#maybe there’s a reason I’ve always been very defensive of this stuff - I’m not trans tho. I feel like I would’ve figured that out by now

[deansmom]

another non-binary friend here ! you're honestly doing great, i wish everyone would express their confusion the way you did. im not NT so i might be biased here but your explanation of your confusion abt the depths of gender and identity spelled out compassion and sincerity in big, sparkly letters to me and also made me snort-laugh. it's awesome and it makes me feel respected as a person. <333

🥺 that’s very kind but also respecting your existence is the absolute bare minimum that anybody can do lol. I remember learning what being trans meant as a little kid and just being furious that anybody would be mean to someone for just existing as they are 😂 I totally didn’t get it for a long time, but I’ve done a lot of reading and stuff as I’ve gotten older and actually meeting trans people made it click - I’m probably never going to get it bc I’m cis (I think?) but I’ve always just looked at identity stuff like I don’t have to fully get it to just not be a piece of shit?

Everybody deserves to exist and be comfortable with themselves and the inner workings or thought processes of that isn’t anybody else’s business, unless they invite you into it.

This is a very roundabout way of saying that this is terribly kind and I’m Trying To Understand, But I Love And Support You. Also, if you know of any explanations of the intricacies of gender that is geared towards kids I would probably benefit from reading that 😂 I had that thought last night and forgot to Google it, damn, okay bitch, come read this in the morning and Google it!!!! Awake Mackenzie, GOOGLE THAT IN THE MORNING

#I still can’t stop thinking about the sentence that started this all and my gender and UGH #gender is stupid can’t I just be okay with the one I was assigned and just fuck gender norms??? #curiosity killed my askbox #also completely unrelated but he/they lesbians??? #is that just a person who identified as a lesbian but then had a gender epiphany and was like ‘oh that’s incorrect’?? #I’m still very used to the...... old? queer discourse guys I still don’t fully understand the difference btwn bi & pan and I am one of them #I don’t really know which one but I am one of them #I feel like that guy with the skateboard greetings fellow kids! #I’m tired my adderall has completely left my system now this is SO rambly I’m so sorry #you’re doing amazing sweetie I’m proud of you crazy kids destroying walls and loving yourselves as you are 🥰 #oh my gosh my brain just reminded me of theydies and gentlethems and I’m just so 🥺🥺🥺 #maybe there’s a reason I’ve always been very defensive of this stuff - I’m not trans tho. I feel like I would’ve figured that out by now #with how much I’ve thought about it 😂 #ok well I’m gonna pass out now good night friend 🖤🖤🖤🖤 #personal

[not-poignant]

I’ve been having a lot of Thoughts while reading FFS about how there is really no space in society for people who have committed assault or rape to meaningfully rehabilitate or re-integrate, especially if what they’ve done goes public. Do you think there’s a point where holding people accountable for what they’ve done sort of morphs into not letting them grow or improve?

This is a really complicated issue.

Firstly, in some parts of the world, there are specialists and psychologists who do specialise in helping people like Efnisien integrate back into society. They usually work in concert with community housing or government departments, and there are - especially in more welfare focused countries - many programs designed specifically to offer support to people like Efnisien (and criminals in general - though Efnisien has never been to prison or even juvenile detention).

A lot of this stuff is invisible in society, because of taboo and stigma, and because like you say, if a lot of these people are identified publicly (outside of a sexual offenders register), it’s often bad news for them. A lot of people don’t know these things exist unless they a) do something terrible and encounter them firsthand or b) are a loved one who knows about someone going into those programs.

As to the issue of holding people accountable, there’s a lot of things going on in your statement. People need to be held accountable, but that is not the same as tacitly approving bullying or abusing people who have done terrible things. Holding someone accountable is not done by bullying or abusing a person, and studies repeatedly show it’s counterproductive to treat people like this when they are trying to rehabilitate. There’s a direct correlation between recidivism and how a person’s rights (including the right to respect and care) are fulfilled after they’ve committed a crime. Also, once a person has proven they are self accountable, one has to question whether it’s relevant or necessary to hold them accountable after that in a way that is designed to destroy a person’s quality of life. Self-accountability changes how we hold people accountable; but...you wouldn’t always know that with the internet these days.

We definitely live in a culture where in some parts, people are not permitted to grow, improve or rehabilitate, and are bullied or abused for things they said or did that aren’t remotely criminal, even ten or fifteen years ago, even when it’s clear that they’ve changed. This is not holding someone accountable, this is scapegoating someone you don’t like for a reason that feels righteous, and bullying them for it. Of course their target can’t grow or improve in an environment like that; because it actually has nothing to do truly with accountability.

It’s one thing to hold JKR accountable for her horrific transphobic views. But if by some fucking miracle she manages to apologise and make genuine amends, somehow, in the next few years (unlikely but whatever, a trans person like me can dream), people bullying her after that won’t mean ‘holding her accountable.’ That’s just bullying under an umbrella of ‘this is justified, right?’

One of the reasons I actually write Falling Falling Stars is actually to explore the often very left-wing perspective that people who are morally grey, or who have done bad things, should be treated like scum, or like the worst of the worst and - as Efnisien knows - deserve to be killed or tortured or treated terribly etc. But all humans deserve human rights; that’s why they’re human rights. And it’s been interesting watching people...become very defensive in the face of what this story challenges. It hasn’t happened nearly as often as I expected, but it has happened.

My story at the end of the day is just a story, no one has to read it if they don’t like Efnisien or don’t think he deserves good things; but it’s been heartening to see so many people sort of...supporting him because he’s trying. It’s been great to show how consistent support and positive regard can actually create positive knock on effects.

Because like, we know that happens in reality too.

(Also, because you (the proverbial you, not you specifically, anon) would be surprised how many people who haven’t done criminal things still sometimes feel like reprehensible people who don’t deserve forgiveness for things that they’ve done in the past; because we’ve created a culture that...perpetuates this. A lot of people really identify with Efnisien, not because they’ve molested people, but because they feel like they might not deserve forgiveness for something in the past, or might not deserve to live a full or happy life because of something in the past.)

But the world is also far more complicated than Falling Falling Stars. Efnisien is a unique case, and not everyone who has committed crimes or been abusive can recover, and may only ever be interested in exploiting the system (Crielle is a great contrast to Efnisien in this sense; as Efnisien says ‘does this mean Crielle is human too?’ - whatever applies to him, also applies to her, and yet we know Efnisien can rehabilitate; and Crielle can’t. It’s a tough world out there, not everyone will stop committing crimes or atrocities in the face of support; and yet they still have a right to be supported. Human rights are complicated sometimes, and very challenging.) Also, a general caveat, no victim of an abuser ever has to forgive their abuser, no matter how much that abuser has changed. Ever. Ever ever ever.

But many people act like victims of other people, when they never have been, and use that to excuse the most horrific rhetoric (we see this when antis treat people who write taboo content like scum, they act like they’re being victimised, when they’re not; they’re choosing to engage in that content, with those authors and artists -> if they feel like a victim, it’s because they’re victimising themselves. They don’t believe in self accountability).

Anyway, lots of rambling, this is incredibly complex and you could write many books on the subject and still not be done. I’m not against callout culture, but I am against condoning bullying and abuse of ‘people who have never done anything to me but who are still shitty and it feels good to not manage my anger and just dump it on them instead’, especially under the umbrella of supposed ‘righteousness.’ I’m a big believer in rehabilitation, education and support programs for many types of criminal acts, as well as early intervention (i.e. spotting criminal behaviour in youth and acting early). 

Ultimately one of the most important things in these situations is self-accountability. This means holding someone accountable, but it also means offering support so a person can safely learn to be self-accountable, and process what that means. It’s scary to go ‘I’ve been abusive’ or ‘I have treated people badly and that’s on me’ - it’s scary to do that even just in an argument with a friend, let alone criminal acts. It’s naive and callous to assume that people who engage in behaviours we deem terrible, to be capable of confronting these kinds of truths without support. Like we don’t want to offer them tacit support, but we don’t have to!!! Of course we don’t have to be the ones who support them, but it’s important to support programs and facilities of people who are trained to support them.

Some countries are a lot worse than others. The USA, obviously, is pretty bad at offering this kind of support. Some European countries and some parts of Australia are getting better at it, etc. For example, we know that ‘prisoners and pets’ programs are actually really amazing for reducing recidivism and improving outcomes.

In the absence of support, all you can do is protect yourselves and sometimes, yes, publicly point out the people that aren’t going to change in the absence of support, so that everyone can be as potentially safe as possible.

Anyway it’s complicated. There are lots of caveats and disclaimers, it changes country by country, crime by crime, condition by condition, person by person, situation by situation. But yeah I think there is a radical difference between holding someone accountable, and just bullying and abusing them publicly. And I think that is something basic, that a lot of people on the internet have forgotten over the years, in these times of polarised, black and white thinking. 

I don’t know what the right answers are. I support Efnisien, but there are criminals I’ve known personally who have impacted me directly that I hate, and I struggle to view them as human beings worthy of human rights. This story challenges me too. Will I change my mind about those criminals? Maybe. Maybe not. Sometimes I change my mind, sometimes I don’t. I generally support programs that help reduce recidivism, and repeatedly, those programs are ones that offer support, counselling, community and friendship, and connection to others. I think any program that reduces recidivism is a good one. But you’ll never eliminate recidivism entirely, and that makes the subject complicated. People will point to the failures, to justify getting rid of programs that have successes. They cost a lot of money, it’s...complicated. :/

But it’s sometimes hard to wrap your head around that when people who have never done anything wrong in a significant way struggle to get any kind of support themselves, but that’s a greater government welfare issue, and... well...

Now my brain is breaking and I have to stop talking, lol.

#asks and answers #dodgy advice please don't ever listen to me #falling falling stars #fae tales AU #fae tales #efnisien ap wledig #it's just...a side story of a side story of a side story #at the end of the day #i have a lot of feelings about callout culture and stuff #but... #anyway #accountability and bullying are different #calling a person 'an asshole who deserves to die horribly' is not holding someone accountable #in fact #there's a real lack of self-accountability with a rhetoric like that #but anyway anyway i don't know #i can really only talk about efnisien here #and i hate so many types of criminal #the idea that fascists deserve some kind of support #makes me want to claw my own eyes out #so i don't know the answers anon #but like i said #this situation changes person to person #and i'm so glad i'm not writing about some racist fascist #because i'd probably kill them on the page alkdfjsajlkfsa #Anonymous

[0ceanoflight]

My thoughts on Gaya Sa Pelikula now that I've watched all 8 eps.

Cause I need to write down my thoughts and Twitter's character limit just isn't enough so thank you tumblr. This is gonna be a rant

Also, just wanna say this is from the point of view of a gay trans masc enby, aka me.

First impression

Gaya Sa Pelikula is just.... Wow. It's hard to describe. I originally watched it cause some moots on Twitter kept talking about it and they recommended it to me. It doesn't take much for me to watch a gay show, so of course I checked it out. At the time I think maybe 2-3 eps were out.

I knew nothing about the plot. I had no expectations for it. Just hoping it didn't have any problematic stuff in it, hopefully some cute stuff, same as any other gay show. It was just some show to watch to pass the time. I was wrong. It's so much more than just a good show. It's rare for me to get THIS emotionally invested into a show.

From the first ep I thought "Oh, this is pretty realistic lol. I've said stuff like this", referring to Vlad's lines. That continued as I watched the remaining available eps. Later my moots mentioned that it was written by a gay man and I understood right away. GSP is a gay show with the intention of being very realistic. It wasn't just gay for entertainment's sake. It was gay for the sake for real gay people.

Characters

The characters are so well written. They are flawed. They're not perfect. They all have their own struggles that you wouldn't know until you sat down and talked to them. Their lines and personalities are real. They feel real. I've met people like that. I have friends like that. I see myself in them. Also the acting is incredible. Really brought it to the next level.

The Music

A golden sound track. Every song just fit. It felt like the songs were made for that scene. The lyrics, the vibe. There were so many times when I thought that lyrics perfectly fit the scene in a way that would make me connect even more to what was happening. Really couldn't have been better. 10/10.

The visuals and plot devices

The way everything seems to have a purpose. Everything seems to be interconnected. There were so many things that were mentioned earlier in the episode, or I'm previous episodes that you originally didn't fully understand, then they would come back and suddenly *mindblown*.

The lines in the first prom dancing scene in the first ep. The ghost stories (still blows my mind). Vlad not liking his hair being touch which wasn't explained till later. The keychain. The theme song test. The movie they were watching about the imaginary beach (I forgot the name). The reason behind Judit's seemingly fake/weird ally speeches. The reason why Karl always seemed so stiff and awkward. The closet. The orca. The remote. Ect.

All of that came back later in the show and added so much depth. The metaphors used seemed to almost add extra explainations. Like... they didn't just give more layers of complexity, but it gave us a stronger understanding of what was going on. Or at least it made it more emotional. Idk. I was just one of he people who read posts of others dissecting the show cause I'm not as good. Lol.

Also there were beautiful scenes visually. Karl's dance scene. Beautiful. The film scenes outside, looked gorgeous. The use of mirrors and the TV. Great. Awesome

Connections

There were a lot of things I connected to.

Vlad's lines like I mentioned above were among the first. I've personally said or thought very similar things. Or even those exact things. I was actually shocked at first. By how real that felt for me.

Vlad being lonely, but faking it. Aha. I'm an introvert, and people know it. As much as I need space, I get lonely very easily as well. And friends online sometimes aren't enough. It's not the same as having someone there. With covid, and the fact that all of my friends live far away or are normally too busy to meet up, I very rarely am actually with friends. It almost hurts tbh. Especially since I'm a very affectionate person. Also the gay yearning hours are real and powerful.

Karl's dance scene, letting out the inner femininity. So I'm a bit different. I never came out as gay. I'm a gay trans guy. People already knew, or assumed, I liked men. However I did have the struggle of inner femininity. I hated fem things up until I was maybe 15-16, maybe almost 17. I didn't know why I hated it, I just did. Clearly now I know why. However my evolution to being a fem guy from hating fem things happened around the same time as discovering I'm not actually a girl. It was confusing 3 years (yes it took me about 3 years to piece everything together, a bit longer to settle). My point is, once I opened up to fem things, it was beautiful. It really really was. I felt more comfortable. I felt freer. I went from "ew makeup, skirts, leggings, pink. I hate it". To wearing makeup, wearing leggings, liking pink, often painting my nails. I've worn pretty short shorts with a loose t-shirt and a cardigan. Peak fem. Felt great. I want to wear a skirt, but I'm too afraid to do that. I may feel better with being fem, but society is still society and I might get looks cause "wtf, a man wearing a skirt?". Maybe one day. Uhhh anyways. The times I've grown to become more fem felt like how watching Karl dance felt like. Just like that.

Karl's struggle with his sexuality. Ok again I can't relate on the gay part, cause my coming out was coming out at trans. However yea. That was an adventure. I remember being so confused in 8th grade & 9th grade. God that was.... something. At first I thought I just wanted to be more tomboyish, more androgynous. So I found androgynous girls with short hair and said "I want this". Everyone was confused. My friends said "is there a reason you cut your hair so short?". I was afraid of that question. At the time I didn't know why I was so afraid. I don't remember exactly what I said, but tbh I was pretty defensive. Of course I later realized why I felt that way. I remember finally figuring things out after I settled into knowing I was trans, I didn't know how to come out. I couldn't say it directly. In fact, I never did. To my friends I just said "he/him, they/them pronouns" when asked at events, and of course they knew, but didn't ask more. In fact one friend found out cause I wrote "agender" on a form cause he looked over my shoulder. For my family... I just dropped a big hint, and they understood something was up. I wasn't able to explain it well then either. It took another 2-3 months till I couldn't take it anymore and did my best to explain it better so they would take it seriously. I was afraid. I couldn't say it directly. I actually didn't come out to my my high school. I was too afraid. I had friends who were out and I was jealous. I was jealous of their bravery. Same as Karl to Vlad. I was out to friends, but couldn't be open in the real world, much like Karl. I was only out within the space of the GSA, and of the local lgbt center. That was my "apartment". It was only until after i graduated where I promised myself I would live my real self.

The prom dance scene. I missed my high school's prom too. I wasn't brave enough to wear a suit. That would be like coming out and I wasn't ready. So I missed that. I wouldn't have been able to be open of course. I went to the senior dinner. I guess that was the start of me trying to be open. I went in a suit. Tailored men's dress pants too. I went with friends.

Wanting to write my own stories. That's a big one isn't it? I never really do see myself in films or tv. An autistic mentally ill gay trans masc enby? Yea, not a thing. Not a popular role in hollywood, will never be. I'm not a writer, I wanted to be as a kid, I was going to go to uni for writing, but I'm not really good enough for that. I really really do want to see more of myself in media. I wish I could be able to create such things for other people as well. Cause things like Gaya Sa Pelikula are truly magical. It literally made me cry whenever something I related to happened.

#gaya sa pelikula #like in the movies #yea its long #i am emotionally attached to this show

[dvp95]

quiet on widow’s peak (15)

pairing: dan howell/phil lester, pj liguori/sophie newton/chris kendall rating: teen & up tags: paranormal investigator, mystery, online friendship, slow burn, strangers to lovers, nonbinary character, trans character, background poly, phil does some buzzfeed unsolved shit and dan is a fan word count: 3.2k (this chapter), 49.6k (total) summary: Phil’s got a list of paranormal experiences a mile long that he likes to share with the world. Abandoned buildings, cemeteries, and ghost stories have always called his name, and a particular fan of his has a really, really good ghost story.

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

"So," Phil starts, and then pauses. He has no real idea how to say this.

His parents wait patiently for him to gather his thoughts and his mum mutes the telly. Having their undivided attention doesn't really help, it just makes Phil sweat a bit. He can't even bring himself to sit down, too wired with anxious energy as he is.

The video has only been live for a day, but it's already one of Phil's most popular. People are clamoring in the comments for more; demands for proof and simple curiosity about what could explain his experiences. He's already had a call from Martyn about the benefits of going back and doing an update, but PJ and Sophie have put their two cents in as 'absolutely not'. Chris offered a don't care and then asked for Phil's mum's lasagna recipe.

Phil wants to stay. It's not so much about the mystery, for him, but he's pretty sure his friends and maybe even his brother already know that. He's got his own reasons for not buying a train ticket the moment the video went live and asking his divisive audience what they wanted him to do. Yeah, he'd been sort of hoping for this outcome.

He's not sure if he wants to stay for himself, for the stagnation that being here allows him, or if he wants to stay for deep dimples and a nice laugh. Probably a bit of column A and a bit of column B, if he's honest with himself.

"I uploaded the video on this case," Phil tells his parents. "And there were a lot of, um, unanswered questions. Because of that whole thing with the footage."

"Phil," his dad says, exasperation in his voice already.

"And that means more money from one case," Phil presses on, "because I don't have many expenses here and the ad revenue was really good in comparison to my last five videos. Martyn really thinks I should look into this some more. I promise I won't be here for months or anything, I just - just give me another week. Please, I just need a week."

Money talk usually gets his parents to back down a bit, but they exchange a long look between them that convinces Phil it isn't going to work this time. His mind is already whirring quickly, trying to settle on arguments that it thinks might win him this battle. He considers telling them that this is more than just a video to him, that his whole future feels like it's resting on this one mystery, but he has a suspicion that they wouldn't be very impressed with that lack of foresight. He's ready to bring out specific numbers when their silent communication breaks and his mum gives him a small smile.

"Phil," she says, echoing his dad with a bit more warmth and a lot more pity. "You know we need to talk about this, dear, why don't you sit down?"

He shakes his head and shoves his hands into his hoodie pockets so they don't see the trembling. He's not scared, he's just anxious, and his brain and body are conspiring to make him feel like he's going to die if something unexpected happens.

Phil doesn't like change. He doesn't like seeing his childhood house like this, he doesn't like having his career up in the air, and he doesn't like the way his parents no longer trust him to do what's best for himself. The worst part is that he's not even sure they're wrong - Phil knows he isn't thinking logically right now, that Martyn is the one who even mentioned ad revenue while Phil was busy wondering how best to prove himself.

"I'm good," says Phil. He hopes that the nerves aren't as palpable as they feel to him.

"Okay, well," his mum says, briskly rearranging things on the coffee table like she has to be doing something with her hands while they talk about this. He's reminded a bit of Dan in the coffee shop, of Chris in the attic, and he wonders what it is about him that makes people need to split their focus like that. "Your dad and I have been talking."

"About how I need to grow up?" Phil offers, heart in his throat. It feels like he might laugh or cry at any moment. "Yeah. I've noticed."

"We're retiring, Phil," his dad says. That's not exactly news to Phil - he knows why they're selling the house, after all - but he bites his tongue and lets his dad speak. "We've understood the... unstable nature of your work for several years now, but we can't keep bailing you out whenever you have a bad month. You're a smart man and you've got a good degree, you should have something steadier under your belt."

"We love how creative you are," Phil's mum chimes in. It almost sounds like they've practiced this. Phil bites down harder. "And if you can channel that creativity in a way that isn't so dangerous, you'll have our full support."

Phil kind of wishes that he already had their full support, but he's already had this conversation with himself. The work isn't fun for him anymore, and the risk of getting arrested for trespassing isn't a low one. It's almost not worth it when he doesn't have that full-blown excitement about a case.

He doesn't need every haunt to have a nice ending wrapped up with a bow, but he does need to like the content he's producing. Otherwise there isn't any point to it.

Still. It sucks to hear.

Phil deflates a little bit. His automatic defensiveness that springs up whenever his parents start questioning his many bad decisions in life is fading to something that feels like bone-deep exhaustion. The anxiety is still there, thrumming under his skin, but there's nothing he can really do about that. The truth is that he's been feeling listless and defeated and trapped for a lot longer than he's been back in his parents' house. There's no real point in pretending otherwise.

"Give me a week," he repeats, quiet. "I want to finish this project either way, y'know? Just let me stay for the rest of this week and - and if it doesn't pan out, if I don't find anything new, then... then I'm done. I'll stop. I'll find something else."

"Are you sure, sweetheart?" his mum asks. The relief that pulls at her shoulders and her pursed lips is enough for Phil to be sure.

"Yeah," says Phil. He gives them a little shrug. "I'm comfortable with what I'm doing. I like making videos and exploring places with cool stories, and even talking to people has been getting better. But you're... you've got a point. I can't keep doing this forever. Not at the pace and quality I like to maintain. If this video goes well, it might help me break into a more diverse and less dangerous niche, which would make everyone happy, I think."

His dad nods at him. "Okay. You can stay until Sunday, because that's when we're going to the Isle. You can do whatever editing and post-production stuff you need to when you get back to Brighton. We'll expect a call when you know for sure what you're going to do, Phil."

Phil swallows, clenches his fists tighter in his pockets. "You'll be the first to know."

--

Nobody asks Phil to leave, but he can't stay in the aggressively neutral version of his parents' house and field their 'casual' questions about what sort of things he might want to do if YouTube doesn't work. He escapes to the city again, sending a message to Dan on the bus. Instead of asking if they want to hang out with him, he simply asks where he can meet them today. As if it's a given that they're going to be spending time together.

Maybe that's presumptuous of him, but Dan uses an exclamation mark when they reply, im at home!, so Phil thinks it's probably fine.

Dan meets him at the door this time, mid-ramble about the broken dishwasher in their flat as if social niceties are no longer expected of them. That suits Phil. He grins back at Dan and joins them in the small but tidy galley kitchen, letting Dan talk his ear off while they scrub at some discoloured Tupperware.

"Sorry," Dan interrupts themself, turning big and apologetic eyes on Phil like they've just registered that he's standing there. "I'm having a weird brain day. Bit all over the place, you know."

"That's fine," Phil says honestly. He smiles, because Dan doesn't look all that convinced by it. "No, really, I don't mind. I like listening to you talk."

The blush spreads across Dan's face too quickly for them to hide by turning away. They try, anyway, and Phil is left looking at their face in profile, turned down and rosy as it is. "Normally I at least break for breath. What's new with you?"

"Since two days ago?" Phil teases. Dan's dimple makes an appearance right before the smile splits their face, and Phil has to twist his own fingers together so he doesn't reach out and poke at it. He's still working through some stuff, still doesn't want to make any decisions about this without thinking it over carefully, but he's never been good at resisting temptation either. "Uh, not much. My parents are still on my case. I'm getting good feedback on the video, but you probably know that already."

"It was a good video," says Dan. They pause as they dry their big hands on an old tea towel. "I... appreciate you saying that stuff about me."

"I didn't say anything that wasn't true."

Dan meets his eyes again, almost stubbornly ignoring the colour in their own cheeks. "I can appreciate things that you think are true, dingus. Take the gratitude already."

Phil grins. "Never."

--

There are snacks after that and some video games that Phil loses spectacularly and some good ferret snuggles. As the afternoon turns to evening, Phil watches Dan rearrange some titles on the bookshelf as they chatter about one of their science-y classes, no longer self conscious about how much they're talking. He's sitting on Dan's soft, unmade bed with Pixel, who keeps rolling around in the sheets like she's trying to get comfortable.

Phil is already comfortable. It's hard for him to ignore that Dan's bedroom feels so much like a safe haven in the way that his old house no longer does.

At some point Dan gives up on whatever system they were trying to implement. They pick Tofu up off the floor and flop onto the bed with Phil, wiggling around in almost the exact same way Pixel had. Phil presses his lips together tightly so he doesn't laugh.

"I think that things can be improved," Dan is saying, and Phil tries to figure out if they're still talking about the environment or if Dan has picked up the loose thread from their earlier rant about Bethesda. Pixel and Tofu are both running around like Dan and Phil are just bony jungle gyms, and Dan barely even stutters when one of them steps on their nose. "Of course they can be improved, it's not something you just give up on when things get tough, but the problem is that the people in charge have to implement the changes that are necessary for improvement, and - ow, that's my ear, don't bite that - and, uh... where was I?"

"You were telling me about climate change," says Phil. "Or potentially Todd Howard's ambivalence towards a quote-unquote 'perfect game'. I honestly lost track."

For a moment, Dan is quiet. Phil's anxiety rears its head for the first time since he got here, but luckily he hasn't stuck his foot in his mouth this time - Dan starts laughing, more or less cackling, and they roll closer to Phil to bury their face in a pillow.

Phil grins and reaches out to tug at one of Dan's curls, fascinated by the way it just springs back into place. He's done this to PJ once or twice or six times, but he's usually had a couple drinks before he resorts to it. Dan comes out of hiding with tears of laughter welling up in their pretty brown eyes and their dimples in full force, grinning up at Phil like he's the funniest person in the world.

"Those are both really important issues," Dan says, trying their best to sound deadpan when they're so obviously gleeful.

They wiggle around again and Phil says, "You look exactly like Pixel when you do that."

He's pretty sure that Dan honks at that, but he's immediately distracted by a ferret trying to bite his eyebrow.

This is good. Phil likes this. He's trying to dig himself out of the mindset that he'd backed himself into when he first started noticing Dan, because PJ might have had a point. Okay, so PJ definitely had a point, and Phil has been a bit of an idiot.

He won't know for sure how Dan feels about him being gay and uncompromising about that fact unless he asks, and he doesn't think he's ready to do that just yet. But there's a rainbow flag on Dan's wall and they don't consider themselves not not a guy, so... Phil thinks that maybe he's been assigning a strictness to Dan's own relationship to gender and sexuality that isn't actually there.

Dan is talking again, to their ferrets this time, and Phil is almost overwhelmed by the force of affection that washes over him now that he isn't trying so hard to hold it back. Dan's leg is pressed against his own and they're holding Pixel up like they're playing airplane with her and Phil likes them so goddamn much.

"Did you want to," Phil starts, interrupting Dan's musing about what goes on in a ferret's tiny brain. Dan looks up at him with such genuine happiness on their face that Phil's words stick in his throat. He should be asking if Dan wants to go out for dinner again or if they've seen whatever blockbuster action film is playing in cinemas this week, but that's not what comes out of his mouth. When Dan raises their eyebrows quizzically, what Phil ends up asking is, "Uh, come spend the night in the haunted house with me?"

Great. Real romantic.

--

Dan doesn't make a secret about how much they hate this plan. They say it over and over, but they don't take any of the outs that Phil offers them.

"I hate this plan," Dan says as they make a bunch of sandwiches. It seems like way too much for just the two of them, but Phil isn't about to say no to having a near endless supply of peanut butter and bread when they're stuck in a dusty attic again. "This is stupid. You should have just left it at the first video, Phil, that was fine."

"You don't have to come with me," Phil reminds them for the umpteenth time.

Dan glares. "No, I'm coming."

"You're a very complicated person," says Phil.

With a heavy sort of sigh, like they've been dealing with Phil for years instead of a week, Dan finally sets the peanut butter down. "Look," they say, pointing the dull knife at Phil for emphasis. "I can hate this plan and still want to make sure you don't get fucking arrested or possessed or trip down the stairs or something. PJ knows where I live."

"I think he'd be in the camp of me deserving it if I died in the Wilkins place," Phil says, his lips tugging into a grin. "But thank you."

"Yeah, yeah," Dan mutters. "Will you at least tell me why we're going back? I know you're fucking stubborn and all, but I didn't figure you for someone who beats dead horses."

"Oh, that's a terrible idiom," Phil says, mostly to himself. He reaches out to squeeze Dan's shoulder when he sees them get all huffy at the apparent avoidance. The tension leaving Dan's body under his palm is frustrating to feel, because there's nothing Phil wants more than to lean into it. The problem, of course, is that he really does need to talk to Dan before he starts trying to hug them in their own kitchen. Phil lets his hand drop awkwardly between them and shrugs. "Well, uh. This is the first time in a long time I've actually been excited about a project. And that makes me think that maybe I've worn out my welcome here. Not... not here like Manchester here, but here like... my job, here."

Dan leans their hip against the counter and looks at Phil with their brow all furrowed. "This is an ultimatum," they say. "Like, to yourself."

"Yeah," says Phil. "I need to solve this - or at least find something else that I can show to people. Because if I don't, then I need to actually look at myself and admit I'm not doing something I like anymore."

"It sounds like you're already looking at yourself," Dan says quietly.

"I guess."

"No, you are," Dan insists, their voice stronger now that they can assert an opinion. "Trust me, I'm a pro at unproductive self-reflection and existentialism. Who am I, what does it all matter, I know the song and dance. And I don't think that getting more footage is going to erase what you're already thinking, Phil. Tell me if I'm out of line, whatever, but if you want to do something else with your life then just do something else with your life."

The automatic defensiveness threatens to make Phil snap back at Dan that this isn't any of their business, but he's had a lot of practice in keeping his negative thoughts to himself. He gives Dan a little humourless smile and shrugs his shoulders.

"You're twenty-one," Phil says. "And a student. I don't really expect you to get it."

Dan puts their hands on their hips like they're settling in for a proper row, but instead they just say, "I know. I don't know what you're going through, sure, I doubt anyone knows what anyone else is going through at any time. And, yeah, I've got another year before I have to worry about my career. But I've made some fucking tough decisions in my life, mate. I dropped out of my law course after two lectures. I don't talk to my family anymore. I've tried on so many different names and labels that it would make your head spin. You don't like your job anymore, and one video isn't going to change that."

"Yeah, probably not." Phil looks down at their little collection of sandwiches, feeling lost and stubborn and a bit scared about how much Dan sees him. "But I have to try, y'know? I can't just give up. I have to try."

There's a long moment of silence. Then, Dan sighs.

"Okay. Put these in a container, we don't use unnecessary plastic in this flat. Just whatever they fit in. I'll make some coffee for the road and find our Scrabble board."

#quiet on widow's peak #words words words

[dredshirtroberts]

Hooooo boy we are feelin some EMOTIONS today, folks.

this is not a happy post, if you’d like to skip I entirely understand, and in fact encourage doing so.

I’ve been needing to do a one of these for a lil bit because I’ve got Thoughts and Feelings and they are complicated and I can’t accurately parse them in my head so we’re gonna air it out on Tumblr like a sheet on the line during laundry day.

here’s the thing.

I got some complicated family feelings in my chest places and it fucking *sucks*.

I was kept from spending time with my family by various means over the past several years to the point where I wasn’t attending holidays - which, in my family, is just not done. You can skip a holiday but you have to make it up on another occasion and I...wasn’t doing that anymore. Two separate people had me convinced I was not loved by my family, that they did not care for or appreciate me like *they* could and that I was better off not being around my family.

And maybe they had some valid points. Which I hate admitting because they used a lot of “valid points” to get me to be completely isolated in life without anyone but them and any time I branched out I was, for lack of a better term, “punished” for having denied them my attention or time or whatever. (this is of course not as nuanced a take on it as I would prefer but this is already going to be long without me going through the whole...everything, again. You can search the captain rambles and life post tags on my blog for more on this topic).

Anyway...so I’m no longer with people who are actively trying to keep me from talking to other people/being around people who are supportive of my own efforts and goals, etc. And I was welcomed back into my family with open arms and that was...honestly unexpected. After everything I’d had told to me about how they were and how they should be and what I should feel about them...I wasn’t expecting them to love me.

I rode that rose-colored wave for a *while*. But as the world descends into chaos and I learn more things about myself that make me feel more like *me* than I have...possibly ever now that I try and think about it, I am seeing things that I had hoped had been exaggerated or made up by those in my life who had hurt me.

My parents raised me in a very right-wing conservative household. The evangelical style of christianity didn’t come until I was already an adult but the building blocks must have been there or it wouldn’t have happened so...extremely when it finally did. There were a lot of...really shitty attitudes towards other people that I didn’t recognize growing up in it - I didn’t recognize it until a lot later, in fact.

They’re...They don’t see anything wrong with the way they are. Which, you know, *sucks*. 

There’s going to be a lot of dismissive phrases littered throughout this because I’m trying to be...i don’t know. I do it as a thing to lighten the mental load on myself - dismissiveness and joking around, exaggerating for effect, etc. - which i know might come off weird but like...this is really fucking bothering me guys and I...I’m doing my best.

Cause here’s the thing. I was raised believing the world was one way and that we were *right* about things. We had the answers and anyone (liberals) who didn’t agree with us were wrong and would either see the light and come to our side or were too stupid to know how wrong they were so we wouldn’t have associated with them anyway. (reasons why i’m currently frustrated with the political opposition to Republicans/Conservatives/The Right #1 actually)

And then I grew up and I saw the world was not that way. And I expected that my family would be able to see the world with the insight I had gained, and..they just...don’t.

I’ve excused a lot of their shit beliefs recently. not like, trying to defend them to anyone or anything but I don’t confront them. Mostly because I know while they won’t say it to my face, I know how they think about people who think like me (because I was there for those conversations, I was there and I thought like them and now i don’t and that makes me one of those idiots they talked about, a stupid person who can’t see the truth they believe so fully that they think is backed up by facts and figures but their facts and figures are *flawed* - mine aren’t better but I can acknowledge that and extrapolating data from all the things and coming to a conclusion is what I was taught to do but now that I do it for the wrong side what must they think of me? What must they say behind my back?)

I have...a lot of kinda fucked up shit about my family. Nothing overt, nothing that immediately screams to me “Hey fuck-o, this shit isn’t a universal experience and something is wrong here!” but it’ll be small things that I’m like “Ah, okay. Not everyone had this experience and those that did are currently working through the *trauma* of it by going to *therapy*. Hm.”

I’ve done some work in that respect and that’s good. Doesn’t make my issues go away but makes it so I can handle them a little better. Most of the time anyway.

I’m trying to make several things that are true but contradictory work together in my brain and it’s not going well.

1) my family cares about me and wants me to do well.

2) my family has hurt me in the past and is currently hurting me (though not intentionally and not maliciously - please dear god let it be unintentional and non-malicious). 

3) My family does not “agree” with LGBTetc people.

4) My family do not believe that there are systemic issues inherent in the government we live in/under and the society we must participate in (Because it benefits them, and they have not had to challenge their thoughts on this before).

5) My family are kind of racist.

6) My family was my only support system when I was leaving an abusive situation.

7) ...My family might have abused me a little.

I go back and forth on point seven a *lot*. See point 2 about the intentionality/maliciousness factors. If they didn’t mean to do it, does it still count? 

Does it matter if it still hurts?

My sister outright told me that she doesn’t agree with trans people (meaning she doesn’t believe you can be trans, really). But I’m okay because it’s me, and now I can be her gay best friend when we’re drinking at family stuff.

She didn’t understand why I was hurt by that. I attempted to explain it and she got defensive and angry so I just...didn’t fight about it. Just played the part. I’m her brother when it benefits her but otherwise I’m still her sister. I’m still mom and dad’s daughter. Even though I told them I’m not a girl. I told them I’m a guy.

Dad’s response was the most favorable initially and I think...he might eventually come around to it (he’s always wanted a son. he has a boy dog and has also imprinted really hard on his lawn roomba about it). He also might...not.

I’d like to transition further. Eventually. If it’s feasible. But also, right now it’s not. Right now it’s me cutting my hair short and not wearing dresses or skirts (even though they’re super comfy) because I want to avoid being misgendered as often as possible. It’s binding for uncomfortable and unsafe lengths of time because I am a MAN dammit, and I will be a man at this family function in whatever way I can. And when I go to the length that I do to be seen the way I want to be seen and I am *ignored*....

fuckin’ hurts you guys. I just fuckin’ hurts. 

And I want to correct them. I want to stand up and say STOP YOU’RE HURTING ME. PLEASE. I AM NOT A GIRL. I HAVEN’T BEEN THIS WHOLE TIME I JUST DIDN’T KNOW WHY I DIDN’T FEEL RIGHT AS A GIRL. PLEASE JUST CALL ME A BOY, USE MY PRONOUNS, USE A NEW NAME OR AT LEAST THE NICKNAME THAT ISN’T MY FULL NAME. 

but i don’t.

because I’m scared of losing them again.

And it’s fucked up because they’re *already* lost. They’re Fox-watchers and Trump-supporters and they don’t want to listen to science or facts or *anything* outside of what’s presented to them by pundits and talk show hosts, and the fucking EIB network with their political propaganda for anything that isn’t what the liberals want.

And I don’t know that I can get them back because they’re *real* far down that particular rabbit hole. And I’m...I’m just trying to figure out what I want in life. What makes me happy. And part of what I want is what I always wanted and never had.

I want my mom and dad to look at me, see me, see what I do see how I try and what I love and care about and tell me that I’m enough. That they love me because this is who I am and I am enough for them. Even if I wasn’t accomplished and didn’t try they would still love me because I’m *me*. and I’m their *child* and they *love me*.

And GOD it is so FUCKING painful to know that’s not a realistic thing to hope for. Because I’ve been trying for 28 GODDAMN years doing ANYTHING and EVERYTHING I can to be enough for them. I played good, christian, conservative little girl for SO goddamn long, even when I wasn’t Christian or conservative anymore, even when I saw the cracks, I wanted to be what they wanted.

And even now that I *am* what my dad wanted (a son) I’m not enough because to him i’m still a girl, to my mom I’m the failed daughter the one she didn’t do enough for so now it’s about how she fucked up and not about NO. This is ME. Stop. Stop LOOKING at me like that WHEN YOU DON’T SEE ME. YOU SEE SOME IDEALIZED VERSION OF ME WHO WAS NEVER GOING TO EXIST BECAUSE SHE WASN’T ENOUGH EITHER.

...

This is a lot more than I thought it would be, pain wise tonight, guys. My bad. 

I’m still struggling with my eating habits, I’m still struggling with my self-worth, and finding what makes me feel fulfilled. I’m getting better at some of it though.

I’ve smiled and laughed more in the past week or so than I have since I came out to my family. I wouldn’t have done that without my very very good friends who are very very kind to me and god I wish I could do more than draw stupid pictures and write stupid stories for them but it makes them happy too? so i’ll just do what I can and maybe it’ll be alright. 

Gonna try not to fall too deep down the abandonment issues pit tonight folks. I’m already upset enough. 

Good talk.

#I was fine and then all of the sudden I was no longer fine #whoops #lol #processing trauma'll do that to a guy i guess #the captain rambles #LIFE POST #haven't tagged that in a while heh #not feelin so great tonight babes but i'll be alright eventually #i love all of you very much and if you ever feel lost or alone or are hurting (esp because of family) please know i am here for you #i don't want any of you to feel that way about it #come to my DMs send me an ask whatever you need #i love you be safe be healthy and most of all be kind

[heyktula]

Closer, Chapter Three: Consensual - Bonus Features

Chapter three of Closer, the first installment in Somewhere in Canada (the Terror kink AU)... is now up! It's a long one again! The author continues to not be sorry!

Same deal as last week--technical notes first, story notes after, line notes to finish it all up.

Alright, here we go.

Technical Considerations:

Language: Phew, okay. So, I've written plenty of "hard kink written hard" (and arguably some "soft kink written hard"), but with this piece, I specifically wanted to do "hard kink written soft" so, uh, language is a thing! Ie, the sentence "Edward curled his hand into a fist and punched Jopson" does not belong in this fic, because there is nothing soft about that sentence no matter how much Edward loves him positive regard Edward is feeling toward his play partner.

So in order to make this fly the way I wanted to (ie, softly), I tried to avoid over-use of words like "fist", "hit", "punch", and that type of thing. I ended up in a really interesting rabbit hole that I think helped me get further into Edward's head, because the narrative had to become more focused on the technical aspects of what he's doing, and the physical results it's having on Jopson. It also emphasizes the continual assessment of how things are going that's necessary to do this kind of play safely--especially when it's the first time doing this type of play with a partner. And, it's in-character--Edward is an over-thinker anyway.

(I think the scene would have been softer, and probably more romantic, in Jopson's POV, but it would have been far blurrier as well, because he's pretty deep in subspace.)

While I'm talking about language, I'll just mention one other thing--Edward's knowledge of trans men has been academic up to this point, and he's approaching it the same way he approaches everything else, which is listening, learning as fast as he can, and taking Jopson's lead. It also means he's using--and will continue to use--the same language for Jopson as he would for any other man.

Capitalization of Sir: There's a whole entire thing in some subsets of BDSM about capitalization. At the extreme end, all references to the dominant are capitalized, all references to the submissive are lower case, and all references to both are split-capped (is that how it's referred to? I have no idea, but it describes what I mean, so I'm going with it.). It can lead to sentences like "In the dungeon, My pet, michael, always follows the rules W/we have agreed on".

I can't see either Jopson or Little going for that, so we have the more casual version of it going on here--"Sir" is capitalized, but everything else is conventionally capitalized. In a (hypothetical) situation where Jopson was collared to Edward, but referred to someone else in a casual "yes, sir" way, "sir" would be lower case. But then, for extra confusion, for someone like Sir John, where the sir is part of his scene name, it'd stay capitalized, even though Jopson's not collared to him.

(For some reason, I can't picture Sir John not using Sir John as a scene name. James Clark Ross, on the other hand, I feel can take or leave the title unless he's entered into a formal arrangement with someone, in which case that's between him and Ann and whoever else to sort something out.)

Hard Cuts: That's right, I put a hard cut in the middle of the dungeon scene. In my defense, it takes a while to bruise someone whose skin is resistant to bruising, and it's a very repetitive process. Jopson and Edward had a perfectly nice time without us, and I documented most of the good bits for you. (I do feel a bit bad for skipping the majority of the aftercare, but imo, the story arc is fine as it is, and we see enough to know that Jopson has his jacket around his shoulders the way he wanted it, so we can assume Edward bossed it out for the rest of the aftercare too.)

Story Considerations:

Bootblacking: I am not a bootblack. Ideally, this isn't obvious, because I did Online Research, but for people who do bootblack, I'm sorry if I fucked it up.

Also, one thing that I learned in the course of my research is that there's two different kinds of boots--regular boots, which need to be polished, and then oil-tanned boots, which need to be conditioned instead. I gave Edward oil-tanned boots, because that involves a hell of a lot of leg massage via rubbing conditioner into the boot, and I wanted Edward to have a nice tactile experience. (Okay, fine, I also wanted Jopson to be able to show off his skillset.)

Consent Negotiation: I love consent negotiation. I think it's great foreplay, a great way to build hype for a scene, and I think it gives you a sense of a person before you go in and do intimate and/or dangerous stuff with them. I think Edward's initial plan for having the consent negotiation once they'd moved over to the mats was good. I think Jopson's plan of doing the consent negotiation while Edward was a captive audience getting his boots conditioned was better.

There's so many bits and pieces to consent negotiation as well--there's the physical bit (like medical conditions and whether you've had food/water recently--after all, you're putting your body through something challenging, and if you're dehydrated or fasting, that's not ideal conditions), there's the mental bit (like not liking to be humiliated, and any trigger words or actions that should be avoided), and then there's the actual activities that you're going to plan on doing. Typically, there would be an additional bit, and that would be the sharing of STI results. Edward skipped that during this negotiation for two reasons--firstly, he generally just does dry play, ie, no body fluids exchanged. And, secondly, no sex in this particular dungeon. As it turned out, it wouldn't have hurt to have done that.

(Jopson clearly did his own risk assessment on the barrier-free blowjob, and was fine with his chances--but, then, I suspect if you read between the lines on Edward's blog, the lack of a fluid-bonded partner, or an intimate partner of any kind, would have been apparent.)

Dungeon Monitors: Dungeon monitors (DMs) are present in most dungeons, except the play-at-your-own-risk-in-someone's-basement type (and sometimes even those have them). Their general function is to make sure that people are safe, that equipment is being cleaned properly after use, that medical treatment is provided if it's needed, and that type of thing. I figured the medical team was a good translation, so between Goodsir and McDonald, they're splitting the dungeon between themselves for the first chunk of the night. (Presumably Peddie and Stanley are on the later shift, or maybe Bridgens is assisting, but either way, Edward was not paying attention and did not care.)

(I bet Stanley hates dungeon shifts.)

DMs generally wear vests or some sort of gear that makes them easy to spot, which is especially important when they're almost always members of the community as well, meaning that they need to distinguish between when they're on duty, and when they're playing. The radios are handy in case an ambulance needs to be called, which does sometimes happen, but it's also good to allow them to communicate with each other.

For the majority of play, it's not necessary to talk to a DM beforehand. (YMMV, consult your dungeon rules, etc.) In Edward and Jopson's case, since they're going fairly hard, it's a good idea to give a heads-up to your DM to let them know that the scene is happening. McDonald would have been watching them pretty sharply as the play got going, and then probably less so once they settled into it.

Edward noticed exactly zero of this, because he didn't care.

(I guess an additional note there is that sometimes there's a "fear factor" involved in physical play, where the dominant/top partner is specifically and consensually trying to instigate a fear reaction in the submissive/bottom partner. So in that case, having a DM aware of what's happening and what the safewords are is real important to make sure that everything is above-board, ie, the safewords aren't being deliberately ignored.)

Dungeon Rules: They totally would have fucked if they hadn't been in Canada.

Sorry to both of them, but sorry to Jopson in particular.

Subspace: So subspace is basically an altered state of consciousness that can be dropped into during BDSM play. Every submissive/bottom gets there at different speeds and through different methods. Jopson is a masochist, so pain will get him there--but he's deeply into ritual as well, and so just the act of bootblacking for an hour prior to Edward getting there has already gotten him started on that path--though, as he notes, not far enough that he can't pull himself back out of it if it's no longer appropriate to be in it. It's sort of like a hot bath, in that way--if you've just dipped your toes in it, fine, you can go answer the doorbell. But if you've been submerged in the tub for an hour, you're not getting out unless something really pressing happens.

The general, uh, fuzzy nature of subspace means that Edward's call not to discuss facefucking was a good one, because Jopson would have just said yes, and Edward would have derailed himself wondering if it was an honest yes. As it was, Edward got the unprompted deepthroating, and I don't think he has any regrets whatsoever about that one.

Line Notes:

There’s no way for Jopson to know that Edward purchased two collars for him, but he’s showing off his neck like he’s trying to make a point of it, like he’s trying to bring out all the possessive bits that Edward is trying to keep tamped down.

That's exactly what he's doing, Edward. He's trying to gently coax you into going feral on him.

He should have adjusted his dick before he sat down, but it’s too late to do that now without being territorial about it.

Tozer wouldn't hesitate for one moment. He adjusts his dick when he feels like it. Just as an aside.

I don’t see you, Edward wants to say. How have I lived my entire fucking life without ever having seen you?

It's because you and Tozer go to the shittier clubs with louder music and younger people, and I don't think Jopson has been to a club like that in his entire life.

(God, I have, like, an entire essay worth of headcanons about Jopson and his Terror and Erebus experiences.)

“Safeword,” Edward says, after some time has passed.

Jopson looks up at him, eyes wide, and says nothing.

So, we were talking about Jopson's risk assessments earlier, re: the blowjob, and here's another point where Jopson is flirting with the possibility of playing with Edward irresponsibly.  I think there's a couple different things to observe here--and the first is that the ideal response is the one that Edward gives, which is essentially "absolutely fuck that, we'll play with a safeword that you're going to use when you need it, or we won't play at all". The other responses are...less than ideal, but Jopson might have still played with Edward under those circumstances anyways, and that's on Joppie to justify, cuz I'm not gonna bend over backwards to justify that for him. I do think, though, that there's a couple points that happen over the course of the weekend where nobody would blame Jopson if he was doing an assessment and figuring out--is there the possibility of a long-term thing here, or is this a one-weekend-only thing? And in every case, Edward is coming down solidly into the long-term possibility category.

Jopson frees the laces, runs them between his fingers. “I’ll get chatty before I get quiet. When I stop responding verbally when you speak to me, pull me back out, please—speak to me, get me something to drink. Drape my jacket back over my shoulders.” His mouth twists a moment. “I may get…affectionate, but you shouldn’t—”

There's so much here that I want to talk about! First of all, Jopson is highly comfortable with and cognizant of his own response to this type of play, and he's able to articulate that response very clearly--which is something that comes with experience. He's communicating to Edward the point where he wants the play to stop--ie, when he no longer responds verbally--and he's also clear about what needs to be done to gently tug him back out of it. (Coming back out of it isn't always required, but in this case, since they're sleeping separately and working in the morning, it's for the best.)

If Jopson had finished his last sentence, it would have been along the lines of "I may get affectionate, but you shouldn't take it seriously if I do". I pulled directly from Jopson's abandonment issues in canon for that one, and it hurts my feelings to put it here, but it's here so that Edward can respond appropriately this time. I think any feelings that Jopson has during scenes are legitimate--but I also suspect, based on this, that Jopson has been affectionate during scenes before, and had that affection rebuffed, or had it indicated to him that the affection wasn't welcome or needed, so he's used to disclaiming it. Which, ouch.

“Good job,” he says, voice low and right next to Jopson’s ear. “Pack your things. I’m coming back for you.”

Speaking of AU!Edward Littles that didn't fuck up their decisions, here's one right here.

His hand is pleasantly tingling, his mind starting to fuzz out with endorphins, and he wants Jopson to feel the same—

So Edward puts literally zero thought into his own headspace throughout this scene, because that's the kind of POV character he is, but you can see the beginning of his...actually, I don't even know the word for it. Whatever the equivalent of subspace is for doms, Edward is getting into it.

I like symmetry

Says the man with the tattoo on one arm. Alright, Ned. Alright.

"Mrf." Jopson swallows, the movement of his neck something Edward can actually feel, now that he's carrying Jopson fully. "Don’t want to derail the scene—I just—a minute—your cock is quite distracting."

I love that all the physical play was just fine, but it's being nestled against Edward's hardon that makes Jopson need a minute. (Which, fair.)

“Yeah,” Edward manages. “I can—I can do that. You, uh, the safewords?”

One of the things I really love about Edward here is that when he gets overwhelmed with how awesome something is, he reverts back to safety and checking in with his partner. (I'm pretty sure you could contrast that with Tozer, who I'm pretty sure would just talk filth until he'd gotten a grip on things again, and Crozier, who I see as pretty unflappable during play considering that he hasn't met a certain "online guy" yet.)

“I can’t believe we can’t fuck in here,” Jopson mutters grouchily.

Couldn't get ploughed in the dungeon the way I wanted, 0/10 on TripAdvisor.

Edward puts his hands behind his head, tugs at his own hair a moment to ground himself, and then curls his hands into fists where Jopson can’t see them, brings them down and around, quick and sudden, thumping the sides of his hands into Jopson’s ribs.

The very first time I was in a rough play workshop, this move was demonstrated. The demo bottom was facing the audience, and the presenter was sitting on a table behind him. They had him put his hands behind his neck and just stand there and wait while they was talking about something else, but from our position in the audience, we could see them raise their hands above their head, and knew what they were going to do, because they mimed it out for us first. I think that's where I fell in love with this kind of play, because they made it fun.

“I’ll go faster for the rest,” Edward promises. “Keep counting, and you’ll get your reward on five.”

Or, you know, on six, because one of you wanted five hits in a row and restarted the count on purpose, and the other one of you stuck to your promise of going with a verbal command of five because there wasn’t enough time to go through the whole ‘what is the correct response here’ and muscle memory won out over anxiety domming. (You can save your “oops”, Jopson, we all know it’s insincere.) 

Jopson doesn’t scream. His entire body goes stiff, breath sucking quick into his lungs and his fingernails digging sharply into Edward’s bare back, legs clenching around Edward’s thigh, and it’s like time just fucking stops for one ecstatic moment until Jopson goes limp, his hands patting randomly on Edward’s back, over the scratches he’s just left in Edward’s skin that Edward is going to treasure forever, because he did that to Jopson and he’s going to wear these scratches with fucking pride.

Y'all, Edward "so excited about the part where he scratched me that I completely missed the part where he came" Little. He'll be here all weekend.

Jopson blinks, slow and easy. “Quite lovely, thank you. Everything cleaned up?”

I'm deeply in favour of doms who look after cleaning up the space while their subs recover. I'm not convinced that Little and Jopson will fall into that pattern permanently, but I think it's a sweet gesture on Edward's part that he looks after everything for their first time. It's also a very encouraging thing for Jopson--because, say, if he was trying to make sure that he wasn't going to have his service taken for granted, this is a good indication that it won't be.

Edward feels vaguely like he should demur, out of manners, or, uh. Concern for Jopson’s knees, or—or his, um. Aftercare. Or. Or something.

I love deep POV.

Edward raises his eyebrows, deliberately puts his hands flat on the wall behind him. He’s suddenly very, very hard. “I’m not gonna stop you if you want to do it yourself,” he says, voice rough. “That’s hot as fuck.”

*eyeballs emoji*

(And we can make a note of that particular detail for the next chapter, when Edward awkwardly discloses something that Jopson already suspects--or, at least, would suspect if he weren't currently high as fuck on happy endorphins.)

“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” Edward says. He swallows. “I—uh. Sorry, this is stupid, I forgot they were there—I generally do, you know, warn people in advance, this isn’t how I normally—I, uh.”

I suspect the actual issue here is that the last time Edward had his dick sucked, there wasn't nearly as much metal in it, so "hey my dick is heavily pierced" isn't a conversation that he's used to having, but Edward can excuse this however he likes.

...it’s just—he’s just—he’s never—not without his partner gagging, and there were always other things they could do, there were always—fuck—this was never a priority...

Little refuses to think of his own dick as big, because it's the dick he's always had, so unfortunately, this is the closest we're gonna get to confirmation of his dick size in his POV.

Edward can feel—oh, fuck, no, that’s not just his cock, he can feel his own piercings in Jopson’s throat, the hard balls of the barbells firm under his fingertips, and Edward’s balls tighten.

I don't want to admit how much time I spent trying to figure out if this was a legitimate thing, but it was more than an hour, I couldn't find an answer, I have no one to ask, and I liked the mental image too much to let it go, so now we're all stuck with it.

I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not.

Edward takes a deep breath, steps into the hotel room, and shoulders his responsibilities.

Edward, sweetie. Sol would be the first one to tell you that he can handle himself.

I mean, we can all agree that he clearly didn’t handle himself particularly well tonight.

But he’d be the first one to tell you to fuck off.

Phew. That's it for this week! Chapter four, Kink, goes up next Friday, and we'll touch on Solomon Tozer's no-good very-bad day then.

And if you have questions or anything in the meantime, you can always drop me an ask on tumblr or Curious Cat. I know I didn't cover everything, even in this long-ass entry, cuz there's a fuck of a lot of stuff going on in the foreground, much less the background. I honestly don't mind if you ask, it's totally cool. :)

See you next week!

#the terror #the terror fic #fic: closer #joplittle #fic breakdown #ktula writes #fic: the terror kink au

[the-bjd-community-confess]

I don’t really get it when people have to make a “But what about” counter confession.

If someone does a confession/complaint about people making offensive/tasteless/stereotypical character portrayal of a group, through dolls, that doesn’t suddenly make it all perfectly fine, just because someone from that demographic created it.

People are often well aware that not every tasteless, or even harmful portrayal has been created by someone who is not part of the demographic, people are aware that even a gay guy can create a problematic portrayal of a gay character. Just like how someone from outside that demographic can create a good portrayal of a character from a different demographic. Eg: A straight male can create a good gay male character. This, in case people are seriously wondering, is because characters aren’t just one specific label. A gay character isn’t (or shouldn’t be) just “The gay character, who’s gay.” if the character is well written, then it’s more like “This is a character, with his own personality, and story, who’s also gay.” Not to mention that research exists.

Of course there’s also people being utterly ridiculous, where people will throw a fit because: “You created a 30 yo lesbian character, but you’re not a 30 yo lesbian? How dare you, that’s UNACCEPTABLE!” Who need to calm down. No matter if they’re not-part, or actually part of that demographic. Humans aren’t a hivemind, so obviously characters can vary widely, there’s no way in Hell or Heaven, that there’s only “One true character of demographic X”. So

But if a bunch of people tell you, separately, in their own words say: “Hey, I find this portrayal of demographic X to be stereotypical in a very harmful way, I don’t like that.”

Is it really needed to come out, white knight, and go “But some people from "demographic” create these characters!“

People know, especially people who deal with this stuff. It’s also a bad argument, it’s not gonna make the portrayal better in anyone’s view, insiders or outsiders, just because of who the creator is. It also gives a vibe of "I don’t care about the other people IN the demographic, who originally said they dislike the portrayal of their demographic in those ways.”

People can be annoyed, and maybe even disgusted by portrayals of sexuality/race/ethnicity by people, without needing to be reminded that people from that demographic create these characters.

The concepts of: live and let live, and being able to critique these portrayals, are not mutually exclusive. Someone can accept that these creations exist, and leave people alone about it, while also being able, and allowed to complain, critique, and even rant about these creations in their own space, or, as in this case, on public confession blogs. It’s obviously totally unacceptable when it gets personal, or to actually harassing specific people.

Yes, someone from that group can create these characters. Maybe some people are gonna be rude about it, and get personal, but that’s not all the people who’re against these portrayals.

And it’s not like this is gonna stop people from creating these characters, portrayals of the LGBTA, different ethnic groups, and races have always existed, both by people from these groups, and outsiders, and they’ll definitely continue to exist, because there are often people who’ll like, or find these characters interesting, or easier to “connect to”, for personal reasons.

Main reason I’m saying this, is because it feels like people are, in a way, belittling genuine concerns, and discomfort of people, by saying “But think about the other people!” as if the person’s criticism isn’t valid, or their feelings should be considered offensive because SOMEONE who likes these portrayals, or does the, could read them.

It also sounds like trying to push away people’s concerns, or the feelings of people, and pitting them against each other, instead of just accepting that there are people who are annoyed by these things.

Create what you want to, but don’t be surprised when people call out the perpetuating of harmful stereotypes. Like the “trans men aren’t real men”, they’re just “men-lite soft uwu baby boys.” Or “trans women are just men in drag, with super male bodies.” Homosexuals, both f and m, “One is the man, and one’s the female in the relationship” or “Lesbians really just wanna be men, Gays just wanna be women.” All bi’s being unfaithful, and abusive. Etc. I doubt I have to go on when it comes to races, ethnicities, etc.

To cut it down:

People ranting about stereotypical/fetishitic/objectifying/offensive portrayals of their demographic through dolls, don’t need to be told that people from their demographic also create these characters. They/We know.

These characters will still be created, but maybe it’s also important to understand that people of these demographics are gonna speak out, and distance themselves from these portrayals, because they can be genuinely harmful. Especially when people who’re anti-demographic, use it as fuel to push their anti-demographic agenda.

Also, just something I do, a cheap “trick” to this is honestly the “Nothing but the character” approach, Subjective-objective. View a few characters, without knowing the creator, and decide if the characters “acceptable” or “unacceptable” in your own personal view, and knowledge of what the character is supposed to represent. Because knowing who/what the creator is, can often skew your opinion in one way or the other. So you make your subjective opinion, if a character is actually a good, and thoughtful representation, or not. (The objective, in subjective-objective means that you get just the character, the object, without the author tagged onto it.) You’d be surprised about some results you can find when doing this with other people.

Sorry if I started rambling, but it seriously feels like I’ve seen these types of defenses a lot in the BJD community, and people acting as if people can’t have their own opinions, or views on things, or if they do, they get cancelled or called out. And if you show your genuine opinion, or find something uncomfortable, people are gonna find some way to try and make it sound like you’re the bad person, and in the wrong, for not liking something. Even if you didn’t attack anyone personally, just stated your opinion on something that happens in the community.

Also, I’m NOT a native english speaker. So some stuff might sound weird, or sound repetitive, weirdly jumbled, or lacking in proper structure. “But your English isn’t that bad!” That really doesn’t have much to do with how good I am at really explaining, or getting my point across. So if something sounds weird, that’s the reason. Because through my the lens of my languages-grammar it all seems fine.

~Anonymous

#BJD #ABJD #BJD Confessions #TrueBJDConfessions #BJD Characters

[normal-thoughts-official]

I’d do anything to have it (but you handed it for free)

Read it on ao3

It's all going well.

The charity auction has managed to get quite a lot of money. Only a few more hundred dollars, maybe, and they should have enough to keep the shelter running. Magnus is one of the last attractions - for some reason many people were interested in going on a date with him - so when he gets on stage, he's already grinning, feeling victorious.

And then he sees Camille, and he freezes.

OR: Alec and Magnus end up with an all-paid-for date. Oh no, am I right?

It’s all going pretty well, he thinks.

The charity auction has attracted quite some people, and most of the items they were selling had gotten pretty good bids. They didn’t have much (it was just a uni club event, after all, so most stuff had been donated) but they had managed to attract a lot of generous people who were willing to overpay for the cause. And the dates had managed to attract those who weren’t - a surprising number of people were interested in getting a chance to know some of the club members. The fact that Ragnor had agreed to let them eat for free in his restaurant (a small, but nice thing, good enough to be considered fancy for the university crowd) probably helped, too.

Magnus is one of the last attractions, so he’s not too nervous - they only need a few more hundred dollars, maybe, which they should be able to get by the time it’s over at this rate.

So all in all, it’s going well, and Magnus has a big smile on his face as he gets onstage.

And then he sees her, and he freezes.

She looks every bit like the last time they talked - long hair falling in slow, lazy waves, eyes piercing, and the ever-present sly, cold smile framed by red lipstick. He used to think red was the color of passion, but when it’s on her, all he can see is blood. It almost makes him dizzy, the quickness with which the déjà vu he feels washes over him.

By this point, all that seeing her elicited in him was a disappointed, tired sigh. He almost wished he would still feel something, like pain or hope or even just a spectre of the good things he one day felt for her. Even if they were lies. Even if they would hurt more when she inevitably… At least it would be a dragged-out hurt. Diluted. But this tiredness, this emptiness, it was worse. Seeing her felt like hollowing himself out. Like locking his whole essence in a box until he couldn’t feel a thing, not even the smell of the flowers in bloom, not even his own heartbeat.

“Camille,” he said.

“Magnus,” she answered, and he briefly wondered when her smile started looking so predatory. Maybe it always did. Maybe just having a smile directed at him at all was enough for him at the time.

It wasn’t anymore, though.

“I thought you were better than this,” he sighed, “it’s been who knows how many months-”

“Six months,” she said, checking her nails, looking bored. Then she smiled at him, almost flirtingly, “but who’s counting, am I right, dear?”

Six months since he’d last seen her. Over a year since the break-up. He really thought she had left him alone for good this time, but apparently she was just leaving him alone for bigger chunks of time before suddenly showing up in the coffee shop near his apartment. Magnus knew he shouldn’t be this surprised - he knows she knows where he lives. But it still sent a shiver down his spine, something that feels like being violated, like having a sanctuary broken into.

He sighed again, and at this point doing it felt almost like deja vu. “Right. Six months. I thought you’d have figured out that I meant it by now. It’s over, Camille.”

“Always loved the way you say my name,” she purred, “remember, dear? You’d call me saying, ‘Camille, Camille, I need you’.” Her imitation of his voice was ugly, high-pitched and pathetic. And felt more on-point than it should. “I would drop everything to see you then, remember? How I’d find you crying, sometimes even bloody, and you’d ask me to stay? Whatever happened to that?”

He swallowed. “I don’t need you anymore.”

“So what, you’re just gonna toss me like trash? Done using me, so you’ve moved on?” Her voice sounded too calm for such an accusation. He can still hear it in his mind. It sounds almost like a challenge. She said it like a defense attorney in a courtroom might, devoid of anything but boredom and vice.

Still, Magnus felt the pang of guilt tearing at his chest. And he takes it back, he doesn’t want to go back to feeling things when he sees her. It’s never good.

He got the small mercy of her not waiting for his reply, though. “So now you’re going around and finding someone else? That Lightwood boy?” her voice laced with disdain at his name, almost snicker, and Magnus froze. She smiled proudly at that. “What, you think I don’t know about your little crush? I know that’s why you left me, dear. That’s why I’m here, to see if you’re done with this little fantasy and can see what you really need. Me.”

“I didn’t leave you for anyone but myself,” he answered, somewhat firm.

Camille made a dismissive gesture with her hand like she didn’t even hear him. “He’s not interested in you, Magnus. I don’t want him to break your heart. I know how hard it is to pick up the pieces. You’re way too sensitive, dear.”

“Alec has nothing-”

“Surely you know that, don’t you? If I hadn’t known that you’d become all greedy and chase after him, I wouldn’t even have had a problem with your friendship. Does he even know about your little-” she gave him a quick once-over, “condition?”

She didn’t give him time to even process that. Of course, Alec knows he’s trans - they’ve met at uni’s LGBTQ club, just a little before Magnus started dating Camille. “Didn’t he just, like, finally come out outside of your little get-together? He’s gay, Magnus. You think that now that he’s finally free to,” she made a vague gesture with her hand, “I don’t know, suck some dick or something, he’s gonna settle for, what, some knockoff?”

Magnus felt choked. “You’ve never-”

“I’m different, Magnus. I can handle that. He won’t. I know he won’t, because I know how hard it is. Dating someone who’s- wrong in their body- it’s not for everyone. Besides, I’ve kissed some girls at parties before, when my boyfriends were into it. And I’m straight, so I’ve never had to fight for who I love. But he has, so why would he go through all that and end up settling for that?”

It was the sickening, almost disgusting emphasis on the ‘that’ that sends him snapping. “I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter, because this is not about Alec,” he said, firmly, “this is about me, and you. And it’s over, Camille. I’m not choosing him over you, I’m choosing me over you. Leave me alone.”

“Fine,” she almost growled, and he resisted the instinct to duck. “But when you call me crying because of him, don’t expect me to pick up.”

And that had been it. For- well, over a year now. Magnus is doing better. He has been doing therapy and unlearning all the shit she had put into his head after almost a year in a relationship. He is almost graduating, he is doing fulfilling work for charity, he is ready to become a biochemist and take over the world.

And yes, maybe he did still have a tiny crush on Alexander, even if he knows it isn’t reciprocated, but that is fine. Because the hardest lesson Camille had taught him is that relying on romantic love to be happy is a trap. He doesn’t need Alec to love him, because he could love himself, and live contently with the platonic love he got from his friends and his found family, and that was fine. He is free from her. His heart, his mind, his reflection, they are all free from her.

How cruel it is, then, that she showed up in a situation where he was absolutely helpless to do anything about it.

Well, that isn’t exactly true; he could tell the organisers of their history - it wasn’t just about him, after all, but the security of everyone involved, considering her, well, history with queer people. They would probably invalidate her bids and escort her out. Hell, if Catarina or Raphael saw her, they would probably do it before Magnus could even open his mouth.

But Magnus is already onstage. And seeing the way she smiles at him, he feels frozen on the spot, like his very instincts went into overdrive when confronted with her presence. And he can’t ruin this - the auction is to raise money for a local, self-run shelter for queer people who were kicked out of their homes. They need it to pay this month’s bills, and the uni LGBTQ Club had agreed to help.

And Magnus has attracted quite a few people - the stylish, funny, ridiculously unavailable (after the whole Camille ordeal, not to mention the Alexander Problem) biochemist who was already well-known in his field even before graduation. No surprise people wanted the chance to go on a date with him- or at least that’s what Ragnor had, somewhat grumpily (but secretly proud) told him. Magnus still thinks there must have been some mistake.

Besides, it’s not like she could hurt him, not from afar-

“A thousand dollars.”

He sees her lips move before he hears her speak, and after she speaks he hears nothing.

A thousand dollars.

That is- so ridiculously out of their range, even Magnus sees the cash dancing before his eyes before he sees his own demise.

He can’t ask them to withdraw that bid. It would help them keep the shelter running for a long while, not to mention be money to help in emergencies.

But that would mean-

How foolish he was, to think he would be free of her.

But how could Magnus face himself in the mirror, if he left those people in need after promising to help them? He was lucky- he had managed to leave his home in his own terms, and even if his father wasn’t, objectively, the best, he was never homeless. He couldn’t be so selfish.

Besides, what is one date with Camille? He would survive. He’d had plenty of them before. It would probably be bad, but Magnus can handle it. He’s doing better. He knows he won’t go back to her, not after all this time. Maybe a small anxiety relapse, but he will get over it quickly. It will be worth it. More than worth it. He knows he’s strong. He can do this.

But he couldn’t help the sense of despair and dread that hits him like a punch, and selfishly wish that he could just turn his back and leave, as he heard Maia say, “going once, going twice-”

“NO!” he heard a scream from backstage, and opened his eyes - when had he closed them? - just in time to see Alexander, still looking ridiculously hot in the black suit he wore for his auction, running into view. “No, twice that, I’ll- twice what she just said!” he screams, a little out of breath.

Maia raises her eyebrows. “Are you saying that you bid two thousand dollars?”

He knows Alec is rich - he’s a Lightwood, after all - but he can’t ask that much of him. He’s about to tell Alexander that it’s fine, but his response is so automatic Magnus doesn’t even manage to take in a breath. “Yes! Yes, two thousand dollars for Magnus.”

“Can he even do that?” Magnus hears Camille say, although weakly. She knows he can. This is a charity auction, not some over-the-top antique selling. They’re in a local movie theatre that allowed them to use some old, out-of-use room, for fuck’s sake. No one’s even supposed to put in that much money, which is exactly why Camille had done it, of course. She believed it would go unchallenged, and she was mostly right. She just forgot to take into account Alexander’s hero-ing tendencies. And his stubbornness, of course.

Magnus is almost bracing himself for some ridiculous bid battle, but he can already see Raphael and Catarina grabbing Camille’s arm. Raphael’s hissing something quietly at Camille that he can only assume is not nearly as scary as Catarina’s ice-cold stare.

“Sold to Mr. Lightwood for two thousand dollars,” Maia says, and that settles that.

*

It doesn’t end it, of course. For the rest of the night, Catarina and Raphael had been alternating with following Magnus wherever he went, in a move he was sure they thought was subtle. He didn’t say anything, though, because he was nothing but grateful for it, from the second he turned around after getting off-stage and Alexander had silently sat him down and offered him some water. And even more so after that, when a distinctly post-threatening Catarina and Raphael had showed up with determined looks on their faces. Raphael had left with Alec to take care of the rest of the event for Magnus, and Catarina had simply sat down besides Magnus, and wordlessly put his head on her shoulder.

Magnus didn’t cry, but he felt himself tremble slightly under the strong, yet careful strokes on his hair. Catarina knew exactly how he liked to be comforted, and her grounding touch allowed him to process what had just happened without losing himself, or feeling like he should hide from view.

It felt nice, to be safe.

Raphael had stuck with trying to cover for Magnus, which he was thankful for - Raphael knew Magnus would stress over it, so he just wordlessly covered for him to make sure Magnus would have time to recover. Whenever Raphael passed by him, he would wordlessly nod and tell him that everything was going smoothly. Magnus knew that was his way of trying to take care of him. He would sometimes bring Magnus water, too, and ask him how he was doing, and when Magnus answered “good,” he’d say “that’s all I want,” and tap his shoulder before taking his cup back with him.

Raphael thought he wasn’t good with expressing affection, but really, seeing how much he cared for Magnus was the easiest thing in the world.

Eventually, Raphael had tapped him on the shoulder, easing him back into reality, to tell him that they had managed to wrap everything up. Catarina took Magnus’ hand and led him back to where Raphael and Alec were waiting for him.

After a few more hugs and worried glances, it goes a little like this:

Magnus is reassuring the three of them, plus Maia and Isabelle, that he’s fine. He is; he didn’t have a panic attack, or a crying fit, or anything of the sort. He just felt tired. They’re all still insisting on staying with him, though, so he says that he doesn’t want to be with a lot of people right now. That makes them all nod understandably - even if Cat is still narrowing her eyes - but Alec insists on taking him to his loft. He doesn’t live in the dorms, so it’s a little further away, and they don’t want to leave him alone.

Magnus agrees, if anything because Alexander’s company doesn’t sound half bad right now. He just doesn’t want the- crowding.

So they all leave, and Magnus and Alec are left alone, and Magnus finally gets the chance to thank him, and insists that he’s going to pay Alexander back somehow - he knows Alec only did it for his sake, because he knows about his and Camille’s history, has been there to help Magnus through anxiety attacks more times than he cares to remember, and he’s thankful for that, and for his generosity in saving him from this date, he really is, but he can’t let him do this for him, no matter how many times Alexander insists that it was his idea and that this was not a loan and there’s no need to pay him back, and it feels almost comfortable again, to be exchanging jabs with Alexander as they walk down the block, and he’s thinking something about unstoppable force versus immovable object as the argument keeps going and he’s almost having fun somehow and they turn in a corner and Camille is there.

She’s all nonchalance, dress and high heels and scornful smirk. She’s leaning against the wall with her arms crossed casually before her chest, and jesus, had she been waiting for them?

He only tenses a fraction of a second before Alec does, and suddenly he steps between Magnus and her, position hostile like he’s shielding him. Magnus even affords to spend one (1) second thinking about how tall he is and how nice he looks, before he hears Camille chuckle.

“Oh, relax, Lightwood, I won’t steal your little boytoy. You bought him fair and square, after all,” she says.

“Leave,” Alec answers, and the way he completely ignores Camille’s jabs almost has Magnus swooning. It’s just so Alec, he thinks, to step all over the drama and the mind games like this. Alec is almost blunt in his honesty, and it’s one of the many things that makes Magnus feel so safe around him.

“You’re so boring,” Camille says, instantly taking Magnus out of his daydream. “I just wanted to congratulate little Magnus, here, for finally getting what he wanted. Or, the closest he will get, at least.” When Magnus tenses, she smiles sweetly at him, in a way that tells him this reaction is exactly what she wanted, “I’m talking about the auction money, of course.”

“Great. Now leave,” Alec repeats.

“I second that,” Magnus says, and feels even prouder of himself for speaking up when Alec spares a second to look back at him and flash him a proud, reassuring smile.

“Oh, whatever.” She rolls her eyes, “As you wish. Congratulations again, dear,” she says to Magnus, smiling pleasantly, before turning on her heels. Magnus doesn’t even dare believe that it’s over, doesn’t dare take a breath, not even when he sees Alec start to relax as he crosses his arms and mutters under his breath, cunt.

Camille turns so quickly Magnus almost wonders if she has some kind of superhearing. But she just smiles again, looks straight at Magnus - corners of her lips twitching and turning her smile into something else, something that looks like a snake lunging at an unsuspecting rat - and says, “funny you would say that.”

He feels his stomach sink. Not this. Not now. Please-

Alec just looks at her, confused for a second, and Magnus would bless his dumb little heart for not getting her jab if it didn’t give Camille an excuse to keep talking. Sighing like she’s explaining something to a toddler, she explains, “well, I’m not the only cunt here, am I, Magnus, dear?”

He can see Alec’s face morph into something he can’t quite describe, but knows means that Alec understands now. “I am going to punch you,” he says, unbearably calm, like he’s the eye of a hurricane. Then he takes one step towards her.

Magnus grabs him by the elbow, partially because he doesn’t want a fight and partially because he doesn’t want Alec to leave his side. When Alexander turns to look at him, Camille smiles victoriously, turns on her heels again, and leaves.

*

“I’m sorry,” Alec says, “Magnus, I’m really sorry.”

Magnus is quick to dismiss him, a simple wave of his hand all that accompanies his words. “It’s not your fault, Alexander. Besides, you were nothing if not a gentleman tonight. Thank you,” he says, and smiles.

From the first time Alec met Magnus, he had seen enough of his smiles to categorise them all. They were all beautiful, and they were all special in their own way. There was his content, blissed-out smile from when he took his first sip of orange juice in the morning - the one he had seen a few times when he slept over at his place. There was his brilliant, contagious smile when he figured out a solution to a problem Alec could barely understand - he’s studying medicine, but even then, it’s not like he knows about biochemistry beyond the basics, and Magnus’ interests are niche to say the least. There was his lazy, satisfied smile in the very rare moments when he allowed himself to let his guard down, something that looked so private and raw. There was his self-satisfied smile when he made a particularly bad pun, and his delighted smile when Alec couldn’t help but laugh at it. There was his challenging smile when their little games of Uno would get particularly nasty during a sleepover, and his hidden smile when he was teasing Alec and trying to look serious. There was his sleepy smile when he would swear he was not in any way about to fall asleep, right before he would inevitably fall asleep. There are so many of Magnus’ smiles, and he is proud to be able to catalogue and interpret them all.

This one is the only one he doesn’t like.

It’s his tight, everything-is-fine smile, the one that he uses to try and hide when he convinces himself his own problems are too much of a nuisance for others. The one that barely computes beyond the almost fearful, teary look in his eyes. Magnus has the most beautiful and expressive eyes Alec has ever seen, and that makes it impossible for Magnus to lie to Alec, with the way Alec always, always wants to look at them.

He knows better than to argue with him, though. Instead, he just pulls Magnus into a hug, and tries not to think something like “he smells like sandalwood”, because for fuck’s sake, Alec already knows that.

Magnus looks taken aback for a second, like he always does when Alec touches him. It almost makes him feel unsure, the way Magnus’ whole body freezes like a deer caught in headlights when Alec shows him affection, but it always goes like this: right when Alec is about to ask if he wants to be alone, Magnus melts in his arms like jelly, like he can barely stand on his feet. And Alec knows, then, that it’s not about him, or- any of that, it’s about Magnus still being surprised when people care for him, no matter how many years pass and how many people wholly dedicated to him he has.

It cracks the edges of Alec’s heart, but he holds it together through holding Magnus together, embrace tight and hands running soothingly over his back. He can feel Magnus tremble slightly, like he’s stuffed full of emotion and doesn’t know how to let it out.

“I should have punched her,” Alec says, almost musingly.

Magnus shakes his head. “I wouldn’t want that.”

Alec sighs, “you know she deserves it, right? You don’t need to protect her. You owe her nothing.”

Magnus shakes his head again, and Alec’s protest is already on his lips. They’ve had this discussion a million times; helping someone in a time of fragility only to use that against them later is not helping, it’s manipulating. But right when he’s about to say it, Magnus says, voice slightly muffled against his chest, “This is much better than any punching.”

Alec pointedly ignores the way his heart leaps. Hugging Magnus is always a double-edged sword. It feels too nice. “Can’t argue with that,” he says, voice soft like a blanket, and hopes Magnus doesn’t realize how much he means it.

Magnus pulls away right when he thinks it, and Alec freezes for a second, but then he realizes that goddamned smile is still there. Magnus clasps Alec’s arms once. “Thank you,” he says, like someone closing a business meeting.

Alec won’t have that. “You wanna talk about it?”

Magnus sighs. “I just… Hate it.” He feels silly for only being able to say that, but he feels emptied. Not of feelings, because they sure are there, swirling inside of him like seasickness; but of words, not only for Alec’s sake, but for his own.

It’s like he’s disconnected from himself, from his own perception. He has the feelings, but not the tools to really make them his. He feels stolen from himself, and that might be the worst part of the whole thing.

Magnus thanks the gods for the way Alec seems to understand that so easily, not getting frustrated at his stupid words, but rather gently nudging him into talking. He pulls Magnus gently to the couch, sitting him down. “I get that,” he says, calmly, kneeling down in front of him.

His eyes are intense and focused on him, and looking at them feels like watching a storm out of the window. Safe and almost disconnected, but not enough to be blind to its beauty.

“I guess I just… Thought I was free of her,” he says, biting his lip. “I haven’t seen her in over a year. And then she shows up all of a sudden...” He looks away. He knows there’s no judgement in Alexander’s eyes, from experience and rationality as well as emotion. But facing the intensity of his eyes feels a bit too much like facing the intensity inside of Magnus, and he needs to be eased into that. Alexander doesn’t comment or try to force him to look, just waits for him to continue, and he’s grateful for that, too. “And I know she only did it to hurt me, and…. Why? What did I do to her? I don’t get it.”

“You didn’t do anything, Magnus. It’s not your fault.”

“I know it isn’t! I do! I just don’t get it,” he cries, frustrated. “Why does she want to hurt me so much? Why does it work?”

He stops for a second, a little embarrassed by his outburst, a little in need of more air.

“It’s taken me so long to- to get over her. To become more than what she did to me. Don’t,” he says, raising his hand to stop Alec’s half-formed protest, “I know that it’s not like that, but it felt like it. It felt like she had changed me forever. Taken me forever.”

He tries not to let his eyes glass over, not to get too deep into the way she made him feel. He doesn’t want to be there again.

“I know I’m mine again.” He pauses. He feels frustrated that his speech only seems to come in these disconnected, short phrases. Usually he’s so good with words; they flow smoothly out of him, and he can easily play with them, make jokes, use them as he wants. Feeling like a child struggling to learn prose only makes his smallness more latent. “I’m not what I was before her, and I won’t be, but I’m something else, something that belongs to me. That exists in spite of her, not because of her.”

He stops, and Alexander smiles proudly. It only lasts for a second.

“But then she shows up,” Magnus continues, and sags so quickly it’s almost deflation. He’s half surprised he doesn’t fly away without direction like a balloon being emptied. “And suddenly I’m so small. I look at her, and I see a version of me that’s just so- weak.”

Alexander reaches out to wipe away his tears. He didn’t know he was crying, but now he can feel the weight on the bottom of his eyes, where they accumulate like they’ve reached a dam. He’s thankful that he only ever uses waterproof makeup.

But Magnus just continues talking, suddenly feeling like he can’t stop anymore. “It’s like regressing completely. I feel so powerless. I shouldn’t be this powerless. Why can’t I just- shake her off?”

“Magnus,” Alexander says, cupping his face gently, slowly. Giving him time to shy away from the touch. Instead, Magnus melts into it. It feels good, grounding, and he needs it. Alexander doesn’t move Magnus’ face in the slightest, but suddenly he’s looking into his eyes again, so Magnus must have. They still look like a storm, and still feel like a shelter. “You’re not weak for being upset. Hell, I’m upset, and I’m not the one who went through all that.” He pauses and breathes, like he’s calming himself down.

It feels almost too easy for Magnus to launch into worrying about him, so he takes a deep breath too. Alexander’s fine. Magnus doesn’t need to feel guilty. It’s okay.

“She designed the whole thing to upset you, to blindside you. How is it your shortcoming that it worked? And even then, you stood up for yourself,” Alexander reminds him. “You told her to go away. You say you feel powerless, but even then, you didn’t cower. You had the strength to stand up to her.”

“I barely did anything,” he protests.

“You did enough. She left. And you’re okay. You didn’t go back to her, or, or feel guilty somehow, you’re just upset that she’s such a monster. That only makes you human, if you ask me.”

Magnus laughs, despite himself. It feels watery and convoluted, like it’s tripping over itself, but it’s still laughter, and it’s genuine. “I suppose,” he says, and even if it’s quiet, his voice feels less small.

“You told her to go away. You stood your ground. You didn’t let her walk all over you. Even if you didn’t, that still wouldn’t make you weak. They’re called defense mechanisms because they work. But you should give yourself more credit for being able to face her, and not fall back. It only proves that she didn’t get what she wanted. You’re still yours. She lost.”

“I suppose,” he repeats, but it’s not mechanical. Tired, maybe, but not in that hollowed-out way he sometimes gets; it’s the kind of tiredness that proves he’s real. “But it still feels so- frustrating.”

“Well,” Alexander says, daring to flash him a small smile. It’s not pitying, exactly, more like tentative, “there’s only so much logic can do, after all. It’s still horrible that she went so far just to hurt you. It’s ok to be upset. We all are upset on your behalf.”

Magnus huffs out half of a laugh. “Thanks. I guess I just… Need to feel it out.”

“We can do that,” Alec quickly says. “What do you wanna do? Talk some more, or just cry, or-”

Magnus manages a full laugh this time. Alexander’s so goal-oriented sometimes, like he’s only expecting Magnus to give him his instructions and then everything will be okay. It’s endearing, how eager to help he is, even when there’s nothing anyone can really do. “No, it’s okay. Can I just- lie down on your lap for a while? And then we go from there.”

Alec smiles at him, and he’s suddenly struck with the realization that he just told Alec what he wanted, simple as that. He smiles back. Alec’s right. He’s not back to what he was.

“Okay,” Alec says, sitting down by his side on the couch and tapping on his thighs invitingly. Magnus laughs again, and lies down without further ado.

*

Magnus didn’t talk much, or really cry, in the end. A few tears rolled down, but it felt more like letting go than being washed over, natural. Alexander kept stroking his hair, just as silent, and just as comfortable.

Magnus loves it when Alec pets his hair, the way his fingers thread so carefully in his hair, soft and tentative. Just a brush of his fingertips at first, then, as they both seem to get eased into it, the palm of his hand as well. His movements are short and slow, but somehow intense and strong - which is so Alexander, he thinks. Short and to the point, and somehow manages to express all that it needs.

It also makes him feel grounded, focused on his touch like there’s nothing else. He lets the tension out one sigh at a time, and every time he looks up, Alec’s smiling at him, like he can see all that fills the air in their silence. It makes Magnus feel a little stupid, and like he really, really needs to kiss Alec’s cheek. But he’s very practiced in self control, and he’s not about to ruin what they have.

He does allow himself to lightly caress Alec’s stomach, though. It’s just a little reassuring touch. He’s only returning the affection Alec’s showing him. It’s fine.

He looks up, and Alec’s still smiling at him. He smiles back. It feels comfortable, and he relaxes. He didn’t disrupt the moment. Alexander’s fine with this - he usually is, but then again, Magnus is not sure whether or not Alec knows about his inconvenient feelings for him, and he doesn’t want to push it too far. The moment feels so perfect, the kind of thing that goes well with soft music and a slow, almost lazy fade-out in movies. He can already feel it registering as a memory, of comfort, of happiness, of Alexander’s little grin, so private and beautiful.

His phone buzzes.

He moves his hand from Alec’s belly to retrieve it from his pocket, and just like that, the moment’s gone.

It’s a text from Raphael. I know I already asked you this, but are you okay? it says. Magnus can’t bring himself to be annoyed, not with the almost boyish way he struggles to express his worry.

Yeah, he quickly types, I’m okay.

It’s not a lie.

*

Eventually, he feels good enough to get up, and at this point it’s a little too late for Alec to go back to the dorm. And, if Magnus is being honest, he doesn’t want him to.

‘I’m gonna get your mattress,” Magnus says, “then I’ll make something to eat. Thank you for staying,” he adds, almost an afterthought.

“I can make us something,” Alec says, and Magnus grimaces.

“I’d rather not eat something completely terrible after the day I’ve had,” he answers.

“Hey!” Alec answers in outrage, “It’s not always terrible. I can cook something simple, it’ll turn out fine,” he crosses his arms over his chest. Magnus would feel a little bad for making him so defensive if he didn’t still have vivid memories of the time Alec tried to make them gnocchi.

How was I supposed to know you can’t use whole wheat flour, he had said. By looking it up, Magnus answered. Who the fuck wanted to use whole wheat flour, anyway? They already were college students, hadn’t they suffered enough?

“Come on, you have spaghetti in here, don’t you? I’ll just make us some real quick while you set up the room. Put some tomato sauce, nothing elaborate. Cross my heart,” Alec insists. Magnus pretends to think it over for a moment just so he doesn’t get any ideas.

“Okay,” he says, “but I’ll be the one to season it. I’m not about to eat some bland salt-and-pepper only shit. I grow my own ingredients at home for a reason.”

“Fine,” Alec says as he opens the cupboard to get the pans, and Magnus doesn’t miss his smile.

*

The pasta turns out okay, even if it’s a little past al dente. Magnus’ a pretty okay cook, too - it’s pure biochemistry, after all, no matter how much everyone rolls their eyes or how much Raphael starts mumbling that cocinar es un acto de pasión when he says it. Besides, he likes trying out new combinations, mixing up the ingredients and the seasons to make new flavours and textures; he feels like a wizard making a potion. The difference between him and Alexander is that he doesn’t decide to experiment for the first time when he’s cooking for other people.

They eat in silence, and it doesn’t feel uncomfortable, although admittedly he’s a little lost in his own thoughts. Alexander even manages to run to the sink and wash the dishes before Magnus remembers to do it himself, which shows that he’s really off his game tonight. Still, he’s tired, so he limits himself to tsking in Alec’s general direction and letting him finish up.

It’s worth it, too, for the way Alexander smiles at him as he cleans, towel draped over his shoulders. And if Magnus’ heart feels like it’s beating more softly than usual, almost carefully, then that’s for him to sort out. And if he smiles back and looks at him for a little too long, he can probably pass it off as tiredness. Alexander doesn’t seem to mind it, either, because he just looks back at him, until Magnus reluctantly looks away and heads to the bedroom to change into his pajamas.

It’s both good and bad that they’re comfortable enough for Magnus to stare at him without it being too weird. On one hand, he doesn’t want to ruin his friendship with Alec - on the other, he probably will if he keeps this going.

Alec kind of proves his point by showing up looking almost sheepish just a few minutes afterwards, so Magnus heads to the bathroom and locks the door to take his makeup and hair gel off while Alec changes. When he comes back, Alec’s already lying down on the mattress Magnus put on the floor - he does have another bed frame, but the only mattress big enough to fit Alexander’s offensively long legs doesn’t fit in it, so the floor it is.

He climbs into bed and turns off the lights.

The air is thick with stillness for a second, and Magnus almost thinks they’ve been encapsulated in time. It’s almost unbearable, but in a way that settles within him and makes him feel powerless to break it.

“So,” Alec says, “looks like we have a date.”

He’s always admired the way Alexander cuts through these barriers, the ones that feel so oppressive to Magnus, like he hadn’t even noticed they were there.

Maybe he really hadn’t. Maybe they only exist for Magnus.

“It appears that way, yes,” he answers, playing with his earlobe, and Alexander chuckles.

“So, you wanna go? I mean, we won’t be getting any chances to eat at such a fancy restaurant again anytime soon. Might as well enjoy it, right?”

Magnus turns on his side to look down at Alec. Their eyes meet so fast Magnus is taken aback for a second, realizing that Alec’s gaze hadn’t flickered when he turned. But when he looks back, Alec is looking at the ceiling, and he can feel the awkwardness settle in his bones. Flinching when he sees Alexander’s eyes like he can’t even handle that. No wonder Alec felt uncomfortable. “I mean, you will,” he says.

Alec turns to look at him, frowning. “What?”

“Your other date,” Magnus clarifies. He almost laughs at the way Alec’s frown only deepens. He’d throw a pillow at him, but he doesn’t want to move that much, “You were auctioned too, remember? Admittedly, I wasn’t paying attention, but even if he doesn’t meet your ever-growing standards, you’ll still get free food.”

Alexander has never been on a single date in all of the time Magnus has known him. Magnus had asked him, once, whether he had ever considered that he might be just asexual or aromantic, but Alec had looked so confused by the suggestion Magnus kind of felt like an idiot. Uh, no he had said, flabbergasted, I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with that, I’m just. Very sure that I feel, hm, attraction. For men. So.... And that had been that.

Alec just laughs. “Izzy won it, then promptly ditched me and decided to take Meliorn instead,” he huffs at their name, shaking his head.

“Oh, stop pretending you hate Meliorn, they’re nice,” Magnus chides.

“I’m not saying I hate them, I’m just saying she should choose her big brother once in a while. She has three partners! Three! I can’t compete with that. My family is falling apart,” he says dramatically.

Magnus rolls his eyes, “you love Clary and Maia.”

Alec huffs. “Maia, maybe. Clary? Not so sure.”

“Cut the crap, Alexander, I know you were the one who gave Clary Isabelle’s number.”

“I will neither confirm nor deny.”

Magnus laughs, and when he turns to look at Alec again, his smile is just as bright. “Fine, maybe I think Clary is good for her.” Magnus is about to nod, but then he adds, “too good! Now she’s gotten confident and is building a whole harem and doesn’t care about me anymore! Soon I’m going to graduate, and without seeing each other constantly at uni, she will forget who I am!”

“You have lunch together every Saturday,” Magnus points out. Alexander and Isabelle were attached by the hip. If the dorms weren’t gender-separated, they would probably still be living together, and Magnus was pretty sure they actually would once she graduated. They acted like those weird, stereotyped twins you see on TV sometimes.

“And yet, when she has the chance to take her big brother to a nice dinner in a fancy restaurant, she immediately ditches him.”

“You wouldn’t want to go on a date with your sister,” Magnus points out.

“No, but I would want to fight over who can eat more breadsticks and pretend I’m surprised when it turns out it’s her.”

Magnus can’t help but laugh. “Well, I suppose we can do that, then,” he says, “I’ll even let you win, as thanks for saving me tonight.”

“No you won’t,” Alexander answers, sunnily, and every bit like he wouldn’t have it any other way, “but I will win anyway, of my own merit.”

Magnus grimaces, and does throw the pillow at him this time. It’s worth the moving for the way Alexander laughs, delighted, in that way that makes Magnus feel like he just earned a prize. Alec could be very closed off when he wanted to - Magnus could still remember the day he had first joined the Club, eyes bouncing around the room like he expected the cops to burst in at any minute - and Magnus treasures the fact that he could get Alexander to be silly and carefree like the joy that it is.

Once he calms down, he turns to look at Magnus again. His eyes are so hazel and so soft. “So, we’re gonna go?”

Magnus reminds himself that Alec is not asking him out. “Of course. Why waste the opportunity?” he says, very casually, like he isn’t about to go into Pining Overdrive, and Alexander smiles at him. “Now give me back my pillow,” he says.

“Don’t think so,” Alexander answers, but does return it when Magnus starts swatting in his direction.

*

It doesn’t take long for Magnus to fall asleep after that - it never does, really. He’s an early-sleeper, early-riser kind of guy, and tonight has been emotionally loaded to say the least.

Alec is not an early-sleeper, early-riser kind of guy. More like the “overthinking everything you’ve ever done at night” kind of guy.

Don’t get him wrong, he can be up early when he needs to, but he’s never quite gotten the whole “sleeping early” part down. And, even though the night was also emotionally loaded for him - with all the hard work setting up the auction, then the despair after seeing Camille, the anger, the heartbreak of seeing the way she still affected Magnus - this usually meant that he would be less likely to sleep, not more

He rolls over on the mattress for what feels like the hundredth time. Did Magnus find it weird that he was staring at him? He really didn’t mean to. He had just turned to ask Magnus something and then- forgot. Magnus’ eyes had looked so lively then, a true contrast with the tiredness clearly written all over his face - which Alec was glad he didn’t try to hide for once. They were just so brown, and shiny, and beautiful, and crinkled at the corners just so, and he felt drawn in. He always did.

But the last thing he wanted was to make Magnus uncomfortable, especially in a day like this. He knew Magnus wasn’t interested in him - Magnus hadn’t been interested in anyone after Camille, and he had mentioned to Alec more than once that he felt like he needed a break from relationships, particularly in the first few months post-breakup. And he had made his peace with that. Even if it didn’t stop the way he felt, because - well, what could? Magnus was amazing and fun, and felt like freedom and smelled like sandalwood, called him Alexander and every time they talked Alec felt happy.

That’s what it narrowed down to, really. Magnus made him happy.

So he wasn’t about to ask him for more, not when being with him already felt like taking flight, and he definitely wasn’t going to put Magnus in another difficult position if he could prevent it.

Now, if only he could do something about his own difficult position.

His arms feel too big and empty, and his pillow smells like sandalwood. Magnus’ soft silky sheets feel too light, and he wants a kind of weight on his chest that doesn’t feel at all like the one he currently has.

He wants to be able, to be allowed, to be wanted to draw Magnus closer, drape his arms around his waist and appreciate the fact that they’re the perfect height for his chin to rest over Magnus’ head. He wants to be lulled to sleep by his scent. He wants to kiss the back of his neck and hear Magnus giggle in his arms, soft and happy and glad to be there with him. He wants to stroke his hair and hear the way he sighs and see the way he melts. He wants Magnus to give him a kiss after teasing him for his snores. He wants to pepper kisses all over his face for no damn reason, and hug him, breathless, when he smiles. He wants to say “I love you”. It feels so ready, so right, on the tip of his tongue. I love you. Lighter than a feather, natural as air in the way it’s so unmistakably real. It’s the truth the world is built on, like water, like earth. So simple it can’t be anything but grand.

And it’s locked up inside of him.

He lies down and thinks it, but he can’t say it. It might be worse than the rejection itself - the way this feeling feels caged inside of him, thrashing and screaming and somehow still resigned to its trap.

He looks up and Magnus is facing him, face almost falling off the bed, looking peaceful and safe and calm. It’s too close for comfort.

Too far for comfort.

Alec rolls over again and tries to ignore the ghost of sandalwood in his nose.

*

When Magnus gets up for Fajr the next day, Alexander is still fast asleep, his little snores deep and slow enough to almost lull Magnus back to sleep. One of his hands is wrapped around his own belly and the other is outstretched in the direction of Magnus’ bed, falling from the mattress into the floor. Magnus almost snaps a picture and makes a meme of him instead of God in that one Michelangelo painting, but thinks better of it. He doesn’t want Alec to think he’s some creep watching him sleep, or something. Besides, he looks too adorable for Magnus to risk waking him up.

So he opts to get up, offer his prayers, and make them breakfast instead.

*

Alec wakes up to the sound of his own stomach grumbling, and a musical laughter that follows immediately after.

When he opens his eyes, Magnus is in front of him, holding a tray with breakfast. Alec’s usually pretty grumpy in the morning, but he can’t have a foul mood when Magnus is smiling at him like that. Especially if there’s food involved.

“Orange juice, strawberries, and toast. Burnt to a crisp, since, if I do recall correctly, that is how you like it,” Magnus says, sunnily.

He takes it back. He absolutely can be in a foul mood. He groans, “will you let it go? That was, like, a year ago.”

“Not until you admit that you fucked up the toast,” Magnus sing-songs, his tone not changing in the slightest.

“I wanted it burnt that day,” Alec counters, “I just never wanted it burnt any other day. It’s a specific mood that strikes me very rarely.”

“Well, in that case, best be prepared, don’t you agree?” Magnus answers, even as he slides the second toast that was on his own tray to Alec’s plate. That one is perfectly brown, just a hint of butter spread evenly, exactly how Alec likes it.

Alec doesn’t comment on it. This has been a part of their morning routine for a while now.

Well, not that he sleeps over at Magnus’ every day or something - it’s just that when he does, Magnus does that. Maybe part of the reason he doesn’t admit he burnt the toast without meaning to - Magnus’ toaster is very complicated, okay, it wasn’t his fault - is because he likes that little inside joke of theirs, the easy rhythm of their little routine. It’s simple and easy and expected, and Magnus always laughs when Alec makes his excuses.

Magnus sits besides him on the mattress, and they eat.

He breaks the burnt toast in little pieces and leaves it to a very happy Chairman Meow as they leave for class.

*

The fact that Magnus’ apartment is so close to campus means they can afford to have a slow morning, and is one of the few things Magnus has to be grateful to his father for. He has no idea what he would do if he had to live in the dorms - the idea of being in the girls’ dorms was humiliating, and of being in the boy’s dorms, terrifying. At this point, Magnus can pay rent for himself - he leads his own team in pharmaceutical research for quite a big company - which is good, because it means Asmodeus can’t use that to demand Magnus’ presence in his painfully boring board meetings. But still, if Asmodeus hadn’t helped with rent, he might have had to give up his scholarship, and would have never gotten to this point: walking calmly with Alexander through the halls of his building, with enough time to spare that Alec could walk him to class and go to his own in another building without a problem. Alexander was adorably slow in the morning, which meant he walked through the halls rather than marched through them, and listened to Magnus speak with a dumb little smile in his face that Magnus shouldn’t love as much as he did.

It was funny that he seemed to smile so much in the morning when he hated it so much. Maybe it was just that he wasn’t functioning enough to keep his sour facade.

The first thing they see when they get to Magnus’ classroom is Izzy - who, unlike Alec, is as energetic in the mornings as always. As a (future) forensic pathologist, she has a lot of classes with both Magnus and Alec, even if she’s a year behind them - she’s just that smart, plus she has a pretty convoluted schedule that Magnus will never understand how she manages to balance with the rest of her life.

“Big brother. Magnus,” she says, a delighted little emphasis when she gets to his name, almost like a tease, as she goes over and hugs Alexander. His smile turns even softer then. There’s definitely something about the mornings, Magnus thinks. “How are you?” she asks when it’s Magnus’ turn to be hugged, looking up at him with these worried, shiny eyes of hers.

“I’m fine, dear,” Magnus answers easily, “the crisis was averted, no need to dwell on it.”

Alec huffs, grimacing, “Her very existence is a crisis.”

Izzy elbows him lightly, and Alec looks at her like she just stabbed him. “You’re still allowed to be upset. The fact that she even tried that at all is sickening.”

“I suppose,” Magnus muses, “but it’s not surprising. She hates being left behind. I think she needs to prove to herself that she still has the upper hand.”

“By stalking her ex years after the breakup like a weirdo?” Alec asks.

Magnus is kind of pitying Izzy’s elbow, “by showing that she still has power over me. When just her mere presence paralyzes me, she knows she still holds the power, and that’s what she needs. To feel in control.”

“You still won, though,” Alec says, and both Magnus and Izzy look at him, surprised. “By being okay, by asking her to leave. You’re proving that your inner strength outdoes her destructive force. You,” he says, putting a single finger in Magnus’ chest for emphasis, “are winning, and that’s why she’s so desperately terrified.”

Magnus is speechless for a second. He can feel the air stuck between his lips, a soft puff of surprise. Then he smiles, looking up at him. “Thank you,” he says, and even though his voice is small, he feels whole.

Alec smiles back, and for a few seconds it’s just Magnus, the never-ending hazel, and the corners of Alec’s lips. Then Alec coughs and says, “right. I should probably get to my own class,” because other people are already starting to get into the classroom.

Magnus blinks, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think Alexander’s morning slowness was getting to him.

“Right. Have a good one, Alexander.”

“Bye, big bro,” Izzy says, eyes glinting with mischief.

Alec waves at them, and leaves.

*

Heard you ditched your own brother for Meliorn, Magnus texts her instead of paying attention to class.

Well, I wouldn’t want to steal him from you, she shoots back almost immediately, which speaks volumes on just how boring Mrs. Herondale’s class is. Magnus and Izzy are not exactly model students, but you can’t keep the kind of grades they do if you don’t know, at the very least, how to keep a good slacking-paying attention balance. But they both already know all of what she’s saying, so there’s that.

Very funny, he answers playfully. He’s never really told Izzy about his crush on Alexander - that would be awkward - but she figured it out anyway, which isn’t exactly surprising.

He couldn’t complain, though. She never told Alec anything and kept her teasing strictly for when Alec wasn’t there. She is a good friend. Although I am curious to know why Meliorn. I’d think fancy dinner dates are more of Clary’s thing, he continues.

Yes, well, Clary and Maia have this cooking class they’re taking together every Saturday, and I’m not allowed, she says, and Magnus tries his best not to laugh. It is a smart move. so it’s only fair that I get to take my other partner instead. Kicked out of my own triad’s date night. Unbelievable.

I am weeping at the tragedy that is your love life, he answers, and hears her snort beside him.

I’m just saying that the least I deserve is to have my own date night with my beautiful, beautiful, beautiful partner. They just got a sidecut and let me tell you, she sends him a bunch of chef’s kiss, clapping, and 100 emojis. Magnus can’t argue with that. If he were into the whole open relationship thing, he’d definitely want to date Meliorn as well. and it’s gonna be fun! We’re both gonna try the foods with the most unpronounceable names and drink our own weight in wine. AND you and Alec can have your own dinner night. We made our reservations for Saturday night, so you make yours for another night and you can romance in peace. This one is followed by a single winking emoji, and Magnus grimaces.

Oh yes, Alexander and I plan on romancing very hard. We’ve made bets over who can eat the most breadsticks.

Izzy sends him the eye-rolling emoji. Then, right afterwards, I suppose it’s important to know how much your partner can fit in their mouth.

“Ew,” Magnus says out loud.

“You have a problem with intracellular digestion, Mr. Bane?” Mrs. Herondale asks him, raising an eyebrow.

“Not at all, ma’am,” he answers easily. Not other than the fact that he’s known this since first year. Of high school.

“Good,” she answers, and goes back to writing on the board.

When he looks down again, there’s another message already waiting for him. Don’t go all prude on me, it says.

I’m not. I just think it’s disgusting that you made a joke about your own brother getting a blowjob.

I didn’t make a joke about my brother, I made a joke about your crush. Very different

This may have escaped your attention, but my crush and your brother are, in fact, the same person.

I have no idea what you’re talking about. My brother is called ‘Alec’. Your crush is named ‘Alexander’. Completely different people.

You’re very good at compartmentalising, he notes.

Thank you, she answers.

He turns to his notebook right in time for his phone to light up again.

Besides, Alec does deserve a good blowjob, too. Only the best for my big bro.

Ew, he writes.

*

Contrary to Magnus’ previous theories, Mrs. Herondale’s class does end eventually, and when he and Izzy head out, Alexander is already there waiting for them.

He always comes to wait for Izzy after this class, since the two of them have the next one together. Magnus doesn’t get why he needs to come all the way to the biochem institute when they are going to head back to the medicine building anyway, but he supposes it’s just part of their siblings thing.

Then again, he wouldn’t know. He’s an only child, and his father had hit him more times than he had hugged him.

Not that he hit him often. It’s just that there were even fewer hugs.

“Magnus,” Alec says, smiling.

“Alexander,” Magnus answers, not quite smiling back.

“Hey, big bro,” Izzy says from behind him, and Magnus barely hears his small Izzy in response, but does see the way he looks almost shocked when she links their arms together and smiles up at him, like she doesn't do it every time. Magnus giggles a little, and Alexander looks at him like he’s just been caught dancing alone in his room, which only makes him giggle more. He’s too adorable.

“What?” he asks, almost defensive and definitely a little flustered.

“It’s just, your face,” Magnus answers, “if she weren’t your sister, I’d think you were scared of her.”

“He should be,” Izzy supplies. Alec rolls his eyes.

“I am very scared of her. Anyone who wears actual heels to class is, at the very least, insane,” Alec shoots back.

“That’s one way to look at it,” Magnus says, “another way is, if she’s going to suffer for a degree, might as well suffer for beauty too. Two in one.” he points at his own makeup at that, and shoots Alexander an almost self-deprecating smile.

“I really don’t believe in that,” Alexander says, quietly.

“Me neither, but it’s the best attempt at rationality I can make.”

Alec hides his following laughter behind his hand, and Magnus flashes him a proud smile.

Izzy, on the other hand, looks indignant. “You’re really gonna make fun of me while in full makeup and hair gel?”

“These aren’t uncomfortable,” Magnus argues, “besides, I do it to express myself, not for beauty. And since I’m trans, you can’t argue this point without sounding insensitive, so I win,” and flashes her his most annoying, shit-eating smile. He hears Alec snort.

She looks unimpressed. “And the skin-tight pants?”

“Ah,” Magnus says, and Alec full-on laughs this time.

He’s saved from looking unwitty by the sight of Dr. Garroway walking down the corridor. “Well, never let it be said that the lack of bells left me at a disadvantage. Bye, you two!” he says, sprinting down the corridor to another classroom before they can reply.

*

“You’re gonna see each other at lunch, Alec, there’s no need to watch him leave until the very last second. I swear, when you two start dating you’re gonna be like these insufferable couples that keep eating each other’s faces between every damn period.”

He grimaces, and pointedly ignores Izzy’s when. “Don’t ever say that again,” he deadpans. He still has nightmares from Kurtis-and-Amanda and the time he almost had to touch them in order to get to class. It’s like these people think they’re on Titanic or something. Everyone gets it, you were apart for 50 minutes. Jesus Christ.

“I mean, you two are cute, so if anyone can pull this off without being disgusting, it’s you.”

“You see, I think the problem with the world is that every one of these couples had a friend to tell them that.”

Izzy laughs in that particular way she always does when Alec makes a joke that isn’t directed at her - delighted and with just a small hint of surprise. It’s gotten rarer as Alec’s jokes became more frequent, but it’s still a sound he very much enjoys.

“And speaking of you and Magnus, what about that date?” she says in her typical teasing and nosy tone, a sound he very much does not enjoy.

He conveys that through a grimace. “It’s not a date, we’re going as friends.”

“Yes, I’ve heard about your advanced flirting techniques. Breadsticks, Alec? Really?”

“Well, he was the one who said he would do it. Were you grilling Magnus for information about this?”

“Very subtly, I promise,” she smiles at him, and he doesn’t believe her at all.

He huffs and begins to walk. They have a half-an-hour window between Izzy’s class and the next one, but he still pretends to be very focused on getting to the medicine building in time. Izzy is unbothered, and just keeps talking as she follows him.

“Seriously, Alec, why not take this chance? It’s gonna be nice,” she insists.

“There’s no chance to be taken,” he deadpans.

She rolls her eyes. He doesn’t see it physically, but he does spiritually. “Stop trying to close off to me, you know it won’t work. I’ve had years to get used to it and you are out of practice,” she points an accusing finger at him. He sighs, and stops walking.

“I mean it, Izzy. If I wanted an opportunity to tell him how I feel, then yes, this would be it. But I’m not, so we’re gonna eat breadsticks and keep on with our lives,” Alec says, crossing his arms.

Izzy looks like he just threatened to stab her, and somehow still less bothered than she should. “Come on, Alec. Don't you want him to at least know? Hiding doesn't do you any good, big bro," she says, in a way that would make him annoyed if she weren't staring at him with those big shiny eyes of hers. They always look like such a tragedy. Alec can't help but want to comfort her, even if this isn't about her about all.

"I'm not hiding. I'm telling you about it. I just don't want to tell him. He doesn't want a relationship and it's the least I could do to respect that."

"It's not disrespectful to feel, Alec," she says, holding him by the arm and all but forcing him to look at her tragedy eyes. "And even if he didn't like you back, don't you think he would like to know he's loved?"

"He knows he's loved," Alec argues. That much is true. Magnus might have his bad days and even trouble dealing with displays of love, but he knows he's loved, and he's been relearning that for a while now.

She sighs. “You know what I mean, Alec. What happened to your whole speech about how if you ever got the chance you’d romance him and how you didn’t get how Camille would not take her chance to treasure him like he deserved, and-”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Alec is not blushing, “it’s different now that I know that’s not what he wants.”

“They’ve been broken up for over two years, Alec. Magnus hasn’t said anything about whether or not he still thinks he isn’t ready. You don’t know how he feels about it now.”

“I’d still rather not assume.”

“And yet you’re assuming.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. He stares at her. Her eyebrow keeps raised. He keeps staring.

“Look, just go to the date, enjoy the whole candlelit table and flowers thing, have fun, and see what happens. Give yourself a chance,” she says, giving up before he did for once. He knows it’s for his sake, but he’s still gonna pretend it’s a victory. “Worst case scenario, he still doesn’t want it, and even then, he’s not gonna break. And you are going to be respectful and move on knowing you said how you felt.”

“We’re gonna be late to class,” Alec says.

Izzy lets it go.

*

Alec and Magnus are having lunch the next day - one of the few days in the week they both have enough time to - when Alec puts his tray down in front of Magnus, sits down, and says:

“So, when do you wanna go? On the date, I mean.”

“And a good day to you,” Magnus answers.

Alec rolls his eyes, “We’ve talked this morning.”

“Did we? I seem to only remember you grumbling.”

Alec has the grace to look sheepish. “Sorry. I didn’t sleep well.”

That makes Magnus pause, fork still halfway to his mouth. “Are you okay?” he asks. He knows Alec has a tendency to overwork himself, which Magnus really hates because it forces him to be a hypocrite and tell him not to. But it’s not even the end of the semester yet, and even if Alec is grumpy in the mornings, he usually manages to sleep okay at least.

“Yeah,” Alec answers nonchalantly after swallowing quite a big mouthful of pasta, and then proceeds to not elaborate.

Magnus raises his eyebrows at him, loudly.

“I promise I’m fine,” he says, corners of his mouth tugging up in a smile, the way they always do when the smile is showing despite himself. It always makes Magnus smile, too, and for a moment they stay like that, forks still hanging in the air, shy smiles whispering at each other.

“So, the date,” Alec finally says after a while, and Magnus snaps back to reality.

“Oh, yes, yes. Uh, I think I’m free the whole weekend? How about, huh, Friday night? Does that work? You don’t have any classes on Friday night, right?”

Alec scowls. “After the Mr. Aldertree - sorry, doctor Aldertree - fiasco? Don’t think so. I’ve learnt my lesson.”

Magnus laughs, “No offense, Alexander, but I honestly have no idea what you expected.”

“I expected a guy who’s done groundbreaking research in his field to have a modicum of common sense and teaching skills.”

“In this economy?”

“And also not have an ego bigger than the state of Alabama.”

“In this economy?”

Alec huffs, but Magnus can see the mirth in the corners of his eyes. “Fine, so maybe I’m an idiot. But I’m never an idiot in the same way twice.”

“Ah, an exercise in creativity, I see.”

Alec looks like he would be throwing something from his plate in Magnus’ direction, but there’s only pasta in it and throwing a single spaghetti in Magnus’ face wouldn’t have the desired effect. It’s a very specific look.

“Still, I’ve learnt my lesson. No more Friday night classes.”

“Okay, so.... Friday night?”

“Yeah,” Alec says with a small smile, “Friday night.”

*

FRIDAY night, huh? says a text that Magnus gets from Izzy that night.

At the risk of sounding cliché, can I pick you up at 7? says another one, from Alexander this time, not five minutes later. Magnus would have needed to remind himself this is not a date, if Alec hadn’t sent, the restaurant is closer to yours and it’s easier if we go together.

Magnus shudders at the thought of waiting for Alec alone in a fancy restaurant full of white snobs. Yeah, good thinking. He answers. Then, 7 sounds lovely.

Ok

Magnus rolls over on the bed, not knowing what else to say, and resolutely doesn’t think about how that sounded awkward and strained, and how a full night of having to remind himself Alec is not taking him on a date is going to be torture.

*

They don’t get to see each other the whole friday, which - is not unusual, actually. Magnus has 2 different lab classes on friday, so before the classes he’s always doing last minute studying, and after them he’s always chatting with Dr. Garroway. His love for lab classes is cute, really, and Alec loves the way his eyes light up when he talks about it. He just hates that he doesn’t even have the time to have lunch with him. And Alec has a pretty tight schedule, so he doesn’t have time to go and pay him a visit - which, look, is fine, it’s not like they’re attached by the hip.

But on that particular friday, it has him feeling nervous when he gets to Magnus’ loft, like it’s his wedding day and he hasn’t been allowed to see his future wife all day - which is ridiculous. He’s gay - and he doesn’t know what to expect.

Well, except he totally knows. Magnus is gonna look beautiful like he always does, probably in something silky-looking, his favorites. They always look expensive enough to fit just about anywhere - he’s probably gonna go for burgundy, his comfort color, which is great because it really suits him like no other-

tux… . e do..., he thinks when Magnus opens the door.

“Hello, Alexander,” Magnus says, all of his usual grace. The rings on his hands look smaller than usual, and his eyes are smoky and drawing all the attention when you look into his face.

tumx, Alec thinks, a little wonkly.

(It’s not really a tux, of course. Those are expensive and might be a tad much. But it’s a good suit that draws attention to his broad shoulders and his narrow hips, brings out the grace in his movements and makes his waist look perfect for Alec to slip his hands on, and that’s enough for him not to be able to tell the difference)

he has…… arm his brain supplies, right before he processes that Magnus is looking at him worriedly. His head is tilted to the side slightly, like a cat’s, and jesus christ, how is he so adorable?

“Alexander?” Magnus tries again, waving a little like he’s scared Alec suddenly lost his vision, “are you alright?”

“Fiiine,” Alec says, but he’s not sure whether he’s talking about himself or Magnus’, hm, ensemble.

Magnus looks at him like he doesn’t believe him, which is frankly offensive. He’s alright! More than alright. In fact, he might be dying!

Come on brain, think them thoughts, Alec tells himself, mentally slapping his own face. “I’m fine,” Alec says. “You just look very…” he makes a vague hand gesture, then realizes Magnus might actually be stupid enough to think he means it in a bad way, “you look stunning,” he finishes, and stubbornly looks directly into Magnus’ eyes as he says it. It’s worth it for the way Magnus flushes just a little bit, corners of his mouth twitching involuntarily as he looks himself down. He’s so beautiful, especially like this, when he’s pleased and unafraid to show it, happy and safe.

“Thank you, Mr. Lightwood. You look rather dashing yourself,” Magnus teases, doing that little head thing he does where he bobs it slightly a few times and perks up. It’s secretly one of Alec’s favorites, despite the fact that it usually means Magnus is teasing him.

“Can’t go wrong with a classic suit,” Alec answers, doing a little twirl.

Magnus laughs as he finally closes and locks the door behind him. “You’d be surprised,” he says, then extends his hand to Alec. “Shall we?”

Warm, Alec’s brain supplies one last time when Magnus jokingly interlaces their arms.

*

“No breadsticks?” is Alec’s first comment when he sees their table. Magnus resists the urge to elbow him.

“I’m afraid we don’t serve these here, sir,” the waitress answers, in the tone of a person who’s expecting another to throw a tantrum, and is but slightly inconvenienced by that. Magnus can’t help his small wince of sympathy, and Alexander looks appropriately sheepish.

“Oh, hm, no, that’s, that’s no problem,” he rushes to say, “I just kind of, hm, assumed, I guess. Sorry, hm,” he flails his hands around a little, and Magnus hides his smile. The waitress doesn’t, pleased and amused.

“That’s quite alright. You gentlemen make yourselves comfortable, and when you're ready to order, just call for Helen.” she smiles, leaving them to each oth- to their menus.

“This one is yours,” Alec says, handing his menu to Magnus.

Instead of taking it, he frowns. “What do you mean?”

“It’s the halal menu,” Alec explains, pointing at the small symbol on top. “I guess when Ragnor heard about the reservations he made sure to have it ready for you.”

Magnus feels the best kind of warm. The old man was a true softie. “That’s really thoughtful of him,” he says. He really didn’t have to. Magnus could have easily picked something that was allowed, and it’s not like Ragnor’s restaurant worked with a lot of haram foods anyway. But he appreciated the thought, deeply.

And if he feels like a hypocrite when he still orders a glass of wine, well.

It’s not that he doesn’t drink. He avoids it, and he avoids particularly strong stuff, and he never allows himself to get drunk or intoxicated, like the Quran says. But sometimes, well. Sometimes the urge to get just a little more comfortable is stronger than him.

Having Alexander smile up at him from the other side of a candlelit table like they’re sharing a secret is definitely one of these times.

Allah will just have to forgive him.

Alec raises his eyebrows when he sees him eyeing the drink menu. “We’re drinking today?” he asks, not unkindly. Magnus knows Alexander would never judge him for his faith.

“Well, as long as I don’t get drunk, it should be fine,” he answers easily, “besides, when will I get the chance to try something as fancy as this? We’re having this for free.” He knows his voice is way too smooth to not be a lie, but Alec only chuckles. “What?” he asks.

“Well, you probably could afford to come here if you really wanted to. You’re friends with the owner,” Alec points out, “and besides, I know you earn well.”

Magnus scoffs, “look who’s talking.” Mr. I’ll Waste Two Thousand Dollars To Stick It To Camille.

“You know I don’t want to depend on my parents,” Alec answers, truthfully. And yeah, Magnus knows that. But-

“I’m sorry that you spent so much money on me,” Magnus says, not knowing what else to do to express just how grateful he is that Alec did it, and at the same time, how guilty he feels about it.

“I’m not. You’re worth it,” Alec says, the softest punch Magnus’ gut has ever taken.

He almost chokes, but when he looks up, Alec is looking straight at him, with those intense, sincere eyes of his. It feels almost like a challenge, but somehow like they’re also on the same side. He opens his mouth.

“Are you gentlemen ready to order?” Helen asks, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. Magnus jumps, and she smiles at him like she’s going to pretend she didn’t see it.

Alec lets out a little “yes, hm,” and gestures vaguely at Magnus. The waitress makes no comment on his special menu, or his beverage choice. Alec finishes his order with “and to drink, same as him, please,” and Magnus smiles slyly when Helen leaves.

“Oh, we’re drinking today, I see,” he says, a little pleased with himself. Alexander drinks even less than him, and he doesn’t think he can forget his face when he first tried vodka.

“Hey, why not? Gotta make it count,” Alec says, shrugging a little exaggeratedly. Then he looks at Magnus and adds, “besides, trying something new can be good, sometimes. New beginnings and all that.”

“Famous last words,” Magnus laughs.

Alec makes a face at him. “Isn’t that what you’re always telling me to do?” he challenges.

“Me? Never,” Magnus shakes his head, mock-serious, “I like you just the way you are,” he finishes, not as mock-serious.

Alexander smiles brightly at him, and suddenly he can’t bring himself to regret saying it.

Ugh, he hasn’t even drunk anything yet, and he’s already running his mouth.

As if summoned by that thought, Helen appears by their side, bottle of wine in hand. She presents it to Magnus for inspection. “Huh,” he says.

“Oh, let me,” Alec grins. “My mom loves doing this,” he says when Magnus raises his eyebrows, and he knows from Alec’s wicked smile that he’s in for a treat. The waitress bites down a smile and puts a little bit of wine in his glass. Alec nods solemnly and raises the glass. “You need to check it against the light, to make sure that it, hm, lets you see the light,” Alec explains, “then you shake the glass a little, slightly, like this,” he says, his long fingers gripping at the base as he swishes the wine, “and then you smell it,” he takes a sniff. “Yup, wine,” he adds, and this time both Magnus and Helen do laugh. “Then you taste it and say a fancy adjective at the end,” he takes a little gulp. “Effervescent.”

Magnus almost doubles over. “That’s your fancy adjective? Effervescent?”

Alec looks way too pleased with himself, and perhaps the wine was a mistake, because Magnus is already feeling a little mellow. Alec gestures at both their cups, “it’s pretty good, thank you,” he says to Helen, and she smiles as she serves the both of them.

Magnus eyes his glass once she leaves, then finally raises it to Alexander. “Well,” he says, “to new beginnings.”

“To new beginnings,” Alec says, a little strained, and their glasses clink together.

*

Alec is not very resistant to wine.

He should have known. Neither is his mom. He still has very vivid memories of that one time he had to carry her from an italian restaurant after she drank a single glass of wine, giddy and chuckling and unstable on her feet. Izzy was very scared.

(So was he, a little bit. Maryse had always been a straight line; double edged, stable and to the point. But he knows, now, that he likes her better when she isn’t.)

He’s not quite that drunk. He’s pretty sure he can walk. The food also helps - Maryse had left without eating anything that day. But his mind is foggy and his tongue is loose and he’s leaning just a bit too much forward. And the scariest part is that he likes it, a little bit.

Alec has always hated feeling like he’s losing control - he likes his mind clear and sharp and attentive. But there’s something about this that just feels right - him relaxed, not overthinking, looking at Magnus exactly as much as he wants to. It doesn’t even feel unfamiliar, really - being here with Magnus, lightly touching the roses placed on the table between them, fingers twitching to put them in Magnus’ hair. He knows roses aren’t his favorites - he’s a jasmine guy, which is absolutely fair and wonderful and beautiful and honestly Magnus is right. Alec knows the reason is that they remind him of his mom, but Magnus would have to be blind not to know how beautiful jasmines look next to him. They’re both gracious, delicate in a way that doesn’t hint at weakness. On the contrary, their vulnerability is as obvious as it is hidden, a beautiful treasure, a faint smell, a cacophony of secrets lying in the simplicity.

“Flowers suit you,” Alec says musingly, still twisting the flowers delicately between his fingers. He would never hurt them, after all.

Magnus chuckles, and Alec makes a face. It’s unfair that he looks so much more composed than Alec does - he’s the one who actively avoids drinking, for fuck’s sake. Then again, Magnus’ walls have always been thicker than Alec’s. Especially when they are together.

Well, that’s not exactly true - he knows Magnus allows himself to show sides to Alec that he doesn’t show to most, particularly after Camille. Alec knows that Magnus’ trust is a treasure, and a rare one at that, and he marvels at having it, even if just to look at and admire.

But there’s always something that seems to be holding back within Magnus, something like fear when they’re around each other. He hates the idea that he makes Magnus uncomfortable in any way, but he doesn’t know how to help it.

Especially if the reason is the one he thinks it is.

He hates the idea that the way he feels is what makes Magnus hesitate so much around him, but he can’t really hold it against him.

Magnus finally speaks, his voice carefully removing the thoughts from Alec’s mind like they’re a small animal. “Flowers remind me of home,” he says. Alec almost says me too, but there have never been flowers in his mother’s house, much less in his dorm. “My next door neighbor when I was a kid was Balinese. Every day I would wake up and feel the smell of her incense burning, the flowers she left for Vishnu at her doorstep. When my mom was sick, she helped take care of her, and me. The flowers protected my mom, helped her pass easily,” he muses, “that’s really all I could ask.”

Alec instantly sobers up. “Well, I’m glad that you had her, at least. And the flowers,” he says, heartfelt. He hates the idea of Magnus being alone through that. He knows what his mom meant to him.

Magnus smiles at him. “Yeah, I can’t complain.” His hand reaches out to touch the same rose Alec’s fingers have been playing with, and for a split second, their fingers brush.

Alec doesn’t move for a second, caught up as he is in how much he enjoys it, but Magnus does. Alec suppresses a sigh and tries to backtrack. “I don’t mean it like that. I just meant- I’m glad you had that comfort.”

“I know,” Magnus says.

*

Magnus is not very resistant to wine.

He looks at his glass and pouts. Objectively, he knows he’s far from intoxicated - but Magnus is a giddy drunk, even when he’s just slightly tipsy. He feels a little jealous. Alec just looks a little more retracted, a little more musing. He’s almost afraid that Alec is bored, with the way his eyes seem to zero on Magnus like he’s deep in thought and barely aware of his surroundings. But he knows Alec is just - thinking. What about, he sure as hell doesn’t know.

But Magnus feels light and giddy and giggly and he envies Alec, just a little bit, for not feeling like he does right now - like he’s bubbling inside and needs to calm down and watch himself before he says something stupid. And Alexander is just right in front of him, talking nonsense about flowers, and looking beautiful in the intimate light, and at least Magnus can thank his giddiness for being a damn good mood breaker, because otherwise it would feel like they were having a moment.

As it is, though, he can just about remind himself that their relationship is strictly platonic.

“Shut up,” Alec says, pointing an accusing finger at him, but he can’t quite wipe the smile off his face, “you know I’m not big on drinking.”

“Well, so do you, and yet you decided to do it anyway,” Magnus points out, hiding his chuckle by taking another bite of his food.

“Excuse you, I was being supportive,” Alec counters.

He scoffs. “Supportive of what? My overboard-going tendencies?”

Alec rolls his eyes. “You only ever drink when you’re uncomfortable. And I didn’t want you to feel weird or bad about it, so I broke tradition with you.”

“Uh huh,” Magnus says, so he can ignore Alec’s overwhelmingly simple sweetness, “and I suppose Izzy really needed your support to drink a full cup of vodka in that party.”

“Oh my God, you promised to let it go-”

“I did no such thing.”

“You did. On that very same day.”

“Well, breaking a promise is only wrong the first time.”

“How is that true in any way?”

“I mean, it’s been a few years. You already know I won’t let it go.”

“It wasn’t even that bad!”

“No, but the face you pulled-”

Magnus laughs just at the thought of it, even more so when Alec makes a sour face at him.

“I had never tried it! I didn’t know it would taste so-”

“So what?”

Alec makes a face. “Alcohol-y”

“You didn’t expect alcohol to taste like alcohol?”

“I thought the point of making a drink was that it would taste like something edible! You know, so you can get drunk without having to go through whatever that was.”

Magnus laughs again, loud and carefree. “It’s plain vodka in a plastic cup, Alexander, not a cocktail.”

“It’s a damn lie, that’s what it is.”

“I don’t think it counts as a lie if no one ever pretended that vodka tastes good,” he counters.

“Izzy did! Izzy definitely did! Hell, Maia too-”

“And you trusted Maia?”

Alec looks defensive. “Well, Meliorn too-”

“And you trusted Meliorn?”

Alec stops and looks at him with wide eyes. “You are right,” he says, like the truth shakes him to his core, “I’m an idiot.”

Magnus laughs again, and some white guy in a nearby table shoots him a look for being loud, but at this point, he finds that he doesn’t care anymore.

*

A few glasses of water later, Alec and Magnus are walking back to Magnus’ place, the cool night air helping sober them both up.

"That was fun," Magnus says. His tone sounds like laughter, and Alec can't help the smile that blooms on his face. Not that he would have any reason to fight it. "I know we only went as friends, but… It's been so long since I've last been on a date. I'd missed it."

"Really?" Alec asks. He doesn't stop dead in his tracks, or trips over his own feet, falls on his face and smashes his teeth into his skull, dying instantly, but it's close. His pace lowers considerably.

"Yeah," Magnus answers, giving him a look that perfectly conveys that Alec is being weird. But Alec doesn't really care, because he knows that, and also he feels like he's close to a breakthrough. His whole body is buzzing with anticipation, like an idea is about to be born.

None of that must be showing in his body language, he thinks, because Magnus starts to cower, like he's afraid he's done something to scare Alec off. That’s what snaps him back into reality, and thankfully he’s faster than Magnus’ hiding tendencies.

"I thought you didn't want to date anyone. After Camille," he says. Not overeager, not demanding. Just curious, conversational, giving Magnus room to answer without feeling pressured.

He does hold his breath, though.

Magnus seems to muse for a second, which unknots something that sat heavily on Alec's belly - he doesn't want a pre-fabricated answer, so he's glad Magnus is actually thinking it over - and uses the ribbon to make a thousand others in his chest.

"I didn't," Magnus says. Then, after a small pause, "I couldn't. After everything, I felt like- I couldn't trust anyone. Couldn't trust myself," he emphasizes. It's something Alec kind of admires, how Magnus always thinks over his words, tries to express his feelings in the most accurate possible way. Sometimes Alec feels like words get the best of him. But Magnus handles them carefully, like they're precious, and dangerous. Like someone who wants to be understood. "To be with someone, when I knew I could- let them treat me like that. I know it's not my fault," he says quickly, raising a hand to interrupt the ghost of a protest from Alec, "but I knew I needed time. To heal. To fully understand what she did, and what what she did did to me. But… It's been a while now. I've found that I trust again, when that seemed impossible before. And that I know what I want. And that I can have a relationship, maybe precisely because I don't feel like I need one," he plays with his earlobe a little, the way Alec knows he does when he feels like he's spoken carelessly, "that's not quite right. What I'm trying to say is that I trust myself now, to be a part of a relationship, and not under it."

Alec nods, a little dumbly. He’s not really holding his breath anymore, but he feels like it is captive anyway. "Do you want to?" he asks, the words leaving his mouth like a gasp.

Magnus stops then, and his eyes only meet Alec's for a second before flickering down. "Yeah," he says, stillness embedded in his tone, "I want to."

Just like that.

They’re both quiet for a second, but Alec doesn’t feel still. He feels like something inside of him is taking flight and singing, like there’s a rush inside of him, like suddenly his body is flaring to life. The smile that blooms on his face then is slow, but not because it’s tentative, but rather because it is being savoured.

"It's a shame then, that I didn't take you out on a real one."

Magnus' eyes widen. "What?"

"Well," he smiles at Magnus, a little sheepish, but with an edge of something else tugging at its corners, "I had a good setup to ask you out, is all." He ruffles through his hair, a little nervous. "Not that I think you'd necessarily go with me, I mean. Just. Could have used the opportunity. If you wanted to."

"I didn't think you'd want to," Magnus admits. He's not more wide-eyed than before, but there's something about his surprise that just swims in the brown of his eyes, clear as day, and as alluring to Alec as always.

"I want to. Been wanting to for a long time," he says, in lieu of something like are you SERIOUS? because when he tells Magnus that Magnus is, well- everything, it's gonna be with prettier words, and after the simpler parts have already been established.

Magnus looks flabbergasted, but manages out a "me too," quiet and full of wonder, as he searches Alec's face. Not like he's looking for something, but like he's mapping it, committing it to memory.

Alec feels like something just burst between them, an explosion of colors, of smoke, of perfumes, like the essence of a carnival, wonder and happiness and life. And yet, they're so still. They bask in it, letting all the dancing happen in the way they look at each other.

Alec reaches to cup his face, and for a second it feels like he’s tainting something sacred. Then Magnus melts into it and smiles at him, and he feels like god with his creation at his fingertips.

He can’t do much but stare, and Magnus just stares at him right back. There’s a softness in Magnus’ eyes that Alec is sure is reflected in his, but there seems to be a distance that won’t allow them to meet. The air between them feels heavy, like a piece of rubber keeping two ends of electricity apart. It crackles at the edges, but feels powerless, stuck, unmoving.

“Let's have another one then,” Alec whispers, like he’s afraid the noise will shatter their touch and keep them apart forever. “A park. At night. Just the two of us, the moonlight, the flowers around. What do you think?"

"I'd like that," Magnus admits, in that tone of his that feels naked, that slips off all of Alec's defenses in its simplicity.

"Good," Alec says, making up his mind. "Let's go then. Right now."

Magnus barely has the time to blink before Alec grabs his hand and leads the way.

*

"You know, I really didn't expect the night to turn out this way," he says, almost musingly, legs kicking up slightly on the bench. It’s a beautiful night, even with the inevitable dull in the stars and moon from the city’s lights and pollution; there are no clouds, and the soft silver light that falls on their joined hands on the bench makes the whole thing look almost ethereal. Magnus usually likes the silence, but right now it feels like without words to keep them grounded they will be swept away. Which he really doesn’t want. He rather likes the way Alec’s looking at him, playing with his fingers absentmindedly and just radiating affection in that grand way of his. It feels almost weird to bask in it.

"Me neither," Alec answers, and it sounds like a confession.

There’s a moment of silence, peaceful and musing, and then Alexander startles from whatever daydream he seemed to be having. “Wait. This doesn’t have anything to do with what Camille said that day, does it?”

It takes Magnus a moment to understand what Alec means, and then he almost falls over the both of them in his haste to send that thought away. “What? No! I swear, this has nothing to do with Camille. I wouldn’t do this to you, and I’ve been pining for you far too long for it to be-” he is interrupted, half by Alec’s confused expression, half by the startled laugh that seems almost punched out of him.

“Sorry,” Alec says, seeming as surprised by his outburst as Magnus is, “It’s just- that’s not what I meant. I meant her comments about the whole trans thing,” he clarifies. Then groans, “oh God, she wasn’t talking about the money at all before that, was she? That bitch-”

“Of course you’d worry about my self esteem first,” Magnus mumbles.

“Oh yeah, because you did so different.”

He really shouldn’t feel so up for an argument when Alec raises his eyebrows at him, challenging and sarcastic, but he does. “Well, excuse me for not immediately guessing you were worried about my ex’s transphobic comments,” he says. Then he sighs, “but- not really, I suppose. I mean, I know you’re not like that. Although I can’t say it never crossed my mind on bad days, either. Mostly, I just didn’t think you liked, well, me.”

Alec looks at him like he’s just said that he thought dicks were placed under the armpits, so he feels the need to defend himself. “And you’ve never shown interest in anyone!”

“Yeah, anyone that wasn’t you.”

Magnus pauses. “Well,” his hand hovers between them, an aborted gesticulation whose meaning even he doesn’t know, “I didn’t know that.”

Alec huffs, “and here I was, thinking that I was making you uncomfortable. Even Izzy told me to take it down a notch!”

That one is knew, Magnus thinks. “That doesn’t sound like Isabelle.”

“Well, it was more like ‘stop wasting all your energy in pining and use it to ask him out instead’, but I wasn’t gonna do that, so, you know, that’s basically what she meant.”

Magnus doesn’t know whether to burst out laughing, make an offended face, or frown, so he’s sure his face is doing something really weird right now. If Alexander notices, he doesn’t comment on it, but his eyes seem too soft for someone who has.

“I can’t believe Izzy knew all this time,” he mumbles, instead of addressing all the other parts.

Alec looks offended, “hey! She’s my sister! I tell her this stuff. Well, not that she needed me to, but, you know.”

Magnus laughs. It’s funny how, despite the sense of unrealness and stillness that’s still settled between them, it seems so easy to be talking to Alec about their feelings. It feels like any other natural conversation between them, like one of these late night sleepover talks when he could barely process what he was actually saying. Warm and comfortable and safe. “That sounds like Isabelle. She knew about me, too,” he says, “I guess I should be thankful that she didn’t tell you.”

Alec’s whole being softens at that. “She’s a good friend,” he says, looking intently at their joined fingers.

“She is. But I’m still not sure if I’m all that thankful,” he’s only half-joking, but when his eyes flick from said fingers to Alec’s face, he finds that he can’t resent anything that brought them to this.

“Well, I am. I’m glad we got to do this in our own pace.”

Magnus can’t argue with that. “I suppose,” he says, looking away.

He feels Alec’s hands caressing his hair slightly, and can’t help but turn to look at him. He shouldn’t be surprised by the way Alec looks at him - Alexander’s never been anything if not honest, and he’s always known that all the tenderness in the world could easily fit into his eyes. But it still takes his breath away, the warmth that they radiate, the fact that right now it’s just for him.

He feels humbled, and so, so lucky. It fills him to the brim, and when he takes a breath, the air between them feels renewed, and incredibly light.

“Magnus,” Alexander says, and his hand comes to rest on Magnus’ cheek again, a reedition of a few moments ago, when he had filled Magnus with wonder just as full and just as easily. “I’m glad we’re here.”

“Me too,” he breathes out, easy as truth.

They kiss, and it feels like redemption.

*

“Oh, shut up,” Magnus says, bumping their shoulders together, and if it was supposed to be a form of retaliation, well, Alec’s smile should tell him he didn’t succeed. All it served was to remind him that they were holding hands, which Alec was absolutely ecstatic about. Even more contact sounds like the opposite of a problem to him.

He raises Magnus’ hand and kisses the back of it. Magnus freezes instantly, and he feels a little sheepish. “Too much?” he asks, Magnus’ hand still almost touching his lips. Still held in his.

“No such thing,” Magnus says, easily. It always gives him a little whiplash, how quickly Magnus recovers from these shocks, but he knows Magnus is being sincere. It’s right there, on his eyes. “I don’t think ‘too much’ is a term anyone would use for your side of this,” he flails his hand around slightly, “for lack of a better word, relationship.”

“Relationship sounds great,” Alec says.

Magnus smiles at him, small and private.

“You’re not too much,” he adds, almost an afterthought.

His smile disappears, but there’s something brighter in the corner of his eyes, and Alec can’t say he minds. He kisses the back of Magnus’ hand again. “I want you just like this, Magnus. I’ve had plenty of time to know that I love every part of you.” He knows he might be coming off too strong, but he knows Magnus is insecure about this, knows how many times Camille told him he’s too loud or too bright or too whiny or too - everything. Everything Magnus was, she wanted to erase, like it would make him better. He doesn’t want him to think he needs to stop being for Alec to like him. He likes it when Magnus is.

And if coming off too strong is the price to pay for him knowing that, it’s worth it.

But if the way Magnus is smiling at him right now is any indication, he thinks he’s coming off just perfect. It’s not a feeling he knows very well. Or, well, that’s a lie - he knows it very well with Magnus. But everyone else seems to think he expresses himself too bluntly, too simply, too harshly. One time he was even told he had “the emotional vocabulary of a child” - one of the weirdest insults he had ever heard.

But Magnus liked that. Magnus knew what he meant and didn’t add new meanings to things he never said and understood exactly what he meant. It was a breath of fresh air, to just say, and be understood.

It’s always so natural, with Magnus.

“Well,” Magnus says, “glad we cleared that up.”

Alec can’t help it. He laughs.

“Yes, well, I think we had enough misunderstandings already.”

“Like I said, shut up,” he huffs indignantly, “there’s no way I could have known-”

“Oh my God, Magnus, are you serious? I’ve never been able to conceal a feeling in my entire life-”

“That’s a lie and you damn well know it, Stoic Lightwood-”

“How is it a lie, everyone noticed-”

“Well, if that’s the metric we’re gonna go with everyone noticed my crush as well.”

“I have an excuse! Two excuses! You told me you didn’t want to date again-”

“That was two years ago!”

“Well, you didn’t take it back!”

“Well, I thought by this point surely I wouldn’t have to-”

“Humankind has spent millenia trying to develop accurate and understandable language, and every time you don’t use it, you spit in its face.”

Magnus laughs loudly - a bark that seems to be almost punching its way out of him, ungraceful and sudden, one of his favorite Magnus sounds - and, way more gracefully, spins so he’s in front of Alec and pulls him by their still linked hands. He takes a second to look at Alec, as if asking for permission, so Alec beats him to it.

And just like that, they kiss, a sloppy thing that loses its rhythm in the constant interruption of their giggles, their focus more on the bright newness of this kind of touch than on the actual kiss. The back of Magnus’ neck is hot and smooth under Alec’s hand, his buzzed hair prickling at his skin and making him feel like it’s caressing him back. Magnus melts into it, the way Alec knows he always does when his scalp is touched, but even with this knowledge he can’t help the wonder that overcomes him. Finally, he’s allowed to do this with no what ifs in the back of his head. It’s just them, being.

He opens his eyes slowly, savoring everything that comes into focus - the corners of Magnus’ lips, tugging up; the soft glow that Magnus’ skin gets at night, brown and beautiful; Magnus’ eyes, so honest and bright. The small market on the background, the one where Magnus always goes to buy his herbal tea and is friends with the entire staff.

“Magnus,” he says slowly, “aren’t we a few blocks past your loft?”

Magnus blinks. Once, twice. His eyes refocus slowly, like there’s something swirling behind them. Alec forgets what he was talking about.

“Ah,” Magnus says, “looks like we are.”

They look at each other.

“We should probably go back,” Alec says.

“We should,” Magnus agrees.

Neither of them move.

Alec’s hand is still on Magnus’ neck, he notices. It still feels warm, and if he brushes his thumbs against Magnus scalp, he can see his eyes fluttering for just a split second.

Magnus breaks first. “You can stay over,” he says.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s cold. And dark. And the campus is not very close. The walk back could be dangerous. You know,” he says.

Alec smiles. He’s heard that speech many times over the years. It was an almost inevitable conclusion to most of their hang outs.

It usually ended with Magnus saying, “and I have the big spare mattress for you.” Alec is glad it didn’t. He kisses Magnus once, just because he can.

“Sounds like a great plan,” he says.

They’re still giggling when they get to Magnus’ loft.

*

Alec is a teddy bear, Magnus finds out.

He was slightly scared that asking Alexander to sleep at his would make him think Magnus wanted sex, which - wouldn’t be a problem, per se, except it’s been way too long since he’s last done it and it still feels like it’s tainted with memories of- pain. And exposure, and humiliation.

And not the good kind, either.

So he’s not sure he doesn’t want that yet, not when this feels so new already, and he’s scared that he won’t be able to say no to Alec, or that if he does, that Alec will be disappointed, that Alec will think Magnus doesn’t trust him, that Alec will reject him. Instead, Alexander asks him shyly whether or not he should get the mattress; and the smile that blooms in his face when Magnus says “I thought maybe we could… Cuddle,” is not something Magnus will forget soon.

Magnus puts on his pajamas and Alexander does his whole T-shirt-and-boxers thing with the spare clothes he has at Magnus’ - not on purpose, there’s just always something he forgets to take home, and at this point it’s just practical to leave them there for next time - and when Magnus comes back from his night prayer, Alexander is already on his bed, arms spread wide.

Magnus scowls. “I don’t believe I said that the bed was gonna be all yours, Alexander,” he says.

“There’s plenty of room,” Alec counters.

“Oh, really? Where?”

Alec smiles like he just fell for a trap, but it’s not predatory. It feels less like looking into the abyss and more like reaching the top of the roller coaster. He might fall, but he knows he’s safe.

Alec launches on him, grabs him by the waist, and falls back on the bed with Magnus on top of him.

“Very comfortable,” Alec says.

Magnus blinks, but he’s nothing if not adaptable. “Can’t say I disagree,” because, well. Alec is strong and warm and his arms are wrapped around Magnus, and yeah, he’s definitely slept in worse positions.

He’s glad that Alexander is so comfortable too, because if it were up to him things would be a lot more awkward. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he still isn’t sure Alexander would. He suddenly realizes that he has no idea what Alexander is like in a relationship - whether or not he’s big on PDA, or clingy when they’re alone, or romantic, or reserved. And there’s still a part of him that doesn’t feel- allowed to ask.

But that’s the good thing about Alexander, isn’t it? He knows what he wants and doesn’t expect Magnus to know as well. He always tells him and always listens to him in return. Magnus feels a little lighter, less tense. Of course, he’s known for a while that relationships can- should feel like this, hell, he’s experienced it. But to feel it again is like a discovery, nevertheless. He eases into it, glad to know he’s comfortable, and smiles.

Alec is smiling right back at him. “Yeah?” he says.

“If I’m being honest,” Magnus replies, a little teasingly, “I don’t remember what we were talking about.”

Alexander laughs, grabs his face and kisses him. Kisses him in the lips, then cheeks, forehead, collarbone, teasing little butterfly kisses that have Magnus giggling and trying to stop from thrashing - he doesn’t want Alexander to stop, not really, but it’s a kneejerk reaction. Whether it’s to the ticklish sensation or the sudden affection is something he doesn’t want to think about.

And he doesn’t have to, because Alexander just keeps it up, holding him and kissing his face and smiling so wide it’s like his dream is coming true. Magnus smiles back when he stops for breath, allowing himself to bask in the moment.

Alexander runs his fingers through his hair. “I love you,” he says.

“Love you too,” Magnus sighs in response. It feels automatic and easy, like it’s a well-established ritual, like they’re saying it as they’re old and gray and holding hands as they watch the stillness right before the sunset. Like the words are a part of time itself.

They both realize what just happened at the same time.

“Uh,” Alexander says.

“Well,” Magnus says, licking his lips, “might have gone a bit fast with that one.”

“Is it fast if technically I’ve known for over a year?”

“That’s a great question,” Magnus pretends to muse, “what do you think, Alexander?”

Alec can’t help the grin that takes over his face at his full name. “I think it’s long overdue,” he says, instead of showering him with kisses all over again. “Been feeling really deprived, you know? Wild fantasies of telling you that I love you, sleepless nights having naughty thoughts about cuddling.”

“Oh, Alexander,” Magnus answers, delighted, “cuddling?” in his best mock-scandalized voice.

“Even worse,” Alec confesses solemnly, “spooning.”

“Well, I’ve always had a reputation of being wild,” Magnus says, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confirms, “but you turn off the lights.”

Alec groans, and Magnus doesn’t think he’s ever smiled so wide before.

*

The next morning, Alec wakes up to Magnus disentangling himself from Alec’s arms, and a musical laughter when he desperately tries to hold him against his chest for a little more. “I’m just getting up for Fajr,” he says, kissing Alec’s forehead. “I’ll be back in a second.”

He wakes up again not twenty minutes later, to Magnus getting back to the exact same position as before, well secured in Alec’s arms, legs tangled in his.

Izzy doesn’t ask a single question when Alec tells her he won’t make it to lunch that day.

#that is a long boy #sh #shadowhunters #fic #fanfic #sh fic #malec #malec fic #magnus bane #alec lightwood #camille's trash party #fluff #college au #mundane au #isabeliorn #claiabelle #alec lightwood's tux kink #overflowing trashcan #mutual pining #friends to lovers #idiots to lovers

[sumukhcomedy]

Should We Silence Bad Comedy?

I stopped writing in this at the end of last year mostly because I was sick about writing about comedy. This is time-consuming and I had other things to work on and the criticism and opinions of comedy have started to feel far more hack than comedy itself can be. But going on the road and doing comedy this past year, a number of different comedians and audience members brought up this blog and so I figured that, when I felt like it, I’d still post in this again. As you’ll see, given the numerous links to previous essays I’ve written, I’m writing yet again about topics I’ve already written about before but it’s only because comedy, comedians, and the mostly meaningless debate over it continues to get worse.

The most recent debates conjure up what continues to be the crux of comedy’s biggest current issue with simple terms like “free speech,” “PC,” “woke,” etc. just being thrown around with little care for an in-depth analysis of what these mean and how they mean different things to different people. This rears its head yet again with the recent Netflix specials of Dave Chappelle and Bill Burr and the firing of Shane Gillis by Saturday Night Live. It’s a strange moment in which those at the top of stand-up comedy and certain comedians on the rise are being lumped together over these issues and it’s created a muddied mess. The perspective I have and that I wish others had was that we should all think deeper on this and fall somewhere in the middle.

I’m not going to get much into the Shane Gillis situation mostly because I don’t care. I didn’t read much about it and I got the gist of what happened and that’s all that’s really needed at this point in a case of creating something likely very stupid that masks itself as comedy. If you’re in comedy long enough, you understand that it’s a business like everything else. For as “unique” or “alternative” or “fearless” as your comedy may be or you perceive it to be, it still will be scrutinized by corporate interests. SNL still has to abide by the cultural phenomenon it has become and that it is part of a corporate juggernaut. All Gillis had to do was play the usual card that comes with public relations and apologize in an appropriate manner. As most stories do, this would have all blown over and been forgotten about in a week or less. He chose not to apologize appropriately. He was fired as a result. That was his choice to double down on what seems to be both his past and his present and his support of what I can only perceive to be bad, unfunny, and uncreative comedy.

Chappelle and Burr are at a different level because they’ve earned it and, unfortunately, they get a huge brunt of it because they are famous and the expectations associated with them are so high. Why Chappelle doubled down on making jokes at the expense of the trans community or why he did a hack impression of a Chinese man in his most recent Netflix special is beyond me. Why Burr chooses to rail yet again at audiences being offended by what he says is beyond me as well especially when he’s mentioned this in a previous special in a much funnier manner. It seems only like they’ve lived at the top in comedy for so long and are now irritated by unnecessary criticism. In some sense, it’s understandable. But, for the most part, it seems just as unnecessary as the poor criticism. Why create uninventive comedy based out of anger towards audiences that, for whatever reason, don’t like you anyway rather than create comedy that’s observational and hilarious and was what made you considered the best in the business? I have no clue but this is at least where part of the material in Chappelle and Burr’s recent specials are at. 

                               Sprinkle some crack on this impression.

But the types of individuals that seem to draw the ire of Chappelle and Burr and went after Gillis as well are equally bizarre to me. The fact that our culture has some sort of desire to tear down comedy or that it should fit some sort of “good” and “sensitive” mold for all is strange as well. It speaks to these individuals not actually having a knowledge of how comedy, business, and most of this country operates. Forcing someone into experiencing how comedy should be experienced and what kind of comedy they are allowed to like doesn’t change them. Making an effort to “cancel” a person simply because their comedy is in poor taste doesn’t particularly resolve anything other than to embolden those that support such bad comedy. This, to me, isn’t the way to change minds, implement diverse perspectives, or educate people in comedy. But, I’m not the loudest person in the room or a part of the masses of either side in this issue. Most sound and reasonable comedians and audience members aren’t a part of this conversation because we’re, shockingly, creating and enjoying good comedy. 

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Chappelle is one of the greats to me. Killin’ Them Softly was one of, if not the, most influential comedy specials on me. I still love him and thinks he’s hilarious. It doesn’t mean that I support his jokes about the trans community or find them funny. It doesn’t mean I understand why he did or talked about some of the things he talked about in his most recent special. As friend Curtis Cook put it best on Twitter, “Dave Chappelle is kinda my idol ‘cause it’s always been my goal to walk away from 50 million dollars after realizing audiences are laughing in a way that belittles the struggles of my people then return a decade later to make that money back by belittling the struggles of others.” I can’t explain why Chappelle said or does what he does on a stage now but it’s his right he’s earned and there’s certainly a lot of money involved in it.

Regardless, I also laughed hard at certain parts in his special. The stuff about R. Kelly, gun control, and Jussie Smollett were vintage Chappelle to me. Is it his best special? No. Is he becoming old and detached? Likely. Does it mean I dislike him and kick his entire comedy to the curb? (No, or at least not yet unless some horrible, illegal stuff comes out about him). The same goes for Burr.

Gillis, on the other hand, was fired for statements he said that have been around for as long as comedy has existed. Bad comedy that punches down, is uninventive, and involves slurs will persist. I can say that because I have traveled the country for over a decade doing stand-up comedy and the audiences for that are there. They are there because people’s perspectives on comedy still are mostly in that realm either because they haven’t been exposed much to quality, creative comedy, they haven’t gone out of their comfort zone in life or comedy so bad comedy is all they know, or they are, frankly, just dumb people. But, as I mentioned, I don’t think you have the potential for changing people with comedy by forcing a certain type of experience on them. You change them by providing them with a different option and hope they enjoy it and learn from it. In many cases, they do not, but when they do, it’s far more rewarding as a performer to do that than to spend time making sure some guy you don’t know who probably sucks at comedy anyway gets fired from a job.

In my approach to comedy, I want to experience as many different types of audiences as possible. That’s just me. Comedy has always been segregated because our nation is still unraveling from a history of segregation. And I can at least say, having the opportunity to perform in a variety of different places, that there are equal amounts of bad comedy in all of them. There is bad comedy in comedy clubs (most of it). There is bad comedy in small towns (most of it). There is bad comedy in corporate events (most of it). There is bad comedy in alternative rooms (most of it). There is bad “ethnic” comedy (most of it). Maybe my comedy is bad to you, too! That’s just part of it all. And as we supposedly attempt progression in society, through the Internet and this discussion and debate on comedy, we are actually segregating ourselves even more than how segregated comedy rooms already are.

Look, I’ve been shit on for my race and who I am my entire life. I’ve been told by bookers that my material will “sail over their audience’s heads.” I’ve also been booked where I watched my comedy “sail over an audience’s head” and bomb horribly. I’ve also been booked and appreciated immensely by audiences. I’ve had the opportunity to headline really great rooms and open for really great comedians that I respect and that are now friends. All of that doesn’t happen without allowing myself to experience all aspects of comedy, take some shit and unnecessary criticism in life and comedy, and be better personally for it. Whether audiences will be better for it is up to them. Whether my fellow comedians choose to do this and try to be better is up to them as well. But, right now, we’re just in a vicious circle (thanks Dane Cook!) over this topic of bad comedy and the defense of bad comedy that makes all of comedy look dumber than its audiences. From my perspective, we shouldn’t silence bad comedy. It only energizes those that love and defend it. We should actually be continuing to create better comedy than it and hope it can change others. It probably won’t but whatever. It’s better than bitching constantly about the same topics over and over again but, then again, that appears to be what we’re fighting over in comedy: the ability to tell hacky stuff in our specific comedy room of choice and defend those we don’t even know to be able to do the same thing.

Laughter is a unique thing because it’s an emotion we can all have as humans. We all can experience it in whatever way we like and we’re bonded together by it. What prompts laughter for each person is different just as what leads to our other emotions are different as well among each of us. We shouldn’t condemn people for laughing just as we shouldn’t condemn them for crying or getting angry at a moment they likely shouldn’t have. We should try to educate them or make them laugh at something better just as we try to make our other emotions like sadness or anger better in other parts of our lives. If trying to make better comedy or these types of people laugh fails, then we move on. They’re left to live in whatever hole they would like with comedy. But there are plenty of people open to being better with comedy. Unfortunately, for now, comedians and their audiences are so caught up in a defense or condemnation of comedy in its most uncreative forms that they aren’t actually looking at why they appreciate comedy to begin with.

#dave chappelle #bill burr #shane gillis #snl #comedy #stand up comedy #pc #hack #woke #free speech #comedy special #netflix

[werevulvi]

Oh my god, what a day it's been! Detrans woman hanging around in the city core on a busy day. I've gotten more attention for looking like a gnc man during these 2-3 hours than I ever got for looking like a gnc woman during the total of my life up until today, and that's not an exaggeration. It was intense. Today's look was hyper feminine but with a beard stubble. To reiterate, I first went to the city during the afternoon and stopped by a hair salon to get my left ear pierced for drop-in. I went in there at the same time as two guys and the hair dresser greeted us while working on a third guy's hair. She exclaimed happily that she thought it was fun that 3 men where there at the same time, implying she usually only gets female customers. I just kept my mouth shut and nodded with a forced smile. I had to wait half an hour until it was my turn. One of the guys there gave me a lot of approving looks (kinda flirting? I dunno) and let me go before him. The hairdresser got very excited about that I picked the pink jewellery (was the only one that would match my ever so wine red and golden outfits) and then took me aside to a small room for piercing my ear. She was super sweet all along, but also noticably over-joyed by me. She gave me a bag of easter candy (which she didn't give any of the guys), gave me a hug and said congratulations. Thanks... for the candy I guess? Oh I dunno. I paid and went my merry way. Onwards to the lgbt cafe event which was my reason for going to the city. Thus far no one's ever really talked about anything actually lgbt related there, expect from some have talked about their same sex partners. But this time there was a new person there and she brought up my looks after she had talked about her trans son for a bit (who was also there, but clearly uninterested in participating in any discussion). And she asked me if I had changed to my current outfit upon arriving at the cafe or if went like that from my home. I told her went like that and she said that must require a lot of confidence. Oh yeah, it sure does. So we talked a bit about me but I didn't say I'm detrans or a lesbian and it became just about what I appear like on the surface without even mentioning genders. I didn't wanna make the conversation super personal and didn't know what to say either. Talking about detransing in Swedish without using a whole bunch of English terms that no one's heard of, bio sex and genitals, is a damn challenge! So mostly I just don't say anything about it. But I had a good time at the cafe. It was good conversation, and the pecan pie was good. When that was over I went back to the city core to spend an hour just waiting for the bus. Well that's just what it's like living on a small island. It could be worse, I guess. At least there is a bus. It was warm enough to sit on a bench outside, so I did that while chain-smoking cause I was bored. However, several strangers took turns in keeping me company. First there was two guys (around 20 years old) walking past me. One of them said "you're sexy" and I thought that was awkward so I just said "thanks." The other guy said to the first guy somewhere behind my back: "Don't you see she has a beard?" to which I had a hard time containing my laughter, so it became a half suffocated giggle. I mean, that's what I thought was awkward. Then that other guy kept circling me, asking random questions about my clothes, shoes, jewellery, nail polish, my phone, where I lived, as well as my name. I told him my name's Laura. He had a few other guys in his company that stared at me while also circling me but they didn't say anything. I think they went and came back 3 or 4 times, and each time that same guy kept bombarding me with questions that I barely even got the time to answer. I kept calm and not defensive. His tone was kind and non-threatening, and I was fine with it, but after a while I started getting a bad feeling about it. Like if they planned on doing something bad. But soon after I got that bad feeling they left and didn't come back. A short moment after that, a small group of young teens walked up to me, 3 boys and one girl. The boys started talking to me while the girl strayed off, saying the girl had said "fucking trans" to me, but that they were totally supportive of me. One of them said "Everyone can be however they want." They then left and came back again another moment later. One of them said to me, as I was smoking a cigarette: "It's bad to smoke" to which I said: "There's a lot that's bad here in life." "That's so fucking deep, in just three words" he replied back, then asked if he could borrow my lighter. "Sure" I said. Then they wanted me to help them light a cigarette, and I said okay. Then the girl said: "They're 12 years old!" to which I shrugged and said I've bad influence. Then helped the boy light his cigarette. The girl, who didn't look much older (maybe 14 or 15) asked if she could borrow my lighter too. Sure. I calmly asked her: "Did you say 'fucking trans' to me?" to which she responded: "No, I asked if you're trans." "Oh, okay" I said. After that I was mostly alone on that bench, just looking around at the neon signs on the buildings and the doves flying around, bored out of my skull. Was some 30 minutes left to wait. When I had gotten to the bus station, I ended up standing right next to a few elderly people who may have been drunk, or just strange. One of them, a man walked up to me and asked: "Are you a guy?" I hesitated for a moment, knowing what I looked like and how complicated it is to explain the truth... so I lied. "Yes" I said, as I felt a weight in my chest. The man then stretched out his hand to greet me and I again had to think, before I introduced myself as John, my old male name. The weight in my chest sank. He told me, hesitantly, that he thought I still looked nice while gazing my outfit. He was friendly and totally non-threatening, and seemed intrigued by me. An elder woman who obviously knew the guys talked to me a bit too. She looked rather peculiar too and kept shouting at the guy, with the hoarsest voice I've ever heard from an actual person, to shut the fuck up whenever he talked to his friend. It was vaguely amusing. I didn't like lying about my sex or using my old name like that, but I was just too tired to cause hassle, and knowing people don't ever believe I'm female, I figured that what he asked was not actually a question... but a statement. And my lie was just me merely playing along, cause it was the easiest option."Can't I just get back home already, I'm so fucking tired" I thought to myself while waiting for the bus for those last 5 minutes. Eventually I did, and now I'm definitely exhausted. I didn't know that just going in to the city for a piercing and a meeting at the lgbt cafe would turn into an adventure of probably 10 different strangers in total talking to me out of the blue. Like that's the kinda stuff I see in American Hollywood movies, it doesn't happen in real life, in little Sweden, right? Also, it's Maundy Thursday today, but I don't think I blended in much with the Easter witches... but I kept joking to myself that I did. At the end of this day, I have mixed feelings about all those encounters. The cafe, the hairdresser and the kids I feel mostly positive about, but the older guys... not so much. Moral of the story... it's a billion times harder and scarier to be perceived as a gnc man than as a gnc woman. I feel like this was an almost dangerous look to have in the city. And being aware of the risks is one thing, but actually taking them is another thing. Is it bravery... or stupidity? I've always balanced that thin line, between bravery and stupidity. Somehow I ended up in gnc men's fight for more tolerance. I may not be one of them, but I'm clearly being treated as if I am. And for not even being trans... I'm very visibly trans. And it's uncomfortable to me now that people are much more likely to believe in the outright lie that I'm a crossdressing male or trans woman... than they are to believe in my factual truth that I'm a born female. It's a new kind of sting, of having lost something that I used to take for granted. I didn't know how much comfort and security it used to give me, before I lost it. I clearly did not at all fully consider the consequences of my medical transition at the time I went through with it. Of course detransition was not what I intended on back then, but it was one possible outcome which I was surely aware of. But I refused to acknowledge that it could happen to me, and what I'd do if it would. So here I am, having to face and live with the consequences of my own willful ignorance. Detransitioning is surely one heck of a lesson in life, and it's teaching me really a lot.

#detransition #getting attention for being gnc #this was an experience #kinda transphobic interactions #kinda harrassment #at least the circling guys #my bad influence on kids... thats why i shouldnt become a parent xD

[timeisacephalopod]

Death of a Bachelor

Non-powered coming out IronStrange AU in which Stephen brings Tony home under a few... false pretenses. And, as always when I write him, Stephen is Asian (Nepali). The title for this is literally because Death of a Bachelor is stuck in my head and it sorta fits lol.

Peter sighs, “just you know... be yourself,” he says.

Tony squints, “‘myself’ sucks, what kind of garbage advice is that?” he asks. “I’ve got one shot at this and I know I’m going to botch it.” He’s never been good at ‘meet the parents’. Its happened once and Pepper’s parents still hate him and they aren’t even together anymore.

“That’s what you’d tell me!” Peter says.

“That’s because you’re a sweet, loving young man and anyone would be lucky to have you. I’m an asshole with a long history of warmongering and that’s honestly not even my biggest flaw.” And that’s a fucking feat. 

“Okay you know what, is Stephen even the type to care if his parents like you? Because you’ve been for dating for over a year and I think he’s mentioned them once and that was in direct reference to his dead sister so I don’t really think it matters too much,” he says.

Probably not, Stephen isn’t the type to care what others think period. But Tony wants at least one set of parents to like him and he loves Stephen so this is probably his last chance. If all goes well he wants to propose, was going to anyways, but Stephen brought up his parents so he thought he’d deal with that first. So he really, really only has one shot at this. “It would be nice if a set of parents didn’t hate me for once. Not that I’d blame them really- if you brought home someone who’s a fan of me I’d tell you to dump them immediately. My fans are worse than Fight Club fans.”

Peter laughs, “its true. But I think that’s mostly because they think that time you were a womanizing warmongering alcoholic is like peak you and glorify it, not because you’re actually crappy,” he says.

Across the apartment the elevator door dings and Pepper steps out, “what?” she asks when they swivel to face her.

“We’re talking about dad’s crappy fans,” Peter says. “And also him meeting Stephen’s parents tomorrow.”

Pepper rolls her eyes, “ your fans are awful. They take who they want you to be and tout that image around no matter how little it actually resembles you as a person. As for Stephen’s parents, I have no advice. You’re horrible at these things,” she says.

“See?” Tony says to Peter. “Even Pepper thinks I’m hopeless.”

*

Stephen considers not telling Tony but if he doesn’t he’ll be in for a rather nasty surprise and he can see how nervous he is already. “They’re going to hate you,” he says bluntly and Tony glares at him.

“Is that really supposed to make me feel better?” he asks.

No, but that isn’t why he’s telling Tony anyways. “It won’t be your fault, they’re raging homophobes so they’re going to hate you on account of not being a woman. And I sort of told them you were Christine because I didn’t want to come out over the phone so they’re also going to be a bit surprised. Not that I care, its my grandmother I’d like to like you anyways but if she doesn’t she’s old, its entirely possible that she’s gone senile.” She’d have to be to not like Tony.

Frankly the only reason he’s doing this is because he’s going to propose and his parents Google him once and awhile to figure out what he’s up to. He can’t not tell them and if he tells his gran she’s got a big mouth, she’ll tell them accidentally or maybe on purpose- its hard to tell with her- and then he’ll have to explain himself. So to bypass all that drama he figures he’ll bring Tony home, deal with his parents’ crap, and then propose and get married in peace. Assuming Tony says yes and its a very real possibility he won’t. He’s only been stated that he’s not a marriage person his entire life.

God, he loathes risks he can’t determine the outcome of with at least some educated success.

“This is going to be a disaster,” Tony mumbles and Stephen pities him, really. At least his parents are dead so Stephen doesn’t need to worry about impressing the dust in their graves.

*

To say meeting Stephen’s parents goes badly is an understatement. The first thing they did was look confused, which Tony can’t blame them for considering he very much does not look like a ‘Christine’ let alone Stephen’s Christine. First of all she’s taller. Then Stephen had issued a rather formal ‘I’m bisexual’ and pretended like he hadn’t just said that and then his parents launched into transphobia with their relief that Stephen wasn’t dating some kind of freak. Because apparently he can totally pass as a Christine. Stephen had winced almost harder at that than Tony considering he obviously forgot Peter is trans and Tony doesn’t have the patience for people insulting that.

As it was he only kept his mouth shut because he didn’t want to make anything worse but Stephen’s parents insist of doing that themselves with their weird and invasive questions. Eventually Stephen’s old as shit grandmother told them to shut up, which had resulted in the best part of the night. It had been pretty clear that Stephen’s relationship with his grandmother was stronger than the one with his parents so he’d look pleased when she stood up for Tony, who was very close to his wits end and he thinks he has a dash of patience these days.

When she tells him to stop putting up with Stephen’s parent’s shit Stephen stuffs his face into his glass of wine, obviously anticipating disaster. Tony considers not saying anything but he’s had a bad night and frankly it can’t get worse. 

“Alright- I know I’m more than famous enough for both of you to know who I am and that I’m a recovering alcoholic. Stop trying to offer my wine, its ignorant. Neither Stephen nor I are the woman in our relationship, that’s the fucking point. Neither of us even fit traditional gender roles anyways and if this is some weird, coded way to ask about our sex life neither of us fit the ‘top’ or ‘bottom’ stereotypes either and its fucking boring to stick to one or the other. Also what the hell would it have mattered if I really was Christine? The fuck does my junk or gender have to do with you? You have a lovely home, but its too bad such shit people live in it. Except you, you seem like you’d be fun a a bachelor party,” he says to Stephen’s grandmother.

She grins at Stephen while his parents sit dumbfounded, “I like him, he’s spunky!” she says. Yeah, because apparently the woman who’s two days older than the damn earth itself is more openminded than people half her age.

*

By the time Tony gets home Stephen is howling with laughter. “I can’t believe you started quoting studies at them,” he says, shaking his head.

“Its not my fault they’re idiots, someone had to tell them they’re wrong and also I have an eidetic memory. Figured I’d put it to good use,” he says.

Stephen shakes his head, “well, at least you made that marginally less painful and gran likes you so there’s that. And she’s not easy to impress- she didn’t like actual Christine.”

Tony smiles, “she knew you weren’t going to last or at least that’s what she told me. And also she’s still convinced Christine is a lesbian even though I’m pretty sure she’s bisexual. But she seems to think we’re good together and she’s also completely convinced your father isn’t actually your father. She’s certain your mother cheated on him at some point but given the fact that she’s Asian and the guy she thinks is your actual father is white it’d be basically impossible to tell. Which is how she explains how fucking tall you are.” Turns out the woman, despite her age, is quite spry and has a lot of opinions that she’d been happy to share with Tony. But her conspiracies on Stephen’s parentage were his favorite and, to humor the woman, he agreed to run a DNA test to confirm or deny who Stephen’s father is.

Stephen lets out a long, drawn out sigh that indicates he’s heard this before. “I’ve told her a million times there is no way more than one person would be willing to sleep with my mother. I’m shocked one person was willing to sleep with my mother and if it weren’t for the pictures I’d assume I’d been kidnapped as a child.”

“Yeah, but apparently your actual father is a very tall Scandinavian man and I think your grandmother is on to something. I looked up the average height in Nepal and you’re a literal foot taller than that. You’d be a giant there,” he says.

“And if we’re going by the average height in Italy, you’d be a woman,” Stephen says, giving Tony an irritated look.

“Rude,” Tony mumbles.

*

Stephen settles an arm around Tony’s waist, “I think maybe we should have waited until she died to get married,” he says, eyeing his grandmother talking to Peter.

“I’ve always wanted a grandson that isn’t a massive prick, you seem like a lovely young man,” she says, grinning happily.

Tony looks up at Stephen, who is indeed his father’s child, “your grandma gives off chaotic trickster vibes, I’m half convinced she’s immortal.” 

Stephen sighs, “you probably aren’t aren’t wrong,” he says.

“I don’t think Stephen is that bad,” Peter says in Stephen’s defense not that it works out in his favor given his grandma’s reaction.

“Honey I’m old, but my senses are still working just fine. He’s an arrogant little shit,” she says. Tony doesn’t think he’s ever seen a grandmother swear that much but when he met all her spunky granny friends last week he’d been subjected to a bunch of sex jokes and talk of dildos so he’s not really surprised anymore. Even if he genuinely had no clue that grandmothers made sex jokes.

“I think I’ve earned my arrogance,” Stephen mumbles, coming to his own defense.

“That doesn’t explain why you’ve been like this your whole life. Take some lessons from Peter, he’s humble,” she tells him and Tony snorts and starts laughing. 

“Our wedding is gunna be awesome,” he says.

#ironstrange #tony x stephen strange #alternate universe #fanfiction #writing #coming out fic

[pointsofpride]

I’m blurring this person’s name and icon, because I am not inviting a “””debate””” with them. I’ve encountered this person’s exclusionism before, and pointed out how fucked up it is, but I’m going to go off on it again, because here it’s cropped up again, and it’s still just... so fucked up. First off, fuck you for thinking that dressing up exclusionism in “civility” actually makes it any amount of civil, because a dagger in the back isn’t any more okay, just because you didn’t stab with aggression. I’m really tired of seeing people who absolutely should know better than this saying these kinds of things. So get ready for another post explaining how exclusionism flies in the face of our community’s history, basic compassion for others, and general sense.

“i believe we shouldn’t allow cishet aces within the LGBT community”

First point of order, there is no “allow” involved in this. Aces, right now, are a part of the community. You can’t say “I think I’ll let you sake a seat at this table” to somebody who’s already been sitting in a chair the whole time. Secondly, “cishet ace” is a self-contradicting phrase. You can not be a heterosexual asexual. You can be a cis ace. You can be a heteroromantic ace. But asexuality is not a kind of heterosexuality. It is a separate sexual identity.

And the term “cishet” was itself coined specifically to define those whith unconditional and unquestioned access to privilege and social acceptance for their identities. That does not apply to aces and never has.

“BUT i would encourage more recognition to the ace/aro community as well as proper sourcing on issues ace/aro people face that isn’t literally stealing from other people’s struggles”

You don’t encourage recognition of the a-spec community. You very directly don’t do that in any amount or way. If you think they’re “stealing from other people’s struggles”. Fucking christ, do you hear yourself? If somebody gets punched in the face and then somebody else says they got punched in the gut, would you tell them to stop “stealing from other people’s struggles”? I should hope the fuck you wouldn’t because that would be total nonsense with absolute lack of awareness. Aces aren’t stealing anything from anybody by just fucking Telling You what they deal with. And you’re probably referring to the fact that exclusionists reuse biphobic and transphobic rhetoric. Which is just. Mind boggling that you can recognize that’s what’s happening and then pin it on a-specs, as if them pointing out how fucked up it is is somehow the problem. Look... I'm not cis, and I'm not het. My whole identity is, at minimum, 3 kinds of queer, and I could expound on my identity. But right off the bat, I’m going to tell you I am ace. And you do not care about any part of me. When I hear people say "cishet aces don't belong at pride" the only thing I hear is "I don't care about your identity; I'm just going to pick and choose what parts of you I say are worthwhile; I don't accept your aceness, and I I don't actually care about you". Because you don’t care about anything I have to say. You don’t care, because I’m ace. You don’t get to dissect me and tell me what I experience or what part of me is queer. When I tell you that I’m ace, you immediately, in your mind, discredit me. But, like I said, I’m not either half of “cishet” (not only because my aceness makes me not heterosexual). You had better not think for a fucking second that you are doing me any favours by keeping out the """cishets""". Don't you fucking dare pretend you're speaking on my behalf or that you care about me. I'm pan, I'm agender, and hell, I prefer femine pronouns, even though I’m agender. I'm queer as FUCK, and I'm also ace. And that is IMPORTANT to me. It IS a part of what makes me queer. If you don't accept all aces, you DO NOT accept me, because my aceness is a part of the whole package of queer that I am. You are not allowed to dissect my identity and throw away what you don't like. All aces belong. It is so immensely disrespectful to try to use my identity against other aces by ignoring MY aceness because the rest of me is "queer enough". Just. Fuck you. If you think “cishet” aces should be removed from the community, then FUCK you. Also, it is incredible that somebody has to point out how fucked up it is that you won’t count first-hand accounts as a “proper source”. Do you fucking REALIZE how little information there is on asexuality? It’s not grass, you can’t just go outside and pick up a fistful. But the studies on LGBT+ issues that take aces into account also get dismissed. Everything aces have given, no matter how direct or nuanced or straightforward or detailed or academic or anecdotal has ever been sufficient for you. It doesn’t matter to you what anybody has to say about oppression that aces face, because you will always actively try to rationalize a reason why it isn’t a “proper source” of evidence.

“i don’t believe ace/aros are oppressed because by definition, they just dont experience it.”

The definitions of “asexual” and “aromantic” are not “a person who is not oppressed”, what the hellfuck is wrong with you? Aces keep TELLING YOU they face forms of oppression, and you just tell them it isn’t true, to their faces. How do you rationalize that?

“however there is some actual stigma they deal with, and denying it is unnacceptable.”

GOLLY, REALLY? IS THAT SO, OH ARBITER OF SOCIAL STIGMA? THANK YOU FOR APPROVING ACES CLAIMS OF AT LEAST THAT MUCH.

You can not pretend like you care about aces and prove you don’t with everything else you say and expect to get a gold star sticker for seeming like you give a fuck.

“the issue is that the LGBT community is treated like a club and not a place of solidarity for people who experienced oppression for their sexuality and gender identity and that needs to be addressed.”

JESUS FUCKING LOUISUS, NO ACES ARE TREATING IT LIKE A “CLUB”. The fuck kind of infantilizing accusation is that? WHAT the FUCK.

You think aces don’t need suicide prevention resources? You think the historical and current pathologization of asexuality doesn’t happen? You think no ace person has ever been hurt for their sexuality? You think aces don’t get kicked out by conservative, bigoted parents for being “deviant”? You think no people ever will think ill enough of aces to harm them? You think aces never are victims of corrective rape, because they “won’t put out”? You think aces don’t deal with any forms of oppression or abuse? Nothing at all? ‘Cause you have absolutely no sense of what society does. Bigots really don’t tend to differentiate their bigotry. If a heavily conservative christian person knows you aren’t straight and cis, that’s all they need to know to loathe you and want you hurt. You just. Don’t get it.

I’m super fucking queer, and I have been on the receiving end of a whole lot of hate in my life for being agender, and for being pan. I know what oppression is, you fuck. Don’t think I defend aces without any knowledge of what the whole community deals with. Don’t think I defend aces without knowing what oppression is. I’ve been the victim of it, sometimes with dangerous and violent severity. But do you know what the MOST aggressive hate I have EVER received for any part of my identity has been for? Take a wild fucking stab in the dark. It’s the reason why I'm defensive of other aces. You have no fucking clue how hated aces are. None. At all. You refuse to think maybe they’re actually oppressed. Even when they tell you. Aces, whether or not they are heteromantic, are very much not a part of the social class in a privileged position that is Straight™. Aces face oppression, and you are not capable of denying that fact except to your own mind, which is all you do.

And I’m CERTAIN you’d find an excuse to deny what I tell you. Also, if you think that social stigma isn’t a part of why the community exists, you don’t know why it exists. It isn’t solely about equal marriage. Because a lot of the time, people will go “you’ve got gay marriage, how are you oppressed?”. The community exists to affect social change and bring awareness. Aces are a part of that.

“cishet ace/aros will never understand the oppression that gay, bi, lesbian and trans people deal with”

Cishet a-specs do not exist. A-specs, by definition, are not cishet.

And heteroromantic aces and heterosexual aros very much UNDERSTAND the oppression that the other members of the community deal with. You act like aces are all children with no sense of comprehension.

“and that needs to be told to them without the aggressive “you guys are fucking idiots for thinking you’re one of us”.”

It’s no different. It’s insensitive and defies the reality of the situation either way.

“something i think a lot of exclusionists forget was that aces/aros were encouraged to be apart of this community for a decade.”

They ARE a part of this community, and if you fucking god damn KNEW your queer history, you’d know that the only thing recent about a-specs in the community is awareness of them. They’ve been here the entire time. They’ve always been in the community. It’s only widespread awareness that’s new.

“its less that they forced themselves in and that LGBT”

Because, guess what, they didn’t. Because they already were in it.

“people legitimately believed they were one of us”

They did. There was a reason. And still do, because that reason is that they are. The overwhelming majority of the community knows this. Right now. Currently. Your opinion on this is so extremely in the minority of the community.

“due to being misinformed and not well educated about it.”

Oh my GOD the irony of you. Here. Have some stuff to stop you from forming a kugelblitz of ironic density: x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x If any of those links die in the future, whatever. As of now, that’s a whole lot of evidence you’re being bigoted. In exactly the same way that there are transphobic and biphobic and panphobic members of the community, when they obviously should know better... In exactly the same way those people try to kick me out of the community, because I’m agender, and because I’m pan, you’ve got the same problem of bigotry they have toward me, and it’s toward me again. You really should know better. MOST of the community knows better than this. By far, the community, as a whole, knows that aces are a part of it. There are exclusionists, but they represent extremely few. You don’t get to say people are “misinformed and not well educated” in the same breath you state you want to take aces our of the community, because you think they’re “not oppressed”. You can’t call people uneducated when you demonstrate a direct lack of education on what you’re talking about. But nothing anybody gives you will get you to consider “hey, maybe there’s a reason that most of the community accepts aces” and “maybe there’s an underlying reason why the correlation to terf and biphobic ideology keeps getting pointed out” or “ I am TELLING YOU this AS A PAN AND AGENDER PERSON, you are recycling rhetoric used against me. And what’s worse, you’re using it against me AGAIN, because I also happen to be ace.

Aces are not “co-opting” bi or trans struggles. You’re Just an asshole doing exactly the same thing other assholes are doing to other members of the community. All aces belong. I am SO. Sick of exclusionists thinking they’re being courtious or civil, no matter how they dress up their willing ignorance and unawareness of our own community’s actual history, and the oppression they deny the existence of. You’re also the kind of person who thinks the community suddenly sprang up out of nowhere after Stonewall, which, I mean... is a benighted notion on its own that ignores the entirety of our much more involved and extensive history, but even still, you are not, to any degree, supporting the spirit that Stormé DeLarverie and Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera and Miss Major stood for. Not even a little bit. And again, Stonewall was what started the Pride event; not what started the community. They are Different Things. Stop saying things that imply aces are automatically outsiders trying to wedge themselves into the community, when you are the ones trying to remove people who are members of the community. Signed, a member of the community who’s “””queer enough””” to tell you how fucked up your opinion is. Hopefully you’ll listen to an agender, pan person, because you sure as fuck won’t listen to anything any other cis and heteroromantic ace, or heterosexual aro person says about the issue.

#a-spec #ace #aro #a-spec exclusion #ace exclusion #aro exclusion #exclusion #exclusionism #exclusionists #lgbt #lgbt+ #lgbtqia #lgbtqia+ #queer #asexual #asexuality #aromantic #aromanticism #aphobia #acephobia #arophobia #hate #bigotry #rape mention #abuse mention #long post

[douchebagbrainwaves]

THE COURAGE OF YOURSELF

The real problem is the same they face in operating systems: they can't pay people enough to build something better than a group of founders to go through one lame idea before realizing that a startup has to make something people want. This should be the m. You learn to paint mostly by doing it, but by then it's too late. Plenty of things we now consider prestigious were anything but at first. They're far better at detecting bullshit than you are at producing it, even if you forget the experience or what you read, its effect on your model of the world is not merely wasted, but actually makes organizations less productive. I've read on HN.1 And in every field there are probably heresies few dare utter.

Less fortunate startups just end up in an uncanny valley.2 It was painful to watch. If Sun runs into trouble, they could drag Java down with them. The first is probably the effort required just to start a new company, Fairchild Semiconductor. The suit is back, it begins. It doesn't do justice to the situation to say never mind, I'm just tired. The most dangerous way to lose time is not to say that to Japanese or Europeans it would seem like something out of the third world. And we know from experience that some undergrads are as capable as most grad students. Even Einstein probably had moments when he was optimistic. A lot of VCs would have rejected Microsoft.

Judging startups is hard even for the best investors, who are both hard to bluff and who already believe most other investors are conventional-minded drones doomed always to miss the big outliers.3 We decided we ought to have T-Shirts for the SFP, and we'd been thinking about what to do by a boss.4 Have you ever seen an old photo of yourself and been embarrassed at the way a painting is made.5 Your program is supposed to do x. Either it's something they felt they had to do. When I learned to program, we had to read in English classes was mostly fiction, so I was haunting galleries anyway. It's also great for morale.6 And so it became synonymous with California nuttiness.7 And it's a good thing. The irony of Galileo's situation was that he got in trouble for appearing to be writing about things I don't understand.

I write great software, because they were so much easier.8 In fact, software that would let people who wanted sites make their own investment decisions. The time to raise money, they try gamely to make the region a center of scholarship and industry which have been closely tied for longer than most people realize.9 I made the list there turned out to be enough. Best of all, for the same reason readers like them. But as one VC told me after a startup he funded would only take about half a million, I don't mean play mind games with yourself to boost your confidence. When I read about people who liked what they did so much that it's critical to get your product to market early, but that you haven't really started working on it to answer calls from people paying you now. Both have the kind of thing for fun. They give employees who do great work for free, in their spare time, and investors are down on advertising at the moment.10 But as one VC told me after a startup he funded would only take about half a million, I don't mean any specific business can. In a startup you have to overcome in order to avoid them, I had to write down everything I remember from it, I doubt it would amount to much more than the valuation of our entire company.

But the importance of this idea would remain something I'd learned from this book, I couldn't believe he was serious. My rule is that I can spend as much time online as I want, as long as buying printed books was the only way to know for sure would be to discover each person's station as early as possible, and the higher your valuation, the narrower your options for doing that. Raising money decreases the risk of failure. Some will be shocking by present standards. Your own ideas about what's possible have been unconsciously lowered by such experiences.11 You may not need to use convertible notes to do it. At Viaweb I considered myself lucky if I got to hack a quarter of the time ranged from tedious to terrifying.12 Prestige is like a compiled program you've lost the source of. Conversely, a town of i dotters and t crossers, where you're liable to get both your grammar and your ideas corrected in the same spirit. The striking thing about this phase is that it's completely different from most people's idea of what business is like.13 Since the custom is to write to persuade a hypothetical perfectly unbiased reader.

Of course, figuring out what you like, and let prestige take care of you: they'd try not to fire you, cover your medical expenses, and support you in old age.14 The most interesting question here may be what high res fundraising will do to the world, and in the meantime I'd have to fight word-by-word to save it from being mangled by some twenty five year old copy editor.15 So am I claiming that no one would dare express it in public?16 And in particular, to great universities.17 But the more you realize you can do than the traditional employer-employee relationship because I've been on both sides of a better one: the investor-founder relationship. O-data.18 Maybe I'm excessively attached to conciseness. Indians in the current Silicon Valley. In fact, we've never even invited them to the demo days we organize for startups to grow. I'm not too worried yet.

It happens naturally to anyone who does good work. Each year.19 But publishing has advanced since then: present-day union organizers rather than an attack on early ones.20 What weaknesses could you exploit? It may seem cavalier to dismiss a language before you've even tried writing programs in it. Cheap Intel processors, of the forces underlying open source and blogging. At the time, could get excited about such a thoroughly boneheaded idea, we should start paying attention. An adult can distance himself enough from the situation to describe it as a book. The English Reformation was at bottom a struggle for wealth and power, but it does at least make you keep an open mind.21 That cap need not simply rise monotonically. True, but I can't believe we've considered every alternative.

Halfway through grad school I decided I wanted to do. But this approach, combined with the preceding four, will turn up a good number of unthinkable ideas. In Robert's defense, he was skeptical about Artix.22 And what, exactly, is hate speech? And yet I suspect no one dares say this. The graphic design is as plain as possible, and the partner responsible for the deal was John Doerr, who came to work for our company.23 If you set up those conditions within the US, there are at least some of the most useful skills we learned from Viaweb was not getting our hopes up. If you try convincing investors before you've convinced yourself, you'll be denounced as a yellowist too, and you'll find yourself having a lot of pro-union readers, the first three were our biggest expenses. If we turn off our self-centeredness in that they assume admissions committees care enough about so far is not very good. Painters in fact have to remember a good deal for everyone.24 A more important source, because it's the only way out.

Notes

The idea is the most promising opportunities, it becomes an advantage to be identified with you to commit to them. Hackers Painters, what you call the Metaphysics came after meta after the fact by someone else created earlier.

A P successfully defended itself by allowing the unionization of its users, however, and this was the fall of 2008 the terms they were.

I.

The lowest point occurred when marginal income tax rates were highest: 14. Make sure too that the stuff they're showing him is something inexperienced founders. So whatever market you're in, you'll be well on your own?

What I'm claiming with the melon seed model is more important than the valuation turns out to be able to grow as big as a child, either as an idea that evolves naturally, and that he had once talked to mentioned how much he liked his work. We're delighted to have to pass so slowly for them. Doing things that don't include the cases where you go to die from running through their initial attitude. That's a valid point.

That's because the rich. In this essay I'm talking mainly about software startups are possible. Since most VCs are suits at heart, the bad idea.

I calculated it once for that might work is in the sort of pious crap you were going back to the Pall Mall Gazette. Actually Emerson never mentioned mousetraps specifically.

The founders want the valuation of zero.

And I'm sure for every startup we had high hopes for doesn't do well, but not in the technology everyone was going to kill bad comments to solve are random, the only alternative would be to go out running or sit home and watch TV, music, and stir. I'm not claiming founders sit down and calculate the expected value calculation for potential founders, and that there's no lower bound to its precision. In fact, for example, would probably never have that glazed over look. So it's not the only ones that matter financially, and he was notoriously improvident and was troubled by debts all his life.

What you learn via users anyway. When Google adopted Don't be evil. But while it makes people dumber.

The idea is not yet released.

I stuck with such energy that he had once talked to a degree that alarmed his family, that it offers a better predictor of success. Programming languages should be designed to express algorithms, and so on. But when you ad lib you end up with much food.

It's when they're really saying is they want to stay in a bug.

In fact this would probably be to become one of the increase in economic inequality, but he turned them down. Cost, again. Wolter, Allan trans, Duns Scotus: Philosophical Writings, Nelson, 1963, p. The trend of VC angel investing is so contentious is that the middle class first appeared in northern Italy and the cost of writing software.

Give us 10 million and we'll tell you alarming things, they will or at least a little more fat, and the editor, written in 6502 machine language. Related: Reprinted in Bacon, Alan ed.

Looking at the fabulous Oren's Hummus. Most of the next stage tend to become more stratified.

In some cases e.

We think we're so useless that in Silicon Valley. This is not economic inequality was really only useful for one video stream. They don't know how many of which you want to get endless grief for classifying religion as well, but which didn't taste very good. College English Departments Come From?

N 12-oz cans white, kidney, or in one of those things that's not true! That should probably be the only audience for your work. The downside is that parties shouldn't be that some of those most vocal on the client?

But it was because he was 10 years ago it would have seemed a miracle of workmanship. Our founder meant a photograph of a startup. Few consciously realize that species weren't, as accurate to call the Metaphysics came after meta after the egalitarian pressures of World War II the tax codes were so bad that they think are bad. Every pilot knows about this problem, any claim to the customer: you post a sign in a place where few succeed is hardly free.

Wolter, Allan trans, Duns Scotus: Philosophical Writings, Nelson, 1963, p. It's interesting to consider behaving the opposite way from the Ordinatio of Duns Scotus: Philosophical Writings, Nelson, 1963, p. The CRM114 Discriminator. If you want to work on projects that improve the world, but starting a startup, unless it was wiser for them, and one of the market.

If anyone remembers such an idea is bad. A day job writing software. What you learn in college. The other reason it used to hear about the details.

There was one of the best ways to get the money they're paid isn't a quid pro quo. Few can have a connection to one of the causes of the other reason they pay so well.

As I was not something big companies to say they care above all about to give him 95% of spam in my incoming mail fluctuated so much a great discovery often seems obvious in retrospect. I don't think it's confusion or lack of movement between companies combined with self-imposed. 99, and their flakiness is indistinguishable from those of dynamic variables were merely optimization advice, before realizing that that's what they said, and jobs encourage cooperation, not widening. Since they don't yet get what they're really not, and earns the right sort of pious crap you were doing Viaweb again, I'd appreciate hearing from you.

#automatically generated text #Markov chains #Paul Graham #Python #Patrick Mooney #things #discovery #cap #increase #valuation #skills #codes #bug #care #course #options #idea #family #Silicon #companies #world #decisions #Conversely #melon #fact #startups #advertising #language #irony #calls

[anyu-blue]

~

I'm trying very hard to process what my therapist was trying to have me process earlier today.

I know she has good intentions and a certain way of going about things and it's all meant for good...

But... I have this... Visceral thing. Urge if you will. Reaction Maybe... To it being applied to the gender issues I've always struggled so hard with.

Most of her philosophy and teaching is centered around- you can only control you, not the rest of the world. And in that sense 'it doesn't matter what other people think.'

I'm struggling because while I understand the sentiment- it's designed for me to feel better about myself and not give a hoot about other people's opinions.... But people get HURT. I have gotten hurt. Attacked. Belittled. Treated terribly.

And yeah she did say that the people who did that to me and would are bad people.. and I and everyone in my situation should avoid them... But how does that translate to a position where you have NO power... Where trying to be comfortable in your own skin translates to... Not getting the care you need? Or not being able to have a job that works for you?

I'm feeling incredibly defensive I know. And I know she feels that I probably shouldn't feel that way but.. like...

If I just. Sit back and accept it....

Look at where we're at. Women make less. Women get harassed and ignored. So do people who are trans. So do those who are agender, genderfluid, and gender queer- ESPECIALLY if they're out.... We get attacked and not rescued. Forced into situations we HAVE to back down or we get killed or hurt or r*ped... And I just...

I'm so upset about all of it.... And I don't think the attitude of 'pfft whatever. I'm just going to be me.' ... Is even SAFE.

I don't know... How to convey that. How to explain the sheer terror that comes with the violent and horrific thoughts that bubble up when thinking about being faced with another unfair situation. The trauma I have attached to it. The fight response that flares so badly... Because running doesn't fix it. Ignoring it- which is kinda sorta the lesson here DEFINITELY doesn't.

She's a trauma focused specialist... But... I do not know how I'm going to work through this one with her. I feel incredibly resistant in a way I'm not with any of the other traumatic things we've discussed and tried to process.

And I feel like I'm failing because I feel so resistant. She means we'll but I cannot tell you how bad I feel when she's like... Well do you want to get better? When I'm not feeling up to processing something... It's designed to help, but gods the GUILT.

I'm incredibly confused at the same time I'm not.

I want to be NOTHING. Or Both. And I HATE being lumped in again and again and again with being a 'woman' to literally every single god damn person who lays eyes on me. I hate it so much. I don't WANT to 'just be okay' with it... I am NOT okay with it. And I never really have been. Some days I don't particularly mind for whatever reasons... But many, many days (especially increasingly) I REALLY do.

I don't know HOW to be nothing, or both... I don't know how I could ever bring how I feel out visibly on my body... I try the gender neutral stuff and I just feel like I look like a Dyke (if anyone is offended by that work I'm sorry- I learned it as 'butch lesbian's rather than anything sinister and feel comfortable continuing to use it as such)... It EXTREMELY not helped by my damned voice... I have so many gd hormone issues and stupid stuff and yet I have the highest voice in my entire family. And I just... *Sobs*

Trying other ways of speaking... Trying to tone down my natural mannerisms... it doesn't feel right or seem like it works at all... And I'm lost. I'm so lost and scared.

I'm supposed to 'just be okay with my body'... To love myself as I am... And I'm so confused...

I am okay with it because I know it does it's best. It's here working it's hardest for me. It is my me... But at the same time... Something is just... So wrong. It's not my body's fault.. it's doing it's best. I wasn't born right in several ways as it were.. way too fkn early as a start... And I don't want to hurt myself/my body... But I.. just... I don't know. I don't know why it's so visceral and uncomfortable and awful... I don't know why I don't want to accept being a 'woman'. Why it feels me out so bad. Why every time I'm alone and settled and comfortable my entire image of myself ISN'T that. And I forget that I... I guess 'am' one... And Looking into the mirror is like being hit by a truck...

And being told I'm cute and beautiful and pretty.. just hurts... Not because I'm.. not... But because I AM and I don't.. like it. I'm not pretty or cute or ANYTHING in the way I feel I 'should' be... I'm not, especially, in the way(s) I want to be...

#personal #random #life in general #trauma #therapy #confusion #trigger warnings apply #r*pe mention #legit crying in my bathroom lol #oh dear... #i can't stand discussing this stuff with therapists... not because they don't care but like #urgh... do they GET it? #i don't even 200% get it 😭 #*100%

[system-architect]

50 Q for Vax... please, I need it

OH BOY vax... i’ve been rping him a lot lately but he still remains a bit of an enigma!! lets see..

Personal

1)      Age? 23! he acts older than his age i think

2)      Gender? like all my other ocs bc i’m very self indulgent, he is a trans guy!

3)      Romantic/Sexual Orientation? vax can think boys are cute, but he’s never been a very romantically active person. he doesn’t lack a capacity for affection, he’s just always... busy with other stuff? it’s not something he thinks about often. if he’s buzzy around someone it’s probably bc he adores their cybernetics/etc work

4)      Height? probably smth like 3′9″

5)      Race? asura (+ cyborg??)

6)      What do they look like? (i.e, hair color, eye color, etc). i’m gonna link The Vax Draw, i’m undecided about whether his hair is naturally full black or if the white stripes are weird pigment loss... PS he has a ton of moles all over, not just on his face :D

7)      Any disabilities? hokay this is a Vax Secret but he has some sort of muscular and/or skeletal disorder i need to research into/get specifics on but the general idea is that he can get very weak and achey and have trouble moving sometimes! he deals with this via another Vax Secret i might talk about sometime

8)      Is there a meaning to their name? in asuran ?? idk i dont think their names have meanings, but irl its a shortened asurafied version of ‘vaccine’ bc i thought it sounded cool

9)      What makes them, them? Odd Question but he’s very shaped by his childhood experiences studying his father’s work and looking up to his dad and he’s very defined by his innate drive to bulldoze towards goals he has and wants to research... he’s a very stubborn and determined person who’s very much an agent For Himself

10)   What do they want to be when they grow up/what do they want to do with their lives? he is Growed Up but he really wants to keep chasing revolutions in prosthetics/augments/cybernetics.. he wants to help people in ways they couldn’t otherwise be helped (atypical inquest huh)

Family

11)   Do they have parents? What are they like and how do they act with their child(ren)? yes one parent, a single dad! ppl who’ve been watchin my hell rp server stuff will know his name is akka and he’s one of the top prosthetics smiths in the industry and was very private about his work but had a very cutting edge philosophy towards artificial parts and lead some really revolutionary work... dr. akka is a very kind and patient man with a good soul who is a tad weary from the world but he loved his son very much! he and vax had a great bond and vax was always eager to learn about his dad’s life work and his dad was always eager to teach him.. akka is an overall pretty amazing man, it’s a shame he joined the inquest for some reason and now we don’t know his current whereabouts......

12)   Do they have siblings? How do they interact with them? If not, do they wish they had siblings? he technically has a sibling! maybe more? but he’s never met them... vax is perfectly pleased with being an only child, we’ll have to see how he reacts if he ever meets this one. it’s actually a character y’all are already familiar with.......

13)   Extended family? Do they see them often? nope and nope

14)   Do they like where they live? (Is it a safe place?) vax essentially lives out of his workshop within the sigma-5 prime division laboratory space which is Not a safe place no....... but he loves it... he technically has an apartment somewhere in soren draa that is as much of a junk pile as his workshop whoops (vax is very much a ‘i know where everything is in this chaos. don’t move it’ person...)

15)   Where do they live? Are they wealthy? Poor? Middle-Class? i semi-answered this above but he has enough funding via the inquest to do his research projects as well as have a place for himself! i wouldn’t call him upper class probably just kinda middle ish, he keeps himself afloat alright

16)   Do they have a lot of expectations/pressure on them from family to do great? despite vax’s attachment to akka’s work and vice versa, akka is a very chill guy who never expected vax to live up to it or anything like that.. he just thought it was great vax had the interest in it

17)   Do they have pets? alas, no.... if he did i could see him owning smth more atypical like a ferret and fuck i kinda like that idea now i’ll have to meditate on it

18)   Who do they look up to the most/are the closest to in their family? take one guess

19)   This there anything special about their family? his dad being a renowned prosthetics doctors is pretty special yeah

20)   Do they wish they lived in a different family/household? absolutely not

Friends

21)   Best Friend(s)? alas vax is... very very much a lone wolf! this section is gonna be hard to answer and i’m probably gonna have to cross out some stuff because vax purposefully doesn’t really get close to anyone and he’s exceedingly unperturbed about this.. i meant it when i said he’s very self-driven! he’s not ultra egotistic and he doesn’t hate other people, nor is he unempathetic (i’d say he has a good degree of empathy actually), he’s just kind of... uninterested? he won’t hate you or be nasty to you for no reason, he’s just not interested in befriending/being around you as an aspect of his life

22)   Who was their first friend? probably some of the other progeny tried to befriend him in precollege he he was Smart which is Cool but they quickly learned that vax’s idea of friendship is he will give you a quick synopsis of what he’s currently on and then go silent as he continues to work on it

23)   What is their friend group like? there are a lot of inquest underlings who try to suck up to him because he’s their boss and also a shining star virtuoso with his work................. vax remains oblivious and unpeturbed

24)   Do they have a love/hate relationship with any of them? yes. specifically plex. who is his best tech ops drone but plex is a... sort of pushy person wrt trying to Befriend vax and he has a very obvious crush on vax and vax is mostly oblivious to it but sometimes feels weird about plex’s sudden ‘random’ bursts of being super buddy-buddy with him. in plex’s defense a bit, plex doesn’t know how to interact with people either

25)   Do they consider any of their friends to be like siblings?

26)   Have they ever hurt a friend or lost one? he’s probably unintentionally driven off people by coming across as super cold... i think he feels bad if he accidentally upsets people with his demeanor but he’s not quite sure what to do about it bc he doesn’t really want to upset people but he also doesn’t want to force himself to be MegaFriendly anyway esp considering his trials with social interaction are kind of a hardwired brain thing (he’s got like... vague assorted ADHD-autistic spectrum traits)

27)   Do they have a crush on any of their friends?

28)   Do they share classes with good friends?

29)   Whom do they go to the most when they need a shoulder to cry on? vax internalizes all his problems and works through them privately khgjdf he’s a weird mixture of stable and mature but sometimes unhealthy

30)   What would this person do without their friends in their lives? [img of vax doing vague shrugging motions here] as aloof as he is he probably at the very least appreciates that other people have interest in his work! so would be a bit sad if he didn’t have that

School

31)   What grade are they in? If they aren’t in school, how come? he has graduated college! he was top of the class his year at dynamics

32)   Do/Did they like their teachers? Was there a good one? Bad one? i’m sure he’s had a Variety of teachers but most of his teachers probably liked him a good bit since he’s smart and yknow, Asura Be Like That... i’m sure he’s conversely had a few who butted heads with him over his philosophy on cybernetics because he has a much more open ended approach that’s a bit focused on the idea that prosthetics are body parts and people with prosthetics are Whole People not People With Additional Bits Slapped On/In and he’s very ginger with prosthetics/augments he handles and treats them like they’re the same as fleshy body parts and deserve the same delicate care despite being metal, and overall he has more of a focus on the actual people he’s working with i think, and i can see some more hardass/uptight teachers in particular not liking this because it’s kinda unasuran to more traditionalist types to have such a.. humane view on work rather than being enthused solely with your numbers and research results

33)   Do/Did they listen to their teachers or are/where they goofing off a lot? vax is very headstrong and if you have useful advice then its useful advice but if you dont then fuck off and let him do his work how he’s determined to do it... he doesn’t goof off but he has no respect for authority if authority gives bad commentary

34)   Are/Where they a good student grade wise? top marks except for in classes where he was abrasive with the teachers who’s work ethics clashed with his but what can you do

35)   Do/Did they need extra help? nope... he probably ended up tutoring a few people actually (which probably was due to a nudge from a teacher and not.. vax’s sole volition of wanting to tutor people)

36)   What is/was their school like?

37)   Do/Did they have bullies in school? i’m sure he Didn’t Get Along With some others bc he’s Weird

38)   Have they ever gotten into a fight at school? yes he’s absolutely metaphorically gone for someone’s throat because they had the audacity to challenge him on something that they were both wrong about and not as passionate about as him

39)   Have they ever done something stupid/embarrassing at school? i’m sure he has but i can’t rlly think of anything (boring answer srry)

40)   How far do they plan to go with school? If they dropped out, do they want to go back?

Other

41)   Are they dating anyone? Do they want to date? Are the married? Divorced? i already kinda answered this but he’s not partic romantically involved... however i think if he found someone he was In Sync With and who understood his mannerisms then he’d be very content with them... i think he would need a stable easygoing relationship based on shared interests and just casually fitting together and supporting each other rather than anything passionately heated or overly focused on traditional displays of affection

42)   What is their favorite hobby? Do they keep it a secret? he’s a big nerd who collects various prosthetics/augment models and he absolutely doesn’t keep it a secret...................... 75% of the RP i’m in with him rn has been him geeking out over augs. the other 25% was me describing the facility.

43)   If they could have one thing in life, what would it be? i think he’s more overall focused on the idea of a continuous stream of improvement over a few static goals? he’s constantly laying out new traintracks in front of himself to steam ahead on... he’d like to be happy and successful at what he does, ultimately, and really attain super advanced inventions

44)   Do they work? If so, what is it? If not, are they looking for one or even want one? despite everything i’ve said here about him being a good empathetic guy, he is Inquest........ the inquest funds his research he does at their labs and they pay him for being the sigma-five supervisor

45)   Do they use social media? i can’t see him using social media much tbh... he might be into podcasts and asuran youtube a bit

46)   Have they ever been in the hospital? due to his strength issues and some stuff that happened as a very small child he has been quite a bit yes

47)   Do they believe in the supernatural, that there is more than the eye can see? this is a weird question in the context of gw2 which has canon ghosts whoops.. im gonna interpret it as ‘are they superstitious’... vax isnt superstitious and i think he’d be very brave facing questionably supernatural forces but in a sort of logical way uh... he would Not be the first to die in a horror movie.... he’s a skeptic of non-scientific magic things with i think some lingering internal paranoia.. he’s a very logical person

48)   What do they do when they get angry, stressed, or upset? broods in private probably....... depending on what he’s heated about he might go sit by himself for awhile or he’s gonna take his anger out while working on a project

49)   Would they consider themselves as a good person, bad person, or morally grey? i think he tries to be a good person but he’s skeptical of that Status a lot and worries over it a good bit... again, typical inquest!

50)   Does this OC have any part of you in them? (I.e, personality traits, similar background, etc) all of my ocs have parts of me in them to some degree, i think vax carries some things related to my disabilities, interpersonal and moralistic struggles, and the nerdy passion over my special interests

#oc talk #ask memes #tHIS TOOK SO LONG IM SO SORRY #vax

[outoftheready]

Let’s Get Started (Originally posted elsewhere on June 13, 2019)

    Music is a big part of my life.  A majority of people (at least those I know) would say the same thing. A favorite band or a song that someone feels defines a part of them. Songs can help you through a rough time. A song can lift your mood. Songs create this narrative for us that we sometimes can’t explain ourselves. We create playlists, in our phones, iPods, Spotify, Apple Music, whatever your favorite platform is. Some even still make a mix in CD form. We can share these songs, keep them to ourselves, even force these songs on others. “Listen to this song. It’s so me. This is my life!” I have tried to share songs quietly by sharing them on Facebook or slipping into a mix I’ve given to someone hoping something in the lyrics would click with them and hear me in the song.

     I’m also big into story. I once made a 3 CD mix for a girl, taking lyrics from the songs and turning them into a story for her. I never gave it to her. It would have been weird and possibly inappropriate. I’ll reveal why in a minute. I find songs all the time where maybe one line resounds with me, and it brings out a little bit of my life. I have a playlist of those songs and one day while listening to that playlist a thought came to mind and wondered if I should take those bits of songs and do something with them. Should I start a blog? I used to have a Tumblr, but that might not be the best place. That Tumblr hasn’t been active in about four years though. There are some people who know/knew about it and I’m not ready for some of them to know what I’m going through.

    All my life I’ve never liked who I am. It all started to hit pretty hard over the past year. Some friends were able to tell and had many people asking if I was alright. I would tell them I was fine or had just a little anxiety. Never once in my life did I feel normal. I always hated myself, my body. I was considered a tomboy, probably thought to be a phase by most. Once one of my great-aunts had asked my mom, “What if she is a lesbian?” I was pretty young when my mom told me that and I knew then that I wasn’t. I knew that I felt like a boy. In my heart, I was a boy. Being gay would probably be a whole lot easier than being transgender. There are so many things that will change and everyone will have to get used to it or just not be part of my life. Someone one day posted or liked a tweet by this guy with a goofy profile picture of him wearing tiny sunglasses, I was intrigued. I looked to see what he was about and found out he was this transgender guy, I may have hesitated a little but followed him immediately. There was a lot of wondering on my part if I should continue to follow him. What if my Christian friends looked at who I follow? What if I liked one of his tweets, or responded, or even worse felt compelled to retweet something? What will happen if I get found out? By following him I have found other trans guys and a watched a bunch of videos. I have found out so many things. There is more than just testosterone injections, getting top surgery to remove these things on my chest I carry around, more than just a voice change.

    I wrote this horrible Cliff’s Notes version of my life and let a few friends read it. I even came clean with a now former friend of some feelings I had for her. I’m sure I must have done something else other than revealing that to make that friendship end the way it did. Parts of that week are kind of a blur. It was so stressful finally getting all this bottled up mess out. It’s a little embarrassing actually. Maybe it shouldn’t be. I wish I knew what it was that I did. I had to write my story. I had to let her know. I had to get it all out. If I didn’t I knew I would get more anxious. I know I would get even more depressed. I knew I would begin to completely loathe who I am and everything about my life. I didn’t want that. I don’t think I could deal with that. I knew I needed to get better, to not hate myself any longer. To feel like a person.

    One of the hardest parts of going through this is that I’m in my late 30’s and have never talked about this until 9 months ago. The other hard part is I work at a church. That’s where I met the girl I made the 3 CD/story mix for, and that was yeaaaaaarrrrrrrrrssss ago. I’m not a pastor or leader of any sort really. Recently the church (more like that pastor) has been softly going after gender identity and it hurts-they don’t understand. I heard someone once say something along the lines of, “If you feel upset about it in your spirit it’s the conviction of the Holy Spirit.” I used to just roll my eyes when they would speak out against homosexuality because I knew they didn’t understand and/or didn’t want to. Now that it seems like they are losing that fight, the religious Christians are gunning for those who struggle with gender identity. It hurts. It feels so hate driven. Maybe they don’t mean to be that way. Maybe they don’t know they sound that way. And with every “amen” I hear it tares me down. I can feel the disgust. I can imagine the look of disappointment in the faces of those who used to be so happy to see me and want to hug me. Or the fake love they will give. And, the discomfort I feel is not the conviction of the Holy Spirit, it’s that lack of their understanding. It’s that judgment I feel from the tone of their words. The discomfort I feel is their unease for those like me and all the other types of people in the LGBT community.

    For over 30 years I’ve struggled with who I am. For nearly 30 years I’ve had kids asking if I were a boy or a girl. I knew I hated who I was from an early age. Those many birthday candle blowouts or first star I see tonight wishes to be a boy. In kindergarten never playing dolls or house with girls on the other side of the room. Except for that one time I tried and that probably lasted all of two minutes, then went right back to playing on the slide and painting on the easel on the other side of the room with the boys. In first grade stealing a baby bottle nipple and fixing it to where it would need to be for me to stand up and pee. It worked surprisingly well. I then didn’t know what to do with it because I tried it in school during a restroom break and threw the bottle nipple in some random corner of the girls bathroom. Somehow one of the girls saw my feet facing the toilet and for years would tell me that she saw me peeing standing up. It was always when there were other kids around and I would get so embarrassed. For years I’ve been holding in this sadness. Holding in my fears. Letting it develop into a painful anxiety and depression. And to be honest I never thought I would make it this far in progress and in life. I used to pray that if this was all wrong that God would give me cancer so that I could die.  I’m still here.

    I’m in therapy now. It’s been helping me tremendously. But writing things down has always been a way for me to really get things out because I can think about how I want to say things. I’m not always good at getting things out while talking, I shut down. Recently though, after being open about things, it’s a little easier to talk. And, what the fuck is up with all the damn crying that comes with it. Fuck me. I have cried more in the past year than I have in probably the past 15 years. I guess I’m finally finding my way out.

    Being a very scattered thought person, I am writing multiple posts at the same time. I will try my best to not repeat things and if anything is ever confusing I apologize beforehand. The girl I am no longer friends with, in our last texting conversation she said something like I was just trying to get attention and acting like a middle schooler, I almost didn’t do this out of fear that it would look like I was trying to seek attention. I’m not. I’m just trying to get better. And I’m not sure if every post will have a relatable song or if every post will have a song, but I’ll try. If there is ever a song you think fits with a post or maybe a song you think I would enjoy go ahead a let me know. Please ask me questions. Even the dumbest questions. And If your a friend of mine keep on me about getting this stuff out. I kind of hate that I’m finally posting this during Pride Month. Mostly because I don’t want it to seem like that is why I’m starting this. It’s merely a coincidence that this is getting posted now.

I’ve always struggled at the root of the problem Has it been absence or my constant lack of defense? I’ve never spent a lot on finding a remedy I guess I figured that it hurts for a reason I guess that’s why I’ve always turned to writing it down Not just in stories but the letters in between And I guess that’s why it haunts the pages of everything To self-examine I think the thing is that I shut off from everything From friends and family and my own ambitions From having fun I just shut off from everything Self-defeating? Yeah, probably

“A Letter” by La Dispute

My friend, don’t look down

You’ve got to face what’s in front of you now

Don’t waste your time making excuses

Cause son you’re about to find out

You might just figure out

What you’re made of

“Not Fair” by Bayside 

Don’t let them break you.

Don’t let them tell you who you are

“Bamboo Bones” by Against Me!

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