the story breaks free here

Back in 2013-2015 I wrote a metric fuckton of fanfiction for The Newsroom because I like one type of man and it's a middle aged petty bitch with therapist certified Daddy Issues and pathological self-denial. So my wife read my fic, liked it, and started following me on tumblr. We had vaguely known of each other before then, because we've both been in the same circles since joining tumblr and being active on tumblr as Sansa Stark fans in the dark ages that was season two of Game of Thrones. We didn't interact until 2014 and honestly probably didn't become mutuals until the next year and didn't really become friends until we had both long moved into The 100 fandom and were like, the two people aboard the Clarke/Roan dinghy in 2017. From there we started to become friends.

And honestly? It took us a really long time to become friends. There was no magical moment where we became insta-BFFs or where we knew the other person was going to eventually become the person we would fall into a natural orbit with. She had just moved to South Carolina, was broke, and was working on overcoming a lot of trauma. And I was broke in NYC, working on overcoming a lot of trauma, and going through drug and alcohol related struggles of my own. We weren't ready or capable of the kind of emotional intimacy and trust that we share now. We'd chat on the brand new tumblr messenger and occasionally she'd help me with a fic. Then in 2018, she came to BookCon in NYC and I missed being able to meet up with her because I was busy with a museum gala and didn't get the tumblr notifications for her messages letting me know she was coming to the city -- so I insisted we move our conversation to facebook messenger so I wouldn't miss a message from her ever again.

And, like the useless lesbians who had done a lot of therapy and DBT workbooks that we were, didn't realize we had both set our facebook settings so that only friends of friends could send us friend requests and just assumed the other person was holding the silent boundary that they didn't want to be friends on facebook. And we wanted to respect those absolutely not true boundaries.

But we talked. Constantly. All day. Still about fandom, mostly, and fanfiction, but real life started leaking in. I had stopped doing drugs but was still struggling with binge drinking. Her mom died when she was in college and had a brand new stepmom. We had some shared childhood traumas. Through the lens of fiction we talked about what kind of relationships we wanted for ourselves, if we wanted to be mothers, what kind of mothers we wanted to be. Our relationships with sex. Our relationships with food. Our definitions of the word "family." Our experiences with religion. Our careers. Our intentions for our lives. How we expressed and wanted to be loved. How we both felt we could never go home again. How we both know how it feels when calamity comes, and you know your life will never been the same again. I dragged her into professional wrestling. She dragged me into being a person capable of communicating her emotions and wants and needs. Her dog died. Another nephew I would never meet was born. Eventually we both realized we wanted to be facebook friends but were both desperately trying to respect the other person's boundaries.

By November 2018, we looked back and realized we had essentially been in a long distance relationship for six months. In May 2019, I moved down to South Carolina to be with her because I couldn't imagine putting myself on a plane back to LaGuardia ever again. We got legally married two weeks later due to fears that if one of us got hit by a bus, we wouldn't be able to visit each other in the hospital or make healthcare decisions. Neither of us could stomach letting my family run the show if I died.

We've known each other for almost ten years now. We've been together for almost four. Married since 2019 and are going to finally have a wedding this December after postponing it twice.

The fic that made her think I was the kind of person she could marry? Paterfamilias, written and posted in the fall of 2014 as I was getting a C-PTSD diagnosis after finally disclosing to a therapist the abuse I endured as a child.

And now she gets all the fic spoilers and to read everything I write long before everyone else does, which she assures me is the fic reader's dream. You can follow her at @echrai.

anyway, real ones know i have the exact same kind of infertility that i gave mackenzie mchale in fanfiction OVER A DECADE AGO

So far, we're okay! We're a little south of Charlotte and so for now, far enough from the fires that we're safe. But thank you for thinking of us!!

it's been a hot minute since i posted here with a life update, mostly because things have been Not Great

i officially have an infertility diagnosis. i got referred to a reproductive endocrinologist (aka A Fertility Clinic) in january, and have undergone a lot of testing in a few months. the upside: we have answers as to why i've been having recurring miscarriages.

it's most likely endometriosis. my mother had it; she had a hysterectomy at 35, three years older than i am now. they won't know for certain until they open me up, in april. i have surgery booked with one of the best endometriosis specialists in the region.

the downside: the reason they're so certain it's endometriosis is because i have hydrosalpinx, which essentially means one of my fallopian tubes has been blocked at the end and blown up like a balloon by scar tissue and endometriosis and adhesions. the surgeon will try to repair the tube, but most likely it's coming out. one of my ovaries is double the mass of the other, also not a great sign.

i've been going to a gyn since i was 14. i've been complaining about my period cramps and symptons since then. i have never been taken seriously before now - before having three miscarriages back to back to back.

and like, i'm as fine as i can be. i'm not going to pretend it's been easy, but it's not a great personal tragedy. i'm privileged enough to have a good job and good health insurance. i'm privileged enough to work somewhere supportive. i'm privileged enough to have access to self-care and travel and a solid local village. i'll get the surgery. we'll continue with fertility testing and treatments. i have a son. i have nibling. i have children in my life who i love beyond measure. i am a mother, an aunt, a friend.

it just sucks.

OKAY BUT LIKE??? I HAD THE SAME THOUGHTS

I really did make it, life is so weird and wonderful

That's me! Every once in a while I muster up enough brain cells to open photoshop.

I always am, providing the question isn't triggering to me. (And I'll just ignore it if it is, since my triggers aren't like, posted publicly.)

Most of the BDSM in my writing comes from my own sex life.

I am not control of what or when I write, lol. If I was I would have been published by now.

(Not a no, just busy and constantly existing by my own creative whims.)

I hope you're feeling better!

For real though, Mac exists to be whumped and if Sorkin wasn't gonna do it correctly, I was!!

Yes yes, you are the smartest anon in the room for coming into my askbox to fact check me about a post I wrote *checks notes* eleven years ago when I was 21, specifically about something I was taught in an intro pysch class *checks notes* thirteen years ago when I was 19.

We are all so so impressed.

It's my 14 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

you, your wife who you met on tumblr, and your adopted trans son who you kept in contact with through anon tumblr asks when his bioparents lied good enough to cps to get them to drop the case. the strangers on the internet you were warned about.

four miscarriages in I am really shaking my fist at every accidental pregnancy storyline I've ever written

I'm not giving up, and neither are you. There's too much out waiting for us. Within us, too. Let's walk into it together. Hope is a metaphor for a thousand little choices, a house that we build together. We choose who we build it with.

we're on season seven of our household's Perpetual West Wing Rewatch and I keep thinking about how in a universe where John Spencer wasn't taken from us and Leo and Annabeth got together, everything they'd probably be accused of being by the press due to the age gap (kinky, tawdry, selling column inches at the barest allusion of a sex scandal) is all shit we've seen Jed and Abbey get away with all series and in fact Leo is the perfect gentleman who would horrified at the insinuation of an office blowjob