#my 13 yeah old self would be proud

[laerkesa]

I want him and I want to be him. Yes I truly have impeccable taste

[brodieland]

Heyyyy, so idk if you do this or notttt but could you write a nonevil!Luke AU where he moves in with Y/N after he gets too old for camp and after a few months they “adopt” Annabeth (she just stays w them during the school year) if not that’s ok! 🩵🩵

.˚ 𓈒 ࣪.𝝑𝝔 New York New Home !! ´ˎ˗

Luke Castellan x Fem!Aphrodite!Reader Synopsis: moving in with Luke, with a little Annabeth by your sides!! Tag(s): BLURB, cursing, nun to much Word Count: 842 A/N: ugh why are they such cutiesss

You sighed as you plopped your self onto the cold island in your brand new kitchen. When you and your boyfriend Luke turned 20, you both thought it was finally time to leave camp, make a life for yourself and move in together. It was the end of summer, beginning of August to be exact, but the heat still ripped through the apartment as if it were June.

"Yeah yeah, just sit there and look pretty," Luke grunted as he placed another box in the living room. "No need to help!"

You smiled and rolled over to your stomach, this kitchen was huge!! You rested your head on your hands as your feet swung in the air as you admired your sweaty boyfriend. The way his muscles were flexing as he lifted something heavy and his shirt sticking to him from his sweat made him look so yummy!!!

Luke just laughed as he walked over to you and leaned over you on the counter, "Pictures last longer y'know."

"Why take a picture when I can have the real thing," you gloated. He leaned down and slowly kissed you. He had one hand on your cheek while your cherry flavored chapstick drove him crazy.

"Yuck," Annabeth fake gagged as she walked through the door, with her book bag slung on her shoulders and duffel in hand. The two of you decided it would be best to take Annabeth with you and give her a home during the school year. You and Luke pulled away and looked toward the 13 year old girl who was sending disgusted looks towards the two of you. "Do I have to stay here, is this what I'm in for?"

"Oh come on, don't be like that," Luke chuckled as he ruffled her hair.

"Yeah Annie, we want you here," you said as you hopped off the counter, pulling down your lifted shirt. "You can even go to school now, you know how much you have to learn to be an architect?"

She sighed and smiled as she agreed, "guess your right."

"Ooh! Let's show you your room," you clapped as you held her hand and dragged her to an empty room. "Ta-Da!!"

You held out your hands as you showed off Annabeth's new room. You pointed toward the big window that looked over Times Square. Being a model with a boyfriend who can be a really good klepto whenever he wants can really rack up the cash. Luke just stayed back, leaning on the door way while the both of you geeked over the view.

Annabeth pulled her small digital camera from her bag and handed it to you, "Here, here, take my picture." She smiled and posed with a proud face as if she herself were the one who built the buildings.

"Perfect," you handed back the camera. "Sending it to someone?"

"Oh yeah, I wanted to show Percy the new house, especially the view."

"I'm pretty sure he knows little more about Time Square than you do," Luke joked, causing her to just roll her eyes, and grunt out a whatever. What a teenager in the making.

"You should invite him over and hang out before school starts. And you know we got you a trundle bed, if you wanted to have a sleepover or something."

"You'd let Percy sleepover?"

"We were thinking more like Thalia, now that she's back on her feet," Luke said.

"Yeah, your right," she chuckled.

"We'll let you get settled in," you smiled as you walked out with Luke trailing in behind you. You stared out into the empty living room, smiling while thinking about how you and Luke live together. He walked up behind you, hugging you by the waist. "We should really get some furniture."

"Why, I mean I don't mind sleeping on the floor. Childhood memories," he joked. You softly smacked his arm.

"Not funny."

"Your smiling."

"C'mere," you grabbed his hand, this time going to your room across the apartment. "This one's ours."

Your room was just as empty, but had the same view as Annabeth, just about an apartment length to the left. You walked back up to the window, place your hands on the glass. "So many people down there, we definitely need some curtains. Can't let someone catch me changing."

Luke came from behind you again, placing his hands next to yours, caging you in. "I don't know, don't you think they'd enjoy the free show?"

"You're such an ass," you smiled, turning around and placing your hands on his face. You pulled him down, and kissed him once more. Luke moved his hands from the glass down to your hips, pressing you on the glass behind you.

"Guys do you know how - AGAIN," Annabeth groaned at the sight of you two for the second time today. She just turned around and slammed the two shut while you and Luke exchanged looks. The two of you bursted out in laughter while Annabeth slowly creeped the door open again, "I still need help with something."

[chaotic-starlight24]

Sodapop Curtis General Headcanons

Well y'all, here he is. Our pretty little boy. I love Soda so much though, I linger a bit on the sad stuff though :( I'll be covering Two-Bit next!

Freetime Headcanons

Warnings: Spoilers and Some angst

There was one book that he managed to read and actually enjoy, and that was The Phantom Tollbooth. He read it in middle school and his parents were very proud of him for finishing it AND not forcing him to read it. (He was probably forced by a teacher)

He pulls out snacks and drinks from EVERYWHERE. Like he has legit just been talking to Pony on the couch and pull a Pepsi-Cola from between the cushions.

I mentioned in my freetime post that he is really good at doing hair. So sometimes he helps out Two-Bit and his mom by doing Dolly’s (Two-Bit’s sister) hair. She always likes when he does it because if her brother does it she usually ends up with 2 crooked ponytails.

When they grow up, he and Steve plan to own a car shop together. Soda would also like to start a horse-riding club for rodeos and everything. As I mentioned in my Steve headcanons, Johnny and Steve did a design for fun of the future car shop but Soda and Steve do end up using it (with a couple tweaks). 

Is Soda innocent and sweet at all times? NO. He is not shy when it comes to flirting with people. But he is also very respectful of women whenever they come to the car shop. He only flirts if they try to flirt with him first. Only if they’re the same age as him ofc. But one time Steve had to take over because an older woman was making some really weird comments to him. 

He was the first one to make friends with Dally in the gang. Him and Steve were hanging out and they managed to get Two-Bit to come with them because Mrs. Curtis didn’t like the idea of them walking around alone. So they walked over to the diner to see if they could get a free drink or something and Soda looked over and saw him. This scruffy looking 13 year old, crouched at the end of the bar thing. Soda is the most golden retriever person ever so he immediately went to try and talk to him. Dally tried to push him away but soon enough he was dragged into their little group.

He can get very self-conscious since he is supposed to be the “pretty” brother and will occasionally be found by Steve, just looking in the mirror. He doesn’t really have dysmorphia of any kind and is actually quite confident but he still has those moments.

Soda was not shy at all when it came to pulling his teeth as a kid. It’s just a bit loose? He yanks it out because it's annoying. One time the dentist told him to expect a specific tooth to be loose and he just pulled it out right then and there. (ONE OF MY FRIENDS ACTUALLY DID THIS)

He is one of the most talented of the gang with gymnastics. His favorite trick to show off with is front-flipping into a handstand and spinning on one hand. Can this actually be done? Idk. Would it look sick? Oh yeah it would.

He has the most amazing and cute laugh ever. He looks majestic, sounds beautiful, just top-tier enjoyable laugh. He throws his head back a bit and has the most adorable crooked grin.

Now for a bit of angst >:) After Sandy he was a lot more sensitive when it came to flirting or mentions of romance. He really thought Sandy was the one. Soda does not get angry easily but after Sandy, that was the first time Steve saw him snap at a stranger. Some girls really wouldn’t leave him be and he went off on them.

After his main breakdown when Darry and Pony came after him, he was happy they came. Happy they helped him back up and heard him out. But a small part of him wish Pony wasn’t so dang fast and Darry wasn’t so dang strong. He wanted to just keep running. Run until he found Sandy. Run until he made it so far from Tulsa that no one knew what a greaser was. He knew a hug and some tears weren’t going to stop the fights between Pony and Darry.

He gets colds really easily but he can’t get cough syrup down his throat for his life. It doesn’t help that Darry has this really nasty stuff that tastes like honey and rotten eggs and is like 20 years old.

He has freckles. That’s all. They’re beautiful.

He is one of the few to actually take Two-Bit’s love of Mickey/Disney seriously. Two-Bit has even dragged him to a couple movies. His favorite one was Mary Poppins. He has attempted to dance like Bert does.

He is the most physically affectionate out of everyone in all of Oklahoma. The more friendly he is with you, the more he’s affectionate. When he and Steve are sitting together he just drapes himself across Steve while talking. When he listens to Pony he’s usually holding Pony or hugging him. If he’s dating someone, he’s kissing their face and holding their hand all the time. He’s just more comforted by it. Mr. Curtis was the same way. Just a little less.

A couple months before he dropped out some Socs stopped him in the hallways. They were trying to steal the pocket money he had. He tried his best to hold them off him but one of them started getting physical. Until one mentioned his big older brother and that they should be careful. But the main soc told him that Soda was too dumb to ever think about telling him, or anyone for that matter. Not a thing going on in that pretty little head of his. Eventually they did end up leaving him alone. But those words stuck with Soda. Dumb. That was the word that came up in his mind first when thinking about himself. He wasn’t much more, was he?

As mentioned in my Johnny headcanons, he was one of Johnny’s first friends. He was one of the few to hear all about Johnny’s thoughts. He just had that way of making people talk to him. He heard all about how worthless Johnny thought he was. How little confidence he had. He tried his best in encouragement but he knew Johnny wasn’t going to listen. Which made it all the worse once Johnny died. He toughed it out when around the gang but one day after his work, he walked to the graves. He kneeled in front of Johnny’s. And sobbed. The boy who died feeling worthless, in agonizing pain. His friend. One of his first. And now he was 6 feet under. Nothing would bring him back. And next to him? The other friend he brought into the gang. He never really understood Dally all that well, but that was one of his friends. Now both would never meet him again. No more giving Johnny a sandwich at the DX cause he had nothing better to do. No more dragging Dally away from Buck’s to go to rodeos with him and Steve. No more gang hangouts with them all together playing games.

When Pony came home and then Johnny and Dally died, Soda felt horrible for his little brother. He had to watch him become much more closed off and defensive. He could barely get Pony to open up to him. He was terrified Pony would never have a good friend again. Eventually Pony got a couple of friends (As mentioned in my Pony headcanons, he and Esther became better friends) and Soda felt a little more at peace.

With the whole Vietnam war thing… I do think he would end up going, BUT end up surviving. We can’t have Pony lose everything ok! He was put on the less violent jobs and not thrown head-first into battle. Let’s just say he was allowed to go home after 2 years at most. That is all I will cover on that subject.

He’s a pretty good singer and he and Darry jam out to Elvis all the time. He really does sing his heart out. If Blue Suede Shoes comes on you know he has a comb in hand and tries to dance like Elvis. He also loves “Please, Mr. Postman” and if he’s feeling dramatic “It’s My Party”.

He doesn’t really listen to his own emotions much or tell anyone about them. He feels he’s supposed to be the listener. Everyone’s going through so much more than him! So he needs to be there for them, not himself! The only person he’s been vulnerable around is Sandy. Steve as well. Which meant it hurt so much more when Sandy left him.

The Curtis Brothers have an elderly neighbor named Nellie, she's 92. Soda brings cake to her once a week and just sits and chats with her. She brings them berry jam.

[slayingfiction]

What would your advice for just-starting-out young authors be?

I love new writers! I’ve never known a better way to escape my reality and live a thousand different lives.

I started writing when I was young, maybe 12 or 13 years old. I am now 25, and very much consider myself to be a child, but still, in my 10+ years of personal writing and classes, here are some of the best tips I can give anyone who is new to writing, regardless of age.

Read. Read. Read. Then read some more. The easiest and fastest way to learn how to write is by reading and studying how other people have written their stories. Study their balance of dialogue vs description vs action. Study the words they use and what they’re choosing to describe. Study the scenes that make you feel something, or pull you to the story even more, and dissect it until you understand how to do it.

Daydream. At night, in the morning, before and after school, during school, during work. When people are trying to talk to you, just daydream. Image worlds with populated moons. Imagine worlds with multiple human-like species all living in the same area. Image a boy who goes home and cries to his adoptive vampire parents, and girls who practices knife throwing every night to prepare for the apocalypse that no one sees coming. Dream of everything and anything because that’s how you keep and improve your creativity. Eventually you may even write something with it.

Write for yourself. Always start by writing what you enjoy, and love your characters and your stories. Everything about your first draft should be because you love the story, not what other people like. You will never please everyone, so start with yourself, and build a community with the ones who love your story as much as you do.

Do it on your own timeline. If you want to write a book in a month, edit the next and publish right after, do it. If you want to write the first five chapters of 8 books without finishing, do it. If, like me, you want to write your first novel at 18 years old, and 7 years later still not feel ready to publish, that’s ok! You are not falling behind anyone else, you are exactly where you should be on your own path.

Practice. Your writing will improve with practice, that’s how it works, it’s how it always works. No way to skip right to publishing a first draft and becoming famous for it. Practice and just keep writing, you will improve.

Challenge yourself. While you may love fantasy or romance, or maybe all your story ideas are too big for only one book and they all end up being series’, you need to try new things. Write a mystery short story. Write poetry on how you feel. Write one page on how you could survive a zombie apocalypse as long as you have your coffee in the morning, it doesn’t matter, just try new things. Trying new things is how I wrote this haiku: Take a deep inhale, Breathe fresh air into my lungs, I savorfreedom. Is it the greatest haiku ever? No, but it makes me happy, and reminds me that I can write, good or bad, and still be proud of myself.

Keep all your projects. Good or bad. Look back on them years later and think, yeah that was terrible, at least I’m better now. Or maybe think, this wasn’t as bad as I thought it was. It’s a progressive journey. You can take your time. DONT EVER SHAME YOUR YOUNGER SELF FOR THEIR WORK. THEY TRIED THEIR HARDEST AND WROTE AS BEST THEY COULD. WE ARE PROUD OF OURSELVES, NOT EMBARRASSED OR SHAMED. Whether the work is from years ago or days go. Be kind to yourself, no one else owes you that.

Compare. Compare to popular novels, compare to your friends stories or to people online. Compare and see if your character are developed enough, or if your story makes sense, or if it’s relatable. When comparing however, keep in mind that your written style will be different than all others writers. Your first novel will not be the same as an author’s 10th book that just went viral on TikTok. It takes practice and time. Compare for style, technique, structure and plot. Not for popularity, worth, importance, and don’t feel down thinking that someone writing at a higher grade level makes them better, it doesn’t.

Share your work. If you are embarrassed, use a pen name. That’s perfectly fine. Put your work out there and get feedback. Having one person saying your story is (negative criticism here) is going to happen, don’t freak out. It doesn’t mean your story is flawed and should be tossed. If most people are saying that, then maybe it’s time to revisit the story and plot. Getting feedback from people reading your story is important, you want to ask specific questions so you don’t get generic answers. Get real reviews from real people, the mean voice in your head doesn’t get a say.

Learn the difference between perfect and done. I know, I know. Perfectionists around the world just scoffed and thought ‘I would if I could’. Here’s the thing, it’ll never be perfect. A word won’t be right, you can’t find the right way to convey an emotion, your choice of vocabulary isn’t up to your standards, I get it. You want your work to be absolute perfection so that everyone loves it and no one can say a bad thing about it, but it doesn’t work that way. Instead make it to ‘complete’, then nitpick some details, then it’s done. Done is good, it’s where you want to be.

Self-publishing? Pay for a professional editor and a graphic designer. It makes a difference, I promise.

There’s lots of others, but I would say as a writer-starter-pack, these should get you started, then you will learn lessons all on your own, or find them as you’re writing later on. Truly, just have fun, and the rest will come with time.

Happy Writing!

[mutsky]

love sea ep 6 running commentary

i think im finally in the right headspace to watch this (on the clock remotely)

-aww hes still wants to dress up his little ken doll

-if mut doesnt care what he wears might as well get him something nice

-mut: hes 30 but he has aegyo down

-the fluff i cant sooo cute

-sister there is still rice on your plate finish that first

-this is the first time tongraks eaten in his adult life so proud

-not his white wine mom coffee cup

-muts just like me ... has a death note

-mahasamut is the perfect man i knew hed be bc tr is like mames self insert ofc shed give herself the best male lead

-peats pretty eyes

-damn mama owns all of bangkok

-my poor meow meow

-prapaisky call backs we are so up

-ok vienus williams

-congratulations to love sea for being the first ever bl to pass the bechdel test (they passed it ep 1 but wtv)

-they just called her bitchless

-whyyyy is he getting in bed in jeans

-ok paid body pillow

-if i say the hands on the face is the most erotic thing thats happened in this show id be the bad guy

-tongraks literally gagging for it

-damn

-connor came too in the book :( wheres our white boy

-i love you island rain and sky

-finally some sense

-khom and tongrak have the same necklace/earring combo in different colors connor you are not slick it was bogo huh

-yeah terribly

-the picture is sending me

-when did he put on pants

-ngl im probably one of two people that care about connorkhom so i am enjoying this interlude

-its also HILARIOUS how connor only exists off screen

-no his phone is in muts hand how would he get in the taxi

-these two sulky kitties

-the only one out of the 4 of them with any sense is khom

-theyre literally 2

-"hug me" vie is too much

-gaslight gatekeep girlboss your way back into your girls heart

-these are not 13 year olds they look 5

-awww sad puppy is back

-30 year old man squeals into a pillow but is soooo not in love

-she has access to the internet which is BAD

-NO YOU CANT READ THAT

-poor meena she has to be so vigilant :(

-yeah mook is sorta useless here

-tis a bit weird to have a 20 year old picking up a 13 year old hes not related to but i think its fine there are precautions in place

-using your uncle to get dessert a+ tactic incredible

-woah how do you know these words

-shes right this is a call back

-i think kaimook would beg to differ

-cuteeee awww

-he went from sad to horny in two minutes

-jesus fucking christ

-it could be her other grandma ... right?

-shes gonna take mook to france huh

10/10 no notes

[leeloooonfire]

Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington

Ok.

imagine: the nickname ‘the hair’ doesn’t originally come to exist because of the locks on his head, but because of all the body hair.

imagine: 12 or 13 year old Steve getting really hairy legs and arms, chest hair and even something like a beard with the start of puberty. He’s proud of it, because now he’s becoming a ‘real man’ (yeah, he’ll grow out of this toxic masculinity after a few smacks on in the head), but yeah - he loves it. Until he doesn’t anymore, because all his classmates are talking about his arms and legs and because teenager are shitty, his basketball team members call him stupid shit much worse than The Hair.

imagine: Steve feeling self-conscious about his body hair and starts to shave it all off, smooth like a baby. (And the girls like it, right?!) The nickname still sticks, because when he’s 15 and comes back after summer, the brown locks on his head are long and luscious and artfully styled. He takes what once was a petty insult and turns it into something people envy him for and that is so uniquely him.

imagine: 19 year old Steve, not really dating, working minimum wage and not really feeling like it, stops shaving his legs and arms and chest (not to mention that some girls told him they like the movie stars with some chest hair and stuff); and then spring 1986 hits.

imagine: Steve walking shirtless through the upside down, feeling kind of self-conscious about his hairy chest (with all of gremlins stupid jokes about his body hair as well) until he sees one particular person being unable to tear their eyes off him - Eddie.

imagine: Eddie, lil smalltown gay Eddie, seeing Steve’s hairy chest and thinking: ‘fuck hell yes, I wanna bury my face in it sooooo badly’, because Eddie likes his men tall, beefy and hairy.

imagine: summer 1986, Steve and Eddie hanging out and smoking by a lake 5 towns over (no bat in hell could drag them back to fucking lovers lake, man!) and Steve not taking off his shirt. At first, Eddie thinks is might be because of the bat bites, so he takes his shirt off to show Steve that it’s ok, that there shouldn’t be any shame. The scars are the visual evidence that they fought and survived.

somehow, when it’s late, Eddie manages to drag a Steve into the lake for a swim and it’s then, that Eddie finally realizes that it’s not and has never been about the scars, but because of the chest hair and hairy arms and legs. because Steve is trying to shy away from him, thinking Eddie won’t really find him attractive like that.

They (let’s be honest, they seem like those type of idiots who would wrestle until one of them gets a boner and puff-gay) play in the water, and Eddie gets all handsy and touchy with Steve, grabbing his chest with one hand until a Steve shies away, saying ‘oh god, stop touching the hair. It’s disgusting’

and Eddie being Eddie, says ‘disgusting?! What?! Your chest hair? Baby, I wanna hold on to it so bad while you fuck me real good, there’s nothing disgusting about your glorious hair.’

‘but, wait - what. You want me to what?’

‘Baby, come on, don’t you know how fucking hot you are like this?! All hero - like… Harrison Ford? No, more like Sean Connery in James Bond, yeah?! Just sooo hot.’

imagine: Eddie obviously get his wish - gets fucked real nice while he’s allowed to grab Steve The Hair Harrington chest.

[maybeimamuppet]

the rainbow road

hello everyone!! 

happy priiiiide i actually genuinely did not plan having this be the first fic i posted in pride month but daaaaang it worked out lol

this was requested by OnlyHere4TheFandoms on wattpad. here it be yay :))

quite possibly the longest list of trigger warnings i’ve ever had haha oops 

pre-coming out misgendering/deadnaming 

trans/homophobia

child abuse

abandonment

bullying 

outing

self harm 

suicide attempt/ideation

implied ed

dslur

happy pride once again. whether you realized it like these kiddos or much later in life. whether you’re out and proud or watching from the closet. much love <33

enjoy!

—————

Janis still remembers the first time she thought something was up with her best friend. 

They were six years old. Having a play date at Janis’ house. Dana’s mom had come to pick her up, but they begged and pleaded and managed to get their mothers both to agree to another two whole hours while they had some coffee and caught up. 

They decided to play their favorite game, knights and princesses. Dana is always the knight. Janis doesn’t mind so much. She likes being the princess. Her old pink princess Halloween costume doesn’t fit so well anymore since she’s grown so much, but she can pretend it’s not so tight and itchy. It’s as easy as pretending the crown on her head isn’t plastic and standing on her dresser is as scary as being locked high away in a tower guarded by a fearsome dragon.

“Fear not, fair maiden!” Dana says, brandishing her sword against Janis’ puppy, Molly. “I will slay this foul beast and save you from your… uh… jail!” 

“Imprisonment, Dana,” Janis says with a roll of her eyes. She giggles as Molly chomps down on the foam sword and shakes her head, trying to steal the toy. 

“Hey! Molly,” Dana giggles, wiggling it gently to wrestle it back.

“You’re not supposed to eat it, Molly,” Janis laughs. Molly’s dragon hat is falling off, so she hops down and adjusts it. 

“Hey! You’re not supposed to get down! How am I supposed to save you now?” 

“I guess the princess saved herself this time,” Janis says with a shrug. She rolls on the ground to wrestle with the delighted pup and eventually rips off the dragon costume. “The beast is… vanished!” 

“Vanquished!” Dana admonishes.

“That’s it!” Janis nods. 

“We gotta read more storybooks, I think,” Dana says as she starts pulling off her foam armor. 

“I’ll ask for more for my birthday soon.” 

“Oh, yeah!” Dana nods eagerly. Janis pulls off her hot, itchy dress, but decides to leave the crown on. “Janis?”

“Yeah?” 

“D’you ever wish you could be a boy? And not just for dress up?”

“Mm… no,” Janis says. “Well, sometimes I wish that girls could kiss girls like boys get to. But I don’t think I wanna be a boy.”

Dana is quiet, running her finger over the new teeth marks in her sword. 

“Why?” 

“Nothing. You wanna play spacemans?” Dana says, dropping her sword on the floor. Janis will definitely be in trouble later if she doesn’t clean up, but that can wait. Spacemans comes first. 

“Yeah!” she says, conversation forgotten. 

—————

They were ten when they learned there was a word for everything. 

Dana had been deemed old enough to inherit her dad’s old work laptop after he got a new one. She quickly discovered the wonder of the internet. And a few of the horrors. 

Janis came over for a sleepover. They watched a few pirated PG-13 movies. Janis had to be talked into it, briefly fearing the police would find out and come to lock them up for good. Or worse, their parents. God knows what they would do. 

Dana reassured her that she had done this before and no police nor parents had ever found out. They’d be fine as long as they didn’t fess up. Janis was pinky-sworn to secrecy and let herself enjoy a few movies. 

“D’you remember when we were little and you said you wanna kiss girls?” Dana asks as the third one’s credits scroll on the fuzzy old screen. 

“What?!” Janis gasps. 

“Hey, you said it,” Dana says. 

“I did not! I don’t wanna kiss anyone!” 

“You did so!” Dana insists. 

“And besides, girls can’t kiss other girls!” Janis huffs. “It’s illegal.” 

“No it’s not,” Dana giggles. “It’s just illegal for girls and girls and boys and boys to get married. But my mom says they’re gonna change it soon.” 

“Oh,” Janis says. 

“So you can kiss girls if you want to.” 

“I don’t! Gross!” Janis groans, burying her face in her pillow. 

“Not even Regina George?” Dana teases. Janis rears up with a gasp and whacks her with a pillow. 

“You’re horrible!” 

“Ow, hey!” Dana laughs. “You’re horribler.” 

“That’s impossible,” Janis grumbles. 

“But I’m your best friend! We got the necklaces and everything!” Dana gasps. 

“They say cousins, Dana,” Janis says with a roll of her eyes. 

“My mom read the package wrong. At least they match,” Dana huffs, closing the laptop and rolling onto her back. 

“Why’d you ask me that?” Janis asks quietly, lying on her stomach next to her. 

“Ask you what?” 

“About the… kissing girls thing.” 

“Oh,” Dana says. “I found a website. I think it’s bad. But there’s a word for girls who kiss girls. Called lesbian. And another word for girls who wanna be boys.” 

“Really?” Janis asks. “We’re not the only ones?” 

“I don’t think so.” 

“Huh. What’s the word for you?”

“Transgender,” Dana recites immediately. She’s clearly done a good bit of research here. 

“Like Transformers?” Janis asks. 

“I think so. Cause they… transform.” 

“Into a boy?” 

“Yeah. But it can go the other way, too. Some boys wanna be girls,” Dana says in disbelief. “Who’d ever wanna be a girl?”

“I dunno. Girls are prettier. And they smell better,” Janis says. 

“When I’m a boy I’ll still be pretty,” Dana says. “And smell nice.” 

“You can turn into a boy?” Janis asks. 

“I’m gonna ask my mom soon. And my dad always says he wants a son. They’ll be happy,” Dana says. 

“Cool. Can I come when you transform?” Janis asks. 

“Duh!” Dana says. “You gotta make sure they’re not actually gonna turn me into a truck or something.” 

“Oh yeah,” Janis giggles. 

“Do… you think you’ll still be my friend? When I’m a boy?” Dana asks quietly. 

“Duh,” Janis retaliates, poking her best friend in the belly. “We got the necklaces, after all.” 

“Good. You wanna go watch Mulan in the basement?” Dana asks. 

“I’ll get the popcorn!” 

—————

Janis noticed how uncomfortable her friend looked being called a ‘she’ or a ‘her’ or ‘Dana’ after that day. Always a grimace or a wince. She’d fold her arms over her chest, almost like she was trying to keep down the things she knew were doomed to come. 

She never did around Janis, though. Something about their history together, Janis supposed. 

Then Dana’s dad left. 

They were eleven. 

It was November. They’d gotten home from school a few hours earlier eager for three extra days off of school for Thanksgiving break. 

Janis was playing in the backyard with her almost-five year old little sister when she heard two car doors open and close from the other side of the house and the doorbell echoing from inside. 

She continued pushing her sister on the swings, figuring it must be someone trying to sell something or convince them to find Jesus. Janis hopes that whoever this Jesus guy is, his family find him soon. Sounds like they’ve been missing him for a long time. 

“Janis, Julie, time to come in,” their father says. Janis looks up and shudders a bit at the dark look gracing his features. 

“But-” Julie begins to protest. 

“Now, girls.” 

“No fair!” Julie whines, climbing off the swing and moping inside. Janis has been bored for a while, and it’s getting dark and cold. She heads in with nowhere near as much complaint. 

She freezes when she sees her best friend crying at the end of the hallway and their mothers talking frantically in hushed voices. 

“Mama? What’s going on?” 

“Oh, Janis!” her mother gasps. “You scared me. Why don’t you go get Dana set up in your room, dear?” 

“Um… okay?” Janis says in confusion. “What’s-” 

“I’ll explain later. You two go get settled in. Dana’s spending the night tonight.” 

Janis knows the tense look in her mother’s brow means now is not the time to push. She gently tugs on Dana’s sleeve to get her to follow her upstairs. Dana sags onto Janis’ bed like a thousand pound weight is sitting on her shoulders. Janis has never seen her cry like this. 

Janis leaves her to her feelings while she gets a sleeping bag unrolled on the ground next to her bed and grabs a spare pillow. She hesitates briefly before she sits down next to her best friend. “What happened?” 

“I… I told them,” Dana chokes. 

“Told them what?” 

“That-that I want to be a boy.” 

“Oh.” Janis says quietly. “You still want to?” 

“Not anymore,” Dana growls. “Not if this is what people do.” 

“What do you mean?” Janis asks sadly. Dana turns to look at her head on, and Janis gasps when she sees the red, almost glowing, hand-shaped welt on her cheek. “Dana!” 

“Can-can you not call me that? Please?” Dana begs. 

“Okay. What-what should I call you instead?” Janis asks, pausing her concern for the briefest of moments. 

“I don’t know. Anything but that.” 

“How about… D?” Janis asks. Dana nods frantically. Or, D does. “D, who hit you?” 

“Dad,” D chokes. 

“Your dad hit you? He can’t do that!” Janis says. 

“He did anyway,” D sobs. 

“Why?” Janis asks, desperately trying to understand. 

“He-he called me a freak. He said I was confused, but I told him-him that I’ve been-been thinking about-bout this for a really-really long time. And then he… he hit me. And he left.” 

“He can’t do that!” Janis repeats. “Your mom better talk to him when he comes back.”

D looks at her sadly. She’s quiet for a minute before whispering, “He-he’s not coming back, Janis.” 

“What do you mean?” Janis asks, feeling her chest go cold. 

“He packed his stuff. He said he wasn’t gonna-gonna stick around if this is how I was gonna make-make him live. He said it wasn’t right.” 

Janis blinks in confusion. D’s dad was always a little scary. But she never would’ve thought the man who grilled them delicious cheeseburgers on nice summer days while they played in D’s backyard, the man who made them pancakes for breakfast after sleepovers, the man who sang embarrassing karaoke with them at D’s tenth birthday, the man who gave them sparklers on the Fourth of July and birthday presents and new stuffed animals… would do this. 

“I’m sorry, D,” Janis says, not knowing what else to say. “I’ll be right back.” 

D looks up in confusion as Janis says this and watches as she runs out of the room. Their moms have moved to the living room, and Janis’ stepdad is putting Julie to bed down the hall. Janis runs into the kitchen to grab an ice pack and a towel for D’s face, and some ice cream with two spoons. 

“Janis, sweetheart,” D’s mother says. “Did… did Dana tell you what happened?” 

Janis nods solemnly. “She wants to be called D now, Mrs. Leigh.” 

“D?” she questions. She nods tightly. It’s quiet for a moment before she says, “Thank you for being there for her, honey.” 

Janis just nods. She lingers for a second. Nobody says anything, so she takes a few steps back towards her room. When nobody stops her, she runs the rest of the way back. 

“Here,” Janis says when she makes it back. D jumps as the door slams open, still on edge from what happened earlier. She smiles just a little as Janis shows off the ice cream. 

They lie side by side, D holding the ice pack against her cheek and sniffling periodically as they silently enjoy their favorite chocolate chip ice cream. 

Eventually, Janis’ mom knocks quietly on the door. Janis looks to D, who nods hesitantly. “Come in.” 

Janis’ mom steps in and shuts the door behind her. “How are you doing, Dan- uh. D?” 

“I’m okay,” D says quietly. 

“Poor girl,” Janis’ mother tuts. D tenses. 

“Mama, don’t call her a girl anymore,” Janis scolds, noticing her friend’s discomfort. 

“I don’t wanna be a her either,” D mumbles softly. 

“What do you wanna be then?” Janis asks. D shrugs. 

“Do you want to be a he?” Janis’ mother asks kindly. D shakes her head frantically. 

“What else is there?” Janis asks. 

Janis’ mother mulls this over and says, “Could be a they. Somewhere sort of in between.” 

“You wanna be a they, D?” Janis asks gently. D ponders. 

“Could we try it out? Just for tonight?” they ask quietly. 

“Of course,” Janis’ mother says kindly. “Have you had dinner, D?” 

“Yeah,” D nods. 

“And we got ice cream, Mama,” Janis says. 

Janis’ mother chuckles. “Of course. Just don’t eat too much, you know it’ll make your stomachs hurt.” 

D and Janis share a look that says they’re definitely going to finish the entire thing. Janis’ mother rolls her eyes. She inhales heavily before she gently says, “D, sweetheart, I couldn’t… help but notice your hair.” 

D instinctively reaches a hand to the back of their head. Janis somehow missed the huge chunk missing of their formerly long, beautiful chestnut brown hair. 

“Do you want me to help you fix it?” Janis’ mother continues. 

D hesitates, the hand they have wrapped around the spoon shaking. They put it down and grip their thighs to stop it. “Um… maybe later?” 

“Of course. Let me know if you want, alright? You two have fun up here. Julie’s asleep, so keep the noise to a minimum, please.” 

“We will,” Janis sighs. 

“Thanks, Mrs. Ian,” D adds politely. Janis’ mother smiles before she leaves them to their ice cream, clicking the door shut behind her. 

“What happened to your hair?” Janis asks. 

“I cut it,” D says sheepishly. 

“No duh, stupid,” Janis snorts. “Why?” 

“I don’t want it long anymore. That’s how my parents found out,” D says, pushing some of the ice cream around the rapidly emptying pint before hesitantly taking another bite. 

“My mom’s good at hair. She does my stepdad’s all the time,” Janis says. “She still won’t let me dye mine, though.”

“But your hair is so pretty!” D gasps. 

“That’s what she always says,” Janis huffs. 

“Why do you want to dye it?” 

“Regina wants us to match,” Janis shrugs. “Kinda like a uniform.” 

“You’d look nice as a blonde,” D nods. “I like your hair dark, though.” 

Janis shrugs again. “It’s what Regina wants.”

“But what do you want?” 

“For her not to hit me again,” Janis chuckles. 

“She hit you?” 

“Yeah. Not hard. It’s fine,” Janis says. 

“Friends shouldn’t hit you, Janis,” D says. 

“I know that, Da- D. She didn’t mean it, it’s fine. Let it go.” 

D eyes her oddly, but doesn’t mention anything again. The handprint on their cheek fades as they huddle together under Janis’ pink duvet and watch The Little Mermaid. 

“D’you think your mom will still do my hair?” D asks softly, fiddling with a stray thread on the blanket. Janis checks the clock on the computer and sees it’s past midnight now. Her mom might be asleep. They’re definitely supposed to be. 

She shrugs. “If she’s still up, she probably will.”

They both roll out of the bed and head off to find Janis’ mom. They hear raised voices coming from the kitchen.

“Wait here,” Janis says when they reach the top of the stairs. D looks at her in confusion, but sits and watches Janis go down. Janis heads down the hallway and stands there, listening. 

“I just don’t want Janis hanging around those kinds of people, Ettie,” she hears her stepdad say. 

“And what kind of people would that be, Greg?” her mom responds. 

She can practically hear her dad’s grit teeth. “You know damn well.” 

“They’re eleven years old. Nothing is-”

“Exactly. Eleven is way too young to be exposed to that sort of lifestyle.” 

“How is a child living in a way that makes them comfortable a lifestyle?” Janis’ mother questions. 

“It just isn’t natural, Ettie!” her father insists. “What if she influences Janis to be… like that?” 

“You know damn well nobody can influence Janis into anything she doesn’t want to do,” her mother huffs around a sardonic laugh. “If Janis does come out as something, she will still be my daughter. And I’d hope she’d be yours too.” 

It’s silent after that. Janis shows her face from behind the wall and tries her best to make it seem like she didn’t hear their whole conversation. “Mama, D wants to know if you can help with their hair now.”

“Now? It’s late, don’t you two want to get some sleep?” her mother responds. She forces a smile, but Janis can still see the strain behind her eyes and the tension held in her brow. 

“Mama,” Janis huffs with a roll of her eyes. 

Her mother chuckles. “Of course not. Go get her- them set up in the bathroom, I’ll be right up.” 

“Mmkay,” Janis says. She heads back up to her best friend, trying to forget what she just heard. “D, come on.” 

D follows her to the bathroom and winces a bit as she flips on the light, having gotten adjusted to the darkness of the hallway. Janis’ mother comes up after a few minutes with a stool from the kitchen. She sets it in front of the mirror and tells D to sit down on it. 

“How short do you want to go? I can just even it out with what you cut, if you want, or I can go shorter if you want… something more masculine,” she asks as she snaps the hair cutting cape around D’s neck. 

“I think just even it out, please,” D asks sheepishly. Janis can see their hands moving under the cape and sits on the counter so they can see each other. 

“You sure?” she asks. D nods. 

“Alrighty then,” Janis’ mother says. She takes her hair cutting scissors and goes to work, occasionally turning D’s head this way and that to make sure it’s even and looks nice. Long chunks of brown hair fall to the tile around them as she continues. Eventually, D’s hair is all about even with their chin. It frames their round face, and D looks at themselves with a smile. 

“What do you think?” Janis’ mother asks as she brushes some stray hairs off the back of D’s neck. 

“I like it a lot,” D says. “Thank you, Mrs. Ian.” 

“Of course, hon.” 

“Now me!” Janis says eagerly, watching how D’s hair bounces and twirls at this new short length. 

“You?” her mother chuckles. “I don’t remember asking if you wanted a haircut.” 

“But I’m telling you I want a haircut,” Janis responds. “Pleeeeease?” 

“We have to match,” D adds, knowing they have more sway with their friend’s parents than Janis ever could. Janis’ mother rolls her eyes, but pats the stool. 

“Yes!” Janis says, eagerly plopping herself down. She panics a bit as her mom snips off the first chunk and she hears the scissors slicing through her hair. Her mother leaves her hair a little bit longer, but she does lose a good few inches. Janis’ is about even with her shoulders by the time her mother is done. 

“Matching enough for the two of you?” she asks, brushing Janis clean of stray hairs. D and Janis look to each other and nod eagerly. 

“Your hair is so curly, D,” Janis chuckles. 

“Yours is too!” D responds with a giggle. 

Janis’ mom rolls her eyes as they both reach out to tug on each other’s newly short hair and it naturally devolves into playful fighting. She tidies up and goes to grab her camera. 

Janis and D pose against the wall in the hallway, arms around each other and matching smiles on their faces. Janis’ mother snaps a few sweet photos. 

“Alright, you two, to bed with you. Just because you’re on break doesn’t mean you get to stay up all night,” she says when she’s satisfied with what she’s gotten. 

“Fine. ‘Night Mama,” Janis says. 

“Goodnight, baby girl,” her mother replies. She kisses her forehead and sends her off to her room. 

“Goodnight, Mrs. Ian,” D says sheepishly. They get a matching forehead kiss. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart. Sweet dreams, you two.” 

D curls up in the sleeping bag on the floor while Janis gets comfortable in her bed. Molly trots in and curls up at her feet, but it feels… off. Janis tosses and turns, feeling the minutes drag by and by. Sleep doesn’t come. 

Eventually, she flops onto her side to peer off the edge of the bed at her best friend. “Psst.” 

“What?” D groans exhaustedly. 

“Are you awake?” 

“No,” D grumbles. “Whayouwant.” 

“I can’t sleep,” Janis whines. 

D rolls over and squints at her in the darkness. “What do you want me to do about it?” 

“Can we still cuddle even though you’re not a girl anymore?” 

D rolls their eyes and clambers their way out of the sleeping bag. Janis winces at the icky metallic rustling noise it makes, but smiles victoriously as her friend climbs into bed with her. “Goodnight, D.”

“‘Night, Janis.” 

—————

Things are okay until seventh grade. 

Dana’s family adjusted to not having their dad around. It took time, but she and her mom were actually thriving after a few months. D’s mom went back to nursing school and took a job at the hospital, and Dana started a support group composed of kids with absent fathers to help them cope with the new change. Things were weird, but… good. Good weird. 

D flipped back and forth every day (and sometimes hour to hour) on how they wanted to be referred to. Some days are she-days and Dana days. Other days are they-days. Janis cackled the first time they referred to these as D-days. 

They had one he-day about a month ago just to try it. D was anxious. Janis didn’t mention anything, but it was the happiest she’d seen her friend in a long time. 

Regina stopped spending time with Dana. She said they dressed weird and didn’t fit with the group anymore. D actually seemed relieved to be out. Janis was still in, though, and Dana was fine with that. 

Until one brisk March morning. 

Janis is, as always, the first one at school since both her parents work early mornings. It’s cool but not too cold outside today, so she sits on the concrete steps outside the main doors and sketches out Regina’s birthday card. She’s turning thirteen next month. The party is sure to be a big one. Janis can’t tell if she’s excited or completely dreading it. 

She looks up when she hears clicking footsteps on the pavement next to her. Regina is there, surrounded by a flock of the half-popular girls who managed to get into Regina’s good books for today. 

“Janis, I just wanted to tell you that I can’t invite you to my birthday party.” 

Janis frowns in confusion and tucks her pencil behind her ear. “What? Why? I-I’m your best friend.” 

“I can’t invite you because I think you’re a lesbian,” Regina says. “It’s a pool party and there’s gonna be girls there in their bathing suits, I can’t have a lesbian at my party.” 

Fuck. Janis knew telling Regina she had a crush on Rapunzel in that new Disney movie would come back to bite her. She feels a burning behind her eyes and bites her lip to stop it trembling. Don’t be a baby. Not now. 

“I mean, are you a lesbian?” Regina titters. The girls behind her echo her like some sadistic flock of birds. “What are you?” 

Janis feels like she’s going to be sick. Something she’s never felt before is writhing and squirming in her gut. It rises, and rises, and… “I am a space alien and I have four butts!” 

Regina blinks at her for a second. Neither of them are quite sure what to make of what Janis just said in earnest. But Regina breaks first. She bursts out into that fakey pretty laugh that’s all she ever does now. Janis scrambles to grab her things and runs into the building, only letting a sob escape as the heavy metal door slams behind her. 

She debates running to the office to call home and ask to be picked up. But if she leaves, people will notice. People will ask. People will tell Regina. Regina will win. 

She can make it through today. Through this year. It’s already March, she only has about two months left. She can handle that. Even without who she thought was one of her best friends. Forever. 

Janis spends the morning hiding in a sneaky corner in the girls’ bathroom, not able to care if she gets marked absent or tardy in her classes. She doesn’t do anything. Doesn’t sketch or play games on her iPod or do anything. She just thinks. Counting off every time the bell rings. 

She can hear the rabble outside signaling lunch time. A few girls come into the bathroom to touch up their makeup or hide away from the tempting food they’re trying to avoid even though they’re already pencil thin. None of them see her, but Janis sees them. 

“Did you hear about Janis?” one of them asks. 

“Regina’s friend?” the other responds, sounding like she’s trying not to touch her lips together as she touches up some gloss. 

“Yeah.”

“No, what did she do?” 

Janis rolls her eyes. Of course those two-faces immediately assume she’s the one at fault. That she’s done something wrong here. Has she? 

“She’s a lesbian.” 

“A what?” 

“A lesbian. It means she wants to bang other girls,” the first says. 

“Gross!” the other groans. “We have to share a bathroom with her!” 

“I know! She’s probably been spying on us changing in the locker rooms all this time and we were none the wiser!” 

No, I have taste, Riley, Janis thinks to herself. And I don’t even want to bang girls anyway. Well, kiss some, maybe. But everyone wants to do that. Right? 

“Someone should tell the principal. She shouldn’t be allowed to be around other girls.”

“Right? It’s so creepy,” the other girl says. 

Janis doesn’t come out from her spot until she hears their heels clacking off down the hall and the door slamming shut after them. 

She almost doesn’t recognize herself in the mirror. Her blonde hair falls just past her shoulders. Her curls have stretched into more of a loose wave from the damage the bleaching has done to it. Being… forced straight. She looks like a clone of Regina George. 

She wants to claw her skin off beneath the pink polyester dress she’s wearing today. It feels like poison against her skin, seeping slowly into her bloodstream. It itches. It hurts. 

Does everyone know? Janis asks herself as she splashes some cold water on her face and tries to make herself look tough. Does everyone think… that? 

She jumps as someone else comes bursting in. “Janis! Oh, thank god, there you are.” 

“D? What are you doing, you’re not-”

“Have you been to your locker?” Dana asks frantically. 

“No. I’ve been in here all morning,” Janis says, holding herself protectively and looking down at her ballet flats. Despite all of Regina’s best efforts, she hasn’t gotten the hang of heels yet. Maybe she never will, now. 

D looks at her sadly. “You… you should come with me.” 

Janis eyes them suspiciously, but does grab her bag and finally leaves the bathroom for the first time that morning. “Where are we going?” 

“You’ll see,” Dana says with a grim tone. She winds through the hallways until they’re in the science hallway. Janis’ locker is here. 

She can spy it from a mile away. The normally blue metal is covered in neon sticky notes. Janis hesitantly steps closer. 

The post-its say various things. Go away, dyke and Lesbo and Pervert and Creeper. Some crude drawings scatter the mix, of things Janis doesn’t ever want to know. 

They outline something scrawled in Sharpie, directly on the metal. Space Dyke. 

Janis could recognize Regina’s handwriting anywhere. That swirly, excessive, frilly cursive. Janis always had a hard time reading it, but she understands this full well. 

This time, she can’t bring herself to be strong. The tears start to fall as she slowly picks off every little note stuck to the metal. She knew these people weren’t her friends, but for them to hate her this much… 

D stands a few feet behind and watches her, unsure what to do. She isn’t using new pronouns or a different name at school. Everyone thought she and Regina just had a falling out. They’ve never been through something like this themselves. 

Janis pulls the last note off with shaking hands and reads it. We know what you are. Leave us alone. 

She breaks down sobbing, dropping the notes at her feet and running as fast as she can towards the office. 

“Janis!” Dana calls, grabbing their things and running after her. 

The secretary looks very concerned as a crying girl comes bursting into the office at high speeds, rapidly followed by someone else. 

“I need- my mom,” Janis spits out, trying and failing to breathe through her sobs. The secretary nods and gestures to the phone on the desk for students to use to call home in emergencies. 

She passes a box of tissues across the desk as Janis picks up the receiver. Janis takes a few and tries to convey her thanks without speaking, knowing that if she tries she’ll only start crying harder. 

Her hands are shaking so hard she misses the first number of the area code. Her knuckles are white around the receiver and she bites her lip to try to force her body to cooperate with her. 

D gently takes the phone out of her hand. “Let me call. You sit down.” 

Janis wants to protest, but she knows she won’t be able to get across what she needs to in her state. She sits on the itchy seats and tries not to growl at a visitor staring at her. She wipes her eyes with the scratchy tissues. The school doesn’t even have the budget for real Kleenex. The tissues might as well be printer paper for all the good they’re doing for her skin. 

“Mrs. Ian? Uh, hi, it’s D. Um, something… something happened at school. Janis is really upset, she needs picked up.” she can almost make out Dana saying over her loud sobbing. 

Her mother says something on the other end. D absentmindedly raps their knuckles against the granite of the desktop. 

“I don’t really know the whole situation, Mrs. Ian. But it’s bad, from what I’ve seen. She really needs to go home,” Dana continues. “I’ll tell her. Bye.” They turn to see her. “Jan, your mom says she’ll be here for you in fifteen minutes.”

Janis nods and tries to breathe. It doesn’t work. She tries to distract herself from the whirling thoughts inside her head by looking around. Wooden table in the corner. Four chairs. Big windows. It’s nice outside today. That’s where Regina-

She shakes her head to snap herself out of it and looks back to the desk. She jumps when she sees D isn’t there anymore. Her stuff is, but not her. 

“Your friend asked to speak to the principal,” the secretary says, coming around the desk to restock Janis’ tissues and give her a bottle of water. 

“P-principal?” Janis chokes. 

“She said he needed to know something urgent.”

Janis puts her head in her hands. Now she really is going to get kicked out of school. Why would Dana tell on her? Did Janis really manage to lose both of her lifelong best friends in one morning?

She’s just about worked herself to the precipice of another downward spiral when Dana comes back with the principal. “Janis, may I speak to you?” 

Janis wants to say no, but she’s probably already in enough trouble. She stands and follows him back to his office. He sits at his desk and motions for her to sit as well. Janis hesitates before sitting down in the cold plastic chair. 

“Your friend told me something happened this morning. Can you help me fill in some details?” 

Janis shrugs and hugs herself, like if she does it tight enough she might just squeeze herself right out of existence. She sniffles and refuses to look him in the eye. 

“Can you tell me your version of events?” he asks. His voice is gentle, but Janis still doesn’t trust it. 

“I-I-I was sketching out-outside,” she begins shakily. He has to lean across his desk to hear her soft voice. Janis doesn’t care. “Re-Regina came… and… she said she could-couldn’t have me at-at her birthday party.” 

“And that’s why you’re so upset?” 

“Be-because she thinks I’m a lesbian.” 

She finally dares to glance up and sees the shock written across his face. “O-okay. Please continue.” 

“She said there were gonna be girls there in-in their bathing-bathing suits so if-if I’m a lesbian I can’t-can’t come. But I’m not! I-I’m not lesbian, I haven’t been-been watching the other girls! Not-not like that. I swear, please-please don’t kick me out of school!” 

“We aren’t kicking you out, Janis, I just need to know what happened so we can figure out the best course of action. This is a very tolerant school, I’m sure you know. Being a lesbian, even if you were, is not valid grounds for expulsion.” 

“O-oh,” Janis sniffs. “She… told everyone I am. I thought it was a bad thing.” 

“Some people believe it is,” the principal says. “I’m not one of them.” 

“Oh,” Janis says again. 

“Can you keep going? With what happened?” 

Janis nods shakily. “Everyone’s been-been talking about me. Saying I’m a gross lesbian a-and I’ve been peeking on other girls in-in the locker room-rooms. And that I-I want to have… um… with… with-with all of them but I don’t! And-and someone… someone wrote space dyke on my locker.” 

“Wrote what now?”

“Space dyke.” 

“Why would someone do that?” the principal asks. Janis shrugs. 

“Can I- can I go now?” 

“Of course. I’ll be speaking to Regina and some of the other girls this afternoon. Is your guardian coming to get you?” he asks. Janis nods. The principal pulls out a notepad and starts writing frantically as Janis turns and leaves. 

Her mom is waiting for her in the office with her backpack and the books she can’t fit into the little designer thing. Janis bursts into tears anew and runs in for some much needed comfort. 

“Shh, baby girl,” her mother hushes. “Let’s go home and get you calmed down. We can talk about what happened later. It’ll be okay.” 

Janis growls in the back of her throat. How can her mother say that when clearly nothing will ever be okay

ever 

again.

—————

The next couple years are a blur of traumatic experiences for the both of them. 

D finally settled on they/them pronouns and going by D all the time. No more Dana, no more girl. Janis still thinks they’d be happier as a he, but she doesn’t mention it. 

D started having panic attacks when they turned thirteen. They got their first period, and their body started changing in ways they weren’t comfortable with. Nobody knew what to do. 

Nobody but Janis. 

Janis was the only one who could talk them out of their panics. She managed to piece together that D felt like they were running out of time. Neither of them knew what they were running out of time for for a good long while. Until Janis put together that this all started along with puberty. 

D was put on hormone blockers a few months later to delay any further development in areas they weren’t ready for. Lo and behold, no more panic attacks. 

Janis didn’t have quite as easy of a time finding her solution. 

She tried getting in touch with Regina. She texted her desperately saying she wasn’t actually a lesbian and since she wasn’t actually a lesbian she could still be trusted at a pool party. 

Regina never answered. 

Janis cried the entire day leading up to Regina’s birthday. She was finally deemed old enough for social media that year, and her entire Instagram homepage as far as the eye could see was every other girl getting ready for a party Janis could never go to. 

D showed up to rescue her and took her out for ice cream and karaoke. Janis almost managed to forget the party as she begrudgingly belted out Disney songs and listened to D’s one-man performance of Fiddler on the Roof. 

But while everyone eventually forgot about the party, nobody forgot about the rumors. Everyone still gossiped about her in the hallways. In the restrooms. Locker rooms. At lunch. In class. 

Things escalated after a while. Janis knew Regina was the puppet master behind it all, playing the whole school like her sick little marionettes. 

She’d orchestrated some clever story to make herself look like the victim in Janis’ story, so she never had any repercussions for anything. She was free.

Free to tell the football team to use their strength to shove Janis into lockers and trash cans. 

Free to tell the other girls to give Janis a wide berth in the hallways and giggle at her clothes behind their hands and hold their breaths as she walked by so they wouldn’t catch anything. 

Free to tell the nerdy kids who sat behind her in class to jab her with pencils and rig her books so all the papers would fall out when she picked them up and leave cruel notes slipped through the slats of her locker. 

Free to tell anyone who could to re-write space dyke on her locker door whenever the school cleaned it off. Even when Janis got a new locker assignment. Even when she got another. Even when she had to start keeping her books in the office because her having a locker was doing too much damage to school property. They found a way. 

Janis couldn’t take it anymore. She started cutting herself over the summer leading to eighth grade. 

She knew it was bad. She knew she shouldn’t do it. She knew how it was bound to end. She knew the statistics she had learned in health class in sixth grade. 

But she couldn’t stop. 

Something about the burn of the blade being dragged through her pale flesh made the thoughts in her head less loud. For a while, all she had to focus on was the glint of the silver metal in her hand. The vibrant, almost glowing, red of her blood against her pallid skin. Watching it flow into the sink or the bathtub and slowly

slowly

stopping. 

It hurt so bad she couldn’t think about anything else. She decided the pain was worth it. 

She wore long sleeved dresses that went to her knees to hide the marks on her arms and her thighs. When too much scarred over she moved somewhere else. Her stomach, her chest, near her shoulders, her hips. 

She was fine. 

She stopped eating. 

She stopped sleeping. 

She lost weight. 

She looked tired. 

She was tired. 

So tired. 

She found a bottle of sleeping pills in her mom’s bathroom. 

She waited. 

She wrote notes.

She looked at the pills. 

She waited some more.

She took them all. 

Her mom found her. 

That scream won’t ever leave either of them. 

She spent a week in the hospital. 

She got her stomach pumped and her arms stitched up.

She stopped going to school. 

She was sent away to an inpatient intensive counseling facility. 

She hated it.

But it helped. 

When she was deemed to no longer be an active risk to herself, she was sent back home. 

The medicine cabinet was empty. The knives were locked in a cabinet she couldn’t reach. She wasn’t allowed to shave her legs anymore. Her dad’s tools were on a high shelf. The door to her bedroom didn’t lock anymore. 

Her dad looked at her with disgust in his eyes. 

Her mom looked at her with pity in her eyes. 

Her sister looked at her with betrayal in her eyes. 

Janis still needed help. She was kept out of school for eighth grade and started homeschooling with online tutors. She went to a pediatric therapist specializing in juvenile depression and self-harm. 

She discovered art. 

She really liked painting. 

Watching the paint flow across a canvas was much nicer. 

Seeing colors other than red. Other than bright, electric pink. 

She didn’t have friends anymore. 

Only D. 

D was there when she woke up in the hospital. They were there the night before Janis went to inpatient. They came to every visiting session. They cried every time they had to leave. 

They screamed at her. How could she do that to herself? Didn’t she think anyone loved her at all? What was she thinking? 

Janis cried and screamed right back. Called it healing.

D was there the day she was released to take her home. 

D was there to tell her every stupid thing Regina and everyone else got up to at school. Janis didn’t really care. D told her anyway. 

In a strange way, they held each other together. Two broken kids patching each other up bit by bit, and swapping little pieces of each other for themselves in the process. Growing together. 

And they changed, and they healed. 

—-

The real catalyst for everything came when they were thirteen. D finished eighth grade. Janis was in the crowd cheering at the top of her lungs at their graduation. They went out for ice cream with their moms and Janis’ sister on Janis’ last day of homeschool to celebrate. 

Their moms posed the idea there. 

A local Pride parade was being thrown in a couple of weeks. Their mothers thought going might be a good idea for both of them. Help them realize they aren’t alone. 

D agreed to go in a heartbeat. Janis was nervous, wary, but if D was going she just had to. They do everything together. You can’t have one without the other. 

They dressed for the heat and packed a bag of stuff they might need. D did some online research first and provided their moms a very helpful list. 

“Are you excited?” Janis’ mom asks when they’re on the way. 

“Yeah!” D says eagerly. Janis nods and wipes her sweaty hands on her pants. D wore shorts, but Janis still has things she’d prefer to keep hidden. 

It takes forever to find a parking spot, and it’s a long walk to their spots to watch the parade. D holds her hand and drags the both of them to the front so they’re close to the road and can see the whole thing. 

Janis jumps as a local school’s marching band kicks off and leads the whole thing. It’s loud, and colorful, and bright. People dance on floats and in the street. All sorts of things are thrown at them. Janis catches some things and dodges a few others. 

A person in nothing but a tutu and some sort of leather harness comes up to personally deliver them some plastic beads. D happily puts theirs on and almost chokes Janis forcing her into hers. 

Janis has never seen so many colors. So many people. People like them. It’s… amazing. 

The parade eventually comes to an end, and the crowd watching scatters to find various activities and foods and things for sale. Their moms trust them to walk around on their own, as long as D keeps their phone on. They head for a nearby field and wander aimlessly for a while. 

A couple doing the same thing catches their eye. They’re older, maybe in their early thirties. Holding hands. One isn’t wearing a shirt and has visible lines on their chest. The other has bright purple hair, a leather jacket with spikes, big black clunky boots, and heavy, dark makeup. 

They notice Janis and D staring at them after a few minutes and come to see what’s up. Purple hair greets them with a, “Hey.” and they both jump. 

“Sorry! We-we didn’t mean to stare at you!” D says frantically. They both laugh. 

“It’s okay. You get used to it looking like we do.” 

“I like your jacket,” Janis says shyly. The person wearing it chuckles. Janis sees she has a pin saying ‘she/her’ on it. 

“Thanks. You wanna touch the spikes?” she says. Janis nods eagerly, so the woman crouches down to let her gently run her fingertips over her shoulder. 

“Is this your first Pride?” her partner asks. Janis and D nod. “Fun! I was your age when I came the first time.” 

“Are you dating?” D asks. They both nod. 

“Are you?” 

“Eww, no!” D and Janis exclaim at the same time. They laugh again. 

“Friends are good too,” the woman chuckles. 

D is still looking at her partner. Specifically at their chest. They notice the looks and gently bring it up. “These are my top surgery scars.” 

“Top surgery?” D questions. 

“I’m trans. I was born female. Or, assigned female at birth, whatever. I had my breasts removed when I was in college and started my transition to help with the dysphoria.” 

D tilts their head. 

“Dysphoria is… hard to describe. But I couldn’t stand living in a female body. I got really depressed. I probably would’ve… wouldn’t have made it much longer if I hadn’t transitioned.” 

“How… how did you know? That you were all the way trans?” D asks softly. 

“That’s a good question,” they chuckle. “You can call yourself whatever you want. Being non-binary fits under the trans umbrella. But I spent a lot of time thinking about what I wanted my future to look like, and my past and what I wished I could change about it.

“I always kinda dreaded the idea of growing up and marrying a man, having kids and being a mom, things like that. I didn’t have any interest in being an aunt or a grandmother or… a woman. So I started thinking, and really liked the idea of marrying a woman if I got the chance, and being a father, or an uncle or grandpa. And I realized most of my memories with the most hurt from my past were moments where I felt… too feminine. Stuck, kinda. You know what I mean?” 

D nods shakily. The woman reaches out and squeezes their hand. “You have plenty of time to figure out who you want to be, hon. Take some time to explore. It’s okay to flip flop and change your mind all the time. It took this one more than twenty years to come to terms with who he was. The most important thing you can do is try your damndest to love the person you are enough to grow into the person you want to be. You’ll be just fine.” 

D nods again. Janis squeezes their hand too when she sees tears brimming behind their eyes. 

“And it seems like you’ve already got one person in your corner,” the man says. “You can’t control what the people around you do. Finding people like your friend here is really important. I lost a lot of people I really cared about, but finding people who love the real me and getting to love my body and who I am is so worth it. I promise.”

D seems too emotional to speak. Nobody asks them to. Everybody understands. Janis looks back to the woman. “How’d you get your makeup like that?” 

“Loads of practice,” she snorts. “You like it?” 

Janis nods. She’s never seen someone like her before. All the makeup she’s seen has been light and feminine. All she’s been allowed to wear has been pink and natural and dewey and glossy. The woman reaches into her pocket. 

“Here. I’ve never used this before. Consider it a… celebration gift. Something to get you started.” 

Janis opens the fingers she curled around it and sees a tube of lipstick. She untwists the lid and sees it’s the exact same dark purple color the woman is wearing. “Really?” 

“Of course. Happy first Pride, you guys,” the woman says. With a ruffle to their hairs, the couple is off. 

Both Janis and Damian are thinking the same thing. 

I wanna be them someday. 

——————-

D comes out as trans for the second time when he’s 14. They/them pronouns are no more, swapped for he/him. Janis and his mom helped him buy a whole new even more masculine wardrobe. Mostly flannels. Janis got a few too. Sue her, they’re comfy. 

He gets a haircut. Nice and short. Just long enough to still curl on the top, but buzzed everywhere else. A boy’s cut.

Janis shaves the side of her head in solidarity. Again, matching enough for them. But shaving her whole head is a bit much, she thinks. He agrees. 

He also starts experimenting with new names. He decided to stick with D as his first letter. Darius, Dante, Darcy and Darby all lasted about a week respectively. His mom suggested Darwin, which was scrapped almost immediately. 

Janis obviously only suggested the most ridiculous names she could find on baby name websites. Donatello, Delbert, Diesel, Dijon. And, of course, Dick. None of her suggestions were taken. 

It took months and probable hundreds of different names before he found the one that stuck. 

Damian. With an A, because Damien with an E just has the wrong vibes. 

He was Damian. 

Janis doesn’t think she ever saw her friend happier than when he finally got to be Damian. He smiles with his eyes again, something Janis hasn’t really seen in almost five years. He dances and sings and found a local theatre troupe to be part of in addition to all the school shows he’s in. He still gets cast as female roles, but he doesn’t seem so bothered by it anymore. Now that he knows he’s Damian, he’s just… pretending. His femininity is more like a costume he can alter to his will. 

Janis is glad for him. She still doesn’t know what the fresh hell is going on. 

She does think a lot about the woman from the Pride parade. How confident she seemed. How easy it was for her to be her. To be queer. To be happy. She said people stared at her all the time because of the way she dressed and did her hair and makeup. Janis slowly pieces together her own look. 

A jacket she found buried in the attic that belonged to her biological father. She left it hanging on her easel in her bedroom when the inspiration hit her and she started painting the jacket itself. Eyeballs, general swatches of nothing, demons and big bright handprints and even Frida Kahlo on her shoulder after one particularly interesting history class. 

Piece by piece, brushstroke by brushstroke, the jacket comes together. Becomes… hers. 

She buys t-shirts and fishnet tights from Hot Topic with cool designs and bands she’s started listening to. She distresses a few and leaves some plain. She buys denim shorts with spikes on the pockets and gems and frayed hems and puts designs on the backs and so much more. 

A hot day comes in the middle of summer. Janis can’t wear the long pants she usually does to hide the pink scars lining her thighs. She panics and putters around her room to find something she can wear to Damian’s first appointment.

She tries a few dresses, but none are long enough. Her shorts are even shorter. 

She’s about to give up and call her friend to let him know they’ll have to celebrate another time when her hand wraps around the swirly black tights with a design in lace in her underwear drawer. 

She tries them on underneath one of her pairs of shorts. She looks bitchin’. She smiles and grabs a random shirt to go with it and hopes she can make it through the day with her jacket on. Hiding her arms is a whole other monster. 

She runs outside when Damian texts her letting her know he and his mom are waiting for her outside. He’s up in the passenger seat, so Janis slides into the back and buckles herself in. 

“Hi, sweetie,” Damian’s mom greets. 

“Hi, Ms. Hubbard,” Janis says, panting a bit in the heat. 

Damian chatters eagerly the whole way about how excited he is to finally start his hormone therapies, even though it means getting frequent shots. He quite literally skips into the doctor’s office once his mom finds a parking spot. Janis doesn’t blame him. It took almost a year before they got the go-ahead to start hormone replacements. Janis did a lot of googling and found Damian was one of the lucky ones. Some people wait decades. 

Damian is bouncing in his seat in the waiting room a little bit, like a child who can’t sit still. Janis is a little more concerned about what’s about to happen to her friend, but she smiles at his antics and has to run to keep up with him once he finally gets called back. 

The nurse explains roughly what he can expect. To needlephobe Janis, a huge needle going into his poor thigh. But to Damian, it’s everything. Everything begins today. He starts the journey to become who he… is. To get his body to match what they all see him as and what he so desperately wants and needs to be. 

Damian’s entire future is contained in such a small vial. The nurse distracts him as she prepares the needle and the area it’s going into by talking about what he can expect. 

Soreness in his leg, obviously. She tells him it will take a while, but his voice will eventually start getting lower. He won’t have to force it artificially anymore. His body fat will rearrange slightly, again, over a very long period of time. He might even grow facial hair after a few months. 

Janis wonders how long it will take. How worth it this will all feel after three months, six, twelve. But Janis has also seen the hurt her friend has been through. How much he struggled and suffered as a girl. How much pain it brought him. 

She holds hand and his mom holds the other as the needle goes in. Damian’s face pinches briefly at the poke going into his leg, but he looks… relieved. After a single dose he looks like he could get hit by a bus in the parking lot and die a happy man. 

He’s patched up with a bandage and quite literally dances his way out of the establishment. Janis rolls her eyes affectionately and follows after him. His mom stays to get all the information she still needs before rushing to the parking lot after her stray children. 

“How you feeling, hon?” she asks as she slides into the driver’s seat. 

“Amazing!” Damian says. 

“That needle was huge,” Janis says, shuddering at the memory. It didn’t even go into her. 

“I didn’t look at it for a reason,” Damian replies. 

“Y’all want ice cream?” his mom asks.

Damian shouts, “Yes!” so loud Janis’ eardrums rattle. 

—————

Janis goes back to public school in ninth grade. 

It’s a new school, they’re in high school now. A new building. New faculty, some new students. Some old ones too, but she’s hoping either she’s changed or they’ve changed enough that the year will still go okay. Her goal is a month. Anything beyond that is a bonus. 

It’s a new start. 

It’s a nice feeling. 

She dons her new favorite outfit, fishnet tights underneath a dress she painted a design on yesterday to get ready for her first day. She adds her new denim jacket. She started painting it, but it’s still not as busy as she wants it to be. It just needs a little work. 

Her mom drives her since it’s her first day. They stop by to pick up Damian on the way, and he comes prancing down the driveway in all his flamboyant glory. 

His fashion sense actually hasn’t changed all that much since he started physically transitioning. He still wears lots of rainbows, theatre stars, and drag queens on his clothes, they’ve just gotten the more recent additions of flannels and jeans actually purchased from the men’s section. The drag queens are newer too. Damian made Janis watch the entire first season of RuPaul’s Drag Race at their most recent sleepover. Janis still sees all the sequins whenever she closes her eyes. 

Janis’ hands start to shake as soon as she sees the building. She’s been here for orientation and a special event just for incoming freshmen that the seniors put on, but knowing she’s here now for school… it’s different. Knowing there’ll be kids who know her there. Who knew the old Janis. 

She’d like to say she’s a whole new person now. But the truth is, under all her new makeup and the dark roots of her hair that are finally starting to show through the bleach-blonde and her huge jacket is the same petrified little girl in a pink dress that left that day in seventh grade and never came back. 

She’s literally shaking in her boots as she pauses outside the main doors. Damian squeezes her hand. 

“We’ll be okay,” he says softly. We. They’re doing it together. Janis nods and pushes her way in. 

Janis had to come one extra time to get to know the people in the guidance office after they saw her medical history and learned about the two months she spent as an inpatient. They worked some of their guidance counselor magic and got her and Damian the same schedule, and made sure she didn’t have a single class with Regina. They couldn’t do anything about lunch, but Janis isn’t worried too much about that. The cafeteria is big. She’ll find somewhere to hide. 

Damian goes to his locker first since it’s a little bit closer to the front of the school. He dumps his binders for the afternoon inside before following Janis as she tries to remember where her locker is. 

She pauses as she sees it. They haven’t even been in the building for twenty minutes and her locker already says space dyke in bold, black Sharpie. God, why couldn’t people just forget? 

It’s not Regina’s handwriting this time. Someone else did it. Maybe Regina moved on. Found someone else to torment. Maybe this is the work of someone else. 

Don’t get your hopes up. 

She sighs and shakes it off as best she can. Her books for the afternoon get shoved in unceremoniously and she follows Damian, slightly slower than they were going before, to their first period study hall. 

“You okay?” he asks gently. Janis nods and kicks a pebble someone dragged in to the side of the hallway. 

“Yeah. She doesn’t scare me anymore.” 

Damian nods too. “Tell me if anyone bothers you.” 

“You’re not my big brother, Dame, I don’t need you to protect me,” Janis sighs. 

“Oh, bitch, are you kidding? I could never, look at me,” Damian retorts. “But if you need me to tell someone. I will.” 

Janis nods, more an involuntary jerk of her head than much else. “I will.” 

Damian blessedly drops the conversation as he holds the door to their classroom and sits next to Janis at their desks. 

—-

Things don’t fall apart until lunch. 

She and Damian find part of a table in the furthest corner, blocked in by some juniors and seniors. They look at them oddly, for more than one reason, but there’s a group that seems to realize these kids need to be where they are and willingly sit close. Janis hopes everyone in their grade is that mature by the time they’re juniors too. 

They start to relax. Lose some of their hyper vigilance they haven’t noticed they’ve been holding all day. 

And then people around them start chattering. 

One by one, like they’re doing the wave at a sports event. It picks up volume, louder and louder… and then Regina is behind her. 

“Janis? Oh my god, is that you?” 

Janis bristles. Feels the hair on the back of her neck stand up like she’s just walked into a haunted house. She turns around just enough in her spot so Regina is in her line of sight, but not enough to make her vulnerable to any kind of attack. “Yeah?” 

“What are you doing over here, come sit with us. We got the good table in the middle,” Regina says. Janis… laughs. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” 

“What?” 

“We haven’t talked in a year and a half, is what!” Janis cackles. “You ran me out of school!” 

“You totally overreacted, it was not that bad, come on,” Regina huffs. 

Janis can’t believe what she’s doing as she rolls up her jacket sleeves. Regina bristles and stares at the still bright pink marks lining up and down Janis’ forearms. That’s not even close to half of them. “Wasn’t it?” 

Regina recoils in disgust. “On second thought, stay here. Freak.” 

Janis sighs and sits back down, picking at her rubbery pizza and trying to ignore every single person in the vicinity staring at her. 

Part of her wants to stand on the table and yell. Say so what if I used to cut myself? Say you’d do the same if only you knew what she did to me. Stomp and scream and rule the school. 

Another part of her almost said yes to Regina. 

And Janis is violently thrown back in time. 

Back to seventh grade. Before her life fell apart. 

Blonde waves falling down her shoulders. Pink dresses and glittery makeup and lip gloss and too much perfume. 

Following Regina around like a lost puppy. Carrying her books. Doing her bidding. 

Falling head over heels for that blonde girl who somehow had her pinned under her heel and wrapped around her little finger at the same time. 

She can’t stomach anymore. 

Regina 

was

right. 

—————

Janis stumbles around until the end of the day when it’s time to be picked up. She tries not to stare at every girl she sees. 

She takes quick glances. Compares them to the boys in her classes. Who would she rather date? Rather kiss? Rather hug and cuddle and- well. 

She comes to a rather hasty conclusion. Boys are still gross. 

She’d thought, being the mature age of fourteen, that she would’ve gotten over not wanting to be with a boy. Apparently not. 

She consults Damian in art. 

“Do you still like boys now that you’re a boy? Or do you like girls?” 

“I dunno,” Damian shrugs. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

Janis hasn’t either. She started to, she did. Back when Regina first did everything in middle school. Janis definitely had a lot to think about. But she was hurt, and then spent all that time in therapy and decided to put it off until she was better suited to handle such thoughts. 

Nice going, dumbass, now what the hell are you?

“I think… I might actually like girls.” 

Damian nods and pokes at his lump of clay he’s trying desperately to form into an ashtray. “That’s cool.”

“It is not cool! That means Regina was right all along!” 

“So?” Damian shrugs. “She wasn’t right about everything. Like her hair color. Ew.” 

“She’s blonde, what do you mean? You know what, never mind.” 

Damian just shrugs again. “It’s not a bad thing if you are. Don’t let Regina scare you out of it if you think it’s actually who you are.” 

Janis sighs and goes back to her painting. She has a lot to think about.

—-

And think she does. The next month is spent researching and looking and comparing and testing and everything she can think to do. 

She still doesn’t want it to be true, but the more she finds, the more lesbian feels like the right label. She’s still not sure, though.

One thing is definitely true, however, and that is that she likes girls. Even the girl she hates most in the entire world seems… like she’d be a good kisser. Gross. 

Now she has to tell people. 

It’s what Damian did. He realized something, and told his family. It’s how it goes. This isn’t something she can just keep to herself. 

She sits her mom and stepdad down on the couch after dinner that night. Julie’s in her room playing before bed. She can come later. Janis still doesn’t know how to explain this in a way she’d understand. 

“What’s up, sweet pea?” her mother asks kindly. Janis fidgets with her hands and looks down. 

“I… I think… Regina might have been right,” she mumbles.

“About what?”

“I like girls,” Janis says in one quick breath, forcing herself to look up at them. She can see the shock strewn across their faces. 

“You’re a dyke?” her father asks. Janis freezes. 

“Greg!” her mother chides. “Don’t call her that!”

“What, I can’t call it like it is? We’ve raised a dyke, Ettie! Look at her,” her dad insists. Janis looks desperately at her mother. 

“We have raised a girl who likes other girls and nothing more,” her mother growls, standing and stalking over her dad. “Now you leave her alone.”

“Or what?” her father retaliates. 

“Stop it,” Janis begs around a sob. “I-I’m sorry, I-I-I won’t-”

“You’ll shut your trap is what you’ll do,” her dad growls. “And you’ll get out of my house.”

“This house is in my name, you ass,” her mother retaliates. “If anyone is leaving, it’s you. I’m not letting you speak to our child this way.” 

“I’m talking to her the way she needs to be talked to. Do you want her corrupting Julie?!” 

“She’s barely a teenager! She can’t corrupt anyone, she’s not doing anything wrong!”

“Daddy, please,” Janis begs. 

“Don’t you go calling me that now. I clearly didn’t do enough. I’m not your dad anymore.”

“Get. Out.” her mom growls furiously. 

“I’m taking Julie,” her dad insists as he stalks off to pack a few things. 

“Like hell you are!” her mom says. 

“This is your fault, you little freak,” her dad says, pointing a rough finger into Janis’ chest. Janis sobs and tries to step away. Her dad looks at her for a second. Time moves in slow motion. 

He growls, lifts a hand. Brings it down across Janis’ face with as much force as he can muster. Janis gasps as she hears the impact. The pain takes a few seconds to hit her. The hit was hard enough to numb the sensation for the briefest of moments. 

She wails when it does and steps away. She wants to run, but she can’t leave her mom alone with this man who used to call Janis his daughter. 

Her mom swings without hesitation. Evidently she can handle herself just fine. 

“Have you gone crazy, woman?!” her dad yells. “Goddamn!”

“I told you to get out,” her mom says. “You’ll get a second black eye to match that one if you stick around.” 

Her dad spits on the ground near where Janis is cowering before he stalks off without another word or any of his things and slams the front door behind him. 

“Oh, baby girl,” her mom hums desperately, rushing to pull Janis into her arms. Janis tries to be strong for her mom, who seems to have just lost her husband for good, but all she can bring herself to do is cling to her mom and cry into her shoulder like a broken child. 

Broken child. 

That’s all she is.

“Should I call Damian’s mom?”

Janis can only nod.

—————

Janis doesn’t come out to anyone else until she’s almost seventeen. 

Nearly three years spent trying to crush down and destroy any feelings she has for any girl is miserable. 

But she can’t lose anyone else. 

Damian sees the way she looks at some of their classmates. At Regina. 

He knows. Janis doesn’t tell him, but he knows. 

In the time since Janis’ latest incident, he’s come out as gay, too. He said an experience at his arts camp the summer before their sophomore year confirmed the entire thing. 

Janis consoling him after Philip cruelly rejects his Edible Arrangement just feels like par for the course for the both of them at this point. 

They both know. They don’t ask. They don’t tell. 

They can’t. 

—————-

Junior year is almost too much for the both of them. 

It starts out so strong. A few really good days without a single taunt from Regina. Enough for them to hope she’s finally given up some of her grip on the school, eased off on her reign of terror. 

And then 

comes

Cady.

Some part of Janis deep, deep down inside knows she’s going to be an issue. 

Damian knows Janis is in love as soon as he sees the little redhead in the bathroom stall and the way Janis looks at her. 

Some part of both of them knows this won’t end without heartbreak. 

They’re right.

Things start falling apart spectacularly before they even reach winter break. Janis’ plan to have a sneaky spy infiltrate the Plastics and report back has completely backfired. By spring, Cady’s totally brainwashed. Lost. Hypnotized by the pink sequins and popularity. 

Janis hasn’t cried this hard since seventh grade. Not even when her stepdad left. 

Damian holds her together with one hand and putters the Jazzy home with the other. Well, technically he drives to his house. But it’s always felt like a second home to Janis. 

His mom gives her a good squeeze and gentle advice before shooing them up to Damian’s room with the promise of milkshakes to help lift their spirits a little. 

Janis disassociates and sips at her cookies and cream milkshake all through Mulan. She’s lost track of how many times she’s done exactly this. Sat cuddled under bed covers with Damian and watched this exact movie on this ancient laptop. In all their various forms over the years. 

She cries some more when the movie ends and she doesn’t have anything to distract her from her sadistic thoughts. 

Damian holds her close. He cries a little too. They talk. Damian refuses to let her sleep in the sleeping bag on the floor in her state and aggressively spoons her until they both drift off dreaming of happier times. 

And those times do come. 

The clouds part. 

So does Regina’s spine.

It helps, but not as much as Janis thought it would. 

The biggest change is Cady. She comes storming into the gym at Spring Fling in her Mathletes uniform and Janis knows in that moment that Cady has her heart and Janis would happily break it for her. 

Janis stares as Cady wins Spring Fling Queen and holds that stupid plastic crown in her hands and gives the most beautiful speech she’s ever heard. Damian gasps behind her as she snaps the crown into as many pieces as she can and tosses them to anyone within reach. Regina, Gretchen, Karen, even Kevin. Damian gets one. 

And then Cady is in front of her. The last piece is still in her hands. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Janis says, her chest aching. Cady reaches up on her tippy toes and puts the rest of the crown on Janis’ head. Janis flashes back to ten years ago. Playing princess with Damian. 

It feels even more real now. 

Cady apologizes. They dance. They leave early and go get pancakes. They cry and apologize some more. 

And for the first time since September, Janis has hope for her future. 

—————

Janis still thinks about those moments well into her adulthood. She doesn’t know that she’ll ever stop. That the moments will ever leave her.

She doesn’t know that she wants them to. 

She and Cady get married when they’re 23. Damian finally gets his top surgery later that year, and has two of his favorite people there to support him through his recovery. 

Cady is the one who goes with him to finally get his name and gender changed on all his important documents. She throws a party when it’s all over, a sort of late ‘gender reveal’ with a blue cake and confetti and streamers. 

Aaron comes. 

He and Damian get together when they’re 24. It’s a beautifully ironic thing, that Janis and Damian wound up with who they did instead of it being the two of them like it always was and Cady and Aaron together. 

Cady and Janis become mothers when they’re 28. 

Damian is the best uncle to their twins. Janis doesn’t know that she’s seen him happier than when he’s cuddling with his boyfriend and his nieces. 

The girls are flower girls in his and Aaron’s wedding. 

Damian and Aaron adopt three children when they’re 36. 

They celebrate Pride as one huge family. The kids all love the parade and seeing other kids from queer families they can play with. Seeing other people like themselves. 

Cady takes the twins to a craft setup for younger kids. Damian’s youngest goes with them while the oldest two follow Aaron to get food. Janis and Damian are left wandering around on their own for a little while. 

Damian taps Janis and points surreptitiously at some kids staring at them. Janis smiles widely and follows him over to them. They crouch down to their height. 

“Hi,” Damian greets kindly. “What are your names?” 

Janis knows in that moment.

They made it.

—————

thank you for reading!! 

i think i would be remiss if i posted this without acknowledging that our trans and non-binary siblings are under attack in my country right now. there is no LGB without the T and if you think otherwise. piss off. if you can do anything at all, please look into how to support queer communities in your local area. 

also, while i am non-binary, i don’t ID as trans. i based this off of some of my own experiences and those of a few of my trans friends i’ve been blessed to witness over the years. and also just… what i think it was like for these two growing up. it’s my own personal headcanon. if your journey was different, that’s okay. if your destination is different, that’s okay. queer people are not a monolith. we’re all walking this rainbow road together, but we’re all our own folks. 

anyway. rambling over lol, happy pride and thank you again for reading!!

lots of love,

ezzy

[bonesandthebees]

wilbur hates the wilderness survival adventure. tomys says it's time to suck it up and try. his paranoia then tomys being like *checks nonexistent watch* can we do fire things now. wilbur just broke down .2 seconds in and tomys 'i've done this randomly lost in the wilderness before' ione finds the wood. ah this is great. shows cool character things as well as a little forced bonding already fantastic.

'When i was a kid", Wilbur bit back the urge to remind him he was still a child' the banter is there i can feel it. not there yet but ah well i can dream.

the leg. yeah tomys is way more experienced than wil in this at least in terms of how to handle a wound. but of course the history shit helps - great 'application of skills' wilbur. techno would be proud. anyways splint making time.

'i'm not going to leave you willum' aw thanks tommy. promoting the brotherly bonding i see. yeah it's because he saved your life but you're just a kind boy and trying to tell paranoia supreme over here that you're dragging him back there.

wilbur keeps getting surprised. bro you brushed him off basically immediately as a naive mischievous little brat. only you to blame for that part. then you jump into finally seeing him as being worth the effort in getting close because you had to actually be in a life-threatening situation to truly start the bonding. try seeing beyond your own self-gain for a little bit.

ayo phil POV???? man this guy in general is my favourite, like yeah i appreciate the well-written wilbur but phil's always gonna be my blorbo no matter how fucked up he is. my mans loves his kid. ooooh boy whoever sent the bandits is fucked now. phil's going to tear them apart haha. - :D

man when you phrase it like that it really is hilarious. wilbur really did just break down and lose his mind .2 seconds into being lost in the wilderness. tomys is 13 and handling this shit better than the 19 year old. he's such a cushy palace kid 😭

oh the banter will get there

see kids history tests can be very relevant to the real world

"paranoia supreme" 😭😭

to be fair wilbur wasn't just dismissing tommy for being a little shit (although that was a lot of it) but also because he's been supporting niki for the throne his entire life. he's definitely been peeved at the idea of the plans the two of them have had since childhood being ruined so quickly

PHIL POV YESSSS I really do love writing in his pov he's such a fun character to explore and rose!phil is especially interesting for me. phil's going to kill a bitch for this :)

[muffimtv]

https://www.tumblr.com/ashe-hallows/724195547623407616?source=share

ALL

1. what medium do you use most?

digital art, using my ipad and procreate! i also sew an insane amount

2. most popular piece?

probably my fursuit (a few hundred thousand views on youtube if that counts?)

3. your favorite piece(s)?

MY FURSUITS!!!

4. piece you wish got more love?

my sticker designs!

5. how would you describe your art style?

cutesy, simple, colorful

6. favorite thing to draw?

animals

7. easiest thing for you to draw?

sharks

8. thing you struggle to draw?

HANDS.

9. whats something you always come back to when drawing?

colors, i always change the colors on my piece one billion times

10. how do you deal with artblock?

cry, watch something that inspires me, cry

11. do you listen to anything while drawing?

music! i listen to EVERYTHING

12. describe your process while drawing

rough sketch (shapes, no detail), second sketch (detail), lineart, color, change color, change color again, lighting, tiny detail

13. talk about a wip you like!

MY STICKER SHOP. i have all my designs done i just need to actually set up a website!

14. whats your favorite thing about drawing?

seeing my silly ideas come to life

15. least favorite thing about drawing?

my godawful posture

16. how do you motivate yourself to draw?

i don’t! i get an idea in my head and it eats away at my brain function until i draw it

17. what is something youre confident about in your art?

i love love love my colors

18. something you feel like you need to work on?

people. since i started working on my stickers i’ve been neglecting my people drawing skills

19. where do you find inspiration?

a lot of inspiration comes from MilkyTomato! I work for her, and it’s really motivating to see her success

20. is your workspace, digital or not, organized (not neat, organized)?

my workspace for drawing is typically my bed, so uh. but for sewing it’s generally neat and organized! i have a pegboard for all my things

21. what do you think your artstyle would taste like?

rainbow sherbet

22. do you have a favorite color palette to work with?

pastels!

23. how many artstyles can you work in confidently?

three ish? my sticker style, my people style, and i can dip into realism on occasion

24. whats a compliment about your art that has always stuck with you?

a friend told me that my art feels huggable a year or so ago and i think about it always

25. what size canvas/paper do you use?

i typically use the square canvas setting on procreate

26. what do you physically draw with (pencil and paper, tablet, etc)?

my ipad babey

27. do you ever have multiple wips going at once?

always all of the time. i can never do just one thing

28. whats a piece you would like to redraw at some point?

i would love to redo some of my older ranboo fanart

29. do you use a lot of references while drawing?

oh hell yeah dude i cant live without references

30. whats something youre proud of about your artstyle?

COLORS

31. which fandom have you drawn the most for?

probably mcyt tbh

32. have you done a lot of collabs?

nope :(

33. have you taken a lot of classes for art?

not really? i took art in middle school and i did a semester of animation but that’s all

34. whats something you still like from your old art?

the love i can see in it

35. if you had one piece of advice to give your younger artist self, what would it be?

KEEP DRAWING!!! TRY NEW THINGS!!! GET SILLY!!!

[revanchistsuperstar]

holy hell, have I just had the throwback of a lifetime. dude, way on back when I was a confused unhappy little early-pubescent grub (11-14), I was obsessed with cosplay (still am) and would spend time religiously trawling deviantart and tumblr for crossplay advice, ways to bind and masculinize my face and walk and talk and comport myself more masculinely. I kept saying it was for character accuracy, but of course, there was more to it than that.

to shorten it all up, this tutorial of yours https://www.tumblr.com/revanchistsuperstar/70647041474/new-and-improved-ftm-crossplay-tutorial-if-you?source=share came up on my pinterest earlier and threw me back, after not seeing it for years now. I didn't even remember you were from middle tennessee! I googled the title of the tutorial to see if I could find the OG post, and was so glad to see you're still active on this account so many years later.

I just wanted to tell you that that tutorial was very impactful for me as a fellow southern queer kid. while I never did figure out how to make it work on my chubby, puffy little child face at the time (have gotten a bit better at makeup lately, still no pro but certainly better,) it was something to aspire to, and it was something that got me through a lot of waiting and confusion and self-discovery, knowing I *could* look like a man eventually, whatever that meant for me.

thank you for posting your tutorials online. I'm sure I'm not the only queer kid you've helped simply by being out and proud, but I wanted to tell you personally about how much you helped me survive puberty, the aspirations of passing, or at least being happy in myself regardless. I finally fully accepted myself at the end of last year, and came out to my parents early this year. It's been a lot to cope with, but life feels more promising now that I'm not hiding, and that I can seek medical transition knowing myself.

again, thank you so much for posting your tutorials. your pride has positively impacted me, and no doubt many others. I truly hope you've been well this past decade, and may the future remain bright for you. <3

Holy shit! Well way to go, and best of luck!

That tutorial is over 10 years old, that’s wild.

Believe it or not, I had my gender in no way figured out whatsoever when I was posting those, took me forever to realize what I had going on. I’ve been out as trans of some sort since 2011, but I only came out as a gay trans man and started medically transitioning a little over a year and a half ago.

But yeah I’ve been doing drag now for about 13 years! Vastly improved since the DeviantArt days lol. I now work professionally as a hair and makeup artist for stage and occasionally screen, so that’s what over a decade of plugging away at something can get you.

Glad the tutorial was helpful for you, being that it was one of the only masculinizing makeup tutorials out there on the internet at the time that I made it, its had pretty far reaching effects. Recently I’d been settling in to realizing that even though I’m only in my 30s, because I started drag in my teens I’m now becoming an elder of the drag king art form and as my co-producer from my drag troupe put it, I’m the Velvet Underground of drag kings. 🤣 But I’m glad it helped with your gender feels too!

Keep on keeping on!

[galactic-pirates]

Share a snippet from a wip without giving any context for it.

Any writing advice that works for you and you feel like sharing?

How do you come up with fic titles? What's the one you're most proud of?

Thanks for the ask! :) :)

19) Share a snippet from a wip without giving any context for it. Part of me wants to skip this and substitute another question but I am working on some art for the Librarians exchange at the moment. That has to be secret but I don't think it's too much of a #Spoiler to do one line like

"Librarians win with what they know - not magic!"

36) How do you come up with fic titles? What's the one you're most proud of?

I'm quite fond of song titles to be honest. Not usually lyrics, or not formatted as such anyway.

Another place I have looked for titles are episode titles. Not for the show I am writing for usually, but from any show I have watched and liked. I used to keep a text file with a list of titles I had seen that I liked, and when titling a fic I checked that list first to see if anything fit.

Sometimes there is a line in the fic, or the prompt that inspired the story, that just demands a certain title.

As for the one I'm most proud of? Monstrare, Monere perhaps. A Warehouse 13 oneshot. The actual fic itself I am a bit meh about after all this time, but the title and summary I am like "I wrote that?" I also really like and the Sins of Atlantis. Totally self-indulgent ridiculous fic which I enjoy more than I should. It uses the same episode title structure as the Librarians show (I did that for all my prompt month fics that year, which I loved). I particularly like this one though as I feel like there's so many layers to it. Sins - so evocative, so many questions. Atlantis - how? why? I don't know. It was fun.

(Under the cut for the writing advice because despite making myself stick to just one point, I still went on a lot. Oops.)

28) Any writing advice that works for you and you feel like sharing? Ooooh boy ok. The answer is both lots, and nothing, because writing is very individual. I can advise based on what works for me but it's so much a YMMV situation. I always feel like any writing advice needs to be prefaced with this.

So I don't write an essay (and I probably will anyway) but I will stick with just one point so it's not thousands of words. It's actually something I read once and no it isn't the classic "I can fix a bad page not a blank page" (which is also good advice btw). It's actually a point I super hated for a long time and that is probably why I have forgotten where I read it, so I apologise for the lack of attribution. The quote was something like - "Write what you want to have written, not what you want to write." Now that's crazy talk right? Well yeah, and I hated it, but I see the wisdom in it now.

Now a personal anecdote to illustrate the point. Writing fanfic brought me joy. I loved the plots coming together, how I could sneak in references. I don't know if this is egotistical to admit but I still re-read my old fic sometimes - I was my own intended audience - and I love it. However, I have original novel ideas. I have a dream of publishing. It's a future that I would like to build. Possibly just a fantasy but it's a dream that I've held for decades and it scares the hell out of me. Writing novels is hard. It's facing the fear of never being good enough every day, and making myself do the work anyway. Writing fanfic is so much easier and (for me) it became a way to self-sabotage.

Now I owe fanfic a tremendous debt because it has broken through writers block, it has given me soooooo many ideas that I have mutated into something else entirely. Don't ever think I don't respect fanfic but I'm chronically ill and I only have a limited amount of spoons. I have written novel-length fanfic and pouring weeks/months into a fanfic, was weeks/months I wasn't spending on my original work and I hated myself for that. I was writing something that I really wanted to write but even in the middle of the process I was sometimes like "what am I doing???" and questioning my life choices. I love my fanfic ideas and I get so nostalgic sometimes for the ones on my list that I never got round to writing.

Fanfic was something I desperately wanted to write, but it was not what I wished to have written. It brought me short-term joy for long-term anguish if you like.

So my point - my writing advice - is essentially a riff off "life is short". Be damn sure before you invest so much of yourself creatively in a story (whatever that story might be), that you won't get hit by regret later. It's so easy with fandom events: exchanges, bingos, prompt months etc. to get bursts of inspiration and giddy FOMO, only to get months down the road and wish you hadn't happened that earlier WIP.

We all have a story to tell right? So don't write what you think will get you kudos/comments. Write what is in your heart to write. Not some surface level impulse, but what you will be proud to have committed to a year down the road.

I can't bring myself to regret any of my fanfics. Hell as I said I enjoy reading them. But I had to stop so my energy could be focused in a direction that brought my longer-term peace, rather than short-term joy.

Fandom can be a fickle place, and also playing in someone else's sandbox can turn to ash. When a show has gone in a direction I can't follow, or when there's drama in the fandom, it has stolen my joy. I suppose what I'm really get is with writing, it's a creative journey, it's pouring so much of your soul into something. Protect your mental health. Invest yourself wisely.

Write with joy.

[zorume-star]

🍲🍥🍙!

Hey ! Thank you for the ask Saint 🥰

🍲 When did you start writing and why?

Well... As soon as I was able to write, I guess ? I remember writing stories as a child. I mean, they never got past the third chapter but I always loved to write !! I specially loved creating characters. They were mostly inspired by cartoons, series and movies I was watching or books I was reading, even though I was mostly creating "original" stories when I was a child. I moved on to mainly fanfictions because of One Piece, which I discovered when I was 13 :D

🍥 What's your favorite fic you've written?

I will answer something that y'all will hate. BECAUSE I HAVEN'T POSTED IT YET !!!!! It's my One Piece self-insert which I'm currently writing (in french). I started 3 years ago and I went from Loguetown to currently post-Enies Lobby and I was supposed to start posting it after ending Alabasta arc..... Oooops !!!

But it's definitly my favourite and the best thing I've ever written. I'm having a lot of fun writing it and it also serves as my therapy, lol. I started it under depression and now I'm healed :)

I hope I'll get the energy to re-read and edit the first chapters in order to post them on AO3 !!

🍙 Is there a fic you wish had gotten more attention?

Oooh, that's an interesting question 👀 Actually, it did have a little attention on WattPad, like, a good comment I was really glad to read, but I was really happy with this one shot about Jinx from League of Legends : Jinx Was Here !

It's old now, and I'm pretty sure it sucks (oh and, still in french, I don't write a lot of fanfictions in english 😢) but it was the only one shot I was actually proud of. I'm usually a "big monster of 30+ chapters" or "will never have an end" kind of writer and with this one I managed to keep it short so, yeah. I like it a lot. Plus I never had written about LoL before and Jinx is very special hehe (she's my bestfriend's absolute fave character) (not that he would have read it, he's not into fanfiction) so I kinda wish it had a little more attention !

Thank you again for the asks 💜 Here is the list if you wanna ask !

[selfundiagnosed]

Insane that my mom ran the most popular patrick stump archival blog on tumblr + was a full time lawyer + was raising two mentally ill kids + doing culinary arts school + having a cookie business. I think its her autism i wont lie. But now its all catching up to her and she has no energy which would be the ehlers danlos fault this time.. tried to convince her to steal her old url back but on cohost so she made an account but couldnt immediately make side blogs but boy oh boy. she would be giving the fall out boy fandom what they want and more. Shes like i cant do it again i have no idea how i did it before im like ma! its called having boundaries. Shes like i cant do that when i have a special interest its called autism. Im like right but queue posts for once a day and find 30 pictures from a photo set and boom one months worth of posting fall out boy and you can conserve your energy. But she doesnt know how to do her special interests in moderation. Im honestly just glad she went and accepted a bunch of access to her mega archive folder thingy. But shes so mad she doesnt have access to like her actual archive bc the website she used go archive everything changed their subscription plans and she has so many photos it would be like a zillion dollars she doesnt have 😭 like bogus i remember photo storing websites were so free. Take me back to 2010 for real :T Anyway she used to get so mortified when i told my friends as a teen about her blog i actually told her coworker once and her coworker somehow RETAINED the url and went home and looked at her blog and she was so upset at me 😭😭 but now like she kinda doesnt give a fuck anymore bc fall out boy was her special interest for an entire decade and she’s over it. Obviously still a big big fan but not in bandom anymore. Her new special interest is a band i introduced her to when i was 13 and its kinda cringe so i dont talk about it but she also ran an archival blog for THIS band and i told my friend at a sleepover who liked this band about her blog and they fucking FOLLOWED HER and shit bricks and my mom was MORTIFIED. But anyway yeah she doesnt gaf now if i tell people she was this blog and i even posted a tiktok about it once and people started doing detective work that would make her autistic self so proud…. Bc thats what she was good at! sleuthing stalking detective work on the band. Pete wentz privately answered several of her asks on tumblr i’ll see if she can send me the asks and their responses. But yeah she doesnt care anymore. her original url was scrubbed by tumblr and shes very angry about it bc it was an original bandom url for patrick stump so shes like wtf ever i dont wanna touch this im so mad. Which SAAAAME. ive done that so many times. She started permitting access to people who requested it for one of her photo archive website thingies she left in her last post. But yeaaaahhh… she was patrick stump for halloween in like 2008 and she won the costume contest bc she had rhe coolest sideburns and looked so much like him. My first ever concert was a fall out boy concert in spring 2007 i was 6 turning 7 within the next few months lemme just say the music video for carpel tunnel of love played on the screen as they played the song and my brother and i was so traumatized. But then immediately they played this aint a scene after that and we were like HELL YEAAAAAAAAA. And my brother (5 at the time) and i knew every single song and sang along and my mom went look at everyone else no one else knows these songs. You guys are so cool. And we looked around and yeah no one was singing the songs and were sooo excited! Oh and theres that one time she recorded us singing keep it simple by cobra starship and THEY PUT IT ON THEIR MYSPACE PAGE AT THE TOP WE FLIPPED SHIT. i wish THAT video was still up. Shes also met fall out boy so many times and walked away from patrick stump while he was talking to her bc she didnt want to take up his time at a meet and greet. Omg. so many memories. I was literally raised in online bandom thats so insane. Maybe thats why im a homosexual

[trans-axolotl]

i don't know if i'm becoming the person i needed when i was younger. i feel like that's what i see people a lot of people say to explain their passions, the steps they take to change things, who they want to become. and honestly, 13/14/15/16 year old me was so fucking mad and tired of being let down and very, very resentful and bitter. i remember being so frustrated at being consistently put in places where there were no actually accessible resources, no adults to step in to help, and being frustrated at my growing understanding of how the shitty things that happened to me weren't just isolated events--they were backed up by a society + culture that enabled them, and enforced by institutions and structures that kept other options from being possible. 13 year old me needed so much more then what i could offer them as my adult self, and i think my 13 year old self would have ignored me if i tried to tell them there were people who cared out there or that harm reduction was an option.

but i think my 13 year old self would be so, so proud to see what we've turned into. to know that we are a part of trying to tear down all these fucked up systems and that although we absolutely will not be able to fix every problem as one person, that we've felt called to and accepted that we have a responsibility to try to fix what we can when we can. i think my 13 year old self would be overjoyed to know that we are a part of something where we advocate for things like peer respite, where we are gaining the skills and learning how to do effective noncarceral suicide prevention, that we've survived and part of our survival is about sharing love and rage and passion with community.

so yeah, i don't think i'm becoming the person i needed when i was younger cause i don't think one person would have been able to protect me from the violence and harm i did face, and no matter what i do i'm just one person who cannot fix everything, but I do think my 13 year old self would want to be alive if they knew what my life looks like now. and that's something really beautiful and meaningful to me, actually.

[khaleesiofalicante]

Now these are all random thoughts with no order, but I still need to get them out of my system (and my notes lol)

David's thoughts not appearing and him not having a POV makes me so fucking nervous, because the last time it happened it turned out to be the saddest shit ever 😭

WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN ARCAID ARE NOT A CANON EVENT???? AND THEY AREN'T TOGETHER IN IALS??? My mind refuses to accept that😤. Also the fact that Arthur said “We’re destined to be together, Kincaid.”, and they are the couple that is not canon is my 13th reason 🙂

The song rec in Lance's chapter being She by Dodie??? Haven't recovered yet, thanks :)

I remember Arthur saying in IALS that "You were bigger than the whole sky" was his favorite song from the midnights album and now I'm feeling Arcaid feels not in a good way😭😭

Everyone in this gen is a whore and I say good for them!! Theia literally using her travel year to go see Lance, Joan thirsting over Régine, Iris and Hermes, Arthur and Kincaid (both self explanatory), and don't get me started on Cami! I am proud of them😌

I'm still curious about what happened to David's book. I mean, I know it wasn't published, and Max was angry at Rafael about it, but what bullshit excuse did they used???

Rafael and Max's relationship 🥺🥺. Rafael being scared for Max, and Max wanting to protect his family and everything just going to shit because of the Clave... They better fix this relationship or I'm throwing hands!

You should listen to "Fuiste tú" by Ricardo Arjona and "El triste" by José José. They give me IALS vibes. Funny thing is that those two are really famous in my country, and I've heard them a thousand times, but just recently I paid attention and I am heartbroken 🥰

I have a theory Max won't become Other Max after seeing all the damage it created. Like, seeing the consequences, and telling David he can't do it but feeling bad about it. Still not sure because that whore is capable of anything

And I have ANOTHER theory that David will die soon. Like, in a battle or in between the fight with Idris and that's why Max invented time travel. Because he never got to grow old (?) with him. But maybe that would also mean Lance activating the prophecy for him... Besides, Other Max said he took 720 years to figure it out, but he didn't said what year he is from... Idk, maybe it could be because you didn't want to do math but I don't trust you anymore😑

I love Rafael, Anjali and Cami but omfg they NEED TO CHIILL!!! I feel they would judge me so hard LMAO. I am that girl who's motto is "if tomorrow isn't the due date, today isn't the do date". And I procrastinate so much but the worst part is I know I can pull it off because I have done entire projects 20 minutes before they're due and I've gotten 10s, and studying for exams with time?? Nah, I like to study with someone's study cards 10 minutes before the exam AND I also pull that off so yeah... I love Cami but she would probably dislike me 😂

Every time I remember Other Max waited 720 years to see David again, I remember this scene of IALS and feel 80% worse 🥲 “Alec hasn’t spoken to me for two days and I already feel like I’m decaying,” bapak told him. “Decaying?” Max made a face. “Like a corpse?” The man clutched his face. “13 years, Max. 13 bloody years. How on earth did you manage that?”

I would sell a kidney to know why tf Other Max does the shit he does sigh

I'm really curious about the changes from Other Max's timeline and this because of the White Warlock thing Max has going on. Like, we've cleared that the money did have an impact on it, so not only does it affect keeping the institute, I guess it would affect Lance and AJ going to different schools, maybe Arthur not meeting Harry?

Arcaid are together (briefly) in IALS but they don't end up together rip.

She by Dodie is funnily enough a song that perfectly fits Lance and Kincaid - more reasons why they are alike!!!

We'll find out about David's book soon (I think).

Thank you thank you for your song recs. I love them. I haven't been the same since you recced me Tú sí sabes quererme. It's one of my fave songs ever - and so very blackbane too.

And yes, everything is literally because I don't wanna do math. DO NOT MAKE ME.

I guess we'll find out what Other Max does and why he does it when he return to the Other Timeline during the interlude.

And yes, it does affect the schools they go to. For instance, Arthur and Harry meet in a public school instead of Silverstone. You actually get a lil context about this in the next chapter :)

[raymurata]

13, 23, 32, 51, and 59 for oak my beloved 💖

13. What are some motifs you associate with them? did you intentionally bring in those motifs, or did it happen over time?

Openness and trust, rebirth, reparenting, CHANGES, learning, forgiving. Most of them I’d figured out from the start, some I’m still figuring out.

23. In what moment did they consider themselves to be “grown up”?

When they were living alone in Rosohna a little over two years ago (a 13year-old goblin is a 21-year-old human).

32. Which of your decisions led to their voice being the way it is?

“I want to play a chirpy, ray of sunshine little goblin who's just so cute.” It was probably one of the very first decisions, actually. Even before we knew we’d be playing Netherdeep (when we were still considering Strahd! LMAO It wouldn’t have been Oak, but a perky goblin in Barovia would have been bizarre nonetheless XD). 

51. What element of their backstory are you proudest of?

TWO-IN-ONE BAYBEEH! I am so proud of all the themes I’ve managed to explore with Oak’s consecution. The first, of course, is what attracted me to making a Consecuted character in the first place -- what happens when the person is raised in a completely different environment, even photo-negative in certain ways, two ends of the same culture? If the memories only come about later, would they not be entirely different people by then? What would happen to that person, having to accept a past self that is so different? Which aspects of that person from the past would still in fact be the same; what about us is innate? It drew me in.

Some of those questions I tried to answer myself, and some are being answered during the game. I did not know how integration would come about for example, or if it would come about at all -- and last session just kickstarted that process for Oak and I both. WILD.

But yeah. I am proud of everything that came out of that consecution. Somehow I’ve managed to pack A LOT of political and psychological themes there. Another thing that I am proud of is that, at least to me, Tarlyn’s story, while sad (I think I made it clear last session that Tarlyn’s life was sad, right? lmao), is actually hopeful in its very conception since they’re Oak now. It is a big-ass metaphor for rebirth and reparenting and being proud of being your weird little self and what have you. I’ll talk more about that in the future when it’s all out in the open. :3

59. What’s an element of their philosophy that you disagree with?

Oak is a big Luxon believer, actually. Not that they wouldn’t question their belief and/or the church itself. They sure would, given the evidence. But they believe in this powerful force and they honestly, truly read it as a force of good, even if they sometimes may question the dogmas. I think the Luxon has literally no alignment, personally.

Also, Oak believes that if they make themself vulnerable to someone, and that person somehow takes advantage of that, then it’s that person who’s 100% at fault. I love that philosophy, I think it’s beautiful, but I’m the Tarlyn inside Oak screaming for them not to be such a trusting idiot. XD