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thechangeling · 3 years

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Tell me a story

Ty doesn't believe in fate.

A shout out to @ilikebooks8 for convincing me to make a fanfic about autistic!Eleanor Blackthorn. Autism is genetic so it makes sense for Ty to have autistic ancestors. If you are autistic I guarentee you have someone in your family who is also autistic they just haven't been diagnosed yet. For me, I've got my dad.

Cw: mentions of ableism, abuse and the death of a minor character. Very anti Andrew Blackthorn.

"Tell me a story," Tiberius' asked, in that mature, matter- of-fact way he spoke. Ty was only eight but already he sounded like a boy twice his age in terms of his vocabulary and the way he spoke.

Although he still had the voice of a child which was rather amusing. Eleanor turned to face her son with a groan as she felt searing pain shoot through her bones. She had been laying down all day due to feeling extremely unwell. The noises and lights of the outside world were especially brutal, but she had gotten used to it overtime. She had learned to cope. To smile and nod and make eye contact. To control her movements and still her hands and laugh at their jokes.

Eleanor played the part of the proper shadowhunter and the dutiful wife, the attentive mother. It didn't matter that it had changed her. Had completely turned her into a different person, someone harsher and colder. Someone who was so quick to anger and venomous hatred.

Someone who only knew how to be in pain.

She always tried to not let that side of her show to her children. They didn't deserve it. But the past few weeks in particular had been brutal. Her body felt broken and it was becoming harder and harder to put up that facade.

She faced Ty with the best fake smile she could muster. "Which story would you like to hear?" He climbed up on the bed beside her and sat down in an odd twisted position where his legs were in a W position. He began tapping his hands on his knees as he appeared to contemplate his choices.

Eleanor could remember a time when she was younger when she used to do that. Before her parents had stopped her. She knew she should really tell Tiberius off to discourage him from doing these things in public. He was so blatent and open in a way that frightened and almost angered her. There was no telling what kind of reaction The Clave might have.

She didnt want him to end up with the dregs, or worse.

"I don't know," Ty said finally scrunching up his eyebrows. "I can't think of one right now. Could you make one up?" Eleanor smiled in spite of herself. She had always loved making up stories ever since she was a kid. She had always been a creative person, painting and drawing as often as she could. Shadowhunters didn't really appreciate a creative streak.

Eleanor nodded. "Ok sure, let's see." She took a breath, trying to ignore the agony spreading through her back and shoulders. "Once upon a time there was a prince who was trapped in a tower that was guarded by an evil ogar. The prince had been rumored to have special powers so he was forced by his parents to stay locked away in the tower forever to keep him safe. He wasnt allowed to make friends with any other children so he grew up alone. Teaching himself how to read and write and playing games to amuse himself."

Ty rolled his eyes. "Isn't that rather cliche? The whole prince trapped in a tower story? I've definitely heard that before."

Eleanor laughed. "Where did you hear the word cliche Tiberius?" Ty shrugged, not seeing the amusement in the situation.

"It was in a book. Can you keep going?" He whined impatiently. "I wanna hear the rest."

Eleanor sighed, shaking her head good naturedly. "Alright then. So the prince was trapped for a very long time. Then one day a mysterious adventurer came exploring nearby the tower."

"Can it be a detective?" Ty interrupted, bouncing up and down. He had been obsessed with Clue lately.

"Alright sure, it was a detective. He was searching the answers to a murder mystery. The murder of a young women." Ty instantly looked interested. Perhaps murder was not the best subject for a story being told to an eight year old, but Ty was a shadowhunter. They were trained to deal with blood and death.

"His was searching for information and came across the tower," she continued. So he decided to investigate. He snuck passed the ogar and into the tower, where he was ambushed by the prince!"

Ty gasped excitedly, wriggling in place. "What happened next? Did they fight?"

Eleanor opened her mouth to continue, but then the bedroom door flew open, startling them both.

It was Andrew. Instantly Ty shrunk himself down, hunching his shoulders. Eleanor knew that Ty didn't always get along with his father but she knew Andrew still loved him deep down. He glared at them both.

"Ty your mother is meant to be resting," he said pointedly.

Eleanor shook her head. "Oh no it's alright. He wasn't bothering me." Andrew didn't seem to hear her.

"Tiberius let's go," he said harshly. Ty hesitated for a moment, looking up at her.

"But I wanna hear the rest of the story!" He protested. "I wanna know what happens to the prince!" Eleanor sighed solemnly. She didn't want to disappoint Ty, but she was feeling pretty worn out.

"Another time baby," she assured him. "I promise."

But unfortunately she never got the chance. She never got the chance because little did they know, Eleanor Blackthorn had cancer. Something that silent brothers couldn't cure. Something that shadowhunters were powerless against.

"What are you thinking about ?" Kit murmered from his spot curled up against Ty's chest. His breath tickled Ty's chin.

Ty paused, not quite sure how to answer. They were lying on the roof of the LA institute again. It was their special spot. Kit had suggested a night of star gazing for a date since the weather was nice.

Things has been a little weird between them lately. Kit had been pretending that everything was fine and he was unfazed, but Ty could tell that something was bothering him. And he had a feeling he knew what it was.

At Magnus and Alec's anniversary party, Jace made a joke about how Kit and Ty would probably be the next ones to get married and Ty immediately went into a blind panic. He completely froze up at the mention of marriage. At the mention of him getting married. His body instantly went into a complete overload almost as if he was on the verge of a meltdown.

He didn't take the time to think about any of it. He just snapped and yelled that he wasn't getting married. That he wasn't ever getting married. Ty wasnt even sure where it came from. Kit was pretending like it wasnt a big deal but Ty knew he was hurting. He could tell.

Ty traced a pattern across Kit's arm. "Honestly it was nothing," he assured him. "I just-." Ty stared at Kit, studying his face. The curve of his lips, the adorable blush of his cheeks and the tiny beauty mark under his eye that Ty loved to fixate on. Everything ached, but it was a good kind of ache.

Ty loved him.

"I just want to stay like this forever," he murmered. "Here with you, where I feel safe and warm. And loved." Ty nuzzled his nose against Kit's. "I want to be with you forever."

Kit smiled distantly before breaking into a slight frown. "Then why don't you wanna marry me?" He asked sadly. And Ty could instantly hear the old ghosts of self loathing and insecurity still haunting Kit's thoughts.

Ty sighed. "It has nothing to do with you I promise. I just really don't want to get married and I'm not even fully certain of why exactly."

Kit stroked his cheek slowly. "Is it the idea of a big wedding? Because we don't have to do that you know. We can totally just skip it," he said assuredly.

Ty shook his head. "That's part of it but it isn't the only reason." He paused to contemplate what exactly it was that was making him feel this way, feel so afraid.

Strangely enough, Ty kept coming back to his mother. His mother who was always a little peculiar in private. Who always seemed sad and exhausted even before the silent brothers diagnosed her. Who was constantly going along with whatever her husband wanted for whatever reason. Because she assumed he knew what he was doing? Because she didn't want to make waves in a society so rigid and obsessed with conformity?

Ty had been considering it more and more lately.

He sat up, displacing Kit from where he was resting. "I think my mother was like me," Ty admitted in a shakey voice. "I think she was autistic and that's why she ended up in the situations she did."

"Ok?" Kit looked confused. "But that still doesn't explain-."

Ty interrupted him. "She was trying so hard to fit in and do the right thing and she would just let him control her. She kept compromising for him because she thought that's what she was supposed to do and also because despite it all I think she really loved him! And it made her so stupid!" Ty shouted.

"I just don't want to become trapped like that," he confessed.

Kit was silent for a moment, just staring at him with a puzzled expression. "Ok, but Ty you realize that I'm not your dad right? Like I would never try and control you or make you into something you're not. I'm not trying to own you, I'm trying to love you!" He argued. "Ty, marriage isnt supposed to trap you. It's about making our relationship into an Offical legal thing that everyone's forced to acknowledge and accept."

Kit took Ty's hand in his. "It's about making each other family."

Ty looked away. He couldn't meet Kit's eyes when he was staring at him looking so hopeful and desperate. It did strange things to Ty's insides. He squeezed his eyes shut, scrunching up his face along with his fists for a moment before letting go.

"I just don't want to let someone have power over me in that way," he explained. Kit sighed, then smiled softly before leaning forward to rest his forehead against Ty's. Ty let out a little moan as he let the tension release from his body with a sigh. Kit placed his hand over Ty's heart.

"But don't you get it Ty?" He asked softly. "You already have, whether you meant to or not. I'm in your system sweetheart, in your blood just like you're in mine." Ty felt him smile. "Like we were made for each other. Like we've spent our entire lives waiting for each other."

Ty pulled away from him. "No I don't believe that," he stated firmly. "I don't believe in fate or destiny or soulmates. I think it's an overt romanticization of life and the human condition which can have disastrous consequences. It leads people to believe that they are somehow incomplete without a romantic partner which is incredibly problematic." Ty realized he was probably going on a bit of a tangent as he was known to do. But he couldn't be bothered to care.

Kit pouted a little. "Yeah I get that. But I don't know. I like to romanticize things in life. After everything that I've been through, I guess it just makes things feel better you know?" Kit glanced at him hopefully."I don't care if you don't believe in any of those things. I do. And despite what you might believe, you aren't always right about everything," Kit said pointedly.

Ty scowled at him. Kit was undeterred. "And I get that you're coming at this from a scary trauma place. I understand that. I have those too. But you don't have to be afraid of me," he pleaded.

Ty couldn't resist reaching out and touching him, pushing a curly lock of hair behind his ear. "Can I maybe think about it?" Kit smiled and snuggled up against Ty's chest again. "Of course," he murmered. Ty leaned back and resumed his earlier position, staring up at the sky.

He nuzzled his face against Kit's hair. "I'm glad you're not mad at me anymore," said Ty.

Kit snorted, turning to face Ty. "I'm never mad at you love. It's pretty much impossible." Ty grinned and leaned forward to kiss him slowly, savoring the feeling of Kit's lips against his.

Kit broke off and kissed Ty's cheek, then his orbital bone. Ty giggled and closed his eyes which prompted Kit to place a kiss on each of his eyelids.

"I love every inch of you," Kit whispered. Ty couldn't speak. He was too overwhelmed. He just wrapped his arms around Kit even tighter and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

They lay in peaceful silence for several moments before Kit spoke.

"Tell me a story."

In case you missed it, the story Eleanor was telling Ty is the story of kitty in Lady Midnight basically. Also. Not me projecting my fear of marriage onto my comfort character! 😂

Tag list: (lmk if you wanna be added/removed) @playwithravenclaw @lavender-scented-rat @knifescythe @ti-bae-rius @dianasarrow @jazzkaurtheglorious @waterlillies @zfoxdraws @julieandthefandoms @older-brother-kit @ilikebooks8 @nott-the-best @stxr-thxif @magnus-the-fabulous-entp-bane @foxglove-airmid @littlx-songbxrd @heloisacosta23 @adoravel-fenomeno @eutonyinwhisper

#tsc #tda #the dark artifices #kit x ty #twp #cw mentions of ableism #cw mentions of abuse #cw minor character death #tiberius nero blackthorn #kit herondale #eleanor blackthorn

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normal-thoughts-official · 3 years

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Do u think Alec and raphael would have good relationship on the show after the finale? You have good metas about Raphael and I wanted to ask do you think Alec punching him was justified? Or could be redeemed?

ive talked about the punching before and i think the punching... was definitely not in any way justified, it wasn't rapha's fault, it was IZZY who fucking roped him into addiction not the other way around lol. but also alec didnt know that so i kinda get why he did it cuz that's his little sister and at the end of the day if you see your little sibling in a situation where it looks like they're being hurt it's punch first ask questions later

at the same time, i cant pretend racism didnt have something to do with his immediate assumption that it was rapha's fault (both because he's a vampire and because he's latino and of course latinos are All Predatory Sexy Drug Dealers) despite the fact that rapha wasn't hurting izzy at all. but there was also a lot of context that would point in that direction cuz he knew izzy was suffering because of addiction and that she was roped into it and then he saw a vampire feeding on her so like. i wouldnt ask questions either y'know?

so like alec definitely wasn't right about it and it wasn't justified but i don't exactly fault him for it either. i fault the writing for never questioning the whole "rapha was the one who roped izzy into it" narrative or the punch, and for having MAGNUS of all people be judgemental or rapha. magnus who knew rapha back when he was addicted. magnus who helped him recover. magnus who KNEW he had been clean for decades and how hard he worked towards that. magnus who knows rapha's heart better than anyone and knows how much he cares and that he'd never ever do this... just fucking assumed it was rapha's fault. bullshit. sorry that's just complete and utter bullcrap

so i don't find the writing redeemable but i do think the punch is something they could have worked out, if alec apologized to him and said that it wasn't his fault and they actually talked about it. but that would have to happen, you know? it cant just be like, we move on now. especially because obviously a part of rapha blames himself for the yin fen thing which is INSANE. izzy was the one who triggered and used him, not the other way around. that couldnt have been more obvious, its not debatable and the only reason ppl even entertain the idea that rapha was at fault is racism

and like look izzy is not a monster or whatever she was literally desperate enough to put her life on the line for vampire venom (like when she showed up at the den) but that doesnt make it any less true that she triggered rapha's addiction on purpose several times. the circumstances make it not be Pure Evil on her part, but they dont make it any less awful for raphael. and while i still mostly like izzy and think she's "redeemable", i fully understand those who don't and even agree with their reasoning honestly, especially because sh never acknowledged her fucked up actions and the fandom treats that plotline in a completely izzy-centric way despite the fact that rapha was in a way, WAY worse position than her

and i only find her redeemable assuming that she 1- took the full fault for what happened; 2- apologized to rapha; 3- tried to make things right. not in a catholic Feeling Guilty way but as in like trying to help raphael way - like finding him a support group for example. which is what i hc happened in my version of sh where things make sense and the writing isn't racist shit

anyway anyway. yes i could see alec and rapha working it out. i can't really see a close relationship, tho. first, because at the end of the day alec is on izzy's side first and foremost even if he's willing to admit she was at fault, and while i think that obviously rapha has forgiven her and they have like, positive feelings for each other, distance between him and izzy is not only present but good for them both and especially for rapha. so i can't see them being close. beyond that, i don't see much rapha and alec have in common besides loving magnus with their whole hearts and being autistic

i guess they have similar senses of humor so i could see them having some whispered conversations where they roast the attendees at a clave event or something, but they dont last long and mostly rapha is focused on, you know, his friends, partners, family, his clan. and i also think it would take rapha a loooong time to fully trust alec with magnus, because well... alec did fuck up plenty of times lmao and rapha knows better than anyone that as good intentioned as the lightwoods may be they have a lot of potential to really fucking hurt downworlders, and he's seen it happen to magnus already. but also alec does have magnus' happiness as his first priority and more and more so as time goes by, so i think eventually hed grow to trust alec. he was obviously happy at their wedding and he knew how much that meant for him, so

so i think they'd have, like. a neutral-to-positive relationship with each other (especially as time goes by and rapha begins to trust alec more and the yin fen thing feels less raw) and might even team up and trust each other to have their backs in battle and stuff like that, but i cant really see them being super close. but like thats okay and it works, and besides, neither of them would want to have magnus choose, so they interact with each other just fine and as long as magnus is happy, theyre happy, really

#addiction tw #racism tw #anti izzy lightwood #cursed yin fen plotline #ask #anonymous #sh #raphael santiago #anti rizzy

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echo-bleu · 3 years

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jump and hope it’s not a cliff

Summary: Five times Alec and Magnus come out, and one time they come home.

“I’m gay,” he blurts out.

Some part of him still expects it to be earth-shattering, but it’s not. It’s almost nothing, just a word, a single syllable that falls out of his lips easily. It doesn’t suddenly make everything click into place, or scramble his whole being.

It’s just a fact.

Malec, about coming out and pride and supporting each other.

A/N: This is set in the same universe as map out a world and there are a few callbacks, but this should easily stand on its own. Alec is autistic, and everything else is mostly like canon, except that I stretched out the timeline. Part 1 to 3 are set somewhere during season 2, 4 during season 3 and the last two at some point in the future. The title is a quote from Red, White and Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston (thank you Cor for the suggestion).

A huge thank you to the amazing @moonlight-breeze-44 who did a great job betaing this and cheering me on, as well as all the wonderful people in the Malec Discord Server for helping me come up with some of these scenes and being super supportive. This fic was truly a work of love and it's very close to my heart, so it's a little daunting to finally post it!

Warnings: part 5 contains a transphobic character who says very transphobic things. You might want to skip that part if it's a sensitive subject. The rest contains mentions of (mostly past) queerphobia and ableism, but it's all fairly light.

Read on AO3.

Alec can’t remember a specific moment when they came out to each other. He remembers Magnus openly flirting with him — right in front of his siblings, too, and Alec is just embarrassed by how utterly clueless he was, though Magnus seems to think it was adorable — and his own clumsy attempts at flirting back, once he got over his confusion. But he doesn’t remember ever saying “I’m gay.”

He’s not sure he’s ever said it out loud, to anyone, like the word is heavy and draining and it’s something best left half-implied, a whisper of a suspicion rather than a hard fact; despite the evidence. Alec is attracted to men — is attracted to Magnus, really, because besides his mistaken infatuation with Jace, he’s never felt that pull for anyone else — but he doesn’t speak of it. Magnus just seemed to know, just like Izzy did, just like Jace did, or maybe he took a leap of faith and he’s really good at appearing more confident than he actually is.

What he does remember is skimming through Magnus’ Clave file, that day before they went to meet him at his club, and the leap his heart made when he read about Magnus’ well known “proclivities” towards lovers of all genders. It was followed by fear and disgust, because of course the Clave would write this down as proof of Magnus’ untrustworthiness and dangerous behavior. Alec was dangerously close to thinking that way, back then, too terrified of people finding out about him to fully question what he’d been taught to believe. He tucked the information into a corner of his mind, and he’d be hard-pressed to tell if it influenced his first impression of Magnus and how.

They’ve been dating for over two months now, and they’ve never spoken about it. They’ve never spoken about Alec’s very public coming out to the Clave beyond agreeing to a date. They’ve discussed past relationships — or lack thereof — and the political issues that come with a Shadowhunter dating a Downworlder, especially as they’re both prominent figures in the city, but they’ve never spoken of themselves or the couple they form in terms of queerness.

And now, staring at the rainbow cover of the new book in Magnus’ hands, Alec wonders why.

He shakes himself out of his thoughts and finishes hanging his jacket on the coat rack as Magnus puts down the book and stands up with a wide smile. They’ve decided on a quiet night in tonight — dinner and a movie — after a week that has been horrendously long for both of them. Unresolved issues are piling up at the Institute, but right now Alec just wants to relax and enjoy his boyfriend.

Boyfriend. He’s still getting used to that. He thought for so long that he could never have any of the things that so many people take for granted, and feeling for someone what he feels for Magnus, having it reciprocated, seemed the most unattainable of them all.

“You seem distracted,” Magnus remarks after a moment of silence in their dinner.

Alec looks up guiltily and stills his fingers, which have been tapping a discreet rhythm on his thigh. “Sorry,” he says, sheepish. “I didn’t mean to zone out.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“You,” Alec admits — it’s not a hardship to admit it at all. He spends most of the time that isn’t directly taken up by Institute business thinking about Magnus, in one form or another. He worries, often, that maybe it’s too much, that Magnus is going to find him too intense, but so far Magnus just preens at the attention.

“I’m flattered,” Magnus quips. “Anything specific?”

Alec’s eyes fall on the rainbow book on the coffee table again, across the room. It’s a book about queer history or something similar, something he hasn’t seen Magnus read about before. It’s flashy and mundane and distracting. There’s a strange tug in Alec’s stomach at just seeing a rainbow here, in Magnus’ living space, a fear that shouldn’t be there anymore.

“I’m gay,” he blurts out.

It’s just a fact.

“Okay,” Magnus says slowly, frowning a little like he can tell he’s missing something. “I already knew that, Alexander.”

Alec runs his thumb down the fabric of his jeans and works his jaw. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m not sure I did.”

Magnus frowns further, uncomprehending, then his face lights up. “You’ve never actually said it, have you? If you came out at the wedding—” he waves a hand.

“That wasn’t planned, and my parents aren’t exactly interested in talking about it,” Alec says. “I kinda feel like I used you, actually. We weren’t even dating or anything, and there’s a gap between flirting with me and kissing me in front of the entire Institute.”

Magnus shakes his head. “I was surprised, but I’ve never been shy or particularly closeted, if that’s what you mean. And I was definitely hoping that you’d call off the wedding. It was a hell of a way to come out, though.”

“It sure didn’t help my standing with the Clave,” Alec mutters. “Or my relationship with my parents. But I don’t regret it. I regret not really giving you a choice, though. Even if you’re not in the closet, I know the Institute doesn’t represent something positive for you, and publicly being with a Shadowhunter can’t be good for your reputation.”

“My reputation has been through much worse than this,” Magnus reassures him. “But I appreciate your concern. And I promise you I was a willing participant.”

Alec nods in acceptance and eats a few more bites of his risotto. Like everything Magnus conjures, it’s delicious. They eat in silence for a moment, but Alec feels Magnus’ gaze on him, intense but somehow not heavy.

“I’m bisexual,” Magnus finally says. “I’ve used many labels over the years, some whose meaning is very different now, and often no labels at all, but that’s the one I like best.”

Alec carefully commits the information to memory and looks up to meet his eyes, to show that he’s listening.

“Did you always know?” he asks. “Even when you had no words for it?”

Magnus takes a moment to think about it. “I think so,” he answers. “It was always a part of me, like my magic or my eyes. I didn’t always accept it, but I knew.”

Alec nods, feeling like he can’t relate to that certainty. Clarity isn’t something he’s ever had about himself, about anything. Whether it’s about his sexuality, or his aspirations, or even who he is as a person, it’s always been muddled. The identities his parents and the Clave tried to impose on him, Shadowhunter and Lightwood and soldier, have never felt quite right, like he doesn’t fit into the boxes he desperately tries to hide in, but neither have the labels he’s come across since, not really.

“I’m gay,” he murmurs to himself again. He’s not sure it feels right. Maybe he just needs to get used to it, after years of not daring to apply the word to himself. Maybe it’s really just a word, and its power drained out with the need to hide. Alec shakes his head. It’s better than anything else. It’s enough. It has to be, right?

Magnus claps his hands once, making a bowl of popcorn appear on his knees. “Here,” he says. “The real movie night experience.”

He had been horrified to learn that Alec has never done that before. His siblings have sneaked out to go to the movies with their teenage dates, but Alec was always the good son, and the Institute only has one TV in the break room that is certainly not casually watched by the Head of the Institute, which Alec has functionally been since he was sixteen.

Magnus doesn’t count the few classic movies Alec watched on his own on his laptop in the safety of his room as a real movie night experience. Movie night is, by definition, something you do with others.

He passes the bowl of popcorn to Alec, taking a few pieces with his other hand and popping them into his mouth. They’re sitting side by side on the couch in his living room, rearranged for the occasion. Magnus has pushed aside the two armchairs that usually occupy the other side of the coffee table in favor of a huge wide screen TV, which is currently displaying the opening scene of The Fellowship of the Ring.

“Why does it include popcorn?” Alec frowns, taking a few from the bowl and passing it back. He’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, a fluffy pillow on his lap and his new tangle toy in his hand. He’s very recently started to loosen up around the loft and actually make himself comfortable, rather than constantly staying straight-backed and tense, and Magnus never tires of watching him stim and relax.

Magnus puts his feet up on the coffee table. “It’s tradition, Alexander!”

“Aren’t you way older than the invention of the cinema?”

“Come on, movie night is something you’re supposed to enjoy, not question,” Magnus says. “Shh, I love this bit,” he adds when Gandalf makes his entrance.

Alec huffs and sits back, but there’s a smile on his face, and he’s almost close enough that their thighs touch. Magnus lets him take the first step, knowing that Alec doesn’t always handle touch well, but by the time Frodo sets out of the Shire, Alec has sought out Magnus’ free hand and interlaced it with his own.

He listens amusedly to Magnus commenting on every moment of the movie, marveling at the landscapes and critiquing the largest departures from the books, which Alec hasn’t even read. He doesn’t say anything beyond making some noises at the right places, up until the first sword fights.

“But you can’t hold a sword that way!” he protests. “His posture is all wrong!”

Magnus holds back a laugh. “It’s a movie, darling. Cinematic aestheticism is more important than realism.”

“But this is wrong! How can anyone not see it?”

Magnus keeps it to himself that he definitely didn’t, in spite of his rather extensive training. His martial arts knowledge is very different from Alec’s sword-fighting techniques. “Just relax and let yourself enjoy it,” he says, squeezing Alec’s hand.

By the time they get to the Moria fight, Alec is leaning forward to watch more closely and sputtering. “That’s not how you hold a bow!”

Magnus shrugs. “He looks rather dashing while doing it, so who cares?”

“Who cares? I care! This doesn’t make any sense! Don’t these actors have a modicum of training?”

“I’m sure they do,” Magnus says. Alec’s indignation is rather hilarious, even if it doesn’t let him truly enjoy the movie. His purpose was to show it to Alec, anyway, not to watch it himself. Watching Alec’s reactions is endearing and more fun than the movie itself. “But they’re thinking more about making it look good than realistic. And they’re all really hot doing it, which doesn’t hurt.”

Alec blinks at that and tilts his head. “You think they’re hot?”

Magnus turns his head toward him in surprise. “Don’t you?”

Is Alec jealous? It doesn’t seem to fit with his character, not over such a small thing, but Magnus doesn’t know everything about him yet.

“I don’t know, I guess?” Alec shrugs. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

Magnus opens his mouth and closes it. He pauses the movie, and Alec frowns in surprise. “Alec, do you...who do you think is hot?”

“I, uh,” Alec hesitates. “I don’t know. Why is that important?”

“It’s not, necessarily, but most people don’t say ‘I guess’ when asked if someone is hot or sexy. You can have a type, but—” Magnus gestures in frustration, struggling to explain. “It’s something you see right away.”

Alec stares at him for a moment, lost. “I don’t… I’m not sure I understand. I mean, you’re beautiful. You’re hot, I suppose. Them—” he gestures at the TV. “I don’t know them.”

Magnus carefully doesn’t let the ‘I suppose’ hurt — he knows Alec doesn’t mean it the way it sounds. He smiles at the compliment, instead. “So you need to know someone to appreciate their sexiness?” he asks.

Alec takes a moment to think about it. “You’re the only one I’ve really thought of as sexy,” he says slowly. “And even then...it’s not something I’d think unprompted? It’s just not important to me, I suppose.”

“Alexander, are you asexual?” Magnus asks slowly.

For a moment, Alec looks like a fish out of water. He opens his mouth and closes it several times, searching for his words. He’s twisting his stim toy more and more nervously, so Magnus releases his hand to let him stim freely, putting his own hand on Alec’s thigh instead. Alec flinches away, though, so he lets him go.

“I don’t know,” Alec finally says. “Maybe? What if I am?”

“There’s a bunch of different identities under the asexual umbrella,” Magnus says. “It doesn’t have to be all or nothing.”

Alec freezes for a second, then squeezes his tangle toy hard in his hand. “Is it a problem? If I’m completely asexual?”

“No, of course not,” Magnus says hurriedly. “You’re wonderful the way you are.”

“Then why is it important?”

“For us?” Magnus checks. Alec nods without looking in his direction. “It just means that we need to talk about boundaries a little more than I’m used to. I want to do that with you, anyway, but maybe we should dig deeper than I anticipated.”

Alec nods tightly. “Okay.” He doesn’t sound like he really believes it.

“Alexander, I don’t know what you’ve been told, but it doesn’t make you lesser, or broken, if you don’t feel attraction to people. It’s just different. Some people are straight, some are gay, or bi, or something else. Some are ace.”

“But I’m gay,” Alec says.

It dawns on Magnus then. Of course, in the homophobic environment Alec grew up in, he would have defined a large part of his identity through his gayness, even before he was fully aware of it. Now that he’s come out, there are likely people at the Institute or even the Clave who only think of him as “the gay one”. Or “the gay one who is shagging a Downworlder,” probably, but Magnus doesn’t want to open that particular can of worms tonight.

“It doesn’t make you any less gay,” he says. “You can be asexual and homoromantic. Or gray-asexual or demisexual and still sexually attracted to men.”

“I think I’m attracted to you,” Alec says quietly. “I mean, sexually. I know I want to kiss you and date you, but I think I also want to have sex with you.” He’s red as a brick wall by the end of his sentence, but he bravely plows through, his voice even quieter. “I don’t think I was sexually attracted to Jace.”

Magnus nods as neutrally as he can. “And other people?”

Alec just shakes his head.

“Even romantically?”

He shakes his head again, his cheeks even redder. He’s started stimming again, so fast that his hands are a blur.

Magnus refrains from telling him that he feels giddy about being so special for Alec, because this isn’t something Alec chose. He doesn’t try to touch him, even though he wants to reach out. “So you’ve only been romantically attracted to people you already knew?”

“I don’t know,” Alec shrugs. “I didn’t really know you?”

“When did you start feeling attraction for me?”

Alec bites his lip, thinking. “I liked that you paid attention to me. No one gives me a second look, usually, unless I’m giving out orders. Jace and Izzy are easier to...approach, I guess. But I didn’t feel like...like you said, losing my breath and all that, until later. The day you said that, actually.”

“So you did know me by then,” Magnus says, trying to keep his voice neutral.

“Were you attracted to me from the beginning?” Alec asks hesitantly, like he’s not sure he wants to know the answer.

“Yes,” Magnus admits easily. “But attraction isn’t something you have to act on. I liked what I saw as soon as I laid eyes on you, but then I learned to appreciate you. Your personality, your sense of humor, your loyalty to your siblings. That’s not just attraction. That’s falling in love.”

“And asexuals can do that?”

“Some of them can, some of them can’t. Some want to and some don’t. There’s no one-size-fits-all with this.”

“So what am I?”

Magnus takes a breath, trying to figure out what Alec really needs to hear. Does he need a label? Or just reassurance? He decides to go for the option that feels the least patronizing and tries to answer his actual question. “You can correct me if I’m wrong, but I think that what you’re describing is demisexuality, and maybe also demi-romanticism. It means you need to know someone, to have an emotional connection to them, before you feel attraction. But you could also say that you’re gray-ace and gray-romantic, since you don’t experience attraction often or in the same way as most people, but you do have some attraction.”

Alec nods throughout, his eyes boring a hole into the TV he’s staring at with intense focus. Magnus can even see him mouth some of the words, trying them out. “I think that sounds right,” he says slowly. “I don’t know, I need to think about it more, but it’s a start.”

“You don’t need to settle on a label tonight,” Magnus tells him.

Alec swallows. “No, I know, but...you deserve to know. Even if you’re amazingly tolerant, you deserve to know what you’re getting into.”

Magnus closes his eyes briefly. “No, Alexander,” he says, pained. “Your identities are yours and yours alone, and you don’t need to put words on them for me. I’m not being tolerant; I love you for who you are, and anyone who can’t accept you, all of you, doesn’t deserve the time of the day. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Alec breathes out through his nose and stills his hands for long enough to look in Magnus’ direction. “Okay,” he murmurs with a tiny smile. He reaches out and takes Magnus’ hand in his. “I love you too.”

“Mister Bane, please refrain from interrupting me in the future.”

Magnus sighs. The meeting has been going on forever, and the President of the Spiral Council, a warlock older than himself but disliked by nearly the entire community, is being downright insulting by refusing to call him by his rightful title of High Warlock. He feels the usual prickle of his skin at the address, at the way she insists on the Mister.

“My apologies,” he relents, all energy to argue drained out of him. He’s been fighting her on this matter — a change in the interrogation protocols for the warlocks captured by Valentine, ultimately a waste of resources — for three hours, and he’s done. He glares at the assembled warlocks around the table, who all agree with him but don’t have the guts to speak up. Why does he always have to do all the work?

He sits through the rest of the meeting without saying a word, resolutely ignoring the constant taunts from the President. She’s not worth his time. Not if no one will back him up.

Magnus is tired and more than a little upset when he makes it back to his loft. Minor inconveniences are piling up to make today one of the worst days of work he’s had in awhile. At least Alec will be here tonight, on his night off from patrol.

Magnus magically summons the few bills that have been left in his mundane mailbox downstairs at the same time as he takes off his jacket and haphazardly throws it on the floor of his bedroom. His heart constricts a little more at the sight of the address, Mister Magnus Bane. He doesn’t want to deal with this today, but he can’t seem to escape it.

He banishes the bills and changes his outfit to a silk robe with a snap of his fingers. There, better. At least now he’s comfortable.

Sighing, he sits down at his makeup console. He looks at himself critically for a moment. He went overboard with the makeup this morning, and the heavy, dark eyeshadow that he thought made him look mysterious now just seems to carve in his eye sockets, and he looks gaunt instead. He makes it disappear, leaving only the light eyeliner lines.

He woke up with a strong need to shave off his goatee, along with most of the hair on his body. He goes through one of these phases every now and then. He would usually do it straight away, but this time, he hesitated. What will Alec think, if he comes over tonight and finds Magnus smooth-skinned, not only his face but also his chest and legs?

Sure, Magnus could technically magic back the hair as soon as Alec gets here, but it doesn’t feel right.

“Everything okay?”

Magnus starts and almost falls off of his chair in surprise. Alec is standing at the door of his bedroom, in his socks. In his distraction, Magnus somehow missed him passing his wards, coming through the front door and removing his shoes.

“Fine,” he says. “Just a frustrating day. But you’re here now.”

Alec smiles. “I am. We can just chill out in bed, if you’re tired.”

“What about dinner?”

“I could do dinner in bed,” Alec shrugs. “I’ve been on my feet all day and most of last night. If I had my way, I wouldn’t move from bed for at least two days.”

“I could arrange that,” Magnus quips. He knows Alec would never go for it — for all that he says that, he’ll still be up at six on the dot tomorrow and unable to go back to bed. So Magnus has to take advantage of him while he’s here.

Snapping his fingers, he conjures a tray filled with Chinese food from a take-out place he knows Alec likes. “Dinner in bed it is,” he says.

“See, that’s why you’re my favorite man,” Alec smiles.

Magnus flinches. An actual, full-body flinch. He tries to cover it up by standing up, but Alec immediately spreads his arms to show his harmlessness, hunching over like he’s trying to make himself shorter. “I said something wrong,” he says.

“No, it’s fine, Alexander,” Magnus waves his hand, annoyed at himself.

“Please, Magnus. I can see it. You don’t have to tell me, but it would be better so I don’t do it again.”

“It’s just…” Magnus trails off, hesitating. He’s been putting off coming out to Alec, and he doesn’t know why. Or rather, he does know, but his fears are barely rational. Alec has taken him in stride so far, barely batting an eye, even at Magnus’ more extravagant habits. He had a truly amazing reaction to seeing Magnus’ warlock mark. So why would this be any different?

No, Alec won’t react badly. But if Magnus comes out now, it will become a thing. They’ll have to talk about it, explain, like every time he tells someone, and it will be weird for days. Magnus is tired. Tired of not being able to be who he is without everyone else forcing him into boxes he doesn’t fit in.

He’s tired and he doesn’t want to explain, but he also wants Alec to know. He wants him to know why words that seem perfectly normal and safe to Alec sometimes feel like a knife to Magnus’ back. He wants to be able to make jokes about his gender and have them understood. He wants to wake up next to Alec and know that his partner knows and respects him for who he is, fully.

He takes a deep breath. “I’m not a man. I’m nonbinary.”

Alec doesn’t move. His eyes widen a little, but he doesn’t turn away from Magnus, keeping his gaze somewhere around Magnus’ mouth as usual. Magnus can almost see the wheels turning in his head as he tries to decide what to answer with.

“Okay,” he says slowly. “I don’t...I think I know what the word means, but I don’t know a lot about it. Do you want to tell me what it means to you or do you want me to research it first?” His gaze trails toward the bookshelf Magnus has put together of books on queer theory.

Magnus gapes, because this is so far from any reaction he expected that it didn’t even come to his mind as an option. “I—” he stammers. “I will tell you, but I’m too tired tonight. And maybe you could...read a couple things first? Would that be okay?”

“That’s why I offered,” Alec says, with a relieved smile.

“You’re amazing, Alexander. You know that?”

Alec grins, with that tiny frown that says he wants to refute it but knows Magnus won’t hear of it if he does. He still can’t take a compliment — he can’t, Magnus has come to learn, think of himself positively without remembering every time he’s been put down and belittled by the people who should have lifted him up. Magnus just pats his shoulder. “How about we go to bed? Tomorrow, we can talk.”

Alec nods, and Magnus realizes that he’s looking forward to it, to telling Alec about himself.

When Magnus wakes up the next morning, which is their day off — Magnus has adapted his own schedule to match Alec’s whenever possible — Alec isn’t in bed next to him. Magnus finds him in the main room, sitting crossed-legged in an armchair with his laptop on his lap, a full breakfast ready on the table. He’s obviously been up for a while, if he’s had time to prepare all that on top of his morning run and stretching routine.

“Hey,” he gives Magnus a wide smile.

“Did I oversleep?” Magnus asks. He’s definitely less of an early-riser than Alec, who tends to wake up with the sun whenever he hasn’t been on the night shift, but he’s usually awake by the time Alec comes back from his run.

“There’s no such thing on a day off, but I think you were tired,” Alec answers. “I’ve been up for three hours.”

“Oh my,” Magnus murmurs, checking the time with a wave of his hand. To his relief — and amusement — it’s only eight-thirty, definitely not that late by his standards. “What have you done with all this time?”

“Research,” Alec waves to the books on the coffee table in front of him, which Magnus only now notices. They’re from his LGBT+ book collection, and definitely his top choices for learning about gender identities. “I’m learning a lot.”

“Let me shower and we can talk about it,” Magnus decides, his body tensing with excitement and a touch of apprehension.

“Breakfast is ready when you are,” Alec smiles reassuringly.

He’s just serving coffee when Magnus comes out of the shower. Magnus hasn’t bothered to get dressed or do his makeup yet, avoiding his mirrors — which isn’t the easiest feat in his bathroom, which has no less than two full-length mirrors beside the one above the sink — because he’s not sure what he wants to look like today. His goatee still itches on his chin, but he needs to get a feel for Alec’s reaction before he goes ahead and shaves it.

He forbids himself from pulling at his facial hair and grabs his mug of coffee instead, hissing when it nearly burns his hand. “Hey, you okay?” Alec asks, his voice quiet and concerned.

“I’m fine, Alexander,” Magnus makes himself smile. There’s no reason for this to go badly. Last night, even though Alec didn’t know much, was already affirming and relieving.

The concern is always there, especially given the culture Alec comes from, but Magnus has seen Alec fight hard against his own racism and internalized homophobia, and more recently his internalized ableism — and Alec is someone who doesn’t relent until he makes things right. Especially when he’s the one who made mistakes. It’s going to be okay.

“Tell me what you need,” Alec says, meeting his eyes — something he only does when he wants to show Magnus his support, explicitly and deliberately.

“Ask me?” Magnus tries. He hates feeling this vulnerable. “Ask me whatever questions you have, without beating around the bush.” Don’t make it awkward and painful, please.

“Alright, I can do that,” Alec smiles softly, and Magnus melts a little, like every time Alec looks at him like that. He takes a sip of his coffee. “So, I’ve read that there are a lot of different nonbinary identities. Do you use any of those labels for yourself? If you want to tell me.”

Magnus swallows in gratefulness. “I don’t, not really,” he replies. “Most of those labels are very recent, and they don’t really match with how I’ve learned to think about myself. Even nonbinary doesn’t feel exactly right, even if I fit the definition. But I use it because it’s rare for me to feel part of a community, of a group of people who share that with me.”

Alec nods thoughtfully. “I think I can relate with that,” he says. “The community thing, I mean. I’ve never actually thought about my gender, not beyond where it relates to my sexuality, but I guess not needing to think about it is a good sign that I’m cis.”

“Probably,” Magnus shrugs. “Does it feel strange for you? Realizing that you’re not really dating a man?”

Alec takes the time to think about it, though he never completely looks away. “No,” he says finally. “I won’t lie, maybe a few months ago it would have, because...I fought against my own gayness so much that when I finally accepted it, I needed it to be clear-cut. But I don’t feel like that anymore. If I learned something about identities and labels, it’s that they shouldn’t be boxes where you have to cut off parts of yourself to fit inside. I love you. I’m gay. You’re nonbinary. Those don’t have to be mutually exclusive.”

Magnus needs a few long seconds before he remembers how to breathe. “They don’t,” he murmurs when he can finally speak again. Alec isn’t usually eloquent, but he has a knack for finding exactly the right words sometimes. And surprising Magnus, every day.

“Yesterday, you reacted when I called you a man,” Alec says slowly. “I’m probably going to slip up a few times until I get used to it, but can you tell me how you want me to speak of you? What words I should use?”

“Yesterday I was irritated and dysphoric,” Magnus replies. “It usually isn’t a problem. I don’t love those words and I’d prefer to avoid them when it’s just us, but socially, I’ve been taken for a man for so long… I can’t say it doesn’t bother me, but I’m not sure I can really imagine anything else. Sure, I’ve had fun glamouring myself into something more feminine, or cultivating an androgynous style at different times, but I’m still...I’m more comfortable being seen as a man than as a woman. Warlocks are sometimes seen as sexless by mortals, like Seelies, because our customs are so different, and I’ve always played with those perceptions.”

“Your name is masculine, right?”

Magnus shrugs. “Yes and no. It uses the masculine marker in Latin, but Latin was a language with grammatical gender. There are masculine words referencing females, and the other way around. And it’s a dead language, anyway. It was dead before I was born. I don’t think of my name as masculine.”

“Then, that’s what’s important,” Alec says. “What about pronouns?”

“I’ve used many different pronouns in many different languages,” Magnus answers. “I’ve always been partial to languages with no gendered pronouns like Turkish, but I really don’t care. He/him pronouns don’t make me feel bad, and I’m used to them.”

“There are languages with no gendered pronouns?” Alec asks, fascinated.

“A number of them,” Magnus says. “We really need to travel more. But to go back to your question, maybe in a few years or decades, I’ll be more comfortable with the new gender-neutral pronouns in English like they/them, but it takes me a while to get used to new things. So he/him is fine for now.”

“Okay,” Alec nods. “What about...we’ve been calling each other boyfriends. Would you rather I use something else?”

Magnus laughs, relief finally washing over him. He was tenser than he realized, and it makes him feel like jelly, suddenly. “No, Alexander. Hearing you calling me your boyfriend is far too endearing to change that. Please keep doing it.”

Alec’s face illuminates with a wide smile. “My nonbinary boyfriend,” he says playfully. “I know we’ve only barely scratched the surface, but is there something else I should know right now?”

Magnus runs a few things through his head, deciding to keep them for later — he’s very curious, and not all that apprehensive anymore, of what Alec’s reaction to him in feminine lingerie might be — and strokes his chin. “Oh,” comes the illumination. “I really want to shave my face right now. It’s been too long since I last did that.”

“Okay,” Alec says. “That’s a gender thing?”

“Sometimes facial hair feels dysphoric,” Magnus replies. “Like today. Sometimes I just want to look different.”

“I love both looks,” Alec says. “I love all of your looks. I love how I never know what you’re going to go for in the morning.”

Magnus starts eating his pancakes, but he decides that he doesn’t want to wait. He conjures a hand mirror in front of his plate and runs his glowing hand over his chin carefully, leaving smooth skin behind. Alec smiles at him over his coffee mug and Magnus smiles back, glancing at his now hairless face in the mirror. That feels better. Maybe he’ll go ahead and wax his legs and his chest as well.

“Of all the days to be called out on patrol—”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Alec sighs, trying to appease Magnus’ annoyance by squeezing his hand. It’s Sunday, it’s the middle of the day, he wasn’t expecting a call from the Institute at all. “But the nest is in a busy metro tunnel just below the end of the parade. In a few hours, there’s going to be thousands of people down there, and who knows when the demons might try to attack the trains. And they’re bat demons, so they need my bow.”

The curse—and occasional blessing, if Alec is honest with himself—of being the only archer worth his salt in the New York Institute, is that despite now being the official Head, he’s still needed on the patrol roster. Most Institute Heads retire from the field, the administrative and political work being a full time job, but Alec still goes out with his siblings several times a week, and he usually leads the special teams called to handle demon surges.

Today, he curses that necessity with everything he has. Magnus has been excited about their first Pride together for weeks, and Alec was truly happy to do this with him.

“We were supposed to go to the parade,” Magnus sulks.

“I’m really sorry,” Alec repeats. “Maybe if we handle this fast enough, I can join you part-way through? I’ll do my best.”

Magnus looks at him critically. “No. I’m coming with you.”

“I know the parade is important to you—”

“It’s only important if we go together,” Magnus answers. “If I come with you, it will be faster, and then I can portal us into the procession directly, if there’s still time.”

“Alright,” Alec nods.

The team, larger than usual patrols because of the size of the demon nest, is almost ready when Alec and Magnus make it to the ops center. Alec quickly gets his bow and quiver and straps on his thigh holsters, and moves to signal the go ahead.

“Wait,” Magnus holds him up. “If we’re going to do this, we’ll do it in style.”

Alec frowns as he waves his hand, releasing a cloud of blue magic onto the two of them. Alec looks down at himself, his eyes gliding over his outfit before he clocks the changes. The lapel of his leather jacket now holds two prominent flag pins, a rainbow one and one with the black, gray, white and purple of the asexual flag. He sees matching pins, significantly larger, on Magnus’ vest, with his own flags. It’s the first time, as far as Alec knows, that Magnus has outwardly worn his nonbinary identity in the Institute, and he feels a swell of pride at the shine in Magnus’ eyes.

“Look at your arrows, sir,” Underhill’s voice comes from over his shoulder.

Alec twists his head to see the fletching of his arrows, usually red, is now brightly colored. Each fletch bears the colors of a different pride flag.

“So we can defeat the demons with pride,” Magnus smirks when Alec looks back at him.

“I like it,” Alec smiles. The mass of bright colors hurts his eyes a little, but the gazes of his teammates on them aren’t full of judgment but of amusement, and that’s a victory in its own right. He runs a hand over the little pins on his lapel.

“Um, sir?” Underhill asks, clearing his throat.

“Yes?” Alec turns to him, but he realizes that Underhill is looking at Magnus and not at him.

He gestures at the pins Magnus is wearing, and Alec can feel Magnus brace himself for a comment. “Could I, uh, have one too?”

Magnus blinks. “Of course,” he recovers quickly. “Rainbow flag?”

“Yeah,” Underhill nods.

Magnus snaps his fingers, and a pin as large as his own appears on Underhill’s chest.

“Thank you!”

Alec is certain he can see his subordinate’s eyes shine.

“Anyone else?” Magnus asks, full of mirth. A few people grumble, including Jace, until a young Shadowhunter takes a step forward.

“Can I have a trans pin?” she asks, her voice only wavering a little.

Alec feels a swell of pride. Kara is one of the youngest recruits, a sixteen year old who’s mostly kept to herself since she transferred to the Institute last winter, because he was the only Head willing to accept her chosen name and pronouns. Her face is set in stubborn determination as she fields her teammates' stares and stands in front of Magnus. Magnus beams at her. “Here you go, darling,” he snaps his fingers again. Kara looks down at the shiny pastel colored pin in reverence, and flashes him a smile.

“Are we ready to go?” Alec asks. He doesn’t want to break the moment, but they really need to move.

Magnus takes a step back and throws out a portal in front of them. “Let’s go kill some demons,” he says.

Alec grabs an aromantic-themed arrow from his quiver, smiling internally at the pun, and nocks it onto his bow string before stepping through the portal.

Alec does his best to pay attention to what Jia is telling him, but he’s not having the best time of it. He’s had a full glass of champagne already and it’s getting to his head a little, and the ambient noise isn’t helping his concentration — in fact, it’s loud enough that his head is pounding and he’s losing track of what’s going on.

And then, there’s Magnus. Alec keeps stealing concerned glances at him, standing across the room in conversation with an older Shadowhunter from the Prague Institute. It’s been at least ten minutes, and every time Alec looks, Magnus is wearing a new accessory.

Alec knows why Magnus elected for a plain look today, for their very first reception since they moved to Alicante. He wanted to avoid dragging attention to him, knowing that many people in attendance are doubtful toward the new High Warlock of Alicante. Tonight marks Alec’s official nomination as Inquisitor, and he wanted to spare Alec a scene.

Alec is starting to suspect that a scene may be unavoidable, and if the reason is what he suspects, then he will wholeheartedly defend Magnus. It started with earrings. Magnus went for a simple dark suit with almost no jewelry beside his wedding ring, but he’s now sporting a very shiny pair of diamond earrings. And a necklace. And a butterfly hair clip that probably costs more than a year of Alec’s now sizable salary.

And now, lipstick. Very obvious, bright red lipstick.

“I’m so sorry,” Alec turns back to Jia, “but I believe my husband needs my help.”

Even though she’s now his direct superior, he doesn’t wait to be dismissed and he strides through the room, his height and his new status meaning that everyone gets out of his way. Izzy catches his eyes briefly, and Alec signals at her to stand by.

By the time he’s made it to his husband’s side, Magnus’ hair has turned into a vibrant rendition of the nonbinary flag, and that’s not a good sign. Alec steps into his field of vision before putting a hand on his arm.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Peachy,” Magnus says through his teeth. “This gentleman right here was just telling me about a very strange sort of demon that possesses young Nephilim men and makes them pretend to be women in order to assault actual women.”

Alec blinks as he takes that in, as well as the poison in Magnus’ tone. He tightens his grip on Magnus’ arm, feeling the stares on them — Magnus’ new hair color is hard to miss.

“Really?” he asks innocently, tilting his head. “I’ve never heard of those demons. I should read up on them, so I can make sure every Institute is fully ready for an invasion. What did you say their classification was, Mr. Svec?”

The man gapes at him. “They’re...uh...I don’t…”

“That’s what I thought,” Alec says icily. “There’s no such thing. You’re Kara’s father, aren’t you?”

“That monster isn’t my son,” Svec spits out.

“No, you’re right. She’s not. She’s your daughter. And she’s absolutely thriving at the New York Institute, by the way. She’s the best fighter in her class. That’s what happens when people accept you for who you are.” Alec deliberately turns his back to the sputtering man and looks at Magnus. “Honey, it’s getting late, we should probably head home,” he says, purposefully speaking louder than he needs to. Magnus is trembling with rage, fighting to rein himself in. “Let me just tell Jia, okay?” he adds in a murmur, just for Magnus.

Magnus closes his eyes and nods. “Get me away from him,” he says.

Alec gently guides him over to Izzy, who immediately takes Magnus’ hand. “Let’s stay out of the crowd,” she says, nodding at Alec that she’ll take care of him.

Alec finds Jia with Aline by the buffet. “I can’t condone this kind of bigotry coming from the Head of an Institute,” he says through his teeth.

“I don’t think he’ll try that twice around you,” Aline chuckles, nodding toward Svec, who is now glaring at them from across the room, clearly ostracized. “He didn’t make any friends tonight.”

“What happened tonight isn’t enough to remove him, but as Inquisitor, you’ll be able to push for someone else to take his place when his contract is up in six months,” Jia says. “I understand your anger, Alec. But we can’t change people in a day.”

Alec remembers, not for the first time since she offered him the job of Inquisitor, that she’s not just the progressivist Consul that the most conservative Nephilim frown at, or the mother of one of his best friends. She’s also the person who once sentenced Clary to death without a second thought. If he wants change, he’ll have to bring it on himself.

He exchanges a look with Aline, thinking of the folder on his new desk, the proposal they might have a chance at getting through now that he’s the Inquisitor. Jia’s right, it won’t be done in a day. But it will happen. Alec will make it happen.

And if at some point in the meantime, he has the opportunity to get rid of a few bigots like Svec, he won’t turn his nose up at it.

“Magnus and I are going home,” he says. “Thank you for tonight.”

“Congratulations on the promotion again,” Jia nods. “I’ll expect you in my office at eight tomorrow.”

“Good night.” Alec has to unclench his fist to shake Jia’s hand, and he realizes just how angry he is. Aline clasps him on the shoulder with an understanding look.

He finds Magnus and Izzy at the door, ready to go. “Can you portal us home?” he asks Magnus as they step outside.

Magnus wordlessly opens a portal and steps through without checking that Alec is following him, a testimony of how unsettled he still is. Alec takes the time to hug Izzy before he goes through. “You were amazing,” she slips him, kissing him on the cheek.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he answers. “Thanks for your help.”

Alec comes behind Magnus and embraces him as soon as he’s out of the portal. Magnus took them straight to their bedroom, but he hasn’t moved since, standing there trembling in rage — or in something else.

“I love you,” Alec murmurs over and over in his ear. “All of you.”

After a minute, the shaking subsides, and Alec feels his own anger drain with it. It leaves him tired and out of sorts, his head still ringing with the noise of the reception. He loosens his hold on Magnus and takes one hand off of him to pull off his tie.

“I’m sorry,” Magnus murmurs. “I really wanted to avoid making a scene.”

Alec moves to face him. “Don’t ever apologize for something a bigot caused. It wasn’t you.”

“I tried to just ignore him, but—”

“He was awful,” Alec finishes. “I know.”

“I don’t know why I let him get to me so much,” Magnus sighs.

Alec guides them both to sit down on the bed.

“You love Kara,” he says. “He was saying horrible things.”

Magnus shakes his head. “I didn’t even know that was her father.”

Alec shrugs. “We all get triggered sometimes. He just pushed the wrong buttons.”

Magnus curls up and buries his hands in his still colored hair. “I usually have better control than that,” he says.

“I think I know what happened,” Alec sighs. “You were feeling insecure because you toned down your whole identity for me, in a place where you don’t feel safe. You were already on edge, and probably dysphoric, am I wrong?”

“No,” Magnus mutters. “I hate slacks.”

“Magnus, I don’t want you to change yourself for me, ever,” Alec says. He puts a hand on Magnus’ shoulder, to make sure that he’s really listening. Magnus looks up at him. “I don’t want you to make yourself smaller or more acceptable because you think it will be better for me.”

“I just—” Magnus sighs. “It was your day.”

“We’re not, ever, going to be normal. Not for the Downworld, and definitely not for the Clave. And I don’t want us to be, Magnus. I’ve spent enough time trying to make myself fit into a mold that didn’t fit me. I don’t ever want you to tone yourself done for them.”

“Okay,” Magnus murmurs, his voice fragile. Alec feels a strong pulse of anger at Svec course through him again, seeing Magnus so vulnerable. Magnus isn’t supposed to be vulnerable. Not about this.

Or maybe he’s more insecure about it than Alec realized.

Alec holds him for a while in silence, feeling Magnus’ need to recoup. “How did you know I was feeling dysphoric?” Magnus asks suddenly, after a few minutes.

“I’m starting to recognize it,” Alec shrugs. “Also, you might want to look at a mirror.”

Before he can realize it, Magnus is out of his embrace, staring at a hastily conjured hand mirror. “Fuck,” he mutters, showing Alec that his suspicion was right. Magnus didn’t realize the way his magic responded to his discomfort.

“Did I just come out to the entire Council because I was angry?”

“Uh,” Alec hesitates. “I doubt that many of them know what the colors mean. They’ll just put it down as one of your...eccentricities. Izzy might know, though.”

“That’s why she kept saying she loved me,” Magnus breathes out, running a hand through his colorful hair.

“Should I be jealous?” Alec raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t know, Alexander. I’ve been thinking of leaving you for Isabelle’s legendary cooking skills.”

Alec makes a face at him, then he reaches out and touches the tip of Magnus’ artfully styled hair where it’s dyed bright yellow. “I like this look on you,” he says. “I mean, I don’t like that you felt so threatened that your magic reacted this way, but I like to see you proud and loud. You’re beautiful.”

Magnus beams at him and relaxes back against Alec’s chest, holding up the mirror to look at the both of them, Alec straight-backed in his serious black suit and Magnus boneless against him, a flurry of colors. Alec wonders, often — especially on days like today — if they could make a more disparate couple, at least in the eyes of the world.

And yet the ways in which they fit together outweigh their differences, every day.

+1.

“I asked you here because I want to show you something,” Alec says when Magnus walks into his office on a Friday afternoon, holding his phone in his hand and looking confused.

Magnus stills at his seriousness. “Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all. The opposite, actually. But it’s important to me, and I thought you’d want to see it.”

Alec takes a thin blue folder from his desk and hands it over to Magnus, a small smile on his lips. Magnus opens it with a frown.

“What is this?” he asks.

“The ruling from the latest Council meeting,” Alec answers. “It came in just this afternoon.”

“The one they asked you to testify in?”

Alec confirms with a nod. He didn’t tell Magnus exactly why he needed to talk at the Council assembly, but it’s a common enough occurrence that Magnus didn’t think much of it. To Alec, though, it was a moment he’s waited for for a long time.

He watches Magnus skim the first lines of the ruling, his eyebrows shooting up. “Is that what I think it is?” Magnus asks, glancing up at him.

Alec’s fingers find his wedding ring and start spinning it. “Depends what you’re thinking,” he shrugs, trying to look unconcerned. He probably shouldn’t be anxious about Magnus’ reaction, but he is. “It’s the first part of a set of amendments to Clave law that I’ve been pushing for since before I was named Inquisitor. Aline and I presented them to the Council last month, and they’ve just been voted.”

“You and Aline,” Magnus says pensively. “‘Amendments concerning the inclusion of members of the LGBTQUIA+ community,’” he reads out loud. “You did this?”

“Full marriage equality regardless of gender, including for mixed-species couples,” Alec recites. “Automatic acceptance of name and gender change requests if related to transition. Recognition of the existence of genders outside the binary.”

Magnus gasps in surprise. Alec nods to confirm the truth of it. It’s one of the things the Council fought back the most on, and he pushed hard to get it to pass. It goes beyond even mundane progress in every country he’s looked up, but it was too important to let go.

“Anti-discrimination policies,” he continues. “And this one might affect us directly someday: equal rights to adoption and the use of surrogates.”

Magnus’ eyes light up briefly, though he doesn’t immediately comment. Alec wrings his hands and rambles on nervously. “We didn’t manage to get the legalization of polyamorous marriages, but we’ll keep working on it. We’re preparing a second proposal on Downworlder inclusion, but that one will probably make amendments to the Accords necessary, and that will take a lot more time.”

“Alexander,” Magnus says in a low voice. Alec almost keeps going, too nervous to stop, but there’s something almost dangerous in Magnus’ gaze.

“Yes?”

“You did all this?”

“Not on my own,” Alec shakes his head. “Aline wrote up most of the proposal, and we got as many queer Shadowhunters to come testify as possible. There aren’t a lot of trans Nephilim who are out, but it was important, especially since most of the people on the Council have little knowledge of these issues. Aline being Jia’s daughter probably helped a lot, and our wedding made a lot of noise around here.”

“No,” Magnus catches his wrist. “You did all this and you didn’t tell me anything? Not once?”

Alec deflates. “I, uh… I wasn’t sure it would go anywhere at first, and I know Clave politics can be a touchy subject for you. And then when we finally got the hearing, I kind of wanted to keep it a surprise? I didn’t want you to be disappointed if it didn’t work.”

He doesn’t understand Magnus’ reaction, or rather his lack of reaction. He’s been absurdly happy ever since Aline came by his office earlier this afternoon to bring him the ruling, and he thought Magnus would share his mood once he found out. But he seems pensive instead, like this doesn’t interest him all that much.

“What about you, Alexander?” he asks. “What if it hadn’t worked?”

“We would have kept trying,” Alec shrugs. “Like the last four times we submitted the proposal.”

Magnus blinks. “Four times?”

“The first time, it didn’t even make it past Jia’s office. She’s supportive, but it was shortly after she was elected, and she couldn’t afford the waves it would make when there were still so many Circle supporters around.” Alec consciously stops himself from talking and stills his hands, clasping them behind his back. “Magnus—”

“Yes?” Magnus prompts him.

“Are you angry I didn’t tell you?”

Magnus’ eyes widen in surprise. “No, Alexander, of course not. I’m just—overwhelmed, I suppose. I’m sorry I made you think that.”

“Then what is it? I thought you’d like it.”

Magnus looks away, biting his lip. “I do,” he says. “I—what you’ve accomplished is incredible. It’s going to change—everything—for some people, and that’s amazing. And I know that you didn’t do it for me, but—”

“You’ll be able to get the gender mentioned on your Idris ID changed or removed,” Alec finishes for him. “And anything else you want. I did do it for you, Magnus. Not just you, but for you, too.”

“I’m not a Shadowhunter,” Magnus says.

“You live here, now. This will apply to every Downworlder in Idris, too.”

Magnus works his jaw. “I’m having a hard time processing it,” he admits. “It’s been so long that—to be able to have my whole identity recognized, in Idris of all places—it’s almost impossible to believe.”

Alec’s tension relaxes almost on its own. “You can take your time,” he smiles. “It will still be here tomorrow, and the day after. Are you...mad that I didn’t include you in the process?”

“Why didn’t you?” Magnus frowns.

“I figured you had other things on your mind, with all the work you’re doing to get more Downworlders to move here. And it felt like...like something we should achieve on our own, somehow? I don’t know if that makes sense. Aline and I discussed asking you for advice several times, but we felt like it should be our project.”

“It does make sense,” Magnus nods. “This isn’t just about changing the law. You’re trying to change the culture, your culture, and I’ll never be a part of that. I understand.”

“I don’t want you to feel excluded,” Alec says immediately.

“I don’t. I’m amazed at what you’ve achieved. And if the next step is a rewrite of the Accords, then I’ll back you every step of the way, and push for those changes in the Downworld communities too.” He reaches out to stroke Alec’s cheek tenderly. “I love you, Alexander. You still surprise me every day, and I love you so much for it.”

Alec feels his heart speed up at the declaration, a wave of warmth and love coursing through him, reaching for Magnus. He opens his arms, and Magnus comes to nestle his face in Alec’s neck, hugging him tightly. “I love you too,” Alec says. “It would mean everything to me if we can take this next step in tandem. Change the world together.”

Magnus moves to beam up at him. “You’re incredible, Alexander. You know that?”

“You keep telling me,” Alec smiles, leaning in to kiss him.

As they pull apart again, he can’t help admiring the way the light hits Magnus’ face just right, highlighting the golden sparkles in his blue eyeshadow. Magnus has made it a point to wear warlock blue everyday since they moved to Alicante, but today it’s subdued, down to just his makeup and a discreet sapphire bracelet. He tilts his head, and the light makes his eyes glow.

“When you said the amendment about adoption could affect us, did you mean it?” he asks.

Alec bites his lip. “I know we’ve only talked about children in a very abstract way, but—is that something you’d want?” he asks in a smaller voice than he’d like.

“I’ve never truly wanted it before I met you, but yes, I think I would,” Magnus answers, looking a little awestruck by his own realization.

“It’s not something we need to commit to right now,” Alec reassures him. “But now, if we want to, the Clave will fully recognize any child we adopt as ours, and as a legal resident of Idris.”

“All thanks to you,” Magnus murmurs, tears in his eyes. “Yes, Alexander, I want children with you.”

“Then we’ll start thinking about that,” Alec says with a wide smile. “For now, let’s go home and celebrate properly.”

Magnus laughs wetly and twists his hand to make a portal. “After you,” he says.

Alec grabs his hand and pulls them through together.

#shadowhunters #malec #malec fic #alec lightwood #magnus bane #shadowhunters fic #mine #echo's fanfiction #map out a world #autistic alec lightwood #asexual alec lightwood #nonbinary magnus bane #malec discord server #hmdiscord

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365days365movies · 3 years

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April 11, 2021: Tootsie (1982) (Recap)

To be clear, I like Dustin Hoffman.

I can’t exactly claim that I’ve seen him in a lot of his most iconic roles, but I’m planning on fixing that this year for sure! On my to-watch list this year and beyond is Midnight Cowboy, Kramer vs. Kramer, Stranger Than Fiction, and Marathon Man at the very least.

But that’s not to say I haven’t seen him in other iconic roles of his, of course. Fun fact: I actually tried to do this project in 2019, and it...didn’t work. But, one of the films I watched that year was one of Hoffman’s most iconic dramatic films: Rain Man.

Oh, and by the way, that movie is not about an autistic man. Or, rather, it’s not based on a man diagnosed with one of the autism spectrum disorders. Instead, he actually most likely had a genetic disorder called FG syndrome, unrelated to the spectrum disorders. Ironic, since Hoffman’s character was the pop-cultural depiction of autism that people STILL refer to quite often, and quite inaccurately. But, obviously, that’s not Hoffman’s fault, and he was good in the movie, to be fair.

I grew up with him in Hook, as the pirate captain himself (I still do his laugh sometimes, it’s weird, I know). He had an underappreciated starring role in one of my favorite guilty-pleasure films, Outbreak (I fucking love that movie, and I’m not ashamed to admit that). He was in Finding Neverland, but I just forgot about that until I looked up his filmography to write this intro. And, of course...Master Shifu.

So, yeah, I actually DO like Dustin Hoffman, despite the fact that his role in The Graduate wasn’t stellar for me. Just seemed kinda miscast, and a little too awkward to be even slightly sympathetic. Then again, he wasn’t really meant to be, so maybe Hoffman was the perfect choice. Even then, he still acted well in it.

And anyway, I watched that movie for two major reasons. One, it was on my list of films to see, and TWO: it was a lead-up to the ACTUAL Hoffman film I wanted to watch this month: Tootsie. After all, I just watched rom-com Some Like It Hot, and if you’ve looked at me schedule, you know what film is coming next. So, this one fits in my planned schedule. Why? Well...there’s a theme.

Yup. I actually picked these movies for a reason. See, here’s the thing: this is a repeated trope in comedies, and I’ve always wondered whether or not it’s...problematic. But, much to my surprise with Some Like It Hot, they actually used the situation to comment on the female experience. I mean, not necessarily really well, but they tried at the very least. And for a film from 1959, that ain’t bad!

Which isn’t to say that it’s entirely clean, of course, but it was far better than I’d expected. So, if 1959 did that OK, how did 1982 do? Let’s find out, shall we?

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

Michael Dorsey (Dustin Hoffman) is an acting coach, as well as being an actor himself. However, he’s not the most successful actor, as he keeps attempting to audition for pieces, only to get refused for nebulous reasons, or refuses them when he disagrees with the director. He might want to take his own advice, for the record.

In the meantime, he works in a restaurant with Jeff Slater (Bill Murray), a playwright and roommate. That night, the night of his birthday, he spends time with an actress friend, Sandy Lester (Teri Garr), and also hits on the majority of women there that night.

As the party concludes, and various people go home, Sandy is abandoned by her date, and Michael offers to take her home. She breaks down crying, and Michael guesses that she’s upset about an upcoming audition. He gives her some coaching advice, and manages to get her to produce the correct emotion for the role. Afraid that she’ll lose it without him, he agrees to accompany her to the audition and enrage her. It’s very funny.

That morning, however, she IMMEDIATELY gets kicked out of the audition, as she wasn’t right for the part. However, when he goes to help her by speaking with an actor on the show, he finds out that the actor is off the show, and is instead getting a part that MICHAEL was supposed to get. Now enraged himself, he goes to speak with his agent, George Fields (Sydney Pollack), and the two have a tense conversation. It’s revealed that because of his difficult nature, he has a terrible reputation in acting circles, and literally nobody will hire him.

Challenge accepted.

Now dressed up as a woman named “Dorothy Michaels”, he goes back to the audition that passed on Sandy. Like her, he’s also immediately rejected by the director, Ron Carlisle (Dabney Coleman), who insists that she’s too “gentile” for the part of a hospital administrator. This causes “Dorothy” to go off, in a righteous monologue that accuses Ron for conflating power with masculinity. Which...yeah, he totally is, and DAMN, it’s a good tell-off!

Producer Rita Marshall (Doris Belack) agrees, and invites “Dorothy” to read for the part. He comes in to read, and in the process meets Julie Nichols (Jessica Lange), to whom he’s IMMEDIATELY attracted. He brushes that off, and the audition commences. From there, he gets the part, which is a regular part on a soap opera called Southwest General.

Now fully invested in the dumbest idea anybody’s ever had, “Dorothy” goes to her agent and tells him the ridiculous news, and asks for $1000 to go shopping for more clothing. Back at their apartment, Michael speaks to Jeff about the whole situation. He notes that he’s doing this to get the money for his play in Syracuse, which requires $8000 to produce.

Sandy is to be cast in this play, which is an issue, as they now need to explain where the money came from, as it’s technically from the part that SHE was refused for, which would hurt her feelings. He lies and says that the money’s from a deceased relative. While in her place, and while she’s in the shower, he decides to try on some of her clothes to get ideas for Dorothy. But when she walks in on him, he lies AGAIN and says that he’s sexually attracted to her. And she reciprocates IMMEDIATELY, which leads to an unintended relationship.

On the set, “Dorothy” finds out that he’ll be kissing John Van Horn (George Gaynes), an older actor who’s clearly a bit past his prime, and makes it a point to kiss every actress on the set when they start on the show. Gross. Michael agrees, and when the scene comes, he improvises and has his character (Emily) hit the doctor instead.

While the director (who’s a DICK, by the way) notes the improvisation, he approves of it, while also discouraging any similar actions in the future, and calling her “toots”. “Dorothy” takes it, rather than talks back. John compliments her on the improvisation, and then kisses “Dorothy” anyway, much to Michael’s shock!

We also find out that Julie, who plays a nurse on the show, is dating director Ron. Later on, though, Michael observes him making out with another actress on stage. Shortly after this, Julie invites “Dorothy” to dinner at her place, which is eagerly accepted. At dinner, we find out that Julie has a young daughter and that her relationship with Ron is...not stellar.

They have a discussion about being a woman in the ‘80s, and the complexities inherent in that concept, which is an interesting theme of this movie! Gotta say, this is a more socially-conscious version of Some Like It Hot, and I really like that! But the conversation is cut short when Michael realizes that he’d promised dinner with Sandy that night, and leaves in a hurry.

Dinner with Sandy is awkward, as Sandy is...Sandy is a lot, to be honest. But, she tells Michael that the woman hired in her stead on the soap opera (who is, of course, Michael himself), is written as a wimp, rather than tough as intended, and that she should change that. Michael agrees, and actively goes against the script to make the character of Emily far tougher. and essentially a feminist.

While this causes some grief to Ron and Rita at first, Dorothy Michaels soon becomes a massively successful and popular actress on the show, and her popularity absolutely explodes. Michael’s wrapped up in the success of Dorothy Michaels, and thinks that she might be able to branch outside of the role of the soap opera. Which is difficult, as his agent points out, because of the simple fact that Michael is...well, Michael.

At a party that his agent invites him to, Michael meets Julie AS MICHAEL. He uses a line on her that she’d mentioned before to Dorothy, only to be met with a drink to the face. Which is fair, as the line was about being honest about wanting to have sex with her, so I get it.

On the set soon afterwards, we see that the show is becoming more progressive, allowing Julie’s nurse character to stand up to John’s chief doctor character. After the scene is done, the director once again calls Dorothy “toots” instead of her real name, and Dorothy absolutely snaps back at him, and rightfully so! In response, Julie goes and invites Dorothy to a weekend in the country, on her father’s farm. Despite some rebuke from Jeff for lying to Sandy AND Julie, Michael as “Dorothy” goes on the trip.

This, by the way, is an excellent time to mention that this film is exuding some real strong, uh, vibes. You know...alphabet mafia vibes. Like, it’s definitely there, heavily leaning towards Julie. Obviously, “Dorothy” is actually the heterosexual Michael, but that’s not helping, just saying. And there’s literally (and absolutely obviously) nothing wrong with that, but it’s so strong at this point that it’s hard to ignore.

On the farm, “Dorothy” meets Les Nichols (Charles Durning), Julie’s lonely and genuinely nice father, if a bit old-fashioned in his views on gender politics. He’s also got the hots for “Dorothy”, which is funny-but-awkward as shit. That night, Julie tells “Dorothy” some very personal things about her dreams as a child, which is a genuinely very sweet scene. And can I just say, that this movie is both funny and quite heartfelt? I love it! Also, again, the vibes...THE VIBES.

Meanwhile, the popularity of “Dorothy” continues to skyrocket, to the frustration of director Ron, but to the delight of producer Rita, who decides to extend her contract with the soap opera by a full year! Oh FUCK! Realizing what the hell he’s gotten himself into, Michael calls his agent, who tells him that it was in his contract, meaning he’s basically fucked.

Jeff also tries to help hi, out of it, to no avail. Just then, though, they get a call from Julie, looking for “Dorothy”. She’s been having her doubts about her relationship with Ron, and she realizes that she’s been settling for Ron and other men like him. And Dorothy’s inspired her to be a better person, and to be honest with others and with herself. Fuckin’ OOF.

Just then, Ron arrives, allowing them some alone time, as Julie is getting ready for their night out. In the process, “Dorothy” reveals that she knows about his indiscretions with other women. Ron proceeds to use the EXACT SAME EXCUSE that Michael used to excuse his lies to Sandy, and it’s well-executed! Good job, writers, that’s pretty awesome.

“Dorothy” promises to watch Julie’s daughter for the night, which proves a bit of an issue, but he works it out. Julie returns later on, having broken up with Ron. Another heart-to-heart ensues, but this one is concluded with a revelation that Julie is lonely, despite the fact that she appreciates Dorothy’s influence and friendship. And then, "Dorothy” tries to kiss Julie. OH

Yeah, Julie’s not exactly chuffed about this as, despite a LOT of “Sappho and her friends” vibes, she doesn’t actually swing that way. “Dorothy” tries to explain, but this is interrupted by a call from Julie’s dad! He asks her out on a date that night, and “Dorothy” accepts. On said date, he FUCKIN’ PROPOSES TO HER! She promises to think about it, and takes the fuck OFF.

And to continue the parade of “Fuck me, I guess” that marching down Michael Street, who should show up at the apartment but John, from the show! Having followed her home the previous night (YIKES BUDDY), he literally serenades her outside of the apartment window, before “Dorothy” lets him in. It’s there that he reveals he’s MADLY in lust with her, and it’s HILARIOUSLY awkward. Thankfully, just as John is forcing himself on her, Jeff walks in on them, interrupting John’s actions, and causing him to leave in shame.

AND FUCKING THEN, after all of that, Sandy arrives at the apartment to find out why Michael’s not returned her phone calls. And Sandy’s a lot, sure, but all of her concerns are completely valid and legitimate. And despite Michael’s impressive ability to lie, he tells her the truth: he’s in love with another woman. Which she absolutely freaks the fuck out about, but whatever, not like Michael doesn’t deserve that.

Having had it with all the drama around Dorothy’s life, he goes to his agent and hilariously recounts to him the whole series of events that’s taken place. Still struggling to find a way to get out of the situation, he goes to work the next day, for an awkward conversation with Julie. She thanks Dorothy for inspiring her to be true to herself, which cuts DEEP, but still says that they shouldn’t spend time together anymore.

Producer Rita arrives with news: the erasure of a reel of footage has forced them to shoot a scene live. Said scene involves a party being thrown for Dorothy’s characters, putting her in the starring role. And THAT is when Michael takes his chance. Dorothy improvises a monologue about Emily’s REAL past, as a twin who tragically died before realizing her dream to become a hospital administrator. Ripping off his disguise, Michael reveals himself as Emily’s twin brother, Edward!

Everyone on stage and at home is SHOCKED, especially Les, John, Sandy, and of course, Julie. And once the cameras stop rolling, Julie now understands everything. She walks right up to Michael...AND PUNCHES HIM IN THE DICK

John asks if Jeff knows, and I break in half laughing.

Months pass. Michael was able to fund Jeff’s play in Syracuse, and goes to meet Les, who lives in the area. The two make amends after an understandably awkward reunion, and they begin the journey to become friends after everything. This prompts Michael to return to the city and speak with Julie, who is...less than happy to see him. Which, yeah, entirely fair.

But, again overcoming the initial awkwardness, Julie is able to admit that she misses her friend Dorothy. And Michael reciprocates, speaking for Dorothy, who is...well, him. He says the following great line:

I was a better man with you as a woman than I ever was with a woman as a man.

And from there...the two decide to rekindle a friendship, with Julie asking to borrow one of Michael’s dresses. And y’know...I’m rooting for those crazy kids.

That’s Tootsie! And, uh...I love it! I LOVE it. I actually think this is a great film, and one of the best I’ve seen this month. But I’ll elaborate...in the Review! See you there!

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picnic-at-dreaming-rock · 3 years

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Top 5 New Books of 2020

A round up of the top 5 new books that I have read this year, full 2020 reading list found here

Warning for possible spoilers below the cut.

Please Don’t Hug Me - Kay Kerr

Erin is looking forward to Schoolies, at least she thinks she is. But things are not going to plan. Life is getting messy, and for Erin, who is autistic, that’s a big problem. She’s lost her job at Surf Zone after an incident that clearly was not her fault. Her driving test went badly even though she followed the instructions perfectly. Her boyfriend is not turning out to be the romantic type. And she’s missing her brother, Rudy, who left almost a year ago.

But now that she’s writing letters to him, some things are beginning to make just a tiny bit of sense.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

I cannot stress enough how much I love this book. Growing up as an autistic teen girl, I really lack a lot of representation, both real and fictional, and this books is a huge step forward in remedying that. Written by an autistic woman (yes, this is an #ownvoices novel!), Please Don’t Hug Me shows autism in a new and beautiful light as to what is most commonly shown. Erin is no genius savant that is only autistic when plot relevant or has a lack of social skills used only for comedic relief, but instead a encapsulation of the ordinary and everyday autistic experience of just wanting to get through the day with as little meltdowns as possible while still maintaining your neurotypical facade.

The Dictionary of Lost Words - Pip Williams

In 1901, the word bondmaid was discovered missing from the Oxford English Dictionary. This is the story of the girl who stole it.

Motherless and irrepressibly curious, Esme spends her childhood in the Scriptorium, a garden shed in Oxford where her father and a team of lexicographers are gathering words for the very first Oxford English Dictionary.

Esme’s place is beneath the sorting table, unseen and unheard. One day, she sees a slip containing the word bondmaid flutter to the floor unclaimed. Esme seizes the word and hides it in an old wooden trunk that belongs to her friend, Lizzie, a young servant in the big house. Esme begins to collect other words from the Scriptorium that are misplaced, discarded or have been neglected by the dictionary men. They help her make sense of the world.

Over time, Esme realises that some words are considered more important than others, and that words and meanings relating to women’s experiences often go unrecorded. She begins to collect words for another dictionary: The Dictionary of Lost Words.

⭐⭐⭐⭐

One of my favourite parts about this novel is how perfectly it showed both misogyny and classism/elitism, and how they intertwined. Although it is set in the mid/late 19th century and early 20th century, there is this sense of relatability to it that I think I lot of people might be able to recognise. Williams deals with a lot topics that I don’t often see in other media, such as menstruation without fancy allusions or making it into anything other than what it is, pregnancy out-of-wedlock without it being seen as a character flaw on the woman’s part, and showing characters one might consider like a hag or spinster to be good people worth celebrating because of things that deem them lesser rather than despite it or not at all. One main criticism I do have with this book, however, is how it seems like William just adds tragedy for the sake of moving the plot forward/to add shock value or drama. I will admit, it did get me crying at some parts, it did get a little tedious and lack-luster to have the last half of the novel just be death after life-altering event after death after life-altering event.

The Book Thief - Markus Zusak

It is 1939. Nazi Germany. The country is holding its breath. Death has never been busier, and will be busier still.

By her brother's graveside, Liesel's life is changed when she picks up a single object, partially hidden in the snow. It is The Gravedigger's Handbook, left behind there by accident, and it is her first act of book thievery. So begins a love affair with books and words, as Liesel, with the help of her accordian-playing foster father, learns to read. Soon she is stealing books from Nazi book-burnings, the mayor's wife's library, wherever there are books to be found.

But these are dangerous times. When Liesel's foster family hides a Jew in their basement, Liesel's world is both opened up, and closed down.

⭐⭐⭐⭐

I read this book for my advanced literature class earlier this year and it was a great choice on the schools part. Everyone in my class enjoyed it, even if a lot of us were crying by the end of the novel. The book itself is rich with literary techniques that enrich the actual reading if you are one of those people that like to dissect what they read. I think Zusak made a really good choice with having Death narrate, as well as how he tied in his own experiences/interjections in these mini vignette-type extracts which I found really enhanced both the overall atmosphere and environment. The only qualm I have is that there were a lot of questions left unanswered that made the story feel somewhat empty.

Picnic at Hanging Rock - Joan Lindsay

It was a cloudless summer day in the year nineteen hundred.

Everyone at Appleyard College for Young Ladies agreed it was just right for a picnic at Hanging Rock. After lunch, a group of three of the girls climbed into the blaze of the afternoon sun, pressing on through the scrub into the shadows of Hanging Rock. Further, higher, till at last they disappeared.

They never returned.

Whether Picnic at Hanging Rock is fact or fiction the reader must decide for themselves.

⭐⭐⭐⭐

I watched the Foxtel miniseries first a couple years and thoroughly enjoyed it and sought out the novel very quickly afterwards. I will be honest, I picked the novel up first around 2018/19 and dropped it until earlier this year when I reread/finished it and loved it. Lindsay’s ability to create this perfect and constant juxtaposition between the natural Australian bush and the intruding colonialism is really amazing and adds this interesting aesthetic that the academia community on this site seems to enjoy. There is also a really interesting dynamic between the female characters (which is most of the characters, to be fair) and they feel complete and authentic, something that doesn’t always exist in other works of literature. There is also one canon queer character, but there is so much subtext in the novel for so many other characters that it feels purposeful. All in all, this is the gayest straight book I ever read.

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes - Suzanne Collins

It is the morning of the reaping that will kick off the tenth annual Hunger Games. In the Capital, eighteen-year-old Coriolanus Snow is preparing for his one shot at glory as a mentor in the Games. The once-mighty house of Snow has fallen on hard times, its fate hanging on the slender chance that Coriolanus will be able to outcharm, outwit, and outmaneuver his fellow students to mentor the winning tribute.

The odds are against him. He's been given the humiliating assignment of mentoring the female tribute from District 12, the lowest of the low. Their fates are now completely intertwined -- every choice Coriolanus makes could lead to favor or failure, triumph or ruin. Inside the arena, it will be a fight to the death. Outside the arena, Coriolanus starts to feel for his doomed tribute... and must weigh his need to follow the rules against his desire to survive no matter what it takes.

⭐⭐⭐⭐

The Hunger Games was one of the series in primary school that rocked my literary world (joining the ranks of The Great Brain, Harry Potter and The Books of Beginning) and helped inspire my love of reading, and when I heard about a prequel I was over the moon with nostalgia. I found it a couple days after its release at Target for $16 and I loved it. I finished it in about a week and I could barely put it down. I loved reading how the hunger games came to be and how they ended up the way they were, as well as advancing Collins’ previously established and incredible world building. The book also adds upon the themes in the original trilogy of government corruption, classism, elitism, individualism and propaganda, but from those that benefit from it (e.g. Snow) instead of those that suffer (e.g. Katniss). I have seen some criticism from people about not liking it being from Snow’s perspective but I personally think that it was the perfect choice, as no other character’s story would be able to add to the story in such a meaningful way.

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chartedrights · 4 years

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Golden Age AU Masterpost

For everyone lacking context, the Golden Age AU is just me riffing on every piece of comic book media I’ve ever consumed. Here are some single-paragraph rundowns I’ve made to keep track of things as I start to write!

The Board of Directors is analogous to the Justice League- they’re pretty much entirely people with superpowers (with the exception of Carol, at first), they’re very prestigious, and they come together to ward off larger threats like the impressive super powered task force they are. Or they used to. Membership’s sort of dropped, and people with powers are getting harder to find and recruit, and the big headliner who ran it left it in the hands of some nurse, which is like. So not sexy.

PEIP is PEIP- they fit right in where they were. In the shadows, in the dark, fighting the threats that the “special people” won’t, protecting people on a lower level than “oh god, the apocalypse,” because apparently the superheroes aren’t concerned with espionage or alien meteors anymore. The pricks. Mostly run by people without superpowers- as far as they know- and deeply concerned with keeping heroes responsible for their own actions. They would be oversight, if they were allowed to be.

CCRP Technical is an interesting place. Charlotte and Ted work there, for Sam, though neither of them is quite sure what it actually does. Paul was recruited in hopes he’d grow into upper management, but he didn’t have the ambition for it. Bill has been there for a decade or two now, ever since he started attending those meetings with Becky and Mrs. Davidson. Melissa... Melissa is their rising star. Mr. Davidson isn’t sure what they found in her, but he’s glad to see her succeed! Good for her! Four for you Melissa, you go Melissa!

Hatchetfield.... is Hatchetfield. It’s small, it’s insular, it’s full of gossip and weirdness and people with eccentric ideas of morality. It might be easier to admit that superheroes and supervillains exist, but let nobody say that the citizens of Hatchetfield ever took the easy road. They will walk uphill, in the snow, denying the supernatural both ways.

Paul is a real sweetheart. He’s autistic, he’s quiet, he likes his routine and the simple pleasures in life... and he just happens to be unkillable and he maybe possibly sort of has the ability to fly. He could be an excellent addition to either team, but he refuses to be a proper superhero, making him Hatchetfield’s most obvious target. Which in turn means that he often ends up acting like a proper superhero against his own will. He thinks Emma is perfectly lovely and still hasn’t noticed her committing crimes.

Emma is Hidgens’ Lab Assistant, which is code for “committing crimes for college credit,” and she does a lot of the footwork for him. Being a henchman definitely tops food service, lets put it that way. She also gets to follow in the family business- a long line of Perkins supervillains ended when Jane broke free and became a real hero for Tom’s sake. She always wanted to be a good person, but Emma is not as opposed to violence. She also cannot wait for Hidgens to level Hatchetfield, which is made complicated by the fact that she likes Paul rather a lot, and he likes Hatchetfield.

Hidgens is a supervillain. He never leaves his house, orchestrates incidents of immense damage to the civic infrastructure, and refuses to acknowledge that just maybe putting children into the path of radioactive chemicals is not a valid scientific experiment. He’s not necessarily a bad person, it’s just that his morals refute even the idea of black and white. More like blue and red. Orange and green. He is of the opinion that world peace can only be achieved by world domination, and therefore has begun a track to world domination. He and Sam have a blood feud of indeterminate origin.

Becky Barnes, low-level healer and walking anesthetic, somehow ended up in charge of the Board of Directors. The last leader disappeared three days after handing off control, and Becky is still looking for them. Becky is very conspicuously not looking for her ex-husband, however. It makes some people suspicious, and nobody more than Sam, who is Stanley’s most obnoxious cousin. Apparently, ruining Becky’s life runs in the family. Despite these troubling events, Becky does her best to keep the city standing and the world turning- she and Bill manage what they can, Carol and PEIP manage what they can’t. She’s still in a precarious place, however, and she’s looking for help.

Frank Pricely supplies everyone with gadgets. Hero and villain alike, everyone pays. Not always the same price, but everyone pays. He’s a neutral party, and he acts the part, but everybody likes to debate his loyalties. There’s no such thing as truly neutral, right? Everyone has their price- even him. It’s just a matter of what that price is.

Lex is his cashier, which means that she learned early on in her career in retail that the panic button is not half as good a first resort as the paralysis darts Frank keeps in the cash drawer. She has the ability to manifest objects, as long as she knows where they are. She needs a concrete location to pull them away from, which means that she snoops in every house she visits, checks the staff rooms of every store she enters. She can, on command, find you just about anything you need. For a price. She’s learning a lot lately, though, and what she learns about her powers might put her at risk.

Bill is one of the few members of the Board of Directors still standing. He and Becky get coffee all the time, and commiserate about the lack of help in Hatchetfield. He has telepathy, and certain illusionary abilities, which come in especially handy when he’s talking people down or trying to sneak hostages out of hostage situations. A gentle, well-intentioned man, Bill is not outwardly very intimidating, but he’s strong. Much stronger than most people would like to think. Becky keeps trying to hand off leadership to him, and he gently hands it back every time- he’s got other problems to deal with right now.

Formerly married to the infamous Perkins family heiress, Tom tries to live a nice, quiet life. He used to be a hero- and a damn good one- but Jane defected for him, and then died for it, and he carries more guilt than he probably should. Tom never thought of himself as special, really, and he still doesn’t. He can warp matter- twist it into shape, turn it from one thing to another, and he’s a fine craftsman when he wants to be. But it’s a dangerous thing to have on hand when you’re angry or frightened, and Tom still has an awful case of PTSD hanging around his neck. He’s doing his best to wrangle with it, but he’s going to need some help.

Ethan is just a teenager. Really, he promises. He absolutely swears. Nothing special about him! He’s just real intuitive! He and Lex have been looking into that whole “experimentation” thing they did at CCRP back when they were babies and it wasn’t even interesting! He’s just a mechanic, honestly. He’s a straight C student! He hasn’t even joined the cult off the coast on that houseboat!! He’s a good kid. No reason to be concerned at all.

Ted is also Hidgens’ henchman, but definitely the lower-ranked of the two. He applied hoping he’d make some friends, but thus far all he’s managed to do is fall in love with Charlotte, who is Sam’s henchman. It’s not going badly for him, but it’s not going well, either. He and Paul still work together. Every time Hidgens asks, Ted is like “Paul? Nah. He’s totally normal.”

Gary is a mob lawyer. He used to work for Emma’s family, but now he works for Sherman and Linda. They’re technically competition, and if they ever find out that he’s playing both sides he’ll absolutely die, but in the meantime he is racking up that cash. He is so rich. He is capable of great evil, and occasionally does terrible things, but overall he’s an affable guy. He and Charlotte had an unfortunate tryst once that ended with her tying him to the Welcome to Hatchetfield sign with his own scarf, but he still pines for her. She’s the one that got away. And continues to get away. cops hate her: local woman refuses to go to jail.

MacNamara still works for PEIP, which is only slightly a different job, on account of there being very public superheroes in this world. He and Xander have been married for ten years, but they are both under the (mistaken) impression that it wasn’t a real marriage because it was done undercover. He thinks about that and is very sad about it sometimes. But they’re partners, and that’s good enough that he can be content with it. For now. He has the ability to intensify or nullify other people’s superpowers, and he does his best to keep it quiet. He thinks there’s something noble about living without superpowers, and vaguely wishes that he and Chad’s roles were swapped- until he remembers that Chad has one (1) brain cell to his name.

Xander has the ability to speak to computers. It’s not flashy, at first glance. It doesn’t have the pizzazz of Paul’s gifts or the subtle mind fuckery of John and Bill’s. But he can know whatever he wants, can hear anything, tap any phone call, look through any webcam. He doesn’t, because he’s not a fucking creep, but he can. PEIP was lucky to find him before CCRP- and so was everyone else in the world. Xander’s not flashy in general- he keeps a lot to himself. He and John have been partners for a long time, and they still haven’t said they love each other. He still hasn’t told John that he’s a member of the Board. He still hasn’t told John that he and Paul are in the same book club.

Schaffer doesn’t need powers. You think she needs powers? Her power is that she breathes and death turns away. PEIP was built by good people like Schaffer, people with principles and strong hearts and ice cold spines of steel. Normal, human people, unremarkable except that they chose to be better. She’s fourth-generation PEIP, born and raised to believe in the service they do, the protection they provide. Some of the more bitter agents will say that Schaffer benefitted from nepotism. They will never say this in front of her, because deep down they know she did not and they know that she will prove it by kicking their asses. She and Carol used to date, but the strain of crossing enemy lines in what was, essentially, a Cold War between PEIP and the Board got to them both. Schaffer is the person Hidgens called after he got struck by lightning.

Charlotte is Sam’s henchman and quietly in the running for longest con ever pulled. One day she is going to off him and take his place as the leading supervillain in Hatchetfield, but that day is not today. She likes Ted, but Sam keeps telling her to kill him, so their relationship amounts to “the inherent eroticism of trying to murder each other”. Nobody is entirely certain how she does what she does, but she’s very, very good at her job. Emma looks up to her just a little. She had a therapist once. He tried to sleep with her. She no longer has a therapist. She does have a very lovely goldfish, however.

Mr. Davidson is MacNamara’s twin brother and Hidgens’ ex. His wife is a genuine bona fide Batman-level hero in a bigger city, so he occasionally gets kidnapped or tortured. Hidgens still writes him bitter and mildly threatening love ballads that he genuinely treasures and sends very heartfelt thank you notes for. His life is so messy. There’s so much drama. He’s also completely powerless and cheerful about it. (Re: the Working Boys.... he’s Chad. Chad MacNamara Davidson.)

Alice is developing absolutely no superpowers and she’s really really annoyed about it. She used to take this out on Lex, as teenagers will, but after Lex dropped out she began to regret that. Too little and much too late, but regret is regret. She keeps trying to mend that bridge, but it’s not working. Unfortunately for her, she’s still been seen with Lex and Ethan, and that’s enough. Imminent danger perceives no difference between friend and foe. Alice is full of a very different kind of potential, however, and sooner or later all that bottled-up anger and stress will lash out.

Deb, on the other hand, is an intern at the Board of Directors’ headquarters, which is now St. Damien’s given that Becky is in charge. Interns for heroes are much less common than henchmen working for villains, but Deb has a keen interest in coordination and overseeing operations. Bill hates having her on comms for missions, but she’s just... so good at her job. She can brew a pot of Red Bull twice-steeped coffee, arrange a date with Alice, avoid an international incident, redirect PEIP and talk Bill through defusing a bomb in the same ten-minute stretch. Lesbians can do anything. This is a fact. They are the backbone of our society.

Hot Chocolate Boy is full of secrets. And hot chocolate.

And speaking of St. Damien’s, do you recall poor Bridgette, who lost her eyesight in a horrible accident? I’m not saying Hatchetfield is going to have it’s very own Matt Murdock expy, but I am saying that. She’s blind, she’s Catholic, and she’s coming for your kneecaps.

Linda is a very low-level villain who operates out of her husband’s office and sics her Boating Club on people. Gerald should technically be a threat, given that it’s the Monroe family prerogative to slaughter rising heroes with an alacrity that distinguished them from all the other families in Hatchetfield. He is not. He’s barely even a henchman. Linda got all the bloodlust between the two of them, and she is out for blood from the start. Though initially quickly defeated, she grows in seriousness over the course of time and ends up a formidable threat with a weighty grudge against Becky and Lex. She’s not much in a physical fight, Linda, but she is deeply, deeply vindictive, and she’s willing to make any deals she has to to bring Becky down. Any deals. With anyone. Anything.

Sherman Young is a mob boss, and you know it. He’s a real creep and he’s got some sick hobbies, even for a man in his line of work, but somehow the 80s jacket and the comb-over mullet make it all worse. He’s the richest man in town, and that’s saying something, but if Linda has a say in things he won’t be for long. The Youngs, the Monroes, and the Perkins have been at war since the founding of the town, and Sherman is cutting down his competition. He might have even arranged for Jane’s accident to happen, but nobody is sure. Nobody living, anyway.

Sam is a villain. He’s not super or anything. He’s just a villain. He’s top-tier Joker-level normie, but he still goes toe-to-toe with all kinds of heroes. Notable for being pretty much exactly the same as his show counterpart in regards to his proclivity for threats and violence. He once told Paul to “talk to his fucking gun” only to find that Paul is, despite all outward appearances, fucking immortal. He is still very embarrassed about it. He’s up and coming in the Hatchetfield Villain circuit, but he’s definitely a threat. To who? Who can say. Somebody, somewhere.

Papa Ed is a PEIP informant, and he has the ability to speak to animals. He’s raising Peanuts to be a very small, very enthusiastic little squirrel spy.

Man in a Hurry is a former speedster who lost his powers and compensates for it by Being In A Hurry at all times.

Homeless Man is a CCRP agent. He specializes in camouflage and compassion. He doesn’t remember what came before, but he knows something did, and finding out what it was is all he has left to hope for.

Howard Goodman does not have superpowers, but he’s got gumption. Okay, I lied. He doesn’t have gumption. But he’s a very nice man.

#black friday #starkid #tgwdlm #Golden Age AU #masterpost #long post #[finger guns] love these idiots #this is SO LONG #and i tried not to spoil everything #there’s some stuff i’m keeping in store bc :)) i can

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datingintampafails · 3 years

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Chapter 32: Timmy*

Timmy* gave off a frat-boy kind of vibe with the pictures in his profile, a trope that has become my type. His profile did seem to be half-heartedly filled out; his hometown was just the abbreviation of the state, his employment simply said "cardiac surgery," and a couple typos.

Mostly my reason for wanting to message him, in particular, was that one of his prompts about a travel story was very obviously cut off and he ran out of characters. I messaged him saying the cliffhanger was dramatic and wanted to hear the whole story. It was a very long story, involving being in Ireland and a random person coming into his and his family member’s room. I mentioned I didn’t have anything quite that interesting regarding my travels before. We chatted more and although I wouldn’t say we had a lot of similar hobbies and interests, the conversation did flow well. He was definitely more active than I, going to the gym often and eating pretty healthy and en mass. Very much a gym bro type. I also had assumed he was a surgeon, given his position being cardiac surgery, but then learned later he was more involved in some sort of programming instead for cardiac devices, so not really cardiac surgery per se.

When we moved away from Hinge and onto text messaging, we were both mutually behaving as if we had known each other a while, and better than we did. At one point, he had asked, “are you a guy version of me?” To which, I was very aware of how little we knew about each other, which led me to respond that it was too soon to tell.

I did however confirm my place as forever the more aggressive one; I text him one day "Timmy*, when they fuck are we going out?" Not that it had been too much of a long time talking, but just that he had not yet made a move, and that we were obviously getting along and it would make sense for us to take that next step. We plan for a few days from then, a Tuesday, after work, and that it would have to be more or less played by ear because of our jobs' schedules being semi-unpredictable. My easy place, Armature Works, was chosen as where we would meet up.

Our date got pushed back slightly, as I got off on time, but he was going to be held up at work later than expected. He did however give me ample heads up, so I just relaxed at home a little longer than I would have otherwise, and perfected my outfit and minimal make-up. The day of the date, and leading up to it, I made jokes about being a catfish and that I was actually a middle-aged, fat, Russian man. I continued this while I waited for him when I was describing what outfit I was wearing so he could recognize me better with my mask on, then later added that I was still a middle-aged Russian man, but that I was still wearing a skirt and crop top. I waited for him on a bench for almost 30 minutes. I arrived on time to when he had delayed the date, but still too early apparently. Luckily, I had brought my headphones, so I just listened to some music to pass the time by.

Finally, I received a text message saying that he had parked and then that he could see me. Nothing is more uncomfortable than being seen and not seeing who is looking at you. I looked around and didn't see anyone that looked like him, so I went back to staring at my phone. Eventually, a man looking more like him appeared trotting down the small set of stairs next to me. Although he definitely wasn't short, he seemed shorter than what I was expecting, and his hairline seemed to be just starting to recede.

He was not familiar with the location as much as I am, so I took it upon myself to give him a tour of the location. Despite being indoors, and still pretty amidst a pandemic in late February, Timmy* kept taking his mask off. As a healthcare worker, I was confused and appalled; he should know better. I yelled at him every time to put it back on. Once he said, "you're one of those huh?" I almost rolled my eyes back into my head. Then he also asked me, "well when can I take it off?" to which I responded, "when we are outside and/or we sit down to eat/drink." He got a beer at one of the bars, and it was a beer that had some marijuana in it, which was an interesting choice. After having toured the whole place, it was time to split off to order our respective meals. I got my food, and a drink, and wandered over to the area I had last seen him, as he had said he was going to get a pizza. He was nowhere to be found, so I text him asking where he was. He indicated that he was over by where he had gotten his beer.

I found him and then he told me that he had ordered food from two different restaurants because he couldn't decide and also eats so much due to his athleticism. We found a spot to sit nearby outside, and it is a lovely night, we were comfortable in the fresh air. We both finally did take off our masks and started to eat.

I half-heartedly apologized for being so hard on him regarding the mask-wearing, but emphasized that I am passionate about proper mask-wearing because of my experience with having the virus and wanting to make sure to reduce the spread. He then said, "Oh you had COVID! I'm in a way glad to hear it." He then pauses before saying, "I have COVID too. My doctor said I'm asymptomatic? So I'm totally good." My eyes must have gotten the size of saucers; I leaned away from him and was looking around seeing if anyone had heard him. "Wait what?" Is all I could say. "Uh, no. Please tell me you're joking?" Timmy* stares at me confused, "I'm asymptomatic! So that means like I don't have it."

I am prepared to leave immediately. "So you had a positive test? What? Why are you here right now?" I say. Finally, he drops the rouse and admits he was kidding, but that he got me. "That was not funny. I was legitimately terrified!" So far, this date is bizarre. He mentions that because I joked around so much that I would appreciate it. I did not.

We eat our food and chat. Unfortunately, he also is a person who seems to eat with their mouth open. Another strike. Timmy* has become very comfortable around me, as he also decides to tell me another long story about the time he was "sexually assaulted by a doctor." Which was that he went to a doctor for a physical and that she had grabbed his testicles and had him cough, though the way he told it was extremely drawn out and had many mini-stories leading up to the point that was supposed to be the assault. I then told him, "I'm sorry to say that your doctor was not trying to hit on you on anything, that is a normal thing that happens with mens' checkups." This was news to him. It was obvious that he is not a well-versed healthcare worker.

Once we finished our food, I suggested we walk along the river. First, though, I wanted to drop off my leftovers in my car. We walk to it and I make him guess what kind of car I drive. He is impressed by my car and we don't linger long before I say we should leave the parking lot. He tells me that he has a muscle car, which is so random and I would never put him in a car like that. Whereas a sixteen-year-old girl might be googoo-gaga over this, as a full-grown adult, it isn't quite as alluring to have a car like that.

While on the riverwalk, I become irritated at the fact that he walks very slow. Slower than I am able to walk. It makes no sense as I am significantly shorter than he is, so my strides shouldn't be longer than his. I mention to him that he walks slow and I ask that he walk a little faster. He picked up the pace, but then slowly reverted to his tortoise-like speed over time. I tire of our uneven velocities and we take a seat on some rock benches. We chat about brief things and I suggest we walk back. Again, I battle with the paces, mention it a couple more times that I am unable to walk as slow as he walks.

We get back to the main area of Armature and take a seat in some oversized chairs. He tells me about his family and some stories about his relationships in middle school and high school, which are also drawn out and bizarre. It nears 10pm, and we are told by staff that they close at 10. A couple minutes til, I remind him we need to leave and I ask where he parked. He parked in a different lot, I offered to walk him to his car. He offers to drive me to my car. We do so and his muscle car is indeed very overly-masculine. He goes on to go through a bunch of random songs on Spotify, only playing each song for less than 30 seconds, very ADHD-like. He drives me to my car, but wants to keep me there, again showing me more songs. I'm politely just listening as he flexes on all the types of music he listens to. He tries to show off that he knows "alternative music," my preferred genre, but I point out that a lot of the songs he's playing are more "pop-punk" or just old alternative jams.

He compliments my music taste and mentions that he has noticed I am adept at knowing song names, musicians, movies, and so forth. I begin to joke that likely I am a little autistic, adding "I'm working on my eye contact," as I make direct eye contact with him. What he says next, is something that I was not prepared for, and something that still baffles me, and possibly always will. "Yeah, you do look a little retarded." Immediately, I burst out into laughter; not because I think what he said was funny, but because I am so bewildered and shocked by what was just said. Eventually, through the laughter tears I am able to get out, "Dude you shouldn't say that to a woman." He insists it was a joke and makes excuses, but I keep laughing, with my hand on the door handle just waiting for a good moment to step out. I repeat that what he said isn't cool, and eventually stop laughing long enough to say, "alright, on that note, I think I should head out." Being friendly, I still ask that he tell me when he gets home since I know he has a longer commute home than I do. I wave goodbye through our car windows.

The formalities are complete; he texts me ever so briefly the next day, respectfully I respond, knowing well I never plan on going out with him again. Then it seems we have a mutual ghosting situation, as I don't try to text him, nor he to me. This day I have another date, and after that one, I have no one that I want to communicate with as that is also a dud. All is good until a few days later when I am out with my friends in Ybor, drunk. I get a text from Timmy* saying "yo." I lament and groan and my friends ask about my reaction. I explain the situation and one of my guy friends asks for my phone. I hand it to him as he starts to text him on my behalf.

My phone is with my friend, but with my Apple Watch, I can see the text conversation and when he is responding. I start yelling "oh god please don't bring him here. I don't want to see this guy." Respecting my wishes, my friend decides to still fuck with him, but prevent this poor soul from spending money on an Uber and coming down.

My friends then send a selfie of themselves, with me not in it, saying "she's with me." I yell at them more saying, let this guy be, just ignore him. However, instead, my friend takes it a step further.

I tell my friend that he was too harsh and that I of course would have told him I wasn't interested, but a lot more mature and kindly. When later I check, understandably Timmy* has unmatched me on Hinge*, likely blocked my number. No loss there though.

#dating #relationships #stpete #hinge #bumble #tinder #tampa #tampabay #clearwater #florida #floridadating

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takerfoxx · 4 years

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FINAL SEASON OF SHE-RA DROPS TOMORROW, SO LET’S REVIVE SOMETHING I HAVEN’T DONE IN A LONG TIME BUT MOST CERTAINLY DESERVES AN ENTRY!

The fav(s) of the day are...

THE SUPER PAL TRIO!

Oh, these three. Never in my life have I connected so strongly to a villainous trio like I have with Catra, Scorpia, and Entrapta. And what’s awesome is that despite their wonderful chemistry as a unit, I fell in love with each character individually for completely different reasons.

SCORPIA!

Scorpia is my favorite She-Ra character, hands’ down. She is just a wonderful ball of sunshine, who, despite her powerful and intimidating appearance, is easily the most kind-hearted person in the show, and the fact that she was raised within the monstrous Horde and rarely doubts their principles only adds to the tragedy of her situation.

Scorpia is the classic brainwashed child soldier, someone who has had their ideology beat into her head since she was a baby, to the point where she cheerfully puts the best spin on the awful things happening around and to her as a defensive mechanism, from her ignorance of what really happened to her family to Catra’s constant abuse of her. She sees the best in people, often to her own detriment, but still refuses to stop doing what she thinks is right. Her obvious crush on Catra shows this, as she tries and tries and tries to stick up for her no matter what Catra does to her, and even after finally realizing what a bad person Catra is refuses to fully give up on her. In a kinder world, she would have grown up as a close friend of the other princesses and be renowned for her legendary kindness.

But not even being trapped in the Horde could keep her down. Despite her naivete, Scorpia finally sees the light in one of the best moments of the show and leaves the Horde. Not, I should point out, because of some earth-shattering revelation of the Horde’s evils, but because she realized that doing so would be the best way to save Entrapta. And after, it doesn’t take her long to endear herself to her former enemies, forming close bonds with Frostra, Perfuma, and Glitter. And even then, she STILL begs them not to hurt Catra, and does what she can to help the other Horde soldiers. Because in the end, all Scorpia wants is what’s best for her friends.

And did I also mention that she fucking kicks as as well? Hell, she 1v1′d SHE-RA! And now that she’s had her upgrade, she might be one of the top five strongest characters on the ground!

I am BRAVE, STRONG, LOYAL, and I give GREAT HUGS

Also...

ENTRAPTA!

Scorpia may be my favorite character, but Princess Entrapta is my spirit animal. The living definition of Chaotic Neutral, Entrapta is a delightfully fun ball of energy and curiosity, and, I must admit, one of the reasons I wanted to check the show out, as I had seen a few clips of her interacting with Hordak and thought it looked intriguing.

Entrapta was a wild ride from the beginning, the classic manic inventor character that makes any scene so much more entertaining by her very presence. And as predicted, her defection to the Horde made sense and gave us a lot of great scenes. And her growing relationship with the normally terrifying Hordak was just great, from how she absolutely refused to be intimidated by him, leading him to be both perplexed and intrigued by her. Things were going just as I had hoped.

And then something magical happened.

It finally clicked with me that she was intended to be coded autistic, and to be quite frank I should have seen it from the beginning, from her single-minded interests to her constant movement with her hair to her awkward ways of interacting with other people to her bizarre food preferences to her unusual way of speaking to her...shaky grasp of morality. But once I saw it, it was obvious, and also made me happy. I mean, it wasn’t like I was over the moon about representation, but after so many other disappointing attempts at autistic characters, it was nice to finally have one that I already liked. Huh, that’s neat, I thought.

But literally the day after I had figured that out I watched the episode about her finding out about Hordak’s weakness and her attempts to help him, and she gave that wonderful speech about how she was well aware that other people saw her as weird, and how beautiful imperfections could be, and oh my God, I have never had any speech by a fictional character hit me right in the heart like that one did. I felt it in my very bones, and from then on I absolutely adored Entrapta. Finally I had someone I could really relate to, even if I don’t particularly like science things and don’t have any hair.

Imperfection is what makes scientific experimentation possible. Imperfection is beautiful... at least to me.

And...

CATRA!

How someone so awful be so sympathetic and compelling?!

Adora might be the show’s main character and hero, but Catra is undeniably its star, a breakout character that has invited the most discussion, most devotion, and the most frustration. Unlike many kid show villains, Catra isn’t just evil because bad guy, but is a plainly damaged person who has suffered horrible physical, emotional, and mental abuse since she was a child and developed a psychology textbook full of insecurities and hang-ups as a result.

With each successive season, we have watched her get consistently worse, as she desperately tries to rebel against the horrible hand she was dealt by getting back at Adora, the favored best friend who left her, against Shadow Weaver, the only mother figure she has ever known but still treated her awfully no matter what she did, and Hordak, who never really gave her the acknowledgement that she felt like she was due. She is so deeply craves validation from those who will never give it while pushing away those who did unconditionally care for her without realizing it. And she had multiple opportunities to break free from the abusive cycle that has defined her life only to double down due to her deep-seated triggers. She is someone who was never given any sort of praise from Shadow Weaver, who openly favored Adora, who in turn betrayed the Horde and “abandoned” Catra, and was still shown favor! She is someone who was prepared to destroy everything and everyone, not in hopes of winning, but just to make Adora lose.

Her breakdowns are increasingly tragic, and the more toxic she gets, the more compelling she becomes. She is a realistic painting of how bad abuse can fuck up a person, a believable victim-turned-abuser, and instead of hating her for all the terrible things she’s done, the whole fandom is praying for her salvation. And despite anything I might have said in the past, I am one of them.

So, what? You're on the side of good now? You made me this way, and you get to be the good guy?

#she ra and the princesses of power #she ra #spop #catra #scorpia #entrapta #super pal trio #fav of the day

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thebarefootking · 4 years

Text

The Rocket Ship

It's a well-observed fact that the strange ones tend to find one another.

We all have heard of cliques in high school (or even earlier) that, over the course of life, individually discover themselves (and often, then, each other) to be queer, neurodivergent, or some other kind of not-normative. Many of us belonged to them.

This is the story of my friend KV and how we fell into mutual weirdness.

KV and I met for the first time in daycare, just before I aged out at ten years old. They were half a year younger than me, and a grade lower in school. (They, like myself at the time, were not out as nonbinary; I didn't know anyone who used singular they pronouns or who was out as nonbinary, or even what that meant, until I was well into adulthood.)

We were fast friends, possibly because neither of us had bonded particularly well with any of the other kids at daycare. Maybe one or two would acknowledge and chat with us at breakfast, but most of our recreation time was spent just the two of us, playing imaginative games among the playground equipment.

The next year, I aged out of the daycare, and KV aged up into the same middle school I attended. I frequently made time to visit their locker between classes, and we grew closer.

One catalyst for this closeness was a number of musicals we performed in together. The first was a local production of Children of Eden which had open casting for children, and which was being directed by a mutual friend of our families. Both of us were accepted into the production.

As the children's cast for this play was only needed for two scenes or so, there was plenty of time to screw around doing whatever we wanted to do (so long as we were quiet about it). There, one of our playground games solidified into a full-on roleplay of sorts, an unending game in which the two of us took the parts of anthropomorphic cat people sent by a rocket ship from the planet Meowmix in the Eukanuba galaxy, in order to complete a long-term recon mission.

It suited our (to this day undiagnosed, but very much present) autistic traits. What autistic person hasn't at least once felt like a different species, trying to learn the culture and habits of Earth's dominant lifeform? We simply made a canon of it, and developed that canon everywhere.

We even had a secret substitution code, full of words that meant other things. "I'm going to buy a pineapple," they would say, before slipping off to use the restroom.

"I'll keep an eye out for sprinkles," I'd reply, and begin to covertly sweep the area for cops/untrustworthy adults/mall security… for some reason.

It was the sort of game that could truly be an artificial context for anything else.

Mostly, though, it tended to be an artificial context for our profound isolation and loneliness, even if we never dared break character long enough to say so to one another. If our alien characters talked about being misunderstood and missing home, it meant we never had to admit to being estranged from our cohort. I, for my part, didn't even admit to myself what emotions we were loading off onto our game.

Besides, our 'Cat-Human' counterparts had something we did not, when it came to that topic: hope of a return to 'normalcy'.

I could write for hours about our game, and all the fun and weird things we got up to. (For a while, our thing was giving individual nickels [which we called 'engravings of Thomas Jefferson'] to random mall-goers, just for the thrill of human interaction, and to see how they would react. Once, one dude gave us an 'engraving of George Washington' in return, for a profit of 20 cents!)

Instead, though, I'll tell you about the ostensible end of the game.

It was another play we were in together, some two years after the first. Both of us had tried out for middle school 'children's' roles in the high school's yearly musical, and gotten our parts. Mine was a major speaking role; theirs was a chorus part. Even so, I still had few enough scenes that we had time to play in between.

Things went pear-shaped, though, in a way I didn't expect. On the first night of the show, KV was dealing with unexpected and intense stage-fright. I walked onto the backstage floor from the back entrance, and half a dozen other kid actors were surrounding them, trying to talk them down from what I now know was either a panic attack or an autistic meltdown. (Maybe both! Hell knows I sometimes can't tell the difference in my own.)

I told all the other actors to back off and give them some space, and then I moved in to check on them. They were speaking rapidly and almost incoherently about there being too many humans in the audience, and how they weren't ready to be seen. They were talking to me as if still in the game.

And I, twelve-year-old that I was, and in an empathic panic on their account, didn't understand.

I didn't know that they were communicating their emotions about the impending performance in the only way they knew how (that being, through the game we had both used for so long to frame our emotions). I thought they were confusing the game with reality. I thought that they were legitimately convinced they were a humanoid cat alien and that the Earthling audience was dangerous.

And with about twenty seconds to go before our scene, I was pissed. They picked now to play a stupid game?

I snapped on them. "It's not real, KV. You're not a freaking cat person. You're a human, and you already committed to doing this show. No one here is dangerous. There's just you, and you've done plays with a way bigger audience than this, before."

I didn't stop to think that this role was much more intricate than most they had performed before. Or that it was much closer to home, with their father leading the pit orchestra below, and likely with their entire extended family watching. Or any of the other reasons they might have had on this particular night that I couldn't know about. It didn't even occur that I was taking away their last support in the face of sheer panic.

In my opinion at the time, they were just being childish. And I let them know it, as viciously as I could manage in fifteen seconds. Then I pushed them into the lineup, went to my own spot, and seethed.

Really, I thought, how dare they try to use our game as a way to avoid responsibility?

We didn't talk much for a while after that.

Thankfully, it was a short while, and -- somehow; I have no idea how -- we eventually came up with a new game. Somehow -- I have no idea how -- we fell into a solid friendship again, if a slightly more formal one.

After all, we had to hold the fort; both of us were the topic of bitter rumours, usually about our sexualities and what we did with them. (Oddly, despite us both being rumoured to be lesbians, no one ever rumoured that we were together. I suspected it was because of the class year difference, but it's more likely because we each had closer friends that filled the rumour role better.)

At any rate, things moved along, all the way past my graduation from high school. Even then, I frequented the school football games, just to hang around the band, in which they played the saxophone. (This irritated KV’s father, the band director, to no end! haha)

And one night, at a house party one of our mutual friends was hosting, they verbally pulled me aside. We moved to an out-of-the-way porch swing in a darkened corner of the yard. For a while, we just played catch-up; there had been something of a lull in our friendship, just on account of scheduling. And then,

"There’s something I wanted to tell you. I'm a lesbian."

We were both silent for a moment.

"I know," I eventually admitted. Because I did; there had been too many hints for too long. Even beyond just rumour.

This, in retrospect, was a fucking shitty way to respond, but they took it in stride. After another silence, they prodded me further. "And what do you think about that?"

"I think it's a sin. But I still care about you, and this doesn't change my opinion of you."

Again, a shitty thing to say.

"Well," they said. "It's just... how I am."

I really can't overstate how unfailingly kind and polite they were to me, when I very much did not deserve it. Maybe they were trying to salvage the friendship. I don't know for sure. For my part, I just assumed that being gay meant you weren't trying hard enough. After all, I was attracted to girls, too, and I wasn't gay. Right?

Not that I said that to them. We didn't really hang out much after that, and they soon moved away for college.

College, and then the subsequent year and a half spent living away from my family, had an enormous impact on my views toward many things, but sexuality in particular. Eventually, I was able to apologise, some time after I got kicked out of my parents' house for coming out as bisexual. (Surprise!) We discovered at that point that we had both drifted away from Christianity in favor of eclectic paganism.

We've been oddly in step, that way.

When I told them recently that I was nonbinary, they told me that they were as well. Later, when they came to town, we got Mexican food and had a long talk, during which we discovered that we are both neurodivergent, and in some extremely similar ways… which caused us both to drop out of college.

We each finally got a cat, which we'd both been wanting for years.

Halfway through lunch, KV said one of the most weirdly intimate things I've ever had said to me: "If there was anyone on Earth I was drift-compatible with, it'd be you."

It was blown away for a second or so; that's like admitting to a form of soulmatedom. But then… I got it, y'know?

Because, honestly, there's no one I've been more understood by than them, even if we sometimes had to create a new language to make it happen.

I wish I got to see them more frequently. I feel like I can appreciate them now in a way I didn't know how to before. I haven't been the best friend to them; in fact, I've been downright abhorrent at times. But I think I can make it up, now.

#a year of writing #03102020 #homophobia #biphobia #internalised biphobia #antiautistic ableism #actuallyautistic #long post #in which lauren is NOT the hero of the story >_>

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somethingnurseywoulddo · 5 years

Text

reasons he can’t explain. also on AO3

When he was a newborn, just a tiny little thing, his papa placed a hockey puck on top of his butt. With wide eyes and chubby limbs, he simply wiggled his behind back and forth, slowly scootching forward. Jack’s little brain didn’t comprehend the joy he felt in that moment, for he was a baby, but Jack would grow up, continuing to be a little bit odd like that.

As he aged, Jack found habits and sensations that made him feel oddly satisfied. For example, when he was three, Jack found the best thing on the planet: peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. The sticky peanut butter, the sweet jam (that balanced out the salt of peanuts well), and the thick bread all mashed together made for the perfect combination. When no other food could settle on his sensitive palate, a classic pb&j always calmed his senses.

It didn’t end there, however. Because a few years later, his grandmother bought Jack the softest, warmest (and heaviest) blanket Jack had ever felt. After a full day of errands, a stressful practice, or whatever life threw at him, Jack would race up the stairs (on all fours, like a horse, no less), flop into bed, and then proceed to wrap himself (like a burrito) within the blanket. For reasons Jack couldn’t explain, he would settle down underneath the weight. Even though physically he was under pressure, his mental worries would drift far away, and he’d be able to relax again. Jack would lay there for hours, sometimes until his mother would knock on his door, alerting him that dinner was ready.

When Jack mentions his adoration for routine to his teammates, or his favorite activity (outside of hockey) being wrapped up in his blanket (maybe with earbuds in, listening to a history podcast), they all laugh it off. It’s like none of them enjoy anything like that. (He tries not to let it bother him, but it still digs a hole into his chest).

_________

At thirteen years old, Jack knows his father’s legacy. He knows that he too, is going to have to live up to that standard. Even at this early stage of life, Jack is forced into high class social situations and interactions (due to his parent’s status’).

Every single situation he’s forced to go to is literal hell for Jack. He’ll do close to anything in an excuse to escape the get togethers. Having to make eye contact with people he hardly knows, and also create small talk is stressful enough to make Jack shut down; it drains the energy out of him like running a marathon. In one evening alone, Jack has to take at least five trips to the bathroom in order to calm himself down, focus back on reality, and place back on an extroverted facade.

Not only does Jack have to make eye contact and engage in conversation, but he’s forced to listen to twenty plus more conversations and the general party sounds that come with socializing. He clenches his fists, cracks his knuckles, and squeezes his hands to try and calm down. Hopefully, no one notices his pale face, stiff hands, and run offs to the restroom; Jack thinks at least his mother has noticed.

These nights, Jack doesn’t even bother listening to history podcasts, he simply cuddles up underneath his blanket, and falls asleep without saying a word. It happens often. The no-speak aspect, not just the parties, where he becomes so overloaded, he doesn’t even have the energy to speak. He thinks clearly, but he can push no more than a word or two past his lips.

On the occasional, blessed nights where there is no party or practice, Jack’s favorite thing to do is sit on the living room couch, watching a history document. Hours upon hours, he’ll sit there, snapping his fingers, shaking his feet, and hum along to facts he finds interesting within the document. Thankfully, his parents don’t seem to mind, and they let him continue to relax in his own way.

_________

At fifteen, when life and hockey become a little too stressful (with the Q’s arrival and his family hosting another Q player. His name is Kent Parson), he begins to freak out even more than he typically does. His mother suggests seeing a doctor to get tested for anxiety (because he has been showing symptoms for years); the diagnosis comes back positive, and he’s given medicine that’s supposed to help ease his anxiety.

It seems to do its job, the medicine that is, at reducing his irrational thoughts and do-it-all-to-the-point-of-failure ideals, but besides that, it doesn’t even help him get rid of his hatred for bad textures, or the obscenely loud noises, or unfairly awkward social interactions. Brushing aside the annoyance of still having those hinderances, Jack does his best to put everything into hockey. Even his (very complex) relationship with Kenny revolves around hockey.

At first, Kenny had been a distraction from the hectic schedule hockey entailed. They could sit in bed, making out, letting off steam, for hours on end, however, after (almost) two years of a relationship with Kenny, it’s become one of his sources of anxiety.

(for starters, he and Kent are constantly at odds with one another. Kent starts up useless drama to fluster (frustrate) Jack, then kiss him to shut Jack up. He and Kent were up against each other for the number one pick, and it made things stressful. When Jack would want to curl under his blanket and clench his fists, Kent would grab his hands and sweet talk Jack into something more than lying in bed. To add on top of everything, being gay in the NHL is an instant career ender, and with the way he and Kent are going, things wouldn’t end well).

Eventually, the stress of it all became too much to handle. When one pill failed to calm his nerves, he took another, and another, and another. Next thing Jack knows, he’s lying in a hospital bed, his mother holding his hand, and his father the other.

_________

In the time that follows Jack’s accident (cause it was an accident, he just wanted to settle down), he coaches a peewee hockey team. It’s exactly what Jack needs. Where the Q had sucked the joy out of hockey, his peewee team replaced with a rekindled adoration for the sport. And what’s not to love about hockey? Even the sound of the puck is soothing, and the feel of flying over ice is healing.

Jack tries not to pick favorite students within his team, but there is a little boy who snags Jack’s attention. He’s awkward, struggles to socialize with the other teammates, and can’t look Jack in the eye. It feels familiar to him. He realizes, it’s because he sees himself within the boy. When the kid gets a goal, he flaps his arms, spins in circles, and squeals. Jack in turn, cheers the kid on by pumping his fists, and jumping up in down. It feels nice, that even this kid is more than half his age, he can connect so well with the boy. (even to this day, they stay in contact. The kid just signed, too!).

However, Jack realizes he’s ready to start playing hockey himself. Jack decides college is a good place to pick up life again. He applies to Samwell University and gets accepted.

At first, it’s slightly awkward, playing on a team again that is, but Jack thinks this is the place for him. One of the other freshman Jack met instantly latched onto him. Not just emotionally, but literally in a physical manner. The dude, Knight, loves to hug, cuddle, and fist bump Jack any chance he gets. During the first few months, Jack finds it weird, but eventually he begins to notice the comfort brought on by his new best friend (a best friend he’s never had one before). The weight of another person snuggling up next to Jack reminds him of his heavy blanket, so he begins to welcome the hugs with open arms (haha no pun intended). So after a long day, instead of curling up with his blanket and a podcast, he instead is wrapped in his best friends arms, listening to him rant about his latest drama or classes.

In his latest class, which is some kind of psychology study, (while they snuggle) he begins to rant about the ableist culture autistic people face. Normally, Jack isn’t one to engage his ears in actually listening, but what he’s hearing sounds…. Familiar.

“Yeah, and so many autistic people grow up without even realizing they’re autistic! Doctors typically misdiagnose and say it��s anxiety because they don’t care about autism. And while yeah, you can have anxiety and autism, doctors still don’t like to admit a patient might have autism.”

Jack sits there, dumbfounded. He himself has been to several doctors who’ve said he has anxiety, but could there be more to this?

He’s zoning out hard time, he knows this, but thinking about all the possibilities is nerve wracking. If there is anybody on the planet Jack can be open with, it’s with his best friend. Taking a few calculating breaths, he squeezes his hands together, then begins to speak.

“Hey- uh, about the, uh, autism thing. Do you know how people can get fully diagnosed?”

“Yeah man! I know a guy! Why you ask?”

“Oh. Well, I think that I also may have autism. The things you said about it applies to everything I’ve gone through.”

“Dude! That makes so much sense! If you want I can go with you?”

He considers it for a moment “I’d love that, actually. Thank you.”

_________

Together, they go to the doctors. Despite doubts Jack had about really being autistic, he’s officially diagnosed with autism. The doctor explains it’s the reason Jack is picky with foods and sounds, why looking people in the eye and making small talk is so draining, how being under heavy weights or messing with his hands and jumping (also known as stimming) makes him feel better. It just makes sense. How Jack is in his twenties and only just now being diagnosed, will never make sense. However, he’s thankful to finally have answers for his questions.

It takes a while for Jack to learn the insides and outs of his condition, to accept this is apart of who he is. But eventually, as the days get longer, life gets sweeter, and friends closer, Jack begins to share this part of himself. Becoming so open about autism ended up helping another teammate too (chowder).

While life is a hard fought battle, Jack finds it’s safe to say he’s at a point of loving, and embracing himself. All of himself.

#autistic jack zimmermann #autistic headcanon #omgcp #omgcheckplease #check please #Check Please!#omgcp fic #omgcp fanfic #jack zimmermann #not my best work for reasons explained on ao3 I just wanna provide more autistic jack content #also mentioned characters being:#shitty knight #kent parson #(his is brief)#alicia zimmermann #bob zimmermann

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thechangeling · 3 years

Text

Enough.

So a while ago I made a headcannon post about Ty's sexuality and the autistic exploration of sex and sexual desire. I have now written a fic about it. This ones for Alex @bedspells my very own Alyssa. Also side note I want to make it clear that yes, I still ship kitty 100%. But I've seen plenty of people write fics and headcannons about Kit exploring things with other people. There's no reason why Ty can't do the same.

Edit: Ok a long time ago this fic actually got a hate comment on Ao3 saying that I was erasing Ty's sexuality by having him hook up with a girl because he was cannonly gay due to a tweet CC made in 2013. Now I don't even have twitter and I wasn't a part of the fandom back then. Despite all of that I actually don't really consider that to be the basis of canon? And in the books he doesn't really express interest in anyone except for Kit. So as far as I'm concerned this was fair game. Not to mention gay people sometimes experiment before they realize they're gay. Especially autistic people!! And that was actually kind of the point of this fic. So maybe just keep that in mind going forward. Thanks!

Tw for mentions and discussions of sex.

Ty could count the instances he hadn't been bothered by another person's touch on one hand. This was certainly one of them. It was so late into the night it could certainly be considered the next morning. Anush, Ty and Alyssa had been doing research on Livvy and the effect she seemed to be having on a serge of demonic activity in the area.

Ty was fairly stressed about the possibility to say the least. It felt like everything was spilling away from him. Livvy, his family, his career.

Kit.

He really didn't want to think about Kit but it was difficult. It was like trying to ignore a bleeding wound that everyone kept referring to as a paper cut.

The shining lights in all of this were Anush and Alyssa. Befriending both of them had been the best part of coming to the scholomance.

Especially Alyssa.

Meeting someone who shared some of his thoughts, feelings and experiences was more then refreshing. It was liberating. Talking, laughing and crying with Alyssa about the things that no one else would understand was like a balm for Ty's soul.

At a certain point Anush had announced that he was retiring to bed and they should both probably do the same. Livvy was still floating around the room observing their work. But as time went on Ty had stopped paying as much attention to her. Now he was resting against Alyssa with his head in her lap. She was sitting on the couch in the library, carefully running her fingers through his hair and rambling on about something, Ty wasn't exactly sure what.

Ty reached up to wrap a lock of her long dark hair around his finger, then watched it spring back into place again. Alyssa's hair was wavy but not curly like- like some peoples. So it didn't spring and bounce very well. That was the interesting thing about Ali in general. So many parts of her dress and appearance were so neat and polished and well put together that Ty almost wondered what it would be like to see her more disheveled. What would it be like to grab and twist and pull until she was left with something that wasn't glossy perfect waves.

Ty panicked a little at that thought. Where exactly had that come from? He was now more then ever painfully aware of the fact that he was lying in an attractive person's lap. And his sister was still in the same room.

Ty looked up to search for Livvy but realized that she was gone. Guiltily he realized she could have been gone for awhile now. But he hadn't noticed. Lately he had been feeling further and further away from his twin and he hated it.

"Do you think stars have feelings?" Alyssa asked wistfully. Ty laughed joyfully, feeling so light and and so far away from every bad thing that had happened three years ago.

"Because I was just thinking," she continued. "Like, what if they're lonley you know?" Ty had to smile at the Alyssa charm of it all. Also the autistic perspective might have had something to do with it.

"I don't know," Ty said, sitting up. "Maybe they're like us. Maybe they like being alone." Alyssa pondered this for awhile.

"Well no one can be alone forever," she pointed out, then laughed, rolling her eyes. "God how did we get here? Remember when we were supposed to be doing actual work Ty?"

"Well we were stupid to think that would last," Ty announced matter of factly. Alyssa shrugged and leaned back against the sofa.

"Probably. Once the neurotypical left it was all downhill from there."

"I disagree, Ty said softly, meeting her gaze. "I enjoy spending time with you." Alyssa instantly smiled, the kind of beautiful, honest, heartfelt smile that allistic people wrote poetry about.

Instantly Ty was reminded of someone else, another brilliant smile.

He shook it off.

"Me too," Alyssa finally answered. Then she shook her head. "Ugh feelings. Gross."

Ty rolled his eyes at her and laughed.

Then Alyssa sat up again as she seemed to remember something. "Oh yeah I meant to ask you about Anush. Do you like him?"

Ty shrugged. "Yeah he's really nice. He's become a good friend."

Alyssa shook her head. "No, no Ty, I mean-" She paused. "I mean do you like him like you wanna date him? Or do you have romantic feelings for him?" She asked.

Ty paused. He honestly wasn't sure. He had been trying to avoid thoughts of those types of feelings for a very specific reason. A Herondale reason. But the truth was he did like really like Anush. He enjoyed being around him. Ty just wasn't sure what that meant.

"I'm not sure," he answered honestly. "Maybe." Alyssa fiddled with her hair, rubbing it between her fingers.

"Hmm. Well do you even like boys?" She asked. "I just realised I've known you for five months now and I dont really know what your deal is," she said contemplating. "Like sexual orientation wise. I mean not that it matters, it totally doesn't," she stammered.

Ty shrugged. "It was never really relevant before. But I'm not really sure. I guess I'm fine with whatever." Alyssa beamed.

"So I guess that means you're kinda like me huh? She said happily. "I'm pansexual. Women are so beautiful and angelic and soft and squishy and awesome, but men can be good too," she mused. "I mean men are......men, but some of them aren't so bad. I mean look at you!" Alyssa tossed her hair back over her shoulder.

"Thanks," Ty responded dryly.

"Anyways you know what I mean," Alyssa waved her hand. "So are you attracted to him at least?" Ty sighed.

"Yeah I am," he admitted. "But I don't- I don't want a relationship Ali. I just can't."

Alyssa studied him for a moment. "Does this have anything to do with the Herondale pendent you wear that you always tell me never to ask questions about?"

Ty scowled. "Yes, but I don't want to talk about it." Alyssa rolled her eyes and put her hands up in surrender.

"Fucking shit fuck! Fine!" She complained. "Anyways, my point is you dont need to date him neccesarily. Just have sex with him and see how you feel?"

Ty sat up and faced her. "What?"

Alyssa laughed. "You heard me. There's nothing wrong with causal sex between consenting adults. I mean, if you want to."

Ty felt the urge to stand up to try and aliviate some of the anxiety he was feeling, but he stayed sitting.

"I've never done it before," he admitted. Ty was 19, he knew most of the people his age had already had some sort of sexual experience. But he had always been too afraid. Too afraid of people touching him and demanding things from him with harsh vague bullshit. In Ty's mind it was just another social interaction that he could screw up and then pay the price for it.

Alyssa shrugged. "It's no big deal. Virginity is just a social construct anyways." Alyssa was playing with her hair casually and biting her lip slightly, to indicate that she was mulling something over.

Ty shook his head trying to explain it. "No, it's- I mean see, you say that, but, one of the things I've learned about this world is that social constructs kind of matter to a lot of people." Ty was taping his fingers against his leg and trying to stop himself from shaking. Alyssa noticed this.

"Because people tell you that's it's no big deal and not to worry, and then other people make it into a big deal like it means something, and then everyone's telling you to do something different," Ty explained with a panicked, rushed voice. "I don't know who you listen to, or what to do!" He was moving his hands frantically while he spoke to emphasize his points.

"Hey it's ok," she cooed, inching towards him. "Trust yourself. Or if you feel like you can't, then trust me." Ty felt a pang in his chest. A cacophony of conflicting emotions erupted within him. But mostly he found that despite his better judgement he actually believed her.

They had created something different between the two of them. Something that almost transcended labels or rules or traditional allistic boundaries. Alyssa was like the armor he put on every morning, with the strength and confidence that he wasn't alone in this world. In the midst of all of their jokes and late night heartbreaking conversations. In the midst of this fragile peace they had created, there was something there. Something indescribable.

Something like the sound of the page being turned in one of his Sherlock novels, or the sound of their favourite songs. A connection. A lifeline.

Ty looked over at Alyssa's concerned face and smiled softly. "I trust you," he promised. "I don't really trust many people, but I've always trusted you," he admitted. Alyssa inhaled sharply. She made an interesting facial expression that might have been a facial stim and then gaped for awhile before finally closing her mouth and avoiding Ty's gaze.

"Yeah that's cool. I trust you too," she said casually. She had gone back to pulling at her poor hair which was shedding everywhere. Anush always joked that he could always tell where Alyssa was by following the trail of hair.

"So, about the whole sex thing," she continued rather unceremoniously. Ty had to laugh a little. "Do you think it's something you're actually interested in? Or do you just feel like you have to?" She asked.

Ty pondered this for a moment. "I think I might want to. I just want to be with someone that I trust. Someone who will be considerate of my boundries, you know?" Ty did a quick glance around the room to make sure Livvy was still gone.

"Wait she's not here right?" Alyssa asked anxiously, catching on. Ty shook his head.

Alyssa paused for a moment, looking lost in thought. She was flicking her fingernails against each other and continuing to murder her bottom lip by chewing on it. Finally she looked up at him, looking rather amused.

"Ok. This might just be the exhaustion talking, or the autism, or a combination of both. So if you feel uncomfortable with what I'm about to say, then afterwards we can just forget it ok?" Alyssa sounded serious. Ty just nodded, trying not to be concerned.

Alyssa gave him an interesting look, one that he was pretty sure he had never recieved before. Her eyes scanned him up and down, then she smirked.

"I could potentially offer my services," she said innocently. Ty blinked a few times, then continued to stare at her. She stared back unflinching.

Wait. What?

Ty shook his head in confusion. "Hold on. Wait. You mean-?" He cut himself off. Alyssa nodded with that same smirk. "Yeah I mean why not right?" She shrugged, relaxing back against the sofa. "But if you dont want to then that's totally fine."

"Wait." Ty attempted to clear his head and stay focused. He stayed frozen for awhile, thinking. Then he folded his arms around himself, applying pressure. "Why exactly?"

Alyssa shrugged again. "Well why not? You're hot. I'm hot, and besides you know me," she pointed out. She paused, and then giggled.

"Four hours into investigating the paranormal phenomenon of his dead twin sister and chill, then she offers to take his virginity," she cackled. "I so enjoy our quality time together."

"The way your mind works really concerns me sometimes, you know that?" He asked playfully. Alyssa rolled her eyes at him and shoved him gently.

"Hey you don't have to, it was just an idea," she said, raising her hands in defense. Ty was silent. He was still thinking about it.

"Most people don't really do stuff like this right?" He asked warily. "Like most friends don't just randomly hook up and then laugh it off later."

Alyssa shook her head slowly. "Honey do you see me laughing?"

Ty was conflicted. There was something in him, a new, complicated feeling. A burning desire that nagged at the back of his mind everytime Alyssa bit her lip or pouted.

If he was really honest with himself. Ty could remember another time when he felt this way. But that was different, that was-.

He shook his head. No. Ty wasn't thinking about that anymore. He needed a distraction.

"God I can practically hear you thinking over here Ty," Alyssa teased. "Listen. If it freaks you out to much then we can forget about it. But-." She paused and reached towards him. Their fingertips met and she slowly dragged her fingertips down the top of Ty's hand.

"I want to do this for you because I care about you," she said solemnly. "I want make you feel good. Because you're special, and I dont mean that in the bullshit ableist way. I mean I think that you're special because you have such a big heart and you care so much," she said with a laugh.

Ty felt like he was about to cry. He was taking in long deep breaths trying not to get overwhelmed. He didnt know how to respond to this, this kind of attention and praise. His heart felt warm and tight absorbed in so much fondness and melancholy and regret all at once.

He knew this wasn't anything like what had happened that day on the beach. This wasn't that kind of love that he was feeling for Alyssa and that was a good thing. Romantic love, he decided, was too complicated.

"You deserve good things and good experiences. You deserve to have your first time be somewhere familiar. Somewhere you feel safe, and with someone who loves you." Alyssa wiped her eyes on the back of her hand.

"God sorry for getting all emotional like that," she joked.

Ty couldn't speak, so he just squeezed her hand. He hoped she would understand.

I love you too.

Ty took a breath, then nodded. "Yeah," he admitted. "Yeah I want that. I want you."

Alyssa exhaled, then grinned. "Ok then. Great. I'll see if I can pencil you in sometime this week," she joked. Ty cocked his head to the side in confusion.

"Oh," he murmered, suprised with how disappointed he felt. "You mean later?" Alyssa laughed.

"Well yeah, I mean aren't you tired?"

"Are you?" Ty countered.

Alyssa shrugged. "Hey you know how it is, autistic sleep cycle. I'm gonna be up for awhile. I just figured you might want some time to think."

Ty shook his head. "No I don't want to think anymore. I'm tired of thinking Ali. I'm tired of worrying and overanalyzing everything." His eyes met hers, she seemed a little worried.

She moved closer to him so that she was practically in his lap. "You need a distraction," she said matter of factly. "It's ok." She moved her hands from his arms to grasp his waist.

"Is this good?"

Ty flinched. "More pressure," he replied in a tone that was hopefully not too demanding. Alyssa pressed her fingertips down harder into his skin. A soothing feeling washed over him.

"Good?" She asked, scratching his skin with her fingernails. Ty just nodded, feeling slightly dazed.

Alyssa smiled, lowering herself gracefully into his lap. Everything she did was with precision and grace. Alyssa was a dancer. It was one of her special interests. She had stopped taking lessons a long time ago though because she found it challenging to dance in a group.

She could never copy what everyone else was doing exactly on count when she was supposed to. She was always going off and improvising on her own. There was probably a metaphor in there somewhere.

Alyssa's weight against him was comforting. She was moving her hands up and down his back underneath his shirt while still applying pressure. Ty felt heat beginning to pool in the base of his stomach. He stared at her curiously, taking in her soft curves and her smooth golden skin.

"Can I touch you?" Ty asked, feeling his fingers twitch.

Alyssa moved her hands to his chest. "Sure." She said softly. "Just be careful. Remember pressure and all of that, and try to avoid my stomach area. For some reason it's really sensitive." Ty nodded, instantly reaching for her long wavy dark hair and twisting his fingers around it, pulling slightly. She laughed.

This drew Ty's attention to her mouth. Her lips were cracked and rough looking from Alyssa constantly biting them, but Ty still wanted to kiss her. He had never kissed anyone before. He needed to know what it felt like.

He moved his hands to her shoulders and then to her sides, pulling Alyssa even closer. "Can you teach me how to kiss?" He asked looking her in the eye briefly. She snorted.

"I don't think you'll like it very much," she murmered. "It's not really a good sensory experience. At least not for me. Allistic people seem to like it though."

Ty nodded. "Exactly that's my point," he said, using one hand to cradle the side of her neck. "I need to learn for other people later on." He absentmindedly pressed his thumb into one of the divots in her neck, just to fill the space. Alyssa sighed and dug her fingernails into his chest.

"Ok fine but you're gonna hate the tounge thing," she breathed. She leaned down very slowly and then carefully pressed her lips to Ty's, kissing him softly.

It was a weird sensation but not entirely unpleasant. Ty happily slid his hands back into her hair and began to fiddle with a few thick pieces. Alyssa moved her own hands up his chest to cradle her face, applying pressure with thumbs against his cheekbones.

Alyssa deepened the kiss and slid her tounge into his mouth. Instantly Ty winced and felt every cell in his body seize up. But he didn't stop. He was determined to figure this out. If he wanted to kiss someone who wasn't autistic in the future then he would need to. Ty relaxed his body and kissed her back forcefully, making out with Alyssa until the uncomfortable noise in his head was too much and he broke the kiss.

Ty shook his head and Ali laughed, stroking his hair. "I fucking told you so," she exclaimed. Ty shut his eyes and allowed his breathing to return to normal.

"Ok so that's something we can forget about for now, thank god. The beauty of this whole situation is that we dont have to follow any allistic script for this sort of thing." Ty opened his eyes. Alyssa was watching him carefully, still only centimeters away from his face.

"So is there anything you want to do?" She asked him. "Just tell me and I'll see if we can make it happen."

Ty saw no need to maintain any sort of filter. "Well there are a lot of things actually, but for some reason I really want to bite you," he said pointedly, glancing down at her neck. Alyssa burst out laughing, nearly falling over.

Ty glared at her. "I'm sorry," she gasped breathlessly. "I'm sorry it's just,-," she regained her composure, shaking her head. "I just love how we all used to be the weird kids who growled and hissed at people on the playground if they bothered us and now as adults we're just super kinky. Like it's kind of poetic in a way," she laughed.

Ty rolled his eyes. There was no need to ask what she meant by we. When Alyssa said we, it only referred to one thing.

"I'm sure it's not absolutely every autistic person," he protested. "Also we should move, on account of the fact that this is still a public setting." Alysza's eyes widened as if she had just remembered that.

"Oh right. Shit, as if these people needed any more reasons to hate me. Let's go!" She rolled off of Ty and stood in front if him, holding out her hand. "We can use my room." Ty stayed sitting, taking a moment to fully absorb it all.

He couldn't help but feel the weight of the Herondale pendent against his chest as a heavy reminder. He willed himself not to get distracted. Alyssa smiled at him slightly, almost as if she knew.

"Enough," she said softly.

Ty didn't know what to say to that. He wasn't even sure if their was anything he wanted say. Then finally he understood.

"Enough," he echoed back.

He took her outstretched hand and let her take him away.

@ti-bae-rius @eutony-in-whisper @dianasarrow @dianasarrow @stxr-thxif @talia-lightwood @doitforthecarstairs @thelandunderthehilll @zfoxdraws @waterlillies

#tda #the dark artifices #tsc #twp #the wicked powers #ty blackthorn #Alyssa Reyes #autistic representation #Fae's oc

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yastaghr · 4 years

Text

Broken Things Shine Brighter 18

Here’s the next chapter of BTSB. The name thing was getting too hard, so I fixed it! Enjoy!

Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/13431909/chapters/56179339

Blue didn’t know which felt weirder; the emotions rushing through him that weren’t his own, or the rubbing of the bandages on his newly injured chest. Neither hurt exactly, but Blue knew that was because of the pain medicine he was now on. Apparently enough time had passed for the monsters in Dr. Undyne’s care to mass produce the first aid supplies that had been so lacking when he first arrived.

And hadn’t that been a surprise to the rest of the Underground. Not only had most of those monsters survived, but they had formed a tight-knit community that actually cared about one another. They even cared about the rest of the Underground, and they were slowly teaching them how to love again.

Blue was doing that job, too. He’d been doing that before the Day of Freedom, but now it was much more organized. It had been a few days since then, and he was still working on Sans. The other had some… odd ideas about how this whole soulmate thing was supposed to work.

At first Blue had thought that these were just the standards of his world, but Muffet had set him straight. “I don’t know what he’s thinking,” she had said when Blue had asked her why Sans kept refusing his contact. “Soulmates are supposed to touch and care for one another, even outside the home.”

That had opened Blue up to the realization that Sans was uncomfortable. He’d tried to speak to him about it, but he hadn’t even been able to get past his name before Sans had winced. That had spun around inside of Blue’s head for hours, and he finally had his conclusion.

Blue sat up in his little cot, which Papyrus had helped him move into Sans’ room. He took in the room itself. It reminded him of his brother’s, but it also reminded him of his own. The walls were bare and the floor was strewn with socks, but there was a table with action figures, a computer, and a racecar bed. The bookcase that had been in his brother’s room was replaced with the chest of drawers from his. All in all, it looked lived in and loved.

Sans was currently laying in his bed, staring up at the ceiling instead of sleeping despite the late hour. Blue crawled out of bed and over to his side, carefully not touching him. Sans shifted so he was looking down at him. Blue couldn’t read his expression, but he could feel his curiosity.

“YES? WHAT IS IT?” Sans asked as quietly as he could.

“i think i’ve realized something that could help you. you don’t like your name, do you? you’ve been flinching every time i say it ever since we were bonded.”

Sans froze, his soul radiating startlement and confusion. Blue could see and feel the wheels turning in his head. Then he felt the realization hit Sans. It felt like the truth. “I… I BELIEVE YOU’RE RIGHT. HOW STRANGE. I’VE NEVER HAD PROBLEMS WITH IT BEFORE. WHY WOULD IT HURT ME NOW?”

Blue shrugged. “my guess is that all the times that she said it when she was hurting you have finally added up. and maybe there’s a little bit of… i don’t even know what to call it… but some kind of emotion about the fact that it’s my name, too.”

His soulmate considered this. Then he nodded. “I SUPPOSE THAT MAKES SENSE. AFTER EVERYTHING SHE DID EVEN THE MAGNIFICENT… ME… IS BOUND TO HAVE SOME… WHAT DO THE HUMANS CALL IT? AH, YES. TRIGGERS. HER DAMNED CONTRACT SUPPRESSED THEM UNTIL NOW. IT IS UNFORTUNATE THAT ONE OF THEM HAS TURNED OUT TO BE MY OWN NAME.”

“yeah, but at least it’s an easy one to fix. all we need to do is find you a nickname, like mine. do you have any ideas?” Blue asked.

“HMM,” Sans considered this, “I DO NOT. MAYBE ANOTHER COLOUR? I’LL ADMIT I WOULD LIKE TO MATCH WITH YOU IN SOME WAY, AND THAT SEEMS THE EASIEST WAY TO DO SO. MAYBE SOMETHING BASED ON MY MAGIC?”

Blue hummed and pulled out his phone. “let me look up some better names than just reddish purple. you’re a magnificent monster. you deserve a magnificent name.”

Sans smiled at him, that giddy little smile that Blue was coming to love. It always accompanied a happy little surge… and a bit of humbleness, which was odd when you realized that the easiest way to make it happen was to compliment him. Blue wondered if his brother had felt the same way. Probably. He knew that both Sans and Blue’s Papyrus shared one thing; they were both autistic. There were a hundred little things that told him so, from their obsession with their favorite outfit to their speech patterns. Some people might read them as arrogant, but he knew better. They just were uncomfortable with their words and tried to hide that by being over the top confident. He didn’t think there was anything wrong with that. In fact, he thought it was cute.

Speaking of cute, Blue landed on the perfect site to supply him with names. It was a colour matcher from a paint salesman. He held it up triumphantly. “here! this site matches up your magic colour with the names of different paints in the same family. this will be perfect! summon something. uh, please?”

Sans laughed. His laugh was some weird mix of a giggle and a chuckle. It was cute and perfectly him. He summoned a little bone. It burned with raw magic, the kind that was inefficient on purpose to make the room warmer. “WILL THIS SUFFICE?”

Blue nodded and held up his phone, snapping a picture of Sans’ magic. The little wheel of doom spun, then a palette of colors popped up in front of him. He tried them out. “um… how about wine?”

Sans shook his head. “TOO FORMAL. BESIDES, DOCTOR WINE SOUNDS ABOUT AS FAKE AS YOU CAN GET.”

Blue moved on to the next one. “okay then. garnet, maybe?”

“NO,” Sans decided after a moment, “THAT FEELS A LITTLE TOO FEMININE FOR ME. WHAT’S NEXT?”

“raspberry?” Blue said hopefully.

Sans hesitated. He seemed to like it, but… “THAT IS TOO LONG. I’M USED TO JUST ONE SYLLABLE. WHAT IF WE SHORTENED IT TO RAZZ?”

Blue’s face lit up. “that sounds perfect! it’s got a nice ring to it and it matches your magic colour. plus, it’s such a luxury item. raspberries were super rare back home, and they were always expensive. that’s perfect for someone as majestic as you!”

“THE MAGNIFICENT RAZZ,” his soulmate said, “I LIKE IT… THANK YOU, BLUE. YOU SOLVED A PROBLEM I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW I HAD BEFORE IT GOT TOO BIG TO DEAL WITH. FOR THAT, I AM GRATEFUL.”

Blue beamed at him. He knew he could do it. “of course, razz. now, let’s get some actual sleep before we tell everyone in the morning.”

=====

Razz couldn’t be nervous. He was a magnificent skeleton, truly smart, brave, and loyal. So there was no way that he was nervous about this. He was only going to talk to his brother! That wasn’t scary at all! RIght?

Blue sensed his internal conflict and stopped moving. Razz bumped into the back of him. He glared at Blue when the other turned to face him, but his heart wasn’t in it. He just wanted to see Blue’s cheeky smile again. He loved it. It made Blue’s whole face light up with hidden laughter. If there was any expression that Razz wanted to see on his face, it was that smile.

“heh. someone’s eager to get this going. what do you think your brother’s going to say?”

Razz straightened. “WELL, OBVIOUSLY HE IS GOING TO BE IMPRESSED WITH THE PERFECTION OF MY NEW NAME! IT IS TRULY MAGNIFICENT AND WORTHY OF SUCH A GREAT MONSTER AS MYSELF!”

The next voice that spoke wasn’t one he expected. “what kind of perfection? physical? auditory? emotional?”

Razz spun around. Coming down the stairs behind him with a very familiar grin on his skull was his brother, Papyrus. He looked unnaturally tense for someone who was usually so relaxed. Seeing his brother like that made Razz’s own defences rise. He swallowed his nerves and said, “HAVEN’T I TOLD YOU NOT TO SNEAK UP ON ME LIKE THAT?”

Papyrus smiled cheekily at him. Razz couldn’t help but compare it to Blue’s smile. They were similar, yet oh so different. Blue’s smile had a softer edge to it, and his eyes looked so mischievous, like a little kid pulling a prank on an adult. Papyrus’ smile was harder, sharper, and much more cynical. It was more how Razz pictured a real imp or a demon would look when contemplating doing… something. Exactly what that was, Razz had never really understood.

That smile surrounded Razz on both sides. He ignored it, waiting for his brother’s response. “you never told me not to sneak up on you on the way down the stairs, sa-”

“don’t say it! please!” Blue almost screamed. Papyrus stared at him like he was crazy.

Razz quickly jumped to his soulmate’s defense. “HE’S RIGHT. MY NAME HAS… UNFORTUNATE EFFECTS ON ME, NOW. IT SEEMS TO HAVE BECOME A TRIGGER. BLUE NOTICED, AND HE CAME UP WITH THE IDEA OF GOING BY A DIFFERENT NAME. I’VE SETTLED ON RAZZ, AS IN RASPBERRY. WHAT DO YOU THINK?”

The second smallest skeleton in the Underground wasn’t even aware how scared he was until Papyrus shrugged. Then a trainload of relief got dumped on his head. “sounds cool to me, bro. the name’s about razz good razz it gets.”

Razz glared at his brother. Really, puns? at a time like this?

Papyrus chuckled. “heh, yeah. no, but seriously, i don’t see a problem with it, s- razz. i know it’ll take a while to get everyone on board… say. how would you feel if i changed my name, too? then you could say you changed your name when i did and not have to tell people why. i don’t want anyone to deliberately try and trigger you because they’re an asshole.”

Surprise, respect, and pleasure came flooding down the bond Razz shared with Blue. He could feel it matched in his own face. “THANK YOU, BROTHER. THAT… WOULD BE APPRECIATED. WHAT DO YOU PLAN ON CALLING YOURSELF?”

Blue cleared his throat. “you could call yourself breaks. you know, like-”

He stopped when Papyrus burst into laughter. He doubled over with his arms wrapped around his lanky torso. Eventually he ended up sitting on the stairs. When he caught his breath, he said, “like what i wanted to name you? thanks, but no. i think i’ll go for my old nickname. muffler used to call me slim, cause i got so tall way faster than i got wide. hell, i’m still a beansprout. i already answer to it, so why not go with that?”

“It’s true,” Razz spun again to see Muffet, who was standing in the front door. “He’s always been the tall and thin type. Razz and Slim both have nice rings to them. I’ll send out a message so as few people have to be directly told as possible.”

Another boatload of relief filled Razz’s soul. He had not been looking forward to facing this same conversation hundreds of times over. It felt nice to know he wouldn’t have to. “THANK YOU, MUFFET. THAT MEANS A LOT.”

Her face softened. “You’re welcome, Razz. Now, I need to steal your new soulmate. You can come if you want, too. We’re going to dismantle those awful dresses of the Queen’s and make something new out of them. Maybe a wall quilt? Anything is better than rotting away and never being worn.”

=====

This time Slim was much closer when his phone’s alarm went off. He was actually sitting at his sentry station. The alarm was connected to the cameras he had placed along the path into Snowdin, so that meant something had triggered them. He pulled up the app he had built and stared at the image it had captured. A thrill shot through him as he realized what it was. It was a human.

Slim jumped up and ran towards the Ruins door. He didn’t get far. The human had made it further this time. She was shorter than the last one, with paler skin and golden hair. She was wearing a very pretty blue dress that was stained with mud. It looked like something a princess might wear., with ruffles, puffy sleeves, and a long train. The bottom was ripped enough that Slim could see her shoes - or, rather, her lack thereof. Muddy feet with a few bleeding cuts peeked out. When she saw him she stopped and waved. “Hello, monster! My name is Patience. What is yours?”

Slim stopped moving, a little bit shocked at the friendliness. “i’m, uh, papy- no. i’m slim now. slim.”

Patience tilted her head curiously. “Did you just change your name, Slim?”

Slim nodded slowly. He might as well tell her. It was good practice for talking with everyone else. “i did. my brother… had some really bad things happen to him, and his name turned out to be a trigger for the bad memories, so he changed his name to razz. i decided to change my name to make him feel like he wasn’t alone. that was this morning.”

The human smiled at him. “It’ll get better, I promise. I used to have a different name that hurt to hear, but the nice monster behind the door said I could change it. Now my name is Patience! He helped me get used to it, and now I am!”

Slim gulped. So she did know the monster behind the door. “if… if you were happy living with him, why’d you come out here? you’re… not going to last for very long.”

“I know,” Patience said with a smile. Seriously. A smile. What was with this kid? “That’s why I’m here. I didn’t know about you monsters, but the man behind the door told me how long you’ve been down here. You’ve been waiting patiently for so long to be free, and… I have no one waiting for me up there. I might as well help you achieve your goal, right?”

Slim summoned his weapon, sadness in his heart. Patience seemed like a cool kid. He wished he could get to know them more, but… he didn’t want to make Razz wait. “well… i guess i just have to say thanks, then, patience.”

Patience knelt down on the snowy ground with her hands in her lap. “You’re welcome, Slim. I hope you and your brother really get to enjoy seeing the stars.”

#rottenjoke #sanscest #swapfell sans #swapfell papyrus #sans #muffet #swapfell #broken things shine brighter #yastaghr

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wroughtbetwixtfanfic · 4 years

Text

Wheels Set In Motion, Ch 2.

Fandom: The Society.

Summary: As the situation in New Ham takes a dark, mysterious turn, Campbell is faced with a threat he never saw coming. With few allies and the past coming back to haunt him, he is forced to deal with a world that is crumbling fast, and choices with grim consequences.

Rating: Explicit.

Tags: Minor Character Death, Canon Divergence, Mental Health Issues, Addiction Recovery, Unhealthy Relationships, Teen Pregnancy, Past Rape/Non-con, Campbell Isn’t The Dad, Brother Feels, Attempted Murder, Supernatural Elements, Gay Sex, Resolved Sexual Tension, Campbell has mild ASPD and is actively trying to not be awful

Word Count: 7613

Ch 1 || Ch 3 || Ch 4 || Ch 5 || AO3

Meet me at the library.

It was 10am when Campbell got the text from Grizz. He had been sitting at the kitchen counter with Elle and Harry; both of them lifted their gazes at the sound of the buzzing, giving him a quizzical look.

It's done. I need someone to talk to.

"Who is it?" Elle wondered.

"Grizz." Campbell stood up and slipped on his shoes. "Allie went through with it."

Harry's face turned a faint shade of green. "What does he want?"

"I don't know. I'll be home soon."

Yet another lie, but what did it matter? Campbell didn't know for sure what was going on, or what exactly Grizz wanted to talk about; he could only guess, and either way, it wasn't his business to share. At least it was a beautiful day, Campbell thought as he walked to the library. Sunny, warm but not hot. A good day to go, if he had to pick one. But Dewey hadn't picked it, and the beauty of the summer morning didn't change that fact, nor did it change the fact that Grizz was hunched up under the tree in front of the library. Shaking, crying.

Campbell didn't say anything. He walked up and sat across from Grizz, keeping his mouth shut and studying the grass while Grizz pulled himself together. Grizz would talk, on his own time; pushing would only make things harder, as could unwelcome touch, even if it was out of comfort. Speech wasn't something that could just be pried from people who were panicking, especially not autistic people.

After fifteen minutes, Grizz let out a shuddering whimper. He ground his wrists against his eyes and sniffled. Coughed. "I couldn't do it."

"Yeah?"

"She had us all pick up a gun. We didn't know which had a bullet. I tried but, we missed the first time and I just couldn't..." Grizz choked on his words, looking like he was going to retch. "Fuck, how are we supposed to live with this?"

Campbell thought back on everything he'd ever done. How did he live with the worst of it? No, he didn't exactly feel bad about any of it, but he could imagine what it'd be like, if he did. "I guess you just find some way to justify it, some explanation that makes it less painful, and hold onto it until things feel less awful."

"That works?"

"I don't know. Remorse isn't my thing, usually."

Grizz looked up at him, frowning, but he didn't say anything. Not at first. "There was graffiti on the wall, before we were brought here. It said we'd been weighed, and found wanting. It was gone when we got here. Maybe it was right, whatever it was."

"Huh." Something bothered Campbell from the back of his mind. A faint memory. Something that felt connected, but nothing that jumped to mind clearly. Shaking his head, Campbell shrugged. "Who knows. Maybe. Either way, all I know is that sometimes shit can't be avoided. All you can do is accept that it happened, find a reason you can live with, and keep going."

"I just want it to stop hurting."

"I wish I could tell you that it will, but I don't know. It might not. It fucking sucks."

"What would you tell yourself?" Grizz asked. "If it had been you?"

"Probably something like, we're in a shit situation without the means to keep him safely contained, and he was a threat. Putting him down would be the fastest, most surefire way of making sure the rest of the community would be safe."

"That's not really true."

"You asked me for what I'd tell myself. Not for the truth."

Grizz leaned back against the tree and stared up at its leaves. There was a finch up among the branches, whistling an obliviously cheerful tune. "I couldn't tell Sam about this," he said, eyes fixed on the bird. "I don't want him to see me falling apart like some kind of weak piece of shit."

The idea made Campbell laugh, despite the situation. "Have you met my brother? Yeah, sometimes he can be stubborn, and he can make jokes when it's not the best time. But he's got a lot of fire and he's compassionate. He's a good guy. Sam isn't going to think you're weak. He's going to think you're a good person who was put in a shit position. Because that's the truth."

They sat there together for a while. Grizz cried again, softer than before, but he still rocked back and forth and let out small whimpering noises.

"Is it okay if I hug you or something?" Campbell asked. It felt strange, just sitting there while someone fell apart. Grizz shook his head. "Alright. Is there anything I can do?"

Grizz used a handkerchief to wipe his face. "Uhm." His cheeks turned a flushed pink. "Could you, I mean, I need to take my mind of things. Could you help me find a book on sign language? I'm... I wanna..."

"Say no more. C'mon."

Grizz followed Campbell into the library. It felt surreal, helping the guy pick out a book to probably sign-sext Sam, but there was a sincere curiosity and eagerness to Grizz as they headed towards the language section that Campbell decided he didn't care. Whatever. The guy had just watched someone die. But as they walked towards the section, Campbell turned the plan over in his head. A few times, in fact. By the time they got there, he knew what he would do.

Campbell grabbed a book on British Sign Language before Grizz had a chance to look over things much. "Here. This is the one I used to learn. It's super informative."

"But it says British." Grizz frowned. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. It's pretty much the same thing, just with... you know, British slang."

Grizz peered at the book as Campbell pushed it into his hands. "Huh. Well, okay. If you say so. Thanks, Campbell. For being cool about this, I mean."

"No big deal. You help me, I'll help you."

He didn't tell Grizz the plan, of course. That was something he'd find out all on his own, but he'd thank Campbell for it later. They explored the library a bit more, with Grizz staring down the religion and spirituality section before shaking his head and leaving. Campbell didn't ask. He just made sure Grizz got home safe, before heading home himself. Hopefully, Grizz would just tuck into his room and focus on learning the wrong type of sign language, and take it easy.

Elle was sitting on the porch when he got home, getting together some paper, pens and other stuff. "Hey," she called as he walked up. "I'm heading over to Becca's house. She's going to help me make missing dog signs during my work break."

Campbell winced. "I'm sorry he's still gone, babe. Do you need me to come help put them up?"

"No. I've got it."

She sounded upset, but of course she was upset. Charlie was gone and hadn't been found. He considered telling her about the blood, but he'd already lied about it; it'd look bad if he suddenly admitted it had come from the night Charlie went missing. Besides, he had no clue if the blood was Charlie's, and Elle didn't need to hear that something-- who knew what, some unknown dark mass-- probably ate her dog.

"Alright. Have a good day at work. If you change your mind, I'll see you at lunch."

Campbell kissed Elle's forehead. She gave him a smile and stroked his cheek before leaving. He watched her go, his own smile falling once she was out of sight. There had to be something he could do to cheer her up. First thing was first, though. He went inside and checked in on Harry, who was snoozing in bed. His forehead felt feverish when Campbell pressed his hand to it. But he didn't stir, and Campbell didn't want to wake him. Instead, he grabbed a book from the living room and perched at the end of Harry's bed, waiting.

It was close to lunch time when Harry groaned, stretched, and yawned. He blinked sleepily at Campbell, and Campbell felt his heart ache a centimeter more than before. Harry sat up and rubbed his eyes, voice groggy. "Hey, Cam. How long have you been here?"

"A while. You feeling okay?"

"No. I feel like I got hit by a truck."

"Hungry?"

"No."

Standing, Campbell went to the kitchen and brewed a cup of herbal tea, with a few scoops of sugar. He brought it back to Harry and held it out. Harry sighed and sipped the drink. "No caffeine for a bit," Campbell said as he opened the curtains a touch. "It'll make you more jittery."

"Can I lie and say I feel great?" Harry asked with mock hope. Campbell gave him a look, and Harry slumped. "I guess I better get ready for work and stuff."

"Just brush your teeth and put some shoes on. I'll do your half of the work, I just need you there so I can keep an eye on you."

"But Allie--"

"Can take it out on me if she has a problem with it."

Harry bit his lip, but he didn't argue. Campbell drove them to lunch so Harry wouldn't have to stress his body out; Elle joined them out in the school's courtyard, where it was pleasantly warm and away from the bright fluorescent lights. Harry picked at his food, but he seemed a little less haggard, out in the sunlight and with the fresh air. Elle was quiet and didn't say much.

No one, Campbell realize, was saying much. Not at lunch, not during cleaning duties before dinner. Elle had left with Becca-- who hadn't even glanced at Campbell-- to go hang up the missing dog posters. The house felt heavy, and at work, everything was the same way. People had cheered for Dewey's arrest, and some had even cheered for his death sentence, were stone silent. Campbell kept his head down and mopped the floors, but he wanted to laugh in their faces. See, he wanted to yell. You think you're so fucking righteous, but you all have blood on your hands, too. They thought they were so tough. Now, reality was hitting them right in their fucking faces.

That evening, after dinner, Allie called a meeting at the church. "Greg Dewey was put to death at 9am this morning," she said. Her voice was flat. She didn't look at anyone, staring straight ahead. "He was buried in the woods without a marker. There will be no funeral. If you want to mourn him, you can do so among yourselves."

And then she left, leaving behind a church of stunned faces, with plenty of shocked whispers among them. Campbell, Elle, and Harry went home without a word, and that night was the first time Elle slept in her own room in a long time. He didn't mind the time alone. There was a lot to think about, to try and process. He thought he would feel some sort of comfort, some sort of closure, but he felt nothing. Just a dark hole where Cassandra had been, still, and no real sense of justice. Just cold practicality, distant and hollow logic that said it was the right move for survival, and that was it.

Dewey had deserved to suffer. To live for ages, knowing what he did and be punished for it. Death wasn't to punish him or get Cassandra some sort of peace in her rest. It was just to get Dewey out of their hair. And Campbell knew that, had known that the whole time, but with it over and done...

His phone buzzed. I love you, the text from Sam read. That was it.

I love you, too, Campbell texted back.

The message was read, but Sam didn't send anything else. Campbell set the phone down and tried to go to sleep. He didn't know why Sam had sent that, or what it or his own reply meant at all, but something about it felt like an acknowledgment that things were fucked and who knew how much time any of them had? Maybe that was all it was. Two semi-estranged souls feeling burdened by the idea of death, and reaching out for some small scrap of familial affection. Just in case.

For the next week, the days seemed to drag by but vanish in a blink at the same time. Everyone seemed to be in their own little bubbles, except for Harry, who stuck close by Campbell's side. It was hell watching him detox, and Campbell wondered if he'd been that irritable; one moment, Harry would be angry and snapping, the next he'd be crying. He slept all the time, which wasn't too far from normal, but even when Campbell dragged him to work-- to pretend like he was working-- he'd glaze over like some sort of robot without batteries.

Elle had withdrawn into her shell. Campbell didn't know what to do. They weren't fighting, but her smiles were forced and when she laughed or acted interested in anything going on, Campbell could tell it was fake. He knew that sort of mask all too well. But what could he do? He didn't even know for sure what was wrong. If he didn't know any better, he'd think it was something he'd done. Maybe it was, but he'd been on his best behavior. What was he missing?

Allie arrived at the house one day when Campbell was sipping coffee on the front steps, pondering that exact question. "I heard Harry hasn't been working," she said, staring past him at the house door. "Can I talk to him?"

"He's sleeping. You can talk to me."

"Campbell, you know the rules. You don't work, you don't eat."

Campbell shrugged. "Fine. I've taken over his shifts until he feels better. If I'm doing twice the work, I get twice the food. No problem."

"Christ. What's going on with him?"

"He's detoxing. Gave up the drugs and the booze cold turkey."

"Really?"

"Is it really that surprising?"

"I guess I just never thought..." Allie rolled her eyes, then looked Campbell over. "Alright, fine. Have it your way. Twice the work, twice the food. I don't care what you do with it. How long does he need?"

"Assuming my research is right, about another week. Week and a half."

"He's got two weeks. If he needs longer, then he needs to come see me."

"Thanks." Hesitating a moment, Campbell called out to Allie as she started to walk away. "Hey, Allie? Can I ask you something?"

Allie sighed, but stopped. "What's up?"

"Do you know if something happened with Elle? She's been acting kinda strange lately."

"I don't know. She's been hanging out with Helena and Becca a lot. Ask them."

"Well, I would, be Helena wants me to burn in Hell and Becca hasn't spoken to me in forever. Makes things a little difficult, doesn't it?"

"Really?" Furrowing her eyebrows, Allie took a few steps back towards Campbell. "You guys used to be friends, didn't you?"

"Kinda. But then..." Careful. "Life happened, I guess, and she won't even look at me anymore. No clue why."

The look on Allie's face shifted, and for a moment Campbell thought she was going to ask something, but then she shook her head. "I'll ask Sam to talk to her. You and him are on speaking terms again, yeah?"

"Yeah. Mostly."

"Good."

That sounded almost genuine. Maybe it was. Who knew. Allie walked off, and Campbell finished his coffee in peace. The mystery only deepened as the day went on, and Sam texted him, asking to meet. Elle was at work, so Campbell dragged a weary Harry along to the coffee shop where his brother was waiting. Sam gave Harry a skeptical look, but Harry tucked himself into a corner in the back with a book and one of Campbell's hoodies draped over his shoulders. He wasn't going to be paying attention.

"How have you been?" Campbell asked. "Since everything."

"Tired. Sad. Worried."

"Worried?"

Sam shook his head and gave a helpless sort of shrug. "About how it will change things. How it will change us. But I think Allie is taking it harder than most of us. She had to take over for Grizz."

Now, that was something Campbell hadn't known. "Yikes. No wonder she's tense."

"Everyone seems tense. Allie told me you're having troubles with Elle?"

"Maybe, I don't know. I'm glad she's got some friends now, but lately she's been hanging out with Becca more. She found a dog wandering loose, and then he disappeared right around the time all this Dewey shit started. Maybe it's just that."

"Maybe. That's rough."

"It is." Campbell noticed a hint of... something in Sam's eyes, though. "Do you know if Becca has anything against me? We got along okay, but she treats me like I've got some sort of contagious disease these days."

Pursing his lips together, Sam glanced to where Harry was curled up. Harry was still ignoring them, but Sam switched to signing only. "I want to ask you something, but you have to promise to tell me the truth."

"I could lie about promising," Campbell signed back, also going into silent mode. "But sure. I promise."

"Did you and Becca ever sleep together?"

"What? Hell no. Elle's the only person I've slept with."

"That's what I thought, but..."

"But?"

A long, long pause. "Promise you won't say anything, not even to Elle? Or Harry?"

"Dude, still the same problem there."

"Campbell."

"Okay, okay. What's going on?"

"Becca's..." Sam hesitated. "I asked Becca about someone she slept with, and she got angry with me. She told me to never ask her again. I assumed it was you, because I don't know why else she wouldn't tell me."

Campbell felt dizzy, in a way, as he processed the information. Was it possible Becca associated him with that night, and just didn't want to remember? Or, worse, that she thought he had been responsible? Either way, he had no idea what Becca had confessed to Sam, so best to stay vague. "I know about the party where she met them, but it wasn't me. We just went together."

"She never told me about that. You don't know who it was?"

"No. Sorry."

"It's okay. Do you want me to talk to Becca for you?"

"No, no, I don't want to bother her, especially if she's angry at me over something. I'll see if Elle will just talk to me."

Sam nodded. He messed with the salt and pepper shakers on the table. Empty now, their contents taken by Will and his crew to use in the communal kitchen. "Was that all you wanted to talk about?"

The answer was yes. Campbell hadn't planned on talking about anything else. Yet now that he was there, sitting across from Sam and actually talking about things rather than arguing or blaming or whatever, Campbell considered that maybe it was also time to extend another olive branch. A bigger, better one. "Actually, I was thinking we could go to the arcade on our next day off. Like we used to."

"Really?" Sam sat up a little straighter. "You want to?"

"Yeah, of course. If you want to."

"I'd like that."

They settled on a day and time, and went their separate ways; it was easier than Campbell had expected. No questions, no suspicion. Just a glint of hope. Campbell was starting to think that maybe Sam really did care about him. Maybe he always had. He'd known that his own feelings had been impacted by his parents, but was the same true for Sam? Did their relationships with their parents really color the relationship between them so much? It seemed hard to believe, but maybe it was true, and it had just taken a few doses of tragedy to bridge that gap.

Unfortunately, those tragedies seemed to have broken something between Campbell and Elle. She smiled, she laughed at his shitty jokes, and she accepted his affection, but there was a stiffness to it. It was forced. Once lunch was over and Elle had gone home to rest, Campbell popped back into the cafeteria. Elaine was working. They weren't as close as before, but she still seemed welcoming when he approached. That was a good sign.

"Hey," Campbell said with as charming of a smile as he could muster. "Could I ask you for a favor?"

Elaine tilted her head. "You can, doesn't mean I'll agree. What's up?"

"I was hoping to make my girlfriend a dinner at home tonight. You know, just me and her. Something special. I just need a jar of like, alfredo sauce and some garlic bread."

"That's cute. I'll have to ask Will, though."

Oh, god. "Okay."

Shuffling into the back, Elaine vanished, and a few minutes later Will came out instead. He looked neutral, but Campbell braced for a fight. "Elaine said you asked for some extra ingredients. You know we're not supposed to give out food for people to use at home."

"I know. Maybe I can bring in some other supplies to trade, at breakfast? You guys probably need band aids and stuff like that, yeah?"

Will narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, we could use some. Are you sure you wanna do that?"

"I'm sure," Campbell replied. "Elle's important to me. I want to do something nice for her."

"I can give you a jar of sauce, and a few slices of texas toast we've got. You got a box of band aids we can have?"

A small price for what Campbell was hoping to accomplish. Maybe Elle just needed a pick-me-up, something to remind her that he cared. The next night, Harry took Elle out with the excuse of getting some fresh air while Campbell quickly set the dining room table. Nice glasses, sparkling cider his parents had kept around for the 4th of July, candlelight. He salted the pasta water, drained it when it was al dente, and added the sauce to the pot with a bit of pasta water and dried herbs. He mixed in some canned mushrooms and a bit of pan-fried frozen chicken, heated the bread, and got it plated just as the two came back from the walk.

"Oh?" Elle peeked into the dining room. "What's this?"

Campbell took her hand and kissed it as Harry darted into his room, flashing Campbell a thumbs up behind Elle's back. "I thought we could stay home tonight, babe. Will traded me a few things so I could make dinner here, just the two of us. I remembered that you liked Italian food, so..."

Elle stretched up on her tippy toes and kissed him. "It looks amazing. Thank you."

And it was amazing, for the first half of dinner. Campbell hated small talk, but Elle was quieter than usual, and if there was ever a time to sort things out... well, maybe it wasn't then, but he was tired of waiting. "How have you been doing?" he asked. "I feel like we haven't really talked lately."

"Oh! Well, I've mostly just been working and helping out some people around town. Some people are talking about setting up classes and workshops to give people things to focus on. I was thinking about reviving movie night."

"That sounds like a good idea. We could all use the distraction."

"Yeah." Elle glanced up from her plate. "There haven't been any leads on Charlie, though. Have you heard anything?"

"Sorry, babe. I haven't heard anything, either."

"And you're sure you don't know what happened to him?"

Campbell gripped his fork tighter as his jaw clenched. Peaceful thoughts, peaceful thoughts. Maybe she didn't mean anything by it. "What do you mean?"

"I was talking to Becca, and--"

"She told you what Sam said?"

"Sure. Yeah."

"Elle, that's..." He stopped and rubbed his face. Even now, even with her, it was all too easy for his brain to go into that space where everyone was a threat and he had to attack to defend himself. This time, he managed to cut himself off before anything snappish came out his mouth. "I've fucked up a lot, and some people in town hate me for a decent reasons. Kelly, Allie. I was mean to them. But Becca's different."

"Different how?"

"I never did anything to Becca, but she hates me, too. Maybe it's because of me and Sam not getting along. I don't know. But whatever she said I did, it's not true."

"Alright. I'm sorry I said anything. I should have known."

"Hey." Campbell stood up and walked to her side of the table, kneeling on the floor next to her and taking her hand in his own. "No, it's okay. I'm not mad at you or Sam or Becca. I just wanted to set the record straight, you know? It's better to just get it out in the open."

Elle nodded, but she was still staring down at her plate. "Yeah, it is. I guess I just..." She trailed off, finally looking to him. "This place is doing things to people. Showing them for who they are, maybe. It scares me."

"It's scary shit. But we still have each other, right?"

"Right."

Campbell knew, deep down, it wasn't that simple. Elle began sleeping with him again-- both in the literally and euphemistic sense-- but there was a sadness in her eyes that never quite seemed to fade, even on their best days. She was afraid, and his presence wasn't changing that. He couldn't blame her. He knew that there was no way he could be at her side every moment of every day, and even if he was, he wasn't bulletproof. Still, he refused to stop trying.

He kept seeing Grizz a couple times a week. Usually they would just talk. Vent. Grizz found some papers he had on something called EMDR, and suggested they try it. "It seems to help with stuff like PTSD."

"I don't have PTSD."

"You don't think so?"

"I'm not a war vet, Grizz. I haven't been through anything bad enough for that."

Grizz gave Campbell the look he always gave Campbell when he knew Campbell was trying to avoid a topic, and thought it was bullshit. It was one thing Campbell admired about Grizz-- he didn't hide his opinion. "You don't have to be a war vet. You know that. It's actually the least common cause for PTSD. Physical assault, sexual trauma, and sexual assault are the top three causes."

"Yeah, okay. I get the point."

"Do you? Do you know what the fourth leading cause is?"

"I know you're gonna tell me either way."

"Sudden death of a loved one." Grizz lowered his voice and leaned forward, making direct eye contact for the first time since they' bee having meetings. "You were the one who first found her body, weren't you?"

Campbell met his eyes and felt goosebumps rise up on his arms. "How do you know that? I never told you."

"It doesn't really matter, because I know you didn't hurt her. Here's the papers."

Just to end the conversation, Campbell snatched the paper folder from Grizz and hid in the corner of the library. He didn't want to have to think about what Grizz said, not for a long time, if ever. It wasn't some miracle cure, but Grizz figured out a sort of at-home way to do it, and Campbell did feel better. Calmer. In return, he helped Grizz practice his BSL, even if Campbell knew it wouldn't work with Sam. It wasn't entirely useless. Learning a new language was beneficial, and Grizz was proud of his improvements; Campbell enjoyed the interaction, so really, it was a win/win.

Harry stayed clean, though as summer passed by and melded into fall, Campbell could tell that the depression was getting worse. It wasn't too much of a surprise. Depression didn't just go away, even with treatment, and getting sober made everything more difficult. It had been a coping mechanism, and now Harry didn't have that to lean on. Campbell taught him some of what he'd learned from Cassandra and Grizz; it seemed to help, but the situation they were in just kept punching a lot of people down. Harry needed to rest, but he'd been dragged back to work once the two weeks had been up. To make matters worse, the work schedules hadn't been rotated since Dewey's execution.

"I brought it up to her," Sam said during one of their now-weekly get togethers. "But she just isn't listening. You know Allie. She has her opinions."

"Runs in the family. I don't get it, though. If she's so worried about people revolting against her, why is she doing this?"

Sam lifted his shoulders in a big shrug. "I have no idea. She gave me a job at the library, and told me I could stay there as long as I wanted. She's done the same for a few other people. Given them stable jobs. Maybe she feels like that's what's best for everyone, now."

"Yeah, except she didn't ask anyone."

"She doesn't have to."

And that was that, in the end. Allie didn't have to justify or explain her choices to anyone. It was her rules now. It was her society. They were all just living in it, despite what she may have said during the mandatory town meetings. Campbell kept his fingers on the pulse of the community as best as he could, making notes of who was pissed, frustrated, complaining. He wouldn't give it over to the guard or to Allie, but it was good to keep track of the undercurrent of the river they were all standing in. And it was getting rough.

There was a small reprieve during October.

"I guess Blake, Clark, and some of the goth kids are getting a Halloween thing together at the end of the month," Elle said one day when she came home from work. "Do you wanna go?"

Campbell looked up from the dishes he was washing. "Hey. Sure, that sounds like a good time. When is it going to be?"

"Five in the evening. I guess there's gonna be a trick-or-treat event after dark."

"Nice. That should be fun."

"Do you want to do the costume thing?"

"I don't know. How about you?"

Elle perched on the counter next to him, lightly kicking her legs. "It could be fun. We don't have to do anything complicated. We could ask Harry and Sam and a few other people to come with us, maybe?"

Other people was vague, but she sounded so tentative that he didn't want to press her about it. "Sure. Halloween's kind of better in a group, right? Maybe tomorrow we can go through our stuff and figure out costume ideas."

"Sure. That'd be nice."

And it was. They didn't have anything super elaborate to work with, but it was fun to paw through their closets and figure something out together. They didn't have much luck at first, but Elle's smile was a bit warmer than it had been in a while. Maybe things were going to be okay between them, after all. She held his hand when they went to movie night together, and ended up leaning against him; she and the others involved had decided every week in October would be a different horror movie, which seemed like both the best and worst idea.

It was a double feature night, with Rocky Horror Picture Show and Bela Lugosi's Dracula. Harry had decided to come with them, unlike the previous week's Creature from the Black Lagoon. Harry ended up falling asleep on his shoulder twenty minutes into the second movie. Once the movie was over, Campbell and Harry helped Elle clean up; Elle and Campbell had just taken out the last bag of trash when Elle curled her arms around his waist in a hug.

"Hey," she said as she nuzzled his shoulder. "I got a costume idea. We could always go as Mina and Dracula. Classic. I could wear my nice white dress my mom got me for my birthday this year."

"The one with the lace hem?"

"You remember."

"Of course. You wore it for Easter. It's amazing on you."

She let out a pleased hum. "Do you really like the idea?"

"I do," Campbell affirmed. "Vampires are still in, aren't they?"

"Always."

Even with something to look forward to, the time dragged a little, but it gave Campbell a touch of excitement for the near future. The three of them managed to sneak some Halloween decorations, not something his parents had really allowed, and make the house appropriately festive. He and Harry got in a light argument over whether Nightmare Before Christmas was a Halloween or Christmas movie. The week before the Halloween events, Will revealed that there were pumpkins available for decorating.

Sam showed up with a few, looking hopeful. "I thought we could carve them together," he signed, "since we never have before."

And how could Campbell say no? They sat on the back porch, and Elle joined them with a pitcher of hot, spiced tea. It was sunny and perfect weather for it. Sam didn't eye him for wielding a knife, which was a bonus. Campbell sliced the pumpkins open and dug out the seeds. "There. I'll have to find some tea candles for when they're done."

Harry sat nearby, picking the seeds out of the orange goop. "These can be roasted later," he said. He wrinkled his nose as he grabbed a handful. "Even if it look like something you'd find growing under a bridge."

Sam signed something, and Harry glanced at Campbell, unsure. Campbell chuckled. "He said we might have to forage under bridges if things get bad."

"Oh, geeze." Harry turned his eyes back to Sam. "Better have Grizz teach us about mushrooms."

Blushing, Sam nodded and focused on his pumpkin. He made a sort of howling wolf face, while Elle made a cat, and Campbell and Harry stuck to more traditional jack o' lantern faces. As it turned out, all carved pumpkins were destined to be decorations at the Halloween Eve festival that had been planned; Grizz came around to pick them up the day before, spending a few minutes talking to Sam, who had come by again to make roasted pumpkin seeds.

Campbell waited until Grizz was gone before nudging Sam. "When are you gonna go for it? It's been months."

"He hasn't made any sort of move at all. Are you even sure he likes me?"

"Have you made a move?"

He didn't push the issue when Sam kept quiet. It wasn't really Campbell's business, and his relationship with Sam was just beginning to bloom into something that actually resembled a brotherhood. The lovebirds would come together on their own, eventually, or they wouldn't. Still, it was nice to think maybe Sam wouldn't be alone forever, after all. It was something he'd always worried about, ever since that priest put it in his head after Sam had come out.

At least Grizz was part of the group that gathered together to go to the Halloween events. Campbell dressed in black jeans, a white t-shirt, and a black leather jacket; he'd managed to barter high-quality custom fangs from Elaine, and of course, Elle looked effortlessly beautiful in her white dress and pale make-up. The three of them met the others in front of the school. It was mostly Sam and Allie's friend group, but Campbell was determined to play nice, even though Will, Luke, and Gordie were giving him wary looks, and Becca outright ignored him. There was a tension between her and Sam. Campbell assumed there must have been an argument. Regardless of what happened, they all plastered smiles on their faces and greeted each other.

Allie raised her eyebrows at Harry. "Dude, what's your costume?"

Harry stood there in boxers, a tank top, and moose slippers with a five day shadow and an unopened package of Top Ramen in his hands. Without missing a beat, he gestured to himself with it and shrugged. "I'm a Millennial.

"Ah. The scariest urban legend."

Bean gave Harry a concerned look. "Aren't you gonna be cold like that?"

"Not with the increasing effects of global warming, I won't."

Most of them chuckled. It was an uneasy sound that came with knowing they might not actually survive long enough to worry about that sort of thing anymore. Food. Warmth over the winter. Sickness. Student loan debt and rising sea levels seemed like such a distant problem, in their new town.

The big event distracted them, anyways. There were a few different activities going on. In one area, there was a big barrel where people were bobbing for apples, provided by someone who was lucky enough to have an apple tree in their yard. Blake and a few theater kids were doing face painting, and Clark had offered up his pick-up truck for rides along the more picturesque parts of town. All the carved pumpkins were scattered around with candles, and people had gathered up bags of leaves to scatter around the field. A little ways out, there was a bonfire going, where people were serving cups of hot cider, and roasting hot dogs and marshmallows. Someone had brought a speaker system, and cheesy Halloween music filled the air along with the smells of wood smoke, caramelized sugar, and spices.

A solid half of the group got their faces painted, and after seeing how cute it was, Allie gave in, too. Campbell politely declined, as did Luke, Helena, and Harry. Surprising Campbell, Harry decided to bob for apples; he looked like a soggy dog when he came back up, but he did have an apple and won that round. He winked at Campbell when no one was looking, and Campbell rolled his eyes. Show off, even when it was apple bobbing.

"I guess they converted the school into a haunted house," Kelly said after they'd gotten cider and snacks at the bonfire. "Wanna go, anyone?"

Everyone agreed, except for Becca, who's eyes were pointedly on Campbell when she refused. "No thanks, I'm a little tired. I'll just stay here by the fire."

Sam signed to her. "We'll come get you in a little bit."

"Okay. Have fun."

Campbell started to leave with the group, but then paused. He waited until they were a ways away before turning back to Becca. "Look, I don't want a fight, but you clearly are pissed off at me for some reason." He didn't want to bring up what Sam said. "I don't understand why."

"Really?" Becca glowered at him. "You're playing that card?"

"What card? One day we're kinda friends, and when I took you home after what happened at Harry's party, you just--"

"Fuck you, Campbell."

"Becca, just tell me what I did. I can try to fix it or something."

Standing up, Becca raised her voice until she was practically yelling. "Fix it? You can't fix what you did to me! How dare you? Maybe you've got Sam and Allie and Grizz fooled, but not me. I know what you did. And one of these days, so will everyone else, and you'll get what you deserve."

"So you think I did it." Campbell had suspected, but it still felt like someone had kicked him in the gut. "Becca, I don't know what you remember, but I didn't do it. I found you, and I helped you get home. That was it."

"Leave me the fuck alone! Get away from me!"

People were starting to stare. Campbell opened his mouth, shut it again, and turned to follow after everyone else. He froze when he saw that Elle was standing not too far away; she had stopped when she'd noticed Campbell wasn't with them, probably, and now she was looking at him with a look that chilled even him.

Campbell approached her, slow and with care. "Babe, I don't know what you heard, but--"

"We should catch up with the others."

"Elle."

"Please. Not now."

Clenching his teeth, Campbell followed silently behind Elle as she made her way to the school. No, he wanted to shout. No, we're not leaving it like this. You have to listen to me, you have to believe me. But if Campbell were Elle, he knew he wouldn't believe him, either. Becca was a straightforward, no bullshit kind of person. Honest, with a spotless record, and she was well-liked. She was Sam's friend since childhood. She'd never been Campbell's friend, really, but they knew each other. He'd had opportunity. It didn't look good, and if it got out, how would he be able to defend himself? How could he fight that, without hurting Becca?

He didn't know. All he knew was that the rest of the night was a blur, and by the time they all got home, the evening was thoroughly ruined. Harry kept his mouth shut and hid in his room; he could sense there was a storm brewing, and Campbell didn't blame him for wanting nothing to do with it. Elle fled upstairs. Campbell gave her a few minutes, and then went up. She was sitting in her own bathroom, staring at the mirror. It looked like she'd planned to take her make up off, but she hadn't started yet. Elle just... stared at her reflection.

"Babe?" Campbell called softly. "Can we talk?"

"Is she telling the truth?"

The cutting, dangerous edge to Elle's voice was enough to make Campbell swallow. Hard. "How do you mean that, exactly?"

"You know what I mean."

"No, I don't. Do you mean about being attacked, or it being me who did it?"

"Did you rape Becca?"

"Jesus, Elle." Running his hand through his hair, Campbell sat down on the floor just outside the bathroom. "No. I didn't rape her."

"So she's lying?"

"I'm not saying she's lying. She was attacked at a party Harry threw with the football team and some college assholes from outside of town. We went together as friends, I lost sight of her, and when I found her it had already happened. I made sure she got home, but she was pretty out of it. She refuse to go to the hospital and she told me not to tell anyone. The next day, she blocked my number and hasn't spoken to me since. I believe that she thinks it was me, but it wasn't."

Elle was watching him in the mirror, expression completely closed off and eyes blank. "You know how this looks, right? You know how many guys say it wasn't them when they get accused."

"I know, and I know that ninety-nine times out of a hundred, the victim is right. I'm not saying Becca wasn't attacked. Hell, I understand why she thinks it's me. Trust me, if I could find the dirtbag who hurt her, I'd rip their fucking head off. But I don't know who it was. I just know it wasn't me."

Turning on the sink, Elle began to remove her make up. She didn't speak. She didn't look at him. He didn't try and make her. They just both sat there in their own thoughts. Campbell knew that she was going to leave. It was all too much, and he knew that. His shitty temper, his moodiness, what happened with Sam and then Cassandra, Charlie vanishing, and now this. Even if he didn't or hadn't done everything he was accused of, Campbell knew he was difficult to deal with, and he knew he'd done enough to be suspect. Why would she stay with someone like him?

"I need a night to just clear my head, I think," Elle finally said. She frowned and fiddled with her hair. "Is that okay?"

"Of course. Take the time you need."

"Thank you. Goodnight, Campbell."

He stood and went to his room. Elle shut the door behind him, and the sound of the lock to her door clicking shut sounded a lot like the sound of his heart cracking. He paced his room for a while, after that. Elle was just scared. It made sense. He loved her, and she must have loved him too, otherwise she'd have left long ago. Maybe he could talk with Sam and see if Becca would talk to him. Hear him out, in a quieter environment with Sam or someone else there to help her feel safe. Maybe if Campbell explained what he remembered, it would help her, too. But what if it didn't? What if it made things worse, or Elle left before then, or left anyways?

Crawling into bed, Campbell sighed. Happy fucking Halloween. His gaze moved to the clock by his bed. Well, not Halloween anymore. It was a little past midnight. It was November 1st. Almost winter. A bad time to find one's self isolated. His bed felt cold, he felt cold, and something in him felt... off, detached, shivering and alone, even with other people in the same house. It had been a while since he'd felt that way. Best to get used to it. Things were only going to get colder. Literally and metaphorically, it seemed. But Harry still looked at him warmly. Grizz was a friend. And Sam. Sam was there for him, too, maybe.

Campbell closed his eyes. He just had to take his own advice.

Find a reason, and keep going.

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