#i was the only femme but i also won at arm wrestling

[gandreida]

a few weeks ago I gave my phone number that id embroidered onto some scrap to a banjo player and she never texted me but last friday i met a mandolin player and she invited me out last night and shes fucking dating the banjo player

[a-shakespearean-in-paris]

Favorite Passages of 2020

thought I’d start a new tag for writers for the end of the year--favorite lines/ passages written. There might be a tag like this already but hey I felt like taking a trip down memory lane. I feel like this year has seen me grow a lot. I finished 3 WIPs from 3 different fandoms and decided to make a part 2 of a previously finished fic. What a year, what a year, am I right? Fic writing has certainly made the days easier, made me happy and taken my mind off of situations. 

Obviously the year isn’t over yet maybe something will overtake this, but I felt like taking a trip through memory lane. Also, number five has some light smut.

tagging @laraslandlockedblues @ma-sulevin @kemvee @galadrieljones @thevikingwoman @jentrevellan @wardenari @roguelioness @idrelle @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold @queen-kass-the-writer @ellenembee

1. Only Lovers, Resident Evil, Leon S. Kennedy x Ada Wong

She laughs to herself. One moment, they told each other last night. And this is it. They were fools. They’re still fools. Happy, sated, blissful fools. And lovers.

And yet, it’d be cruel not to tell him, to let him live in an illusion. 

“You don’t love me,” she whispers. “you love the me you think about when you’re lonely.” 

“Not lonely now.” 

He glances at her with a mischievous, knowing look. “Neither am I,” she tells him, and she even plays the part, tells him she loves him too. They’re only lovers now, after all. 

“You didn’t have to say that,” he says. “I know what’s true.”

“Then what’s true?” 

He rises, faces her. He cups her cheek, caresses her face. He follows with a gentle kiss.

“Now,” he whispers. “Us.”

***This is from my one shot of Leon and Ada from the Resident Evil games. I played the game over quarantine and my twelve year old feels for the femme fatale and hot agent reignited, so I wanted to tribute that. Now I like Leon and Ada vastly more than Leon and Claire because I just find it more interesting--but beyond that I really wanted to explore an enemies to lovers relationship. They’re on two different sides of a war but they can’t help that attraction and pull, and I just like the idea they kind of see each other sometimes and release some tension, though both skirt around the idea of love. I like this passage because it encapsulates their tense yet dynamic and even romantic pull. Plus when I wrote “you don’t love me, you love the me you think about when you’re lonely” I just felt really powerful and badass, and I collect badass lines that come to my head for future wham lines in my writing, and I am 90 percent sure this was one such line. Either that or it came to me as I was writing, but I honestly don’t remember. 

2.  Love Song on Sapphire Isle, GOT, Jaime x Brienne

From the palace, there’s a strum of a lute, the sound intermingling with the crash of the waves that’s melodic and lulling. They stand side by side, listening to the song—a love song, though Jaime says she is his love song, his greatest adventure.  And she wraps her arms around him, and tells him he is her love song, and her later. Though now, she thinks her later has turned into an always.

***This is from my Jaime and Brienne longfic, a pseudo fix it that really just made me feel better after how disappointed I was with where they took Jaime and Brienne’s arc in the show. Come on George make them each other’s true love in the books I know you are prove those people who can’t read subtext wrong In the fic the term “later,” is part of their romantic dynamic, Jaime and Brienne always telling each other there will be time for romance later before the battle. then they get their later and and they’re stuck in a rut, not knowing what exactly to do. The last chapter, a snap shot of their “later,” years after the penultimate fic chapter, shows the life they’ve built. I tell my kids in my class that their final lines in a paper should pack a punch, and I think with everything that happened in the fic and the idea of later, it was the perfect final line. 

3.The Sweetest Sorrow, RDR2. Arthur Morgan x Charlotte Balfour

Come back, she said to him, sitting by their favorite spot in the clearing by the water. I know what you said, and I accepted it, but it is not easy to be the one that waits. It’s not fair that I am always the one that waits. These men in old stories, men like Arthur who masqueraded as an outlaw but were also knights, thought they had the harder duties. Charlotte, though she would always sing for Arthur and the good man underneath that always won over the evil bad man he claimed to be, was tired of singing songs of those men. She sung praises for Penelope and other women like her, the waiters. She sung for herself and her strength, and waited for the day when she could show him again just how strong she was, as strong as him. If only he would come back, one more time. She made sure to pour longings and promises in their parting kiss after he said that she gave him his dream. She kissed him to woo him back.

“Come back,” she said, and she hoped the wind carried her prayers. Come back to me Arthur, she wrote on her journal in her lap. She prayed that her longing, tangible in the words she wrote and spoke would make him stronger, beat that vile thing that had made it’s way into her once proud man and withering him. If he came back and it turned that he had given her his ailment, they could be brave together. She was tired of being brave alone. She was good at being alone, but that didn’t mean she had to endure it.

Come back.

Arthur was made to believe he was alone, and he had to be alone with his ailment. She couldn’t rely on their last conversation, her last kiss to him. Once he was away from her she knew his duty and self-sacrifice would win. Why, why did she not go with him, why did she allow herself to think she had to be the one that stayed? If she was his equal, she would have showed him.

Come back.

He wasn’t alone. He could find a way back to her once everything was fixed, but nothing could ever become truly fixed. Would he remain and remain, hopelessly fixing until he became too frail and withered? She knew him. He would. He was too much of a good man, especially now.

Come back.

It wasn’t that she wanted him to be selfish. She wanted him to be true to himself. But that man was wrestling with a giant called doubt.

Come back.

The wind blew her journal to the last few dozen pages. She hadn’t realized how worn it was before, how the binding was tearing and the pages weren’t sticking to the spine as they used to. Come back, she wrote. Come back to me Arthur. Again and again, she wrote, more furious than the last, her hand flying through her remaining blank pages. The wind was strong, and before she could catch one of the pages that ripped out, she could only watch as the wind ripped it’s away across the stream. More pages began to fly from her journal with all the same messages, come back, come back, Arthur come back, don’t leave me in this dark, cruel place where I can’t find you. Some fell in the river, some were carried to the clearing behind her.

She lost all her blank pages. She didn’t mourn.

“Come back,” she said once more, for the final time. “Come back.”

***So I stopped updating this fic in 2019 because I lost the muse. Frankly too I spent the bulk of writing this story in an unhappy mood, and I associated a lot of my feelings of the time when I thought about going back. however, wanting to replay RDR2 made me fall for Arthur all over again, and made me want to come back to this world, so I reread it and tidied it up and went back. I found I no longer associated the fic with my mood at the time and could appreciate it as it’s own thing. The meta of this section and why I’m found of it is that the idea of blank pages is associated with Arthur and Charlotte’s relationship.  they want to write a story together and fill up their blank pages together. Plus I am just very attached to the image of Charlotte writing in a journal and the pages getting lost in the wind. Also love the literary references and allusions in this fic, and you can see that here. Truth to be told i think this is one of my technically best fics for it’s consistency and build. Also, Arthur lives.   

4. Memoirs of a Long, Long Time, Morrigan x Warden

Rowan had no shame. Once outside the blacksmith’s, he took Morrigan’s hand, leading her out by the water. He held up his hand to Alistair, Leliana and Sten, promising it would be one moment, and one moment only.

“Yes?” she asked, with a dollop of sugary sweetness

He didn’t play games. “Why are you acting like this?”

“Why are you?” she fired back. “We are here for the Arl, not to save the entire village."

“Look around,” he told her. “Who will help these people if I do not?”

“Yet to accept a kiss? From that woman? Shall we keep our list? Leliana, that girl in the chantry, the tavern wench…me….”

He didn’t care if Alistair, Leliana, and Sten were all watching. “You know what I feel for you is different,” he muttered.

“Oh? Is it?”

“Shall I kiss you now to prove it?”

“But I do wonder if you would, gallant knight from a story book? You—”

He took her hand and pulled their bodies closer together, her words disappearing. “Am I a knight, or rogue?” he asked her. “No. I’m a Grey Warden.”

She bit her lip, mesmerized by his. Oh, to have done it then before battle, in front of his companions.

It was a nice thought, but it wasn’t what he wanted.

“I won’t kiss you now,” he said, “though a kiss before battle is what the bards sing of. I’d rather wait to kiss you when you aren’t so…salty. Kisses taste better that way.”

The temptress, Witch of the Wilds smiled, both agreeing with him, and knowing he did indeed want her lips and her lips alone. She stood by his side in battle, and then stood by his side come morning when the village remained. When Bella thanked him again after they came to the tavern with for complimentary glass of mead—a small reprieve before they would head to Castle Redcliffe— Morrigan said nothing and merely stood by his side, her arm pressed against his. When his mead sat untouched on the counter after a few sips, she took his glass and took a sip.

“I suppose I am to wait till after we storm the castle?” she asked.

“If I find a small grotto to take you. I hear kisses happen only in beautiful places.”

“Then we should do it anywhere you are.”

He flushed with vanity. He knew he looked tired, with dark, purplish circles under his eyes and scraggly hair that was growing out, though at least it had some wave to it. He lost weight as well, as his cheeks were hollower. His beard was growing as well, and he knew soon he would need to trim it. Frankly, he looked like what he was: a tired man who slept in the woods and was forced to settle every squabble in Redcliffe Village. And yet the Witch of the Wilds, who looked at radiant as she did when he first met her, would have him anywhere. She liked him as he was: tired and frankly annoyed.

He took one last sip of mead before suggesting they meet Teagan. After that, he would be one step closer to his kiss.

Or, not.

***I always wanted to write Morrigan x Warden. I was so close to making the Warden in In Waking Dreams a male that romanced Morrigan and had Kieran with her, but I chickened out and went with what I was most familiar with, a female Cousland who romanced Alistair. Well, 2020. Time to do the creative things that once scared me lol. If I had the will I’d rewrite IWD just to stick in Morrigan and Rowan, but that would be too hard and mess with the timeline, of Cullen and Lyd’s relationship, because the hero of Ferelden is Hawke’s Warden contact in this fic, and there’s no way Rowan wouldn’t visit his wife and son....I mean maybe I can do it but I don’t have the energy, I’d rather just keep IWD as it is, and I do like the Warden in that fic.

Anyway this fic reminds me a lot of a play---fitting because Rowan was once an actor. I really enjoy their dialogue and banter and I think Rowan’s knightish, charming ways come across in his dialogue. Also I’m proud of the way the story is told. It’s his memories, interspersed with the current time, also switches to Morrigan at Skyhold. ****

5. In Waking Dreams: Dragon Age, Cullen x Quiz

Lydia knew it immediately before he handed it to her, the book of Ferelden myths and legends, with the story of Cliodna, the Avvar priestess who roamed the world looking for her lover nestled within the pages. Lydia had a copy before, though different than the one Cullen handed to her. This was the one his mother held in her hands as she read to her children, the one that survived the Blight to be held in Cullen’s hands again, to be given to his lover.

“Cliodna and Concohbar,” Lydia said thumbing through the pages, captivated by the drawing of the long, dark-haired woman, reunited and swimming in the constellations with the man she loved, the final illustration of the book. Her gaze fell back to Cullen, his expression soft.

“Us,” she said.

“We’re us,” he said. “But they do remind of a certain couple I know.” He caressed her face. “We’re in the same constellation, you and I.”

They couldn’t wait. They made love upstairs in his room, the book safely tucked away on his dresser. He sat on the edge of the bed, peeling off her clothes one by one, slowly and savoring each new patch of revealed skin. He pressed a kiss to her belly as she stood fully nude and himself still clothed—though she helped him rid himself of his shirt as he kicked off his boots and pushed down his trousers and smalls. She sat on his thighs, slid her hands down his body, filled herself with him to the brim. He wrote love letters of a happy birthday on her body, made her come against his hand as she thrust herself down and back upon him, riding his thighs as his calloused hands dug into her hips. Moonlight spilled through the gap in his roof, creating her favorite painting—one of a reverent, loving Cullen—a slight Commander to him in the way he whispered how good she felt, how her want was leaking on him, but unquestionably he was her Cullen.

She spoke his name, a chant and prayer stronger than one she ever prayed to the Maker, his arms wrapping around her and grasping as he shuddered and came, pouring inside of her, resting his head against her beating heart.

“My darling,” she said, covered in both their sweats. “My love.”

“Be honest,” he said against her breasts, peering at her. “Would you have preferred our secret place, something else today? You said you wanted quiet.”

She stroked his bearded face, tousled his hair. “What you all did was perfect. And you coordinated it?”

“Mostly Josephine. But I had some ideas.”

She grinned. “Darling. You have given me the happiest of days.”

***Well, I always wanted to continue IWD, just got caught up in other fandoms. Plus I didn’t think I was ready yet. Believe me I tried but I had no clue where to start. Well, I finally learned: Lydia’s birthday, Cullen throwing her a party. Actually I do enjoy this whole chapter--it’s Lydia and Cullen being romantic and fun and throwing out their pet names, the two just enjoying each other as they are. It’s so refreshing to see them happy and not uptight in a canon fic, because oooh boy rereading the fic and getting back into the world made me realize just how damn dramatic they are, lol. And I wouldn’t have it any other way, we high drama here or we go home. Anyway, really happy to be back, like over the moon even, and I had a reader tell me my writing has improved since I finished in 2018. So, it was quite nice to hear, quite affirming.******

Part of me has never gotten rid of my innate flowy language, but I do think I have improved with just saying what I need to say with no embellishment at certain points. 

[artlessictoan]

Hi can I request butch!Hinata/femme or androgynous!Sakura with a college party!AU please?

ahhh.. parties…………….. my old nemesis returns. buuuut tis theseason and I dunno when else I’m gonna get to write a halloweeny thing thisyear so fuck it, I will pretend I have even the faintest clue what parties and being drunkare like! also uuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh warning for mild spice?? idk whereit came from but it’s where we are now

(requests open)

(ao3 mirror)

---

“Yo, Hina! Thought you weren’t comin’?”

She waved at her best friend as he bounded over to her – hisridiculous, floppy ears bouncing behind him – and bumped his fist against her alreadywaiting one. “I wasn't planning to,” she said, eyeing his onesie with a barely suppressedsnicker. “What are you wearing?”

“I'm a dog and Akamaru’s a cat.” Now that it had beenpointed out to her, she did indeed see how the huge dog had been given a headbandwith some pointy cat ears and a tabby-cat paintjob; presumably with somepet-friendly dye, Kiba cared too much about animals to be irresponsible, evenfor a joke. Still wouldn’t fool anyone, there weren’t many cats around thatwere four feet tall, but she could appreciate the effort. “It’s clever!”

“Mhmm.” She absently scratched around Akamaru’s ears, as sheglanced around the room. “Hey, you haven’t seen Sakura around have you? Chouji calledme over to take her home, apparently she’s gotten a bit… rowdy.”

Kiba snorted. “That’s an understatement, last time I saw hershe was teaching Naruto to suplex Sasuke-”

Naturally. Digging her fingers into her temples,Hinata groaned.

“-that was like, half an hour ago now though, haven’t seenher since.”

She thanked her friend for the help and moved further intothe house, trying to drown out the thumping beat as she tracked her girlfrienddown, asking friends as she stumbled across them, discovering even more reasonsfor Sakura to never be allowed near alcohol ever again and following theirleads to her current location.

The path of destruction left behind by the woman was clearto see.

“Hinata! Thank god you’re here, sorry I called you so late,but I didn’t know what else to do.” Chouji rushed over the second his eyes caughther and he quickly guided her back to the room he’d been guarding. “She’s inhere.”

Mumbling her thanks, she stepping into what was presumably adining room, though with every surface covered by either bottles, cans or plasticcups.

“Hiiiiiinaaaaaa!”

Finally, she laid eyes upon her target; a very drunk, very unrulywerewolf, arm-wrestling a guy with biceps the size of footballs and surroundedby people either screaming her contestant on, or clutching their own arms gingerly.

Honestly, the only surprising thing about the scene was thatthe werewolf was entirely pink.

“Hina, Hina, Hina, Hin-”

She stepped over the bodies littering the floor between themand laid a hand against Sakura’s shoulder before she could get too carriedaway. “I like your sideburns.”

The woman grinned up at her, turning away from her opponent.Not that that gave him any advantage, she could practically hear his teeth grindingto dust with how hard he was clenching them, while Sakura could speak with acompletely calm, if a little slurred, voice, “Feel ‘em! Took fuckin’ ages toglue on.”

Clearly, a lot of effort had gone into this costume, patchesof pastel pink fur – dyed to match her long, artfully dishevelled hair – werecarefully placed all over her body, blended into her skin with bright paint andher pretty blouse and shorts had been artfully shredded to make it reallylook like she’d just grown three sizes and burst right through them. It helpedthat she already had bigger muscles than most people could even dream of.

“They’re very impressive,” she said, stroking down the stiffhairs on her girlfriend’s cheeks, “but, I think that we should get you home now-”

The cut-off screech and agonising thud of skin against woodgave her a minor heart attack.

Sakura ignored the wailing of the poor guy who’d just hadhis hand slammed forcefully against the table and whirled on Hinata, not eventaking a second to gloat in her victory. “Whaaaat, no way, you just got here! C’mon,lets go get some drinks, to the drink-place!”

“I think you’ve had enough sweetie, let’s go.” Out of thecorner of her eye, she could see a worried Chouji hovering by the door, clearlywaiting to jump in and help her if need be.

Hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her back. Sakurablinked up at her with hazy, watery eyes, before weeping into her stomach, “Nooooo,you should stay here and party with us!”

“I’m not into parties, you know that, come on now.” Hinatastarted inching towards the door, dragging her limpet along behind her, but sheonly managed to get a few steps in, before she was suddenly released and forcedto watch her girlfriend slump to the floor, arms crossed, pouting like a child.

“Nuh-uh, not goin’ anywhere.”

She absolutely could not keep up with Sakura’s wildmood swings when she was drunk. “I will drag you if I have to.”

The woman whined and flopped down even more, until she waslying down, arms still crossed, on the hard, wooden floor. Resigning herself toher fate, Hinata leaned down and grabbed hold of her shoulders and started to haulher away.

It would’ve been easier if her girlfriend wasn’t theapproximate size, shape and weight of a truck.

She managed to drag her halfway across the room, but thatwas about as far as they got, before Sakura’s dead weight hit the body of somepoor, unconscious sod and stayed there. Hinata glared down at the woman – thoughright now she was behaving more like a five-year-old – who met her stare with atoothy grin. “Ohhhhh nooooooooo, looks like we’re stuck heeeereeeeeeee.”

Looking to the heavens for patience, her eyes passed overthe forms of the men sulking in the corner, still clutching aching arms. Andshe got an idea.

“…I’ll wrestle you.”

Sakura blearily blinked up at her. “Huh?”

The wheels were franticly spinning in her head as she madeher plan. “An arm wrestle, if I win,” she said slowly, “you have to come homewith me, if you win, then I’ll stay here with you.”

Unfocused eyes suddenly sharpened. Without even bothering tosay anything, Sakura leapt up, grabbed her hand and pulled her back to thetable. She was sat down, waiting with her arm already in position, before Hinatacould even catch her breath. Taking a deep inhale, she sat down in the oppositechair, carefully kicked off her unwieldy boot, trapped her sock under her heelto peel it off and entwined her own hand with her girlfriend’s, bracing herselfagainst the sturdy table and pointedly ignoring the small crowd gatheringaround them.

“On three,” Sakura said with a smirk. “One, two-”

She wouldn’t be able to beat her. As physically strong asshe was – and Hinata was very strong – Sakura was a whole other beastand had much more experience in this particular sport.

She wouldn’t win a fair fight. But Hinata wasn’t afraid tofight dirty.

“Threeek!”

“Something wrong, sweetheart?” Hinata asked, as though herfoot wasn’t running slowly up and down the inside of Sakura’s leg.

Their hands bobbed back and forth, entire arms shaking witheffort as they battled, Hinata kept her focus on what was going on underthe table though. Keeping her calm, innocent smile fixed on her face, as sheskirted around the patches of fur stuck to her shins, gently brushing up anddown smooth skin at a slow, fixed pace.

“You’re cheating!” Sakura whined, arm still held strong, buteyes drifting in and out of focus.

“How can I be cheating, when we never made any specificrules against it?” Her bare toes skimmed further up, tickling just behind aknee before sliding across a hard, muscled thigh.

“I’mmmm-making it a rule now!”

She curled her toes, lightly massaging the skin beneaththem. “Ah-ah, can’t change the rules in the middle of a game, that’s not fair.”Ok, maybe she was taking just a little too much joy in the soft flush on hergirlfriend’s cheeks and slight quiver to her lips as she pulled in shakybreaths, but as she brushed against the hem of her shorts, teasing the area soclose and yet so far, she couldn’t stop herself from getting alittle excited too.

Her love of tormenting her lovers into trembling desire wasalmost as big a liability as Sakura’s ridiculously sensitive legs.

Around them, people were cheering and screaming for a victorto the match, thankfully too wasted to notice the second match happening justout of sight. Despite her overwhelming advantage, Sakura’s arm was beginning totilt ever closer to the table, staying strong, but gradually losing ground asHinata pushed her to her limits and rubbed slow circles into the apex of herinner thigh.

She had to bite her lip at the utterly delicioussounds her girlfriend was trying to hide, intermixed with grunts of effort asshe attempted to push her arm back to safety.

“You’re looking a little out of breath, love,” Hinata crooned,as though she wasn’t equally wrecked, but the full-body shiver and low moan wasmore than worth it. And it was the perfect opening for her final move.

Subtly bracing herself for a final push, she very gently strokedher toes across the fabric covering the one area she’d been pointedly avoidinguntil now.

With a hard smack and high-pitched keen, she won.

But, the revelling in her victory could wait, right now shehad a very worked-up, very delectable girlfriend to take home so she could properlyworship her in private. She immediately withdrew her foot and shoved it backinto her boot – the sock left forgotten on the floor – pulling Sakura up bytheir still clasped hands and stomping out of the house.

Maybe the party hadn’t been so bad after all.

---

[hotbugbot]

Overwatch HCs

Ana: straight. the otp with reinhardt. pretty shameless with her affection and probably embarrasses pharah with it sometimes. not vulgar, just old and open. somewhat motherly toward mccree, and is team advice grandma. voted most likely to share an embarrassing story about anyone giving her too much sass.

Bastion: beeps boops. sexuality and gender are not a thing. has made friends with nearly the entire crew of overwatch, including the anti-omnics, save for maybe anyone on team talon. voted most likely to have a collection of decorative flower pots.

D.va: pansexual trans girl. way more interested in vidya games than people. became quick bffs with lúcio, who is her transitioning buddy. her and genji are casual friends, who share a passion for classic arcade games. quietly thinks hanzo is hot but is Not About That stuffy personality. also likes the junkers, partly in an ironic way but also genuinely. voted most likely to make a meme out of stupid shit her teammates say.

Genji: bisexual. the otp with mccree, established before recall. after he overcomes his body dysphoria thanks to zenyatta’s guidance, genji regains confidence in his sexuality and becomes a giant flirt 2.0. polyamorous cyborg is much more respectful and less flighty in relationships than his younger self was. had a dragon tattoo mirroring hanzo’s own but in green down his right arm, before it got torn the fuck off. all that remains of his old body is bits of his face, his left arm, and a few vital organs. death by ryuu ga waga teki wo kurau. voted most likely to spew absolute filth in japanese around those he knows cannot speak it for kicks.

Hanzo: either bisexual with a slight female preference, or demi. thinks the team cowboy is hot hot hot, but has a much harder time coming to terms with his (gay) feelings than his brother does. has a friendship with satya based on their mutual appreciation for order and company in silence. his legs are prosthetic. voted most obnoxiously tidy room.

Junkrat: ?? gray asexual, probably. too preoccupied with blowing shit up to care much. when he isn’t blowing shit up, he actually puts in quite an effort to befriend his teammates, but to the point it is overbearing and invasive. voted most likely to lose more limbs by the end of the year.

Lúcio: bisexual, slight male preference. trans guy. became quick bffs with hana, who is his transitioning buddy. his lower half is partially prosthetic, with enhancements; unlike hanzo, synthetic pieces are built around his fleshy legs that allow him to not only walk but skate like a pro. also hangs around reinhardt a lot, but everyone loves reinhardt. voted most likely to disappear at night to satisfy a sweet tooth craving.

Mccree: bisexual. the otp with genji, established before recall. big on pet names and 100% shameless when it comes to using them in public. has a tattoo on his upper back from his deadlock days, which he now regrets. his relationship with reyes is complicated at best, largely thanks to gabriel having treated him much like a father would a son in his early recruit days. to say negative feelings have completely replaced any of appreciation and love would be a lie. still close to pharah and ana. voted most likely to whistle loudly in the shower.

Mei: bisexual or gay. probably gay. suffers from ptsd due to losing her friends in the cryostasis incident, just is, to her detriment, very good at hiding it behind a smile. has coping rituals to get by and generally gets along well with the recall team, but occasionally has to force herself to socialize. tracer, lúcio, and zarya have been particularly good at making this easier for her. voted most likely to describe memories in vivid detail like no one else can.

Mercy: bisexual. low on the angela hcs, but her hands are DIRTY, the pure angel persona is a lie. might’ve had a minor interest in ana romantically in her younger days, but never did anything about it. voted most likely to overwork herself.

Pharah: gay. thought she had a small crush on mccree when she was young, but came to realize she simply admired his confidence and companionship. has since formed a brother-sister relationship with him that’s lasted to present day. has complicated feelings toward mercy, namely, is Hella In Love with her while mercy felt more companionship with her mother in the older days, and sees fareeha like a sister. she wants to return the familial sentiment but just ends up sweating a lot and acting like a clumsy, lovesick fool. voted most likely to follow an insanely strict meal plan for health benefits.

Reaper: gay. gay and his relationship with morrison is so, so deliciously complicated. a great number of things fanned the fire that led to the incident at swiss HQ, and their personal (gaaay) relationship certainly didn’t help douse any flames. whatever happened, reyes was screwed just as much as jack, if not more. practically canon supported. voted most likely to have skull crushing thighs.

Reinhardt: straight. the otp with ana. the most affectionate partner out of all the heroes, hands down. will let you swing from his flexing biceps whether you are 4 or 40 and boisterously proclaim how he is loving every second of it. has a garden he tends to and harvests on base. fareeha’s adoptive father, but also kind of everyone’s adoptive grandfather. voted most likely to wake others with his snoring.

Roadhog: bisexual. has a natural talent for detail work, and can pick up just about any handicraft in a few attempts. if he isn’t blasting holes into things, he’s probably somewhere off in his own space sewing or baking. is polynesian, and can play a mean ukulele. vegetarian. voted most likely to liberate a herd of animals from the pound.

Soldier 76: bisexual. see: reaper. not a dad, but definitely team dad, likely against his will. i basically subscribe to the popular headcanon that jack was an overambitious golden poster boy in his younger years, and worked his ass off to get the respect and praise he thinks he deserves. things started to sour in overwatch before he was necessarily ready to deal with them or the position thrust upon him. voted most likely to say he won’t lift a finger for anyone who acts like a suicidal asshole in a skirmish, but ends up going above and beyond to save them if there’s trouble.

Sombra: gay. gets an absolute kick out of teasing/pissing everyone off. not even widowmaker is safe from her playful pestering, and honestly talon operatives must think she has a death wish because someone has ‘accidentally’ pointed a sniper rifle at her more than once. voted most likely to blackmail anyone’s ass into oblivion.

Symmetra: either gray asexual or aromantic. either way has an appreciative eye for the female form/femmes but is not interested in pursuing an actual relationship. has a friendship with hanzo based on their mutual appreciation for order and company in silence. she’s ocd and autistic, and likes winged things, such as birds and butterflies, but as something to be admired from afar rather than up close. voted best natural balance.

Torbjörn: straight. i don’t have a single torb headcanon that diverts from canon tbh. voted unexpectedly best dick game.

Tracer: CANON LESBIAN fully accepted into headcanon space, bless. also canonly fam with winston my tracer hc prayers have been answered. i don’t have much to add. voted most likely to be found napping randomly in strange places.

Widowmaker: doesn’t really have the emotional capacity for romance or sexuality since brainwashing, but thought she was straight pre-talon. ‘thought’ because she is actually bisexual, just never had a chance to explore that. still working on how her humanity eventually comes back to her. voted most likely to win a breath holding competition.

Winston: i draw the line at monkey shipping but him and tracer are great pals. voted most likely to binge watch future!netflix after a hard day and unintentionally empty out the entire kitchen by the second movie.

Zarya: gay as hell. the most she will ever admire about a man is his workout routine, and even then we know hers is more intense. has at some point arm wrestled everyone in overwatch and won. voted most likely to get hit by a truck and survive, with minimal injuries.

Zenyatta: asexual. i can’t seem to fit in any relationship that isn’t platonic for zen in my head space; he respects his brother mondatta deeply and genji as a friend and student. has an unexpectedly dry sense of humor and will deliver jokes in the flattest tone when it’s least expected. as a result, no one knows if he’s kidding or not and his punchlines are almost always followed by uncomfortable silence. voted most likely to be writing an epic in his spare time.

[rexylafemme]

this precious time when time is new

things come full circle all the time. ruben touched down in nyc on saturday. micah and i trekked to laguardia to get him, laughing on the way about how ridiculous we all were in the bay, how we bet our lil ruben looks more grown now, seasoned, hehe. the last time micah, ruben, and i were together was for the full pisces supermoon in late summer, september 2015--the night before micah would move back to nyc, our last full night at our house all together. a month before ruben would leave, two months before i would leave. this time, ruben arrived in time for the virgo full moon, pisces’ opposite, in late winter 2017, the coldest, snowiest week we’ve had.

that last night together in september, we drove to alameda beach armed with paper, some stones, herbs & flowers, gifts & letters from ex-whatevers & poem drafts to throw to the ocean, ruben’s signature drink: fireball whiskey (ew), a blunt, some candles, a mini speaker. all the trappings for a spell for letting go, for saying goodbye. bitch better have my money on in the car ride there, our heads hanging out the window, boisterous--our anthem for that year (/always), being broke, undervalued, and continuously doing too much work for too little or free, retail and retail and food service and gigs and workshops and unofficial art modeling and freelance writing and recording and plans that kept falling through. now we were in the home stretch. we laid down our blanket, we set out our herbs, our stones, our candles. we sat in a triangle, wrote silently for awhile: what we would surrender to the bay, what we would leave there, what we couldn’t keep or hold anymore. also, what new journeys we needed new strength for.

we went around and said some words about what we’d written, said some sentimental stuff about each other. poured out some fireball, passed it around til it was gone--so sickly sugary & spicy like melted/liquefied big red gum, coating yr mouth and throat. we stuffed our losses in the bottle and walked to the shoreline. we fumbled trying to figure out a way for all three of us to hold the bottle while we threw it, haha. the moon hung to the left of our viewscape, leaving a moving trail of yellow on the water as we watched the bottle bobble away. i walked into the water alone up to my waist--feeling grateful, trying to absolve myself of this place and all its failures, looking up at the moon and asking it my questions about what next and help and please don’t let us lose this. hearing micah and ruben laugh from the sand, smiling to myself with love for them, sighing and crying a little. no turning back now, can’t hold onto everything, nothing is forever, and then it was over, the night. tomorrow everything would be different. just one more chip off an already broken heart. 

“nothing’s changed!” micah exclaimed laughing as we stood propped against the subway doors on the Q train to brooklyn. ruben and i fake-fighting, the bates motel norma and norman faux-codependence theatrical game we’d play-- we all go a little mad sometimes, there’s a cord between our hearts, etc. the three of us hugging and giggling. after almost two hours of traveling from queens to flatbush, we wound up at micah and sharmin’s for game night. i was in the middle of a two-week marathon of insomnia and ptsd nights, so i was feeling raw/cranky/crazy/depleted/negative and was waiting for my affections to catch up with the present moment. ruben! friends! games! you don’t wanna go home and write by yourself, rex, you fool. it’s saturday night! but knowing when i’m like this, at night i get all weird & doubtful & dark, but reminding myself to just be myself, relax, remember what’s good, no pressure, if you need to leave, you can. and you might even enjoy yourself. and of course i didn’t wind up going home til 2am, spent and full, as suddenly the future hit--clocks springing ahead to 3am for daylight savings.

but before that, sharmin’s friends arrived trickle by trickle until there were about ten of us.  uno, jenga, slapjack, drinks, snacks, bullshit, taboo (team names: beyonce v. solange, and ruben and i were on the solange team, the weirder, low key underdog, and we won), stories, music, nintendo, laughter, newness, familiarity. it felt so nourishing to be in a room full of working class folks, folks from queens and bk, and ruben & micah: the two down suburban qts, home people--that easiness and fluency that comes with not having to explain yourself, everyone just getting it, breathing room & shared experiences.  micah and i trying to explain all the wild connections between the people in the bay and the people out here. how i met sharmin, tanya (& tres tho only briefly), and jesse through black brunch organizing in 2014 when i was visiting home from the bay. learning sharmin and jesse both were from my qnz hood and knew my childhood bff ro through other organizing avenues. jova and reuben knew sharmin, too, and tanya and tres, jova having told me tanya and i needed to know each other way before this meeting bc of our poor white femme nyc/nj lives. later, when i moved home and jova was so right about tanya and me, and someow tres & tanya had known micah round the way (?!?!?!). and before that, when micah first moved back to nyc, he called me to talk about some amazing femme he met at the club--something that never happens for us--being so enchanted or even pursued at the club (partially bc we never even bothered to go), and as he described her, i was like, “wait, is her name sharmin???” hehehe, clearly micah can’t get enough of catty witches from queens. explaining the connections between all the ex-friends-&-lovers, too--nyc, the bay-- disenchantments & the chaos and the relief that it was all over. happy to be laughing about it now. ending stories. we have no past, we won’t reach back; keep with me forward all through the night.

origin stories. apparently, the first night ruben moved into our 668 apartment, micah and i were hosting a big party. i laughed and apologized retroactively, but it so sums up where we were at at the time. ruben said it helped him integrate tho, he felt welcomed and i remember being so thrilled to introduce him to everyone. realizing how much the three of us got each other through those two years--all the drama, all the marches, the confusion, blowouts, heartbreaks, housing scares, bad jobs, the nights, the mornings--waking up with glitter on our faces, splayed eyeliner, party carnage, or just waking up to work & life fatigue, big breakfasts, sitting in the sun on our stoop year-round. so much we shared and still a lot of room for things we couldn’t say and didn’t have to. but, how home the three of of us felt to each other then, and now, and how we extended that sense of home to others--sometimes guests sleeping over in every room of the house except the kitchen, our place a safe zone on march routes, multiple sets of people staying with us through rocky times, the big meals we’d host when i was working at  farmers’ markets & the spice shop simultaneously, pooper cat game nights, the trigger warning performance series + parties we threw out of the house. talya called our place the gay frat house (tho i have to say in defense that it was quite clean). leo sun/leo rising/leo moon trio. so familiar, so sweet, so effortless, so open. our little clubhouse, our little family. remembering is good if you don’t let it be the fear in you.

i think we felt lacking then, i think we felt we couldn’t get our footing or find somewhere where we belonged-- but looking back, we created what we didn’t have and we invited other people into it. all the adult misfits. we got burned by being open indiscriminately and it made us shrinking violets by the end, but we’re blooming again now. riding that bloom wave.

at one point the other night, i overheard sharmin say to a friend, “aren’t they so cute? they’re such teen boys over there.” as we were sitting in a corner doing our thing. and that was always true of our vibe-- our bond full of youthful, long-lost brother feels. but, soft, feminine boys, & sometimes we’re not boys at all. 668 40th st, living one up from hell, we’d joke, which maybe is what gifted us that mythical queer fountain-of-youth gene where we look 17 forever. young leos. after long days of work + grad school madness (me) or undergrad madness (ruben), in between assignments, projects, art, meetings, shifts, we were always watching movies from our childhoods, making forts, running around in our underwear, making art on the floor in the living room, doing drag, playing board games, talking shit, pushing each other around and wrestling and cuddling and teasing each other, holding hands and being protective of each other when we had to. our intimacy--so easy & necessary & good & a balm from the bad intimacies we got lost in at times. we grew together: we all taught each other things and challenged each other, especially through our differences. bb ruben had never met a trans person before and micah and i were like “well, here we are!” and both of us so different in our trans-ness. we were all so inviting & open to excavating each other so we could be better at honoring who we all were.

and in new york now, finally living here on my own terms, regardless of the obstacles: housing scares and failures, the last of the bad intimacies (i hope), and family, i am thinking of who i was before. the sense of un-belonging that’s had me leaving new york over and over, the pain of lineage that had me craving escape, craving to be someone else, craving to leave them all behind. while simultaneously always trying to make sense of the people i come from so i could make sense of myself: the grief i never let go of, the contradictions, the violence and the nourishment of us. how all of this and my own self within it--freakish, theatrical, full of shadows, so of them & yet so so other--had me always searching. the people, the others: i was always looking for and the ones i always found. there were the inexplicably lovable yet destructive ones who reified all of the patterns in me i was always trying to leave behind, and then i finally did. bye. and then all the people who were so new; whose influence, paired with my own, allowed us to make something from nothing-- magic, create beauty from old tragedies, whether we spoke of them or not. cosmic people, like ruben and micah, the pretty, sweet boys. boys who weren’t afraid to cry or to touch or to admit to love and fear and failure and wanting. and the three of us, whoever we are and will be, knowing our love was/is strong enough to withhold our leaving, being apart, and all of the transformations that would flush out of walking away, of change. that there would always be a road back. paths that cross will cross again!

and ruben is still here until saturday, so my sentimentality is running away with me. blame it on my wild heart. hehe.