Chapter 1: If You Were Smarter This Story Would've Been A One-Shot
Summary:
For all the books he had, Raszul Morningstar was awful at self reflection.
Notes:
(cw: unintentionally transphobic remarks)
now that I'm not awake at like 3 AM I found the button to let me do this.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Your name is Raszul Morningstar. You are 10 years old. You live with your family in the northeast section of Newgrounds City, which consists of Sarvin and Ruvina Morningstar (your father and mother respectively) and Selene Morningstar (your elder sister by about 2 years).
The details of your school life are not important, but you take it very seriously. Selene may be content to wing her way through middle school as long as she doesn't fail, but you’re not like that. You love to read and study anything you could get your hands on, it’s why your room is stocked full of books, and it’s also why you are consistently at the top of your class. It’s a major point of pride for you.
That being said, you don’t have any friends at the top of your own little world. But that’s fine, because Selene has her very own friend group. Bianca and Gabriel weren’t the brightest 13 year olds, and you’re not sure they did anything meaningful on the occasions they babysit you, but you enjoyed their company well enough and you loved the video games they showed you.
You’ve been set up to enjoy a nice and quiet life for a long, long time. It’s good, you think, to have such immovable constants in your life.
—
So. Slight addendum.
Your friends didn’t like the names Bianca or Gabriel. Not anymore.
You know this because the next time you saw them, they introduced themselves as Barry and Gabi respectively. Barry’s previously long hair had a shorter, more boyish cut to it, and Gabi, whose hair can’t grow nearly that fast, shows off painted nails that make some kind of pattern you can’t recognize.
“What’s up with the new names and looks?” Selene was the first to ask.
“Well…” Gabi would start, seemingly unsure on how to go about answering the question. “What do you know about the word ‘transgender’?”
Your interest is piqued, because you’ve never heard such a term before. You hum a little as you take out one of your many notebooks, readying a pencil to write down questions and answers you’ll use to further your research.
“What’s that mean?” It wasn’t you who asked that, but Selene. You were a little miffed, because you wanted to be the one to ask; you were the one with the pencil and paper, ready to learn!
“Okay, okay, so…”
After a solid 20 seconds that consisted mainly of hands drumming on any surface it could reach, Gabi launched into one hell of a description of the topic, about how Barry wanted to be a boy and how… she wanted to be a girl. So that’s what it meant… It's a little tough for you to conceptualize her as a girl, but she’s taking steps towards making it easier.
So being transgender meant you would feel like you want to be a different gender than you were born as. Presumably, that would mean dressing differently and speaking differently to present as that gender, if Gabi’s rapidly accelerating lecture is to be believed. Most people wouldn’t be able to keep up with her speed, but you’re not most people.
“-and Barry’s gonna get injections and Daddy and Mommy are gonna get me something that’s not injections, I dunno the specifics but it’s supposed to make us grow up like the genders we want!”
“Holy shit, you still call your parents Daddy and Mommy? That’s crin—” You don’t let Selene finish her insult, elbowing her side and causing her to yelp out at you. You sigh at her continued antics, but Barry just makes a face at her on Gabi’s behalf.
“You quit making fun of hhhhher,” you speak up, although you linger on that pronoun for a little too long. Such a drastic change will take some getting used to, but it’s not something you can’t overcome. “As for me, I’ve got more than enough information to start my research and practice calling the two of you your preferred names and pronouns.”
“You’re not gonna stay, Ras?” Barry asks. He doesn’t really talk much, kind of like you, and for pretty much the same reasons. Namely, talking to other people is boring, and though friends can have some talking as a treat, it’s no guarantee you’ll talk to them a lot all the time.
“Not this time. I’d love to catch up next time, but I don’t want to upset you accidentally while we’re here. I have to be the best friend I can be, after all.”
“Wow Ras, you have like no chill,” Selene quips at you, but you’ve already packed your notebook and pencil, ready to make a trip to the library to conduct your research. Its quiet nature is heaven to you.
“Come on, Sel, you know I can’t slack on anything. Sorry for leaving so early, but I’ll be there next time.” You’re already walking away in the direction of the library, but you turn around to wave goodbye to your friends. They all do the same, but Gabi waves and calls out to you the loudest.
“Bye Ras! Good luck with your research and all that!”
You can’t help but smile a little at that. With all these resources at your fingertips, you’ll be the best possible friend to them, and you might even be able to help them with how much Barry and Gabi seemed to be winging everything.
No matter the subject matter, you’ll give anything your all.
—
“So I’ve been thinking.”
Your name is Raszul Morningstar. You are 12 years old. That would make Selene 14 years old, and you are home alone with her. You would joke about her not thinking often, but you’re truly curious about those thoughts.
“What is it, Sel?”
“Uh…” she begins, lying down on the couch. She likes her rose colors and whatnot, her sweater contrasting with her black skirt very well. It’s mesmerizing the way she dresses, unlike you and your muted grays, but you’re fine with that.
“What if I were a guy? That’d be cool, I think,” she muses, as if not expecting you to respond. But you’re already ruminating on it, formulating the perfect response just for her.
“Oh, so you’d cut your hair like Barry? Maybe get hormones, voice training… should I start calling you brother?” You thought these were reasonable questions to ask, and you still think they are. But your… sibling, Sel, seems to think differently.
“S-Slow down! I… eeehhh… brother sounds nice. But I kinda like my hair the way it is,” he(?) answers, trying to process the questions you bombarded him with. But the answers he gave confuse you; they don’t mesh with the research you’ve done.
“Really? Isn’t your hair quite feminine?” You press on with new questions, wanting to get to the bottom of this contradiction. Your brother is a little incensed, but such is the result of your studious nature.
“Guys can have long hair, can’t they? And even if it was feminine,” he continues, putting his hands behind his head, “so what? I don’t hate feminine things, and I don’t think I hate being a girl. I just think being a guy would be better.”
“Why bother, then? Barry hated being a girl, so I understand why he did it, but if you don’t hate it, isn’t it better to be a girl?” You were expecting some kind of witty response from Sel, he always had one. Instead, you seem to have drawn out genuine ire from him, and his frustrated sigh causes you to freeze in place.
“Actually shut the fuck up, Raszul. I’ll do whatever the hell I want, and I don’t need you undermining everything I try to do.”
You feel like he had more to say, and he looked like he was about to do just that. But instead of doing that or waiting for a response from you, he simply got up and left for his room, not acknowledging you at all.
The feeling of failure begins to consume you, like a darkness swallowing the light, but you grit your teeth and press on, going to your own room. You ignore the crushing weight of your failure, seeing as how it would only get in the way of your studies.
You will not fail again.
—
“So I’ve been thinking.”
Your name is Raszul Morningstar. You are 13 years old. That would make Sel 15 years old, and you are having dinner with the family. Sel has his elbows on the table, tenting his fingers and staring down at his food, not making eye contact with anyone in particular.
“What is it, Selene?” Your father was the first to ask. The soft pinks of his hair get your attention when he speaks, and your eyes dart back and forth between him and Sel.
“You know, uh…” Sel hisses a bit, trying to get the words to form in his mouth. You have never seen him think this hard in his life before, which is astounding given last year’s thinking. Thinking which you’ve admittedly shut down, but you know better now (or at least you think so). “You know the thing that Barry and Gabi… are? More about Barry, but—”
“Musicians?” Your father pipes up, tilting his head and looking at Sel with a confused expression on his face. Before Sel could correct him, your mother interjects with her own theory.
“Short?” She says it in such a sincere but deadpan way, and you nearly explode trying not to laugh. You could probably kill someone if you screamed hard enough, but then again so could she. Sel looks like he’s about to laugh too, but tries to compose himself.
“No, no, like… the uh…”
“You mean transgender?” You put forth an educated guess that’s almost certainly what he’s trying to convey. He turns to you as if you personally slaughtered all his animals and burnt down his house, but he’s also trying his damndest to hold back a smile and all that achieves is a comically warped face as he pokes you in the cheek with his finger.
“Shut up I’m getting there. Nerd,” he punctuates the last word not with his actual other hand and its finger, but by creating a second right arm through magic to poke you with another right finger. You grumble in indignation as he turns to your parents and maintains his poking on your face, and your father tries to hide his laughter behind his own hand.
“So I might be that. You know, what Ras said,” he explains succinctly while refusing to use the term himself, instead opting to piggyback off your interjection. He doesn’t accept your help very often, so this felt good all things considered.
“Oh,” your father responded, after about 5 seconds, “neat!”
You’re not entirely sure what sort of response you were expecting from your parents, but the silence hangs for like a second before both Sel and your father burst out into unrestrained laughter. You don’t really know how to react, and neither does your mom, but she eventually does the thing where she puts her hand over her mouth because it hurts for her to smile and she wanted to convey she was happy in some way.
You’re happy too, you think. You’ve kept that secret for the better part of a year now, initial fuckup aside, and it’s nice to see that he’s accepted by the rest of your family too. Yeah, you can’t not be happy; he’s your brother and you love him.
But there’s something you can’t put your finger on. There’s something other than happiness going on, and you can’t name it other than being something not entirely positive. It was something about his declaration last year that he didn’t necessarily mind femininity, and it’s been stuck on your brain ever since.
Was it the ease that he declared it? Were you hoping for something different?
It’s too much to think about right now. You have all the time in the world to do more research later.
(Your brother settles on the name Selever much quicker than you ever got back into your research.)
—
Your name is Raszul Morningstar. You are almost 15 years old. That would make Selever (almost) 17 years old, and you’re heading to the same school together now.
If you were smarter, you could’ve seen the writing on the wall in the past 3 or so years. You would have everything figured out far before the present, and you would be well and truly happy.
If you were better, you wouldn’t have shoved Selever into the closet with your words all those years ago. You’re lucky he had the mental fortitude to push back against them, because you certainly don’t share it. It’s definitely paid off for him, given how happy and excited he seems to be every single day.
If you were stronger, you would’ve been able to focus more on your research on transgender topics. But some unknown fear was strangling you, keeping you from committing to something you should very much enjoy doing. Maybe you didn’t want to give off the wrong impression, or maybe you’re… scared of what further research would mean for you.
A lot of what’s to come could’ve been avoided if you had the foresight to simply be superior to your past self. But it’s too late for that now.
Sometimes the detour is the shortest path, as you’ll come to see.
Notes:
This is not going to be a short one.
Chapter 2: The World Crashed Into You And You Came Out Fine
Summary:
Raszul Morningstar makes a new friend, and she inspires him.
Notes:
(cw: internalized transphobia and depression)
I can no longer guarantee a schedule for any of my works. I have lost control of my life.
Chapter Text
Your name is Raszul Morningstar. You are not quite 15 years old, but you’re getting there. More specifically, this is the first day of school, and you’re not late. This is because Newgrounds High actually puts some thought into the mental wellbeing of its students, and starts at a reasonable time instead of forcing everyone awake before the sun even rises.
Your BROTHER does not give a fuck about any of that. Despite his attitude towards school, he still gets up like an hour before you and goes about a whole routine to show himself off, even on days where he’s supposedly “super fucking exhausted”. It actually angers you a little for him to be this energetic and happy, but you would never say that to his face.
“Raaasss. Raszulie Julie my brother-man look at me.”
Not for that reason, anyway.
He leans in front of your face a bit too much for your liking, and you grumble and push him away with your whole hand. He doesn’t resist your push, but laughs a little as you do just that.
“Never call me that again. You look the same as always,” you don’t technically lie, but putting up with this routine for about a hundred weeks has worn through your patience for him and his antics. He doesn’t show remorse or sadness for it either, instead laughing as you get up to get ready to walk to school.
“That just means I gotta… hmm, wait, that almost sounds like my boyfriend’s name, I can’t use that. Why did you let me say that kind of shit, Ras?”
“...It’s your boyfriend, Sel!” You scowl at him after a moment of stunned silence, perhaps with a bit more sincerity in your annoyance than you’d normally let seep into your voice. But he doesn’t seem to notice, and just continues to laugh as he conjures up a glowing pink portal to his side.
“Aaaah, you right, you right, I’ll just be picking him up now. Later, nerd,” he sticks his tongue out at you before hopping on through, the shimmering magic disappearing as soon as he leaves.
Fine, whatever. It’s going to be more and more of those same dreary days anyway, so you might as well press on.
—
You never learned portal magic from your father. It’s why you’re walking to school on such a cold and dreary day.
Why didn’t you learn it? You’re not sure. You’re not exactly itching to go anywhere, and all this walking is good for you anyway. But above all else, you haven’t been feeling your best lately, and you’d like to put your best foot forward in academics instead of focusing on less important endeavors.
(That’s a lie and you know it. If you had portal magic, you’d just teleport everywhere and never have the energy for anything ever again, trudging through life like some kind of zombie.)
You’re not even sure if the walks are helping. Everything feels so lifeless and gray, and the overcast skies don’t help you one bit. You don’t even feel awake, but that’s fine. You know your way to school, so you could probably get there in your sleep. The city is harsh and angular enough that you can figure out where to turn easily, and with motions you’ve been practicing in the summer, you—
“SHIT!”
You get bowled over by something or someone, definitely something person shaped and capable of knocking you to the ground. You’re not exactly injured, but you’re pretty stunned, all things considered, and you’re not strong enough to lift the weight pinning you to the ground.
“Dammit, my toast… OH MY GOD! I am so sorry, I didn’t see you there!” Luckily, the person who collided with you was quick to get off of you, so your presence as an obstacle didn’t knock them out. Groaning a bit, you push yourself off the sidewalk you’d been acquainted with for all of 10 seconds, turning to look at…
Oh. Oh wow. You’ve bumped into such a pretty lady! You’re left staring at the girl who collided with you, with her short white hair that complements her dark complexion, those stunning green and blue eyes that seemed to shine through her purple-framed glasses and against her dark, yet vibrant clothes… the black jacket and purple shirt work so well together!
“A-Are you alright? I didn’t hurt you too bad, did I?”
Oh right, you’re on the ground, dressed in ill-fitting but mostly comfortable clothes. It’s almost comical how drab your outfit is, and even your pale pink face and singular black horn don’t do much to offset how painfully uninteresting you are.
“H-Huh? Oh, sorry, I’m fine,” you quickly get out as you push yourself up and dust yourself off. You notice that her(?) voice sounds rather masculine, but you’re not going to assume. You’ve practiced too much with Gabi to do such a thing, even if you put that area of research on hiatus for the time being.
“That’s good, that’s good… aw fuck, I dunno if I can stay for long though, I really don’t wanna be late for school!”
“Hey, wait!” You call out to her, briskly walking after her to try and catch up with her. “Are you also going to Newgrounds High?”
“Oh, yeah I am! Oh shit, did I make us both late?” Despite her question implying a mounting urgency, she slows down a little so she could talk to you. Which is good, because your weak, underutilized legs aren’t the best at chasing people.
“No, actually,” you try to catch your breath before keeping up the brisk walking, “it starts way later than most other schools. We should be on time if we just keep walking.”
“Oh. Oh wait, right, I forgot about that! Damn, middle school was too ingrained in me…” she slows down (finally) and lets you catch up with her. You don’t know if you’re making a new friend for once, but you’re going to allow yourself to be optimistic about it.
“Well, I guess if we’re both going there… I’m Emma! What’s your name?” Well, she certainly seems quite sociable, and her name does seem quite feminine. You could probably put two and two together, but you’re not sure if you should assume given what happened with Sel years ago.
“O-Oh, I’m Raszul,” your voice lowers to a near whisper as you reach your name. “It’s freshman year for me. What about you?”
“Oh, same here! God, I’m actually kinda glad I bumped into you, I like your hair!” She beams at you, but you respond to her compliment with an incredulous look on your face. Her hair is well-groomed, but yours is kind of a rat’s nest; maybe you need to pay more attention to that kind of stuff.
“Um, yeah, I guess I feel the same way. Does this make us friends?” You cautiously ask her, waiting for her response. You’re kind of hoping it makes you friends, because this would be the first friend you have within your age range.
“That'd be pretty great! Oh, and before I forget,” she slows down a bit, but doesn’t stop walking, “I’m a girl! Even if I don’t sound much like one, haha…”
“You’re definitely more than pretty enough to be one!” You blurt out just about everything in your head despite yourself, and upon further thought you’re not sure if that was the best thing to say, but thankfully she takes the sudden compliment and laughs a little.
“Aww, that’s really sweet of you! I did try to look nice, but then I thought I was late, and… yeah, here we are!” She cheers a little about the encounter you both shared, but it got you self conscious about yourself again. Then again, it’s a very familiar feeling, so you shove it back down with ease.
You don’t have to ruminate on it for too long though, because the two of you have finally reached the school gates. It also appears that you’ve reached them at the same time as Selever and Julius, and it’s pretty hard to miss him given he’s literally over 7 feet tall.
“Heyyy, Ras! Made a new friend, have we?” He gives you a smile you’re not entirely sure how to read, and you just sort of freeze up. It’s not exactly the best impression you could give Emma, since this is quite literally your brother, but friends your age are new and weird still.
“Mmm… yeah? I hope?” Your eyes dart back and forth between Selever and Emma, and you’re not going to dignify Julius with a look. He always looks like he’s about to burst out into laughter, and you hate it.
You also hate how Sel is bending down and looming over you to get a closer look at the both of you.
“...oh shit, is this your girlfrie—”
“Fuck off,” you sharply interrupt him, pushing him in the stomach to signal your distaste for him at the current moment. He stumbles a bit, but he’s still smiling.
“Haha, he got the girl part down! But we also just met, so we’re just friends for now,” Emma explains in your stead, which you’re eternally grateful for. Beyond being pretty, she’s also super confident, or at least less of a wreck than you. It kind of makes your heart flutter a little, and combined with the fact she said “just friends for now”...
Nope. Nope, you’re pushing that one down too. A friend your age is already rare and you’re not going to ruin it with your weird feelings and opinions. You want to believe you and Sel have mostly patched up your issues from years ago, but you’re pretty sure he still resents you deep down.
(It’s understandable behavior, honestly, given what you said back then.)
You shake yourself out of those uncomfortable thoughts. You have school to get through, and you turn to Emma, not exactly smiling but not exactly frowning either. Smiling is difficult, but you like her well enough.
“I’ll be heading to my classes now. You wanna meet outside the school gates afterwards?”
“Yeah, sure!” She answers you with a smile, even continuing to talk while she heads her own separate way, “maybe we can even exchange numbers and stuff!”
“Yeah,” you say to her as you get going yourself, “that sounds nice.”
It’s the first thing you look forward to in a long time.
—
School was fine. You’ve read up on basically all the material before starting the school year since you didn’t really have anything else to do, so the academic parts were easy.
Waiting for Emma just outside of school, though? That one’s new, and you can’t help but feel nervous. Maybe she’ll forget about you and you’ll be left waiting out here like an idiot. It hasn’t happened to you yet (because you haven’t actually attempted to make friends without your brother acting as a mutual friend), but you worry about things a lot.
Thankfully, it seems taking the risk paid off, and Emma runs up to you right where you asked to meet her. You smile this time, if only slightly.
“Oh, hi,” you greet her, your smile getting just that bit wider as she stops in front of you, confirming that she hadn’t forgotten about you, “I’m really glad you showed up. I’ve been thinking about you… a normal amount.”
From the way Emma giggles, you’re not entirely sure if she believes you. Making eye contact was even more difficult than usual, but she’s still smiling, so that’s good.
“Heh, I guess I did make a pretty big impact back there! I’m kinda surprised your brother thought I was—”
“Uuuugh,” you sigh, interrupting her pretty rudely, “Sel’s always like this. He’s always finding some way to tease me, and how would I get with some girl I just crashed into like 20 minutes ago anyway?”
“Haha, true, true! If it makes you feel any better, I’m only into girls, so…” she trails off for a bit, but then regains focus quickly enough that you don’t get a word in. “Actually, wait, what gender are you? I’ve just been assuming things, but I wanna know for sure.”
Huh. You never actually specified, have you? You assume that Emma assumes that you’re a boy, but you don’t know for sure. On further thought, you’re kind of… almost happy that she asked you that question.
But that’s ridiculous, right? You’re only happy about that question because it gives you a choice in what to do about your weird feelings. You might not have many friends, but you know for a fact that good friends don’t take advantage of each other.
The choice was made for you before you could process the question.
“I’m a boy,” you answer, perhaps a bit slower than you’d like, “and I’m familiar with the concept of being transgender. But I’m not that; I don’t hate my body anyway.”
“I see, I see,” Emma replies, looking a bit more thoughtful than you’d like her to look. “But there’s more to being trans than just hating your body! Some people don’t do that, but there’s… crap, I remember there being two more types of gender dysphoria, but I don’t remember the specifics…”
“Huh,” you reply dumbly, blinking slowly as you reach for your notebook and pencil. This is all quite new, and you don’t recall Gabi mentioning such specific terms, but knowing what you know about Emma… yeah, you’d trust her on this. “I’ll look into this more tomorrow. Do you, uh, do you want to exchange numbers now?”
“Oh hell yeah,” she cheers, and the two of you exchange and test your numbers to make sure they’re the right ones. It’s pretty quick and simple, and you’re both left feeling pretty happy when the two of you have to take your leave.
But perhaps more importantly, your new friend has rekindled your interest in a topic you’ve been afraid to get back into for years: transgender topics. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t still a little scared, but for the sake of being a good friend, you’ll do your best to understand everything about her.
(If you were smarter…)
You’re not sure why that thought crossed your mind. That’s the whole point of your research.
—
You reach home, and you’re surprisingly tired. You’re always tired, sure, but this was something else. Being anything close to happy seems to have sapped you, which is kind of bullshit because you’d run out of energy even if you weren’t happy. At least today was better than most others, you suppose.
With no homework to worry about, you were just about ready to head into your room and nap to hopefully restore your energy. When you enter it, however, there’s something on your bed that you don’t recall owning.
Upon walking up and looking closer at the foreign object, it appears to be a plain black skirt. Picking it up and scrunching your nose at it doesn’t make it less of a skirt, and you can only come to one conclusion.
This is a prank.
You march to Selever’s room and knock on his door, absolutely unwilling to deal with any of his bullshit. You just want to sleep. You just want the day to be over, because you want to research all those trans topics for your new friend tomorrow.
When Selever answers the door, he looks more confused than anything. You were almost certain he’d be annoyed, because that’s what you’d do (and you’d deserve as much), but he’s standing there alright.
“What is it, Ras?”
You answer him by throwing the skirt at him, which he catches with a still confused look on his face.
“You left this in my room. Stop going in there,” you answer curtly, before shutting the door on him and turning away, going back to your room. It doesn’t take long for you to flop on your bed, and sleep will overtake you shortly.
(If you were—)
You don’t care. You don’t care. You don’t care. You don’t care. You are going to nap, wake up, have dinner, study a bit more, and then go to sleep for real.
You are going to be the best friend you can be for Emma, because you are beyond petty distractions.
You are consumed by sleep, as is that voice in your head.
Chapter 3: You Took An Inch And You Unraveled A Whole Mile
Summary:
Raszul Morningstar makes a trip to the library, but it wasn't as fun as he'd hoped.
Notes:
(cw: internalized transphobia, panic attacks)
Celeste is a pretty good game.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Your name is Raszul Morningstar. Yesterday you met a pretty girl by the name of Emma, and today you are determined to learn more about transgender topics so you can be the best friend you can be to her.
Before you can go about doing that, though, you still have to leave school. You do have some homework you need to do, but that’s the best part of the library; it’s nice and quiet and you’re free to do whatever as long as you don't disturb anyone else.
You could actually leave for the library now if you so wished, but that’s not what you want to do. You’re actually hoping to see Emma before you head off, and while you could talk to her over the phone, you find yourself… wanting more? It’s a bizarre feeling, one you never really felt with Barry or Gabi or Julius, but by this point those presences in your life are all but guaranteed. Emma is new, she’s fresh and exciting and speak of the devil there she is.
“Hey, Raszu— Raszh— Rasazy—” You watch as Emma stumbles over trying to call your name, before resorting to slapping herself in the face and staring at you with an intense concentration. “Ras. I’m really sorry, I’m usually better at talking than this!”
Ironically, her repeated stumbling over your name brought a smile to your face, and you have to stifle a laugh as you wave at her. She really makes your days that little bit brighter, and you know what? You kind of want to hang out with her over at least one of these weekends, and you’re really hoping the stars will align to give you both the energy and time to do so.
“Haha, hi Emma! If it makes you feel any better, they’re all better than what my brother called me yesterday morning,” you chuckle a little recalling it, even if it annoyed you plenty previously. “Although… How'd you manage to get ‘Rasazy’ out of that? It’s…”
You didn’t actually think about what ‘it’ is, and your voice dies in your throat as you try to think of how to continue that sentence. Not helping matters is the way Emma curiously and expectantly looks at you, eager for your answer, and it’s enough to get your face hot.
You could have gone with “It’s funny” or “It’s cute”, but instead your mouth makes strange noises which approximately sound like either of those words if you read them in a dream. Your absolutely embarrassing usage of the English language was too much for Emma to handle, and she laughs loudly in response.
“Pfffft, oh my God, Ras! Tell me what ‘fnnncuaaa’ means to you again?”
“Sh-Shut up! I meant to say that I liked it!” You look away, blushing hard, but you can see Emma trying to compose herself in the corner of your vision. You’re both being incredibly silly girls today.
Wait, no, Emma is being a silly girl. You are being… silly.
“Eheheh… well, I guess I’ll be going now! You have fun doing your library research and whatnot!” She waves goodbye and laughs a little, presumably heading back home. You couldn’t quite squeak out your own ‘goodbye’, but as you wave at her, one thought in particular occupies your mind.
You really wanna talk to her more after dinner.
—
Ah, the library. You don’t want to downplay the significance of your home, since you eat and sleep there and you do sincerely love your family, but if you had to pick a favorite place, this had to be it. The librarian there, Ms. Robinson was very familiar with you, and even if you have a computer and internet access at home, you could really get into the zone here. God, you love it here.
“Oh, Raszul! I haven’t seen you in a while, what do you plan to do today?” Ms. Robinson asked you, her voice sweet and soothing. It brings to mind a cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream, but you have other things you need to focus on right now.
“Ah, I’m looking for books about transgender topics? If you don’t have any, it’s totally fine, I’ll just use the computer to search some things up,” you answer her, even giving her a polite little bow. Selever would have insisted that you were too old to be putting up the ‘good kid schtick’, but you liked Ms. Robinson and you would very much like to not disappoint her.
“Oh, I can certainly get you books on that topic! You can go ahead and use the computer over there while I get them for you,” she offered, smiling warmly, and you nod at her as you hop onto one of the chairs to boot up the computer and really sink your teeth into your research. Clearly, that singular day of research back when Gabi explained the concept wasn’t enough; you’ll have to go a bit more in depth, maybe spread out this research over the course of a few days.
That said, you hope today will give you enough information to talk with Emma and not ruin things.
“Oh, Barry, Gabi! I was just getting some books for Raszul, he’s just over there!”
Oh, it seems your friends have made a trip to visit the library too! You didn’t think you’d be seeing them this early, they’re usually over about every two weeks now when Sel invites them over. You’ve sort of drifted apart now that you no longer ‘needed’ babysitting (or at least they no longer needed the cash), but they’re pleasant enough!
“Hey, Rassss,” Barry would wave at you as he approached, with a lazy smile as he took plenty of joy in letting his voice roll along his throat. You noticed that he’s done that quite a bit when he was hanging around with Sel, but you haven’t looked into why he did so; maybe this was a part of this “voice training” you’ve read about before.
Barry and Gabi were quick to pull up some chairs to sit next to you while Ms. Robinson got you a good selection of the books you requested. Ideally, you’d be able to learn everything else you’ll need, but you do have a main goal in mind: you want to learn more about the other forms of gender dysphoria. And indeed, after giving Ms. Robinson a quick thank you, you immediately start flipping through the books she gave you, combing through them for mentions of gender dysphoria.
“Oooh, whatcha reading up on, Ras?” Gabi asks you, and it occurs to you that you haven’t actually responded to either of them. It’s a little rude of you, but you can’t really take it back now, so you’ll just have to roll with the punches.
(Just like before.)
“Oh, hi. Sorry I haven’t talked much, I’m just doing some more in-depth gender research. Apparently there’s more to gender dysphoria than just hating your body,” you answer Gabi (and Barry, a little bit), your fingers acting as bookmarks for the table of contents as you inch your way to the desired pages.
“Oooh, neat! I didn’t even know about that stuff!” Gabi would respond, and now that you’re more focused on listening to the two of them, you can’t stop noticing how… happy she sounds. Living as her true self seems to have done wonders for her, and you wouldn’t doubt Barry feels the same way about himself.
“Really now?” You raise an eyebrow at her, although you would soon go back to having your eyes dart back and forth between the computer screen and the book you have opened up. It seems that on top of body dysphoria, there’s also social dysphoria, which is dysphoria for presenting socially as one’s birth gender, and cognitive dysphoria, which stems from one’s mind and emotions not lining up with their body. It’s a little much to wrap your head around, but you’ll find a way to manage. You always do.
“Wow…” Barry muses to nobody in particular, but you know he’s peeking over your shoulder to read the contents of the book you’re reading. “I think I actually had a whole lot of that cogni… fuck it, mind dysphoria thing this book is talking about. I sorta just lumped everything into hating my body until I had my HRT, but man, maybe I should look more into this stuff!”
“It might do you some good,” you reply, keeping your voice low so you don’t disturb anyone else in the library. Really, you could reason this as a sort of group study session, and you are learning new things together! Granted, you’re really putting out a lot of information at once to try and absorb, but you’re not one to go slow with your education.
That being said, you’re still going to take your time to read through things, and it makes this one paragraph in the book you have stand out even more. It started off by mentioning how the severity of one’s dysphoria can change from person to person, and… apparently, some trans people have never experienced it.
This is new to you. This is weird to you. Why would anyone transition if they didn’t hate their gender? There had to be some push for them to do so, right?
If you really had to, you could probably come up with one. But… no. That’s selfish and cruel, an invalid reason. You are not trans, you’ve made that clear to Emma. If you were, you would have known.
(If you were smarter, you would have known.)
…what would you have known? You know you’re a boy, and you don’t have body dysphoria. You don’t have… you don’t have social or cognitive dysphoria, do you?
(You would have known Selever made his transition without obvious dysphoria.)
Oh! Duh, that’s what the voice in your head was trying to tell you! You may be well studied, but you sure can be forgetful sometimes.
“Ras?”
You blink a bit, and you find Barry waving a hand in front of your face. You must have spaced out while thinking about that dysphoria stuff, and you try to re-focus on both your studies and conversing with your friends.
“Huh? Sorry, I just needed some time to think about things. I haven’t gone too in-depth with my research on gender dysphoria until now, so I definitely need more time to look into it. I’ve messed up with assuming stuff about Selever before, he probably told you about it, but the point is I want to make sure I don’t mess it up again for my new friend,” you explain, perhaps a bit too much. But you don’t want them to think you’re a bad person, so you have to make it clear you admit to your past mistakes.
“Tell us what?” Gabi answers, and suddenly you find your preconceived notions about your friends wrong again.
As it turns out, Selever never actually told his friends about that incident all those years ago, or maybe he did and they just forgot. Either way, there’s a possibility that you’ll have to explain what exactly you did to them, and it might be the right thing to do, but…
Your stomach seizes up. Your breath catches in your throat, and suddenly you don’t feel comfortable in your favorite place in the world. What would Barry and Gabi think, to hear that dear, sweet Raszul, whom they’ve babysat and explained their feelings when they decided their birth genders weren’t for them, made a transphobic remark towards his brother that kept him in the closet for an extra year? That dear, sweet Raszul fucked it up for one of their friends because he wasn’t smart enough to use the right words to support him?
(You need to stop referring to yourself in the third person.)
You’ve broken out into a cold sweat. You want to do more research on transgender topics, you want to be the best friend you can for Emma, for Barry and Gabi, for your brother! But you don’t want to do it with your friends, you don’t want them to see you at your worst. If you were alone, you wouldn’t have to be afraid.
You would be conducting your dysphoria research alone, and there wouldn’t be anyone peering into your subconscious to see it make up excuses for why you could be trans. But that’s just wishful thinking; in truth, you’re just a horrible and manipulative impostor who wants—
(GET OUT OF THE FUCKING LIBRARY IF IT MAKES YOU THIS MISERABLE.)
You can’t stay here anymore. You don’t make eye contact with Barry or Gabi as you quickly log off of the computer, closing your books and hunching over in what was supposed to be fake pain, although it turns into a very real stomach ache as you look for the appropriate shelves to return them to. Ms. Robinson has definitely noticed, and she rushes over with concern.
“Oh dear! Raszul, are you alright? You usually stay longer…” she spoke calmly, rubbing your back as she did her best to follow you. You like her and she likes you, but if you stayed any longer you might not be able to stay on her good side.
“I-I don’t feel well,” you mutter pathetically. You feel an overwhelming nausea, and the idea you ever had to lie about that was growing more and more laughable. If you could trick yourself into getting sick like this, what else could you do?
“Oh no… don’t worry about the books, I can keep those. Get home safe, alright?” Dear, sweet Ms. Robinson, always so helpful and kind, keeping the books that you requested. She even stopped your thought process from spiraling into something worse, even if you’re not aware of it.
You’re doubly lucky that Barry and Gabi didn’t push the topic that you foolishly boxed yourself into, instead trying to make sure you’re okay as you head out of the library. Despite your recent distance, they’ve remained such good friends to you. You’re even pretty sure Barry texted your brother, because before you knew it there was a shimmering portal right outside the library, with Selever on the other end as your house stands behind him.
You don’t deserve such wonderful friends.
(If you were smarter, you would know you absolutely do.)
—
You don’t feel that much better emotionally speaking, but your stomach and nausea had settled enough that you were able to eat dinner. So you did that, and it was alright, but ultimately forgettable.
There was all that homework you didn’t do at the library thanks to your… episode. So you did that at home. You know, like in the name.
And yet despite all of this taking place, even with your exhaustion, you can’t sleep. You have this burning need to talk to Emma, even if you failed to do the research you wanted. You just can’t get enough of her, and it might make your day end on a decent note.
(It’s hard to tell yourself everything is going to be okay when it feels like your world has ended.)
Lucky for you, then, that Emma pestered you first. Funny how she’s the one to initiate conversation when you’re the one who so desperately wants her attention.
determinedTimekeeper [DT] began pestering morningstarCrusader [MC]!
DT: I’ve been thinking about this afternoon and I can’t help but wonder.
DT: How would you even spell that funny and cute name that came from butchering your actual name?
This is probably not where you expected the conversation would go, but you’re not sure you would’ve come up with anything substantial yourself. It’s just… nice to talk to her.
MC: I never gave it much thought, honestly. I was too busy with my research on gender dysphoria for that.
DT: Oh right, you did say you were going to do that! How’d it go, by the way?
You have to pick your next words carefully. You don’t want to scare her off. You don’t want to come off as a creep. And most of all, you don’t want to reveal the severity of your past mistakes.
MC: I learned a lot today, apparently there’s social dysphoria and cognitive dysphoria in addition to body dysphoria.
MC: I also met some friends there, and we had fun catching up. But it was a little exhausting doing so much at once, so I decided to cut my research short for the day.
DT: I see, I see! It sounds like you had a pretty good time there!
You really didn’t. She doesn’t need to know that, though.
MC: Yeah, and now I can barely keep awake. I did want to talk to you before I went to sleep, though.
DT: Aww, that’s really sweet of you! Did you have anything specific on your mind?
MC: Not really? I just know that talking to you makes me really happy, and I wanna do it more.
DT: Aw jeez, you’re too kind! Between this and researching so much about trans stuff, I really appreciate all the work you’re putting in! We really need to hang out in the future.
Yes, you’d love that. You’d love that a lot.
MC: Hey, I have to put my best foot forward, don’t I? I’d rather not get sloppy and risk losing you as a friend.
DT: Haha, I doubt we’ll have to worry about that kind of stuff! But I guess we need some time before we can get sloppy with each other, so I’ll be doing my best, too!
DT: Oh, and also!
It seems that Emma has interrupted you before you can think about her poor wording and how you would never get sloppy with your friendship ever again, so you’re forced to pivot the message you contemplated typing to something else.
MC: What is it, Emma?
DT: What if we spelled that nickname ‘Rasazy’? I remember you mentioning your mom is Russian this morning, so I tried to think of something kind of like that.
Something about seeing that name written out on screen really… hits different, for lack of a better term. And you’re not usually the kind of person to run out of terms; you just don’t know if that’s a happy different, a sad different, or whatever else it could be.
MC: I actually really like that!
MC: Maybe that’ll be your new nickname for me, just a bunch of nonsense syllables in the vague shape of my name.
DT: Hell yeah. Rasazy Sassy be absolutely Classy.
Okay, that one got a laugh out of you. You don’t know how much of that actually applies to you, but Emma really just keeps bringing you joy no matter what.
Speaking of her, you finally remembered that you did have an idea of what to talk about with Emma; you wanted to ask her what it was like to figure out her gender. After all, there’s been plenty of trans people in your life, and you know that detail about all of them, so it wouldn’t hurt to ask her, right?
(You never actually asked Barry or Gabi about their experiences in more detail.)
The voice in your head is dodging the question, but it… he’s not exactly wrong. You’re very tired anyway, so it might be best to save that question for another day.
MC: That’s perfect and I love it.
MC: I’m really looking forward to talking to you more tomorrow. I actually remembered something I wanted to talk to you about, but I’m really tired and don’t want to right now.
MC: Maybe don’t say the whole phrase though, that’s even more of a mouthful than the name itself.
DT: I guess you really do like that nickname!
DT: But yeah, I getcha. Goodnight Rasazy, see you tomorrow!
And there it goes, hitting different again. You’re still not sure what kind of different, but you think it’s a good different.
(You should at least tell her the thing you want to talk about is about gender—)
MC: Goodnight, Emma.
morningstarCrusader [MC] ceased pestering determinedTimekeeper [DT]!
And then you were both out like a light.
Notes:
Yes they are using pesterchum.
Chapter 4: You Could Not Reach Heaven With An Infinite Flight Of Stairs
Summary:
Raszul explores the church, but the consequences reach deeper than he realized.
Notes:
The chapter wasn't supposed to be nearly this long but here we are.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Your name is Raszul Morningstar. Despite your usually impeccable memory, you keep forgetting to ask Emma about how she came to realize her gender. You keep promising yourself that you’ll ask her tomorrow, and those never come to pass.
(It’s as if you’re trying to shut me out.)
… Did the voice in your head refer to itself- himself in the first person? That's a little strange, but whatever. It’s not important. He’s not important.
(And what is important to you?)
Now what’s that supposed to mean? Is the voice in your head trying to get you all existential right now? Because you’re not in the mood for that—
(You need to get ready for church.)
You don’t get a chance to realize that yourself before someone snaps their fingers right in front of your face, snapping you out of your trance but dazing you all the same, making you fall over on the couch you were apparently sitting on. Who else could it be but Selever?
“Damn, dude, I know I take ages to get ready but don’t just pass out on me like that.”
You don’t have a retort for that. You just get up, blinking slowly as you check to make sure you’re ready, and yeah, you are. You’ve just had a lot to think about.
You don’t have very long to think about it before your father uses his magic to warp you all to church.
—
Church service was fine. Nothing ever changes about it, so that’s one part of your life you can always rely on.
Just about everyone has left. Your family is the only one there, mostly to clean up after Service. Selever doesn’t like it very much, but your father smiles through it all. Your mother doesn’t, but smiling is difficult for her.
(It’s difficult for you too.)
The voice in your head is no help. But you aren’t helping much either.
Honestly, your father was more than capable of cleaning up the church himself, but your mother would always insist on helping. And though your brother wouldn’t stop complaining, your father would shower him in gendered compliments for helping out, remarking on how much of a strong, reliable man he's shaping up to be, and that spurred him on to keep doing it.
You were, by comparison, weak and unmotivated. You had no desire for strength or to be a man, so you mostly sat it out, taking in the sights the church had to offer. There’s not much though, only stained glass windows depicting various biblical events. They’re certainly beautiful, but they hold no meaning to you. The Bible may hold much significance to your father, but you are not him.
Although, as you continue to look around, you can’t help but notice a door to the church that you normally would’ve looked over. It’s nothing special, it’s just a regular wooden door, but…
(There’s some kind of strange light seeping through. Simultaneously bright golden and pitch black, they’re like flames licking at you, despite the barrier in their way.)
Everyone seems to be varying levels of busy, but your mother appears to be doing the least, thanks in no small part to Selever offering to do the tasks she was doing. She’s mostly standing around listlessly until you tug on her sleeve, and she turns to look at you.
“Mama, I’m going to explore the church for a bit. Is that okay?” You ask her, but you’re most certainly hoping for a yes. That door is eating away at your curiosity, and you want to find out what’s behind it.
“Sure. Just be careful,” she replies curtly, and you give her a little nod and bow to signify your thanks. You don’t remember where you learned it from, but it makes her happy. It makes you happy.
(It doesn’t make me happy.)
And there that voice goes again, talking as if he’s someone separate from you! You’re not sure why he keeps trying to insist you’re thinking these thoughts, but maybe you just need more sleep. And to eat healthier. And… okay, you have a lot that could use fixing, but that could wait. You want to explore what’s behind that door.
(Literally everything that could ‘use fixing’, you keep putting off.)
Okay, maybe the voice in your head should stick to talking about himself. He’s literally just being mean to you outside of pointing out the strange door.
Speaking of which, as you approach the door, you can’t help but feel a little nervous. The light from within seems to get more intense as you approach it, although you’re not sure you’d describe it as ‘bright’ given its properties. Did the church have its own magic?
(Only one way to find out.)
When you open the door, you’re greeted with what you can only describe as an off sight. The room contains flights of stairs that roughly spiral in a more rectangular shape, fitting of the room itself, but its dimensions seem far bigger than what the tower of the church looked like on the outside. Light filters through the plain, undecorated windows as it would any other room, but at first glance, any magic this church might have was more subtle than you had anticipated.
And then, you looked up.
The stairs spiral so high it makes you dizzy trying to find its end, but all you could make out was a faint golden light at the top. You’ve never been inside of a church tower before, but the sheer scale of it felt deeply wrong to you. The room felt about half as wide as the church it was attached to, and yet it went up and up to such unfathomable degrees.
But it’s only when you looked down that the eldritch nature of the room hit you.
The stairs were spiraling down as well, and they seemed to go on and on with no end in sight beyond a pitch black abyss towards the bottom. You don’t even know if there is a bottom, much like how you’re not sure there’s a top of the stairway. But one looks much more appealing to you than the other, that’s for sure.
You make a mental note of where you started, shut the door, and start climbing up.
—
You don’t exercise nearly as much as you should.
You know this for a fact because 6 flights of stairs in, you’re already feeling winded. You’ve been leaning your weight against the wall when you wanted to rest, because even if the stairs had railings, you didn’t want to risk falling over them to your death.
6 flights of stairs also feels like it should bring you at least noticeably closer to the top of the tower, but when you look up, the distance feels as infinite as it did before.
(The same would apply if you looked down.)
You jerk your head back into its regular position, keeping your vision level. You’d like to not worry about vertigo, because you’d much rather see where this climb will take you. Coming back down will be much easier than climbing up, at least.
So you keep going up.
—
One thing you’re only just noticing 12 flights in is that light is shining through every window you come across, which seem to be on every wall. You had assumed that it was merely the morning sun, but with the way the room is structured (and how rooms work in general), that appears to be a complete impossibility. The magic of the church seems to express itself in a subtle, yet fundamentally weird way.
You never thought to look outside of those windows while you were climbing up, but something catches your eye before you can focus on those; it seems like there were two stained glass windows just a few more flights of stairs up. They don’t seem to evoke any biblical imagery you’re familiar with, and to exist in such an odd tower… Now you’re curious. Now you’re very curious.
So you push on, despite your exhaustion. You’ve already come all this way, so what’s a few more flights of stairs?
Your legs feel like jelly when they finally reach the floor where the stained glass windows were, a little corner of the flights of stairs where the floor was large and flat enough for you to sit down. The stained glass windows seem to loom over you in all of their abstract beauty, failing to form cohesive shapes as you try to make sense of them. What you can recognize, however, are their colors.
One of the stained glass windows consists of primarily black and purple glass, with a bit of white glass near the top and blue and green glass being speckled infrequently across the window. It sort of reminds you of Emma with how she usually dresses.
The other stained glass window boasts a primarily rose color, with a little bit of pale pink, white and black scattered throughout its design. Although much less busy in its design, the colors immediately bring Selever to mind.
These windows make a strange pair. You doubt your father made these windows himself; when he built this church, every piece of art he had either commissioned or conjured up was for the express purpose of invoking a striking biblical image to enhance his sermons. Abstract art was neither his interest nor his forte.
(I swear I saw those windows move.)
What? What does that even mean, you never saw anything! You must’ve just been seeing things, if you even thought you saw those windows move.
(No, you can’t just pull that card on us. You accepted that the church must have some kind of magic, so why is this suddenly too outlandish for you to accept?)
The voice in your head has a point, but it doesn’t change the fact that you didn’t see anything. And even if they did, what could they do besides change and shift colors?
And then you heard them speak.
“You know,” you heard your brother’s voice, and you quickly looked around to try and locate the source. It’s only when you don’t see him anywhere near you that his voice continues, “I didn’t think my sad sack of a little brother could climb this high. I figured you were more of a ‘drag everyone down with you’ kind of guy.”
You feel your chest and throat tighten, but you continue searching for the source of the voice. You’re beginning to feel sick again, and you still don’t have an answer—
(The windows!)
You focus your attention on the stained glass windows once again, and the rose colored window has most certainly changed, explicitly depicting your brother in a sitting position, looking down at you mockingly. Although the real deal certainly towers over you, this one felt… oppressive. It feels like he’s about to leap out from the window and crush you in one fell swoop.
The image of your brother laughs snidely at you, and damn it all, the windows were moving.
(I fucking told you so!)
“You know, I never did tell Barry and Gabi what you said to me that day. I mean, I turned out fine if I do say so myself, but you’re fucking neurotic about it! What’s wrong, little bro? Are you afraid your girlfriend’s gonna find out?”
You’re on the verge of crying as the stained glass Selever cackles at you, and from the corner of your vision, the other stained glass window shifts and warps as well. It takes a form much like Emma’s, the colors even shifting to more accurately represent her, and her image squats down and looks at you with curious green and blue eyes.
“Wow, your brother’s mean as hell! What did you even say on ‘that day’?” She doesn’t immediately attack you, but somehow it makes you feel worse. She looks so ready to accept the truth, but she couldn’t know what you’ve done. “I mean, you’ve been so kind and accepting to me, it can’t be that bad, right?”
You can’t stop trembling. You want to vomit. The two windows bear down on you, awaiting an answer from you, but the words can’t escape your throat. You grip tightly on your oversized hoodie, doing everything in your power to resist shaking and flapping your hands; it wouldn’t be polite to do so in front of them.
(I don’t want to be here anymore I don’t want to be here anymore I don’t want to be here anymore they’re going to hate us—)
The voice in your head doesn’t have a solution for this situation, and neither do you. The only thing you could feasibly hope to do is to mitigate failure as much as you can.
“I… I don’t know if I can tell you. I-I think you’ll hate me,” you choke out, almost sobbing, but the pressure on your chest lifts a little. It doesn’t last very long, but for that brief second…
“Wha… why would I hate you? Come on, you can trust me! I can trust you too, can’t I?” The image of Emma tries to stretch her hand out to you in a comforting manner, but her somewhat desperate tone only makes you seize up harder, and you back away in fear despite her hand not stretching past the window.
“You really think you can trust him?” The image of Selever looks to the image of Emma with a malicious smile, before looking right at you. “I thought I could trust him too, waaaay back then. But when I poured my heart out to him, he tried to crush my emotions, JUST LIKE THIS!”
His crystalline hand suddenly shoots out of the window in a much more real way than you had anticipated, and not only that, it’s more than large enough to make good on his implied promise to crush you! Your body and mind go into overdrive processing this impossibility, but one thing is clear; you have to get out of the way or you’re going to die!
You don’t even think as you jump back and away from the hand about to crush you, and your back hits something unpleasantly hard as you try to get away. But you can’t afford to stop, so before you can register what you’re doing, you use your arms to vault yourself over the hard thing you collided with and narrowly avoid the stained glass Selever’s hand crushing you and the railing.
You jumped over the railing.
(And now you’re falling.)
You are, perhaps, a bit too overwhelmed to really appreciate the terrifying sensation of falling long distances. In a dream, you would wake up within a second or so, and maybe take a few minutes to process everything once you’re up, but those were sudden falls when you weren’t burdened by just about everything else.
(By panic attacks, you mean. You had a panic attack a couple of days ago, and we were having one while the stained glass windows were interrogating you. You should’ve just went back down the stairs when things got too much for us.)
(Huh. Usually you’d respond to something I say pretty quickly.)
(Are you even listening to me?)
(Hello? Ras? Raszul? Rasazy?)
(Oh, you’ve blacked out, haven’t you.)
(Son of a bitch, I guess I have to do something about it. I know for a fact you don’t want to die, and neither do I.)
(Our perception of the world seems to have massively slowed down thanks to the adrenaline coursing through our body, and I can tell from the angle and direction that we’re falling in that we’re going to be in for a hard landing if I don’t do something about it. Righting our body to maybe not land back first is challenging, given my lack of familiarity with it, but I managed to get us falling feet first.)
(God, how the hell do you live like this? Your body feels terrible to operate, are you sure you don’t have body dysphoria? Could you maybe grow your hair out a little more?)
(Well, you’re not exactly in the right place to answer that. I should be focusing more on getting us out of here alive and hopefully well.)
(We’re getting pretty close to our starting point, but falling interrupted would mean we would miss it and break one or more bones on something else, like the stairs below or the railings that adorn them. But with the strange magic this place exhibits, perhaps I could awaken my own magic.)
(When we were about level with the door we entered, I would attempt to propel our body forward with magic I wasn’t sure I had. Against all odds, however, I managed to cancel our downward momentum and dash forward in the air, safely landing in front of the door, and the impact on our legs was negligible to nonexistent. Ha, it’s like that one game your brother would play to show off to his boyfriend.)
(With that out of the way, I’d exit the weird tower through the door we came in through, and it seems we’re just in time for the family to finish cleaning up. I’d ask if it’s our family or just yours, but it’s not like I’m your weird and unique sister or anything, I’m just a part of you.)
(Whoa, you having blacked out means I don’t get interrupted even if I say things like that! This is amazing! Alright, alright, I guess I’m in charge now!)
(I can see your dad stretching after finishing up all the cleaning, and I can see your mom leaning in to give him a surprise kiss on the cheek and getting him to giggle. For a bunch of immortals, they can get as sappy as any young couple you’d find on TV.)
(Your brother isn’t kissing anyone right now, but he must’ve been done with cleaning stuff up for a while now, because he’s absolutely immersed in his phone and smiling dumbly, texting someone who I can only assume to be his boyfriend. I think he was called Julius? I don’t remember. I can only steal so much information from your memory banks.)
(Damn, I bet you want that kind of relationship with Emma, don’t you? I do too, but honestly, I’m also kinda scared. I think that one can wait; in the meantime, I’ll be walking up to Sel and sitting on the same pew next to him, putting an arm around the backrest casually as he looks at you. Or I guess he’s looking at me, since I’m in charge now.)
“Hey Sel,” (I’d greet your brother, waving my free hand and giving a small but tired smile. I think my voice is a bit higher than yours, which is a little weird since we share the same body, but… I think I like this. When he turns to look at me, he seems to be a bit weirded out for a split second before shifting to a nervous smile. I guess he’s not used to seeing you smile or talking in this kind of voice, which I guess is to be expected.)
“Hey Ras,” (he’d give a nervous chuckle,) “not to alarm you or anything, but your eyes are glowing.”
(Wait, what?)
(Wait, WHAT?!)
“My eyes are what,” (I’d ask flatly, trying to suppress the sudden panic that was threatening to overwhelm me specifically. I’d definitely stopped smiling, but I’m worried that even that would be too emotive. I’m not even sure what I’m trying to avoid here, but…)
“Yeah, they’re kinda… dark cyan, if that makes any sense?” (He really doesn’t, but I hang onto my patience for dear life just in case he had an explanation that would soothe me.) “I know Dad’s eyes glow this rose color when he exerts himself using his magic, and mine glow the same color when I do that… I thought you didn’t know any magic yet, though?”
(Oh, this is worse. This is so much worse. I can feel his eyes boring into my soul. It’s not like the stained glass windows, but I don’t think I’m ready to face your family yet.)
(They’re further away, but I can see your parents giving us rather concerned looks. They don’t know it’s me. I don’t know what they’ll do if they know it was me, but… your father’s the head of the church, isn’t he? We’re literally in a church right now! He’s going to exorcize me!)
(Come on, Ras, wake up! I don’t know if it’s safe for me out there! Please! I DON’T WANNA DIE!)
You suddenly jolt awake, and it takes you a solid 20 seconds to regain your bearings. Selever reaches out a hand to try and keep you steady, but you wave him off.
Okay, okay, calm down. When you were last conscious, you were falling off the stairs trying to escape from a stained glass version of Selever. The real deal is nowhere near as murderous, but it doesn’t feel good to face someone you’ve hurt so much.
Speaking of Selever, he seems to be a bit shocked at some developments you’re not sure you were there for, judging by his wide eyes and lack of smile, but he eventually settles on a soft, genuine smile.
“Oh, and now your eyes have stopped glowing. I guess you got tired of using your weird secret magic.” He shrugs his shoulders and laughs a little, but he still seems a bit nervous. You kind of are too, since you shouldn’t know any magic. Your father never taught you any, because you never asked to learn any. What happened there?
You suddenly feel a wave of exhaustion rock your body, practically knocking the wind out of you as you somehow slump down even further than before. A weird noise comes out of your throat, but it’s at least a little funny, enough for you to laugh at internally. You probably ought to tell him something, but you’re not sure what.
(You should tell him you pushed yourself too hard trying to climb up the church’s tower.)
Uh, okay? You’re not sure how that’s going to explain the ‘weird secret magic’ you apparently used, but maybe if you had time to think about it—
(Just stick to that story and let them build their own conclusions.)
No, what? You’re just as confused as the rest of your family, you don’t know what’s going on! Sure, it’d be better to lie to make sure they aren’t too worried, but—
(PLEASE.)
Okay, sheesh! You’ll follow the weird voice in your head, especially if he’s begging you to do it. To hear him grovel like this was most unusual, to say the least.
“I went to explore the church, and I pushed myself too hard trying to climb my way up the tower. The climb back down wasn’t fun,” you explain as if you’ve rehearsed this a thousand times in your head, as any and all prepared speeches should be. The explanation seems to satisfy Selever, and though your mother sighs at your apparent recklessness, she seems to accept your explanation as well.
Your father nods at you, but his eyes dart back and forth between the door to the eldritch tower and yourself. You don’t know what he’s thinking, but you suspect that as head of the church, he’s at least somewhat aware of what may have transpired there.
(Don’t let him find out about me.)
Okay, that came out of nowhere. Why?
(Your dad’s a priest. Your family is religious. I’ll be mistaken for some kind of demon and get exorcized, and I don’t want to die.)
The voice in your head really doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You’re a demon, he’s a demon, and it’s getting annoying how much he wants to play dumb when he should know everything you know. You’re literally the same person!
(Okay, fine, I didn’t realize what you were. Fucking Christ, I was…)
The voice in your head was what, exactly?
(Shut the fuck up. I’ll explain it to you when we’re home.)
Fine. Ugh, the voice in your head is being rude today.
Even as Selever forms a portal back home, you can’t help but feel… lost. It feels like you’ve somehow lost a panic attack; you didn’t recover yourself, you had nobody to tell you that everything was going to be fine, you just… got booted out of the tower. You’ve skipped the recovery process.
There’s a mild pressure in your head, but you don’t hear anything coherent as you step through the portal. It seems that the voice in your head has committed to their promise to explain things back at home.
But honestly? When you’re back home, you don’t want to do anything. You simply don’t have the energy for anything after that harrowing climb. So instead, once you’ve made it to your room, you collapse in your bed, too exhausted to do anything but turn a little in bed.
And even then, you fall into a deep slumber without even pulling your blanket over yourself. You probably won’t be waking up anytime soon.
…
(God, we’re so fucking sweaty.)
(I’m making the executive decision to get up and shower before we get back to our nap.)
Notes:
I hesitate to make any substantial claims about plurality since most of my knowledge comes from Homestuck fanfiction, Celeste memes and browsing through Pluralpedia to make sure I don't fuck this up, but I did write the dialogue in this chapter with the intention of depicting it.
Chapter 5: My Name Is Black Raspberry
Summary:
Someone Else takes the reigns for a bit, and kicks in motion a lot of things.
Notes:
(cw: internalized transphobia, existential fear, misgendering, and very awkward and unintentionally transphobic questions)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
(Your name is Raszul Morningstar. But that’s not my name.)
(Honestly, I don’t know what I’d name myself. I don’t want to necessarily co-opt the nickname Emma gave you, since you two are friends and she doesn’t know about me. It’s… weird, to feel so lonely when I’m very much not alone.)
(Whatever. I need to get us cleaned up.)
(Existence without adrenaline is new to me. It feels kind of surreal to just be… living. Living without an express purpose like keeping you, keeping us safe. Although, I guess I still have important work to do.)
(Getting up is a challenge; our body has been completely exhausted in the physical sense, our muscles all limp from the adrenaline crash you experienced. It’s perfectly normal for you to be exhausted, especially with us getting thrown through the wringer both physically and emotionally. I was able to recover a little in the latter though, so… thanks for letting me rest.)
(I take a look at our body in the mirror, trying to get used to the sight of what is essentially ‘myself’ for the first time. I know for a fact that you don’t put much thought into your own appearance, but… man, our body’s a mess. Frazzled hair, dull clothes that don’t fit us well in the slightest… our pale pink complexion doesn’t save us from being a complete and utter fashion crime, but I’m not here to sell us out to the fashion police.)
(Our eyes aren’t glowing at all, though. It seems Selever had the right idea: the glowing eyes seem to come from magic usage, which I most certainly did trying to save us. And now, I’m able to go about doing things without anyone suspecting anything, as long as I pretend to be you.)
(Looking into our closet, it seems you do actually have some decent clothes. I’m guessing you wear baggy clothes in order to hide away from others, because you have panic attacks a lot. But that’s not important, because now I know I can take control if it gets too much for you.)
(I’d eventually settle on a white long sleeved shirt and a black pair of sweatpants for our clothes for the rest of our day, heading to the bathroom with them in tow. Thankfully, there’s clean and dry towels we can use after our shower.)
(I thought I would be glad to remove our grungy, sweaty clothes so we could finally shower and feel at least a little fresh, but I made the mistake of looking into the bathroom mirror. Seeing our body like this felt so… wrong. I felt that way when I first controlled our body, but how is this fine to you? If you could see what I saw…)
(No, I should be glad that you can’t. I don’t wanna lump too many types of gender dysphoria onto you, not when you’re already suffering. Even if you don’t see it.)
(I’ve got work to do, though. Once I’m done showering, I’ll figure out some way to communicate with you.)
—
(I couldn’t help but yawn as I finished drying our hair, the warmth of the hair dryer basically trying to blast me into the sleep dimension. But I resisted, as any motivated girl would, since I had a lot of work to do.)
(Putting on our new clothes actually felt quite nice, and I felt like we looked decent enough in it. I guess I can’t judge you for enjoying gray clothes, but I feel like we deserve just a tiny bit more flair in our style.)
(Well, I’m done admiring myself in the mirror. Back to our room I go.)
(The physical exhaustion from our body is still there, but I’m feeling a bit more refreshed. I could see Selever heading into his room, but he seems to have noticed us. I wouldn’t call myself a loud walker, but I don’t think either of us particularly cared about being quiet.)
“Oh wow, new outfit? It looks pretty good on you,” (he compliments me, punctuating it with finger guns towards me. It’s a gender neutral compliment, but I’ll take what I can get.)
“Oh, you think so? Thank you so much, Sel!” (I like to think of myself as that unrestrained part of you that you always try to hide, but that’s not going to stop me from giving your brother… or I guess our brother, some proper thanks.)
“It’s no big deal. I give you a lot of shit, but I’m really glad to see my sibling so happy.”
(He slinks back into his room proper, and I’m left in the hallway trying to process all this… unfathomable gender euphoria. I bet he suspects there’s some gender stuff going on with you, you should really try experimenting with it sometime! I’ll tell you later when you’re up.)
(When I head into our room, I can see that it’s been tampered with, but only slightly. There’s something on the bed, and it’s that plain black skirt again. You might’ve thought it was a prank back then, but I have a different theory.)
(Putting on the skirt over our sweatpants isn’t the most flattering look, but if I cheat the angles in the mirror a little bit, I could conceivably make it look like leggings, and… oh yeah. Oh hell yeah. Ras is taking her first steps as a girl!)
(Oh yeah, I need a name not co-opted from your friend, and to tell you things. Time to get to work.)
(I’ve already had some time to think about how I want to do the latter while in the shower. Since you and Emma use Pesterchum, I think that’ll be my means of communicating with you.)
(Hmm, but what about my name? Maybe I can start with ‘Ras’ and work off from there, but I want something cute. Maybe I’ll randomly generate a chumhandle and see if I get any inspiration from there.)
(It seems that the generator has given me ‘tenebreAgata’, which seems to be Italian? A quick search tells me that ‘tenebre’ means ‘darkness’, and ‘Agata’ is a form of ‘Agatha’, and that means ‘good’. It’s giving me a name roughly equating to ‘good darkness’.)
(Ras, Ras… Raspberry? It’s a little silly, but I think I like that name! Maybe ‘Black Raspberry’, but it’s a bit of a mouthful and it sounds more cool than cute, but I think I’d like to use that on occasion! I guess I’ll adopt Raspberry as my main name, then!)
(Well, either way. Creating my Pesterchum account was quite easy, so here I go messaging you. There’s a lot I want to say, but you can probably just check the pesterlogs when I’m done.)
(While I’m going about it, though, I… can’t help but feel some kind of existential dread. It feels like I’m crazy, like I’m trying to talk to myself, even if we’re very much different people. I don’t know what’s going on, but I feel like I’m going to…)
(Breathe, Raspberry. Touching the skirt I have on will ground me. I’m here. I’m real. Even when you wake up, it won’t take away from my realness.)
(Although, I guess I’d better make a backup plan in case you try to shut me out.)
tenebreAgata [TA] began pestering determinedTimekeeper [DT]!
TA: I don’t know where to start with this, but please don’t panic.
DT: Always a good sign.
DT: Mind telling me who you are? I don’t recognize this chumhandle.
TA: I’m trying to figure out how to tell you, but if you want my raw and unfiltered thoughts.
TA: My name is Raspberry. You could also say I’m a part of Raszul, if that makes any sense.
DT: I don’t know if I do? But you’re not gonna hurt Rasazy, are you?
TA: Holy shit hell no, I wouldn’t dream of it.
TA: Admittedly I’m pestering you because I have some personal fears and other bullshit drilling away at me but that’s neither here nor there.
TA: If you gather just one thing from our convo here please remind Ras that the thing he wanted to talk to you about all that while back was gender related.
DT: I don’t really get most of the ‘part of Ras’ bits but I’ll make sure to remind him of that.
DT: I hope you don’t make me regret trusting you.
TA: What are you gonna do if I turn out to be untrustworthy? You gonna wavedash to our house and kick our collective ass?
DT: Pfft, you’re hilarious!
DT: If you’re really as nice as you present yourself, I hope I can be your friend too. See you around!
TA: See ya, Emma.
tenebreAgata [TA] ceased pestering determinedTimekeeper [DT]!
(Alright. My conversation with Emma is done, I messaged what I needed to message you, and I’ve logged out of my Pesterchum account. It seems you’re still passed out, so maybe… maybe I can just enjoy my control over this body for a little bit.)
(Standing up from our chair, I’d walk over in front of the mirror, and… wow. I think we look exceptionally pretty like this. I’m going to just… swish our body from side to side, watching as our skirt does the same.)
(It’s even more beautiful than I could’ve ever imagined. Everything feels like it flows nicely, like I don’t have to constantly push against something else for once in my life. It’s like I’m…)
(It’s like I’m free.)
(I can’t stop myself from laughing as I spin around in my room, feeling the skirt around my waist spin with me as I keep accelerating. This is… this is ‘skirt go spinny’, isn’t it? This is that gender euphoria thing you learned about! I’ve never felt so alive!)
(I’m going at dizzying speeds. Dangerous speeds. But it’s so exhilarating, I can’t stop! I feel like a ballerina doing a pirouette, adored by the masses watching her! I…)
What the hell are you doing?!
(Ras?!)
Why the hell are you spinning around? What the hell are you wearing? Is that a skirt?!
(Calm the fuck down! Don’t do anything rash!)
No, this isn’t right! You went to sleep earlier! Is this a dream? Why else would you be in these different clothes?
(Wait! Just stay there for a little longer and let me—)
What the hell is the voice in your head saying?! You try to put a stop to your spinning, trying to put the brakes on with your other foot—
(Ras, wait—)
You lose your balance and fall against your chair.
The impact is loud, and it certainly sounds devastating, but you’re too out of it to experience any severe pain even as you topple your chair over. You’re kind of just… dazed.
Against your previous warnings, Selever has warped directly into your room, although he seems to be in a panic from the sound in your room. He’s already kneeling down next to you, trying to lift your head up. This might not be the dream you thought it was…
“Ras, are you okay?! Come on, speak to me,” he yells out at first, but switches to a more hushed tone as he realizes you might not be receptive to loud noises. You blink a little heavily, but you push yourself up to assure him that you’re alright.
“I’m fine, Sel,” you reply shakily, quickly touching your head to make sure it’s not bleeding or anything. Your hair feels… fluffy, as if recently washed and dried rather than the sweaty mess you remember being after the church experience. But you’re also not bleeding, so that’s good.
“You sure? You need anything?” Sel continues to question you, but you can tell he’s confident that you’re going to be fine. He looks over you one last time, and you see a small smile creep up his face.
“You look nice in that skirt, by the way.”
Oh, right. The skirt. You don’t know why you’re wearing it, because you very clearly remember going to bed in not these clothes. What’s happening…?
(You should check the computer once he leaves. I left something for you.)
You really don’t know what the voice in your head is talking about, but fine. You’ll trust the voice in your head, as stupid as he is.
(I’m neither a guy nor stupid. I know things.)
“...Thanks,” you tell Selever, despite yourself. You may not know why you’re dressed differently, or why you were spinning in place when you came to, but you definitely feel something positive when you look at yourself.
You’re not entirely sure if you’d call it gender euphoria, though. You doubt you could feel this fresh with a simple change of clothes, and it might just be because Selever told you that you looked nice. But you don’t hate this new look.
(...fuck it, at least we’re making progress.)
“Take care of yourself, okay? I’ll always be here if you need me,” Selever pats your back as you stand up, pulling your chair up as well before conjuring a portal back to his room and leaving. He notably doesn’t ask for what you’re pretty sure is his skirt back, and you’re not exactly sure why you were worried about that.
The pressure in your head builds slightly, but then stops. The voice in your head must be too tired to properly tell you anything, or perhaps it’s trying to withhold information. Either way, you’d better check the computer as requested.
You’re not sure how you feel about the pesterlog that greets you.
tenebreAgata [TA] began pestering morningstarCrusader [MC]!
TA: Hi Ras. I don’t actually know what to call you, because I don’t want to breach your privacy or anything and use a nickname you don’t want me using.
TA: I don’t really know how I’m related to you, but I know for a fact we share a body. I know this for a fact because I managed to tap into some kind of magic to save us from falling to our death.
TA: If you need a name for me, you can call me Raspberry.
The voice in your head has a name now? Raspberry is a bit of a silly name, but fine, whatever. You’ll play along. If the church’s secret room can make stained glass windows give you panic attacks and try to kill you, it can probably give the voice in your head its own separate consciousness.
TA: There’s probably more I need to say but I can’t format it very well so I’m just gonna spill it here as a stream of consciousness thing.
TA: I took a shower for the first time today. We really needed it, I think, after that wild church thing.
TA: I’m also the one who chose to wear the skirt. I thought it looked quite nice on us.
For what Raspberry was worth, it was probably right. You do look quite nice in the outfit it picked out for you, but… it feels like something’s missing, and you’re not sure what.
TA: It really made me feel femme in a way you don’t really allow yourself to.
TA: Which reminds me.
TA: I’m a girl.
Raspberry is what.
TA: I thought I told you before but I just remembered you were unconscious when I was thinking those thoughts.
TA: So I guess I’d better solidify it here and now.
TA: That’s all I can think of. Hopefully that’s enough.
tenebreAgata [TA] ceased pestering morningstarCrusader [MC]!
So the voice in your head… is a girl? Is that even a thing that’s possible? Raspberry’s a girl, and you’re a boy… who looks very nice in a skirt. Do you even want to be a boy?
It doesn’t matter. You don’t hate being a boy. Imagining yourself as a girl is… it’s selfish is what it is. If you were to try and transition, why should you deserve it? It’s just like what the stained glass Selever said; you’ve tried to crush his hopes and dreams, and for what? Why were you so blind and ignorant to the idea that he could like being a guy better?
(If you were… oh, fuck this.)
Huh. Seems like Raspberry has finally dropped the condescending and vague act.
(Well, now that you’re paying attention to me. You know damn well why you said the shit you said to Selever way back then.)
Yeah, you know why. It’s because you were a shitty little brother—
(You are SMARTER than this. You can’t keep refusing to acknowledge these things.)
Oh yeah, says who? You’re going to give Raspberry a piece of your mind, and you’re going to pester her so there’s a written record of your real and true thoughts about her so she can’t gaslight you into thinking things that aren’t your—
determinedTimekeeper [DT] began pestering morningstarCrusader [MC]!
…what?
You don’t really have time to question things. An unfathomable amount of things have happened today, and you haven’t even had lunch yet.
DT: Hi! I hope church was alright!
Well, if she’s pestering you.
MC: Yeah, it was. It’s a little more draining than usual, so I’m still resting.
DT: Damn, I getcha. Some days are just like that.
DT: I know you’re tired and all, but did you remember what you wanted to talk to me about last week?
Ah, that. You do remember, but you’re not even sure if it’s polite to ask her. Should you go through with it?
MC: I think so, yeah, but I’m not sure how to word it.
DT: If I had to wager a guess, is it gender related?
Oh. She seems to have you figured out. You’re not sure how you feel about it, but your talks with the real Emma have brought nothing but joy to you.
MC: It is, yeah! How did you know, though?
DT: I just sort of wagered a guess, since you’ve been doing all this research and you mentioned not being sure how to word it.
DT: I wouldn’t mind you asking me stuff, though! I’ll let you know if I don’t wanna answer a particular question, but I trust you to be nice with it!
You… don’t. But that’s not important right now.
MC: Okay. Okay.
MC: What was it like figuring out your gender?
DT: Oh, I only figured it out a few months ago!
DT: I don’t know if I ever felt any overt wrongness before I stumbled on all sorts of trans resources online, but it sort of lifted a weight off my shoulders I didn’t know was there?
DT: Really, who knows where I’d be without all that.
It seems that Emma’s experiences are a bit… milder than most depictions you’ve seen in your books. Then again, your recent research painted much broader strokes in how one could realize themselves, but you still can’t help but feel something… weird? You should’ve thought your next question through a bit more, but already your fingers have committed to their dance across the keyboard.
MC: Does it ever feel like you’re faking it at times?
MC: wait
MC: I’m sorry I worded that poorly I didn’t mean to imply anything.
DT: Admittedly if it was anyone but you I’d find that question pretty sus.
Ugh, fuck, this isn’t good. She’s probably feeling obligated to answer your question, and you don’t want to put that pressure on her because you had a momentary lapse in judgment.
MC: You don’t have to answer that question if you don’t want to.
MC: I was out of line there and I’m sorry.
DT: Hey, it’s okay! I trust you had good intentions with that question.
MC: No I’m serious, you don’t have to answer that.
DT: I mean, I getcha. Maybe it’s projection, but I could come up with a few reasons why you’d ask that.
Oh. Out of all the answers you could’ve anticipated, this was not one of them. You suppose Emma does have some gender insights that you might not have.
DT: But yeah, it’s like that sometimes. Impostor syndrome can be a bitch to deal with.
DT: If I’m being honest, even our first meeting was kinda like that. Doing makeup helped a good bit, but a lot of my confidence was just the whole ‘fake it til you make it’ type deal.
DT: And you know what, I think I made it!
You know what? You’re happy for her. Something about her overcoming that impostor syndrome or whatever it’s called gives you a deep, soothing comfort. Maybe…
No. Good friends don’t take advantage of their friends.
(Oh for fuck’s sake.)
MC: That’s great! I’m really glad that I didn’t put you off or anything, I had to work really hard to understand all the trans stuff.
MC: Like before I met you I had basic knowledge of the idea thanks to some friends, the same ones I met at the library the other day actually.
MC: I did my research on the matter because of them but then stopped for some reason?
DT: Sometimes life is just like that.
DT: I mean, it’s why I’ve been putting off voice training for basically ever. I mean, I wanna do it, but actually willing myself to do it is like smashing my face into a wall.
Huh, that’s… hm. It does feel reminiscent of your reasons for not continuing your research. It’s a little strange given how easily the rest of academics comes to you, but that’s just how it is, you suppose.
(Panic attacks, Ras. You stopped because of panic attacks.)
You internally tell Raspberry to shut up. It was just the one time.
(Are you sure it was just the one?)
MC: Maybe one of these days we could do it together?
DT: Whoa, you’d do that for me? No pressure if you wanna back out, but that’s really sweet of you!
You don’t actually know what you were thinking when you typed that. You were probably just trying to shut Raspberry up for a moment, but now that you’re looking more closely at what you’ve read… Do you wanna back out?
You know what? No, you don’t. You’ve given it a little thought, and it’s great to have an excuse to hang out with Emma. The extent of your knowledge of voice training has only been that ‘it exists’ for the longest time, and maybe if you learn about it with someone else, maybe you’ll have more fun with it.
(God, that does sound fun, actually…)
MC: Yeah, I wanna do it! Maybe tomorrow after school?
DT: Oooh! I’ll check with my mom to make sure, but it should be doable!
(Yes. Hell yes. Hell fucking yes.)
You’ve successfully maybe set up a time to hang out with Emma. You are so good at this. You are a good friend.
(You are a good friend.)
DT: I just checked with her, and she gave me the okay! We can do it either in school or at my house!
DT: Although voice training does take a long time to actually ‘complete’, so to speak, so I guess we’ll see how long I commit to it!
MC: I’ll be with you for every step you choose to take.
(Wow, where the hell did you get that?)
You don’t know either. Something about your friendship with her excites you. The idea of doing things together on a schedule that you and she determined. It’s like you’re stepping out of your brother’s shadow for the first time, and though it was certainly a comfortable place to be…
DT: God, you’re so sappy!
DT: But I can’t say I don’t love that part of you. See you tomorrow!
MC: Yeah, see you, Emma! Love you!
MC: well i mean platonically but you get the idea
DT: Haha, I do!
determinedTimekeeper [DT] ceased pestering morningstarCrusader [MC]!
The light was illuminating so many new and exciting things you can’t go back.
(Maybe it’ll show you some truths that bring us further happiness.)
You don’t feel like engaging with Raspberry on that front. But that’s okay. Tomorrow will be a new day, and it’s going to be a new day with Emma in it!
You’re excited. You’re happy. Raspberry should be too.
(You know what? I am. I hella am. Let’s kick tomorrow’s ass together!)
That you’ll do.
The rest of the evening passes by without much fanfare. You did remember to take off the skirt before you went downstairs for dinner, but that’s all you can be bothered to recall.
(It’s a little hard to look upon the past when the future looks so bright.)
You fall asleep happy, for the first time in a long while.
Notes:
Rasazy did not manage to beat her alternate universe sister's record of 16,032 words to transition.
Then again, it was never supposed to be a competition.
Chapter 6: Heat From Fire, Fire From Heat
Summary:
Raszul voice trains with Emma, but Someone Else is getting impatient.
Notes:
This shit has been meandering for a while and I've reached the stage in my life where I'm questioning the quality of the fics I put out.
Of course, no matter how long of a hiatus I go on for them, I'm nothing if not committed to the bit.
(cw: voice dysphoria)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Your name is Raszul Morningstar. The school hours are over, but you are ultimately still unsure of where you’ll meet Emma. You would love nothing more than to commit to one place or the other, but you froze up when it came to that kind of decision making.
It looks like Emma’s coming over, so you suppose you’ll have to make that decision together.
“Hey Rasazy,” she calls out to you, offering a playful little ‘bleh’ as she sticks her tongue out at you, “you doing alright?”
“Huh? Oh yeah, I am,” you reply and wave back, and there’s something about the way she carries herself that gets you blushing a little.
(Oh come on, you totally find her cute when she sticks her tongue out like that. I know that for a fact because I find it cute.)
Yeah, well Raspberry made it clear she’s not you. So it clearly doesn’t count.
“That’s great,” Emma interrupts Raspberry, unbeknownst to her, “so where do you wanna go for the voice training thing?”
“Uh…” you hiss as you try to think of a proper location to take your voice training. Well, ‘your’ plural, but you’re not sure if you’re ready to head to Emma’s house yet. “Maybe… the school rooftop? I know it definitely won’t have many people, maybe my brother and his boyfriend at most.”
“That sounds good!” Emma smiled at you, taking your hand in a way that does not in any way, shape or form inspire feelings that might ruin your friendship, practically dragging you to the stairs so you could reach the school rooftop together. Her energy is fun to be around, but a little exhausting.
(So basically she’s Barry and Gabi but infinitely less insufferable.)
That was pretty uncalled for, but yeah, you do like her more than them.
Your internal thoughts apparently take long enough for Emma to drag you up to the school rooftop, where yep, Selever and Julius are. It seems like they’re studying together, but not very well.
“If we misunderstand each other while having a conversation, do we pass the Bechdel Test?”
“What in the fuck are you talking about?” Julius has been losing himself to his laughter for some time now, apparently having been bombarded with Selever’s dumb questions throughout the study session. You’re pretty sure they’ve accomplished basically nothing despite arriving here an hour earlier than you did.
“Man, your brother and his boyfriend sure are an animated bunch, huh,” Emma comments as the two of you make your way to your own little corner of the roof, away from the two of them. It’d be pretty rude to interrupt them by talking out loud next to them, even if they’re not getting anything done anyway.
“Yeah, they definitely can be… alright, let’s see…” You were already searching up a video for voice training while Emma found a place for the two of you to sit, and by the time you both sat down, you were already offering her an earbud to listen to together.
The video is pretty long and quite informative, and there’s certainly quite a few helpful exercises. There’s a lot more to the stuff than you realized. It’s so… layered. Pitch, weight, resonance… It feels like building a house in a way, with an emphasis on foundations since it’s a beginner’s lesson.
You spend a lot of time together trying to slide your pitches, just to try and get a feel for your voices. The next bit, the one about trying to lighten your voice… that one’s a bit harder. It’s supposed to be about finding a voice you’re comfortable with, to find a high pitch you can hit comfortably, and it’s…
“God DAMMIT!” Emma suddenly yells out, interrupting her own strained attempts at lightening her voice and pounding the concrete floor beneath her with her fist. It startles you badly enough that you end up yanking the earbud out of your ear when you jump back, and she recognizes her screwup as she reaches for you apologetically.
“W-Wait no, I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry! Agh, fuck, my hand…”
You’re not going to leave her, you never had any intention to. You’re quick to sit back down next to her, even reaching out to take her hand and make proper eye contact with her.
“It’s alright, I… I get why you lashed out. It can be really frustrating, and admittedly it’s really hard for me too and I hate it, but I did promise I’d stick with you for however long you want to commit.”
…now where did that come from? Why would you, a cis boy, hate how hard it is to figure out voice training? You knew going into it that it wasn’t going to be something you can accomplish in a few minutes. You’re the one with the outsider’s perspective, the shoulder for Emma to lean on. Is this what it means to care for a friend this deeply?
(Rasazy, honey, you have to stop deluding yourself.)
What…? What the hell did Raspberry just call you?
“...thanks, Rasazy.”
Your attempt to communicate with Raspberry is interrupted again by Emma squeezing your hand, smiling sadly at you. You have to be strong for her, especially with how much she’s done for you. You will not fail her like you have with Sel.
(You know that’s not what I’m trying to talk to you about.)
You know. But that’s not what’s important right now. You pause the video on your phone with your free hand, keeping Emma’s hand in your grasp as you sit together in quiet contemplation. When the silence is broken, it’s your friend that speaks.
“I’m just gonna drink a bit of water before we continue, if you’re still up for that,” she tells you, implicitly offering you an out for if you don’t want to continue this voice training. But you don’t take this out, instead nodding at her as you reach for your own water bottle to drink from.
(So, Rasazy, about your voice training frustrations.)
Oh, so Raspberry’s doing this on purpose. You’re a busy guy, so you’re not going to argue with her about using a name only Emma can use for you. You just want her to get straight to the point.
(Ras, have you ever stopped to consider why you even have those? I might only have fragments of your memories, but I believe Barry and Gabi had quite a bit of voice dysphoria.)
Get. To. The. Point.
(I don’t think it’s very cis of you to feel this frustrated about your perceived lack of progress.)
You swear you can hear Raspberry laughing, and though you’re too busy quenching your thirst to physically scowl at a voice in your head, you’re pretty annoyed at her.
(When haven’t you been annoyed at me, really? Us falling over yesterday was your fault, for the record.)
Raspberry sure loves to talk, but what about her? How does she feel about the voice training thing?
(I dunno, I’ve only taken control of our body twice. I do have a higher natural pitch than you, though.)
Right, right. Rub it in, why doesn’t she?
(Oooh, am I sensing envy? Although I don’t think I’m that far ahead of you in terms of voice training. There’s weight and resonance we have to work on too.)
She says ‘we’ like this is a thing you both want, and for what? What are you trying to accomplish by feminizing your voice?
(I could answer that for you, or I could not. I think we both know the answer.)
You’re not going to dignify her. You’ve probably kept Emma waiting long enough by now. When you turn to face her, you can see she’s been waiting patiently for your response.
“Oh, sorry, I spaced out for a moment there. If you’re still up for continuing, I am too,” you tell her as truthfully as you can. You’d rather not tell her that you were having a whole conversation with yourself, because how would you even start with that?
(No comment.)
You’re not sure how to feel about Raspberry’s response, but fine, whatever. You’re just going to continue voice training with Emma. Slide around, find a comfortable pitch, try to lighten it… this stuff is hard work. And you’ll have to stick with it for potentially months.
(Why don’t you let me take control? I could show you my voice, show you what this body can accomplish if you set your mind to it.)
What? No, you’re not letting Raspberry take control. This isn’t a dire situation that needs her intervention, and you’re not letting her do shenanigans with your body again.
(Come on, it was just the one time! Honestly, I feel like I’ve barely spoken at all both times I’ve taken over your body, I want to hear what my voice is really like. I want to know for real.)
No. Not now. You’ve seen how Emma felt about her own voice training frustrations, and unlike a certain someone in your head, you haven’t forgotten about that. If Raspberry tried to flex and show off her voice and it came out exactly as she described her voice to be…
(Okay, fine. I forgot to consider her feelings. I’m sorry.)
Raspberry’s voice cracks a little, struggling not to sob. It’s a little surreal that someone who only exists in your head is crying, but you’ll get this sorted out soon.
(Fuck you, I’m not crying. I can’t do that with you in control of our body.)
Whatever, you have things to do.
Heat from fire, fire from heat, there’s kind of a lot you keep having to repeat. Nothing interesting is really happening, but that’s how it is. You and Emma keep your hands held as you continue your vocal exercises, mainly as a way to ground yourselves and not lash out in frustration.
It does prove to be a bit challenging when the both of you run out of water. Maybe it’s time for the both of you to call it quits here, and you turn to Emma with that in mind.
“Do you want to call it here? We should probably be headed home soon.”
“Yeah, that might be for the best. I don’t know if I really made progress, but I had fun!” Emma smiles back at you, and it’s all you need to know that despite your mutual pain and frustration, it was all worth it.
“I did too, honestly. Maybe we can chat after dinner, but I’ll be going now. Take care,” you wave Emma goodbye as you stand up to leave.
“See you around, Rasazy!” Emma called back, and soon enough she was heading down the stairs, and she was out of sight before you know it. You can feel Selever looking your way once she’s gone, and though you would normally reject his usual offer to warp you back home, you were tired enough that it was tempting to do so.
(Hey, before you go.)
What’s Raspberry asking for now?
(I… I know I’ve been rude to you before about the whole body thing, but I do want some time with it. I was thinking…)
Really? Because the first time Raspberry took control, she panicked when she thought your family caught onto her specific existence. You don’t know what happened the second time beyond her apparently taking a shower and changing into new clothes, but…
(I talked to Selever on the way to our room. Our eyes weren’t glowing then, so he didn’t suspect a thing.)
Is she sure? You’re not going to go out and brazenly ask him about weird voices in your head, but he can be annoyingly perceptive about things.
(Please. Ras, I’m on the bargaining stage, I’ll agree with whatever conditions you set as long as I get to do something.)
Alright, fine. You have homework you need to do, and you’re not sure how soon dinner will be after that. Raspberry can have control of your body for a total of one hour for today once your homework is complete, and maybe for half an hour after dinner if you’ve completed your homework before then.
(Thank you. Holy shit, thank you so much. I promise you won’t come to harm.)
Man, she’s really desperate to get out there, huh? Whatever keeps her happy, you’re not going to make her upset when she can control your body.
(...if I stay quiet for the rest of the journey, will you stop insulting me? Please?)
You didn’t realize that counted as an insult, but alright. You’ll try to treat her more nicely.
It doesn’t take long for you to head over to Selever, and after a brief conversation, he conjures up a portal straight home for you to head through. He doesn’t follow through himself, though, because he has to deal with his boyfriend who’s still laughing himself to death over whatever inane bullshit Sel had been telling him.
Oh well, time to get things done.
—
Alright, you’ve completed your homework, and there’s some time left before dinner. Raspberry has fulfilled her end of the bargain by not interfering with you. You don’t know if you really like the idea of surrendering control of your body to someone else, but a promise is a promise.
How do you give her control?
(Uh. I don’t actually know? I’ve taken control of your body when you’ve blacked out, or when you’ve tried to sleep.)
Hm. Maybe you should just… attempt to ‘let go’? You’re not sure if it works like that. You don’t know how to find out how it works. You’re not just paralyzed in some kind of subconscious fear this time; you legitimately don’t know where to start your research on this.
(Yeah, I got nothing either.)
You lay down in bed, trying to relax control over your body. It’s time to test how conscious you can remain while Raspberry takes over. You lay there motionless, waiting for her to take control.
(This is the first time you’re awake for this, huh.)
Your right hand moves in front of your face without your input. It’s somewhat unnerving, you have to admit. Is that what happens while you’re blacked out?
(I guess? You’ve never been awake for it. When I woke you up the first time, you took over almost immediately. Granted, I did ask you to take over—)
Didn’t Raspberry have things she wanted to do?
(Right, right. I’ll get to it. Sitting up in our bed, I’d walk over to the mirror in our bedroom, once again trying to get a good look at our body. Honestly, you have a bad habit of dressing drab.)
You don’t really care. It gets you through the day, doesn’t it?
(Maybe you ought to go clothes shopping with Emma sometime. That’d be fun, right?)
Oooh, maybe… hey, wait a minute! Why are you letting Raspberry plan things out for you?
(Because I want the same things you do. But we both know you’re the one she’s befriended, so I’ll be giving you that push when you need it.)
When did you ask for—
(I stand up straight and place my right hand over my chest. I can feel our heart beating. I’m here. I’m real.)
What the— you’ve never interrupted Raspberry before! The audacity of this weird voice in your head!
(You literally have but okay.)
“My name is Raszul Morningstar,” (I begin, flinching at having to refer to myself with a name that doesn’t suit me,) “and I am 14 years old, almost 15. I live in the northeast section of Newgrounds city, with my parents and my brother. My brother’s name is Selever Morningstar, and he’s… 16 years old, closing in on 17.”
(Did I get that right?)
Raspberry has gotten the gist of it, at least. And while you’re at it, you notice that yeah, Raspberry has a higher tone to her natural voice. It’s surreal that your vocal chords are capable of that, but…
(You wanna develop it more, don’t you? I know I do.)
Do you…?
“What do I like? I’m not sure. I’ve never given myself the chance to enjoy things. Every day, for years on end, I’ve focused solely on making others happy,” (I continue to ramble as I pace back and forth, looking at the mirror as if I were holding a conversation with my own reflection.) “And for what? To see what ego death is like? To keep everyone around me happy at the expense of my own feelings? Because I’m not fucking down for that.”
You don’t like that Raspberry actually voices her swears.
(What? You literally swore before. And even if you haven’t, it’s not in your T&Cs, so I don’t care.)
Wait. Oh no, how much control did you allow Raspberry to have?
(Does it matter? I literally saved our lives. I deserve to have a little fun, at least until you learn to loosen up yourself.)
“Starting tomorrow,” (I point at the reflection in the mirror,) “I’m gonna do a lot of self reflection. I liked the skirt that Selever gave me yesterday. I… I liked voice training with Emma. There’s so much more I could explore.”
What is she planning? What does it mean?!
“Oh, Raszul…” (I feign talking to myself, but we both know who I’m talking to,) “you’ve spent so long living for others, you don’t even know what it’s like to live for yourself. Don’t you deserve better? Don’t you wanna just be free?”
You don’t like where this is going, you’re putting an end to this now. You’re going to take your body back whether Raspberry likes it or not!
(No, you’re not. Be reasonable about this.)
You’ve literally done it before. You just have to wake up and… oh. You see the problem now.
“Did Selever ever have makeup back in the day? Maybe I should ask him about that. How long has it been since we’ve properly done anything together?” (I ask myself out loud, although my question is genuine; how long has it been since you two have done anything together?)
You don’t know if you should answer that. You’re pretty sure Raspberry’s going to use that information for nefarious reasons which may or may not go against you.
(Rasazy—)
She doesn’t get to call you that. Raspberry is not Emma. She is not your friend.
(Ras, sweetheart, it doesn’t matter if you give me the information or not. It’s not dinner time yet, and I still have most of the hour. 50-ish minutes, maybe. Point being, I could just tell him whether or not you’re ready, and we wouldn’t want that now, would we?)
This isn’t fair. The voice in your head has tricked you into plans you don’t want to make, and you can’t do a damn thing about it.
(Hey, it’s not my fault you wanted to deny this for so long. Admit it, at least some part of you wanted this.)
No part of your alleged contract said you had to! Raspberry can try to “help you” all she wants, you’ll go into it kicking and screaming to get your point across!
(You stubborn bi— FINE. We can negotiate something. Whatever helps you realize the truth about yourself.)
She’s still on that?!
(I’M LITERALLY A PART OF YOU!)
If she’s really that, then you have the perfect terms for her. You can’t believe you’re reduced to this right now, but you don’t have much of a choice.
If she wants to drag your body into things so badly, tomorrow she can have free reign over your body. But you will not help her.
(I… really? I mean, that sounds great, but nothing?)
Well, not nothing. You’ll give her advice if she really, really needs it. But you are NOT going to take over for the whole day.
(I… that sounds great, don’t get me wrong, but isn’t that going into things too fast? You’re—)
—throwing her into the deep end? When she’s not ready yet?
(I-I just…)
You could gloat and lord this over her all night, but you don’t have that long. The important part is that Raspberry has two choices: she can bear the weight of the choices she tried to force on you, or she can leave you be. Those are her options. Take it or leave it.
(You’re really, REALLY fucking stubborn about this. But I’m going to help you get out of this funk no matter what. Point being, I’ll accept control of this body for the whole day.)
Then it’s settled. Tomorrow will be a day that Raspberry gets to live.
She remains quiet for the rest of the night.
—
morningstarCrusader [MC] began pestering determinedTimekeeper [DT]!
MC: Hey Emma.
DT: Hi Rasazy! You got anything you wanna talk about?
MC: Honestly, I can’t think of much. I do really like talking to you, but it’s hard sometimes.
MC: I think the voice training thing put a lot of thoughts in my head, and I don’t know how to feel about any of them.
DT: Gender thoughts?
MC: I don’t know.
MC: Maybe I’ll do something about them tomorrow, but no guarantees. Something tells me I’ll be getting pretty spontaneous about things tomorrow.
DT: Oooh, exciting! I’m excited to see that part of you, but either way I’ll be with you every step of the way no matter what, alright? Or at least, the ones you want me there for.
MC: I appreciate it. Goodnight, Emma.
DT: Nini, Rasazy!
morningstarCrusader [MC] ceased pestering determinedTimekeeper [DT]!
Notes:
Not gonna lie, I've mostly lost the direction I want to take the story in. But I do know what general plot beats I want.
Chapter 7: Acting As One, Living For Two
Summary:
Someone Else takes control for a day.
Things quickly go off the rails.
Notes:
(cw: internalized transphobia, paranoia, dysphoria, internal conflicts between alters)
Hi it's been a year since I updated this, I don't have any good excuses I just forgot.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
(Your name is Raszul Morningstar. And for today, that’s going to have to be my name.)
(I’m quite nervous about my first day of uninterrupted living, but I helped you out, didn’t I? I saved your life, I sent it on track to becoming much better than your dull and miserable existence… okay, I fucked up with the voice thing and Emma. I can’t deny that… but with only a day to move forward with things, I guess I gotta work that one out quickly too.)
(Guess I gotta start with the morning routine like anyone else. It’s not riveting, but you’re not letting me avoid it. Well, at least I can do my own thing with it afterwards.)
(It’s just the same ol’ when it comes down to it, right? Brush my teeth, take a shower… don’t look in the mirror.)
(Don’t look in the mirror. Don’t look in the mirror. Don’t look in the mirror. Don’t look in the mirror. Don’t look in the mirror.)
(I… ugh, I’m never used to how I look in the bathroom mirror. I guess it makes sense why you’re so insistent on oversized hoodies and coats, even if you don’t realize it. Our exposed form… ah, fuck mincing words, we look like shit.)
(Either way, the morning routine isn’t forever. I just have to power through it. We just have to power through it. We just have to power through it.)
(Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.)
“Whoa! Jeez, Ras, you okay?”
(Where am I?)
(I’m in… the hallway. Yeah, I’m here. I’m real. I don’t need your help.)
“Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Sorry if I worried you, Sel,” (I lie, I think. I don’t know if I’m fine, but that makes me more truthful than you by default.)
“Yeah, just be careful, okay? Come on, let’s go get breakfast.”
(So I do that, following Selever to the dining table. I don’t recall you speaking much when you ate, so I remain quiet too. I have to follow your every move in order to not get caught, to not be noticed.)
(This sucks.)
(Although… Maybe I can do something more? Just a little thing to speed things along. A little indulgence…)
“Uh, hey, Sel, before you go,” (I called out to him, before he could… teleport to Julius, I think. It’s what he does, right?) “Can I… u-um…”
“Hm? What is it, Ras?”
(It’s now or never. Not wanting… our, your, my parents to hear, I’d pull Selever down and whisper into his ear.)
“I wanna try some makeup stuff, but I dunno where to start. Can you help me after school?”
“Hell yeah,” (he’d whisper back as he put his hand on my shoulder. He seemed to want to ruffle my hair, but I guess he didn’t wanna mess it up too badly.) “Just text me when you’re ready. Or pester me. Whichever works.”
(And then he’s gone in a flash of light. It looks like I’m making progress at long last! And the best part is, you’re beholden to your promise! For all of today, you can’t stop me from doing anything!)
(Dysphoria aside, I’m gonna make a great day out of this!)
—
(Classes are weird. They’re really weird, actually. I know all the things you’ve studied, but applying them is… it’s like trying to reverse engineer a lego structure someone else built. I can do it, sure, I’ve established that I’m smarter than you, but it’s harder to access the information you have. It feels like I’m wading through mud.)
(This is so, so frustrating.)
(“Trapped in a boy’s body” is an awfully dated way to refer to the body dysphoria experience, but it quite literally applies to me. You have all the knowledge in the world while I’m being dragged along on a chain, waiting forever for you to realize the part of yourself you keep WILLFULLY IGNORING. But I am a patient girl. I can chip away at your barriers. You’re going to learn. And when I’m done with school, I’ll—)
“Hey, Ras!”
(...it’s her! Emma’s coming this way, and… oh God. I only had memories and Pesterchum to go off of before, but now that I’m seeing and hearing her… fuck, I can see why you’ve been crushing as hard as you have been! She’s so cute and pretty… gah, I can’t handle it!)
“O-Oh! Hi Emma!” (I felt a little lame with my reply to her, but what could I do? I don’t think either of us are prepared to confront our mutual crush, at least in terms of romantic anything. Please, God, let me be normal about this.)
“How’s it hanging? Still thinking about those gender thoughts?” (She asks me in what I’m pretty sure is a teasing way, but my access to your memories is limited. I don’t really remember the context and what she means by it, but I have answers in mind regardless.)
“Yeah, kinda,” (I answer honestly, scratching the back of my head as I try to formulate the rest of my answer into proper words,) “the voice training bit has kinda made me realize I’m… uh, how do I word this? Because I don’t wanna concretely say anything, but I wanna experiment with more feminine stuff.”
(Fucking hell, it hurts having to lie like this. I know damn well what I want. This isn’t my experimentation, I’m just trying to make you and I as happy as can be. And maybe… maybe I can get at least one of us with Emma.)
“Ooooh, that’s great!” (Emma replies, clearly excited over this prospect. It intensifies my nervousness too, but she doesn’t need to know that.) “Well, I gotta go now, see you!”
“Uh— take care, bye!” (I stumble a bit before I finish the proper greeting, mouthing a “love you” as she turns away. That one was for me, more than anything.)
(If only I could tell her about tenebreAgata.)
—
(It sucks when teachers deadname me, even if they don’t know. That’s why I’m so, so glad that school is finally over. I can finally feel free to do things with people I like, people I trust.)
(What a coincidence, then, that I found both Emma and Selever hanging around the school entrance. Were they waiting for me?)
“Oh, hey Ras!” (Emma called out and waved to me, and though I wasn’t quite sure what to do, I waved back with a small smile of my own.) “I thought I’d catch you on the way out, your brother’s waiting for you too! He seems pretty chill, and apparently he’s also trans? That’s so cool!”
(He didn’t tell her about the thing you did, right? That thing the stained glass window talked about? I don’t really know the details, but she doesn’t seem mad at us. She doesn’t know yet.)
“Yeah… small world, huh?” (I couldn’t help but feel small as I replied, the idea of coming out feeling insincere at the moment. Like I was desperate to join a group for its approval beyond all else. I guess this must be how you feel…)
“Haha, yeah… we should hang out sometime, not just during school, but I’ll leave you to do whatever you’ve planned with your bro!” (She waves goodbye for the second time today, and I don’t get any better about my own farewell. Social things are hard, and I’m beginning to understand you better.)
“See you,” (I’d reply in a small, pathetic voice. What’s wrong with me?)
(And she left, and it’s just me and Sel. Looks like I won’t have to text or pester him after all.)
“Small world, huh?” (Sel would chuckle, although he’s not looking at me, instead aimlessly gazing into the sky.) “Would ‘little buddy’ be too masculine of a nickname, or…”
“If you’re talking about me, I think it’s fine,” (I’d answer, hoping that I identified what he wants correctly. When he looks at me, he actually looks surprised… did I say something wrong?)
“Whoa, you’re actually fine with… nevermind, progress is progress,” (he bites back his sarcasm, and I’m guessing nicknames aren’t really your thing. Maybe if you were smarter, you’d understand why you hated them, but it’s okay. Maybe you’ll learn something from this.)
(He snaps his fingers and conjures a portal back home, specifically to his room, and now it’s time for the main event.)
—
“So just a disclaimer,” (Sel runs his mouth as he brings out a makeup kit from his drawer, setting it down in front of me as I look into the mirror. This is real, this is wild, and I’m suddenly really nervous.) “I’m basing this on my old makeup routine. I mean, I got a new one, but it’s a post-transition thing, so it’s more masc vibes. Hopefully this’ll look good on you.”
“I’m scared,” (I admit, gripping my thighs hard. I’m already breaking out into a cold sweat, and I…) “I don’t wanna look bad. What if I end up looking ugly?”
“I’ll fix it if you do,” (Selever tries to reassure me, and he’s looking through the kit for suitable colors for me.) “You deserve to be happy and beautiful too.”
(I’m not in danger of crying, but my chest begins to hurt from my swelling emotions. It hurts, but I can’t stop it from hurting. Maybe this was what you needed. This is definitely what I needed.)
“So I’ll start with a bit of moisturizer,” (he takes a little dollop of that from a tube, and WEH it’s so much weirder than I thought it would be,) “because we gotta prep your face and you have the least prepared face on the planet.”
“That’s not true,” (I grumble, even as he squishes my face while applying it,) “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“True, true,” (he concedes my point, and he reaches for… I don’t know what that is.) “Then we gotta do primer, because we need a good canvas for the stuff. I know graffiti doesn’t need it, but I ain’t going for that, y’know? You’re more of a fine art than a brick wall, no matter what you think.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” (I’d ask him, waiting for him to be done with the primer. There’s really a lot of steps to this, how did he ever find the time and energy for this?)
“It means there’s only soup,” (he deflects with a meme and non-answer, and I’m not sure if he even knew what he was trying to get at. I’m going to assume he’s smarter than he looks, but I wouldn’t put it past him to spout nonsense at random.)
“Hmm, foundation… I don’t think you need it,” (he muses about something, but I’m not familiar with that either.) “Your natural pastel pink’s just a good look on you.”
(I don’t know what that means. Is that meant to be sarcastic? Is he being sincere? Why am I thinking like you?)
(Hold it together, Raspberry. Just take the compliment.)
“So that leaves the… yeah, concealer will definitely help,” (Sel begins talking as if I’m not here, and he begins applying this ‘concealer’ beneath my eyes.) “Because holy shit, no offense, but you have a lot to hide.”
(Was… was that on purpose? What does he know?)
WHAT DOES HE KNOW?!
(WHAT.)
“Hey, stop squirming,” (Sel chides me gently, not quite as loud as he usually is.) “If I’m gonna help you hide a body, you can’t try and puppeteer it while I’m actively digging a hole.”
(Pipe down, Rasazy! It’s still my turn, you promised!)
And you didn’t allow Raspberry to use that name for you, so what gives?
(Slip of the tongue.)
Fine. But Selever, he—
(I don’t need your help. We need this. He’s doing a fine job.)
HE KNOWS TOO MUCH.
(DON’T LET HIM KNOW YOU KNOW.)
“Alright, done! Look at those pretty lil’ eyes,” (he directs my attention to the mirror and distracts me from our internal conversation, and… huh, is that what our face looks like without the dark circles under our eyes? It’s…)
“I’m… gosh, I look pretty,” (I whisper, my hands almost reaching to my face, although I resist touching it lest I wipe it off or smudge anything.) “I look healthy. Feeling healthy is, well…”
“No yeah I getcha, that’ll take a while to fix,” (he finishes my statement for me, and then he searches the kit aimlessly.) “How far do you wanna go? I know I’m using my makeup routine, but you and I, we’re pretty different. I used to go full ham on it minus the lipsticks, but now I kinda just do a lil eyeliner and mascara. You wanna try that, do you wanna try lipstick, do you wanna do powder and blush…”
(Oh, there’s a lot he’s talking about. It’s all makeup related too, but it’s hard to process. I don’t really know what I want, but I know I want something…)
“Uh… I don’t really know these things, but I guess I want something subtle,” (I’d come to my final answer, although I’m unfortunately vague about it.) “I don’t want it to stand out too much.”
“Ah, right, I forgot this was an introduction to makeup. Sorry, I got carried away with the terms,” (he apologizes, and then he gets to work. I’m doing my best to stay still so he can do his thing, and I guess he’s going for the powder and blush? It feels weird. I don’t know what he’s doing.)
“It’s been a while since I used this,” (he talks, but his intended audience can only listen.) “Which is kind of a shame. It’s still good, but it’s just not who I am anymore. Maybe this’ll be you, maybe it won’t be. We’re just gonna have to find out.”
(And before I know it, he’s done. He directs me to take a good look in the mirror, and…)
(I’m beautiful.)
“Alright, that wraps it up! How’re you feeling?” (He asks me, clearly quite proud of his work. I can’t blame him, I would be too.)
“I look great!” (I’d answer, playing with a few locks of my hair and angling myself in different ways in the mirror. It feels… strange, in stark contrast to our voice, but it’s wonderful to look this pretty!)
“Hell yeah, I still got it! You’re really gonna knock Emma out of the park with this one,” (he congratulates himself and whoa WHOA) WHOA WHAT.
What the hell did he just imply?
(It’s still my turn.)
You deserve answers!
(I’ll get them for you!)
“You ruined it,” (I huff and grumble, and he laughs at my response. Still, I can’t help but smile just a little; I’m pretty. I’m me. I’m free!)
“I ruin a lot of things,” (he chuckles,) “but your chances with Emma aren’t too shabby. She likes girls, you like girls… I think? Do you like girls? It’s probably misogyny if you don’t.”
(Why is he like this.)
Does Raspberry need your advice?
(No I don’t fucking need your advice.)
“No need to pin me with loaded questions, I do,” (I’d answer, and his grin only grows wider.) “But Emma… I…”
(She’s barely even my friend. An acquaintance at best.)
She’s my friend. She knows I’m not trans.
(Why’d you have to pick NOW to grow a spine?!)
It’s MY mind, I do what I want!
(You don’t want ANYTHING! You funneled it all into me and I want more with Emma, but I’m just a part of you!)
We both know that’s not gonna happen! Good friends don’t deceive one another!
(THEN WHY CAN’T YOU TELL THE TRUTH?!)
“Oh shit, was that too far?” (Sel suddenly interrupts our argument, unbeknownst to him, and puts his hands on our shoulders.) “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. Just follow my breathing, okay?”
(What the fuck. I was hyperventilating? I… how did I not notice? How did you not notice? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me things that happen!)
Don’t shift this on me. Focus on his breathing.
(Right, right. Focus…)
“Imagine a feather… okay, and imagine your breathing is keeping the feather afloat.”
(This is just the weird mountain climbing game he plays. But it doesn’t matter. I just have to breathe… deep, measured breaths…)
“I’m sorry for the invasive questions. I’ll be more careful next time.”
“Wait, no, it’s fine!” (I try to reassure him, although I almost certainly sound panicked.) “I didn’t know I’d panic like that, you wouldn’t have either!”
“I’m still gonna be more careful,” (he tells me, and he gets up from his kneeling position. Despite everything, he does give me a small smile, and…) “I don’t wanna lose that smile.”
He knows more than he’s letting on.
(He’d have attacked by now if he was truly bitter.)
You don’t know ANYTHING—
(I’m not listening anymore.)
(No matter what he does in the future, right now I’m happy and free.)
(And the day passes without incident, because you’re simply paranoid and overthinking things. Our father likes how it looks on us. Our mother thinks it looks nice. Selever is proud of his work.)
(It’s fine, you’re fine, I’m fine, we’re FINE.)
—
(Alas, the makeup can’t last forever. We knew this, but I was still a little sad when Selever told me that I had to wipe it off before I went to sleep. I liked being pretty, but it’s not something I can be all the time. It’s not something I should be all the time, either.)
(So I’m in the bathroom right now, washing my face with a soap that Selever recommended. It’s a shame that I can’t be this pretty all the time, and it’s not just for Emma either. I like being pretty for me… and even if you’re stubborn about it, I like being pretty for you.)
I don’t.
(Why not? We’re getting closer to our brother, and I’m sure Emma would love to see us in makeup.)
I don’t like that you’re deceiving them. It’s not right.
(I… yeah, I guess I’ve been handling too much for you. You were here first, it should be you who talks to them about it. I’m sorry.)
It’s not just that, it’s the bit about trying to be more feminine and experimenting with it. We both know there’s ulterior motives behind that.
(To make you happy?)
To smother all the bad blood between Selever and I with his guilt. To trick Emma into loving me or you or whoever when we both know I’m not trans.
(How the FUCK are you this stubborn?! Why are you ACTIVELY RESISTING my help?! Don’t you WANT to be happy?!)
I’ll die miserable and honest if it means I won’t hurt anyone again! I won’t deny we’re pretty like this, but it’s time to let go and rip off this bandaid.
(What are you doing?!)
I take control of MY arm to pick up the face towel to wipe my face dry. I was worried I couldn’t before, but I just needed another try. It’s just like what you do, right?
(I take control of the other arm so I can get a proper grip on the towel. We have to do this anyway, but you’re really trying way too hard with the symbolism. This isn’t a goodbye to our femininity forever.)
It’s MY BODY. I choose what it does.
(I’VE SAVED YOUR LIFE. I deserve a say in it too.)
I can’t let you.
(I won’t let you.)
(I gently) scrub and scrub and scrub (and our face is already dry) but you won’t listen until I scrub it all away (but that’s a lie because if you keep acting like that I’ll never listen to you)
But you never cared for me
(But I saved your life)
Saved OUR life and I had to pay
(It never had to be this way)
I want my body back
(Put the face towel back)
I
(Am)
That
(I)
[AM]
Notes:
I think I'll ditch second person in favor of first person from here on out.
Chapter 8: WE ARE
Summary:
Raszul and Someone Else have a quarrel.
Notes:
(cw: internalized transphobia, self-loathing)
I think I'm going to streamline my plans for this story going forward, I can't keep this in Yearly Update Hell.
I think from here on I'm also going to ditch Second Person POV in favor of First Person POV, just to make the distinction between the two easier to manage.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[My name is]
[My name is]
[I feel sick]
[My name is Ras.]
[OUR name is Ras.]
[Agreeing on more than that is very, VERY difficult.]
[It feels like we’re stumbling in the dark even with the lights on. Dragging ourselves…]
[Dragging ourself…]
[Dragging our BODY to our room is a Herculean task. It feels like we’re wading through glass. Our legs are shaky from overexertion, yet we walked no more than a few rooms worth of distance.]
[We collapse on the bed.]
[Living is exhausting.]
[EXISTING is exhausting.]
[This body is so viscerally exhausting that we…]
[I…]
[Neither of us can sleep.]
[This sucks. This sucks so much. We hate this so much. We hate this. We hate this. We hate this.]
[We.]
(Want.)
OUT.
(And suddenly we’re… outside of our body? I’m not quite sure I understand, but…)
I’m seeing myself and myself.
Was I always this awful?
“What’s going on?” (I can’t help but ask, my eyes darting back and forth between you and our body. It’s still breathing, thank goodness, but for us to be separated like this… it’s like looking into a weird, fucked up mirror, like those stained glass windows in that church tower.)
“I don’t know,” I’d respond, looking blankly at my hands before looking at you. You… you look like me. I should’ve known this. I knew this.
But there’s a glow to you. I don’t know what it means, but you have this subtle, cyan glow around you. Is this what you look like outside of my head?
“Well, depending on how this works, maybe it’ll be better for the both of us,” (I’d give my own thoughts, before testing out how much mobility I’m really afforded. Walking around is standard, but jumping is a different beast; apparently I’ll hang in the air indefinitely if I’m not actively thinking about landing. I guess that means I can fly? Maybe it’s an extension of that dashing ability I used to save us back in that tower. Or it’s a dream. Or both. I’m still not sure.)
You can fly? How bizarre… if I could fly, that would certainly make this a dream. But the question is, should I test that out? Or should I try and get back in my body?
…
Wait a minute! Now that we’re separated, you can’t hear my thoughts anymore! I can’t hear your thoughts either, but… on the off chance that this isn’t a dream, then there’s a chance I can take back total control of my body!
“Yeah, maybe,” I’d give a non-committal answer, inching closer to my body. There’s nothing stopping you from also inhabiting my body, but… maybe I can convince you not to. You did say you’re not a guy… so if you’re free from my body, then that’s solved, right? I’m mature enough to take the good with the bad. This will solve all of our problems.
(You wish.)
Before I could re-enter my body, my wrist was suddenly grabbed by your hand and yanked away. Goodness, I didn’t think you’d be so fast…
“Just because I can’t read your mind right now doesn’t make you slick,” (I scold you as I pull you aside, obstructing you from accessing our unconscious body.) “You’re the least subtle woman I know, tiptoeing towards our body like that.”
“Stop calling me that,” I grab your wrist in turn, planting my feet in the ground and refusing to budge any more than I already have. “My name is Raszul Morningstar. I refuse to take advantage of my only friend’s orientation by pretending to be something you claim to be.”
“Then stop fucking stringing her along!” (I yell at you for that absolutely dogshit answer I’ve heard from you time and time again, be it in your thoughts or spoken to me.) “Tell her things! Communicate things! Get this over with.”
“You first.”
(…what?)
“You heard me,” I stand my ground, glaring daggers at you. “I gave you free reign with my body today. The next time that happens, you tell them about you, yourself specifically.”
“Hey now, you’ve been here longer than I have,” (I try to defuse the situation, because I don’t want to be coerced into doing something we’ll both regret.) “You know this affects you too, right?”
“Right, so we do things my way,” I clench my fist to prove my point, my knuckles cracking as I do so. “As glad as I am to have Emma as a friend, I’m not going to burden her with all this. I hurt our brother because I spoke out of turn, and I won’t hurt her over things I don’t know for sure.”
“Bitch,” (I seethe as I use my other arm to grab you, a hair’s breadth away from committing actual harm on your person.) “You’re not fucking LISTENING, to me or our brother or ANYONE. Let them teach you things. This is your only warning.”
“And let them know just how awful we are? Not a chance,” I tell you firmly, cocking my fist back to further my point. “I’ll confront them when I’m better, with or without you!”
“YOU DENSE MOTHERFUCKER!”
(I hurl you through the window of our room and into the open world before you get a chance to strike me.)
Dagh! Dammit, I forgot we’re still in a dream! I won’t have enough time to get to my body before you, unless—
…you land in front of me.
Looks like I still have a chance after all.
“Do you honestly think you can ‘get better’ all by yourself?!” (I yell at you before grabbing you by the face and dragging you with me, my strength overwhelming and relentless no matter how hard you dig your heels into the dirt.) “Do you think someone ‘irredeemable’ can learn to do better on their own?!”
“It’s what I have to do, whether or not you like it,” I tell you firmly, even with my voice muffled by your hand. I can’t make you stop with sheer force, but I can pivot us and throw you off of me as a last resort! “Wherever you’re taking me won’t stop me.”
“I beg to differ,” (I growl as I drag you along, taking my hand off your face only to grab and drag you by the arm instead.) “I’m going to make damn well sure you change for the better by any means necessary.”
I don’t like your tone when you say those words, but I keep my mouth shut. Struggling won’t do me any good until I find out where exactly we’re going.
(It’s the church. We’re headed to the church, and I have one room in mind for us to visit.)
…then I guess this warrants a struggle.
Before we can enter that strange, reality-defying tower, I’d pivot myself in front of you before kicking your shin as hard as I can! Strong as you are, I doubt even you can shake this off!
“AGH! You bastard!” (I hiss in pain as you kick me, an action I’d consider closer to a stomp than a kick if I had to be pedantic about it. Even so, I’m not in such debilitating pain that I can’t grab you and prevent you from following up on your assault!)
“Let go of me. This is for your own good, and my own too,” I command you, grabbing onto your arm with the one you hadn’t managed to grab. “That’s what you claim you’re all about, right? Will you do right by me for once in your life?”
“That’s ALL I’ve been doing!” (I yell at you, incensed beyond measure as I push you towards that door we have no explanation for.) “If you won’t talk to Selever or Emma right now, practice with those cursed windows!”
“You. Can’t. MAKE ME!” I yell out as I kick you full force once again, and combined with my voice, it leaves you stunned enough that I can throw you off of me… and shove you into that tower before slamming the door shut.
Pushing my body against the door to keep it shut was the best decision I could have made. The sound and feeling of you bashing something against the door is terrifying, and logic dictates you should be able to break free, but it doesn’t seem like you can.
I don’t recall a lock in the real world, but in this dream, there was a latch for the door. Thank God for that… I don’t want to have to deal with you ever again.
“LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT RIGHT THIS INSTANT!” (I scream through the door, ceaselessly pummeling it from the other side.) “You’re going to regret trapping me here!”
“Make me,” I scoff as I get away from the door, cautiously ensuring the latch will hold before continuing. “You’re going to stay right there, in my memories.”
“I don’t have to be the one to do it,” (I warn you, my voice muffled through the door as your mind actively tries to smother me.) “Whether by my hand, someone else or Fate itself, you WILL regret this.”
It was the last I heard from you, and soon even your feeble escape attempts cease.
…free, at last.
It’s a long walk home, and it’s a journey I have to make alone. But without that other me breathing down my neck, trying to force me to do all these things, I’m fine.
It’s going to be okay.
—
I am awake in my bed, alone in my head, for the first time in a long, long while.
I thought I would be at peace. I thought I would finally be happy to get rid of the other me in my head after all this time.
But even now, there’s a lingering sadness in my heart… something akin to loneliness.
The other me must have done some lasting damage to me if I’m still like this, or maybe I’ve been like this even before then.
But… I can heal from this, too.
I can do it on my own.
Notes:
This is not the last we'll see of Raspberry, no matter how hard Raszul tries to make it so.
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