If that trans girl gets super weirdly apologetic, like is borderline apologizing for breathing or is apologizing for things that are basically nothing/happened forever ago, whatever you do, do not leave her alone. Chances are it's one of two things, and neither of them are good; she's either bordering on a breakdown and thinks basically everything she does is wrong, or is past that point and desperately wants to make sure no one's angry at her before she hurts herself/takes her own life. You might think it's weird, you might get tired of it and want to push her away, but for the love of god do not do that. Her apologizing every 0.5 seconds is because she's been taught not to value her own emotions, but they're overpowering her and she doesn't know what to do other than apologize like her life depends on it. Her life might not depend on it, but it very well could depend on how you respond to her heart's most desperate cries for help
a gentle, sweet "are you apologizing for the sun shining? :)" is one of my favorite ways to respond to other trans women who apologize for existing, for taking up space, for having needs, for wanting to be known and loved. you have to let her know she matters to you, that her presence is like the sunshine
when I treat trans women this way, I notice they apologize less over time and get more comfortable voicing their needs to me without shrinking themselves
Also, this doesn’t apply to only trans women, I’ve seen this with people with autism and depression especially, it’s just that those are more common I’ve noticed with trans women than most
Are you devouringcest and if so what happened to your account??
this ask made me giggle anon ngl
unfortunately, no, i am not that onyx. onyx from devouringcest is a different person, and their account got deleted as far as i know. i do wish i were a writer on their level, i loved their posts😔
have a wonderful day and may we find onyx on a new account soon🙏
Challenge: @taylorswiftmicrofic on Tumblr
Prompt: june - day five (divide)
Word Count: 1494
Cross-posted on: ao3
‘There is one last reason,’ Regulus Black told her, his hands still folded upon the table in front of him, ‘Why I believe matrimony between you and I would be beneficial.’
The two of them were sitting in a Diagon Alley eatery that Lily had never been in before. Their seats had been reserved and positioned far from the windows in a small, secluded corner that the silvery, early-morning sun had yet to illuminate. In fact, the day was so late in rising that Black’s fingers and face were still softly lit by the flickering light of a candle which sat between them. Their food hadn’t yet arrived.
She took another sip of her butterbeer.
She didn’t quite know what to make of his proposition. Her, married again, after her first marriage had ended in such a spectacularly deprived fashion, and to a man like Regulus Black? All that he had told her and all that had transpired in the last twenty minutes had swelled the tide of questions and confusion in her mind – more than enough to make it drown in its own contemplation.
‘Is it that you’re attracted to me?’ she asked, falling back on her old, schoolgirl charm, tempered and turned ironic by the wound of her more recent past, ‘That you’ve always wanted to be with a woman of my standing? Or that you’ve secretly been in love with me since we were both at Hogwarts, and this is the first time you’ve plucked up the courage to admit it?’
Black cracked something like a smile.
‘Maybe there are several reasons,’ he added, and she wasn’t sure if he was trying to make a joke or not. She couldn’t quite tell which one of her teasing suggestions had actually resonated with him, but the thought that he might have watched her when they were both young, watched her and found himself drawn to her and maybe even loved her, made her feel quite odd and embarrassed. She had barely even realised that he existed.
He continued, raising a finger in a small, muted gesture:
‘But the one I want to present to you last is this: even though a Muggle-born woman you may be, you still have the potential to negotiate the divide which has arisen within my family. This, I believe.’
Lily brushed back a strand of hair which hadn’t fallen out of place. She didn’t consider herself too old to be surprised any more – she was, after all, only twenty-four years of age – but she did view herself as more mature, more accustomed, and more practised with learning something unexpected about a man she thought she knew. The big difference, she supposed, was that she didn’t actually know Black very well.
That, and he wasn’t filling her with disappointment yet.
‘That’s quite the compliment, Mr. Black,’ she told him, her hands still idle, and fixed him with a polite and genuinely curious smile, ‘Especially considering your family’s reputation when it comes to those of my genealogy. With that in mind, may I ask why you believe this?’
There was an emergent light in his eyes, one which seemed to shine brighter than their flickering candle flame and the morning’s lazy sun both, which told her that he had very much been hoping that she would ask this question.
‘The reasons are multitude,’ he breathed, voice heavy with restrained excitement, ‘There is the very primary and basic fact that you are a very charming women – or so your reputation, and Professor Horace Slughorn’s praises, claims – and that if any soul of Muggle blood can endear herself to my mother, that it will be one possessing virtue not dissimilar to your own.’
‘You spoke earlier,’ Lily added, carefully easing her interruption in-between his words, ‘That, if I accepted your proposal, our marriage would need to produce children. Your mother, would she be happy about having a grandchild of hers be Half-blood?’
Black looked far from as perturbed as she felt.
‘My mother would rather I produce offspring than not,’ he explained, ‘And the family is in a rather interesting position right now that the both of us would do well to take advantage of, assuming you agree to our union.’
Slowly, she nodded, and said nothing.
‘Here is the situation: my mother and my uncle, now her only remaining brother, have had quite the rivalry since they were children.’ – At this, Lily found her nod become more understanding – ‘For many years now, this divide has manifested in the matter of inheritance. You see, as my grandfather’s first-born, mother believed she was always destined to receive the greater portion of her father’s legacy upon his death, and yet, as a woman, the decree of own traditions makes that impossible; it is the eldest son who always inherits. This is why mother chose to marry her own cousin: as a man, he was first in the line of succession, and, as a direct descendant, the reward that would be passed down through him would be far more value than whatever her own parents could offer her.’
He paused to take a sip of his own drink.
‘Because of this, how she now rules as master of our ancestral home despite her womanhood, neither of my uncle were particularly pleased with her. To add insult to injury, when Uncle Alphard passed, Uncle Cygnus did not receive the full inheritance he had expected to, as – and you may have heard this part from your former husband’s old friend – he donated a not insignificant part of his wealth to my brother. And so, mother’s lineage acquired more money. The animosity between them has not healed and I can assure you that it is mutual, and yet…’
Black’s voice trailed off. Something seemed to have slipped into his mind.
‘And yet,’ he cautiously phrased, ‘Uncle Cygnus still remains third in line to our home. You might say that he is my heir in the same way that… well, that I am my brother’s heir. Only the birth of a child, be they boy or girl – although, knowing how the inheritance of our family functions, you will not be surprised to hear that mother would prefer that, if our children be Half-bloods, that they be daughters as well – would be able to supersede Uncle Cygnus’ claim and secure the future of my mother’s bloodline, independent of her brothers. Does this make sense to you, Miss Evans? That my mother is in dire need of grandchildren, and that she will be willing to overlook a Muggle-born progenitor if it suits her purposes?’
Lily reached out to cup her glass, but didn’t raise it to her lips. She hadn’t missed his implications of the kind of snake den she would be wandering into if she told him “Yes.”
And yet…
He believed in her, didn’t he? Black had all but told her directly that this was the kind of trial he saw her easily overcoming. It felt good to have so much faith put in her, after she had lost so much, and by a man no less.
It felt good, too, to be desired.
She didn’t want him, not really, not yet. But, something deep within her tingled at the knowledge that a man would be so interested in her still. She wanted him to want her. Him wanting her was tantalising, was delicious. She could at least play the part of wanting him if he wanted her. And then, who could guess? He was quite the handsome gentleman, too…
‘I understand,’ she told him, and her voice carried the tiniest hint of a purr, ‘It can be so difficult when people in the same family don’t really get along anymore. But…’ She paused, and she could tell that Black was watching her face very intently. ‘But, what about Harry? What about my son?’
‘He would be as welcome as you are,’ he nonchalantly informed her, ‘As long as you were by my side. He could live with you or visit us as much as you and he want, assuming that your former husband was amicable. There shouldn’t be much animosity between him and a potential son of ours either, since both would be set to inherit different legacies from different fathers – it would not be the same arena for competition as it was for mother and her brothers.’
He stopped and his touched a chain around his neck, one which disappeared beneath his robes and left her unable to see what adorned the end.
‘Will you think about what I’ve said?’ he asked. Lily’s eyes were drawn from his hands to his face. Black’s eyes seemed to at once be keen and clouded. Beyond that, she could not even guess at what he was thinking…
Their food still hadn’t arrived, but the hunger within her belly wasn’t particularly gnawing and she fond that she didn’t mind as much anymore.
Once when I was in undergrad, someone described something as “problematic” in class and our professor was like, “That’s cool, but ‘problematic’ doesn’t really mean anything. It means that the thing you’re describing has a problem, and in and of itself that’s not bad. Art, especially, should always have problems, or else it’s not interesting and not art, either. It sounds like you’re trying to say that this is bad, but you don’t want to say ‘bad.’ Is that right?”
So from then on whenever one of us called something problematic, he would make us talk it out until we could name the “bad” thing we were hinting at. In this particular class, 7/10 it was some type of oppression, and the remainder was like, “I’m uncomfortable because this is very new/confusing/pushing boundaries that made me feel safe.”
Once we stopped calling things “problematic” and stopping at that, class got way more interesting and... we all had to say, like, “that’s racist” or “that’s misogynistic” or “ew capitalism gross” out loud, which a lot of us had never done in a classroom before. Or we had to be like, “Uhhh... I’m not sure what’s so bad?” and confront our own beliefs and that was maybe even more useful.
Anyway. Whenever I see the word problematic, I can’t help but think of this professor being like, “Good starting point, now let’s get specific.” I think when we have to commit to saying “that’s ___” it requires a lot more careful thought about the truth and impact and complexities of whatever we’re claiming. Sometimes there really is some bullshit afoot, and also sometimes it’s art, and it should be full of problems, because that’s what art is.
yeah yeah rainbow capitalism is bad and whatever but like. when I was a child, being pro gay was not the popular or lucrative choice. I'm happy that times have changed.
I miss rainbow capitalism. I do. I miss when it felt like public opinion was still pro gay. I understand it was always an empty gesture, but it mattered in a sense of knowing how socially acceptable being queer is. If that makes sense.
Don't think it was an accident that we were encouraged to hate on rainbow capitalism. This is where that was always trying to get us: back to unacceptability.
if you like my posts, my art, or the music i make over at @cornsnakemusic please consider donating (or even commissioning your own music or art) over on ko-fi, it would really mean a lot
