Day 1: Ritual

May be getting sacrificed on the cross, but at least the religious fanatics are respecting your pronouns!

Day 2: Moonscorch

Abella being transmasc is a headcanon/theory that means so, so much to me, you don't even know

Day 3: Coming Out

Technically, he's genderqueer and pan too, but I don't think he ever really needed to come out about that anyway.

Day 4: Slash

Day 5: Femslash

Ever since Abella started researching ways to get to the moon, she's been dreaming of the gods.

She doesn't trust it, for the most part. The Moon God, Rher, is the God of Insanity. From what O'saa and Marina have told her and what she has read in her own, admittedly limited, studies, Rher is a jealous god who doesn't take kindly to humans trying to reach a status similar to his. Likely, he's also not a fan of Abella trying to reach him, trying to talk to him, trying to understand him.

She doesn't trust her dreams, the way they torment her, the way they try to scare her away from her goal. In the end, they're just dreams. They can't hurt her, however terrifying.

Sometimes, Abella tells herself that the dreams are not a danger because the Moon God is dead, but she's not so certain of that information either. After all, the person who told her that is equally not trustworthy.

Logic smiles as she turns to her. In her dreams, Logic always appears as her human form, once called Reila, once Olivia's sister. But Abella refuses to call her Reila. Abella doesn't think she's been Reila for a long time.

"Stop that," Abella scolds her, sounding far too much like an annoyed sister for something as serious as this.

"I can't help it," Logic says, a giggle decorating her words. "Your brain, the way the little nerves come together and communicate, I can feel it all when I'm in your dreams like this. I know your every thought. It's addicting. I see why Rher liked communicating this way so much."

"If he's dead, then how are you able to abuse his power like this? How is he still able to reach me?" Abella asks.

"Traces," Logic says simply. "Just because something is dead doesn't mean it's gone. And the Old Gods, their power is so easy to use and abuse. The more we develop, the less we go insane, and the more power we can use. And unlike New Gods, it never fades. It just gets more creative. Like this."

Suddenly, the void of Rher's odd, wooden dimension wiggles and warbles. The walls are white, the floor is hard, and Abella and Logic are in the white bunker once more.

Abella glances around, it looking almost exactly like what she remembered. She remembers chasing after Karin, so blinded by a potential scoop that she ran inside without a second thought. She remembers dealing with the Bremen soldier with the torch, scorching half her party. She remembers hoping they'd found a loophole, a way out of here without lasting damage, without dying.

This was just before Levi. Before Marina. Before her.

Abella rubs at her missing leg.

"Rher's dead, but his jealousy is everlasting," Logic continues, and since she can read Abella's brainwaves, Abella knows she's ignoring the pain of her memory. "And his servants are ever fateful."

Abella nods knowingly. Logic is not her only night visitor. Pocketcat, the Lady of Moon, and countless others have reached out to her through her dreams. She's resisted every one of them. It's easy. So easy.

She doesn't understand why Logic isn't as easy as they are.

It's because she makes herself look human, Abella tells herself. She looks so much like Olivia, but also not at all. One would think they were sisters, not twins. And definitely not a god.

Even as the thoughts cross her mind, her eyes wander up Logic's bare legs.

Shit.

Abella steels her face, looking Logic in the too human eye again. If she had noticed Abella lusting after her, and she likely had, she doesn't show it.

"You're strong, though," Logic continues. "Sick of being pushed around. I think we can do it. I think we can make it on the moon."

Abella's eyes narrow at that. "Not 'we'. Me."

Logic sighs, pouting out her bottom lip. She was only twenty years old when she became a god. The memory of this knowledge is just as horrifying as if she had died.

"Abellaaaaaaaa…" Reila whines. "We can do so much together. Aren't you curious? To see what humanity can do when we push technology to its limits? When we mix technology and magic? Wouldn't it be nice to give all of humanity the power of the gods?"

"It would be nice," Abella says, her "Oldest Sister Is Talking Now" voice slipping out. "And I would like to see it as me. Not as an extension of you."

"But Abella—"

"Go ask your sister if you need more people in your 'mindspace' or whatever that bad," Abella cuts in once more, and that earns a huff.

"I already have. She's refused." Logic's head rolls to the side, as if she lost the ability to use her neck anymore. She ragdolls it over to Abella's shoulder, leans against it. "She said she won't live in my shadow anymore. Says she's her own person now. I have to admit, I'm kind of proud of her." She straightens her head, leaning her chin on Abella's shoulder now as she looks Abella in the eye.

She's so…close.

"But you, Abella, you have a need for people. You have a need to help." Logic's mouth curves into a manic smile. "This can help everyone. Sure, maybe you can do it on your own. But you would do it so much faster with me. After the moon, who knows what could be next. Another planet? The stars themselves? Who knows how many other gods are out there, how much more magic is out there. We could find it, me and you. We could change more than the world, more than humanity. We could change the universe. We could change what it means to be a god."

Abella is only half-listening. She has no interest in magic and gods and couldn't care less about finding more. She just wants to understand why she went through what she went through, why fourteen strangers were ever pitted against each other in the first place, why people became monsters, why the gods played so much with humans, why the Termina event happened three times in Prehevil alone, why, why, why, why.

But she's entranced by Logic's words, the way her mouth moves, the way the corners of her lips rise higher and higher as she goes on. Abella had heard so much about Reila from so many people. She had been curious about her, chasing after her desperately in Termina, the way a girl did with a rabbit in a storybook she read once. Not just for answers, but with a deep desire to know her.

Once again, Logic giggles. "Is that the only way I'll be able to break to you?"

Abella frowns, unsure of her meaning. By the time she remembers that Logic can essentially read her mind, Logic has pressed her lips against Abella's.

"Maybe it's not Rher's magic I should be siphoning," Logic mutters against Abella's lips. Her hands slip under Abella's white T-shirt, exploring up her sides. They fumble a bit, clearly expecting a bra, but Abella never wears one. "Maybe it's Sylvian's. Will you merge with me that way? If we enacted a marriage ritual? Then will you allow our brains to become one?"

Abella's brain is swarming with this bizarre change of events. Reila's hand are distracting as they flutter up and down her sides. She tries to take in her words, dangerous, yet appetizing.

It's just a dream. Dreams can't actually hurt her.

But can they pleasure her?

"Let's find out," Reila grins, and she brings a hand to Abella's breast, flicking the nipple.

Abella gasps, then bites down her lip.

"Stop that," she says.

"But you don't want me to."

Stupid Logic and her stupid ability to read her mind. No, Abella doesn't want her to stop, but she can't do this. Not just because she doesn't want to do any ritual with Logic, not just because she wants to stay as her own, not part of Logic's network.

But also because…even though Abella has reconciled with the fact that she prefers women over men for a long time, she never actually let herself indulge on it. Never kissed a woman, never laid with one, never even flirted with one. She's passed lesbian bars knowing she could never enter one. She has her career, and her family who would never understand. She's already strange enough, constantly wearing men's clothes, in a men's career. The last thing she wants to hear from her loved ones is "Oh, of course…We should have known…."

"Don't worry about that," Reila says, purring almost. Both of her hands are on Abella's breasts now, massaging them. The feeling is foreign, but…welcome. Reila pushes Abella down, ever so slowly, so that she's hovering over her. "It's just a dream, like you said. You're not really being pleasured by a woman. You're being pleasured by a god."

Abella's shirt is now up, her breasts exposed to the fake bunker air. She takes a deep breath as her hands grip Logic's wrists.

"I'm not becoming one with you," Abella says, staring hard into Logic's eyes.

Logic smiles, and Abella can't tell if it's kind or not. "That's all right. You have plenty of time to think about it." She leans in close, her lips ghosting over Abella's once more. "But now I'm kind of curious, aren't you? Don't you want to know what sex with a god is like?"

Conflicting thoughts and feelings battle each other in Abella's mind, and she knows Logic is giddily watching all of it. Maybe it even gets her off. She doesn't really know who Logic is, never really knew who Reila was.

It's a trick, a ploy, a way for Logic to get what she wants, more minds for her ever growing network.

But it's also a dream. And dreams bring no harm.

Her grip on Reila's wrists tighten and she flips them, her being over the latter. She wobbles slightly on her only leg, but quickly regains her balance. She's had a year to get used to being monofooted; she knows how to balance on one knee.

Abella's unsure what to start with first, but her shirt is already half-off. Why not remove it completely? She leans back to a sitting position and quickly yanks it off, tossing it aside. Reila stares at Abella's chest, making her uncomfortable. She's always been self-conscious about her breasts, wishing they were smaller, flatter. They're not as big as Karin's, but still too big for her liking. If she had the choice, she would have had them removed completely.

But Reila tilts her head at them, giving a dazed sigh.

"You know," she starts, "I don't think I ever liked men. They were just a way to get me where I needed to go. A way to be where important things were happening. I've slept with all kinds of men and always felt…nothing. But this," she sighs again, "is beautiful."

Abella's face heats up and she knows she's probably as red as her hair. She's not used to this kind of attention. Not from women. Not from anyone was pretty as her.

Reila's hands reach up and start massaging Abella's breasts once again. Instead of pushing away, Abella leans into it, allowing her moans to escape as Reila pinches and twists her nipples.

"Come down here," Reila says. "Kiss me."

Abella obliges. She leans down over her, her lips pressing against Reila's, feeling so, so human. Abella risks letting her tongue dart out, flicking over Reila's lips, and she eagerly opens her mouth to accept.

God or woman, the taste of her tongue is divine.

Reila squeezes Abella's chest, pulling it up towards her face. Abella breaks away from the kiss, confused, but not for long. She crawls forward, her right nipple hanging over Reila's mouth. Reila raises her head and snaps it easily, biting and sucking.

Abella lets out a sharp shriek, before biting her lip to silence herself, embarrassed by the sound. But, oh…the way she chews on her skin, suckling her breast as if she needs it more than the air itself, it feels so exquisite.

Reila goes between Abella's two nipples like that for a while, but Abella starts to grow restless, wanting to know the answer to the question she's been curious about for ages.

What does a woman's cunt taste like?

Abella pulls herself away, wishing she wasn't so attracted to the line of spit that connects her chest to Reila's lips. She reaches lower, lower, lower, until she's at Reila's skirt. She pushes it up, slow, scared, but excited. Soon, the skirt of Reila's dress is gathered at her abdomen and Abella stares at her welcoming vagina, no underwear in sight.

Abella's eyebrows raise as she looks at Reila, who only smirks.

"You don't seduce men in power by wearing panties," she says simply.

Is that true of Reila? Did she get where she needed to be by selling herself to men again and again? Or is that a lie for Abella to get closer to her, to become so attracted that she can no longer resist becoming one with her?

Abella has no way of knowing, and right now, she doesn't care. Right now, all she wants is to finally have the dream she's been repressing for years.

She brings up an experimental finger and flicks at the nub. The action doesn't make Reila moan, but laugh.

"Stop being shy," she says, then, in a lower, seductive tone. "Just do it."

Just do it, she says. Fine. Abella will.

She lowers her face, burying herself into the pubic hair of Reila Haas. Before starting to lick, she allows herself one, long sniff, the musk making her dizzy. Just one more. She takes another sniff, bigger, far more audible, leaning her nose in. She doesn't think she could ever get enough.

She leans the lower half of her face in and finally lets her tongue dart out, tasting Reila's juices. Once she starts, she can't stop, her tongue lapping desperately at the cunt, her face quickly getting soaked.

Now, Reila moans, her body convulsing as her legs spread open, as her hands grip Abella's hair, pushing her deeper.

As Abella continues to feast, soon, she feels…jolts. Little jolts of electricity, coming from Reila's pussy and traveling up Abella's tongue and down her spine. Abella glances up, curious of Reila's face.

But she's not Reila. She's Logic. Her hair is long and pink again, that manic smile on her again.

"This can be us every day," she says, her hands in Abella's hair suddenly feeling more like handcuffs. "This can be us forever. Constant knowledge, constant improvement, constant pleasure. Don't you want it?"

Abella continues licking, because what else can she do? She's trapped between Logic's electric cunt and her hands. Except, is she really? Abella hadn't actually tried to break away. She's unsure if she wants to. Despite the new, electric shocks of pain, she finds them more addicting than heroin.

So she keeps going, faster, harder, Logic bucking her hips into Abella's face, making demands, promises, wishes, predictions, doing anything to convince Abella to become a part of her, doing anything to make Abella think everything she wants will come from her.

But for a god called Logic, she's a fool. Abella already got what she wanted from her.

Logic lets out a strained, electric scream. Abella feels the moisture shoot onto her face, but darkness flickers against her eyes, almost as if the power in the bunker is going out. Soon, everything goes dark and quiet…

---

Abella wakes with a start. She sits up, bewildered by her dream.

Her dream…

Her face is moist, soaked even. No…was it not a dream after all?

Wait. Abella lays a hand on her pillow, also wet.

She slept with her mouth open again. Damn allergies.

Abella sighs as she glances at her alarm clock. It's only one in the morning. There's a lesbian bar around here that stays open until four.

This can be us every day, Logic had said, trying to make Abella believe the only way she could be who she is is with her. But Abella doesn't need her. She's not just a sister, not a mother, and not some random body in a god's network.

She is Abella, and she is a lesbian.

And she can fuck any woman that she fucking wants.

…If they consent, of course.

Abella attaches her fake metal leg that she made herself and hops out of bed, dressing quickly in a suit, one that keeps her breasts flat, and pins her hair up so that it's easily hidden under a hat. Stepping quietly so that she doesn't wake Henryk, her roommate since her grad school days, she steps out into the night, strolling over to the lesbian bar. And she will think hard of all the women she sees there, if only so that Logic can tell that she does not own her.

Day 6: PreTermina

The sound and feel of the brush is soothing and depressing, like hearing a dying person singing their last lullaby.

Marina stares in the mirror, wondering how her reflection can look so calm when so much is changing so fast. The acceptance letter is still on her dresser, a ray of hope and fear.

Her mother sits behind her, her smile seeming to get bigger with each brush in her curls.

"I'm so proud of you," she says, her voice low. She's told Marina this so many times over her childhood. Usually, it fills Marina with her own pride, but now, she has nothing but fear.

"You're going to be so much happier in Vatican City, I know it," her mother continues, reaching forward to brush the scalp behind Marina's ear. "You'll have no naggy parents to tell you what to do. You're going to make so many new friends. You'll be happy, Marina, finally."

"I'm happy now," Marina says. This isn't just a way to soothe her mother, who often worries that she's doing something wrong with her schooling or upbringing. She is actually happy here. She has her friends and her favorite stores and her clothes.

She has so many clothes.

So many pretty dresses and skirts.

Her mother sets down the brush and brings her fingers to Marina's hair, performing a Rondon Braid on the side that she had just brushed. When she finishes, she goes to the other side and does the same.

"You'll be happier, though," her mother stresses. "Because you'll be free to do whatever you want." She brings the two braids together and ties them in the back with a ribbon. With a sly smile, she lowers her voice even further.

"You won't even have to dress like this anymore."

At this, Marina's heart hammers, that one worry that keeps beating against her skull, that one change that she desperately does not want.

But her reflection still shows calm peace, so her mother continues: "You can cut your hair and won't have to worry about how to style it anymore. You can get a girlfriend. You can completely disappear, never come here again, and live a normal life, finally."

The silence signifies Marina's turn to answer, but she doesn't know what to say. Her mother is so excited for her. Would it be okay to shatter that?

"What is it, dear?" Her mother leans forward and kisses her cheek, before smiling at her reflection. "You look worried."

She does? To Marina, she looks the same, completely calm and still. But some mothers know how to read deeper into their children, and Marina has one of them.

Marina's eyes dart away from the reflection, facing the floor instead.

"Would you be mad," she says, "if I didn't disappear? If I stayed as…Marina? If I decided that I like being a girl and always have, would you be disappointed?"

Her mother had hidden the fact that Marina was not born a girl from everyone, even her father. Only one other person knows of Marina's sex, and that was her great aunt who helped birth her, and even she has passed away, now. Marina only learned that she wasn't like other children when she saw one of her childhood friends try to pee in a lake, like her older brother. She looked different down there, not having a penis like everyone else did. Or at least, Marina had thought everyone else had a penis. When she asked her mother about it later, her mother made her promise to never tell anyone about her own penis. She sat her down, explained the difference between boys' bodies and girls' bodies.

"So if I have a boy's body, why am I a girl?" Marina had asked.

"Because it keeps you safe," her mother responded.

As Marina aged, she realized that it was always the plan for her to eventually leave Prehevil, away from these dangerous rituals and abusive priests.

It was always the plan for her to eventually become a boy.

But she doesn't want to! She has so many gorgeous outfits she'd have to give up, and her hair is pretty, sometimes seeming like it changes colors, and it's perfect at this length! She likes her name, Marina, and doesn't want to think of a boy's name. She likes being a girl! She doesn't want to be a boy. She thinks even if she had been raised as a boy, she would have eventually become a girl anyway…

Two arms wrap around Marina and her mother holds her tight against her chest.

"Marina Domek," she says into her ear. "I homeschooled you because I wanted you to have freedom. I wanted you to choose what to do with your life, not your father. I wanted you to not be a victim of a cycle—any cycle." Her mother cups Marina's cheek, turning her so that she's facing her. "If you want to stay as a girl, you do it. You do what you want to do, for now on and forever, okay? Don't worry about my feelings or your father's feelings or anyone. It is your life and you choose how to live it. Do you understand?"

Marina swallows. She feels like she could cry of relief, but her tears fail to escape her, so she just nods her head.

"Yes, Mother. I understand."

"Is it true?"

Marina and her mother whirl around to see Father in the doorway. Her mother breaks away from her, the absence of her presence immediately cold.

"I thought you were leading a class at the orphanage," her mother says. Marina doesn't know how her voice doesn't shake. This is their worst fear realized. If anyone needed to never know of Marina's sex, it was her father.

"I thought we had a daughter. I suppose we were both wrong."

"You do have a daughter," her mother stresses. "You always have and you always will—"

"Lying wench!"

Father stomps over, grabbing her mother's arm and harshly pulling her forward.

"Do you know how this will look to the public?! The laughing stock I'll become?! The power I'll lose?!"

Despite the vulnerable position, her mother laughs.

"Oh? You mean worse than how your daughter, homeschooled by me, was able to get into a prestigious school, unlike any of your wretched little students? They will laugh, but not for reasons you think. 'Thank goodness the mother did what she did!' they'll say! 'The father would have ruined the girl's chances!'"

Father raises a hand, and that's when Marina breaks out of her stupor and rushes forward.

"No, Father!" she cries, reaching up to grab his wrist. She holds it tightly to her chest, both a desperate plea and an attempt to save her mother. "Don't hurt Mother, please! I like being a girl, so I'll stay as one. No one will know. No one will laugh at you."

"I'll know!" Father tosses Marina off his arm and she goes flying, hitting against her bedroom wall. Mother rushes to her side, quickly checking for injuries. "And now I also know you actually like the existence you have. If this should get out—"

"Will you stop thinking of yourself for once?" Mother spits out at him through gritted teeth. "Who cares what should happen if it she should be discovered? She'll be all the way in Vatican City, anyway. Once she moves, it will be like she doesn't exist here. Nothing will happen to your precious image."

"And hers?" Father asks. "Have you not thought of that? How you doomed her to lie for the rest of her life? How you groomed her into liking what you forced her to be?"

"You mean like you do to all the rest of the children in this damn city?!"

"I would have been like this anyway." This comes from Marina. She sits up, a fleeting thought wondering if she has a concussion, but that's of no importance right now. Instead, she looks her father in the eye. "No matter what Mother did, I would have chosen to be like this anyway. Is that enough, Father? Is that enough to make you hate me instead of her?"

For a moment, Father stares at her, his fist tightening. But just when she thinks he may come to hit her, he stomps away. She and her mother listen until they hear the slam of the front door.

As soon as it's safe, Mother takes Marina in her arms, her hand running through Marina's now mussed hair.

"I'm sorry…" She says it over and over again. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I should have never—I'm sorry."

Marina lays quiet in her mother's arms. She wants to fight against her, to tell her that she has nothing to apologize for. Whether it's for not protecting Marina against her father or for the idea that her mother forced ideas onto Marina, it's nothing she has to apologize for. Mother only did what she thought would protect Marina. She knows this. And she truly believes it wouldn't have mattered, that she would have become this way anyway.

If anything, had she been raised the way her father wanted, she would have had to hide herself and be ashamed of any thoughts that she could be a woman.

But she knows Mother won't listen to her now. Parents, even good ones, have the habit of not listening to their children at times. So Marina leans into her mother, going to sleep to the sound of her apologies.

---

"Promise to write to me lots and lots. Tell me of all of your classes, your friends, oh! and the stores! Every single one, even the bad ones with clothes that itch. I don't want to miss a minute."

"Yes, Mother," Marina laughs. She and her mother and father stand at the train station, her holding on to the suitcase with everything she's taking to college. The finality of it feels heavy. As she looks at her parents, she can see that both are telling her the same thing with her eyes: Don't come back. But each with different reason.

She takes a good long look, hit with the realization this may be the last time she sees her parents ever again.

Passengers are called for the train and Marina heart does a nervous leap, too ready and not ready enough.

Mother gives her one last hug. "Goodbye! Good luck! I'll miss you so much!"

As she pulls away, Marina gives a questioning look to her father. He hasn't said one word, but he's here to see her off. That means something, yes?

Father stares at her and just as she wonders if he won't say anything, he says: "I wish you good luck…"

Marina chances a smile. She can't remember the last time she's received a kind word from her father! She almost goes to give him a hug as well, but he continues:

"…son."

A sharp knife to the heart isn't enough to describe the pain of betrayal Marina feels. Is that all he'll choose to see from now on? Not who she is, but who she was supposed to be—no, who he wanted her to be?

It shouldn't matter. She'll never see him again. It shouldn't matter.

Even so, she feels the sting of tears as she jerks away from him, going to the train without a goodbye.

She's seated on the side that gives her a view of the platform. She tries to fight it, but she turns her head and looks out the window, at her parents one last time.

Her mother and father are arguing. Of course they are. That's all they ever do.

But then Father raises his hand and hits Mother with the back of his hand.

Marina's eyes widen and she thinks about getting off the train to stop him, but it's already moving and, soon, they're already gone.

Marina makes her decision then: She has to get her mother out of there. Someway, somehow, she has to find the money so that they can live together, outside of Prehevil, away from their backwards methods and Father's abuse. If she doesn't…Marina fears something bad will truly happen.

But one thing is for certain. She's not giving up any part of herself for anyone. She'll only be who she wants to be and not what anyone else wants of her.

Especially not her father.