were knocked out by brazil. now i’m cheering for brazil (argentina on the side)#so i feel like a trader to my younger self😭 little me would surely NOT appreciate me cheering for brazil#sk vs ghana was crazy cz i didn’t expect sk to comeback like that in the second half but it’s sad they didn’t tie. good game nonetheless#i’m so mad at team canada ngl cz we had good players but our defense was invisible😭 it doesn’t matter how good our midfielders or strikers r#as long as our def is shitty our team is shitty😭 that’s like building a house on poor foundation#it won’t last long and it’ll cause problems😭 davies goal was such a W and we have so many players from great clubs but i feel like—#— wasted them. i could go on and on and on and on about football#different teams. leagues. who fucked up by doing what😭 speaking of which… mexico’s fuckinf coach set them up idc#i rlly wanted to see lainez play. he’s a fucking game changer but mexico’s coach was like ‘how do i set us up…’ 😭#mexico was robbed by their own coach.. canada was robbed in the canada vs belgium match jts crazy 😭😭😭
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told myself to take a break from getaway car so i don't burn myself out like i did last year, and of course my brain wanted to go think about my scarlet/violet fic, sooo have some rambling below the read more
like. one of my ideas has always been that i want juliana specifically to have quaxly not just bc he's my favorite starter in that region, but because it turns into quaquaval, a pokemon that is supposed to be known for its dancing abilities. i like to think they're a pokemon that only needs to see a dance once or twice before they've got it memorized.
i love the idea that a huge part of juliana's overall character arc is admitting to herself how much she wants to learn how to dance in some way because of course she happened to pick the pokemon that loves to dance. so she's basically learning alongside her pokemon throughout his evolution stages, mutually gaining more confidence until he's a fully grown quaquaval.
and!! not just him, but probably the three friends as well! it may not be something any of them are really interested in to begin with, but juliana and quaquaval make it a ton of fun. she probably even takes the time to learn an individual dance of some kind with each of them, and is the first to drag anyone to any festivals happening in the cities and towns.
(bc i am who i am) nemona's the first friend juliana ends up dancing with. while juliana quickly realizes how much quaxly likes music, nemona is the one who tells her about how he's going to turn into a pokemon that loves to dance. she mostly just enjoys having fun with them and learning whatever juliana is into. something that really helps juliana come out of her shell, which leads her to opening up to arven and penny around the same time
not 100% sure of styles apart yet but i mean...penny's has to be some nerd dance lol. i also kinda love the idea of arven learning a very formal spanish style dance with them.
idk i just want the core pillars of this story to be something along the lines of, music, song, food, and dance are all forms of love and connection and can be healing and--- AH i just want them to have time to really develop as a friend group throughout the treasure hunt.
#look my therapist has been saying this about me since the very beginning but i think i'm only just now really accepting it#writing is my therapy#i've seen so many posts saying you don't have to write as therapy / you don't have to write from experience / most people don't do that etc#i dunno. i internalized it all in a weird dumb way#the old bs take of 'if you share your trauma stories you're clearly trying to trigger other people and so ur just as bad'-#-was also stuck in my head#all of that to say i'm excited to work on this story one day since it's written entirely for my younger self#i can't change any of the bad things that happened to us in the past but we can live a little vicariously through fictional characters#let juliana have the friends and the love and support we never felt like we truly had#let my younger self who was traumatized by my mom's dance studio know that dance isn't a bad thing#it's weirdly healing and having fun is so much more important than being good at it#not everything you do has to be with the endgoal of turning it into a career or something that makes you money#at the end of the day i'm writing for me#the fact that other people have read my work and liked it is the biggest bonus i could ever ask for#writing tag
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It’s almost 6 a.m and I can’t sleep because I’m being plagued by thoughts of The Latest OC
#Kat and Nia and their multiverse of madness#Jia is genuinely making me lose my mind#right now the aftermath interests me a bit more because I live for emotional whump and angst#just.. imagine being her parents#you beg for your daughter’s life and your plea is listened to. she’s released. having proved herself useless. you barely recognise her#she’s nothing like the upbeat and cheerful girl you raised who loved working in this palace. who loved her lady#she’s so thin. hollow cheeks and empty eyes. she barely reacts to anything but Lord Jusamah’s voice which makes her flinch#you’re afraid to even hug her in case she disappears like a ghost would. something is very very wrong with her#you remember the rumours that she was tortured for the information. she looks like she’s starving#it’s clear she was hurt. she wouldn’t act like this if she wasn’t. you’re scared to think of what is hidden beneath her clothes#you want to lunge at Lord Jusamah and strangle him with your bare hands. inflict everything he’s done to your daughter on him tenfold#but you can’t. he’s rich and you aren’t. he has power and you don’t. if you try.. none of you are seeing the sun ever again#you barely care. it would be worth it. but you have two other children to worry about. and Jia deserves her freedom#so all you can do is drop to your knees. press your forehead to the floor. and thank him for his kindness#you tell Jia that you’re taking her home. alertness returns to her for but a moment#‘home?’ her whisper sounds so sad. so broken. you can barely stand it#you rush home as fast as you can. she’s so skittish it hurts. she feels the sun on her face and doesn’t move for a good 10 minutes#you can’t bring yourself to say anything. one of you goes ahead to warn the family so the children won’t crowd her#you finally make it to your house and Jia looks at it as if it was a mirage. she touches the wall to ensure it’s real#the first thing you do is help her take a bath. the sight of her back fuels you with bloodlust. there’s no untouched spot on it#your sweet gentle girl was whipped until criss crossing scars covered every last inch. it must have been hell#you bandage her wounds and take her to eat. she gorges herself on it as if someone would take it away. some light returns to her eyes#she always had a good appetite. at least that didn’t change. after lunch you let her sleep in your own bed#instead of making her share with her siblings and cousins. she needs space. she passes out the second her head hits the pillow#you stay and keep watch. and when the first night terror occurs. you’re ready. her screams are impossibly loud#you wake her. calm her down and hold her hand as she falls back asleep. recovery won’t be an easy road#but you walk it anyway. and with time. she gets better. she returns to her old self. only some traces of that horror remain#she’s happy again. smiles a lot. helps out. plays with the younger kids. she’s the Jia you know and love#she has nightmares. her scars hurt. no one touches her back. she’s paranoid about food. but she’ll be okay. you’re sure of it#(I reached the tag limit again but at least I said all I had in mind. but I could probably ramble on about this for ages…)
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hate when people i work with ask me my age and don't accept the vague answer of 'im old' bc i dont want to lie bc why? cause when i do sheepishly give my age you can pinpoint the exact moment their opinion of me changes from 'quiet, harmless weirdo who's more or less polite' to 'dorkass loser to avoid at all costs'
and that's definitely good for the ol self esteem
#nothing like my self hating tendencies being validated by others :))))#not like i can explain to them 'ive been suicidally depressed for like 2 decades maybe more so existing is just hard#and then also i spent the decade prior to jumping between failing out of school for reasons i dont even know#*prior to covid#and taking care of young or old and dying family members#one of whom sucked ass and i hate and wont get into more detail about rn. but yeah. thats why im 32 and a low level retail drone'#cant say that shit to polite acquaintances#i could lie about my age i guess. save myself the pain#but then it's like. why? what purpose does lying serve?#i pass for much younger apparently so i guess i get the surprise..but also. this sucks#idk. im kind of in a weird area age wise at work#most of my fellow low level employees are like a decade+ younger than me#or about the same the other way#the only people in my age range seem to be the higher ups#it sucks. this whole thing sucks#i suck#hate this shit#i should be doing so much better rn#i know thats what people think of me if they know how old i am#next time this happens im gonna be like 'dont worry im well aware how pathetic i am'#ntac about my bullshit#to the void with love
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Genuinely i cant stand npd people on here because they will literally ALWAYS say some shit like "well *I* wasnt the one who abused you so why should I be thrown under the bus because of your personal experience with npd abuse"
(ironic that this always happens to be on posts of others talking about their own abusive experiences with npd people, unprompted)
Like yknow you *could* say that if someone just happened to meet one or two awful npd people
But ive dealt with like 13+ npd people in my life, extensively and its just a LITTLE WEIRD
how they all ended up being the most god awful people ive ever met. I WISH i could say there was One who wasn't but i literally can't. These bitches were all walking black holes thatd take over your life the moment you let your fucking guard down. My quality of life literally improved by wide margins every time i disconnected from these friends/relatives 🤣
#i cant even talk to my dad more than once in a long while because hes the same fucking way and still does the same bullshit with my younger#sibling#if i talked to him more than that id forget why the fuck i even bothered to try in the first place#never good enough unless im exactly like him/actually him kinda bullshit#its gotten fucking old#it wasnt even until getting extensive therapy myself that i finally realized what the hell the link was between the specific type of abuse#i went through and what kind of people i was stuck being around growing up#anyways yeah do i wish my abusers would die? no#but i wish they went to therapy instead of keeping that npd unchecked and taking it out on me LMFAO#yall dont even get it. its one thing to have a friend thats like self centered or obtuse when handling others feelings or just being#generally not a good friend#its ANOTHER SPECIFIC KIND OF HELL WHEN A NPD PERSON DECIDES ITS GONNA BE *YOUUUUUUUU*#you can try to confront them about it but its going fucking nowhere theyre not even gonna say sorry#YOU COULD RECORD THEM AND ITS GONNA BE AN ARGUMENT ABOUT HOW YOURE TREATING THEM RATHER THAN THE ACTUAL OFFENSE YOU CAPTURED ON CAMERA#yall dont wanna talk about the nitty gritty of what it fucking means to deal with npd folks#it means putting in SO MUCH MORE than you'll ever fucking get back
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[ID: A priest in a confession booth looking shocked]
#id added#both are equally shit probably. only saw my dad once a year ish tho and i see ppl talking abt shit moms less often so :#tw shitty parenting. def neglectful. probably counts as abusive idfk. also self harm.#my mother was extremely emotionally neglectful. she started refusing to hug me when i was like.. 12 ? bc she decided i was a problem child#and bc she was always 'mad' at me but she never specified why. she wouldnt budge on it even when i borderline begged#she is constantly saying ableist sanist shit to me. like calling me a psychopath. insane. autistic (as an insult) n telling me i deserve#to be locked up in prison or the 'crazy hospital'#literally came to laugh in my face when she heard some info abt depression on the radio bc it sounded like me#when i ended up in the er bc of sh she yelled at me for months. told me i traumatized her. wasted her money.#she looked though some personal journal notes abt the experience then tried to blackmail me. threatened to keep me from going to uni#she still doesnt believe im mentally ill. not after ALL THAT.#she doesnt hit me but she throws things at me sometimes. she once threatened to give me a concussion so she could be arrested and taken awa#bc she said that would be a break from me#she said all the years she spent raising me were a waste of her life#she once accused me of trying to break her arm bc i was afraid and pushed the door shut hard ig#she talks shit about me to my relatives on the phone. loudly. she makes sure i can hear on purpose. sometimes shell live commentate to them#when im just walking past her to go the bathroom or smthg. shell make shit up like saying im glaring at her#she has criticized every single inch of my existence. the way i talk. tone. word choice. facial expressions. body language. body.#it got to the point where if she entered the room i would go stock still and stock silent. hurry to cover every offending part of my body.#she hated that too#she made fun of me for crying in our arguments when i was younger so i lost that ability for years. she always called me oversensitive#then a few years later shed call Herself sensitive and tear up after some of the worse fights and then cry to her mom about it for sympathy#she has looked through my trash and gotten mad abt the things she found there. like a single one dollar snack wrapper bc thats wasting mone#we were not by Any means poor. we even owned the house we lived in. but she was stingy to the point of absurdity.#we lived in a house w broken appliances for YEARS bc she refused to find a repairman or to replace the objects (AGAIN WE COULD AFFORD THIS)#aircon. lightbulbs. sinks. water filter. the FUCKING WASHING MACHINE. THE GODDAM TOILETS. etc etc etc#there was no laundromat nearby and i wasnt given any money so i wouldnt have been able to use one anyway. it was allll handwashing.#tbf she did it all. but then she would endlessly complain. when i told her to replace the washing machine she told me to shut up#she also told me i should be grateful i didnt have to pee in a hole in the ground like in Some Countries when i told her to fix the toilet#bc of mental illness (and bc the bathroom door DIDNT FKIN LOCK OR EVEN CLOSE PROPERLY and i was v uncomfortable) i had a really hard time
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Before starting T, when I socially transitionned, I was surrounded by radical feminists who saw masculinity as gross and inherently evil, something to avoid, something to make fun of, something to destroy. The other transmascs in my friend group, sometimes, told me that they didn’t knew if they really were non-binary or if they just were scared shitless of saying “I am a man”. Because they saw this as a betrayal to their younger self who had been SAd and abused.
I saw many of my masc friends and trans men around me hate themselves, not outing themselves as men because it would imply so so much, it was like opening the Pandora Box. Even when we were just together, talking about our masculinity was always coated with bits like “I know we’re the privileged ones but…”, “I don’t want to sound like I have it bad but…”, “Women obviously have it worse, but last time…” and we were talking about terrible traumas we experienced while taking all the precautions in the world in the case the walls were a crowd of people in disguise waiting to get us if we didn’t downplay the violence we faced, or like crying and being upset and being traumatized and afraid and scared and to say it out loud would make us throw up the needles we were forced to swallow every second of every day living in our skin.
Most of us weren’t on T yet, some of us were catcalled every day and harassed in the streets or in abusive relationships nobody seemed to care to help them get out of because they were “strong enough” to do it by themselves.
I was using the gender swap face app and cried for ours when I saw my father looking back at me through the screen. The idea of transforming, of shedding into a body that would deprive me of love, tenderness, and safety, was absolutely terrifying. I knew I couldn’t stay in this body any longer because it wasn’t mine, but I also knew that if I was going to look like my dad, my brother, my abusers, it would be so much worse.
5 years later and I’m almost 2 years on T, and almost 2 months post top surgery.
I ditched my previous group of friends. I was bullied out of my local trans community. But let me tell you how free I am.
I was scared that T would break my singing voice: it made it sound more alive than ever.
I was scared that T would make me less attractive: it made me find myself hot for the first time in my life.
I was scared that T would make me gain weight: it did. But the weight I put on is not the weight I used to put on by binging and eating my body until I forgot that it even existed. It’s the weight of my body belonging to me, little by little. The wolf hunger for life.
I won’t tell you the same story I see everywhere, the one that goes “I started going to the gym 8 times a week, I put on some muscles, I started a diet and now I look like an action film actor”, in fact if you took pictures of me from 5 years ago vs now I’d just have more acne, I’d have longer hair and still look like I don’t know what to do with myself when I take selfies.
But the sparkle in my eyes, my smile, tell the whole story way better than this long ass stream of words could ever.
I want to say some things that I wish someone told me before starting medically transitionning.
It’s okay to take your time. It’s your body, it’s your journey, if you don’t feel comfortable taking full doses and want to go slow, the only voice you need to listen to is your own. Do what feels right.
If you feel overwhelmed, it’s okay to take a break, it’s okay to ask for support.
Trans people are holy. Everyone is. You didn’t lose your angel wings when you came out because you want to be masculine. You are not excluded from the joy of existence, from being proud of yourself, from being sad, from being scared, from being angry. The emotions and feelings you allowed yourself to feel while processing what you experienced when you grew up as a girl and was seen as a woman are still as valid as before. Nobody can take that from you. If someone tries to, don’t let them.
It’s perfectly normal to grieve some things you were and had before you started to transition, like your high soprano voice or even your chest. Hatching is painful. You can find comfort in things that don’t feel right, so making the decision to change can be incredibly scary and weird and you deserve to be heard and supported through this. Wanting top surgery doesn’t make the surgery less intense, less terrifying, less painful to recover from. When it becomes too much you have the right to take a break and take some deep breaths before going on.
You don’t have to have a radical, 180° change for your transition to be acceptable or valid or worthy of praise. Look at how far you’ve come already. It doesn’t have to show, you’re not made to be a spectacle, you’re human and it is your journey.
Oh, and last thing, you know when some people say “Oh this trans person has to grow out of the cringy phase where you think that you can write essays about being trans or transitionning or just their experience because it’s weird” ? If you ever hear this or see this online, remember all the people whose writing you read and, even if they were not professional writers, helped you more than any theorists did ? If you want to write, do it. It won’t be a waste. It can help people. Or it won’t, and even then, if it helped you, that’s enough.
Love every of my trans siblings, take care of yourselves. You deserve the world.
#ftm#ftx#genderqueer#transgender#lgbtqiaplus#lgbtqia#queer#trans#trans man#transmasc#trans masculinity#transmasculine#queer masculinty#trans men#trans writing#trans writers#trans pride#transblr#queer writers#queer artist#queer community#queer pride#lgbtq#non binary#genderfluid#lgbtq community#enby#enby pride#trans nonbinary#gor3sigil.txt
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