Apr 22, 2025
Too late for Trans Visibility Day, too early for Pride Month... Been meaning to make a trans pride art thingy for the boyo Robyn :)
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Too late for Trans Visibility Day, too early for Pride Month... Been meaning to make a trans pride art thingy for the boyo Robyn :)
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nightmare.
The woman was a tall and gangling smear of gray on Robyn’s wallpaper. She knew that it was impossible for a ghost to get into her room -- she had wards and enchantments all over -- which meant this had to be a dream. Ghosts only sent her dreams when things were really dire, so the thought wasn’t very comforting at all. When the ghost woman noticed that Robyn was looking, she held out her hands, begging for -- something. She opened her mouth, but instead of speaking, blood poured from her gray mouth in a shocking, vibrant red, mixed with another strange color (the color of magic -- the realization was there and gone). The woman’s already distorted form began to melt in on itself, eyes running like eggs, her mouth gaping wider and wider in an impossible, silent scream. The room around her began to melt, too -- familiar walls being replaced by tall shelves and the smell of old books, and then --
She was in her bedroom -- really in her bedroom -- tangled in her bedsheets, trapped. “No! No!” Jumbled thoughts -- she was a witch that was a witch and she was killed killed by by by -- were shocked out of her along with most of her breath as she rolled out of bed, landing heavily on the floor, still half in the melting dream world, still expecting to see the gray woman with blood and (magic) something pouring from her, leaving her empty (it was a warning).
Robyn, ever the optimist, checked the elevator when she got to her apartment complex. It had broken a month ago, and it didn’t seem like anyone planned on fixing it anytime soon, but she still hoped that one day she’d come home to see the “out of order” sign removed. Today was not that day, and she resigned herself to walking up six flights of stairs to her floor. Since she walked or rode her bike to work most days, she wasn’t out of shape by any means, but she still found herself panting slightly by the time she finally got to her door.
“Hey, Z, you home?” She called into the apartment as she stepped in, shedding her jacket and hanging it on the hook by the door. Zarya was usually home before her on Mondays, but she supposed the other girl could have plans or something that she didn’t know about. She couldn’t remember that ever happening, but there was a first time for everything.