Oh yeah, one more ooc thing (sorry!): while Shadow isn’t really the sort of person who’d be inclined to wish people happy birthday (unless your name is Rouge The Bat), that’s really no fun for me, and I like to send people asks wishing their muses happy birthday on the occasion. So it may seem kind of ooc but, hey, I’d rather let people know that I know and I pay attention to that!
actually now that im home let me get a whole thing off my chest. but in the read more bc this may be long
a real issue with presentation for me now is i am actively avoiding things i deem as “too feminine.” and i hear the question in my ear of “ok, well. what’s too feminine?” and the truth is?
lowkey everything.
or at least, everything i’m surrounded with due to my closeted life. like. lets be honest here, that whole closeted thing is apart of it. but also. it’s everything, but with specific, specific things. see, what made me think about this is the fact i own a simple circle skirt that i may dare say is comfy as hell. it was for a whole camp thing, and there’s backstory on why i own it, but like. it’s a comfy skirt. it’s super comfy.
only like. two weeks ago, when i was chilling around my house and needed some pants so I can have some common decency, I saw it, and i nearly put it on. just to cover up, and about halfway to picking it up my brain said. “oh lmao. not really a boy huh? gonna wear a skirt?” and my whole brain short circuited and I tore through my closet for some separate pants.
and i’ve been thinking about this “real boy” stuff a lot, bc I constantly invalidate my own self. my outfit’s are. in my mind’s eye, always too feminine.
it’s the cut of the pants, the curve of my hip. i can’t wear that sweater it’s too girly. and like.
it’s so stifling. it makes me hate myself more, and it’s just the head space im in. i want to be seen as a real boy (which like. I am! I am a Real Boy! I’m a BOY!!!!) that like. every little thing seems like its an invalidation, and like. just want to say that.
send me a … – ✖ for my muses reaction to waking up in a hospital bed and finding yours asleep in the chair beside them.
at first, it’s the headache that consumes her immediately. she blinks her eyes open and then shuts them again, the light almost violent with its harsh brightness. karena leans up on her elbows, groaning slightly at the pain and nearly collapses back into her pillows.
blearily, she looks around the room and sees him sitting beside her bed before she notices anything else. she holds her head in her hand and is instantly reminded that she must be conscious, because the throbbing in her temple would disappear otherwise. if she was alone, she would fall back asleep to find some temporary peace.
she thinks all she wants from him is answers. how did she end up here? karena has no memories of the previous day, though she’s sure she’ll remember soon enough. but, what she really wants is for him to wake up and say something, anything, preferably a bad joke to assure her that he’s only here because someone elected him to be the one who made sure she’s okay.
it’s as she’s staring at him that his eyes open, slowly at first until he notices her gaze, then he grins.
he must love the attention, even if i’m the one who’s hurt she thinks, and she definitely does not think about how terrible she must look, itchy hospital gown aside.
“morning, sunshine.”
“i sure don’t feel like it.”
and it’s true, she’s never felt more awful in her life. physically, that is. emotionally, she is…happy, to have him there. she would be happy to have anyone there, she tells herself, but really, he is the only person she would be comfortable with seeing her so vulnerable. it’s not the first time and it almost certainly won’t be the last.
he doesn’t respond and she allows the silence to hang between them for a moment before she holds out her arm to him. he’s just close enough to reach her hand, but he doesn’t take it right away. when he finally does, she smiles.
“thanks. for being here, or for staying. i don’t know how long it’s been, but…this job, this place, it’s hard. you make it easier.”
she can see the thoughts behind his eyes, all the things he would like to say if only he knew the best way how. instead, he brings her hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles. “you make it easier, too.”
so here's the first half of the fic ive been talking about. cw for discussions of death and allusions to injury, although only vaguely for now. and hospital imagery
this story kinda means a lot to me so if yall read it thank you :] id love to hear any thoughts or reactions or anything, even if it's just AHHHHHH /lh
also you'll see n using she/he/they/zor here, even though ive only been using she/he/they for n. i plan to add the zor pronoun to nhp at some point in the future 👍
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You never thought yourself capable of knowing what being "beside yourself with grief" felt like. Yes, there were times as a child where you had seen death before, and the world seemed fit to swallow you whole then and there, but it's been years since then. As you've grown, those feelings seemed smaller and smaller. The emotions that tore you up from inside out seem to be more of a footnote than anything at this point.
"Go home, N." Alder's voice was small and defeated. It wasn't as much of a demand as it was a plea, which was obvious the moment he smiled solemnly at the woman. "You look like you need some rest.. The kids need someone to watch them, too. Don't worry, we'll be okay." He'd been holding Drayden's limp hand for what seemed like hours, only letting go just this once to reach for N. He pulled them into a hug.
"The kids" were well past the age of needing to be watched- Benga in his 20s, Iris her late teens- but N didn't have it in her to argue. He was well aware of the fact that it was only a ploy to make them more likely to go home and rest. Deep purple rings circled underneath zors eyes, zors hair greasy and barely combed. Alder looked just as bad, if not worse. She hugged her dad back, burying her face against his shoulder for a moment. Zor had never been good with words. "... Okay." They murmured after a second. "If you're sure." She couldn't fight him on this. Alder would scarcely ever budge on something like N's well-being, and on the flip side, N didn't have it in herself to deny Alder the simple grace of following his request. He was already under too much stress.
She was all but staring at Drayden through her peripherals as she took her leave from the hospital room, willing him to wake up before she left. His face stayed still while he lay in bed, sunken, pallid. The lines creasing his forehead and under his eyes seemed much deeper than they ever had been, carving his face into something N hardly recognized. He looked like a sickly wax sculpture of what was usually an impossibly larger-than-life man, close in appearance, but off. Inaccurate. Not real. She wished it weren't real.
All that to say, Drayden looked frail. Zor had never seen him look frail before.
The image of Drayden, diminished, lying in bed with his disheveled husband dutifully remaining at his side clung to the inside of her mind for the entire silent walk home. Though usually grateful for their own incredible memory, they find themself thinking they would be glad to let this image go, never to be looked upon again. The future would hold much better memories to embrace, zor thought, any of which would surely be a better way to remember Drayden. As zor trekked home, zors eyes remained glued to the pavement, counting each break in the sidewalk as a means of keeping encroaching thoughts at bay. To how much success, she wasnt sure; she swore she reached 20 several times over again, the background noise of the downwards spiral of her thoughts growing louder and louder, clamoring for her attention.
She continued to count as much as she could. Once concrete sidewalks trailed off into dirt roads and worn down grass, she found herself counting rocks and sticks in place of sidewalk breaks. All human bustle and pokemon ambiance seemed to fade away, leaving N deaf to everything except his own internal monolog going as fast as it could. Counting, then Drayden, then counting, Alder, Benga, counting, Iris, counting, counting, counting, Drayden, Drayden, Drayden. Drayden.
Maybe there won't be future memories of him. Maybe that was the last mental picture you'll ever have of him.
She didn't feel way the skin of her lip snapped between her teeth, she only tasted the metallic tang that followed shortly after. When they finally looked up from the dirt path in order to swipe the blood away from their mouth, they found themself standing before their house at last. It looked like someone was home.
It was quiet when N stepped inside, but as soon as the door shut behind her with an audible rattle, she heard someone jump up from somewhere within the house and gun it for her. Iris skidded to a halt in front of N, almost out of breath as she croaked, "Any news?"
Her face fell the moment N shook his head. She worried her chapped lip between her teeth. "... okay." She sighed. "Benga went out to see Latias. It's just me here." The way she shifted from foot to foot, glancing back into the empty home, N knew she didn't like that fact much at all.
"I'll be here for the night. Don't worry." She reached out and placed a hand on Iris's shoulder, walking her further into the house. "Have you eaten?"
"No," Iris practically latched onto her side while they walked. "And I'm not hungry either."
"Could I make us something to eat anyways?" N was far from hungry as well, but he needed her to eat. He knew, amidst all their worry, none of them had really found the time for food.
Iris hesitated to answer. "..mmff." She huffed and puffed a bit, not wanting to eat, but not wanting to disappoint them. "Okayyy."
They passed through the hallways, over well-worn wood floors and walls spanning with photographs. It started with photos from Alder and Drayden's respective childhoods- separate at first, focusing on their parents and siblings, various milestones, Alder having his own child at one point. It wouldn't be until the pair were about middle-aged until the photos joined together, and while Drayden's own photos were initially scarce, he began appearing more and more frequently. A photo of a baby Benga swaddled in Alder's arms marked the vanishing of Alder's son from all photos shortly after. Placed lovingly next to Benga within an emerald frame was an image of Iris standing at Drayden's side, tiny by comparison, but unwilling to let herself be perceived as such. It seemed to be a candid photo where she was looking directly up at him, her hands on her hips and her stance broad, like she was challenging him. Drayden looked fondly amused.
N watched as with each photo, the kids grew older and older, from single digits all the way to their teenage years. It wouldn't be until near the very end of the hall before N herself would appear.
One photo in particular, dressed up in a simple wood frame, featured N, Iris, Alder, and Benga all sitting by a hearth sharing a meal. Benga and Iris push at each other playfully, squabbling about something long forgotten. N sits a bit hunched, her shoulders tense with uncertainty for her new situation, but the look on her place is something amused and tentatively affectionate. Alder laughs over the antics of his grandchildren, Drayden beside him, rolling his eyes. The image had to be close to 5 years old.
N and Iris stepped into the kitchen together. Last N had seen of it, it was wrecked, frozen in time as Alder had dropped everything preparing a meal to rush out of the house. Iris must have cleaned it up in the meantime.
